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bkgexe · 3 days ago

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if all else fails, i was myself

bakugou x reader ✾ 4.6k

info! no smut sorry gang ✾ tw! trust issues that manifest as issues w physical intimacy/contact, dubcon in its vaguest definition (NOT bkg & reader) ✾ notes! ive been in perpetual writers block for months. is this trite idk. i miss my baby but anytime i write for him im like oops this is gonna be 60k words!!! so here is. a drabble lmao. also big lmao moment this is titled after count me out by kendrick lamar ldskfjdlkjf which was on repeat while writing so uh sorry mr. lamar abt the mha fanfic

katsuki has always known that part of him is wrong.

he’s never liked being touched. every kiss he’s experienced has made him tense as an elevator cable poised to snap. any attempt to go further than that has made him a little ill, made his gut feel like a stack of loose papers being torn to shreds, slow and loud.

it doesn’t help that he’s only ever had three kisses in his life: eijirou at a new year’s party (too many teeth), eijirou again at another new year’s party nearly a decade later (too much tongue), and then his fourth date with kyoka (when he tried to convince himself he just had to push through the discomfort to become normal).

things went further than that. it was a mistake. they both knew it right after it happened—kyoka first, and then katsuki after his head stopped pounding with what if i'm doing this wrong what if she's pitying me for fucking this up what if i don't know how to touch another person correctly what if i was supposed to learn at some point and i missed it how could i fucking miss it will it always be like this because i can't do this again i can't i don't—

“kat," she said after. she looked at him with something only a few degrees removed from pity, and poorly removed at that.

he attempted a halting non-apology. he attempted a real apology. failed at both.

"it's okay, you know," she said. "to not like it."

he scoffed even though he wasn’t entirely clear on what she meant by it, because there was so much he didn’t like. “i like it just fine.”

“if that was liking it, I’m honestly worried about your capacity for enjoying life in general.” it wasn’t a joke. her bluntness was something that'd made katsuki think he could push his boundaries with her. all of her thoughts were laid out plain for him to read, an open-source journal. “i'm just saying you don't have to like it. and you don’t have to force yourself to do things you don’t want to do. don't fuck yourself over for someone else's happiness.”

kyoka still texts him often, checks in, invites him to drinks with their friends. she’s kind. she’s normal. she doesn’t have this weird, shredded thing inside her that makes her balk at the idea of someone’s hand on her skin. that makes her think she's doing something wrong, even if she's not the one that initiated the touch.

when you started your job at the front desk of katsuki’s agency, he never thought that he'd be here, wishing above everything that he could just be normal. just for one fucking day, so he could laugh at your shitty jokes and maybe brush his knuckles across the back of your hand in passing and take you on a date where he could kiss you in his car after driving you home and the thought wouldn’t make his skin crawl, wouldn't tear up his insides to pulp.

because he fucked everything up. he's standing in his empty office where you'd been spending time with him and he fucked it up and hurt you and he's not sure how to unfuck it.

the thing is, he could grin and bear it. he could deal with the odd thing inside him that hates the contact and white-knuckle it through every kiss, every caress. but he’s never been a great actor. he wouldn’t be able to hide that from you.

(kyoka told him, years later, that it’s not that the sex itself wasn’t fine—what made it nearly unbearable for her was the fact that she could tell, only after it was too late, that being physically vulnerable with her pained him far more than he was willing to reveal.)

no one wants to feel like the person they’re with is grinning and bearing it. that they’re white-knuckling it through. katsuki knows this. he knows he’s basically a fucking virgin all but in title at thirty and that he’s got the personality of a dried-out fig you find in your fridge weeks after its last edible moments. he doesn't have much to offer.

but he walked into work one day and nodded at you, curt, a grimace on his face—and you smiled at him so kindly that his stomach twisted.

with you, it wasn't the feeling of something being torn apart. it was different, lighter. leaves wrenched into the sky by a strong breeze. still a kind of tearing, but different—less destructive.

he was wearing a deep carmine sweater his mom sent him in one of her bi-monthly care packages (as if he’s not an adult, and a pro-hero on top of that), and you said, “that’s such a nice color on you. is it new?”

there was that breeze inside his chest, strong, pulling at his bones. “yeah,” he grunted. then slowly, as if remembering how: “thanks.”

it was the attention, he thought at first, that piqued his interest. he wasn't used to it. people always watched him from afar, and he had fans online that were borderline obsessive, but people didn’t approach him. they didn’t say that’s such a nice color on you. they didn’t smile the way you smile.

he’s always had a shallow streak. it’s not like he doesn’t know this. it’s become a little muted over time, a little discouraged by the visible scarring on his face and body from his time in the field, but it’s never fully been eradicated. so it was simple, he thought. you paid him attention and stroked his ego, and he preened like a self-obsessed bird of paradise.

and then you started making these little origami whale sharks.

fucking stupid. it bothered him an annoying amount. you had a bunch at your desk, all different colors and sizes, some taped to your desktop monitor, some hung up with little pieces of string under the desk's storage overhang. you drew dots on the back of each one, a distinct spotted pattern that was unique for each shark. and you made them for everyone but him. eijirou bought you a pack of high quality origami paper and you made him his own fucking school, all with little faces, winking or surprised or angry, their wide paper mouths gaping and empty, the lines of their bodies pressed careful and sure.

he hated it. it was annoying and a waste of company time and he usually didn’t ever use dumb corporate slogans like “a waste of company time” but you were really pushing his fucking limits.

it was definitely just the attention he liked, he told himself, because surely someone doing something as dumb as this would annoy him to no fucking end if he spoke to them.

and then he spoke to you and he was wrong.

he asked why you made the damn things in the first place and you told him, “i like whale sharks. but to be totally honest, i just run out of things to do."

and he saw that as a challenge. you were running out of things to do? rest assured he could find more shit for you to take care of. so he did. tasks that he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy, they were so dull and time-consuming. and you were so achingly competent that it drove him up a fucking wall. you completed everything he asked of you in half the time it would take someone else, and you always reported back with a smile, and you always did good work, and he could see himself having a conversation with you about something other than work but he didn't want to try because he was worried he'd begin to like you as a person.

you're pretty. really fucking pretty. he can see that now, and he sure as fuck saw it then. you're hardworking. you're just likeable, and that's something katsuki had never been. it (reluctantly) impressed him. worse than that, it turned his feelings for you into a sort of interest.

but he knows he's not normal when it comes to things like this.

he tried to distance himself from you because of it, but it turns out that asking someone to do work for you means you do have to speak to them sometimes. and sometimes turned into a lot of times.

sometimes turned into bringing him coffee in the morning, not because he asked you to, but because you're sweet like that. sometimes turned into being the person he bounced ideas off of when he had a board meeting coming up or something otherwise boring and meticulous. sometimes turned into you laughing at his prickly comments rather than going quiet because of them. turned into you saying suck it up, dynamight, this is what it means to be the boss when he complained about doing paperwork.

sometimes turned into staying late with him at the office, getting take out for the two of you to share while you finished filing claims and damage reports and other stuff he hated taking care of by himself. sometimes turned into him asking you to stay late just because he wanted you there. because even when he was quiet, you'd tell him about your day, about things that happened in the office, about how much you like the book you'd both been reading. he loved listening to you talk. felt comfortable enough to tell you things about himself when he'd never felt comfortable doing that before.

sometimes turned into you holding out a piece of fried tofu from your take-out container for him to eat while he was approving time-off forms that he should have looked at much earlier that week, and you being so close that he could notice how good you smelled, and the warmth of your body basically radiated towards him, like all your energy was focused on him, and your smile was small but somehow even more lovely than usual, a secret for him to tuck away and keep, and when you finished feeding him and he had a little sauce on the corner of his mouth and you reached forward to wipe it off for him and your hand lingered there for a moment and your eyes fell to his lips and what if you try to kiss me and i'm wrong and you hate me for it and what if i can't give you what you want and what if i'm not actually what you want what if i've disappointed you already what if—

it was too much.

so he fucked it up. your thumb was so soft against his skin. he reeled backwards in his chair, rolling it whole feet clear of you, and he felt the tearing again, the bad kind, like paper unevenly shredded by clumsy hands, and he had to leave. he had to leave. he needed to leave so badly that it felt like pulling his skin off would be preferable to being in that office with you.

hiding in the bathroom was fucking pitiful. he remembered his breathing exercises. he remembered to ground himself. and when he came back to his office, you were gone.

if he was normal—and he wants to be normal, god fucking damn—he could have stomached your proximity. he could have eaten out of your fucking hand. he could have touched you back like a normal person probably would have and he wouldn't be here, alone, looking at a little purple sticky note you left him that says i finished organizing the pto forms. i hope you feel better!

he doesn't know whose pride you're trying to save with that. as if you didn't leave because he made things so fucking awkward by running away from you when you touched him. when you—maybe, if he was reading the room correctly—were about to kiss him.

and you don't speak to him for days. he doesn't want to push so he doesn't—just watches you out of the corner of his eye whenever you're both in the same room, which is arguably worse. he's not sure. he's just itching to fucking talk to you because he misses it.

he misses you. in a more-than-friends way.

it takes a while for him to realize this. when he does, it hits him like a metal rod up the side of the head. it's fucked up of him to miss you the way he does when he doesn't feel like he can provide you with the things a normal person could. and though he's worked on his patience over the years—worked on understanding that he can't have everything he wants—it doesn't stop him from being selfish and finally pulling you aside to talk.

and baffling as fucking ever, the first thing you say is sorry. "i know i should've talked to you about it earlier. i just—i shouldn't have done that. and i know it. i shouldn't have assumed that—i don't know. that you..."

you look helpless. it's one of the very few times that katsuki has ever felt the compulsion to touch someone. not because he wants the touch, per se, but because he wants to be able to provide comfort. he never figured out how to do that with words. he's so focused on his inability to comfort you that he barely has any idea of what you're actually talking about. instead of doing anything at all, he just stands there like a fuckwad.

"i just want you to know that i would never—like never—have touched you, or tried to... if i didn't think there was like, a vibe?" you shake your head, exasperated with yourself. "god, even that sounds so bad. i'm sorry, i just—"

"wait, what are—?" and then it clicks, because he's been slow on the uptake figuring out his shit when he should have been focusing way more on yours. "there was..." katsuki says, and he fucking hates that he can't find better words for what you were both feeling in his office, "a vibe."

the way your face changes when you're flustered is one of katsuki's favorite things, but it's not as enjoyable when he feels just as flustered as you look. "i—oh? so... so you—?"

his ears feel like they're being attacked by two heated straightening irons and he knows they're red as hell right now. he's gonna have to say this plainly even though he'd rather get his teeth pulled out one by one with a pair of pliers. "it's not you."

your expression loses any sort of hope it once held. you press your lips together and sigh, maybe a little exasperated. he's doing his best here but he knows his best is shit. "i can handle a non-cliché rejection," you tell him. "honestly, i'd prefer a non-cliché rejection—"

"i'm not trying to reject you," he says, and it's selfish of him. because he's really not. he isn't comfortable with the things you'd want from him, but he still wants you in some capacity. "i just don't—do shit like that."

"kissing?"

somehow knowing for sure that you did want to kiss him in his office makes him want you more. he likes that you're bold. he likes that you're not ashamed of that. he wants to be different than he is. "any... of it," he struggles to admit.

"at all?"

he nods.

"just—like touching, and stuff?"

it sounds so juvenile that he can't help but laugh through his nose, roll his eyes. "yeah. touching and stuff."

"oh."

you're disappointed. of course you are. it's not like he expected anything different, but—sometimes he fucking hates his life. hates that he can't be the thing people need him to be. hates that trying is so difficult, that it flings his stomach into space, like a throwing stone skipping across a still lake.

"so you don't go on dates, or anything."

"haven't tried."

"do you not want to?" you ask, and he can tell it's more of a genuine question than anything. you're curious about him, like you always are. it's more than he deserves, for all he can offer.

"doesn't make sense to."

"that's not what i asked."

it's not. and so katsuki listens as you ask your question again, and he really takes a moment to think.

considering the answer to your question leads him to his first date with you. and his second, and his third—his fourth, and he's keenly aware that his last fourth date ended with what he expects all dates are supposed to end with.

he takes you to the aquarium. because of all the fucking origami whale sharks. you still haven't given him one and it sticks in his craw like a bone. in front of the backlit tank that holds sharks of all types, shapes and sizes and teeth he's never pictured possible of a living creature before, he asks, "why sharks?"

you look at him, brow raised. "i don't know. they probably needed the biggest tank in the aquarium. and this looks like the biggest tank."

"no, dumbass—your sharks. the ones all over the fuckin' office."

"what, you don't like them?" you ask, but you're smiling, sly.

he shrugs. he thinks they're dumb as hell. he wants one to hang up at work, like the ones you've got hung up at your desk. "they're whatever. they clutter the fuck out of ei's office. and he's already got issues organizing." you've just made eijirou so many at his point, and it's getting ridiculous. "but what—are they easy to make, or something?"

you laugh a little. "no. not at all, actually." a whale shark swims by, its spotted hide shimmering in the tank's eerie blue lighting, and you watch it intently. "but it'd be boring if it was too easy."

this date ends with him walking you home from the aquarium a few blocks from your apartment and you smiling at him and telling him that you had a really great time, and he feels like a fucking freak because you don't even expect more. you don't wait for a kiss. don't look disappointed that he doesn't try to give you one. the way you look at him holds so much affection that he doesn't deserve and he has no idea how to reciprocate it to you, and somehow he lands on, "make me one."

"one what?" you ask, but he thinks you already know what he's asking. you like to play coy. he likes it when you play coy. when you're enjoying yourself.

"one of your little fuckin' paper things," he mutters, because admitting that he wants one of those dumbass sharks feels somehow demeaning. he doesn't want you to know how much he's wanted one. "ei's got a million of 'em."

your hand was on your door handle, but it falls to your side. he's keenly aware of its proximity to him. he doesn't feel that terrible ripping in his gut and its absence is almost frightening to him. your fingers tighten into a fist. it's cold out. "ah, and you're jealous?"

"no," he says, knee-jerk. "i just don't get why everyone gets one but me."

you smile when he says this and he could live in this image of you, delicate and small and made for him. he goes home and thinks about it until he falls asleep. thinks about it even beyond then, feels that strong breeze inside him tearing every leaf from its grounded perch.

here's the thing—nothing against jirou, but unlike his other fourth date, this one was enjoyable. more than. he loved watching you be amazed by the size of the whale sharks, and he loved watching you put a bunch of coins into the penny press and cranking the machine until one was squeezed out into the pattern you wanted, and he loved watching you lay your hand against the glass where the rubbery wings of a flood of stingrays battled for your attention, and—

he loved watching you. that's weird, right? he sounds like a fucking lunatic thinking that.

but he does. he hadn't realized until now how difficult it had been not only to touch people, but to look at them. maintaining eye contact, watching someone do a simple task out of interest instead of staring them down in an attempt to intimidate them. he's so much more fucked up than he thought but what makes it bearable is that he can do it with you. he can watch the way you enjoy things and feel like he's not intruding on something he shouldn't. without even trying, you make him feel welcome—wanted.

that's it. you make him feel wanted.

the realization affects him in a way he doesn't understand. at work the next day, when you smile at him over the top of the front desk, he feels something incredibly strong—something like instinct—that tells him to touch you. small. a thumb brushed across your cheek. his fingers grazing yours. he wants it in a way that can't be right because he's never wanted to touch someone like this.

he doesn't do it, but he thinks about it all day. your little smiles when you notice him watching you on your dates, the way your fingers graze your lips when you cover your laugh, the softness in the way you regard him. you're quiet, reserved, but when you laugh you laugh hard. he wants your soft, your quiet and your loud, he wants the feeling of your fingers on his lips, he wants your smallest smiles, all things he wishes he could fold up and keep and later display somewhere he can always see them. a school of paper fish, gaping mouths and drawn-on spots and such carefully pressed lines.

so on the eleventh date—(he knows it's ridiculous to count, but he's never spent this much time with one person before, not like this)—he reaches for your hand when you're walking alongside the bay, the air turning cold in the wake of the sunset that the two of you had just witnessed. that's romantic, you'd teased when he asked you to watch it with him. he'd rolled his eyes, shrugged you off.

but maybe he wanted it to be romantic. maybe he wanted to make this as normal as possible for you because nothing has been normal between the two of you so far.

you pull back when he reaches for you, as if on instinct. look up at him, confused, when he reaches out again. "katsuki..." you say, and it sounds as if he's done something wrong.

he tries not to let his brain spiral but thoughts drip inwards. water meeting a dented hull. what has he done this time? what else has he fucked up by being fundamentally wrong?

"you know..." you start, and you lose your words.

he thinks of kyoka, years ago. it's okay, you know. to not like it. he wonders if you'll still text him like she does.

your lips pull into a frown before you speak and katsuki can't breathe. "i was never gonna ask on my own because i know you don't like talking about things like this if you don't bring it up. but—um. katsuki—do you think i expect something from you?"

"huh?" he asks, dumb. breathing is still something he fails to do.

"i know that this is—different. i know you have some things going on that make the physical part hard for you." you look up at him so earnestly, and he loves looking at you. he loves looking at you and doesn't want to have to stop and he's worried that this is it. the moment he'll have to stop. you try to smile and it's small and he wants it all for himself. careful. delicate. secret, for him. "i'm not gonna lie to you. i don't know what a relationship without that kind of stuff looks like. but that doesn't mean i'm not willing to find out. it's—i don't need you to try to do something you think i want you to do."

"i'm not."

"it makes me feel a little sick, kat. honestly. it makes me feel like, i don't know—like i'm taking advantage of you, or something—"

"you're not."

"you don't have to do things like that to keep me around." you look flustered, eyes darting from his face to the skyline. "if you want me, i'm—you know."

it's okay, you know. "i don't know."

"i'm yours," you say, and cringe immediately at your words. "or like—i could be, you know, kind of whatever you wanted, if you—if that's what you want. would want."

katsuki can only remember a few times when his head was this quiet in the presence of someone else. when he trusted someone enough to let his mind go blank, to let himself act on instinct. "can i kiss you?"

you sigh. "this is what i was saying. i don't want you to—"

"no," he says, quiet, and he's closer to you than he's ever been. he likes the way you smell. he's not gonna apologize if that's weird. "i just want—god, i feel pathetic asking again. can i just—?"

just, just, just. just a touch, just a kiss, just a moment of your fucking time—it's all he wants. and he's never wanted like this. he's never trusted like this. his head has never quieted entirely because he's so sure that he's not going to disappoint you, or be something you don't actually want, or be wrong.

you've shown him that he can't be wrong with you, regardless of whether or not something within him is broken.

your lips are warm, a little chapped from the dry air, and he tries to remember what kissing chastely is but it's like something breaks in him further the second the two of you touch. his hands are cradling your face, his tongue is gliding against your tongue, his teeth are clacking against your teeth, and he knows the kiss is bad and wrong and messy but he suddenly needs it. he needs to feel you.

you make a noise against him and worry slices into his stomach before he realizes it's a quiet, breathy moan, and maybe you've been okay without the touch but that doesn't mean you don't enjoy it when you receive it. he can tell he hasn't made his boundaries clear enough—your hands circle his wrists, too cautious to go further, too hesitant to grip him like he thinks you want to. like he wants you to want to.

his teeth hit yours again and you laugh, and he pulls back, stomach tight. there's a hope in him that's ready to be torn.

you see it in his face—the fear. "i love kissing you," you blurt out, as if it's the only reassurance you can think of in the moment. "i mean—you're just." you laugh again, and he realizes it's nerves. you're just as nervous as he is. "can i—can we go somewhere warm? and maybe do this more? or—if this was enough—"

he's pulling you towards his apartment before you can get another word out.

kissing you is easy because you make him feel like it's relatively new for you as well. maybe that's how it feels for everyone every time, but he wouldn't know. he just feels comfortable with you. like you're not so much better than him, like you're not waiting to laugh at him when he fucks up, like you're touching him because you really want to.

so he takes you to his apartment and puts you on his couch and kisses you until your back is against the armrest and he's looming over you and you feel comfortable enough that your hands stray from his wrists to his shoulders to his hair and he didn't even know touching someone could feel like this.

put aside the fact that he's nearly finished in his fucking jeans three times just from your fingers running across his back, from the way you cup his cheek when he pulls back for air because he keeps forgetting to breathe—just having you close is intoxicating. he wants to bury his face in the curve of your shoulder, he wants to bite marks into your skin that'll stay vibrant for weeks, he wants to etch himself into you so deeply that he doesn't have to leave. these wants aren't even sexual—it's something about having you be his. i'm yours, you'd told him, and he hadn't even known that it would be exactly what he needed to hear.

he's in love with you, which isn't shocking to him, but he knows he shouldn't be in love with you yet because people that aren't fucked up in the head don't feel shit like this so quickly. he's not gonna tell you this for a very long time, but he knows—so completely and confidently—that he will reach a point when he can tell you.

"you sure you want this?" he asks, breathy, between kisses.

you stop kissing him, brows raised in surprise. "katsuki, we don't... this is a lot for one night. we can take it slow, still."

"that's—i'm not talking about that." he gives in, then—lets himself bury his face in the crook of your neck, lets himself breathe in deep, lets himself find your hands and intertwine your fingers, and you can probably feel that he's hard as fucking metal for you but that's not what's important right now. it sure as hell makes it awkward to try to have a serious conversation, though. "you sure you wanna deal with all... you know. my stuff."

"are you sure you wanna deal with all of my stuff?" you counter, and he pulls back to look at you. kissed rotten and smiling. "of course i want to deal with it. i like you."

and he likes you too. god, he likes you so fucking much.

the next morning, long after you've left for home, he finds a little orange whale shark hidden behind the alarm clock on his bedside table, stars in the place of eyes, and the trace of you is enough to make him feel warm. to hope that over time his apartment becomes full of the little paper creatures until his home is its own aquarium, until everywhere he looks is a memory of all you've brought him—pieces of you, perfectly arranged and delicately folded by your careful hands, much too gentle to tear.

#bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bkg #fics #heehee idk even.... what this is. back on my angst bullshit. but it was fun to write!!!!#would love to be on here more often and write more little things like this would love if life wasn't like incredibly busy all the time

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zhelin-thames · 1 day ago

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A Second Mystery Texter

Masterpost

Jason was sprawled on the couch in his safe house, phone in hand, casually texting Danny. Their conversations had become oddly entertaining for Jason, who enjoyed poking fun at the kid’s dramatic descriptions of ghostly chaos and the soap opera-worthy antics of this “Plasmius” guy.

Jason: So let me get this straight. This guy tried to clone you... and the clone ended up being a teenage girl who sees herself as your sister?

Danny: Yup. That’s Dani with an “i.” She’s great, though. Way less annoying than Plasmius.

Jason: Your life is so weird, kid. And this is coming from someone who’s been dunked in a Lazarus Pit.

Danny: Tell me about it. At least you don’t have to deal with green glowing homework.

Jason chuckled at Danny’s response, completely unaware that Tim had entered the room and was now leaning over his shoulder, curious about the smirk on Jason’s face.

“Who are you texting?” Tim asked, startling Jason.

Jason locked his phone and glared at his younger brother. “None of your business.”

“Come on,” Tim said, plopping down on the armrest. “You’re actually smiling. That’s rare. Who’s the unlucky person stuck dealing with you?”

Jason rolled his eyes. “Just a kid who texted me by mistake. He’s dealing with some ghostly billionaire nonsense, and it’s hilarious.”

Tim’s interest was immediately piqued. “Ghostly billionaire nonsense? That doesn’t sound like your usual crowd. Let me see.”

Jason pulled his phone away. “No.”

Tim smirked. “Fine. I’ll figure it out myself.”

Jason sighed, knowing Tim wouldn’t let it go. Sure enough, an hour later, Tim’s phone buzzed with a new number.

Tim: Hi, is this Danny?

Danny squinted at the unfamiliar number.

Danny: Who’s asking?

Tim: I’m a friend of Jason’s. He mentioned your situation, and I got curious. I’m Tim.

Danny groaned. Great, another Bat-person.

Danny: Okay, hi, Tim. Why are you texting me?

Tim: I heard you’re dealing with some supernatural problems, and I wanted to help. Or at least get more details. Jason’s not exactly a reliable narrator.

Danny sighed, already regretting this.

Danny: Supernatural stuff is my thing. I’ve got it handled.

Tim: Sure, but you could always use a second opinion, right? I’m great with tech, research, and problem-solving. Plus, I’ve seen some weird stuff myself.

