#let my brain repress that shit again

[phagodyke]

well.

[rosewaterandivy]

vena amoris

Summary: some part of me must have died / the first time that you called me “Baby”

Pairing: s.h. x reader

W.C.: 2.5K

Themes: the usual— repressed feelings, smut mentions, Cabaret quotes, Steve ‘down bad’ Harrington™️

A/N: well ahoy there! Did I take a mental health day and brain rot this into being? You bet! Title is Latin for “the vein of love.”

“Oh god,” You’d remarked, with a knowing smirk and lifted brow. “Can you imagine?”

Your tone brokered no argument. It wasn’t a whimsical, starry-eyed, sigh filled statement coming from a naive girl.

No, instead it was a wry, flippant remark laden with sarcasm and pity as the woman by the college green gleefully sobbed out a yes, yes, of course! to a polite smattering of applause as her newly minted fiancé slipped a sparkling band onto her finger.

“And on graduation day, no less.” You bat away the few hairs that had flown into your face buoyed by the summer breeze, your graduation gown fluttering about your legs. “Damn my guy, let the woman have her moment jeez.”

Steve struggled to laugh and maintain composure, because the thing was, he actually could imagine it, and had even done so himself from time to time. The time honored predicament of “keeping it casual” while remaining friends.

He remembers it clear as day, how you’d met in front of the dining hall as he’d overslept (again) and rushed to shove his pockets full of cereal before his morning lecture so as to not fall asleep during Macroeconomics.

”Hey, Buck-o!” You’d crowed from the table riddled with pens, to-go coffee cups, and clipboards, “Are you registered to vote?”

All he can remember thinking, after the pre-requisite it’s too damn early for this was the ever eloquent, well, fuck me.

Nevermind that you were wearing a Reagan Ruined Everything shirt accompanied by the flaming visage of the man. Nevermind that your friend merely snorted at your bombastic accosting of students for the sake of democracy. Nevermind that several people had shoulder checked him in their rush to get waffles and coffee.

”Ritchie Rich,” You’d said with a smile, “Voting solely for your interests or ready to join the proletariat with the rest of us?”

It was an unlikely friendship, to say the least. You, a blue-blood former ballet dancer until “my tits grew in” majoring in poli-sci and him, the sole progeny of a captain of industry on the ivy-league to corporate office pipeline.

So, it really was inevitable that you’d fall into bed together. Even without your grandparents wheedling and match-making attempts. But still, you weren’t dating— he wasn’t that kind of guy and you weren’t even interested in a relationship anyway.

It was sex and friendship, that was all.

Argento movie marathons because it was “a crime you’ve never seen something outside of a cineplex, Harrington,” underneath mountains of a goose-down duvet. Trips to the Cape just to pass the time, M&M’s riddling the hardwood floors in front of a roaring fire with his head between your thighs. Dragging him out on cold autumn mornings to canvass for local elections. Late nights where you’d pass out in front of the flickering tv screen after watching Bitter Rice.

Sure, Robin side-eyed the entire situation and Dustin never failed to remind him how much of an idiot Steve was being. But, in fairness, it was never something that struck either of you as odd.

It was college, people do weirder and more detrimental shit all the time without the evergreen excuse of misguided youth. Who was he to look a gift horse in the mouth?

Eddie was the one to ruin it all.

“Dude,” He’d said, surprisingly serious as he loaded up his bike for the drive back to New York. “Not for nothin, but if I were you Harrington,” He inclined his head toward where you were at the coffee cart. “I’d lock that shit down.”

”Whaddya mean? We’re just friends.”

“Sure buddy,” Eddie laughed, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep tellin’ yourself that.”

But did he really think about it after that? Of course not, just continued to careen toward graduation and the inevitable.

He was destined for great things, according to his father: continuing the family legacy and filling the coffers, working abroad in Europe for year post-grad and securing those overseas accounts.

So when he wasn’t suffering through mind-numbing lectures, and being at dear old dad’s beck and call, Steve was doing what he did best: wilding with the gang or hanging out with you.

Which mostly resulted in fucking at increasingly creative locations at your place or his, but he digresses.

His graduation was uneventful— his father sternly nodded his approval while his mother posed them like dolls for a family photo. They’d drug him to a prolonged who’s who of his father’s connections under the guise of a celebration dinner, to which none of his friends had been invited.

Steve had schlepped himself back to the apartment, less drunk than he would’ve preferred given the circumstances. Only to be greeted by you at the door, in one of your more creative get-ups consisting of a 1920’s boudoir set with stockings.

Plum-painted lips split like a ripe fruit, white pearly teeth gleamed in the dim hallway light. And his heart nearly beat its way out of his chest.

“Willkommen, bienvenue, welcome,” You gently kick the door of his apartment the rest of the way open to reveal people packed to the brim inside— Robin, Dustin, Eddie.

“Fremde, étrange, stranger.”

Because of course you’d throw him a going away party, themed no less (“Cabaret only seemed appropriate since you’re Berlin-bound come morning,”). The drinks are flowing and the music is thumping and all he wants to do is kiss you, so he does.

And the world doesn’t cease to turn, the music doesn’t stop, his friends don’t give a damn. No one is shocked by this turn of events, not even the elusive ex of Stanford fame Nancy Wheeler.

Because if there’s one thing that everyone knows, well everyone excluding you because if you somehow caught on to him Steve might actually drop dead right then and there—

What everyone knew was this: Steve Harrington was not and had never been a casual guy.

He heard Eddie mumble something about Sisyphus into his drink before pulling him off of you. Your lipstick was smeared and a little patchy now, but he sure as shit didn’t care, his own mouth was probably branded now too, bruise-colored as if he’d bitten into an overripe stone fruit.

A big deal is made about getting the King a drink, as Eddie all but frog marches Steve to the bar.

“So,” He greets, clapping him on the back, “You’re down bad.”

Steve nearly chokes on the beer, the frothy foam ticking at his nose. He swallows past his heart lodged in his throat, and shakes his head.

“It’s nothing.”

“Tell that to your mouth, Liza,” He sweeps a thumb against Steve’s bottom lip, it comes back riddled in purple lipstick. “You know you leave tomorrow, right?”

Steve turns back to the bar and signals for a shot of something, anything really. He sips at his beer in the interim, letting Eddie’s declaration linger in the air between them.

They drink in silence until Robin stumbles in, dragging Steve away claiming “besties before the resties!”

He spies you and Dustin chatting nearby, you catch his eye with a lascivious and exaggerated wink before throwing your head back in laughter at something the dingus had said.