Danny hesitated. He wasn’t used to people offering help, and he didn’t know if he wanted another vigilante involved in his life.

Danny: Fine. What do you want to know?

Tim grinned as he began typing.

Over the next few days, Danny found himself juggling texts from both Jason and Tim. Jason was the sarcastic big-brother type, constantly making jokes about Danny’s weird life, while Tim bombarded him with questions about ghost science, ectoplasm, and portals.

One night, as Danny lay in bed, his phone buzzed again.

Tim: Quick question: Have you ever dealt with a ghost that manipulated tech?

Danny: Yeah. Why?

Tim: Just wondering. If one showed up in Gotham, what would you recommend?

Danny frowned, sitting up.

Danny: Wait. Is there a ghost in Gotham right now?

Jason: Tim, what the hell are you doing?

Tim: Expanding our resources. Danny’s clearly experienced.

Danny: Guys, what’s going on?!

Jason sighed, grabbing his phone.

Jason: Don’t worry, kid. If anything shows up here, we’ll handle it.

Danny: Yeah, no. If it’s ghost stuff, you call me. Don’t mess with things you don’t understand.

Tim: Good to know. Can I ask about your portal tech next?

Danny groaned. This was going to be a long friendship.

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hmusunoo · 3 days ago

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DIET PEPSI | K.TH

SYNOPSIS 》 Homework, exams, parents expecting the world from you and more, you just wanted a break. Better yet, you needed one. And who better than getting the resident campus bad boy plug Taehyun to help you out with that.

PAIRINGS 》 plug!taehyun x goody two shoes fem!reader

WARNINGS 》 plug taehyun, drug use, reader is really awkward and innocent she know's nothing about drugs, brief mentions of overbearing parents, unprotected sex, dry humping, car sex, corruption kink, loss of virginity, taehyun is a little bit of an asshole, cowgirl, slight hair pulling, not really proof read.

WORD CNT 》 6.3k

LIBRARY & BOOKSHELVES

You sit at your desk, the glare of your laptop screen searing into your eyes as you attempt to focus on yet another problem set. The numbers blur together, taunting you with their complexity. To your right, your history textbook lies open, mocking you with its dense paragraphs of information you’re supposed to have memorized by tomorrow. The clock ticks steadily in the background, a relentless reminder that time is slipping away. Your parents’ voices echo in your mind, a cacophony of expectations. "You have to be the best. We’re counting on you."Their words are like invisible weights, pressing down on your chest, making it harder to breathe.

You don’t remember the last time you felt truly free. Even when you’re not studying, the guilt lingers. Shouldn’t you be doing more? Shouldn’t you be better? The questions swirl in your head, their answers always out of reach.And so, you sit there, the cursor blinking impatiently on your half-written essay, while your stomach churns from too much coffee and too little sleep. The thought hits you suddenly: This isn’t sustainable. You lean back in your chair and close your eyes, but the words and numbers are still there, painted on the insides of your eyelids.

You need to breathe. You need to escape.

The idea comes to you like a whisper, soft but insistent. Remembering what Sakura told you earlier in the day, about the one guy in school you never thought to talk to before. Kang Taehyun. He was no good, he was what everyone around town and campus called a waste of space. You had half a mind to text Sakura asking for his number. The thought feels almost rebellious. You didn’t know a single thing about weed or how to smoke it. All you knew was that he was the one person around here you could get it from.

Would he even sell it to you? You didn't know, but you were going to try. You grab your phone before you can second-guess yourself. You sent her a quick tentative text swelling with anxiety at the questions you knew awaited you.

It seemed your anxiety was for nothing though, as a short and sweet text from Sakura popped up on your screen not even a minute later: ‘I knew you’d cave (; here 999-000-3456’. You knew as soon as you saw her you'd be bombarded with a multitude of questions but for now you will be thankful for the solace she gave you.

You didn't know the proper etiquette of ordering? Weed, so you didn't think it would be best to call Taehyun. You decided a simple text would do just fine.

You: hi, how much for weed? It’s Y/n L/n btw.

Taehyun: wtf?

You: Sorry, can I buy some weed from you?

Taehyun: i dont sell that. You have the wrong number.

You: what? My friend Sakura gave me your number. She said you would have something to help me.

Taehyun: Are you a fucking cop or something?

You: No???

Taehyun: Whatever. if you're serious, meet me at lakeland park in 15 minutes. If I see any weird shit I'm leaving.

Lakeland park was nearly a fifteen minute walk from you. He was giving you no time to overthink it instead grabbing you coat in a rush and bolting out the door. You pull your coat tighter around you as the wind bites at your cheeks. A fifteen minute walk isn’t far, but on a cold, dark night like this, every step feels heavier, the shadows stretching longer. Your breath clouds in the air as you walk, the rhythmic crunch of your boots on the frost-covered pavement the only

sound accompanying you. You’re not the kind of girl who sneaks out at night, let alone to meet someone like Kang Taehyun. He’s reckless, arrogant, always in trouble, the kind of boy your parents warned you about since middle school. But tonight, the weight of the day of every perfect grade, every strained smile, every pesky exam and desk filled with homework has crushed you into doing something reckless. Something that doesn’t feel like you. The park looms ahead, its iron gates blackened and wet with the mist that clings to the air. You hesitate at the entrance, fingers curling around the cold metal. It’s not too late to turn back, you tell yourself. But that same voice whispers that turning back means retreating to the suffocating predictability of your world. Straight-A student. Perfect daughter. Reliable friend. You just couldn't do that, you needed this. Bad.

The park is deserted. The streetlights cast pale orange pools of light onto the pathways, but the spaces in between seem darker than they should. You clutch your phone in your pocket, your thumb hovering over the power button. Just in case.

The sound of a car engine idling pulls your attention to the far side of the park. There, parked near the frozen pond, is Taehyun's car. Its headlights are off, but the faint glow of the dashboard light outlines his silhouette. You almost stop in your tracks as he leans out of the driver’s side window, his dark hair tousled, an annoyed look on his face.

“Didn’t think you were serious” He said as you walked up to the car. “Get in.”

You hesitate, your hand brushing the cold handle of the passenger door. Pulling it open before you could allow yourself to overthink it. “I was told you could help me.” The inside of the car is warmer than you expected, the faint scent of marijuana smoke and leather wrapping around you.

Taehyun shrugs a bored expression on his face as he leaned his head against the leather seat. His stance made you nervous. You could feel words bubbling up inside of you waiting to jumble out in a heap just like you always did in awkward silences like this. “I Just have a lot of stuff going on with school and my parents and-”

Taehyun snorts, his amusement cutting sharper now as he interrupts the beginning of your rambles. “Well, don’t expect a medal or anything.” He leans back in his seat, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror. “Hurry up. I don’t have all night. What do you want? How much?”

“I have twenty dollars..” You trailed off your voice smaller now.

Taehyun sent you a curt nod reaching down to the glove department between the two of you. He pulled out a bag filled with a green substance, assuming it was the weed. “Here.” He tossed the bag down in your lap lazily. You picked it up in your hands inspecting it with keen eyes.

“Do..do i just eat it?” You asked him as you began to open the top of the baggie.

“What?” He asked leaning forward, the nonchalant expression he once held was gone, now a look of shock in its place. “No. You smoke it.”

“Oh.” Was the only response you could muster up. A red sheen coating your cheeks with embarrassment. “I-i don't know how.”

Taehyun laughs sharp and cold. “Little miss perfect has never smoked before what a fucking shocker.” His tone had a sarcastic lit to it. One that made your stomach churn with uneasiness.

“I’m not a junkie.” You spit out at him. “I just need help with some stress.”

“Are you implying that I'm a junkie?” His asked with raised eyebrows and an expression that spelled ‘i dare you to say that i am’

“N-no” You stuttered “I’m just making a statement about myself.”

You shift uncomfortably in your seat, but Taehyun doesn’t let up. “What’s next, huh? Gonna jay-walk across the street on your way home? Or maybe—and this is a real stretch—you’ll leave your dishes in the sink overnight.” He grins, wide and mocking. “Oh no, the horror.”

Your face burns, but you refuse to look away. “I’m not as boring as you think.”

“Sure you’re not,” he says, dragging the words out. He sends you a smirk. “Let me guess—late night study sessions? Babysitting? Volunteer work at the animal shelter?”

You cross your arms, your nails digging into your sleeves. “I came here, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, and it’s adorable,” he says, his tone dripping with sarcasm. “You’re like a puppy trying to bark. Cute, but not exactly convincing.”

The jab stings more than you’d like to admit, but you steel yourself. “At least I’m trying to do something different.”

“Oh, you’re different, all right,” Taehyun shoots back, his grin widening. “Most people would’ve bailed by now. But not you. You’re too stubborn to realize when you’re in over your head.” You fiddled with the baggie still in your hand “I mean look at you, you thought you had to eat the fucking bud.”

You glare at him, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “Why do you even care? If I’m so ‘adorable,’ why not just drive off and leave me here? No one is forcing you to sell to me ”

Taehyun shrugs, his smirk softening into something more thoughtful—but no less infuriating. “Maybe I’m bored. Or maybe watching you squirm is more fun than anything else I’ve got going on tonight.”

“Whatever.” You huffed, rolling your eyes at him.

“So now that we've established that you do indeed smoke the weed and don't eat it. I’ll take that twenty and be on my way now-”

“Can you teach me how to smoke it?” The words fell from your lips like spit fire before you could even think about them.

“Seriously.” Taehyun sent you a deadpanned look. “Do I need to like, hold your hand while we're at it?”

“Well no..” You trailed “I’ve just never done it before..”

“I can tell,” He said, annoyed. “Whatever I have got nothing better to do.”

He reached back into the saame glove department that he got the weed baggie from, pulling out a small pack of papers in his fingers.

“These are wraps” He explained handing you the wraps. “We’ll put the weed into it before we smoke it.”

“You're going to smoke with me?” You asked Taehyun, mulling the wraps in your hand as you carefully analyzed them.

“Yeah, im not doing this shit for nothing do i look like a fucking teacher to you.” He snapped. Taehyun reached his hand out, yanking the baggie of weed out of your hands and although he did it with minimal force the action still shook you. He really was such a stark contrast to who you were. He was rough, arrogant and cocky. You were shy, timid and very inexperienced in everything he was comfortable with. This was a recipe for disaster.

Taehyun continued by showing you how to ground up the weed then stuff it into the little paper carefully. You watched as his lips poked out, licking the paper to seal the week inside. Really, it shouldn't be something you're finding hot but you do.

“This is a blunt” He explained. You watched him with careful calculation soaking in everything he said to you. The blunt dangles lazily between his fingers, the faint ember glowing like a tiny, taunting beacon in the dim light of the parking lot. He’s leaning against his beat-up car, all leather jacket and sharp jawline, looking like he stepped out of a 90s music video. You tried to steer the thoughts away. Just mere minutes ago you were rolling your eyes at him for poking fun at you, now in the dim light of the overhead dash coupled with the hues of the park street lamps you had thought he looked..well, beautiful.

“Alright, princess,” Taehyun says, his tone as sharp as the smirk tugging at his lips. “You begged me to teach you, so here you go.”

And there you were back to rolling your eyes. “I wasn’t begging,” you snap, your arms crossing defensively over your chest. You know your voice sounds weak even as you say it, and his smirk deepens, like he’s already won some unspoken argument. The nerves for what you were about to do finally really creeping in on you.

“Sure, sure,” he drawls, handing you the blunt like it’s some kind of sacred ritual. “Just don’t go crying to your choir group when you cough up a lung.” You take it with more confidence than you feel, holding it between your fingers the way he does, even though you’re certain it doesn’t look half as natural. You leaned slightly forward in your seat, over the glove department that was between the two of you.

For a quick fleeting second you could have sworn you saw his eyes flicker downwards catching the flesh of your exposed skin. You wore a hoodie half zipped down to reveal your black tank top with tiny little lace on the top. Your cleavage was slightly visible at this angle and he surely noticed it.

“Now, put it in your mouth,” he instructs, deadpan, and you glare at him because you can hear the barely contained laughter in his voice.

“Do you always have to be this crude?” you mutter, but you follow his instructions anyway, the filter feeling foreign and dry against your lips. His eyes flicker over you, quick but deliberate, before he leans closer. You freeze, the scent of leather and marijuana smoke filling your senses as he reaches up to flick his lighter. The flame catches, small and precise, and his hand shields it as he tilts it toward you.

“Breathe in—gently,” he says, his voice softer now, almost serious, though you swear there’s a hint of amusement dancing on his face. You inhale, maybe too sharply, because the burn hits the back of your throat like fire, and you’re coughing almost immediately, doubling over as your eyes water.

He barks out a laugh, loud and shameless, but there’s something about the way his hand hovers just shy of your back, like he’s deciding whether or not to steady you. “I told you to go easy,” he says, shaking his head. “What, you thought you were gonna look cool on the first try?”

“I hate you,” you choke out, still coughing, and he grins like you’ve just made his night.

“Cute.” He mutters. “That’s cute.” he says, and for a second, you think you catch something softer in his expression—like he’s a little proud of you for trying.

You straighten up, glaring at him through watery eyes. “Let’s go again,” you say, more determined than ever.

He raises an eyebrow, surprised but impressed. “Look at you, all rebellious now,” Taehyun teases, taking the blunt from your hands, putting it to his lips and effortlessly inhaling. You wish you could say it wasn’t so erotic looking, the way his lips envelop the blunt, sucking in and then blowing out like he's done it a million times over. Because well, he has. He looks over at you again, eyelids narrowly heavy. You don’t miss the way his gaze lingers just a fraction too long, though, like he’s seeing you differently. But before you can dwell on it, he’s all smirks and sarcasm again, holding out the blunt with a mock bow. “Alright, princess. Round two.”

And as you fumble your way through another attempt, you can’t help but notice the way his expression turned darker, almost lustful as he watched you bring the blunt back to your lips tentatively.

The second drag is smoother. Not by much, but enough that you don’t hack up your lungs again. It still burns on the way down, leaving a bitter taste on your tongue, but there’s something else now—a strange kind of lightness creeping into your chest, like you’re not quite tethered to the ground. “See?” Taehyun says, his voice smug. “Not so hard, is it?”

You roll your eyes, but the edges of the world are starting to blur, the space inside the car feeling smaller and softer all at once. “It’s weird,” you admit, your voice quieter now. “But… kinda nice?”

Taehyun chuckles, resting one arm over the back of his seat as he watches you. “Yeah, it’ll do that. Just wait. You’re gonna feel like your brain’s floating soon.”And he’s right. A few minutes later, the buzzing in your chest has spread to your head, leaving you light and a little disoriented. You can’t stop yourself from giggling, the sound spilling out before you can catch it.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, arching a brow. He took the blunt from your hands, taking a drag from it. The smoke flew out of his lips in ‘O’s’ like some kind of party trick.

Unfamiliar heat pooled in your belly at the sight, your thighs fidgeting in your seat. “I don’t know,” you say, leaning your head back against the seat. “Everything feels… floaty. Like I’m a balloon or something.” Your eyes felt heavy as you stared at him with a dopey smile on your face. The softness of the lights from the overhead light casted down on his face like a glowing frame of his face. It was a beautifully confusing feeling this way. You had found yourself wanting something from him you've never had before, something way worse and more irreversible than smoking for the first time.

He snorts, shaking his head. “You’re high as hell,” he mutters, but there’s a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. A sharp keen to his eyes as they darken at the sight of you, leaning back against the seat, head turned towards him. Your glassy eyes staring up at him doe eyed.

Your gaze lingered on the way his fingers tap absently against the steering wheel. “You’re not as much of an asshole as you act, you know,” you say, your voice unfiltered and soft.

His head snaps toward you, his eyes narrowing. “The hell’s that supposed to mean?”

“You act all tough,” you say, shrugging. “But you’re still here. Putting up with me. Teaching me. You could’ve just told me to screw off.”

“If I recall, I did do that when you texted me.” Taehyun says slowly, his speech becoming slightly slurred. For a moment, he doesn’t say anything. His gaze flickers over you, like he’s trying to decide if you’re messing with him or not. Then he shakes his head, letting out a low chuckle, the sound sending a bolt of electricity through you and straight to your core. It was an unfamiliar feeling for you. You had never felt such intense heat and want for someone. You didn't know whether to blame the weed or your hazy mind, either way you weren't sure you minded.

“Guess the high’s getting to you,” he says, but his voice has softened, the sharp edges dulled. His own lust lingered heavily in the compactness of the car. You are both hyper aware of the shift in the dynamic of the car. You smile lazily, sinking further into the seat. The hum of the moment feels bigger than either of you, like the space between you has shifted somehow. He handed the blunt back to you but with a shake of your head you refused it, already feeling relaxed. Your body is like jelly as you slumped against the seat of the car.

You tilt your head to look at him, his profile is sharp in the dim light, the amber glow of the lighter from earlier still dancing in your mind. “Why are you staring?” he asks, his voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot.

“I’m not,” you lie, even though you can feel the weight of your own gaze on him.

“Yeah, you are,” he says, leaning back slightly in his seat, his fingers drumming absently on the steering wheel. “What’s going on in that good little head of yours, huh?”

You open your mouth to answer, but the words get stuck somewhere in your throat. The buzz in your chest has spread, making everything feel too big and too small all at once. You shift in your seat, suddenly hyper-aware of how close you are to him, how the scent of smoke and leather clings to the air between you. “I don’t know,” you say finally, your voice quieter than you meant it to be.

He doesn’t say anything for a moment, just watches you with that same unreadable expression. And then, like the space between you is pulling him in, he leans forward, just a fraction—enough to make your breath catch. “You’re high,” he says, almost like he’s reminding himself. “That’s all this is.” His breath fanned against your lips close enough that even a mere inch forward your lips would be touching.

You shake your head, though the movement feels sluggish. “It’s not just that,” you whisper, your voice barely audible.

Taehyun’s hand twitches where it rests on the steering wheel, and for a moment, he looks almost unsure, like he’s teetering on the edge of something he can’t pull back from. “You don’t know what you’re saying. You don’t want this.”

“I do,” you insist, your gaze locking with his. The pull between you feels magnetic now, impossible to ignore. The heat in your belly felt like fire only being fueled by the constant darkening of his eyes and his pure adultured need for you. You may be inexperienced and naive but you were stupid, he wanted you as badly as you wanted him.

He lets out a low, almost defeated sigh, his fingers running through his messy hair. “You’re gonna regret this Tomorrow.” But he doesn’t move away.

You lean forward first, closing the already minimal space between you. It’s tentative, the barest brush of your lips against his, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull back. But then he doesn’t.

Taehyun’s lips press against yours, slow and deliberate, like he’s testing the waters. There’s a hesitance in the way his hand hovers near your cheek, as though he’s not sure if he’s allowed to touch you. But when you don’t pull away—when you lean into him instead—he seems to let go of whatever was holding him back.

The kiss deepens, his hand finally coming to rest on your jaw, his thumb brushing against your skin. There’s nothing rushed about it, no desperation, just a quiet intensity that sends your heart racing. You don’t know if it’s the blunt, the high, or him, but the world outside the car has completely disappeared. It’s just the two of you now, tangled in this strange, unspoken pull that you can’t quite explain.

“You’re gonna blame this on the high,” he murmurs with a groan. “If we don’t stop, I don't know how far it will go, princess.”

You shake your head, your eyes still closed. “Don’t stop.” for a moment, neither of you says anything, the quiet hum of the night wrapping around you like a blanket.

He doesn’t move away. If anything, he’s closer now, his hand sliding from your jaw to cup the side of your neck. His thumb brushes just under your ear, and the touch sends a shiver skimming down your spine. “How far have you gone before?”

You shake your head “Nothing further than kissing.”

He pulls back a small look of bewilderment on his face “Are you sure about this?”

You nod, disconnecting yourself for a second to look at him, although your mind was hazy nothing about the decision to go further with Taehyun was, you were sure you wanted this. “Yes” You spoke with a surge of confidence. “I want this, so bad.”

Taehyun reconnects your lips in a messy entanglement of lips and teeth, his hands grabbing at your waist to pull you closer to him even in the confines of his car. “Tell me to stop,” he says, his voice low, almost a growl. It’s not a demand—it’s a plea, barely restrained, like he’s fighting himself and losing.

You don’t tell him to stop. You can’t. Instead, your hands find their way to him, one resting on his shoulder, the other fisting the fabric of his shirt like you’re afraid he’ll pull away if you let go. “I’m not going to,” you whisper, and your voice shakes, but not with fear.

He kisses you again, harder this time, like he’s been holding himself back and can’t anymore. There’s nothing hesitant about it now—his lips press firmly against yours, and you meet him with the same urgency, like you’ve both been waiting for this moment longer than either of you is willing to admit.

Taehyun’s free hand slides to your waist, gripping you just hard enough to make your breath hitch. The space between you feels nonexistent, every inch of him pressing into you in a way that’s both overwhelming and addictive. You’re not thinking anymore—not about where you are, not about how this started, not about the million ways this could go wrong. All you know is the way his hands feel against you, the way his lips move like he’s memorizing the shape of yours, the way your entire body feels like it’s on fire.

You tug at his shirt, pulling him closer, and he groans softly against your mouth, the sound vibrating through you. Taehyun’s fingers dig into your waist, grounding you even as the world feels like it’s spinning out of control. The high from the weed makes your skin a buzz and your mind spin.

“You’re gonna ruin me,” Taehyun mutters against your lips, his voice rough and raw, like the confession slipped out without his permission.It makes you want him even more. You tilt your head, deepening the kiss, pouring every ounce of emotion you can’t put into words into the way your lips move against his. Your hips raise slightly, searching for some semblance of friction.

The small space of the car feels suffocating now, the air thick and heavy as his hand slides up your side, brushing just beneath the hem of your sweatshirt. His touch is searing, leaving trails of heat in its wake, and you arch into him instinctively, a soft sound escaping your lips.

“Careful,” Taehyun murmurs, pulling back just enough to look at you. His eyes are dark, his pupils blown wide, but there’s something else there, too—a flicker of restraint, like he’s holding himself together by a thread. “You don’t know what you’re starting.”

“Maybe I do,” you whisper, your voice steady even as your heart pounds in your chest. He had you craving something you had never indulged in before, something you knew you would miss as soon as it ended.

For a moment, he just stares at you, like he’s trying to read your mind, to figure out if you mean it. Whatever he sees in your expression seems to be enough, because his lips crash into yours again, his hands gripping you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. He grabbed at your sweater, unzipping it until your frilly tank top was revealed underneath. When his lips leave yours, they trail along your jaw, slow and deliberate.

The feeling of his lips sends a shiver down your spine, and you tilt your head instinctively, giving him more access.“God, you’re dangerous,” he mutters against your skin, his voice rough and almost reverent. His hands move up the expanse of your body and torso cupping your breasts in his hands. A gasp leaves your lip, a chill crawling up your spine.

“These fucking tits.” Taehyun growled. “How has no man ever touched these before?” Your chest heaved as explored the entirety of your upper body, cradling your breasts in his hands. Your heart is pounding in your chest, and the high from the weed feels distant now, overshadowed by the way he’s making you feel. Every nerve in your body is alive, hyper-aware of his every touch, every breath, every unspoken word.

“Take this off.” He growls his lips ghosting over your collarbone as he tugged at your tank top in his big hands. You met his hands at the hem of your tank top, lifting it in one fail swoop over your head. Your top half is now completely bare and out in the open for his eyes to see.

You didn't think his eyes could darken anymore then they already have but to now avail his irises became nearly black pools of desire. Your heart was thumping hard in your chest as your breath left you in harsh pants. He made quick work of running his hands to his grey sweatpants, yanking them down just enough to pull himself out of his boxers. His cock spring free, the rip red and angry.

Your eyes widened at the sheer size of him. He smirked at you with a knowing look. “Cute.” He muttered. “You never seen a dick before or something.” You could tell he meant it as a joke but one single look at your expression made him realize just how little experience you’ve had.

“I..” You trailed “I haven’t.” Your face was flush red from the embarrassment of your admittance, you hadn't even really watched porn. Seeing a dick was so obscure to you, so unheard of.

“Come here.” Taehyun softly said as he held his hand out for you to take. You lifted your legs to gently maneuver your body over the center console of the car. The sudden movement coupled with the high that was still lingering had you feeling a bit dizzy.

You sat on Taehyun’s lap. His hard cock now resting against your thigh. Awkwardly and out of instinct you lifted your arms to cover your breasts that were now smack dab in his face. A man’s dream you thought to yourself.