The party rages on for hours— he’s already packed and ready to go for his flight tomorrow, and he knows you’d put a lot of effort into this send off, but Steve would like nothing more than to wrap himself around you and fall into bed. Eventually someone catches onto this and alerts the guests that they “don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here!”

Steve doesn’t know who to thank for that, Nancy maybe. He’ll figure it out later. At that moment, he was more concerned with getting those glasses out of your hands and that garter belt on the floor.

“Hey, you okay?” You’d asked in the early morning light, watching as he stumbled into his pants and threw on a shirt.

Your face was freshly scrubbed of your makeup from last night, soft and open as your eyes trailed him from your spot in his bed.

He was a weak, weak man when he’d sat down with a sigh and asked, “Tell me not to go?”

He can hear you shuffle across the bed, can feel the warmth of your body as it drapes against his back.

“Tell me not go to,” Steve continues, “Tell me to blow off my dad, the Harrington destiny, tell me to fuck it all and that I can figure something else out.”

You nose along the column of his throat, lips settling at the nape of his neck. His hand finds its way to yours, arms wrapped against his shoulders, fingers dancing along his collarbone. He links a solitary finger with yours crooking into each other like monkeys in a barrel.

“Oh babe,” You sigh, the pet name rolling prettily off your tongue, “You know I won’t do that, as much as I would delight in smearing the Harrington name.”

You grip him all the tighter.

“You have a plane to catch and a life to start. A life you were dragged kicking and screaming into but you know what?”

“What?”

“The only way out is through, Steve.” You rest your head on his shoulder, continuing, “The changes you want to make? Well, it’s your life so make them. Who’s going to stop you? You’re a blue-blood white man in a world built to serve people like you.”

“Are you going to lecture me about the patriarchy? Because it’s too early for that—"

“I’ll spare you, just this once.” You tease, “But no, I’m just saying that you have options and it’s a year away from your father. Take advantage of it.”

Steve knows you mean well, that you’re trying to put a positive spin on his departure but still, it hurts.

He stands back up with what he hopes is a believable smile on his face. He expects to see you settled back in the sheets when he turns around, not hopping on one leg as you attempt to jam your foot into your Vans with one hand, while clawing into a bra with the other. Somehow, you’re already in sweatpants.

He can barely restrain his laugh, “What’re you doing?”

“Uh, accompanying you to the airport, duh.”

And if his heart wasn’t already broken, surely this would’ve been the nail in the coffin.

“No, don’t get up.”

“Too late for that.”

“My bags are already in the car,” He tries again, trailing after you from the bedroom to the kitchen.

“Great! Do we have time for coffee?”

“No, seriously,” Steve catches your hand before it can land on the doorknob, tugging you back from the door.

“But,” Your voice has lost its joking tone and you can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye. “I have to say goodbye. I have to wave at you from the gate.”

“They won’t let you past security.”

“Then I’ll wave from there,” You say with a sniff, blinking the tears from your eyes. “I have to go, please.”

Steve, in that moment, chooses to glance up at the rafters of his loft apartment in an effort to keep his emotions in check. So he misses how greedily your eyes take him in, as if it’s for the last time, how you’re biting your lip so hard as to draw blood.

And by the time he looks back down again, you’ve found a spot on the floor to stare steadily at.

“Hey,” He says, curling a finger under your chin prompting you to glance up. Steve gives you a watery smile at best before imploring, “I need you to listen to me, please.”

He waits for your nod of assent before continuing.

“Everything is all set— I’ve paid the rent on the apartment for the next year, so you don’t have to worry about that. I know you won’t use the car service, but there’s a few more weeks left on that too, so.”

Your face falls with the finality of it all. That Steve is actually leaving, that he’ll be in Europe for the next year “growing up” as his father intended. And that maybe you should’ve done more to help him want to stay.

“There’s a ticket for you on the counter for after midterms, I’ll meet you in London and we can do whatever you want, just like we agreed.”

You nod quickly and take a short breath. He kisses you on the forehead and promises to call once he lands.

As his hand twists open the door, you blurt out:

“Please don’t do this. Let me come with you to the airport. You’re going to be gone for so long and—"

“Baby.”

And you know he’s serious because that diminutive is solely reserved for when you’re at least two orgasms deep and he’s got your knees up by your ears. Sweat-slick and ruddy-mouthed, your whole world narrowed to focus on him, desperate longing veiled by throes of passion.

Steve doesn’t even turn back, and you can hear how his voice shakes. “If you go with me, I won’t get on the plane.”

Your arm drops from where you’d reached after him, hadn’t even registered the action as you did it.

In a small, guilty voice you say, “I know.”

The muscles of his back feather as he sighs, his grip on the doorknob knuckle-white. He knows you can’t really mean it, that it’s the scared, vulnerable part of you stumbling as you offer him an olive branch; a way out.

In the end, he got on the plane anyway.

Smash-cut to a year later, the same college green but this time it’s not him in the graduation cap and gown. Steve took the week off for your graduation festivities, flew back into Logan then rented a car for the drive to Cambridge. Made nice with your parents and grandparents, shook your grandfather’s hand politely when he’d said that Steve was a “fine boy from a fine family,” and tried in vain to forget the fact that this is the same man who’d learned his granddaughter was sexually active with him, mind you, in front of no less than a missionary, a minister, and a rabbi.

But all of that is neither here nor there, as you clap politely for the newly engaged couple, pinning your mortarboard beneath your elbow. And because he knows you, Steve catches your eye roll sequence, surely at the audacity of That Man who proposed on his girlfriend's graduation day, from Harvard no less.

He snatches the satin covered cardboard from you, and throws an arm around your shoulders walking you toward the rager of a graduation party Eddie was throwing at your apartment.

“I know,” He says conspiratorially, relishing as you lean into him. “God forbid a woman do anything.”

Your laugh is a good distraction for him, something loud and joyful to focus on as the ring box in his left pocket sinks like a stone.

[zriasstuff]

All because I liked a boy

Theodore Nott x reader

Before you scroll: THANK YOU FOR 314 FOLLOWERS RAHHH <<33 (the pi number is perfect) and special shoutout to @babygoddam who ALWAYS likes my shit first, you a real one. Feel absolutely free to send in requests (totally not because im running out of ideas)!!!! // pt.2 here

Summary: Theo is dating Pansy, but is also seeing you secretly behind her back. What happens when you get sick of that and present him an ultimatum. Will it be her or you? And what if a unexpected friendship develops from all this?

It’s your last year at hogwarts, so that makes you about 17/18 yo.

Everything about your clandestine meetups behind the quidditch field was morally wrong. As you’re walking up to your meetup spot, you feel the urge to stop yourself and go back to your dorm. You want to, and most importantly should stop making the same mistake again and again. But your lack of self control would be the eventual death of you.