“No, don’t do that princess.” He took a hold of your arms gently in his hands pulling them back until they were at your sides. “Don’t hide.” He toyed with the hem of your shorts and he brought his other hand to your hips, gently guiding your hips to rock back and forth against his cock.

A gasp fell from your lips at the movement. He started slowly rocking your hips steadily against his to create just the perfect amount of friction. Your clit throb in your shorts wishing you were completely bare against him.

“That feel good?” He asked you with a grit to his teeth trying his hardest to keep his groans at bay. You nodded dumbly, a whimper falling from your lips as you continued to allow him to guide your hips against his.

“I..i think i need more.” Your voice was airy, a sigh that sounded a lot like a moan slipped from your lips. “More, please.”

“Hm.” He hummed grabbing ahold of your hips with both of his hands, his grip tighter than it had been all night. “Pretty little princess wants more huh?” He was teasing you, rocking your hips faster against him.

“Y-yes!” You squealed, as a foreign feeling twisted in your stomach, the intensity knocking you forward trying to steady yourself on his chest.

The sudden stop of your hips had you whining as Taehyun roughly gripped your hips in his hands stopping your movements. “The first time you cum will be with my cock buried deep inside of you. Not from you grinding on it like a needy little whore, do you hear me?”

“Taehy-” You began to whine.

“Do.you.hear.me?” He asked again tougher this time as he snaked his hand up your neck to the nape grabbing a fist full of your hair in his hands yanking your face to be level with his.

“Yes!” You repeated for the second time tonight. “Want your cock..”

“Good girl.” Taehyun let go of your hair soothing the spot with his palm. “Let's get these shorts off now, yeah?” You nodded with a hum as you lifted yourself off his lap to give Taehyun easy access to slide your shorts and panties down at the same time.

“Are you going ok?” He ran his hands up and down your sides soothingly.

“I am” You reassured him. You bent your face down to meet his lips in a short kiss as you pulled away Taehyun smirked, chasing your lips with his own, causing a giggle to leave you.

His hand reached down, carefully circling your heat with his fingers. “You're so wet.” He hissed, dipping a finger slightly inside your awaiting core. Your breath hitched in your throat as you watched him toy with your pussy lip and clit delicately. Your legs slightly shook from the touch of him.

“I think you’re ready.” He nodded more to himself than you. “You think you’re ready baby?” The pet name caught you off guard stunting your ability to answer so instead you nod.

“I need your words.” He said, more harsh than you expected.

“I’m ready.” You confirmed. His hands found your hips once again, lifting you up until the tip of his dick was lined up at your entrance. The knot in your stomach tightened as the reality of what was about to happen set in. You were really about to lose your virginity. Here in a car, in the middle of the night to a boy you had just officially tonight. The thought excited you? It was so purely unlike you that you couldn’t wait to do it.

Taehyun helped guide you down on his length, the stretch of him burning as you slowly moved down inch by inch on his cock. “Oh.” You squeaked, using Taehyun’s shoulder as leverage. “Oh-” You said again. The one syllable seems like the only word you could even begin to utter.

“Careful.” Taehyun grit the words out. “That’s it.”

The feeling of him inside you had tears pricking your eyes as the intensity of the moment took over.

“Stay still princess” Taehyun’s voice was soft as he gave you instructions on how to take him, talking you through it. You sat still on his lap as his cock was not fully satiated inside of you. The feeling was odd..a good odd. You felt full, entirely consumed by him. The dead of night surrounding you adds onto the ambience.

“Move whenever you want sweetheart, you're in charge.” The heat of his hands on your bare skin coupled with the heat in the car and the weed lingering in your veins gave you the boost of confidence you needed to lift yourself up and slam yourself back down on his cock. Carefully at first, testing the waters. Taehyun’s grunt of pleasure only adds to the fire growing inside of you. You needed to make him feel good, it was now the most important part of this.

“Fuck” He grunted as he leaned his head back against the seat heavily lidded eyes looking up at you as you bounced atop him. The pleasure was creeping up on you, the burn now a dull feeling easily forgotten about. “Keep doing that.”

His praise served as a catalyst for you to keep moving your hips up and down on his cock. Your thighs shaking at the overwhelming pleasure and the workout you were receiving.

“So good.” You whimpered out, the only sounds around you were the ones of the constant smacking of your ass against his lap and the moans you let slip from your mouth uncontrollably.

“Good girl.” Taehyun babbled, resetting his arms behind his head, watching you. “That’s a good fucking girl, fucking that cock for the very first time.”

“Am i doing good?” You chased his praise almost as fast as you chased your impending orgasm, the heat pooling in the bottom of your belly like the fire getting ready to boil over and explode.

“Yeah baby, you're doing so good. Keep bouncing on my cock. Just like that.” Soft mews left your lips reaching your fingers out to drag down Taehyun’s clothed chest.

“Can I help you out?” Taehyun pants desperately pawing at your hips. “If it hurts, let me know, I'll stop right away.”

“Ok.” You whimpered pathetically. You'd allow him to do anything to you right now just as long as you continued to feel as good as you were. His hands gripped your hands tightly in his hands before shooting his hips up with one single snap.

A gasp of surprise left your lips as he reached angles you didn't even know was possible.

“Holy-” You breathed out “Fuck, fuck.”

Taehyun’s hips snapped up drilling his cock into your weeping hole over and over. His balls lewdly slapping the underside of your ass. “I’m close.” He hissed, not letting up on his thrusts.

“M-me too, I think.” You winced at the mixture of pain and pleasure consuming you. The feeling that bubbled up inside of you waiting to explode like a ticking time bomb.

“This tight fucking pussy wont ket me go.” Taehyun’s words sent you flying towards your orgasm, becoming a mess of yourself on top of him. He followed suit not longer after pushing his hips inside of you a few more times before stilling himself.

“Fuck.” He huffed rubbing the sides of your thighs as rested your head against his chest trying to catch your breath.

“Are you ok?” He asked with a slightly worried tone.

“So good.” You said raising your head to look at him. “Thank you”

“For the sex?” He quirked an arrogant brow at you, a laugh bubbling in his chest.

“Well, yes and the weed, and teaching me how to smoke it and-”

“Ok, ok” He laughed. “No need to thank me so much.”

“But I do.” You said with sincerity. “You helped me alot tonight.”

“I can always do it again..” He trailed off with a slightly nervous tone in his voice.

“Is this a drug dealer's way off asking me out after taking my weed and literal virginity in his car?” You joked, sending him a goofy grin. He shrugged in an attempt at being nonchalant despite his best efforts.

“Is this the goody two shoes princess saying yes?” His tone was just as goofy and airy as the both of you felt.

“It is.” You smiled at him. “Yes, a thousand times over.”

“Eager are we?” Taehyun jokes. You laughed, hitting his chest lightly. “Shut up and fuck me again Taehyun.”

“Don't have to ask me twice.”

taglist. @st1llm0nster , @blossommi , @beomiracles, @kkamismom12 , @izzyy-stuff , @biteyoubiteme , @hyukascampfire , @thetxtdevil

#txt imagines #kang taehyun #kang taehyun imagines #kang taehyun smut #tomorrow x together x reader #tomorrow x together smut #taehyun #taehyun imagines #taehyun smut #diet pepsi #tomorrow x together imagines #hmusunoo #tomorrow x together #k pop x reader #fluff #angst #tomorrow x together taehyun #taehyun x reader #kang taehyun x reader

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chaoticwriting · 2 days ago

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Danny X Cass Part 4

They arrive at the pantry in just a moment. Danny, Cass and the rest of the batfam go to take their seat while Clark and Diana go to make some teas and snacks. Danny and Cass sit beside each other with the other side of Cass being Spoiler. Opposite of Danny is Bruce while beside him are Nightwing and Robin. Red Robin takes a chair and sits right behind Batman while still taping on his wrist computer.

Batman, Nightwing and Robin keep staring at Danny while Clark and Diana prepare the snacks and teas but Danny doesn't look nervous at all. As much as Danny wants to take all of them seriously, he really can't when he knows what he knows.

A moment later Clark and Diana come with 2 trays of snacks and teas and put them on the table. They take a chair each and sit near the end of the table. Clark and Diana can feel the intense glares from 3 bats. Both of them glance at the target in question and they can see that the guy takes the glare with stride. It's like the person that is being glared at is someone else.

Suddenly, a loud ding sounded in the room. Danny takes out his phone and a grin spreads on his face. Danny shows the screen to Cass and she also releases a few giggles. Feeling the glares becoming more intense, Danny puts his phone on the table and lets everyone see what he is seeing.

On his phone is a selfie of Dan holding a bloodied Darkseid in one hand with a caption "Can't even give out a decent fight. Even Boxy is a better sparring partner than him." Another message entered Danny's phone and there is a selfie of Elle with Danny's clone bitch slapping Trigon in the background. "This place is so cool. You gotta bring me here to play more." Danny shows the rest of the heroes that the deed is done and they finally relax. Clark stands up from his table and goes back to the other room to inform the other heroes that the threat had already been taken care of.

Danny then puts back his phone and continues drinking his tea. Heh. They might think that they are being scary but they don't even know even now Danny is still flirting with Cass. That's one of the benefits of being able to read the opponent's body language and ghost speak. To others holding hands is just holding hands but to them, holding hands can be used to convey all of your emotions.

They stay like that for a while longer until Clark returns from the other room. Seeing Clark fully seated, Bruce finally speaks.

"Who are you really?" Bruce asks with the most intimidating voice he can use.

"Didn't I say? I'm Danny Phantom. High King of Infinite Realm etc etc. I have a lot of titles but the high King one is the only important one." Danny says carelessly.

"How old are you?" Bruce asks.

"20"

"Impossible." Red Robin suddenly interjects.

"Why is it impossible?" Danny looks curiously at him. He genuinely doesn't know why it is impossible.

"There are records of you all across time all the way back to the ancient human. There are even traces of you in multiple pantheons." Red Robin says.

"Oh, you mean that. Duh, it's easy. I time travel. It's quite easy to time travel when your pops is the master of time." Danny says.

"But didn't you say Clockwork hates when someone messes with time?" Superman asks.

"If there is a time traveler that messes with the timeline, who do you think will deal with the guy? It certainly ain't that old man. He sends me to deal with the time traveler/magician who are trying to change the timeline." Danny says.

"Is Clockwork your father then?" Diana asks.

"Adopted parents. He is my parents/mentor for anything ghost related. Well actually for most things related except personal human problems." Danny says.

"How long have you known Black Bat?" Nightwing asks. Finally the real question.

"Wait, I think 10 years now. You are 21 right Cass? I remember when I first met her she was being chased down by this weird ninja. After I shot a few of them down with my Fenton Taser, Cass handled the rest of them. She then passed out from exhaustion and I brought her to my secret hideout (A cave Danny found just then). After a few days, Cass fully recovered and since then, she and I have been meeting every few months whenever she comes around."

"Also, I know all of your real identity. The phrase 'Dead man tells no tales' is a complete bs by the way. The ghosts really like gossiping. Like that one time I heard a ghost say that he sees Bruce fall into the dumpster because his grappling hook is jammed. Or that one time Dick got catcalled by an old lady."

The bats (except Cass)froze when they hear that Danny knows their secret identity. Bruce sighs and takes off his cowl followed by the rest of the family.

"Do you also know my identity, Danny?" Clark asks.

"Yes, I know you Kal-el. Your parents are very proud of what you have become."

"You met Ma and Pa?"

"Your biological parents."

"You- you've met my parents?" Clark's voice shakes. Danny nods while smiling warmly.

"If you want, I can set up a meeting with your parents. Not for long of course. It's not good for a mortal to be inside the realm for too long. And that invitation extends to all of you."

Most of them stilled at that invitation.

#danny phantom #dead silent #danny x cass #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #batfam #cassandra cain #justice league

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pawbean-soda · 2 days ago

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1/ this is toby, so fictionkin and also a dog, so therian.

2/ I don't really think of them as types personally, feels kinda weird to me. Maybe it's a fictive/headmate thing. I'm a guy named toby (da one from creepypasta) and sometimes also a dog

3/ I get dog tail shifts sometimes, but their somewhat uncommon. Mostly I think the brain automatically looks for one because leopard, the other common fronter, almost always has one of some kind. Apart from that I just exist as toby, Maybe it's a fictive thing?

4/ take toby Rodgers, remove the pending murder charges, put him in a house, give him half done cookie batter for him to whisk, and that's me your looking at.

5/ I think it's great. I'm not very involved in it yet, but I want to be.

6/ clothes probably. I have a flannel that I really like, makes me feel a whole lot more like myself. My alterhumanity is also tied up in gender for me (trans man) so my binder. Baking also does this for some reason.

7/ I call it gender dysphoria alot because the biggest difference between my expected body and the one I get is gender. it's species/source dysphoria though. I want to claw off my face for the same reason I want top surgery.

8/ Read. Read lots. The best thing you can do right now is research. Not just a little bit, not just on the species you think you are or the branch or alterhumans you belong to, but all of it and in a large quantity.

9/ getting my hoodie back would be cool, or hoodie replacement I guess. it would be hard to find though. Nobody makes hoodies in both the pattern and texture that I would want/need.

10/ past life. I worship a death god/Psychopomp and maybe he put me here as a healing, learn to be a person thing?

11/ sorry, I got no friends. Not in the alterhuman community at least.

If you are a alterhuman, reblog and answer these questions!

(don't be afraid to write a lot, do what you want ¯⁠\⁠_⁠(⁠ツ⁠)⁠_⁠/⁠¯)

1/ Which category of alterhumanity do you belong to?

2/ What/who is/are your type(s)? (if you have any)

3/ Do you experience shifts? If so, can you tell us your most common shifts and your strangest cameo shift (if you've ever had a cameo shift)?

4/ How do you experience your alterhumanity in everyday life?

5/ What do you think of the community?

6/ What are the things that make you most comfortable and euphoric in your alterhumanity?

7/ Are you experiencing species dysphoria?

8/ What advice would you like to say to a young alterhuman who has just awakened?

9/ Do you have/want to have gears?

10/ Do you know/have any theories about the origin of your alterhumanity? If so, tell us! (all beliefs are legitimate)

11/ Tag someone/a creature to answer these questions!ㅤᵕ̈

#toby🦊🪻#fiction kin #fictive

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sp0o0kylights · 7 hours ago

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Part One

A large part of the Steve Harrington lore was that he left his throne, his popularity, childhood best friends behind--for Nancy Wheeler.

This was a lie.

It wasn’t even one he encouraged--and Steve had done some damage control in the aftermath of that whole thing with the tunnels.

He volunteered, dropped hints to the right crowd.

It took time, but eventually, his insistence that he’d changed, left his old crew behind to become a better version of himself, began to stick.

Or at least it did with the people who mattered.

It took Starcourt for him to realize that wasn’t really the truth either.

Steve did want to be a better person. He was working actively on being a better person.

But…

(But he still heard screams from a bus in the junkyard when he slept. Felt fear lick down his spine as he charged in, knowing he was the only thing standing between three dumb kids and a painful, shitty death.

But he still heard Dustin, full of conviction, tell his friends that Steve was the only person he could find.

But now he had a “bad” shoulder, a “twinge” in his ribs, and a head that was plagued by migraines, all of which made him look in the mirror and ask himself “What if I hadn’t gone with them?)

…you couldn’t be there for someone, couldn’t protect someone, if you were too busy playing high school bullies with your friends.

Robin would likely argue these were simply the reasons he wanted to be a better person, but Robin now ranked as one of Steve’s top 10 personal regrets--even if he was pretty sure they’d become best friends.

Because Steve was the oldest. He’d graduated high school for fucks sake, he should have shut Dustin down the second he realized what was happening was legitimate.

He absolutely should not have let Robin get involved and Erica--

He can’t even really think about Erica, no matter how much Erica herself argues elsewise.

At the very least, Steve can admit to himself he protected them in the end.

Got beat to shit and had to fake his death alongside Hopper to do it, but they all got out.

Alive.

Unscathed.

Hopefully to put this whole fucking thing past them once Owens finished cleaning house in the government.

Unfortunately life--and Eddie fucking Munson--was not ready to put anything to rest.

Munson in fact, seemed hellbent on disturbing what he could--and Steve, wholly haunted by the fact the kids always came to him, couldn’t let him do it alone.

At least, he thought with grim distaste, as he followed Munson’s weaving path to the ruins of Starcout, he was getting his car out of it.

xXx

Uncanny valley doesn’t do Steve’s feelings justice.

Starcourt was laid out in a giant L, and coming at it from the outer edges like he and Munson did means everything looks disturbingly normal.

Off putting, if only because it’s 10 in the morning and not a soul is in the mall, but otherwise?

Like nothing ever went wrong.

As they move closer to the center, things begin to unravel.

It’s not noticeable at first. Not unless you’re looking. The litter on the floor, the little piles of weird looking debris.

The stains.

Nothing that outwardly screams “something horrible happened here” but it's coming--and though Munson is creeping along just as quietly as Steve is, he knows the guy isn’t on edge in the same way.

Why would he be? Nothing Steve said had managed to deter him, and given Steve can’t exactly explain what happened or why he’s playing possum, Munson was plenty confident about going forward with his little B&E.

At least not until they finally turn the corner, and the destruction hits them full force.

Glass and chunks of plaster cover the ground like confetti. Lights hang sideways or lay smashed on the floor, as do pieces of doors (and railings and half of the entire upper floor.)

The place looks like something out of a disaster film--which Steve supposes, is exactly what it is.

If the disaster was supernatural in nature, and also caused by a giant monster made out of the melted flesh.

(God, his life was weird.)

“What the hell happened here?” Eddie said, eyes wide as he took in the damage.

Steve tried to imagine what it must look like for him. Looked at the scene and tried to pretend he was someone who wasn’t in the know, who thought the mall had been destroyed by a fire and subsequent structural collapse.

Could almost convince himself one could buy it--if it weren’t for the smears of blood that still stained the floor.

He stared at said smears, trying to match up which puddle was the one Billy died in, in comparison to all the other stains that the feds hadn’t bothered to remove.

Recalled the way Max screamed, fighting her way towards her step-brother when he finally fell.

The yell Billy himself had let out, when he’d managed to shake off the Mindflayer, long enough to give El the time she needed.

Steve hadn’t really thought about it until now.

Billy’s death.

Hadn’t really had time too, given Owens had pulled him and a handful of others out of the ambulance and forced them into hiding.

(From the fucking Russians still hanging around, apparently, though that had been Owens flimsy excuse. Murray and Hopper and long guessed it was something far closer to home.

“You ever think about how weird that was? That Russians made it to Hawkins and no one ever noticed?” Hopper had asked, a beer in the same hand that had an IV sticking out of the back of it. “Given the lab was right across town you think they’d be watching for that kinda thing.”

“Please Jim, I am begging you, for once, to use your head. They didn’t get here without assistance and they certainly didn’t do it without help from our own government.” Murray had scoffed in return.

He held two lit cigarettes in his hand, and was reaching for a third.

“Why the hell would the US military let in Russians?"

“An excellent question, and I’ll return it with one of my own. If we assume we are being lied too, and all the Russians are actually gone, why would Owens still need to hide us?"

“...Fuck.”

“Fuck indeed.”)

Now, Steve found he had all the time in the world to contemplate Billy Hargrove and his mostly unnoticed possession. His supposed sacrifice.

Had it redeemed him, the way movies and TV shows always said that kind of death, did?

Steve imagined the sneered grin on Billy’s face that night at the Byers. Felt phantom knuckles brush across his face, the fury that had ignited within him when Billy hadn’t gone for him, but for Lucas.

Compared it to his own fight with Jonathan in ‘82.

The words he’d allowed Tommy to spray upon the theater sign regarding his own girlfriend. The camera he’d destroyed.

The demogorgon in the Byers house, lights flashing as it tore through the wall.

If things had been different, if Steve hadn’t survived back then--would people wonder the same things about him? Would they ask themselves if his sacrifice was worth it--if it proved he was a good person, under it all?

“Harrington?”

Steve jumped, startling when Munson nudged him.

“You good, man?” He asked, and Steve almost laughed at him because no, he definitely was not good.

He can’t say that though, and so he does what he always does. Shoves the thoughts down, puts the feelings back inside a box in his mind.

Lies.

“Yeah--fine.” He said, brushing off his staring. “Come on, Scoops is that way.”

He gestures, ignoring the concerned look that’s overtaken Munson’s face.

Panicking he knows, will not get his keys back, and neither will it help him learn what idiot is poking around the Upside Down this time.

Because for all of Murray's conspiracies, he doesn’t actually think the feds are Munson’s benefactor. Owens had been inclined to agree, when Steve first reported this entire situation back.

It’s definitely not his parents, who are conveniently overseas in London.

That leaves very little options, including a disturbing possibility of a new player to the game, and given all the green goo Steve had seen, the way they all know it does--something, to help power the gate...

It’d be nice to get ahead of things for once, instead of scrambling to catch up.

(Screw Hopper and Owens and everyone who told Steve to stay out of it.

He knew damn well Munson wouldn’t listen to his warnings.

Wouldn’t back off and definitely wouldn’t leave it alone.

Hopper’s half-delirious (and morphine fueled) rants about this finally being a wakeup call for Munson if he didn’t listen wasn’t going to make up for the blood on Steve's hands if the guy went in there without him and died. )

Walking through Scoop's is almost more unnerving than walking through the mall itself. Likely because Steve spent time here, and seeing it in it's destroyed state--lights off, ice cream melted and fouling the air with the a rancid stench do him no favors.

The You Suck board is laying haphazardly on the floor.

Steve forces himself to walk by it, and breathes only through his mouth.

“Your locker, my liege!” Munson crows as they enter the back part of Scoop’s, throwing out an arm at it like he’s presenting a game show prize. “Shall we see if the treasure we seek is behind door number one?”

Steve rolls his eyes, but remains quiet as he steps up and enters his combination.

It swings open as easily as it ever had, and there, hanging from the crooked hook, is the car keys Steve is so desperately after.

Munson throws his hands in the air, like Steve’s just shot the winning basket of a game.

“Score!” He yells, and Steve grins reflexively even as he shushes him.

“Now," Munson says dramatically, "the hunt begins for our second prize.”

Steve rolls his eyes.

“I told you I don’t have a class ring.”

“And yet they have me searching for one anyway.” Like a hound zeroing in on a trail, he immediately orients to the back of Scoop’s, waltzing through to the backrooms like this was everyday for him.

Given his confusing and handwaved excuse of how he got involved in this, Steve suppose it could be.

(He had decided, sometime between the first and fifth time he’d tried to get Eddie to explain how, exactly he’d been roped into this little mission, that the man could never meet Dustin.

Henderson was already too good at steamrolling over Steve, explaining nothing other than the facts that would force them all to do what the little shit wanted, all the while leading them further into trouble.

He didn’t need to befriend someone like Munson, whose mastery of the same bullshit had him doing, well.

This.)

To the end of the hall Eddie skipped, and Steve kept his eyes on his jacket. Some sort of demon thing was posed on the back, a shirt that had been ripped up and resewn to be a backpatch.

It was better than looking at anything else back here.

It took them no time at all to reach their destination.

The door down had a shiny new lock on it. A big thing, with chains so thick Steve briefly wondered if they were worried about containment.

Had they pulled something through the gate, before it had exploded?

The base was large--larger than Steve had seen, and he'd passed room after room when running around down there.

No one had the time to explore, and one would assume any and all monsters had been removed from the premise but there was always that little tickling feeling.

The one that chanted 'What if...'

Unfortunately, the lock did nothing to detour this little jaunt.

Munson dropped to his knees in front of a door, hair pin in hand. He fiddled with the lock for a moment and Steve took it to visualize how different things might have been if the older teen had been there with them.

How much easier some of it would have been.

(Not that Steve wanted to involve anyone else in this mess.

He'd carry the guilt of dragging Erica and Robin both into it for the rest of his life, not matter what either had to say about the matter. Dustin he knew he couldn't stop, but then, Steve doubted they'd have even made it that far without the girls.)

A click sounded, and Eddie looked up, eyes bright with a wild grin on his face.

“Open sesame.” He purred as he stood, the door opening under his hands. He pushed on it, revealing the dark gaping maw of a stairwell.

Dread hit Steve like a wave.

“We shouldn’t go down there.” He said.

They had already had this conversation, but Steve felt the overwhelming urge to revisit it on grounds that he still isn’t sure how exactly, Munson got him to agree to come in the first place, and also, now that he was thinking of it, because the guy reminded him of Dustin.

“We shouldn’t be here at all.” Munson countered, springing back to his feet. “But some of us need this little thing called money.”

He rubbed his thumb and forefinger together, as if Steve needed the extra visual.

“If you’re giving me the car--and the car keys--what's the point of going after the ring?” Steve tried, staring down the stairwell before him. “Aren’t they gonna like, not pay you for not finding anything?”

Munson made a dismissive noise, waving his hands in the air like he was dispersing smoke.

“Eddie.” Steve said, and knew by the way Munson looked at him that the use of his first name hit as intended. “I mean it, man.”

There was no point in going through with the rest of it. No point at all.

“And I told you I was given a side mission to my main mission, and a little industry secret for ya here Harrington,"

Steve watched as cheshire-cat like grin lit up Munson’s face, in a way eerie similar to Dustin’s gummy smile. "the side missions always pay more.”

“What's under there isn’t--this isn’t--it’s not safe.” Steve fired back, hating how he fumbled the words, like a ball slipping through his hands.

Munson scoffed.

“Life ain’t safe.”

“This is different.” He tried to argue and hated how stubborn Munson was being about this.

It almost made him feel bad about all the time’s Robin had protested.

(Idly Steve wondered if this was how she felt. Like she was getting dragged along--like she had to go.

Did her insides feel scooped out? Stomach hollow and head hurting?

Or had the excitement blinded her too much to feel the way the walls seemed to press in?)

Steve’s gut clenched with worry, and he shook his head to clear the anxiety.

Met Munson's gaze and desperately thought of something to say to convince him to walk away.

Some of that must have bled onto his face, because Munson was giving him an odd, searching look.

“I’ll make you a deal, Steve-O." He said. "You give me two good reasons why we shouldn’t go down there, and if they’re really convincing, I might agree to skip it.”

“I signed NDAs.” Steve sighed, because this was an argument they’d also already had.

Twice in fact--once, when Eddie first found him, alive and very much not dead as reported, and the second time when he approached Steve with his “retrieval project.”

(Both times at the goddamn gas station, which Steve would now be avoiding for life.)

On eyebrow raised. “Over a mallfire?”

“I think,” Steve said dryly, gesturing around to the destruction that surrounded them, “that you’ve figured out it wasn’t a mallfire.”

Technically he wasn't even supposed to say that, but then, Steve had long stopped caring if he actually broke the stupid thing.

The real issue was that the story sounded like something out of a bad horror film--fake and ridiculous. If he tried to explain it, Munson would assume Steve had finally cracked.

Or, more likely, decide he was being made fun of, and react accordingly.

(They couldn't afford to fight here, and neither did Steve want Munson storming off.)

“Well duh. But then, you’re the one who won’t say what really happened here.” Munson waggled his eyebrows in a way that was so cartoony Steve was mildly impressed a person could pull it off.

He sighed a second time.

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

“You keep saying that and you keep not trying me.” Eddie leaned against the door frame. “Come on Harrington. Two reasons.”

Steve tried.

Ran through what might convince Munson to leave it all alone.

Figured the guy was kind of like Dustin, in that he couldn’t be too vague (because it would just intrigue him) and he couldn’t be too honest (because any idiot could see Munson would be all over some kind of government conspiracy.)

“The fact the building might pancake on us at any moment isn't enough?" He asked, unsure if sounding desperate was the right move here (an equally unsure if he could hide it if it was.)

He’d hadn’t tried this route before--hadn’t thought Munson would go for it.

Not when he'd waived off every other attempt Steve could think of, to stop this.

“Nah, I trust my source, this place will hold.” Munson leaned forward, deep into Steve’s space and though Steve waivered back, he let the older teen get close. “You’ve been off ever since we came in here, Harrington. I want to know why.”

“I was in the fire. Munson. I did almost die."

He still had a bruise left to prove it.

"That ain't it and you know it."

"I don't know what else to tell you then." Steve said, angry. why was the guy making this so hard? Why couldn't he just fucking listen!?

“Not even two reasons?”

“There’s not--” Steve closed his eyes, frustrated. “I’ve given you far more than two reasons!”

“Not any good ones.”

“I don’t know what you want from me. "Steve admitted finally. "because I told you, you wouldn’t believe the rest of it--”

Munson didn't let his rant pick up steam. instead he pulled himself back, interrupting Steve.

“Then down the rabbit hole we go, Alice!”

Quick as a flash he was down the stairs and Steve bit back a curse as he rushed to follow.

“Munson--come on, wait!” He yelled back.

Eddie, of course, did no such thing.

It took everything he had in him to rush after, but Steve did it anyway.

What else was he good for?

#uncanny valley #steddie #lmao why did I ever think this was a two parter #starcourt #s4 au #Steve harrington has PTSD #and needs a hug #bad #0o0 fanfics #eddie munson #steve harrington #stranger things #no one ever writes about them going back #time to fix that

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happypeachsludgeflower · 20 hours ago

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SVSSS BRAINWAVE JUST HIT! I HAD A THOUGHT ™

An average modern person transmitigates into SVSSS. Mind you, I specifically mean SVSSS and not PIDW. That’s right, our protagonist awakens to find themselves as a NPC in the world of Scum Villain Self Saving System. And they think to themselves upon waking up, “Oh, I’m an NPC in a xianxia novel with a happy ending! Cool!!” and goes about their life being a background nerd geeking out about plants, and monsters, and cultivation in general, and neat flying swords.

But this is a world of sex pollen and wife plots and unfortunately the cure for a lot of diseases is duel cultivation with a heavenly demon, and we all know who that demon is going to end up marrying, so it’s best to mess around with meta cultivation knowledge and prep for the worst case scenario, and honestly, they may as well solve some of the minor issues in the plot while their at it, so they invent some new cultivation techniques from some of those nifty svsss fanfictions they read while alive (I’m specifically thinking of this fic’s explanation of duel cultivation and cauldrons, but other weird cultivation methods could be used from other fanfics and xianxia books), so they can tidy up some things.

For instance, is it really necessary for Zhuzhi-lang to be stuck as a weird snake creature for nearly twenty years? Is it really needed for Yue Qingyuan to have crippled cultivation due to his sword?? Does Tianlang Jun have to be stuck under a mountain and then escape only to slowly die in a decomposing body??

They know they can’t change everything without the system interfering, but small nudges should help right? After all, they’re just a background NPC and Shen Yuan will show up eventually and everyone will fall in love with him and no one will even notice the NPC’s existence even if they had noticed something was up during their miraculous healing and salvation spree.

So they go about fixing those things. They catch Zhuzhi-lang unawares and feed him a sun and dew mushroom seed while he’s confused and do some funky cultivation shenanigans and pat him on the head cause he’s really such a cute weird snake creature and give him some vague warning about not trusting in laws and then fucks off to somewhere else.

I’m still caught up on Metagaming’s concept of duel cultivation transactions where you give and take—like taking something from someone’s cultivation, not just power, and returning something else—and keep getting stuck in a brainrot loop of the NPC taking some bloodmite powers from Zhuzhi-lang when they gave him a fully humanoid form that’s not reliant on Tianlang Jun. So my main idea for how the NPC plots to hold Yue Qingyuan in place is feeding him lesser bloodmites (not full ones because they only took a minor ability and can only hold someone for a few minutes before the bloodmites die), while they hold Yue Qingyuan still long enough to draw some ritual to heal his soul and separate it from Xuan Su. But honestly, I’m sure other ideas could apply here too. My Metagaming brainrot is just too strong right now to think of any.

And Tianlang Jun? Simple. Zhuzhi-lang’s got a humanoid form and can easily get the sun and dew mountain flowers for himself. They can’t stop the man from being imprisoned entirely. The system says no since Luo Binghe needs a dramatic entrance. So while they can’t stop the tragedy, they can put some pieces into play for an early escape, maybe a new plan to get him a better body once’s he’s back, and be a ferry for Su Xiyan’s body to revive her at some point as well.

It’s nice being an unnoticeable NPC, isn’t it? You can do whatever you want and no one’s going to know!!

Except. Someone does notice (as we all could have seen coming). And Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as fuck of this obnoxious Shidi because he notices everyone due to paranoid, and he’s even MORE suspicious of the mysterious character that healed Yue Qingyuan’s soul (and wasn’t that a doozy of a realization to have when Yue Qingyuan burst into his bamboo house one day freaking out because some disguised, powerful cultivator somehow did the impossible after ambushing him and holding him down as they healed his soul, and Shen Qingqiu is still reeling from learning that Yue Qingyuan’s SOUL was damaged trying to save Xiao Jiu and the stubborn asshole never told him because he apparently assumed Xiao Jiu knew there wasn’t a single universe where Qi ge didn’t try to come for him). And so yea, Shen Qingqiu is suspicious as all hell and starts snooping and plotting to catch the mysterious cultivator by combing through Cang Qiong because whoever it is has to have an in at the sect somewhere to know about Yue Qingyuan’s soul.

And that’s not even mentioning how suspicious Zhuzhi-lang and Tianlang Jun are now. They might not have realized what that strange cultivator did when they did it, or understood the cryptic in law mention, but they certainly have some suspicions now that Tianlang Jun was as imprisoned by in law like people, and Zhuzhi-lang kept his humanoid form just fine without Tianlang Jun, and now the hunt is ON for the mysterious benefactor, so they can repay the kindness and find out what the fuck is going on.

The NPC is, of course, oblivious to all of this going on and goes about their merry way thinking they’re being the Best ™ at being lowkey. They are SO good at being inconspicuous!! They deserve an award really!!

And then. Shen Qingqiu doesn’t qi deviate.

Shen Yuan doesn’t show up.

Oh shit, the NPC thinks to themselves as they begin to panic. They even check Shen Qingqiu out themselves to see if it’s Shen Yuan just being really good at acting. Maybe he was a better actor in the book than he gave himself credit for or something?? But no. That’s Shen Qingqiu all right. Shen Yuan is missing in action, and someone has to fix the plot of Cang Qiong is doomed.

Thus begins the NPC’s journey to try and unobtrusively fix PIDW’s child abuse problems (that they’re unaware are already fixed), save Liu Qingge from his qi deviation in Ling Xi Caves, make sure Luo Binghe doesn’t raze the sect to the ground someday and hopefully find him some sort of husband replacement to keep him under control when he does return, possibly dispose of the Huan Hua Palace Master at some point because he’s vile trash, and did I mention there are multiple man hunts for this poor oblivious dude currently on going??

And the most important question for them to solve? Where the fuck did Shen Yuan go??

Hmm I wonder where that man could have gone.

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hibiscusol · 2 days ago

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ִֶָ𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ sailor song, one. ་༘🌊࿐

masterlist ｡𖦹°‧ welcome page ｡𖦹°‧ series masterlist

── ‧₊ ᵎᵎ pairing: jj maybank x reader

── ‧₊ ᵎᵎ sypnosis: after your best friend sarah and his new pogue boyfriend get lost at sea, you find comfort in the only person who understands you. and weirdly, that person is a pogue, the jj maybank.

── ‧₊ ᵎᵎ warnings: language and mentions of alcohol

── ‧₊ ᵎᵎ author's note: yeah, this is my way of coping. i miss the man. anyways lmk if u like it or if u have any ideas for the next chapters!

────🫐────

“Oh, shit, my bad,” The blond boy whispers after colliding with you, all your books dropping to the ground. You look up and see him, the tall blond pogue rarely present at school. You nod and walk past him, not paying much attention. It wouldn’t be a good thing to be seen with him and his friends, especially after Sarah and the Routledge guy’s death.

Everybody’s going through it. The Camerons have been grieving in their… own ways. Rafe, the eldest child of the Camerons has not been seen in days. Someone said they’d seen him smoking weed in his dealer’s backyard. Guess his sister’s death made him hit rock bottom.

And as for her new pogue boyfriend, John B, no one cares. No one knew him other than his few friends, one of them being the old kook Kiara Carrera. Well, they’re like a weird cult always up to some shit. They’ve chosen their place.

The missing posters have been up for a while. No one really believes it, they couldn’t have survived a storm like that. You’ve been trying to handle it. In your room for days, thinking about the empty spaces your best friend Sarah would fill. Thinking about how she’d gotten distant the past few days. Not telling you where she was going, not telling you about the new guy. You blamed yourself for it. Maybe if you’d tried to talk to her more a few days before she died, she wouldn’t have gone with him.

When the thoughts get too loud during English class, you excuse yourself and leave. You walk through the hallways and outside the school, sitting on a nearby bench. No one said a word to you. No one said you were allowed to grief too. Like you weren’t her best friend. Were you?

You take a deep breath and look around, making sure no one saw you leave school grounds. That’s when you see him again. The blond boy.

He walks out of school as well, looking around and spotting you. He scoffs, and as much as he tries to find a way to avoid you, you’re sitting on the only bench that’s out here. He slowly walks over. “Can I sit-?” He says and you nod. “Yeah. Go ahead.” You say and look away, pulling your legs into your stomach, hugging your calves.

He sits down as far away on the bench from you as possible, taking a deep breath. A few minutes of silence go by. “I heard you were her friend.” He says, breaking the silence.

“What?” You whisper, surprised he would actually talk to you. “I said I heard you were Sarah’s best friend.” He repeats, looking at you this time. He looks… decent.

“Yeah. I was.” you say, looking away from him. “That was before your friends showed up, though.” You say and roll your eyes. He nods, his lips pressing together.

“We didn’t do shit. She wanted to join us, so she did.” He says defensively. “Well, she got dragged into all the criminal stuff that you do. She didn’t know what type of people you were.” I say, sitting straight. I have the time today.

“John B did not kill Peterkin.” He says frowning. “Sure, he didn’t.” You say and he frowns again. “I’m being serious. He did not.”

“You think I’m just gonna believe you because you said so? What even was your name again?” I say and roll my eyes. Yes, exactly the way I imagined a pogue to be. “No, but I’m saying that you’re judging without getting to know us.” He pauses for a second, almost like he’s pondering if he should say or not. “I’m JJ. JJ Maybank.”

Oh, JJ Maybank. With the dad. He works for your father. Or maybe worked. Poor guy was definitely an addict.

“I know your dad.” You blurt out, and the way his face falls tells you you hit a sore spot. You look away. “He… he worked for my dad.” You elaborate, looking down at your shoes.

A few moments pass by and when you turn to look at him again, he’s off the bench, walking away. You frown, watching him walk away. Weird. Why’d he just walk away like that?

You sigh and look ahead into the trees in front you. The back of the school where the students have done everything. A few minutes later, a voice startles you again. “Hey, sorry, I was…”

You jump, letting out a low gasp as you sit up straighter. “What the fuck, Maybank? I thought you left and then you…” You say before he stretches his hand out, a necklace in his palm. Your eyes widen as you notice what it is. The S necklace. With Sarah’s initial on it.

“We found this at the chateau. The chateau is… um, our place, kind of. She’d left it there.” He says as you shakily take it from him.

“We didn’t force her into anything…” “Shut up, Maybank.” You say as you put the necklace around your neck. “Just… I don’t wanna hear it.”

He nods, taking a deep breath as he takes a step back, holding his hands up in surrender. “I’m just being nice, Kook.” Oh, now he’s getting sassy. You roll your eyes, unwrapping your arms from around your legs and letting your feet touch the ground as you stand up. “Yeah, well, you could’ve been nice by saving her before she was dead.” I roll my eyes as I grab my backpack, throwing it over my shoulder. You’re mad at everyone and everything. You’re mad at Sarah for leaving you here, and you’re mad at being neglected. She was your best friend. And the moment she left, suddenly she was everyone else’s.

“Wait.” JJ’s voice cuts through your thoughts and your feel your heart ache. The few soft streams of light have found their way from in between trees and leaves onto his blond hair and blue eyes and you take a deep breath, mentally shaking yourself. Stop.

“We both lost our best friends. If there’s anyone who knows what you’re going through, it’s me. Yeah, I don’t like you and you don’t like me. But… be decent.” He nods, as if he wants you to agree. Your hands tighten on the straps on your backpack and you nod after a second. “I… Yeah. Sure. I… I’m Y/N.”

“Yeah, okay.” He nods, running a hand through his hair. “I know who you are.” You tear your gaze away from him and take deep breaths until you get inside. The moment you get inside the school bathroom, tears are rolling down your face and you let out quiet sobs, turning to the bathroom and kicking a bathroom door open, walking in and locking door. Her necklace around your neck feels like it’s choking you, and you press your palms against your temples, tears running down your cheeks and neck.

How long is it gonna feel like this?

────🫐────

#outer banks #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x you #jj maybank #outer banks fic #jj maybank fluff #jj maybank headcannons #obx fanfiction #jj obx #jj outer banks

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novantinuum · 3 days ago

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Reformation ref sheet for an AU Steven (named "Astra") who's been invading my brain since like,, April. It's VERY wide, apologies. There's a lot going on here because this man is incredibly old and has poofed way too many times for varying reasons. (See This post for how I headcanon that Steven can poof and still be considered a hybrid being.)

While I will not talk in huge length about certain aspects of his AU on this blog due to some of it involving strong NSFW themes, there is a ridiculous amount of other lore I've developed over time for Astra, and I love him to death. He is my sad, lonely mans who I metaphorically hurl against the wall like a sticky hand when I need to feel something.

This version of Steven will likely never have any kind of full ass fic or comic made about him. Despite that, I do enjoy sharing some art and fun character lore for him from time to time. So, I might as well finally give followers like... literally ANY context for him. I've had this ref sheet for a while and just have never gotten around to throwing it on here, LOL.

Ridiculously long dump about my guy under the cut.

Subnote, this was supposed to be a quick post but I can't help myself and wrote you a fucking BOOK under the cut because I love my guy so much UWU

(Content warning I guess for like, extremely vague mentions of Steven/Steven later on.)

The huge tl;dr of Astra is as follows: he's a version of Steven who exists for SO long that he basically transforms into something of an ancient, lonely god.

He's outlived every single person he once knew as a child, and so as a result is starved for affection. At the same time, being vulnerable is the absolute scariest thing for him and he's really shit at navigating relationships, F.

The guy is THE most powerful living creature in his entire universe by the end, and yet remains a soft-spoken, (generally) benevolent soul. He dedicates himself to acting as caretaker for the vast, populous world he exists within, and to maintain the continuing legacy of Gemkind. A big discovery that occurs in this AU is that Gems are in fact susceptible to entropy over the span of millions of years and will eventually fall "inert," (but not him because of weird hybrid biology stuff he honestly sees as more of a curse than a blessing) so a huge plotline early on in Astra's lifespan is trying to either find a "cure" for this issue or to develop a means by which new generations of Gems can be created without the reinstatement of Kindergartens so Gemkind doesn't overtly go extinct.

But, to start... this Steven diverges off a point in canon- this is the timeline where he actually takes up the Diamonds on their offer of the throne in the movie, believing he may have a better chance of heralding true societal change working from the INSIDE rather than stepping away. Because he pours himself so thoroughly into his role on Homeworld and his mind is continuously occupied by this purpose, he never experiences the events SU: Future, nor does he develop his "pink mode" (yet...) or corrupt at all.

However, he's also so engrossed in his work that he's... kind of a shit boyfriend to Connie as years go on. (In that he's not terribly attentive... always super busy... their visits are often cut short, or few and far between.) Their relationship never really goes anywhere as a result, though Connie wants it to. To be fair so does Steven, but he's so scared that everything he's worked so hard to organize and set up in this new era will fall apart if he steps aside from his role for even a moment that he can't allow himself to follow that want.

At some point here he learns he can poof through a complete freak accident, and that's where things really begin to change in this timeline.

It takes a good few months for him to reform, but once he does he's back at it with all his work on Homeworld pretty quick.

The thing is... he doesn't have an innate physical need to eat or drink or sleep anymore, because he now consists of entirely hard light. It mimics human biology to an insane degree, so he COULD do all those things, but he doesn't need them to persist. So... he kinda takes this as an excuse to cut those activities out of his schedule entirely so he can spend more time focused on his duties as a diamond.

Connie is NOT a fan of this, and this leads to some debate and tension within their relationship. That being said, they remain an item...

Up until out of nowhere, Connie dies in an accident on Earth while Steven is off planet in a place where he doesn't have any contact with them for a few days. By the time the Gems are able to get in touch with him, it's far too late to resurrect her.

The kicker? In the autopsy it's discovered that she was a few weeks pregnant when she died.

Steven is emotionally gutted by this... and the thought of what could have been... and poofs.

The guy is understandably destroyed when he comes back in his next form, and his form reflects that- his gem flips as a sort of metaphorical severing from his own humanity.

He spends a long while in a deep depression at the loss of his childhood sweetheart... at the loss of any potential for (as far as he sees) a "normal" human life. There's a part of him that resents the choices he's made to end up in this present, but like, there's still work to be done.

And as the years move on, a LOT of that work is mitigating the growing relations (for better or for worse) between Gems and humans as humanity stretches their legs and reaches out into the stars. Humans kinda get... really aggressive in their expansion though, and quite territorial, and it leads towards some inevitable conflict between them and Gemkind. This time, with them more at fault. Things get so spicy that some groups of humans and Gems go to war.

Steven tries to mitigate one of these situations at the front lines- and gets poofed by a disgruntled Gem, speared straight through the back because she (kinda wrongly) assumed he would take the humans' side due to his ancestral ties to them.

When he reforms this time, he is glowing a perpetual pink. The Gems don't really know what to make of this, but he seems to be in perfectly fine health otherwise, so they assume it's just a normal aspect of this new neutral form.

And while this isn't something Steven has context to figure out until like... billions of years later, what's actually happened is that he's entered a permanent pink mode, pretty much. Guy's just got that much bottled up, unaddressed trauma.

He spends a long time in this form, and over all these thousands of years oversees the slow return to peace between Gems and humans... their marriage as a space age federation... and their deeper exploration of the galaxy. Beyond their home solar systems exist a bounty of alien species they've yet to meet... some friendly, some less so. There's definitely some conflict that crops up amidst the local galactic neighborhood when Gems and humans show up on the playing field here, lol.

But all-in-all, Steven develops a fairly peaceful and predictable routine during this reformation- living more like a Gem than ever before. He's still got the Crystal Gems at his side through all of this, and they are some of his greatest confidants.

And then... without any warning... Gems begin to go inert. Amethyst is among them.

Some of them simply stop reforming after they poof... especially those who were older Gems, or who have been cracked before. Steven and the other Diamonds using their powers together are able to "fix" this at first and "jumpstart" their reformation, but it's just a bandaid of a fix- these Gems will fall inert again pretty soon. And the longer they persist without poofing from alternate causes, the more unstable their form, power, and memory becomes. (Think of this as Gem dementia at its late stages,,, oof.)

The bottom line? Just like organics, Gems aren't immune to the forces of entropy. Sooner or later, their gemstones will decay from the inside out. Stubborn to find a way to save the ones he loves as he watches them slowly deteriorate all around him, Steven dedicates himself to trying to find a cure. But deep down, a part of him recognizes the futility of this. What he believes Gemkind actually needs to do is to develop a means of rebooting Gem incubation that doesn't destroy planets, so they can rebuild their quickly dwindling population and keep their legacy alive.

The big problem with this is that Gems take a SHIT load of energy and resources to properly incubate, so that puzzle will take a long ass time to sort out. There's kinda a lot of chaos that happens during this time. The reality of their own blunt mortality freaks out a bunch of Gems, and Steven has to do damage control with the heads of state for a lot of other alien species.

In the interim, all the Crystal Gems and some of the Diamonds (White is still in the picture, though) end up falling inert. Pearl is the last of the CGs to do so.

Steven is understandably SUPER gutted about this, and poofs yet again. (Lol notice a theme? Poor mans keeps poofing from friggin' anguish. Help him.)

After reforming with barely any changes, it's right back to work for this guy. He and the rest of his team of researchers are unable to find any cure for Gems decaying and falling inert, but they do end up making huge leaps and bounds in other kinds of tech. One of these advances allows Steven to finally deep-scan his own gemstone down to the atomic level to check for decay- this was previously a process that was very invasive, and came at the risk of irreparably damaging a Gem, but not anymore.

He expects to find evidence of the same micro decay that's been slowly eating away at the rest of Gemkind within his OWN diamond, but the thing is...

He just... ISN'T decaying at all? Even though the sheer age of this gemstone itself should suggest otherwise? As it turns out though, his existence as a hybridized being makes him kind of... an anomaly. When he first reformed all those thousands of years ago, all the data within his gem- data that would otherwise be susceptible to decay- was translated into genetic material. DNA that's woven entirely out of hard-light... but, DNA that has also been constantly regenerating itself thanks to a combination of all the intricate biochemistry surrounding the human telomere and his healing powers.