Actually, no. Theodore Nott would be the eventual death of you. He was the reason for your lack of self control.

The freezing January air made it impossible to breathe, your red nose hurting from every drawn breath. Shivers ran through your body, all the way to your head where you were experiencing a first hand brain freeze. How was it possible that this is what your life has come to.

Through the foggy air, you eventually make out a tall and lean figure, approaching you with arms crossed and head down. Death has arrived.

“My bad on suggesting to meet up here in this crappy weather, but my dorm is occupied”, he breathed out while clouds of vapor escaped his mouth.

“What about the library then?”, you suggested. Any place inside would be better than this.

“No”, he decisively rejects your idea while shaking his head.

“Why not”, you ask.

“You know why”, he says, sounding increasingly annoyed.

“I don’t” You do. You know exactly why. You want to hear him say it.

“Don’t do this”

“I really don’t know”

“Stop, I really don't want to do this right now” Theo let out a repressed huff with his head lowered. One of his hands that was in his jacket pocket began ruffling through his hair. Whenever he was uneasy he did that.

“Fine”, you let it go. Truth be told, you were also afraid that you wouldn’t be able to digest what Theo would say. On one side, you knew that this was wrong. But on the other hand, admitting it was wrong meant that you would have to end it, otherwise it would make you guys horrible people.

Not that you weren’t horrible people now, but saying it just made it all the more real. Real is bad. Reality sucks. It was easier to hide in a bubble.

Theo looks you in the eyes again, assessing that this probably wasn’t a great time to do anything. But he didn’t want to make you feel like trash either.

“So how was your day?”, he awkwardly asks.

“We don’t have to do this, don’t pretend you actually care”, you sigh. His attempt was meant well, but it was futile. He could never make you feel fully cared for. And that was alright. You know you don’t deserve it anyway.

“I do care”, he exhales while nailing you with his intense stare.

“For your dirty mistress? How naive do you think i am”

“So you do want to do this right now” You thought you didn’t, but today seemed to be especially hard on you. Perhaps it was the stress from classes, perhaps it was the passive aggressive letter you got from your parents, or perhaps it was Theo barely acknowledging your existence in between classes.

“If not now, when then? I'm getting sick of not talking about it” It was time to face reality and put your fears aside.

“I thought you were okay with this”, he raised his voice confusingly.

“With being your side chick who can’t be seen or associated with you in public? Am I okay with seeing you prance around with Pansy, while I have to meet you out here like this?”

“Hey I'm not the bad guy who is forcing you to do this”

Theodore Nott wasn’t forcing you to do anything. No. He would just call you baby behind closed doors. Buy you flowers. Secretly spend nights with you. Anything a boyfriend would do, just without the emotional attachment.

And Pansy. His girlfriend he actually prances around with. His girlfriend who thinks she means the world to him. This slippery slope with Theodore down to where you were now started approximately four months ago. He had gotten into a really bad fight with her and at a party he started flirting with you. He lied about having broken up with her.

The worst part— you didn’t even find out up until two months later. In those two months he had obviously made up with her and didn’t end it, but he was sneaky. You had to give him credit for having juggled the two of you for that long without either noticing. You guess it helped that you were in Gryffindor. But after two months Theo got tired of being on edge all the time, so he decided to make his relationship with Pansy public again.

Why didn't you end it with him back then? Good question. All you remember is a bunch of unconvincing bullshit from him. But as unconvincing as it was, he gave you a sense of comfort. And although he didn’t make you feel fully cared for, he was still better than your supposed friends. Those two months you lived in the unknown were special, you had to admit. You felt special. But even the brightest spark eventually dies out.

“I know you’re not forcing me, but I'm getting fucking exhausted of this. And I feel terrible about Pansy”

“Why do you even care about her?”

“WHY DON’T YOU?!”, you suddenly burst out. Yes, he chose her over you because he had been together with her before you got together with him. Admittedly, he’s treating her better than you. But you don’t hate her. She actually didn't do anything. And unlike you, she isn't actively hurting you. It was so frustrating to know that you were choosing some guy over the “girls protect girls” vow. All because you couldn’t handle being alone again. Pathetic.

“Do you realize how ridiculous you sound Theo? Saying you like both of us, but in reality you treat both of us like shit.”

“Well what do you want me to do?”, he angrily asked.

“I'm giving you an ultimatum. Either you break up with me and stay with her. Or you tell her and deal with her breaking up with you. If she doesn’t, and if you also don’t, then I will anyway”

Perhaps it sounded a bit too extreme at the moment. You were definitely the last person to talk about morals, but it wasn’t too late yet. In the long run, it would benefit Theo too. A huge weight was finally going to be lifted off of your shoulders.

“Please, you’re not thinking straight”, he pitifully pleads in a last attempt to escape his responsibility and ultimately reality.

“I mean this works just fine. Pansy is happy, I can make you happy, and i promise you won’t feel like a dirty mistress”

A scoff is all you’re able to respond with. “You got until the end of the week, otherwise I will immediately cut off any ties with you”

Are you as important to Theo as he says you are? It’s wrong, but innerly you wish that he would break up with Pansy without telling her. That would be ideal for you. Freaking Theodore Nott, who showed you what kind of person you really were.

The next day, you caught Theo and Pansy making out in the hallways. “Ugh get a room”, you think to yourself. The day after, still no change. And on the day after that, everything was still the same. And as one could imagine, on the fourth day, still nothing.

With Friday approaching, Theo would only have two more days to make his decision according to your ultimatum. Perhaps he thought that you didn’t mean it seriously, but you did. You swore to yourself that if after two days still nothing happened, you’d break up with him. “Break up”, as in quit being fuck buddies, it wasn’t like you were in a real relationship.

Consumed by your own thoughts, you apparently missed McGonagall's announcement. Suddenly half the class was packing their stuff and getting up.

“Hey what’s going on”, you ask a guy sitting in front of you.

“Did you seriously not pay attention?”, he hisses.

“What do you think, smart-ass, since I’m asking you right now?” This was not the time to be lecturing you.

“We got a new seating arrangement, she just read out all the pairs who are going to be sitting next to each other. I think you’re with Pansy”

Shit. You swallow hard at the mention of her name.

“You sure?”, you ask dumbfounded.

“I mean she’s walking up to you right now”, he says shrugging his shoulders, “anyway gotta go”

You hope to fuck that he was wrong. But after turning around frantically, you observe that Pansy was in fact walking up to you. Out of all forty students, of course you would be next to her.

“Heyyy, looks like we’re going to be stuck with each other for a semester. Cute bracelet by the way, where’d you get it?”, she greets you in quite a chipper tone.

“You’re boyfriend actually got it for me after our first time”, is what you would say if you didn’t lie. Instead you reply “thanks, a friend got it for me but I don’t know from where”

“Y’know I actually have a really similar one”, she says as she’s sitting down next to you and pulls up her sleeve, “Theo gave it to me”. It was basically the same bracelet, just in gold instead of silver. So, what were the chances that Theo bought several bracelets in the same shop and just gave them out to whoever he fancied at the moment. Not even the slightest effort.

“How sweet”, you force yourself to say in the happiest tone you can manage.

“So what’s going on in your life?”, she continues the conversation, “I just realized that I barely know anything about you, even though we’ve known each other since year one”

You almost want to say “trust me, you don’t want to know what’s going on in my life”. Instead you say “nothing much, I’ve been thinking about maybe trying out for the quidditch team”

“Oh how cool, I’ve seen you fly in class, you totally should try out. You know during the last game between Slytherin and Gryffindor Blaise did this really funny thing where…”

What Blaise did, you’ll never know because you tuned out. But what you do know now is that Pansy is actually an incredibly nice person. In just five minutes she has shown you support, complimented you and began talking to you like you were her new friend. Perhaps she thought you could be friends. After the lesson ended, you felt almost carefree. You guys barely got any work done, but instead gossiped about anything that came to mind. Time practically passed away in seconds, and you were just hugging Pansy goodbye before going separate ways. Nothing felt weird at all until…

As you’re about to pull away from the hug, you catch Theo staring intensely from the corner of your eye. Was he suspecting something? Truth be told, you could’ve inquired more about his and Pansy’s relationship, but you decided to not be nosy. The less you knew, the better.

Later on, after you spent hours feeling like an empty shell of a human being, you slouch to your dinner table. During the day your thoughts felt like a huge, untieable knot, so you decided to ignore everything. When all classes ended, you immediately hopped into bed, rolling around, slowly rotting. Feeling nothing was better than thinking too much. There was simply too much. There was the question of whether you were a terrible human being, wondering if you should completely rebrand yourself, thinking about what Theo would do and about how it would affect Pansy, and so much more. In the end, nothing would be answered by just thinking about it.

Even while eating dinner, you have to restrain yourself from letting your most inner thoughts wander. Though, Pansy sure added fuel to the fire by smiling at you. Genuinely flashing you the purest, brightest smile. For no reason at all. Just to be nice probably. Instead of smiling back like a normal human being, you almost choke on your water.

This was it. You couldn’t pretend to be unbothered. You had to end it. You hated that option because it meant that Theo could escape from his responsibility, but it also meant that you could redeem yourself. Right? After all, you also carried some of that responsibility.

To contact Theo, you wrote “meet me at astronomy tower, important!” on a small piece of paper and slipped it into his hand after dinner was over. Hopefully no one saw that transaction. Since everyone always pushed another, it was only natural to bump into someone and touch their hand or arm.

Halfway on your way to the tower, you question if all this had been a huge mistake. Would you even have the guts to do what you had set out to do ? Theo could be so goddamn persuasive sometimes.

On your last few steps you lose a bit of balance and barely make it to the balcony, feeling like you would collapse any time soon. It even takes you a second to realize that Theo was already there. Before he turned around you just thought that it was some random guy.

“How were you faster than me”, you huff completely out of breath.

“I have my ways”, he says. “So why’d you want to meet me here”, he asks, seeming disturbingly nonchalant. As if he couldn’t guess the possible reasons.

“I want this to be as quick and painless as possible”, you begin. You gain an eyebrow raise from the otherwise collected looking guy.

“Let’s just officially end this. You and me. We are officially over.”

You were pretty sure that you didn’t sound as confident as you wish you had, but nonetheless you had done it. Officially calling the breaks would be your ticket to a normal life again. Whew did that feel freeing. But this wasn’t fully over yet.

“I thought it was up to me”, Theo sounded agitated now.

“Well i changed my mind”

“That’s not fai-“

“Seriously, Theo, you want to talk about fair ?”

“So what if i told you that I would’ve chosen you over Pansy”, he tells you while throwing his arms around. “You just want to give up like a coward?”, he spits at you, blowing up in anger and disbelief. His widening eyes and clenching jaw told you were enough to convince you that he was full on serious.

Is that what you were doing? Giving up on something genuine? You never thought about it in that way. Sure, your connection to Theo was undeniably strong, but were you ready for actual commitment?

“You don’t get to say that”, you defensively say as you take a step back. He immediately gets in your face again.

With tears forming in your eyes, threatening to spill out, and quivering lips, you try your best to curve your mouth upward and take your last stand.

“I am not giving up. We never had anything to begin with because you were a coward.”

He steps even closer, his nose touching yours. His dead brown eyes looked hauntingly beautiful in the moment. “But don’t you see, I want to give us a try”

“I CAN’T DO THIS THEO”, you yell in his face, not caring that your tears streamed down your face. All that bottled up anger came down to this. “WHAT DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND, THERE IS NO US.” Just as you say that, you frantically tear off his gifted silver bracelet and throw it in his face. “We’re done Theodore” are your last words before storming off.

When you notice him following, you run even faster, yelling “STOP FOLLOWING ME FOR FUCKS SAKE”. Eventually you stop hearing his footsteps, and you allow yourself to break down in an empty corridor. You keep muttering “it’s for the best” as a way of reassurance, but you don’t even know if that’s true anymore.

That night you went to sleep, wanting nothing but to drown out everything. Instead you got a fucking nightmare about the entire events at the astronomy tower. Only, you were watching from the third person point of view this time.

Luckily, as you wake up, you realize that it was a Saturday, so you could be in peace a little longer. Apparently you also woke up pretty late because you were alone in the dorm. Great, your “friends” didn’t even bother pretending to include you. It was always like that. They were nice to your face, but actively excluded you. What was it about you that alienated you from everyone?

*BANG*

HOLY FUCK.

You suddenly jolt up and watch Pansy come through the door. She looked furious and extremely messy. You notice her heavy eye bags and smeared mascara.

“YOU WANT TO TELL ME WHY THE FUCK YOUR BRACELET WAS ON THEOS NIGHTSTAND?!?”, she shouts, probably loud enough for everyone in Gryffindor to hear.

“What are you talking ab-” It was mid sentence when you realize that you in fact threw your bracelet in Theo’s face yesterday and that Pansy recognised it from McGonagall's class.

There was no point in lying. “Pansy please I can explain”, you desperately choke out, feeling a knot in your throat.