In other words, he is incapable of falling inert from natural causes, like micro decay. He's functionally immortal. Unless someone shatters him (or... heaven forbid... he shatters himself) he simply can't die.

Which, all of a sudden, makes his race to save Gemkind from their quickly approaching extinction all the more personal. Because if he FAILS- then he'll be the very last of Gemkind. There will be no one else left in this world who is even remotely like him. (Humanity has mixed and mingled with the galactic locals so much by now that they're very much unrecognizable from what they once were.)

His spirit is very nearly broken by this discovery, and he is severely tempted to throw all his own principles out the window and just sanction the construction of new Kindergartens again, if only to keep the dwindling Gem populations up and birth new generations. Perhaps surprisingly, it's White Diamond- the last Gem left who Steven actually knew since the very beginning- who urges him to reconsider. To not give up on his own morality, to not revert all the miraculous changes he's worked for these long few million years.

The big shift in the tides is when he discovers the means to jump to alternate timelines, and thus the existence of the greater multiverse. This allows him to gather intel and ideas from a far greater spectrum of sources.

And eventually... it's with the aid of many alt versions of himself from other lines across the multiverse that leads to him finding a suitable, eco-friendly solution to his Gem incubation problem. (This is the aspect of this AU I cannot discuss in length for discretion's sake. Use your imagination. Or don't, I don't care.)

The following two sections, I'll be talking more about the broad thematics than anything else. At this point, know that there are now new batches of Gems being created all the time. Gemkind is no longer at risk of any extinction, but now- like any stable organic species- new Gems are made at the same rate that they fall inert.

So, the BIGGEST thing here with this reformation is that this is overtly where this guy picks up the name "Astra." Why a name change? Well, after White finally went inert, leaving him the last Diamond in existence within this line, it basically just felt... upsetting to him, to continue to go by a name that every person he ever loved used for him. Thus, the new name is overtly a means to distance himself from that past, and from that pain. (It's also a name he chooses while thinking back to a meaningful conversation he had with White, back before she went inert, oOF. I'll probably yell about that at some point in another post.)

So, too, is the lack of any tangible facial features. He HAS a face, but others just can't see it. He subconsciously obscures it from almost everyone's sight as a means of avoiding vulnerability. One might also have noticed by now that this guy's proportions have gotten like, really strange and sorta "stretched out" over time the larger he becomes... and this is intentional, as it's yet another way he's just becoming more inhuman in form, yet another way he's internally separating himself from those humble human origins of his.

But here's the thing, though.

Deep, deep down, to be human and to live a simple human life is basically all he's ever craved. It's everything he feels he's lost forever, with the death of his Connie. And instead, he's kinda stuck in a hellish sunk cost fallacy of his own making, acting as eternal caretaker for this world that- no matter what he does to try and make it a better place- will never quite be PERFECT. Thus, in his mind, even though he's literally fixed Gemkind's BIGGEST problem, he can't Stop. He can't Rest. He simply can't allow himself himself to lay down and Sink Away into the unknown.

And even if he could allow himself to do so, he is so, so scared of walking that path alone.

If he's going to die... he wants that end to be at a lover's side.

How, though, is someone who's basically a god supposed to find anyone in this multiverse with experiences they can remotely relate to?

Well... ultimately, Astra finds that it's far, far easier to build up a close relationship with varying versions of himself than anyone else. He's... kinda trash at it, though. This guy has so much bottled up Gunk in his head and is so starved for any form of affection that he has a habit of throwing WAY too much of himself into the relationships he engages in, and expecting that same level of commitment in return. There's one relationship with an alt Steven he's in for a while that ends up pretty unhealthily co-dependent before it fizzles out, and then another where he assumes the individual is committing to this partnership for the long run, but then no... actually Astra was always pouring more into this dynamic than he was receiving in return.

This second relationship, when it ends, is pretty devastating to him- since it was one that lasted for like, a LONG ass time. Unimaginably long. We're talking billions of years, here.

Uh-oh! And now he's even more distanced from other people. Folks can't even parse his actual chosen name at this point- except he isn't really consciously aware of this for a while?? It's yet another silent cry for help, yet another internal defense mechanism specially intended to keep others from truly getting to know him. Because every time he does... stars. No matter what he does, he keeps getting hurt. Almost everyone he knows and loves is torn from his life eventually... if not by death, then by some form of tragedy... and he's just so, so tired.

He wants literally ANYTHING to change in his life. He craves some new form of purpose. He craves the attention of someone who might love him as passionately as he loves them.

For a while, he almost believes he's found that- in yet another close relationship he forges with an alt version of himself- but while this other Steven does care for him immensely, it's only as a friend. Which kinda kills Astra, because he's like, lost in the sauce levels of In Love with this guy. There's a LOOOOOOT of story I have here with this, oh my god. If I am thinking about this AU I am usually thinking about this Old Man Yaoi. The great bulk of it is very NSFW themed though, so y'all getting the cliff notes.

The MOST important thing to know though, is that Astra both makes intense leaps and strides in once again allowing himself to be vulnerable with this man, and ALSO kinda intensely fucks their whole mutually agreed situationship up. It's messy. I am crying and wailing at these two old dumbasses. Jesus fucking christ.

But then, it's in the aftermath of this whole deal that an individual named Orion comes into the picture.

Orion quite literally falls into Astra's world by complete accident, but it's a very lucky accident- because she is a diamond hybrid version of Connie from another universe who- beyond a few differences- has a strikingly similar history to his. The big difference, though? She never found a means to create new Gems without Kindergartens, so she was the last of just a few thousand Gems who existed in her entire line. Part of a deeply endangered species.

This version of Connie arrives in some very deep mental turmoil, and so Astra does his best to give them a stable home and a place to heal. And while a past version of him might've been tempted to throw way too much of himself into the slow building rapport they have, he's blessedly Learned a thing or two from the past few major relationship experiences he's had... and chooses to like, ease up. Just offer himself as a friend first and foremost, should they care for one. Man learns restraint, lol.

And it's a damn GOOD thing that he does, because out of the genuine friendship they foster, Orion is the one who ultimately falls in love with him first. The relationship that's established here is one that's balanced, a true partnership where they simply make each other better people. It's through Orion's encouragement that Astra eventually reconnects and makes up with that last person he had an intense relationship with, even.

In time, Astra truly grows to thrive with Orion in his life. He becomes a far more open, vulnerable person, someone who feels safe to truly exist as who he is, to bare every complicated, battered facet of his past to those he trusts. While he may have taken the LONG road to get here, he too heals. And as a result...

One day, Astra simply stops glowing entirely. Shrinks down to more reasonable proportions. He stops hovering around on automatic, stops subconsciously scrubbing the memory of his face or name from people's minds. He stops denying his truest, deepest self- the reality that he was born an organic being, and raised as a human.

The burred reality that all he's ever truly wanted since the day his first lover died is to be a father.

To live a quiet, simple life with the people he loves.

For so long it was a mirage of a future he thought he'd never chase down, but for how much he made all the wrong choices the first time around, now he has a second chance.

And so in my brain, that's exactly what happens. Astra and Orion start a family together and continue to act as guardians over this universe for many years to come, until- after they are satisfied with the long life they've lived together, and their children have moved on to start forging their own paths- they eventually pass Beyond at their own will in each other's arms, ending their impossibly long godhood at peace.

I really don't know how to end this post lmafo, so I will simply say: if you somehow read all of this, holy shit you are so brave. Thank you for engaging with my insane ramblings. Have a nice day LOL FUIHSNUFSJG

This man haunts my brain so much I missed two off ramp turns on the highway the other day while thinking about him. Help me.

#su #su future #steven universe #su fanart #my art stuff #astra #nova rambles #i am going Insane please help #i will never write a full fic but i DO have like a ridiculous amount of outlined lore for him #yeah sure why NOT make a three am post. i am insane and this man is the object of my insanity. this is all you need to know.#i am so Tired help me

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leona-hawthorne · 2 days ago

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okay i have been waiting for this on the edge of my seat and i'm so fucking grateful that i finally got to sit down and read it (alone, of course, because my reactions were quite literally animalistic)

let me also add that the warnings themselves had me fucking moaning—alright now let's get into this!!

zoya, your writing truly has me in complete awe. "english is not my first language" okay and it appears that that literally does not matter at all because this??? this was a goddamn masterpiece.

(apologies in advance bc this is going to be an extremely long reblog)

He was insane. Truly insane. Almost unhinged. Mattheo Riddle was the definition of impulsive thoughts turned into reckless actions, actions that always led him to trouble. He was raw, magnetic, and dangerously unpredictable, the kind of person who attracted attention without even trying.

okay, but this right here??? the way you captured mattheo's essence so perfectly, i’m obsessed. like, he’s not just reckless—he’s raw and magnetic, and that’s such a powerful way to describe someone who’s constantly teetering on the edge of chaos. it’s like you reached into his chaotic little soul and pulled out the perfect words. it’s giving “force of nature,” and the way you wrote it feels so vivid and alive, like i can see him and feel the tension he carries everywhere he goes. your writing is so sharp and evocative, i can’t stop rereading this bit.

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

my babyyy, he craves trouble like it’s the only way he can feel noticed. it’s like he’s reduced his own worth to just being seen and perceived by others, even if it means chaos. love how you captured that desperation in such a short line.

every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

how do you set the tone so well?!? the imagery is wildly vivid—i can almost feel the heaviness of the space, like it’s got its own dark history!!

The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

oh this killed me—the tension between wanting something and being terrified of it. mattheo’s vulnerability here is chef's kiss, showing how much he's fighting against his feelings, even when he’s almost lost to them. such a perfect snapshot of their dynamic.

He never quite understood why his heart raced when he was in your presence, as if it might break through his ribs, his flesh, and fall directly into your palms, fully out of his power. At times he couldn't help but press his hand against his own chest, trying to stop it, trying to hold it back, but it only frustrated him further.

okay i am genuinely so in love with this whole part, i had to reread it like 3 times 😵‍💫 the internal conflict is so palpable—like, he’s torn between wanting to control something that’s clearly already beyond his grasp, but also secretly wishing to surrender to the one person who can break him. the image of him physically pressing down on his chest to stop it??? i am actually crying, zoya. ugh, and the fact that he doesn't care whether he'd be hurt or cared for—he just wants her, FUCK he is obsessed.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you.

AHDHSFG his possessive ass actually enjoying sharing something??? aw he likes her 😚🤗

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand.

the way he kept laughing like a fucking maniac throughout the entirety of this fic OMG i can almost hear it in my head, he's so fucking hot.

his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there

I'M BLUSHING, idk if he's doing that solely because of the ritual but either way, the fact that he wants to reassure himself that she didn't go anywhere is making my heart squeeze in my chest 🥹

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence.

BITCH??!?! YOU ASSHOLE, hold my hand i'm scared ☹️

He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one.

this is so true—HE'S FUCKING MEAN, but i genuinely have never seen a more angelic man 😭🪽

Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

alr here we go (i'm horny now)

Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care.

well shit, now we're both hard, mattheo!! 🤜💥🤛 (i am drooling at the thought of this rn)

Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin.

no, you actually don't understand—this is so intimate, i can just imagine the silence and the only sound being their heavy ass breathing, its so 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫 also i think i would lose my mind if my nips were like JUST BARELY brushing against him, what a tease

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did.

idk if you've seen stranger things but this is making me think of when nancy and jonathan did the same exact thing and cut their palms. that scene and the matching scars and just them in general is so dear to me, so this is making me feel so many things rn

Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood.

okay mr vampire!! (this is so fucking hot i am literally struggling to function rn and i am lucky i didn't read this during ovulation 🙂‍↕️)

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?”

MY JAW DROPPED PLEASE OH MY GOD, HIM SPREADING THE COLD BLOOD ON HER STOMACH?? I CAN IMAGINE MYSELF JERKING AWAY OMF YES DADDY I LOVE IT

Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound...

i'm being so serious, this part will live on in my brain forever. him MIMICKING/MOCKING HER MOAN??? HE'S SO MEAN AND COCKY HOLY FUCK THAT WAS SO HOT

he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth.

spreading her own blood all over her body just so he can lick it off, oml can you spread my legs open next, mattheo? 😇 (jk, they're already spread)

The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

first, AJDGHFDJHDRFGJHAFGHJSRGFJHSRF him pressing her tits together just to SHOVE HIS FACE IN BETWEEN oh he's so down bad 🤭 also the "your tits..." BOY. he was so cocky and degrading before—now he's all pathetic and obsessing over her tits? ah, just what I love to see 😮‍💨

“Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

yes sir please spit in my mouth (he's so nasty and disgusting and i fucking love him for it)

YES PLEASE LET ME SUFFOCATE YOU BETWEEN MY LEGS MATTY PLS 🙏 "let him one day die like this" he is so obsessed god i love this so much

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

THE WAY HE CAN'T TEAR HIS FACE AWAY EVEN JUST FOR A MOMENT TO SPEAK AJDGSGDFHSDFG i would actually be dying at all the praise

clearly, i got a little carried away with this reblog (this is literally the longest reblog i’ve ever made 🧍🏻‍♀️), but what can i say? this was 6.3k words of art and i had to include all my favorite parts 🤷‍♀️🙂‍↕️

love you zoya!!!! 🫂🤍

𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐒𝐎𝐍

mattheo riddle x fem reader

SUMMARY. in which mattheo seeks power and needs your help to perform a blood ritual. WORDS. +6.3K. english is not my first language.

WARNINGS. smut, mdni, porn w//plot, mean mattheo, aged up characters, friends to fuck buddies, blood play, blood kink, cuts, spitting, nipple sucking, oral sex f!receiving, pussy drunk mattheo, handjob, dirty talk, biting, marking.

navigation -> masterlist

He didn’t just attract trouble; he craved it, needed it like it was the only thing keeping him seen.

Mattheo was like a storm no one could outrun, an enigma without resolution, and that was exactly what made him so intoxicating. There was something in his presence that pulled people toward him, whether in admiration or fear, and no one could quite decide if it was for better or worse. He wasn’t just hard to ignore; he was impossible to overlook. He demanded attention simply by existing, and it was maddening, the way he could dominate a room with nothing more than a simple glance.

It could have been for a lot of reasons. Maybe it was the way he acted like he didn’t have a care in the world, the sharp, biting comments he always seemed to have ready, words that stuck like blood on stone.Or maybe it was the fights, the way he seemed to throw himself into them too often, always coming out with the same satisfied expression. After all, he was the only son of the Dark Lord, and that alone was enough to draw all kinds of attention.

Whatever was the reason, chaos seemed to follow him everywhere, like he thrived on it. Perhaps he didn’t care at all. No outsider really knew, and no one ever tried to figure him out. Nobody had the courage to do so.

Either way, there were always whispers about him, cruel rumors about his personality and massive ego, some saying he was just like his father, or maybe even a darker version of him, while others came from students eager to get close in obscene ways, hoping to spend a night with their bodies tangled in his.

Yet Mattheo didn’t show that he cared, always pretending to be focused on his own goals, moving through the chaos unshaken and unbothered, though deep down, the truth was different: he thrived on attention, bad or good, as if he needed it to keep himself whole.

But you had seen enough to know the truth. He was cruel, ruthless, and everything people whispered about him, perhaps even worse. And yet, here you were, trapped in his chaos, each moment with him drawing you deeper into the darkness.

You were trapped. Absolutely trapped.

Perhaps it was in the way he looked at you, his deep brown eyes burning with an intensity that stole your breath away, leaving you struggling to keep your heart from racing, as if he saw something inside of you that you weren’t capable of seeing. Or maybe it was the way his words stayed in your mind long after they were spoken, carving their way into your thoughts like a knife you didn’t want to pull out, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were already in too deep.

If you thought about it more, you didn’t know what had brought you here. The main factor to why you were so attracted to an ongoing fire.

Could be the adrenaline from his strange proposal, or the way you couldn’t stop thinking about him, his presence always glued to your mind. Could also be the need to be near him, the way your body moved toward his as if it had no will of its own, or perhaps it was the way he seemed to control your heart in a way you couldn’t even understand. It was twisted, even a little scary, but neither of you cared.

After all, you were friends.

You didn’t know when it stopped feeling like curiosity—just a lingering thought— but the doubt never really went away. Instead it became prominent, tight in your chest whenever he was around. There was something darker about him, something dangerous in the way he lived recklessly, only focused on his own desires, how he thrived on the attention he got, pulling you deeper without even trying.

And now, standing there, you couldn’t shake the feeling that whatever came next, there was no turning back. No escape.

The Room of Requirement was cloaked in dark shadows, the silence broken only by the faint hiss of flickering candles. Their soft, wavering light offered a fragile sense of comfort, though it did little to ease the tension hanging in the air. The atmosphere was thick and heavy, saturated with the acrid tang of burning incense and something darker, almost unspoken.

Torchlight flickered across the cold stone walls, making jagged patterns that twisted and stretched with each almost shiny flicker. That night, the requirement room felt weird, unlike the form other students seemed to used—every corner seemed like an unsettling, cavernous form that resembled a muggle abandoned cathedral. It felt sacred in a weird twisted way, as if it were built to bear the weight of sinful actions that were too heavy to confess elsewhere.

The faint metallic scent in the air lingered, sharp and heavy, mixed with something even more heavy, felt almost like a warning. On the stone floor, crude runes spiraled out in precise, jagged lines, their edges glowing faintly as though alive and energetic, pulsing in time with the biting silence as if they were watching, waiting to know what was about to take place.

In the center of it all stood Mattheo Riddle, the one person who seemed to take up every space in your mind, his dark robes draping loosely over his strong frame, giving him an effortless air of power, his features, defined and almost angelic, partially hidden by his messy curls that always fell into his pretty eyes.

The flickering torchlight danced off his hair with every movement, making it seem almost alive; there was something strange about how his appearance seemed almost angelic, yet you knew Mattheo’s true personality, making him all the more dangerous, like a trap just waiting for you to step in.

He could look still, even controlled, but there was nothing controlled about this. Nothing about him was controlled.

Mattheo looked at the dagger in his hands, his gaze drifting over the blade, but it wasn’t the dagger that had his attention. It was you. Your eyes were on him, and it felt like he was being torn apart with just that look. It wasn’t like the attention he was used to—no fear or admiration in it.

No, this was different. It was more like an assessment. The weight of your gaze was almost suffocating, as if you were digging into him, getting under his skin in a way that made him feel stupidly exposed and making him feel a strange sensation tighten in his chest, choking his throat in ways he couldn’t understand, and he hated it.

He hated how you made him feel like this—torn between wanting to get closer and wanting to run away from that. And even if it was good or bad; neither mattered. He didn’t want to know. The only thing he knew for sure was that you almost had him entirely.

And for him, that was awful enough.

Nevertheless, there were times when he nearly wished his heart would simply give way and land in your hands so you could do with it whatever you pleased, whether that meant crushing it entirely or holding it tenderly between your fingers. He wasn't certain which would provide him with greater comfort, but he was certain that if you gave him that satisfaction, he will never be the same again.

Mattheo sighed and shook his head rapidly, making a dramatic gesture as he attempted to avoid your concentrated, evaluating stare on him once more. He concentrated on the tiny silver dagger in his hand, trying not to hold it too firmly in his palm, but nothing could take away the sensation, and even if it didn't cause him any discomfort, the pressure that made it was obvious.

He let out another sigh, this time frustrated, rubbing his forehead, but couldn’t help releasing another, this time a relieved one, when he saw your attention shift to the two circles drawn around him, almost like some kind of illustration, and he couldn’t help but smirk knowingly as he noticed the change in your expression; at the confusion in your eyes and at your furrowed brows as you tried to make sense of the strange symbols, carefully etched inside the circles on the floor.

Mattheo looked away, quickly shifting his focus to the symbol at his feet. In comparison with the other symbols, this one was far more complex, with each line and curve being meticulous and precise. As he raised his chin in satisfaction with what he did, Mattheo couldn't help but widen his smirk into a full grin, an equal amount of pride and arrogance coming across his expression.

This ritual, this moment—it was his, only his. Yet, for some reason, he felt a twisted satisfaction knowing he was going to share it with you. Even though you were there not completely voluntarily, you still had a place in it, whether you liked it or not.

This time, it was Mattheo who looked at you with an intense, almost predatory gaze, his hand tightening once more around the blade in his palm as he kept his eyes on you. He was already preparing to take the first step toward the power he would gain from what you two were about to do. All he needed was your final confirmation and for you to step into the middle of the circle with him.

“Are you ready for this?” His voice broke the silence, low and almost a purr, making you look up at him. Ready? Fuck no. In fact, you were terrified. Every part of you screamed to run, to get as far away from this room and this stupid ritual as possible. But your body didn’t listen to your brain. Your heart didn’t either. Instead, you stayed still, frozen, your eyes locked with his own, already filled with amusement and something darker, like a challenge.

You knew this was stupid. Hell, it was almost suicidal. A ritual to give him more power, cutting your own hand, spilling your blood, mixing it with his just to make him stronger. It was madness. More than that, even.

But then again, a part of you wanted it. A part of you wanted to leave a piece of yourself with him, to bind yourself to him in some twisted way. And for some fucked-up reason, you craved that. You wanted to be marked by him, to have a part of you inside him forever. Mattheo had already carved his mark into your mind, into the darkest corners of your heart, and now you wanted to do the same.

Stupid curiosity.

“Well?” Mattheo asked again, his voice dripping with amusement, though you could hear the faint edge of annoyance creeping in. He tried to hold onto his usual confident, relaxed demeanor, but it was slipping. “What’s it gonna be?” The same damn question. You wouldn’t be stupid enough to make him ask a third time.

“I…” You paused, your voice cracking, and you couldn’t help but curse yourself under your breath as you felt his gaze digging into you, waiting for the answer he wanted. “I think I’m ready,” you finally said, taking a step forward, ignoring the part of you screaming to get the hell out of there. Yet your body moved faster than your mind, and before you knew it, you took an unconscious step closer to him, making his eyebrow quirk in amusement.

Mattheo raised an eyebrow, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “You think?” he repeated, his voice thick with mockery. He almost laughed; if it were not for the situation you two were in.

“Fuck—” you hissed under your breath, cursing yourself again, and Mattheo’s smirk stretched wider. “I’m ready.” You corrected yourself, the words tasting wrong. “I’m ready,” you said again, this time to convince yourself more than him.

Mattheo let out a low, almost manic laugh as his gaze remained fixed on the blade in his hand. The sound sent an unexpected shiver down your spine, and your cheeks flushed as his voice echoed in your ears. When he looked back at you, his eyes were softer than before, though the usual intensity remained, as if he was offering something that, despite not being comfort, somehow left you feeling relieved in a way.

He stretched his hand towards you, his voice calmer than before but still firm. “Let’s go. The sooner we start, the sooner this thing is going to end.” The sooner he would have control. Mattheo called you again, and you let out a soft sigh before taking that first step.

Each step you took was filled with hesitation, but your body didn’t seem to care. It moved toward the circle, fighting the doubt gnawing on your mind. When you finally stepped inside, you couldn’t hold back a small sigh as your hand found Mattheo’s. The touch sent a shiver down your spine, your cheeks flushing as you saw the same smirk on his lips, the reaction causing a tug on your heart. He didn’t need to say anything; you could feel how much he enjoyed this, how much he knew the effect he had on you.

Sometimes you wanted to punch him.

As soon as you took his hand, Mattheo’s confidence wavered slightly; his heart pounded just by your touch. However, he couldn’t hide the dark amusement in his eyes as he watched your flushed cheeks and how your body betrayed you. It was too easy.

“This,” he said, gesturing to the intricate runes carved into the floor with the tip of his dagger, his grip tightening around your hand, not to soothe you, but to remind himself you were still there. “It’s going to hurt like hell.” He said it with such ease, as if the pain and the blood were just a minor part. You swallowed hard, the confirmation of what you already knew settling deep in your stomach. “At least for you,” he added with an eyebrow raised, his voice laced with amusement.

His words weren’t reassuring at all—not that you expected them to be. He didn’t care about calming you or making this easier to bear. That wasn’t his style, and it never had been. Mattheo thrived in chaos, in mess, and he wanted you to feel every bit of it. He wanted to pull you into the madness, to push you until you struggled to keep yourself together.

“You’re not exactly helping me calm down, you know?” you said through gritted teeth, barely stopping yourself from telling him to go fuck himself.