“Fuck you. I actually liked you, but i guess you are just another snake”

Before you can actually explain yourself, she already left. All by yourself, you begin to sob. Perhaps your “friends” were right in excluding you. You wouldn’t even want to be friends with yourself.

This mess you were in— what if you never went to that party where you met Theo? But that wasn’t even the most important part. You had to find a way to make it up to Pansy.

Argh this is it…for now ? So if you read the deleted original fic “Baby”, you will recognise the first part, but not the rest. I asked if you wanted a pt.2, but then i realised i could just make all of it into one, longer part. I really really hope you found this if you read “Baby”. And who knows maybe this storyline will continue.

Also thank you for the people who commented, i tagged y’all (except for two i couldn’t find), so you could find this more easily. @onyxwingsandcrowblackdreams @princessofsilverandserpents @pumpkinchee @laur20a23 @ladyblablabla @the-mrs-malik-styles @boomdolle @mmeskywalker

[mysteriaqueen]

Good, right?

Sukuna x Reader Oneshot | Modern/College AU (i guess) | 777 words

Summary: You and Sukuna have been sent to gather the necessary ingredients for some cooking class. And now you're in an empty storage room. By yourselves.

He kissed me. He fucking kissed me.

You throw your arms up awkwardly and freeze. You can feel his lips against yours, warm and gentle. You don’t know how to react. No, you know how to react. You should push him off immediately. There is no universe in which you’d want Ryomen Sukuna kissing you. Except maybe this one.

He pulls back just barely with the most shit-eating grin on his face. So, naturally, you push him away. But what does that mean now?

“Oho, you’re only just now pushing me away. Why? Because now I know you like it?” he asks, smug as hell. “I absolutely did not like that,” you say, rolling your eyes and looking away.

But taking your eyes off him was a mistake. Because now he’s kissing you again, catching you off guard a second time. But this time his hands are on your hips and he presses his chest against yours. He’s warm and that warmth spreads through your body causing your eyes to flutter shut. You barely realize it but he’s kissed you multiple times now. Your awkwardly placed arms have come to rest against his. But once you feel his skin you’ve got enough presence of mind to push him off. And he lets you, stumbling back slightly with a laugh.

Why did I like that????

“What the hell is wrong with you?! God, you’re so weird.” He just rolls his eyes. “I guess you are too.” “What are you talking about?” “You’re over here kissing one of the bullies you claim to despise so much.” “You’re kissing me, and I don’t even like it!” you say with a huff.

He deadpans. “You’re gonna tell me you didn’t like that? After how many times you let me kiss you? With my hands on your waist. I saw how your eyes flutter closed, you know.”

Damn it.

“I was in shock.”

He scoffs. “Yeah, maybe the first time. Just admit it,” he says, stepping closer with the same smirk. “It’s okay if you like it. I’d actually prefer it that way.”

You sigh, closing your eyes (a mistake you haven’t seemed to learn from) and crossing your arms.

“Of course you would, but I don’t mPH-”

Yeah, he’s kissing you. Again. You catch yourself melting the tiniest bit before you pull away. And of course, Sukuna noticed. Your clue for that is that his grin somehow got cockier. Bastard.

“Are you insane?” “Possibly. No more insane than you.” “I don’t go around kissing random people!” “I only do it if I’m gonna enjoy it. And I’m thoroughly enjoying this. As are you,” he says, leaning into you more.

You panic on the inside about how good feels pressing you against the shelves and-

“Back up!”

He obliges. With a smirk, of course.

“You know, repressing your emotions isn’t a good habit to get into.”

You just roll your eyes. You aren’t even trying to, you just want a moment to accept them for yourself. Or reason them away so you can pretend this never happened at all. Is that so wrong?

You sigh, turning towards the exit.

“Listen, I want nothing to do with you. You and your group just get off on terrifying people who are already a little scared of you. Ew.”

You couldn’t hear the quiet footsteps he was taking over your rant. So when his warm body is suddenly right up against your back you gasp. And when he snakes his arm around your waist you stop breathing. And when his chin ends up on your shoulder it takes everything in you not to make an embarrassing noise.

“Wh-” 

You have to cut yourself off because you can barely trust your voice. You can feel his smirk on your neck. You swallow.

“What are you doing?” you whisper. “What does it feel like? Good, right?”

You just about short-circuited after hearing that. Some noise of shock and disapproval came out of your mouth but Sukuna just laughed. After some sort of button-mashing quick-time event in your brain you finally get the presence of mind to try and take control of the situation.

“We’re taking too long. We still have to grab some flour and get back to the demonstration.”

There’s a moment of silence where you’re praying Sukuna will show some mercy. And he does. He actually backs up. Well, of course, he’s laughing the entire time, But a win is a win.

“Fine. I let you off for now. But you know I’m not forgetting about this. It’s only a matter of time until you have to face this again. I’ll make sure of it.”

Masterlist

reblogs and comments appreciated

[princessbrunette]

getting high with jj in his bed and just giggling while he tries to make you laugh and kisses your face with a goofy smirk

you’re all wired up and bubbly whilst you lie your head on jj’s bicep, laid out next to him on his bed. he always made you feel like this, blazed or not — floaty and cared for, cheeks hurting as they push up, smiling hard. the rooms a little foggy still, the blonde only having put out the joint a few minutes prior. it makes everything feel like a dream.

“no, nope, shush.” he grins, hand connected to the arm you lay on wrapping around to cover your mouth which only makes another laugh bubble from your chest and vibrate against his palm. “if you bring that up, i’ll never shut up. you know how hard it is for me to shutup, as it is.” he laughs, nearly cutting himself off to yelp when you lick his hand. “gremlin.” he adds with faux shock.

“but i wanna know, oh go on jj please. you like when i say please, i know you do, pretty please?” you roll over so you’re right in his face, eyes all glazed over, pink and pretty. his grin drops into a lazy smirk, reeling his head back a little slightly so he can get a better look at you, eyes flickering in a triangle to your right eye, your lips and then your left. how could he say no to anything you ask of him right now?

“alright. yes, i do. god.” he chuckles, licking his lips as he drops a little more onto his back, staring at the ceiling in thought. you watch his side profile. “the first time we met?” he reminds himself, lips twitching into a grin again. “nah man, i can’t tell you that shit.”

“jj, i wanna know. im serious, look at me. very serious.” your high brain locks down into focus, concentrating on looking serious. in reality, you just look adorable — lips a little pouted and eyes squinted. he raised an eyebrow, eyes shifting to look at you and he bites down inside his cheeks to stop from laughing in your face. he knows how sensitive you are when you’re high.

“well, in that case.” his hand cups the back of your neck affectionately. you’re already warm there but you don’t mind. “i’ll tell you but,” he winces dramatically. “s’gonna cost ya, pretty girl.”

“dont have any money in my pockets.” you admit shyly, voice a little slow from the way your brain is swirling and swaying very slowly like an untouched lake.

“and i wouldn’t let you give me money anyway.” he fights up onto his elbow, staring you down. “gotta pay me with a kiss.” he proposes and you smile, dopey and happy — lurching forward to do so.

“th’s easy, jayge.” it comes out muffled against his mouth and he chuckled, rolling you onto your back and attacking your face with kisses. “agh!” you squeal, his lips tickling you when he nips beneath your ear. your heart swells at the low chuckle he lets out, pulling back to run a hand through his messy hair, staring down at you elated.

“i didn’t tell you how many kisses. you wanna know my inner most deepest thoughts, the things that ran through this little noggin the first time i saw you. that’s sensitive information, babe. gotta pay up.” he taps the side of his head in gesture, goofy and loveable as ever. you stare up at him, teeth clamped into your bottom lip as if to repress your smile from stretching across your cheeks and breaking skin, scarring you like the joker.

“thats fair.” you muse, the second you realise you’re just staring silently.

“oh you’re damn right it’s fair.” he plays with you, closing in on you to claim his payment.

[lisenberry]

WIP Wednesday Thoughts        

Working title:  There’s smoke seeping out of your bloody teeth (but you’re home somehow)

(From 28 by Zach Bryan)

Recovering Price x Recovering Reader

A/N: I have way too many WIPs at the moment, but this one came out of nowhere and I’m wondering if there’s something more here.

It’s a little darker than my usual, but somehow rides the line of more fluff than angst if you can bear with me through the backstory.  I’m also seeing a trend where I love to paint Price as a complete mess and struggling with himself.  I just know he has some Big Repressed Feelings buried deep in that broad chest.  Like, the Captain takes care of everyone else on missions but needs more help than he lets on in the real world.

CW:  Accidental overdose, Addiction/Recovery, Alcoholics/Narcotics Anonymous, a whiff of PTSD, single parent/recovering addict Reader, written with afab/fem reader in mind, but it came out fairly neutral. Overall heavy subject matter, but with some hope/humor to follow.

John fucked up.  He knows it, Kyle knows it.  And now Kate does, too.

He’d promised his sergeant that he’d lay off the whiskey, but he didn’t tell him about the pills.  The oxys and the benzos.  And sometimes, when things got really bad and he got in a little too deep, the ketamine and fentanyl. 

It was pure luck that Kyle found him.  That he was worried enough to kick the door in, strong enough to pull him out of the bathtub, and quick enough to do CPR until the ambulance arrived with the Narcan. 

He hadn’t meant to end it.  His life, that is.  Just the never-ending pressure in his brain.  The headaches, the sensitivity to light, everything being so bloody fucking loud.  Two decades of explosions, gunshots, and crashes had racked up on him, each one a tithe to be repaid down the line.  And it seemed they’d all come due at once.

In the aftermath, Kate had paid him a visit when he’d been ready to check himself out of the hospital, and she’d given him a directive.  It wasn’t even an ultimatum.  There was no other choice. 

Get help.

She wasn’t kicking him off the team.  She wasn’t even putting a note in his file.  The military wouldn’t know, other than an extended personal leave signed off on by high enough names no one would question it.  A 30-day stay in a doctor-supervised substance abuse treatment facility, and another 60 days at home with weekly check-ins.

Who he told other than Garrick would be up to him.

He agreed, of course.  It was his last chance to get his shit together, maybe even more than he deserved.  The look on Kyle’s face when he regained consciousness would be ingrained on his brain for the rest of his life.

“I always thought it’d be Ghost.  Never you, Captain.”  It wasn’t disappointment that clouded the kid’s eyes with tears, but fear.  That it could happen to any of them if they weren’t careful.  That the danger didn’t end when they came home.

Price hadn’t asked for help, but he knew when to take it.

Which is how he met you...

He tried to attend four to five meetings a week.  They were usually at night, after dark, when the urge to settle into his chair with a bottle of scotch and a few extra Percocets was all he could think about.  When the distractions of the day faded and he was alone with himself. 

If he could hold the urge at bay long enough, in the company of others, even if he just sat and listened, then it would pass like a mad dog thrown a bone.  And then he could go home in peace, until the dog came back around again.

In the beginning, he jumped around to a new meeting each night.  There was St. Stephen’s, St. Giles in the Fields, St. George’s, the Salvation Army, and the Tenant’s Hall.  Some were for beginners, and others just for men.  He didn’t want to become familiar with any particular one, preferring instead to lean on the Anonymous side of the program.

He sipped his tea and ate his biscuits, all from the back row.  Quietly reflecting on the opening speaker, and the stories of hope and struggle that followed.  At first, he found it hard to relate.  Kids who got hooked on drugs in school to escape from abusive parents, or former gang members and dealers looking to buy their way out of poverty and the system that abandoned them.

He’d been born into money, went to good schools.  His demon didn’t come at him until later.  It had taken its time and made roots into an already established foundation.  Like a parasite, it didn’t take him young, or weak.  It took him when he was at his strongest and broke him down from the inside out.  He was already infected long before he saw the signs.

He had no one else to blame, and didn’t think he’d find much sympathy from telling his story.  He didn’t want it, anyway.  He just needed to get through his 60 days and be back on a mission again.

But then one Friday evening, he walked into your regular 7pm meeting in the basement of an old church and everything changed... 

It was the best around, because they had a small children’s area in the next room, with a library and a sweet old nun who would read books and watch the kids for free.  It had become a local favorite for parents without childcare, and the group had grown as close as a family. 

There were a few of you who took the snack duty very seriously.  There were no stale, day-old donuts or flavorless boxed biscuits.  Instead, the spread was enough to rival the set of the Great British Baking Show.  Cakes and puddings, shortbreads and tartes.  The coffee was freshly brewed, not the cheap instant granules.

It had made you very protective, still always a little wary of newcomers, as against the spirit of the program as that was.  It had become your safe space.  Where you brought your children, and shared your biggest regrets and darkest moments.  And mainly because, despite the progress you’d made in your recovery, you’d never fully be able to trust again.  To look at another person and not see a potential threat. 

Outside the church, you knew where the dealers stood waiting to find you on an off day.  Where the pimps lingered in the dark alleys ready to meet you when you were broke and desperate.  They were the obstacles you could see.  Like a video game level you’d failed so many times you could jump and duck and kick your way a little further with each respawn.  You already knew there was a bad guy waiting on the other side of that door and all the tricks to avoid him.