Mattheo chuckled dryly, releasing your hand to stop you from gripping it, from finding any comfort in his presence. “Glad to know, sweetheart.” He said casually, like it didn’t matter at all. “But who said I want you to calm down?” he murmured, and you might have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the fact that you had known him for years.

You scoffed at his lack of sympathy. It wasn’t surprising, though; his attitude was one of the things that drew you to him, even if it wasn’t exactly healthy. You watched as he lit more candles, the flame dancing with every step he took, highlighting the sharp lines of his features. He was an insensitive prick, but dear god, he was a beautiful one.

After a few seconds, Mattheo stood up, still holding the dagger in his hand. He glanced at you, and for a brief moment, something in his gaze made his heartbeat almost thud down his ribs. He took a few steps toward you, and your eyes met. His dark eyes were intense, unreadable, and the weight of the air between you made your stomach twist. Finally, he spoke, his voice low and steady, with a hint of mischief in his tone. The corner of his mouth twitched, the excitement creeping slowly.

“Take off your shirt.”

You blinked, shocked, and for a few seconds, all your fear vanished. “Excuse me?!”

Mattheo observed you, almost as if he were stripping you bare. “Your shirt,” he repeated, his tone annoyingly dismissive. He spun the dagger in his palm with flawless precision, taking a step closer as if your hesitancy pleased him. “Take it off,” he said almost coolly, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world.

You crossed your arms, feeling your heart race as your face flushed with heat. “And why, exactly, do I need to do that?” You snapped, your voice sharp. You had fantasized a thousand times about Mattheo asking you to do this, but you never imagined it would actually happen, especially not now, in this situation.

“For the ritual,” he said simply, tilting his head and giving you a smirk that bordered on taunting, as though the answer should’ve been obvious. “I need access to your skin, sweetheart. The magic won’t work otherwise.” His words were smooth, but you couldn’t shake the feeling they held a hint of mockery.

You hesitated, studying him closely. There was something about his response that didn’t sit right, too casual in a way that felt almost taunting, like he wasn’t being completely honest. “You’re making that up,” you said flatly, letting your arms drop to your sides, your eyes narrowing as you searched on his face for a sign of truth.

His smirk widened, and he continued to twirl the dagger between his fingers, his eyes locked on you. The sight of your flushed cheeks only seemed to make him think with his other head. “Am I?” He took another step closer.

“Please, Mattheo, I know that’s bullshit!” you spat out, trying to ignore how his smug expression made your skin heat, though particularly of you couldn’t help but consider it.

Mattheo let out a low chuckle, stepping closer, the tension between you nearly unbearable. His voice dipped, rough and almost deliberate, as his dark eyes shamelessly trailed down your body before locking onto yours again.

“Alright,” he murmured, a smile laying wickedly on his lips. “Maybe it’s not entirely necessary. But it helps. A lot.”

The dagger moved lazily in his hand, the sharp edge skimming his palm without cutting his palm. His gaze never left you, steady and intense, like a predator watching its prey. “And we both know you want this to work out, don’t we, sweetheart?”

Your breath hitched in your throat at his words, a truth you hated to admit even to yourself. You wanted him to notice you—really notice you—the way his gaze seemed to strip you bare, peeling back layers you didn’t even realize you had. But the sharp flare of anger clawed its way up your chest, tangling with the strange pull he always seemed to have over you, leaving you somewhere between furious and helpless.

“Unbelievable,” you muttered, shaking your head, the disappointment cutting deeper than you wanted to admit. You weren’t sure if it was aimed at him or at yourself for falling into this moment—this trap. Probably both.

“And yet,” he said, taking another step toward you, “here you are.” He mocked you, making you bite your tongue to stop yourself from telling him to fuck off.

The space between you two was basically nonexistent now, and Mattheo fucking hated it. Hated that it was him moving closer, like he couldn’t help himself. Hated how his body had a mind of its own, reacting to you in ways that made him feel like an idiot. The thought of you, without your shirt, without anything, was driving him insane, his imagination running wild no matter how much he tried to shove it down.

Fuck. He could already feel the strain in his pants, his cock pressing uncomfortably against the fabric. It pissed him off—how easily you got under his skin, how fucking hard it was to keep his cool around you.

“Fine,” you bit out, your voice rougher than you felt, and Mattheo’s smile twisted with satisfaction, practically waiting for you to do it. You exhaled sharply, trying to ignore the way his eyes were glued to you. Your fingers lingered at the hem of your shirt, heart pounding in your chest as you struggled to find the guts to go through with it.

Mattheo’s smirk only deepened, his eyes never leaving you, and for a moment, it felt like he was inside your head, reading you like a damn book. His gaze dropped low, just enough to make your skin prickle with awareness. You seemed so fucking soft. “Need help?” he asked, voice dripping with mockery.

“Shut up, Mattheo” you snapped, yanking the fabric over your head in one swift motion, a shiver running through your whole body. Shit, you’re not wearing a bra.

The second the shirt left your body, the air felt heavier, but you felt the coldness against your exposed skin and nipples. Mattheo’s expression shifted, his smirk slipping for a moment as his eyes scanned over you, taking in more than you were prepared to show. You cursed yourself for not wearing a bra under the thin fabric, your chest bare under the dim torchlight and his searing gaze. Mattheo swore the zipper on his pants was going to break any second.

You couldn't help but feel trapped by his piercing stare as his eyes remained on you, shamelessly tracing your hard nipples. He seemed oblivious; nonetheless, his eyes burned with need as his mind wandered, thinking about the taste of his tongue on your nipples, sucking and biting until all you could think about was the feel of his wet tongue. He held the dagger tightly, only reacting when the blade cut into his flesh.

“Well,” he began, attempting to put the thoughts flowing through his head to the back of his mind, his voice rougher than before, “guess you were more ready than we thought.” He mocked you again, but it seemed like he was also mocking himself.

You could feel your cheeks burning, a mix of anger and something else boiling inside you. You crossed your arms over your chest, trying to block him out, but the moment you saw the way Mattheo’s eyes were fixed on you filled with desire, your hands fell to your sides, betraying your own brain. You wanted this. You wanted him to see you, to really see you.

But as you realized you were staring at him in the same way, you quickly shook your head, trying to push down the desire and need, force some control back into your own voice. “Just get on with it,” you ‘snapped’, trying to hide how much it stung, how much you craved that attention.

Mattheo’s smirk returned, but this time it was sharper, full with devilment. He took another step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours, and gestured toward the circle with a lazy flick of his hand. “As you wish.”

His expression didn’t shift, his confidence simmering just below the surface as he stepped even closer to you, trying not to look at your bare chest. His eyes flickered to the symbols on the ground, their faint glow reflecting in the depths of his gaze. Without a word he reached up and tugged his shirt over his head, casting it aside without care. He didn’t look at you but still waited for your reaction. You had already drawn one from him—only fair if he returned the favor, right?

You, on the other hand, swallowed hard, your gaze shamelessly tracing the lines of his abdomen and bare, muscular chest. The candles and torchlight cast sharp shadows across the scars etched into his skin, and you held your breath without meaning to. When he glanced forward slightly, his eyes still on the ground as he did so, he had to stifle a chuckle at the sight of your clenched fists, trying to control yourself.

This was going to be fun, at least.

For a brief moment, neither of you spoke or moved. The silence stretched thin, both of you consumed by the same thoughts, the same dirty images racing through your minds. Your chests rose and fell heavily, both of you struggling to regain a normal breath. It was fucking madness.

Mattheo quickly composed himself, standing at the point of the small symbol on the ground, making sure you mirrored his position on the opposite side. Your bare chests were almost touching, the air thick with tension, your hard nipples brushing just slightly against his skin. He gave a low sigh, words slipping from his lips in a language you couldn’t understand, his voice deep and commanding.

As soon as the words left his mouth, the symbols on the floor pulsed to life, glowing with an eerie light, while the candle flames flickered wildly, as though responding to his words.

He looked at the dagger in his hand, a proud glint in his eyes before letting his gaze drift up to your face. His eyes lingered on your features, the softness of your eyes, the way your lips parted just enough to drive him insane. He almost couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to touch you, but he stayed still, his jaw tight. “Are you ready?” he asked, his lips moving without sound. “I am,” you mouthed back, the hesitation in your eyes impossible to miss. But he ignored it, choosing to focus on the way you stood there—no turning back now, and honestly? He didn’t want you to cover up.

Mattheo gripped the dagger with steady hands, his brown eyes flickering briefly to the runes as if making sure everything was aligned. Without a second thought, he pressed the sharp blade to his palm, slicing through the skin with quick, practiced precision. The blood surged from the cut, dripping thick and dark onto the glowing runes below. They reacted violently, flaring brighter, more alive, as if the blood was feeding the symbols, feeding him.

You held your breath, knowing you were next. But you couldn’t stop yourself from glancing at the ground, watching his blood drip onto the floor beneath both of your feet.

After a few seconds, he lifted his chin, pride in his eyes, his curls moving like the magic around the circles. He grabbed your hand without a word, pressing the dagger into your palm, his gaze never leaving yours. He was waiting, daring you to cut yourself just like he had.

You felt his blood drip onto your wrist, the warmth of it sending a jolt through your veins. As the dagger pressed into your palm, a breath caught in your throat. The weight of the blade was more than you expected, and for a moment, your eyes lingered on the crimson stains left by Mattheo’s cut, almost hypnotic, tempting you.

Your heart quickened, your pulse echoing in your ears. You hesitated—for a moment. His eyes found you once again, a look that urged you to continue. The hesitation lingering in your heart suddenly dispersed; you wanted nothing but to mark him as yours.

With a deep breath, you pressed the blade to your palm, hissing softly as the edge cut into your skin, making you feel even more bare and open than you already did. The pain was sharp, fleeting, quickly replaced by the blood spilling down your skin, as the runes reacted violently to your action, their glow flaring in response.

It was instantaneous. The moment your blood touched the floor, the room seemed to exhale, the light flaring brighter and the air humming with a charged, almost electric energy as the ritual began. But the reaction was brief, for Mattheo’s focus shifted.

Mattheo’s gaze was fixed on the cut on your hand, his eyes wide and unblinking, as if he was mesmerized by the crimson blood streaks trailing down your wrist, mingling with his the drops of his blood already on your skin. His jaw clenched, and you swore you saw him swallow hard as he continued to look, his chest rising and falling with a depth of intensity you’d never seen in him before.

“Mattheo?” You called softly, your voice barely above a whisper, your heartbeat quickening against your bare chest. Yet, it was enough to break his attention.

His eyes naturally met yours once again, vulnerability flickering in his gaze, though the rest of his expression remained unreadable, like a contrast to the hunger simmering beneath. But Mattheo didn't step back. Instead, his calloused fingers brushed against the blood on your wrist, smearing it slightly. The contact sent a jolt through you, and for a moment, neither of you remembered how to breathe.

“Mattheo…” you called out again, but this time it was almost a plea for him not to stop. He obeyed your unspoken request, his fingers tracing your skin as if exploring new territory, so gently that it almost made you forget the lingering sting in your hand.

Mattheo’s hands moved deliberately, spreading the blood from the deep cut on your hand. He seemed oblivious to the matching wound on his own skin as he dragged the crimson trail up to your neck, smearing it across your skin. Without warning, his lips pressed against the spot, his tongue tracing the blood. He let out a low groan at the taste, and you couldn’t suppress your own when you felt the warmth of his tongue against you.

“It’s so sweet,” he murmured, his teeth grazing the skin of your neck, the crimson of your blood staining them as he pulled you closer, pressing you against him in a way that felt almost inhuman. “So fucking sweet.” His teeth continued to drag along your skin, while his hand slid down your arm, seeking more of your blood. His fingers tightened around your palm, squeezing to draw out more of the liquid, making you groan in a mix of pain and pleasure as the burn surged through you.

“Shhh, it’s okay, sweetheart,” Mattheo whispered, biting your neck, his teeth sinking into your skin painfully. He didn’t care about the grunt of pain that escaped your lips, not when more blood joined the one already staining your throat. Right after his first bite, you moaned, your thighs rubbing together in an attempt to ease the wetness in your cunt.

Mattheo chuckled in satisfaction, bringing his bloodied hand to your stomach, the crimson spreading across your exposed skin like a mark. “You like it, don’t you?” he murmured against your throat, pressing his lips to the marks he had left with his teeth. But when he noticed you hadn’t answered, he bit your neck harder than before and squeezed your stomach, causing more blood to spread across the area.

You swallowed hard, locking eyes with him as you tried to form a sentence, but the only words that escaped your lips were a barely audible, “Yes, fucking yes,” which only made him laugh harder. He tightened his grip on your skin, sending a sharp sting through your own body.

“Of course you do… such a fucking slut,” Mattheo chuckled again against your throat, his teeth sinking into the spot once more, making you moan. He mimicked the sound, feeling his pants tighten around his cock as he tasted your blood again on his teeth. His tongue throbbed with desire, savoring the metallic taste. Holy shit, he could cum just from the taste of your blood. “But you taste so damn good.”

He seemed to have completely forgotten the ritual, and you, too, had let it slip away. You didn’t want to remember, not when his blood stained your skin, not when your own blood marked him, and not when his mark lingered on you.

Mattheo pulled back slightly, looking at your state and the way your plush lips were parted as you stared at him, your eyes filled with the same desire he showed.

Without warning, Mattheo grabbed your cut hand with the one resting on your stomach, his blood mingling with yours as he guided your hand to your neck, then down to your breasts, trailing the blood like a map. Before you could react to the sting of your hard nipple pressing against the cut, Mattheo moved faster, pulling your nipple—now smeared with your own blood—into his mouth.

You let out a loud moan as you felt his tongue teasing the tips of your bloodied breasts, the taste of your blood on his tongue making him swirl around your breast more eagerly. The sensation only made him harder beneath his robes, each moan of his growing louder as he savored the taste of you.

You were lost in the pleasure of his mouth, concentrated with the way his tongue lapped like a hungry animal. The way his hands pushed your now bloody breasts together enough for his head to dive between them as he continued to whisper praises, words of hunger. You didn’t hear nothing but the sounds of his mouth nor saw how he desperately reached for release, your body causing him to react out of character.

“Fuck...” he murmured, his hand releasing the softness of your skin as he reached down towards his pants. Fast, uncoordinated, he released his cock from the restraints, his bloody hands wrapping around his cock that dripped with precum. His movements grew faster, driven by the growing intensity of the taste of blood on his tongue.

You looked down, catching a glimpse through the small crease of his neck as he dragged his palm over his hard cock while sucking on your nipples. You couldn’t help but moan louder, your bloody hand gripping his shoulders as you tried to ignore how your body was responding—the wetness between your legs that you knew he could feel.

“Your tits…”Mattheo moaned even louder, dragging a moan from your lips in response. Fuck, he was so close.

“Fuck, your blood tastes so fucking good.” He moaned louder, and as he sucked harder on your nipples, his mouth closing around the bud tighter. Your chest was now covered in his bites, the marks of Mattheo Riddle, almost like a sign of ownership. Your body quivered against his hold, rubbing pathetically against him as you felt the tingle flutter in your stomach. You were close, lost in the daze, you had no idea whether it was from pleasure or the lost of blood—or both. You were desperately clinging to his shoulders, his name falling from your lips like a spell.

The hold on his length tightened in his hand, and he came instantly. Another hoarse moan escaped his throat, and he pulled away from your chest for a moment, gasping for air. You gripped onto his shoulders once more, your eyes rolling to the back of your head. So sudden, so quick you fell against his hold as your body convulsed with pleasure.

Mattheo leaned against you, allowing himself a moment to relax. But when he noticed the blood still running down your throat from where he had placed your hand, he couldn’t help but let out a growl. He yanked your hair back harshly, making you gasp and exposing your throat, your scream barely escaping as he did so.

“Mattheo…!” You tried to speak, but he didn’t care; he never did. He only pushed you further against him, your nipples pressed against his bare chest as he licked your throat, letting out another groan as he tasted the metallic flavor again. His tongue traced the line of your throat, dragging the blood up to your chin, before he licked it off obscenely, making you sigh at the sensation.

Mattheo’s hand in your hair tightened, and in one swift motion, he turned you onto your back, pulling your hair even harder as your back arched against him. “Open your mouth,” he commanded, an order you immediately understood. You obeyed without hesitation, and before you could react, he spat into your mouth and thrust his tongue inside, kissing you deeply.

The kiss was rough and erotic, the fire burning from the inside making it impossible to avoid it. You could taste your own blood on his tongue, and it only made your cunt wetter, the intensity overwhelming. It was too much—more than you’d ever imagined.

You had pictured moments like this, where you and Mattheo would kiss, tasting each other’s tongues, but this was different. It wasn’t the fantasy you had dreamed of; it was raw, wild, and rougher than anything you could have ever anticipated. His teeth clashed with yours, and your tongue tangled with his, as he unleashed his most primal side. He was giving you a taste of the part of you he had consumed, and you were trapped, just as you always would be.

You didn’t care about the pain in your scalp, only the hand that held you.

Mattheo’s hands were rough, touching everything he could. His mouth marking you over and over as he swallowed every small noise you released. He was warm, too warm, a sting feeling in your mouth as he sucked and bit into your lips, the softness of your skin tethering as his mouth was once again filled with the sweetness of your blood.

He was about to lose his mind.

Mattheo sighed against your now split lip, “Stop me… Tell me to stop, and I will.” He wouldn’t; you both knew it.

You held him against you tighter; you were already too deep into him—all you wanted was to devour him, mark him enough to show everyone he belonged to you, only you. You wanted to inflict a pain he would never forget, a pain similar to the pain he caused you, so you did. Your hands wrapped around his neck, your mouth tracing his lips, then his cheeks, then suddenly the warmth of his neck. Mattheo gripped you hard; he made no sudden movement, anxiously awaiting your motive. You bit into his neck, sucking the flushed skin as your teeth marked him with the same strength he did to you.

Another soft flow came into your mouth, you gasped, the metallic taste odd in your mouth but enough to send your heart thundering.

Mattheo whimpered, his dominant facade slipping as he sickly enjoyed the way you took control. You were so sweet, so delicate—you were completely the opposite. The idea he corrupted you twisted a sick, powerful thought in his brain. You were his.

Your tongue reached towards his mouth again, finding yourself eye to eye with the man you wanted nothing more than to control. “Don’t ever stop; I need you.”

Mattheo grinned, his lips bloody, his brown eyes becoming dark as he suddenly pushed you towards the runes that glowed against your body. The symbols glowed, vibrating with the blood that dripped onto it. As he stood over you, he wished to capture the moment forever. You looked so fucking pretty.

He leaned over, his knees staining with the blood smeared against the cold tiles. His fingers moved quickly, desperately. He watched as your body spoke to him, reacting to every touch. Your breasts covered in his marks, his blood and yours on them that caused his cock to twitch violently.

He wanted more than the taste of your breasts; he wanted to taste the juices that gathered in the silk of your panties. He wanted to feel the way your cunt twitched and throbbed against his mouth, and damn, did he want nothing more than to have you fuck yourself on his tongue. The sweetest angel from Hogwarts all displayed for him, to hell with the ritual; now he just wanted to swallow you whole.

Without warning, he hoisted your legs onto his shoulders with an almost violent urgency, a deep moan escaping his lips as he leaned closer to your wet pussy. The intoxicating scent filled his senses, making his bloodied hand tighten around your thigh, gripping it as if commanding you to choke him; a command you had no intention of disobeying.

Mattheo looked at your face, the dried blood around your parted lips, your cheeks flushed from everything he was doing to you, and your dilated pupils watching him anxiously. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, and you instantly bit your lip. Fuck, he was about to get hard again.

“Please, I need you, Mattheo,” you begged, rubbing your hips desperately, trying to get closer to his flushed face. You needed his mouth, and he was more than willing to be a good friend and give you exactly what you wanted.

“No need to beg like a slut, sweetheart,” he said, moving closer to your pulsing cunt, the light from the dunes making your wetness glisten even more. You held your breath as his warm breath ghosted over your slick folds. “I’m eager to give you what you want,” he murmured, leaning even closer, his nose brushing against your arousal as he took in your scent. Just as you were about to beg him to do something, his tongue was quicker—teasing, tasting, and finally giving in to the need to lick you.

Mattheo followed his instincts and hunger, his palms gripping your thighs even tighter, leaving bloodstained marks on your skin just as he had on the rest of your body. The sting of his own cut burned with the pressure, but he didn’t stop, sliding his hands to your hips as his tongue moved swiftly against your folds, savoring and memorizing every inch of you.

You could feel Mattheo’s cheeks pressed against your thighs as he buried himself in your pussy, suffocating himself in your scent and taste. He mentally begged some higher power to let him one day die like this—only after his hunger was completely satisfied. Your back arched, heat swirling in your stomach as Mattheo licked your pussy with reckless desperation.

He was ravenous, savoring every part of you, and when your nails dug into his scalp, he let out another growl, pushing himself even deeper between your legs, making you moan even louder.

“Fucking yes, sweetheart,” he murmured against your pussy, sucking harder as your cries of pleasure filled the room. “Keep moaning like a slut, keep saying my name.” He bit down on your flesh, making you moan even louder, your legs trembling around him. He chuckled darkly, the vibrations of his laughter sending shocks through your body and making you cry out even more.

Fuck the ritual, fuck the power—the only power he craved was the power he held over you.

“Mattheo,” you moaned even louder, rocking your hips against his face as your fingers tangled in his hair, pushing him closer. “Right there, oh my—!” you cried out, feeling him lose himself between your legs, consumed by his thoughts and the blood still staining his lips.

Mattheo’s fast, steady movements continued, his almost feral tongue lapping at your cunt as his hands roamed your body. He could feel his cock harden at the sound of your sweet moans. Fuck, the taste of your blood mingled with your arousal was divine—almost too much for him to bear.

He continued kissing your clit, desperate to savor your full taste, his tongue messily exploring your folds, drinking in every drop he could. All you felt in the moment was him. The sounds muffled as if underwater. Your fingers dug into his scalp, causing him to flick his tongue against your bud faster, his fingers circling it, his grin plastered with pride as he heard you cry loudly.

“Such a pretty one you are,” he muttered, his words slurring into the juices of your cunt.

You only released a jumble of words, your bare back arching as you squirmed beneath him. You were on the edge, and you could feel it—both of you could. The anticipation was electric, and you were both eager for the release. All he wanted was to make you cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he murmured against your folds, the scent of your cunt making him dizzy. “Come for me.” No sooner had the words left his mouth than you let out a final scream, the orgasm hitting you hard as your body arched, feeling your cum dripping from your pussy.

Mattheo groaned against your cunt once more, lapping at your release as he lost himself in your flavor. Quickly, he grabbed your cut hand, spreading its blood over your pussy to mix with the cum. When he felt it was enough, he ran his tongue over your folds, savoring the metallic taste of blood combined with the sweet remnants of your orgasm, only stopping when not a drop remained, and you pushed him away.

The runes still flickered on the ground, glowing brighter with the smell of your release in the air. Blood stained both your bodies, marking each other, marking the new connection between you that neither of you wanted to escape. Mattheo stood there, watching you, his brown eyes observing, shining with pride watching your state. His eyes traced the blood on your skin, lingering on the cut on your hand, before meeting your eyes again.

“We didn’t finish the ritual,” you managed to say, your voice soft, timid once again compared to the wildness you held as you let Mattheo control you, your body still shaking from one of the best orgasms you ever experienced.

Mattheo’s smirk grew, just a little as he continued to look at the mess he had done. “It’s fine, sweetheart. We can always try again.”

He was right; after all, friends helped each other.

— please be nice, it’s 4 am it probably has some mistakes!

likes and reblogs are appreciated 🫶🏻

also a big thank you for my favorite beta readers @earth4angels & @astrxq , without them i couldn’t write all this!! i love you both off you forever

venting: sometimes, i hate english because my hard lines in portuguese don’t make sense and seem so repetitive :(

#mattheo riddle #mattheo riddle x reader #slytherin boys #mattheo riddle smut #smut #harry potter #my recs 💫

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marscardigan · 1 day ago

Text

to the moon and back

remus lupin x reader

summary: your son is just like his father. remus hates that.

warnings: angst, mentions of self-hatred and anxiety, panic attack, cursing, not proofread!!

When you gave birth to Teddy, the marauders delight, you noticed he looked just like his father. The same lopsided smile, the little frown, how he looked at you with pure adoration and joy... everything reminded you of Remus. You adored that. It was like you just made him a twin. And it wasn't only you who noticed it, oh no, everyone did.