It was harder to tell with the quiet, six-and-a-half-foot tall, bearded man in the beanie hat and combat boots slumped in the back row.  He’d popped up about a week ago, and always arrived exactly five minutes early.  He'd wait patiently until the snack line died down and load his plate before sitting in the same seat, closest to the door.

He hadn’t shared with the group yet, but offered a few pleasant nods and greetings to anyone who’d initiated a conversation.  It seemed rude not to reach out, if for no other reason than to gauge his intentions for yourself.  Was he here because he was serious about his addiction, or was someone forcing him to come?  Some set number of days on his coin before he’d be free from his sentence and never be heard from again.

It didn’t matter, and it wasn’t any of your business.   

But that didn’t stop you from looking over at him a few times during your share, only to find him paying close attention.  His serious features unreadable. Enough to make you stumble on your words and lose your train of thought.  Everyone there knew your story already and could probably recite it for you.  It just helped to recount the good parts, along with the bad.

“Did you make these?” he asked afterward, a rumbling voice breaking through your thoughts as you sat in a folding chair sipping the last of your coffee. 

He held up a half-eaten salted caramel chocolate chip blondie.

“Yes, those are mine,” you answered with what you hoped was a polite smile.

“I thought I saw you bring them last time I was here.  Fucking delicious.”  He popped the rest of it into his mouth, catching the crumbs with his thick dark beard.  “But your hair’s different, isn’t it?” he added, once he’d swallowed his bite.

You reflexively raised a hand to your head, remembering with a laugh the events of your day.  You’d nearly forgotten the fiasco at work a few hours before.

“I work at a training salon.  I let the students experiment on it when there aren’t enough dolls.”  You didn’t have time to fix it before you had to pick up your kids from their afterschool program.

“It’s green.”

“Very green, yes.”  You found yourself smiling again.  Before that, it’d been black with purple tips.  “Who knows what color it will be next time.”  You stood and folded up your chair.

And tried not to read into it as he took it from you promptly and stacked it over with the others.

“Reason enough to come back and find out, then,” he called over his shoulder.

And you didn’t miss when he stopped to grab the last blondie on his way out.

[rainbowchaox]

Purgatory Pissa Masterpost Part 1:

Look guys Missa hasn’t streamed again since day 1 of the event! So I was thinking to make it easier for artists and fic writers to remember canon moments. And I am HAVING thoughts. And feeling the need to yet again be “normal” about my favorite cubitos.

Let’s be honest. Philza was so happy to see Missa was online it was adorable. In Philza POV he practically started the zooming into Missa from the top of the wall. HUSBAND SPOTTED! And the amount of joy between them seeing each other again! THEY MISSED EACH OTHER SO MUCH!!!

Then Missa! Finally got a little brave and practically demanded Philza to give him a HUG. And guys I squealed watching it live. And philza immediately GAVE his husband a hug. And then tubbo immediately was like “are you guys gonna kiss and shit?” And PHILZA broke. Like HMMM why you hesitating why the confusion. Like DO YOU WANNA KISS HIM YOU REPRESSED CROW-

Then we also have to talk about THAT scene. The scene where quite frankly Missa just stared at his husband pecs as Philza canonically flexed- causing Philza to quickly get shy. Missa is so down bad that even I was like “MISSA PLEASE!”. This is the same man in the same stream where he legit called a painting of Philza “papacito” which I learned is like the Spanish version of “daddy”. Which Missa was very judged by his own chat for. It was hilarious. Cubito Missa was a different breed of simping and yearning this stream. I wish I made all of this up, but nope IT HAPPENED CANONICALLY. AND THEY EXPECT ME TO BE NORMAL?!?

But what everyone should focus on the most is when cucurocho said quesadilla island was a paradise. Mr Simpfonia himself immediately agreed because and I quote “Philza is here”. THIS IS BIG! Because EVEN Missa knows the island is horrible. Chayanne is gone for Void Sakes. BUT ITS PARADISE TO MISSA BECAUSE HE LOVES PHILZA- I’m so normal about this dudes. Because even spiderbit can’t say the island is paradise because they met each other on the island, but Missa casually says it like it didn’t rewrite pissa warriors brain chemistry. Something something Philza is comfort and safety to Missa. He loves Philza so much. Truly a bleeding heart with loyalty so strong it’s titanium.

And can we all talk about how Philza when they were separated waved goodbye to Missa when Missa back was turned? Philza doesn’t show affection through words. But by actions. Something something he is already missing Missa. The tsundere crow. JUST ADMIT YOU LOVE HIM-

Also Missa before all of this showing off his aquarium apartment. And casually says “The point is so Philza doesn’t notice so we can stay close to him” BITCH ITS PHILZA AND MISSA FOR A REASON! Did you forget the double bed?!?!!!? Pissa love each other so much it’s slowly becoming a obsession. Not to mention mISSA in general hauntings Philza thoughts (dude checked the map to see Missa when he died-) we get it Philza you love him and are sad you got spilt up. ESPECIALLY BECAUSE YOU NEVER GET TO SEE YOU HUSBAND AND MISS HIM-

Another great moment is when Missa heard his own team mates saw Philza and immediately was possessive and protective DESPITE THEM ACTUALLY BEING ON ENEMY SIDES was like “No don’t hurt my man”. Missa wants his husband to be safe. And nice to know his possessive streak is healthy as ever. Philza is HIS man. I swear Missa we get it- YOU LOVE HIM. THEY MAKE ME CRAZY. And guys it was a experience watching Missa POV. Because he was ignoring all the death and chaos in the chat BUT the moment when Missa saw Philza die his whole face changed expressions. Philza was the only death he reacted too I ain’t lying.

Now for the best part of the stream, Missa causally entered the VC of red team. And I quote “I’m not part of your team but I wanna tell you I love you guys”. PHILZA IMMEDIATELY SAID I LOVE YOU BACK. Of course everyone else was suspicious of Missa being so nice and called him a manipulator while Philza immediately was like “No he wouldn’t do that”. PHILZA TRUSTS MISSA SO MUCH-

LIKE WE UNDERSTAND! You guys are always on each other minds. We were fed so much! And I can’t wait to see what other cute pissa moments we get in the future- I hope you enjoyed my rambling essay. I feel like there should be a masterpost of pissa moments in case anyone needed a refresher! Will make Part 2 once we get more cute pissa moments!