From Sirius' jokes to Lily's compliments, everyone knew he looked just like Remus. It was only the named one who seemed to dislike it. So when everyone left the hospital the night teddy came, you confronted him about it. "What is it?"

Remus looked up at you, looking confused. "Come on, don't lie to me" He laughed, failing at making you calmer. "I just don't know what you're talking about, dove"

"You've been weird and quiet all day"

"I am weird and quiet always" you scoffed, frowning as if you were just insulted. "Answer me, please. I am worried over here"

He moved his gaze to the window, avoiding your eyes. "You aren't going to like it"

"Don't care, just want to know why you look sad and why you haven't looked at your son in all evening" Remus grimaced at your voice. "So you noticed" Still, his eyes didn't meet yours. "Of course I noticed" You answered, offended.

"I just... don't like... that everyone says he looks just like me" He tried explaining, but you didn't get it, you couldn't bear to get it, after how proud you were your child looked just like his father. "I just wished he looked like you, that's all"

You pouted, looking at Teddy's sleepy face. Remus kept spiraling on his own thoughts. "I don't know why I feel this way, i should be proud of it" The postpartum hormones started to hit you harder, and some tears escaped your eyes. "If it helps, I couldn't be prouder that my kid looks exactly like you"

"Oh baby, please don't cry" Remus got up from his seat, and with his warm sweater dried every single tear left on your cheeks. "Let's just hope he gets your personality"

"We better hope he doesn't get your sense of humor, because we're screwed then" You laughed, and Remus joined too. He then started to believe in the possibility of loving his own son, even if he looked just like him, and made him sick inside.

When things started to get better, and your kid was almost two years old, you received a letter from the Potter's. Teddy was staying with them for the weekend, so you two could get some time alone. But all of your plans got screwed when Remus got a letter from James. He came to you, hand shaking while grabbing the piece of paper, tears threatening to escape from his beatific chocolate eyes. You got up from the bed and swiftly went to his side, grabbing softly his cheeks, which were burning. Before he could explain himself, he started crying, panic running through his veins. You asked what was wrong multiple times, but the only thing that left Remus' lips were "I told you", repeating it until he couldn't breathe. You tried to do everything you could to stop him from the anxiety, but every time something like this happened, you never knew what to do, so you hugged him and make his head hide in your chest, tears falling from your eyes as horrid shouts left Remus' mouth.

Once he got calmer, he just gave you the letter, too tired to even open his eyes. You didn-t have to read it to know what it said. So before he could do anything, you were going to the Potter-s and taking Teddy back home.

You left your son's room after putting him to sleep, and tiredly, you searched for your husband, only to find him smoking outside the porch. Remus didn't turn around, only lightened another cigarette. "I-m going to bed" You said, hoping to get some reaction from him. After a minute without any sign of him hearing you, you sighed, going to your shared dorm. Before you could close the door, you heard him mumble something under his breath. After asking to repeat it, he finally turned around, cigarette between his lips. "I said how bad is it."

You looked at his eyes, ignored the big eye bags those carried for almost two days now. "It could-ve been wor-"

"No. Tell me how bad is it" He cut you off, voice monotone.

You started to lose patience. "Well, if you're so interested about it, why don't you just try to look at your son's face? Then you could see how fucked up it actually is". You spitted at him, angry about his behavior. "But I told you, the scar on his cheek will fade eventually"

"That's what the doctor told me with mine" He almost laughed. You crossed your arms. "Thank god we have a better doctor then." Remus' tries to look guilty were hidden behind a weird smile, "So this is funny to you now? The safety of our child?"

"Of course it's not fucking funny, for god’s sake!" He almost shouted, throwing the cigar out. "I tried to warn you, ya know. About it before we had... him. But as always, you didn't listen"

"I did listen, you dumbass" You answered back, your words sounded almost venomous. "But as I told you back then, I couldn't give a shit, not before and not now, about it."

"You do seem mad about it" He shrugged.

"I am mad about it because our son needs his father, and his fucking father can't even look him in the eye" You pointed out at him, getting closer. "He needs you, and you seem to be gone." Your voice cracked, and Remus gaze softened just a little bit. He called out your name, but you ignored him. "I swear that every day that passes I have more clear that you are going to leave us, leave him, and I, I can't stand it."

"No, listen, it's not-"

"You listen to me" His eyes looked worried at your face, almost noticing now how pale and unhealthy you look, or have been looking for the past week. "I am scared every time I wake up and not finding you in bed, because you're gone" Your throat suddenly feels dry, as if your thoughts somehow would become reality once spilled. "Teddy needs you, I need you..."

Remus grabbed your hips, caressing your skin with his thumbs. "I know, I... I have been on my mind too long" He looked down, almost ashamed. "I was so scared of passing my... condition to him that once it happened I didn't know what to do after" He finally whispered. "I had no one when it happened to me, and I would've loved to have someone" "Let's give Teddy that support he needs, especially from you." You took advantage of the closeness of your bodies to rest your head in the crook of his neck. "He really misses you"

"I miss him too..." He sighed. "God I'm such an awful father" You shushed him, not daring to open your eyes. "Don’t say that. You are wonderful, you just need someone to remind you that"

Without being aware of his smile, Remus looked down at you, hiding the biggest smirk that now rested on his lips. "I love you, dovie. Love you to the moon and back"

"And just so you know" You looked up at him, copying his smile. "I couldn't be prouder that he is just like you"

And Remus started to believe it. He started to believe the blessing he had with Teddy, but mostly he started to believe how lucky he was to found you, and how his son would found just another angel like you in a future.

#remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #remus lupin fluff #remus lupin angst #remus lupin fanfiction #remus x reader #remus x you #remus lupin x you #remus lupin fanfic

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eurydicees · 1 day ago

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oh dont apologise i loved your essay 😭 and i 100% agree with everything. Theres such a innate theme of choices and consequences in wicked the musical and its so fascinating to me how choices made by all the characters have such profound consequences at the end. And fiyero’s choices are no different in the way they alter the trajectory of multiple characters.

He is really the only one i can think of who sacrifices everything for elphaba and does it all willingly. How do you like elphaba and then dislike the one character who was ready to give up his whole life and everything that came with it for her 😭

Twitter is very binary in that regard honestly, and its such a shame that they miss out on some pretty interesting character analysis about their favourite characters bc they decide to be so rigid and weird about other characters who had an impact on their faves. Couldnt be me lol, making multiple threads about a character you hate. I also think something else is at play here but dont wanna say it publicly lol but given your other responses i think you’d probably agree.

And yes totally agree about dividing the film in two parts - i can only hope the film watchers stick around for part 2 and see fiyero’s whole arc

thanks for the ask! also i wrote another fiyero ted talk. if i were like charles dickens or whoever and i was getting paid by the word to write about fiyero, i could be so goddamn rich btw.

anyways, choices and consequences!!!!! like that's the whole thing!!!!!!! and the way our choices affect and change other people!!!! fiyero isn't an exception to any of that!!!!

you're so right that fiyero is truly the one who makes the ultimate sacrifices for elphaba. like glinda loves elphaba, she absolutely does. but she isn't able to take on the work and life that elphaba chooses in defying gravity.

when it comes to the things that are most important to her, glinda prioritizes comfort and reputation over, like, morality and principle. and the thing about glinda is that she actively makes this choice. she chooses not to go with elphaba. she wants elphaba to succeed, but she's not brave enough to join her. in order for glinda to find the bravery to take up the work elphaba starts, she has to lose everything that actually matters. and she has to be complicit in her own losing of those things.

fiyero loves elphaba to the point of sacrificing all of those things that glinda can't resist. the day with the lion cub, and elphaba's general influence on him, changes fiyero profoundly in a similar way that she affects glinda, but fiyero finds the bravery to act on all of that. the difference is that he doesn't get the choice to go with her until mid-act 2 after wonderful.

in thank goodness, there's that one exchange between fiyero and glinda where they say smth like "you just can't resist all of this" "well who could?" "you know who could, and who has." and he's talking about elphaba, he's talking about how she had all the love she ever wanted at the tip of her fingers when she met the wizard, and she chose to let it go because she saw the ugly parts of the wizard's world. and this exchange is so clearly boiling it down to "elphaba resisted the temptation of being universally/publically loved and glinda did not." which tbh is something so in character for a person who has never had that, and a person who has always had that and thus doesn't want to leave it behind.

ok i was going somewhere with this but i don't remember where. just. fiyero isn't a perfect character. and for SURE the choice to erase gelphie's romantic subtext from the book when adapting it for broadway was an act of homophobia. but if we're just looking at musical canon, fiyero is brave enough to give up everything first to save elphaba, then to go with her, and then to protect her. and so-called elphaba stans don't think that's good enough. which is CRAZY to me.

also like. he's literally not the comphet love interest. sorry you didn't mention that but i keep seeing people throw those words around and like that's not what's happening here guys. elphaba loves him. she sings a whole song about it. multiple, even.

comphet implies that she mistakenly thinks she loves him because society has molded her into believing that's how she should be (fyi if anyone's experiencing that, it's glinda but i digress). elphaba, who notably has never been able to comply to the mold society makes for women, because she's never been pretty white woman enough to be afforded a place in that society? you mean that elphaba?

guys elphaba just...loves him. that's all there is to it. she loves him when she realizes he's more than he thinks he is, more than the airs he puts off. she loves him when she feared he might have changed, she loves him when he proves he did change--for the better. she loves him when he sticks by her, when he chooses her. she loves him when he's a fucking SCARECROW. ("go ahead, touch, i don't mind" "you're still beautiful" lives in my head rent fucking free).

when she has her breakthrough "okay. fuck this world that has never been good to me, if you want me to be wicked, i'll be wicked" moment, it's because she loses fiyero. she gets betrayed by nessa, and she fails dillamond, and she loses fiyero--and it's then that she loses sight of what good she had begun fighting for. it's a love for fiyero that drives most of no good deed (broadway songs of all time btw). like sorry but you dont sing someone's name like that if you don't love them. that's just musical theatre rules. trust me i was a theatre major.

anyways. sorry for that detour. back to the point. twitter treats everything as so black and white which is crazy because this is a revisionist musical about how evil isn't black and white. like?????? whatever. imagine being so bitter about a character you dislike that you want to change fundamental pieces of your favorite character so that he isn't relevant.

look. gelphie is great doomed yuri and i support that so hard. but dont try to tell me fiyero isn't deeply important to elphaba and to understanding elphaba's character. tbh the love triangle here isn't fiyero choosing between glinda and elphaba. it's more like elphaba choosing between glinda and fiyero and what either of them represent to her (glinda and working within the system, or fiyero, and abandoning it).

and hot take maybe but like ultimately--as someone who has never been conventionally accepted, as someone who has been hunted down to be murdered, as someone who has been the victim of a smear campaign and propaganda against her character/intentions, all of which was in part driven by glinda--she was always going to choose fiyero.

i respect gelphie shippers, i do. in another world, maybe one without the wizard, they could've been so happy together. i'm with y'all. but given canon, even if all others fall, i will be the last fiyero defender standing. god i hope movie-only fans watch part 2 and at least learn to RESPECT him. at the bare minimum. please. please. please.

#ask #oops sorry this took so long to get to #wicked #fiyero tigelaar #fiyeraba

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12raccoonsinadress · 3 days ago

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Harvey smut !! I don’t have a plot have a idea for it buuut if could give it some plot that leads into smut

Fem!reader

Stress Is Bad For Your Health: Harvey x Fem!Reader (Smut)

Hope everyone is doing well ~ 💚

Art Cred: @mimipippin

Word Count: 4,314

Third POV

You somehow always find yourself here after a long day. You sit at the bar, never drinking much, but trying to soak in some of the relaxed ambience of the saloon, hoping it'll somehow melt off some of the stress. You didn't assume being a farmer would be easy, but that wasn't it. It was being a farmer, helping the community, rebuilding the community center, mining, fighting off beasts. Really the list went on and on. It was overwhelming. You sipped your drink.

As you lowered your mug you could see the familiar green coat in your peripherals as you were joined at the bar.

"Hard day?"

You looked over now. Harvey always had this cute sort of charm to him in your opinion. Like he was just a little bit nervous to be around you. You sighed, running a hand down your face.

"Clint wanted some iron samples from the mine today. I don't think I've ever seen that many bats in my life."

His expression became one that was more concerned.

"Are you hurt at all?"

"No, I'm alright. Just stressed I guess."

You said, sipping your drink.

Harvey didn't seem convinced, watching you as you did.

"Stress can be bad for your health, Y/n. It impacts your immune system and makes it easier to contract illness. Not to mention the long term affects"

"I know, I know. Don't worry about me, Harvey. I'll be fine."

"Have you tried anything to relieve the stress?"

"I tried a few things. None of them really stuck."

Which was true. No matter what you tried, nothing really helped you relax, even this. Harvey hummed a bit, trying to think for a moment. He wanted to help you, the same way you've done so much to help the community.

"What have you tried?"

"I dunno, yoga, meditating, going to the bath house. And this."

"Well, I can say looking for relief at the bottom of a bottle won't do you much good."

You caught his quick glance towards Pam, who sat across the bar on her third mug of beer. You had no intentions of becoming a drunk, but you could see why that'd be a concern for him.

"I'm not. Trust me, Harvey, I have no interest in drinking myself stupid."

He seemed to relax a bit at that, though still thinking on your behalf.

"Surely there's something that'll help you relax."

You shrugged. You were used to it, not that that was a good thing. His face went a bit red as a thought dawned on him.

Both of you were painfully aware of the tension you had, but it was something neither of you could possibly find a way to address without making things weird. And now, he was considering breaching that barrier between the comfortable tension where no one needed to say anything, and the certainty that you had feelings for each other but all the unknown that comes with that.

"I apologize if this is an invasive question, but have you considered, uh, finding someone to assist you with your stress relief."

You looked at him for a moment, puzzled, like you might not have been following what he said. He continued quickly, more flustered now.

"I just mean, in the sense of, suggesting it as another option that may help you. Plenty of people seek intimacy as a form of stress relief or regulation."

You blushed now too. You hadn't considered getting the stressed fucked out of you, but you also weren't really the one night stand type of person. And with how small Pelican Town was, you didn't think sleeping around would be the best idea anyway. You looked at Harvey, who looked nervous enough to fall off his bar stool. You decided to try and lighten the mood. Or maybe just tease him. Either would be ideal.

"Is this an offer, doctor?"

He blushed harder if that was at all possible. He stammered out quickly.

"I- Well, I wouldn't- Not necessarily."

You raised a brow, an amused smile creeping onto your face. You sort of liked that idea, letting Harvey try and help you relieve your stress.

"Well, if I were to try this method of stress relief, who better to put myself into the hands of than the trusted town doctor?"

You smiled, leaning on the counter and tipping your head. He took a moment, analyzing all the thousands of ways this could be wrong versus how incredibly beautiful he thought you were and how he wouldn't want to give you off to someone else for this. He was looking away as he spoke, too nervous to look at you.

"If.. you believe it'd be in your best interest, I don't see any issue with.. ah, assisting you with your stress problems."

You put the money for your drink down on the bar and extended a hand to him.

"Shall we then?"

"Now?"

"I don't see why not. As long as you don't bite as much as the bats tried to."

You winked. Despite being mildly concerned about that comment, he did take your hand. You left together, making the walk out to the farm. The walk was quiet. He was thinking about all the ways this could go. The last thing he wanted was to disappoint you, especially when this was, or so he kept telling himself, for your health. He wondered if this would effect his chances with you, in a positive or negative way. On one hand, it was an opportunity to get closer to one another on an emotional and physical level, but on the other, to skip over so many of the usually relationship steps and get right to sex wasn't the kind of thing that had a good track record of leading to long term partnerships. He didn't want this to be a one night stand or some kind of friends with benefits thing. He wanted to care for you, cherish you, hold you in his arms after a long day at work and kiss your forehead before blissfully drifting off to sleep. He wanted to see you sleepily stumble from the bedroom in the morning and join him for coffee in the kitchen before you both began your day. He wanted to take you somewhere lovely on some sunny day, take your hands in his, and give you a mermaid pendant. He wanted to be the only person you'd come to for stress relief.

Soon you both arrived at the farm. You opened the front door, going inside and kicking off your boots. He followed suit, taking his shoes off at the door. You turned to him.

"You alright if we head to my room?"

Yes, the plan was to have sex, but you still felt the need to ease him into this. He was usually nervous, so you'd imagine now being no different. He nodded. So, while still holding his hand, you led him back to your bedroom. It wasn't anything too fancy or special. Truthfully, aside from sleeping you didn't spend much time there. You turned on a small lamp near the bed, which illuminated the room with a dim, warm, yellowish glow. You sat on the edge of the bed, having now let go of Harvey's hand.

"Is there any particular way you'd like to proceed?"

He asked. He was really a bit lost on what you wanted from him. He wanted to do good for you. You pat the bed beside you, urging him to also sit.

"I figured we could just feel it out as we go."

He sat beside you, though wasn't looking at you just yet. He was steeling his nerves. You admired the doctor for a moment. Gently, you reached over to cup his cheek and turn his face towards you. He looked at you now, waiting for you to make the next move. You figured you'd be leading this for the most part, but were surprised when he reached for you, placing a hand on the small of your back, simply touching you. He was cute. You leaned in, kissing him softly. It didn't take him more than a moment to adjust and return the gesture. As you suspected, he didn't fight for control, though he didn't fully surrender to you either, doing fairly well at matching you. His hand wandered down, resting on your hip as you deepened the kiss. From his cheek, you trailed your hand down his chest. You'd imagined what he may look like beneath the button up and the jacket. So many layers. Left too much to the imagination. You began your attempt to push off his jacket. He pulled back slightly.

"Allow me. This is for you after all. It wouldn't be right for me to make you do all the work."

His voice was slightly hushed. You blushed hard at that. It was a new side of him. Still caring, yes, but it was more... sure. He took off his jacket, setting it on the foot of the bed. You watched as he loosened his tie, sighing a bit as he did. You were practically in awe. He looked back at you, looking you over a bit.

"If... we are to continue this direction, would you like some assistance undressing, y/n?"

You nodded, maybe a little too quickly. The idea of Harvey undressing you was just too good to pass up. You'd love to feel what those precise doctor's hands felt like brushing against your skin. He moved to be standing in front of you, slipping his hands under your shirt. He wasn't much of a tease, taking it off of you gently but with little ceremony. He set your shirt nicely off to the side before looking at you. There was a bit of a glaze over his eyes. You could only describe it as a look of want. Need.

"Will you be taking off your shirt as well, doctor?"

You teased, breaking him out of his little daze. He nodded, pulling his tie off fully.

"Yes, of course."

He went to work unbuttoning his shirt, looking down as he did. You watched it slowly open up, discarding your bra while you did. You weren't sure what exactly you expected him to look like, but you felt a soft smile creep onto your face. He was him. There was no secret six pack, he didn't look thinner or bigger than he did normally. It almost felt like you knew this is what he was going to look like, and you liked that. He still felt like himself and that was who you loved.

Once he'd set his shirt off to the side, he looked back at you. He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment. He leaned down, speaking softly.

"Could you raise your hips for me? It will be easier for me to help you undress if you do."

You did, biting the inside of your lip just a little bit. His hands were gentle, unbuttoning your pants and sliding them down to the point where you could just kick them off. He seemed to contemplate going and grabbing them to put with the rest of the clothing, but decided to redirect his attention to you. You, and how absolutely stunning you were sitting before him, mostly naked. He swallowed hard.

"How... exactly would you like me to, ah, assist with your stress problems?"

He knew he had a few ideas on what he'd like to do for you and what he'd like to do to you, but now was about you and what you wanted. You thought for a moment.

"Well, doctor-"

"Harvey."

He corrected you, much to your surprise. He blushed as he explained himself.

"Doctor is what my patients call me. People that only know me professionally, not like this. If we continue.. I'd prefer you use my name."

Your heart melted a little bit.

"Of course."

You continued, correcting yourself this time, using a softer tone as opposed to the teasing one you had intended on using.

"Well, Harvey, I think what would help me destress the most would be seeing the rest of you and deciding from there."

If you didn't know any better, you would have thought you saw his glasses fog up, just a little bit. He unbuckled his belt, looking down as he did. It seemed to be how he avoided looking at you. He set his belt aside, soon followed by his pants. You looked him over with almost a hungry sort of expression. You couldn't find the words to describe how you wanted this soft spoken, nervous man to carnally destroy you.

He sat beside you now. You put a hand on his thigh, leaning closer to him. He looked at you, a softness in his eyes that you couldn't quite place. Regardless, you kissed him. He didn't hesitate in kissing you back, wrapping an arm back around you, placing a firm hand on your hip, pulling you closer.

He deepened the kiss this time, getting more excited than nervous now. You liked that. You wanted him to take more initiative with this. You let him lead, almost curious how far this bold streak would take him. He broke the kiss, mostly to catch his breath. You spoke, out of breath.

"I want you on top of me, Harvey."

It wouldn't relieve much stress if you had to do all the work. His face flushed red, and he took a moment to find his voice, nodding first.

"I can do that. Would you like to lay down then?"

You gave him one more peck on the lips before moving to lay back comfortably in your bed. You sprawled yourself out in the most "casual-sexy" way you could manage without putting too much effort in, mostly to tease him. He moved to hold himself up over you, looking down at you.

"If this is the way you'd like to proceed, I should ask if you have the proper... protection."

Right. You almost forgot about that. You couldn't actually think of a reason you would have bought condoms recently, considering your dry spell. It's not like you'd been expecting this tonight. You thought for a moment.

"Does the clinic have plan B?"

He went a bit wide eyed at the implications of that.

"W-we do, but are you sure you want to depend on that?"

You half shrugged.

"I'm alright with it if you are."

He weighed his options for a moment. On one hand, it was risky for multiple reasons, he knew that, but on the other hand, you looked so incredibly enticing beneath him and here you were, essentially asking him to fill you with himself. You were getting inside his head and fogging his better judgement. He nodded.

"Only if you promise to come to me if anything happens afterwards."

Whether that be side effects of the medication or otherwise, he wanted you healthy and taken care of.

You smiled, pulling him down to kiss you. He was so sweet. It's why you think you were so okay with all of this. It was Harvey. He'd never hurt you, he'd always treat you so preciously. While still supporting himself with one hand, his other moved to your waist, moving up and down aimlessly. You let your hands run down his chest, feeling him up a little. A little more curiously, you let one hand wander down further towards his boxers. You smiled slightly against his lips as his breath hitched. You were glad to know you got him excited like this.

He broke the kiss, looking down at you with lidded eyes, a needy expression. It definitely did something for you. His gaze trailed down, as far as it could from his current position.

"May I?"

He asked, a slight roughness to his voice you'd never heard before. It shot through your body and straight between your legs. You nodded, not even completely sure what he was asking to do to you. Then again, you'd let him do just about anything to you as long as he kept looking at you like that.

His hand moved down, fingertips slipping into the front of your panties. You bit your lip, anticipating his touch. He started slowly, brushing against your clit with his middle finger, rubbing at an almost teasing pace. Slow circles one direction, then the other, he'd pause, just for a moment, before pressing a little harder than before and rubbing up and down, a little faster. You started to squirm beneath him, which seemed to be what he wanted as he smiled, ever so slightly.

"I suppose I should ask."

He started, not relenting on his touches.

"If I were to get you to orgasm like this, clitorally that is, it would be a fairly satisfying, but short lived experience. If I were to bring you to a vaginal orgasm, it would be longer lasting, and more intense. However, if you were to finish this way first, it would ideally let your body relax, as well as produce enough slickness to make a vaginal orgasm much easier to achieve."

You gave him a pleading expression, wanting him to get to the point. He seemed to understand.

"All of that to say, Y/n, would you like to experience both tonight, or would you prefer we get to the good part now?"

With the fact that he had continued gently torturing your clit through all of that, you truthfully gathered very little of what he said. What you did gather, was he wanted to get you off, and then fuck you into getting off again, which you weren't necessarily against at the moment. You whined softly as you responded.

"Do whatever you want to me as long as you please stop teasing."

He smiled some at that, though blushing.

"Anything you say, dear."

He said softly, beginning to move a little faster with his hand, though not so fast as to be uncomfortable. You were going to have to ask him where he learned how to do this, because fuck was he good at it. He leaned down, kissing your lips. Perfectly timed, as you arched your back, pressing yourself into his hand, moaning into his lips as he worked you through it, slowing until you relaxed beneath him. He pulled away, letting you catch your breath. He moved back, working on getting your now wet panties off and put to the side. He admired you laying there, flushed red, panting, glistening. A beautiful sight, all for him.

As you came down off your high, you looked over at him. He was hesitating slightly, pursing his lips, sort of messed with the edge of his boxers.

"Something wrong?"

You asked, catching his attention.

"No, nothing is wrong. Apologies, I was just a little distracted."

You weren't completely sure you believed that. You didn't have much time to look into it more though, because you were promptly distracted by him pulling his boxers off. You felt a slight chill wash over your body, mostly in anticipation. It'd been a minute since you'd had anyone, or anything really, inside of you like this. He wasn't an intimidating size by any means though he might have been slightly girthier than you would have said you were used to. You could imagine how good he'd feel filling you up, how nicely he'd stretch you. Thankfully, you didn't have to just imagine for long.

He set his boxers aside, adjusting his glasses slightly. He moved his hand back between your legs, pushing a finger in carefully. You bit your lips as he rocked it inside of you for a moment before going and adding a second. He almost looked lost in thought, staring down at his hand between your legs, watching his fingers disappear inside of you with such ease. Soon, he added a third finger and you started to get impatient. You didn't want to wait any longer. With the hand not prepping you, he gently rubbed your thigh.

It was tempting for him to continue like this. He wanted to see you there, in pure bliss, as much as he could tonight. He didn't know if he'd get you like this again. Tonight wasn't about his desires though, it was about you and getting you to relax. He pulled his fingers out, adjusting so he could spread your legs a little more and place himself in between them. You could feel him pressed against you.

"Are you ready?"

He asked in a gentle tone. You nodded quickly, too eager for him to fill you up. He took a deep breath, adjusting, and slowly starting to press into you. You let your head fall back, eyes closing. You let yourself get lost in the feeling, focusing on how he felt as he started to push inside of you. At the same time, you felt his hand grab yours, making an attempt to lace your fingers with his. You held onto him. He was so sweet, even like this. He stopped. You looked up at him now, seeing that his own eyes were closed. He was taking a moment to relish in the feeling of you around him. Warm, soft, and so incredibly good. His chest rose and fell like he had just finished a marathon. It was a sight to behold. When his eyes opened, he looked down at you, gently squeezing your hand.

"Still alright?"

He asked, out of breath already. You nodded. He nodded in return. He leaned down slightly, bringing your hand up to him so he could kiss your knuckles. He places a few, soft kisses there. It almost distracted you from the way his hips began to slowly rock. He let your hand back down, adjusting to pull your hips more so into his lap. He was trying to get a very particular angle, guiding one of you legs up over his shoulder.

"There we go."

He said in a near whisper, giving a more precise thrust now, causing you to gasp, gripping the blanket beneath you. He had to have done this before. Recently. This couldn't be the same socially nervous doctor you knew. He was still his sweet self, but he knew too well how to work your body, maybe more than even you did. Either way, he must've liked the reaction you gave because he did it again, finding his pace gradually. You moaned beneath him, which only encouraged him on. When you looked at his face, it was an expression of focus mixed with need, desperation.

His pace gradually increased until you felt you were going to lose yourself. Just as it started to get to being too much, he'd slow, causing you to whine beneath him. This happened at least 3 times. You couldn't tell if he was doing it on purpose or not. By that third time, you looked up at him.

"Harvey, please-"

He nodded, seeming to understand your plea as he kept his faster speed. You felt your orgasm start to bubble up inside of you before finally, finally, bursting through your body in a way you couldn't remember feeling. Your body tensed, twitching, your hips trying to fuck themselves down onto him more than just what he was doing as he worked you through it. Right as you began to feel your senses start to calm down, you felt him bottom out, holding there, groaning quietly. You could feel the warm feeling inside of you as he came. He was quite the sight like that. Blushy, sweaty, and completely caught up in pleasure. He lowered your leg, readjusting before carefully pulling out.

He took a second to breathe. Then he looked at your face.

"Stay here. Do you have tissues somewhere? Or, um, maybe a washcloth?"

You gestured to the door that led to the bathroom. He stood up, going that direction to find something to clean you both up with. He took that time to think about what just happened. Not only did he get to be intimate with the woman he was in love with, but he came inside of you. Which, granted, was something he'd have to deal with later. Even so, he felt like he was lighter than air. He came back with a wash cloth, slightly damp with warm water. He cleaned you up, as well as himself.

"Would you like any assistance getting into pajamas?"

He asked. You looked up at him, tired and honestly a little clingy at the moment.

"Harvey, just come here and lay down."

He seemed a little surprised, though did as you asked. He pulled the blanket back so you could at least be beneath it. You got comfortable and moved to be close to him, snuggling against him. He slowly wrapped his arms around you, like you were fragile or maybe as if you'd disappear like some dream if he held you too tight. You felt his chin rest on the top of your head. You closed your eyes, taking a moment to just think.

You were laying here, naked, wrapped in Harvey's arms, listening to the sound of his breathing. You felt calm. Tomorrow, you'd probably be a little embarrassed. Tomorrow, you'd have to talk about it, figure out what this meant for your relationship. You hoped this wasn't just a one time thing. You'd like to do more with him. You'd like to be in an actual relationship. You felt his hand move, gently rubbing your back. You decided to focus on that for now. For now, you were cozy and comfortably pressed up against Harvey's chest, and that's all that mattered.

You felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

Whatever happened tomorrow, you were sure it would be okay.

#stardew valley fanfiction #fanfic #smut #stardew valley #stardew harvey #sdv harvey #harvey x farmer #sdv harvey smut #no proofreading we die like men

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plumbobgothica · 8 hours ago

Text

Moss has some shit to say.

CW: Stalking, harassment, bullying, PTSD, mental health.

**This is a long post**

Hello everyone!

First, I want to express how incredibly grateful I am for this community. It brings me so much joy to see all the diverse playstyles, aesthetics, stories, and endless creativity that fill this amazing space.

However, not all my experiences here have been entirely positive. In fact, I have both witnessed and experienced harm from this community, and it has made me feel hesitant about being here at all.

I want to address it:

Stalking, harassing, and bullying someone simply because you don’t like the content they post is not okay. In fact, it's really weird.

Everyone deserves to have a positive and safe experience here. It’s essential to set and protect your personal boundaries online, especially if there are topics that are particularly sensitive or triggering for you.

Here are some ways to take care of yourself in this online space that DON'T include bullying, shaming, or punishing someone for their storytelling decisions:

Unfollow the person

If disengaging from someone who’s causing you distress is what you need, do it! You don’t owe anyone an explanation when it comes to prioritizing your own well-being.

Block the person

If blocking someone feels like a safer option for you, go ahead. You can do this quietly and respectfully, without resorting to cruelty, harassment, or public shaming.

It’s also important to remember that if certain content triggers past trauma for you, it’s not the fault of the person posting it (especially if they have clear content warnings). Your trauma is valid, and your need for safety is valid. But bullying someone who’s not responsible for your trauma is not okay, not healthy, and not productive. I know that this type of thing is often fear-driven, so I say this as delicately as possible. 🖤 We do not always behave rationally when something triggers our PTSD.

Filter out specific tags/post content.

If there are tags you’d rather not see, you can use the “Filtered Tags” section in your settings to filter them out. You can also add someone’s username to the “Filtered Post Content” section in your settings.

Use browser extensions to help you manage your feed.

I don’t personally have experience with this, but as far as I am aware, there are browser extensions available that can further help you customize what kind of content you are exposed to on Tumblr. If you suffer from PTSD, this might useful in general when online, not just for this platform.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again:

Storytelling is a powerful tool for addressing difficult subject matter, and it always has been. Telling stories is a fundamental part of being human, and it’s important to remember that just because someone includes something problematic in their story doesn’t mean they endorse it in real life. In fact, we need stories that tackle problematic issues specifically so that we can portray them as harmful. Fiction has always been an essential tool for reinforcing & shaping societal understanding of right and wrong (mythology exists for a reason).

It’s completely okay if there are certain things you don’t want to read about or be exposed to on Tumblr! Here in the Sims community, storytellers can and should label their posts with clear content warnings, both in their tags and at the beginning of their posts.

Readers who are concerned about triggering content can take steps to protect themselves, while also understanding that those who post content related to difficult topics are not responsible for the trauma you may have experienced in your past.

If someone is actively advocating for real-life harm or prejudice through their stories, that’s a completely different issue and should not be tolerated or supported.

However, it’s important to understand the difference. (I.e., I've never seen anyone accuse Stephen King of being a real-life axe-murderer).

I have PTSD myself, and I appreciate clear content warnings on story posts. They give me the ability to decide whether I feel able to engage with certain topics on any given day, because my tolerance fluctuates, as is normal for someone with PTSD.

However, I would never attack or harass someone for writing content that touches on themes related to my trauma, as I am mature enough to recognize that the person sharing their story has absolutely nothing to do with the harm I may have experienced in my past.

Your emotional well-being is important, and your trauma is valid. But fixating on, stalking, and harassing someone because of something they’ve posted in their story is not okay at all.

Also please understand that someone writing darker material could in fact be subconsciously processing their own personal trauma, whether they realize it or not. You don't have to read it, but you also don't have to be cruel about it.

Ultimately, if someone’s content is upsetting for you, the best thing to do is disengage and move on.

Obsessing over the person and attempting to harm them or jeapordize their ability to be in this community is wrong (and it certainly won't help you heal, either). There is a big difference between causing real-world harm to an actual person (such as harrassing inviduals in the simblr community) vs someone causing fake harm to fake pixel people for ficticious reasons.

I'm begging people to understand that distinction.

This does NOT mean you are obligated to tolerate things that make you uncomfortable by any means, and this post is NOT a defense of any kind of violence, harm, or prejudice.

There are ways for us to make this a safe space for ourselves and others without resorting to harrassment, public humiliation, or mob-mentality, etc.

Sometimes people make mistakes and unintentionally cause harm, and the resulting pain is real and valid on both sides. For those who are committed to fostering a culture of accountability & healing—rather than focusing on punishment, shame, and canceling—I highly recommend reading On Cancel Culture, Accountability, and Transformative Justice (a brief excerpt from adrienne maree brown's We Will Not Cancel Us). This excerpt is a must-read for anyone who chooses to spend a lot of time in online spaces!

Luckily, most people here seem really wonderful and my experience thus far in this community has definitely been far more positive than not. I hope to stick around.

Anyways, I will probably panic and delete this later. 😅

Thanks for reading my rant. I promise I'll get back to posting silly sims stuff now, but I felt that I needed to get this out there.

Edited to add: if anyone feels like they want to block or unfollow me for whatever reason after reading this, I respect your decision. 😊Do what's right for you, I don't get offended by that sort of thing.

-Moss

#cw: stalking #cw: ptsd #cw: bullying #cw: mental health #moss muses #delete later #long post #simblr #sims community #the sims community #ts3 community

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ideasnstuff · 2 days ago

Text

The lovers au

Because yes.

A dialogue between skk

C:How do you did it?

D: Wh.. at?

C: You hear me. I know you can hear me how do you did it?

D: Pardon?

C: How did you do it?

D: Do what?

C: Oh so you can hear me. You helped those two.

D: I suppose I did...

C: How.

D: I think... I talked with them.

C: You... you talked?

D: Sure.

C: Just... just talked?!

D: Yeah I did. And?

C: ...

C: That woman over there... i know her name is Yosano Akikko. She's beautiful but she seems to exhaust herself with her own punishment. And we all do. I see her all the time.

D: I did felt her desperation...

C: Felt?

D: Yes, can't you feel it?

C: I can see it. Interesting how you can know that by feelings...

D:...

C: But you helped her, for the first time she decided to stop for a while. In three years, I saw her face without any tears.

D: ....

C: That's also part of the reasons I wanted to talk with you.

D: Hm.... what about the other reason?

C: ...

C: I ... I have been watching you for a while like I always do with everybody.

I know every single thing about these people. Poor souls, I have seen people arriving, leaving. Mostly, arriving and desperately trying to accomplish something impossible like them. I see everything, I can see the way those two scream, I can see their tears and monologues. I know each person here. I know everything.

D: How wise.

C: ...

C: And yet, I can't figure out your punishment as much time I spent looking at you. I saw how you tried to help the people I saw everyday but I don't think that's a punishment.

D: And how do you know that?

C: because helping people is a choice, not a punishment.

D: Are you sure?

C: I know what I see and that's what I see.

D: Hm...

C: ...

C: Yosano... her punishment is terrible..

D: Oh? Do tell me?

C: Huh? You couldn't understand it by seeing it?

D: No.

C: Huh... Strange....

D: ...

C: She has been trying to heal a bunch of kids, but everytime she does, they kill themselves with her own scalpel. The very one she used to cure them.

D: ...

C: It's almost depressing seeing her doing that over and over again. I don't think she realizes she is wasting her time.

D: It's the eternity.

C: It's the eternity yes, but this is eternal suffering. These people know nothing but suffering and despair.

D: ...

C: I never saw them without screaming, crying or pained. They are always in this state of desperation.

D: I can feel their desperation, yes.

C: I can see it.

D: Hm.

D: In short you saw them but you didn't help them.

C: What makes you think I was fine with it?

D: You did nothing to help them.

C: Watch your sentences bandaged dude. I have the upper hand here.

D: ...

C: What?

D: Do I still have the bandages?

C: Huh? Are you asking me that? Can't you... just look down?

D: ...

C: Oh.

D: ...

C: You... You can't see.

D: That's...

C: The truth, that's what the facts say, that's what I am saying. You are blind.

D: Yeah... I suppose I am.

C: But even so, why were you able to figure out Yosano's desperation?

D: hm? I felt it.

C: Without... seeing it?

D: Yeah. I feel a lot lately.

C: ...

C: That's weird, we are dead.

D: That's what I told myself when I arrived here.

C: You shouldn't feel like that.

D: Tough luck.

C: ...

C: Do you... perhaps feel something... now?

D: ... are you treating this like some superpower or something?

C: Do you? Answer the question.

D: Strangely... I feel nothing.

C: What? But I thought you felt "lately a lot".

D: Well I am not feeling not "lately a lot" right now. And if anything it's a blessing.

C:..

C: I don't know what to say.

D: Don't say anything then. Why didn't you help poor Yosano?

C: All mighty aren't we? I have been here for three years now and if your punishment is being blind, mine is being invisible.

D: Oh. That's.... certainly... unexpected...

C: You couldn't obviously tell, you are blind.

D: Well... I am...

C: But to answer your question... I can't help them, even if I wanted to.

D: Can't they hear you? Like I can?

C: They do, they can but if they care they don't show.

D: ...

C: Besides I see that they are too much drowned in their own demise and despair. If someone ever would try to be close to them, they'd ignore the person.

D: ...

C: And they can't see me so... I have given up on helping them, on helping people a long time ago.

D: ...

C: You can't see, but things are like what I see. Simple and obvious. If it's cruel it's cruel. Rarely it's something positive, since this is a punishment.

D: Forever was not enough huh?

C: ...

D: You said you have been here for three years.

C: I think so. Time is meaningless here. Since it's eternal, there are no need to such abstract things as time. It won't even end, so there is no need to count it.

D: ... You do have a point.

C: I know that. It won't ever end.

D: So... what do people do around here?

C: I observe. They try to accomplish impossible tasks. Over there I see a man. He's desperately trying to finish a puzzle but whenever he makes his move, the puzzle changes. He gets frustated, you must feel it.

D: ... I do.

C: Ranpo is an intelligent soul. But his punishment was carefully chosen and purposefully made an impossible and frustating situation.

D: ...

C: Kunikida is another one. He's an idealist, I can see how his eyes widen with tears and fear whenever he sees the kids being killed. Sometimes they commit suicide, other times it's something different.

D: ...

C: He has a notebook with him. It's green colored. It's his ideals' book. He insists on carrying it with him. Apparently it makes his suffering even more terrible.

D: I can feel it.

C: You have the kid who won't ever get that heavy rock to the top of that mountain. Not because he is weak, but because the montain is covered with thin clay that makes it roll back down.

D: A kid?

C: Yeah. It's depressing really. But he's a tough one. He doesn't give up and he is not as terrible as the others.

D: What else?

C: Huh I don't know. What can you feel?

D: ... A lot.

C: Choose a side and I'll tell you about what I know.

D: Are you, stranger whose name I don't know-

C: I don't think that's necessary.

D: offering to be my eyes?

C: Like I said eternity is a lot of time. I am bored.

D: So... boredom huh...

C: It's not hard to tell, no one can see me. You are the first person I have talked with.

D: That's...

C: So, I can be your eyes for-

D: The eternity?

C:...

C: You know what I was going to say something similar but you are so annoying that I won't.

D: Hm.. what about that feeling there.

C: Huh? Where?

D: Over there... I feel deep pain... I hear crying too.

C: Oh that's a boy. He is suffering his sister's death or if it is not death she disapears whenever he touches her.

D: Oh.

C: Not the worst type of punishment if you ask me. But it's still painful, specially when it's his sister.

D: Huh... I can feel... love?

C: Wha- I am only saying what I am seeing!

D: Never said you weren't.

C: Her name is Naomi and she disapears a lot. I would say 1000 times per day or something, but it really is variable and, I don't know what a day is.

D: Fair enough.

C: Can't you feel anything else?

D: I feel a lot.

C: Well, that's helpful. I see a lot too.

D: You don't seem very close to these people...

C: ...

D: You seem to not care about their pain.

C: We all have our own graves to carry. No one is going to do it for me.

D:...

C: I have my own punishment too. Why would I pity them?

D: Sometimes I forget that.

C: ...

C: Well... welcome to this... place. Pros: you don't need to eat, to wash. But against these is your own punishment.

D: A certainly heavy price to pay.

C: See for the bright side, you won't need to change your bandages.

D: When you say like that...

C: In fact you should stop wearing them.

D: ...

C: No one pays attention to you.

D: Sounds like a dream.

C: For a while, maybe. Then it gets lonely.

D: ...

C: For me at least. They... they don't seem - look lonely.

D: They do feel a lot.

C: Yeah. They are not alone.

D: ...

C: They have their desperation and pain with them. It's a good distraction from loneliness.

D: ...

C: Yeah...

D: I'd say good for them, but ...

C: Don't. Don't finish that sentence.

D: Sorry.

C:...

C: I just met you today-

D: Was it really today though? Wasn't time something relative?

C: A bit of both. But the point is- I know, for some reason, you are the type of person I'd hate in life.

D: Hm. That's... interesting

C: Isn't it? The way you can't see but you can actually be an annoying asshole even without seeing me?!

D: And having fun while at it

C: You- wait. You.... are you feeling something? Right now?

D: Not particularly. I fell the others and your... strange emotions.

C: And what's that supposed to mean?!

D: Do what you wish with it.

C:...

C: I'll ignore it then. Huh... Naomi disapeared again.

D: That's what I feel seconds ago...

C: Were they really seconds?

D: ...

D: Stop that.

C: No. But anyways. We've been chatting for a while. Yosano and Kunikida returned from their break, thanks to you, but now they are suffering again.

D: I can feel it.

C: Yeah and I can see it. Stop doing that.

D: I was just saying.

C:...

C: What did you do?

D: Nothing for now?

C: Wha- no! I meant what brought you here?

D: It's hard to tell, hard to think the reason.

C: Think about what you did when you were alive.

D: I don't remember anything.

C: Nothing?

D: Anything worth remembering.

C: ....

D: Plus, it's been overwhelming the amount of emotions I feel.

C: Was it different? When you were alive I mean?

D: I can't tell. I don't really remember.

C: You just arrived.

D: Like you said time moves slowly here.

C: I didn't say that, but .. i understand. All I see is people and suffering.

D:...

C: But what I meant what did you do before you got here?

D: Ah, in life?

C: Yes. Were you... I don't know a... criminal?

D: ...

C: Oh my God.

D: ...

C: You were.

D: No.

C: ...

D: But I killed myself.

C: ...

D: I killed myself with my lover.

C: You...

D: Yeah.

C:...

C: And your lover. Do you miss your lover?

D: I don't know. It's hard to tell if I really loved her.

C: Well, you loved her enough to die with her. As messed up as it sounds.

D: I think you might have a point.

C:...

C: But I was talking about what you did in life. What were you? A womanizer?

D: I told you I had one lover, why would you assume I was a womanizer?

C: Just and idea.

D:...

D: I was a writer.

C: A writer?

D: Or at least I tried to be one.

C: Huh... could never have guessed. That's surprising.

D: Why?

C: You don't look the type of writer. I was a poet, myself.

D: Ugh.

D: I never liked poets.

C: Don't care, didn't ask.

D: Rude.

C: But .. Figures. For the record was never too keen on writers like you.

D: How so? Bad experiences?

C: No, just... boredom.

D: Boredom?

C: People who stuck to the words are boring.

D:...

D: Just for you to know taking this as a fully offense.

C: Too bad for you then.

D: I'll have you know I have a wonder type of writing.

C: I'll only believe it when I see it.

What's your name?

D: So straight forward.

C: Say it.

D: Dazai. Dazai Osamu.

C: Normally I wouldn't care but would you like me to call you 'Dazai' or 'Osamu'?

D: ...

D: Dazai. Osamu is for my lovers only.

C: Got it.

C: Never heard of it. I am Chuuya. Nakahara Chuuya.

N: Nakahara or Chuuya?

C: Don't ever call me by Nakahara again. Chuuya.

D: First name basis?

C: Don't overthink it, I am not into formalities.

D: Is that so?

C: Yeah they are overrated.

D: Maybe you are just a brute.

C: What is that supposed to mean?

D: Nothing. I think... your name is somehow familiar....

C: Probably from Rjmbaud's translations.

D: Right. I think that's it. One woman liked to read it so I saw the name.

C: Nice man. Nice poetry. The woman had great taste.

D: I'll have to disagree with that.

C: On the literature opinion or on the woman?

D: Actually? Both. I ended up dumping her.

C: I knew you were some kind of hearbreaker.

D: She was boring.

C: She readed poetry.

D: Precisely.

C: ...

C: The only bad taste she had was her taste in men.

D: Why are you judging me like that? Poetry sucks. Specially Rimbaud's. French snob people.

C: ...

C: I am not taking your advice Dazai, least of you. Of all people, not you.

D: Least of you? Chuuya, it's not like you have anyone else to talk to!

C: ...

C: You might be dead, Dazai, but I can hurt you, you know.

D: Sorry.

C: You are not sorry, asshole.

D: Oh can you tell?

C: I can see it.

D: ...

D: Eh you are right. And why the nickname?

C: What you said was typical of assholes and during my life I met a lot of them.

D: Ah, the perks of being a poet!

C: Do you have something against poetry?

D: It sucks. Why make the text short if it can all be in prose?

C: I was right, you have no taste. I pity those women.

D: They don't regret sleeping with me, you know.

C: Like I care.

D: Just saying.

C: Even after dead, the spirits won't give me any peace.

D: Oh poor you.

C: You are being annoying again.

C: I bet you certainly didn't work your life didn't you?

D: I thought I told you I was a writer.

C: Yeah and a certified womanizer as well.

D: I can't deny that, but I believe you said that was not a job.

C: It's not. It's a choice of life and look where it took you.

D: It's not that deep.

C: ...

D: And that was not what made me be here.

C: Then what was it?

D: I killed people.

C: What? Are you messing with me?

D: I wish I could say I cared about their deaths but I don't.

C: ...

D: They were all my lovers. Part of the reason I dumped that woman was because she refused to kill herself with me.

C: What?!

D: It's romantic dying together. You said yourself.

C: I didn't say that?!

D: You said something similar.

C: ...

C: You are the kind of people I'd punch in the face. But since you can't see... it wouldn't be fair.

D: I am glad you are thinking rationaly for once. Thank you immensely for your comprehension.

C: Silence would be a better option, you know.

D: But enough about me. What are you doing here? What could possibly a poet had made to deserve such a cruel punishment?

C:...

C: I can't tell if you are mocking me or asking me.

D: Take it as you please.

C: ...

C: Ha now you are being straight forward huh? Hypocrite.

D: I think it's only fair! Besides, no one is seeing you, don't worry!

C: Will you please stop with those comments? I spent thre- time in silence!

D: You should be thanking me then.

C: For what?!

D: You'd be lonely without me

C: ...

C: Dazai?

D: Hm?

C: Yosano is talking alone again.

D: I see.

C: You mean you feel.

D: ...

D: Shut up.

Hear me out

The Lovers...

#bsd #bungou stray dogs #bsd chuuya #bsd dazai #dazai osamu #nakahara chuuya #bsd skk #skk #soukoku #the lovers #AU #ideasnstuff #wippp

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