[bogkeep]

when i was a teen, i was in love with my best friend. to this day i cannot tell you with any certainty whether or not i was in love romantically or platonically. i don't know and i don't care. it's very possible there is a difference, but i never found it. i've asked many people about it and everyone has their own definition of where that line goes, none that ever applied to my own experiences. there is no satisfying, universal and objective line. i think that's good, actually. the idea that there is some shining abstract concept that's specialer than all the other concepts that can only be achieved like nirvana by some people and not others is not a comfortable idea. this is not to say that everyone has the same feelings and experiences, absolutely not - but we categorize our experiences within the contexts we exist in. or maybe that's just word salad.

i know that - at the time, i knew i was deeply connected to this other person and kept thinking about her all the time and we talked about wanting to be close friends for our whole lives and wrote poetry together about our soulmateness and we made mutual friends feel like a third wheel. i knew i had no desire to kiss her or take her on dates, and she crushed on some boy at summer camp, but the connection between us was mutual and explicit. if the concept of a queerplatonic relationship had been available to us at the time, maybe we would've recognized it as such. i just knew that what i was feeling didn't match up at all with what i've been told 'being in love' was supposed to be like - especially because, at the time, Being In Love also included sexual attraction. we had just cracked open the 2010's and asexuality was a punchline and a joke.

i know that - during the time i was made to feel ashamed of my aroace identity and the narrative was that i'm actually just repressing my TRUE queer identity, i reframed my memories - i had obviously been in love with my friend Romantically. i was a Real Gay. i was Valid. I Was Sapphic Actually. you can't kick me out of the parade if i had pined for my best friend as a teen!!!!

i know that - once i reclaimed the pride in myself, i reframed the memories again: i had obviously been in love with my friend Platonically, because otherwise i would've been a traitor to the good name of aromanticism. if i knew what it was like to have a crush i would contradict myself. who am i to write about romantic love as if i know? what was i doing at the devil's sacrament?

maybe it is a mystery. maybe i don't know shit. it's hard, actually, to know anything at all when the way my strange brain filters emotions through my body reads so different to the user manual. how can anyone stand to pine for another when it's all anxiety, all day? "butterflies"???? really????? how am i supposed to know anything for sure when my brain's favourite hobby is to pick thoughts apart and run them through the distortion machine on repeat, on repeat, on repeat? i don't know if i've ever loved anyone at all, now that i think about it. maybe i'm an empty shell of a human and everything i do is an act of puppetry and wishful thinking.

i just gotta trust that the love is there, in some form or another. even when i can't reach for it and confirm its existence - let alone deduce a detailed taxonomy. what do you even need that for.

[suzukiblu]

Another excerpt from the next chapter of "think pink", aka "Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it".

"Are you sure about this, Kon?" Tim asks evenly. 

"As sure as I am that you two should come the fuck down here and let me get my hands on you already," Kon replies in a purr, grinning at them both again as he tips his sunglasses back into his hair. "I mean, I can reach you with my TTK, but that never feels quite as . . . personal, you know?" 

They can always talk later, really. 

"Fuck," Tim says, very carefully and very clearly. Then he stalks down the stairs like he's in a cape and Bernard shuts the door and re-rigs the security system and follows after him, and Kon doesn't even get the chance to lean forward before Tim's grabbing his hips and yanking him there. 

Kon is perfectly happy to go. 

"Safeword first, if you have one," Tim says. "Or we can just use traffic lights. Red means stop, yellow means proceed with caution, green means go. Is there anything we definitely shouldn't do or say?" 

Kon leans down and kisses him. 

Like, the other stuff is important and he'll get to it in a second–but getting to kiss Tim of all people is way more important than anything else. 

Tim clearly agrees, since he kisses back. Kon winds his arms around his neck and resists the urge to completely envelope him in his TTK, since that's probably one of those boundary things that they're gonna need to discuss. 

Kon's never actually kissed another guy before, but it doesn't feel as weird as he might've expected it to and frankly he's already finding himself to be pretty impressed with Tim as a first contender. Like, Tim is apparently very good at kissing. He is careful and he is thorough and he is fucking dedicated to the fucking process. He knows exactly how to move his lips and exactly how much to use his tongue and exactly when to bring in his teeth and exactly how to make Kon's entire useless excuse for a brain melt out his goddamn ears with just the tiniest little well-timed nip to his lower lip. It's seriously all Kon can do just to keep up with the bastard. 

Nice, he thinks with a great deal of slightly dizzying feeling, digging his fingers in against Tim's back as they press their bodies closer together and try to eat each other alive. 

Very nice. 

"Okay, wow," Bernard says, watching them intently and sounding a bit impressed himself. "So you two have done this before? Tim, babe, I am hurt that you never previously mentioned making time with Super-boytoy and I demand all the dirty details." 

"We haven't," Tim rasps, pulling back just enough to speak and staring at Kon's mouth as he does. Kon has a weirdly hard time trying to look away from his eyes, so doesn't actually bother to try all that hard to. "Done this before, I mean." 

"Well I very definitely can't tell," Bernard says. "Like, holy shit, you guys." 

Kon is vaguely aware that it's talking time right now, but he just really wants to kiss Tim some more, so he leans forward just a little bit and–

"Tell me your safeword," Tim orders lowly, tightening his grip on Kon's hips. 

"Thirteen," Kon replies reflexively, because he can't ignore that tone of voice from Robin. He doesn't usually do all that much stuff that requires a safeword but, well . . . yeah. Sometimes he does, so he has one. 

Honestly he'd do that kind of stuff a lot more, probably, just . . . 

He just doesn't like doing it with people he doesn't know very well, he guesses. Although that's obviously not gonna be a problem right now. 

There are very, very few people that Kon knows as well as he knows Tim. 

"If you can't speak for some reason but you need to safeword, just tap one of us three times," Tim says. "Got it?" 

"Yeah," Kon says. "What's, uh, your word?" 

"We use 'clique'," Tim says. "Or traffic lights, whichever. And the taps, if we're nonverbal." 

"Okay," Kon says with a careful nod as he files the information away and represses the urge to either lick his lips or just kiss Tim again after all. "Hard no's?" 

"No serious injuries," Tim says. "No humiliation or degradation, no scat or watersports." 

"No choking," Bernard puts in. "And no age play or blindfolds." 

"What about you?" Tim asks while Kon's still processing how quick and matter-of-fact they both just answered that and how weirdly fucking hot it was. Just . . . really weirdly hot, yeah. 

"No, uh . . . no medical shit," he says carefully, not quite flexing his fingers against Tim's back. "Nothing like a lab. Not gonna call anyone any variant of 'Daddy', and don't call me 'kid' or 'pup'." 

"Okay," Tim agrees. "Anything you especially like or want to do?" 

"I dunno," Kon says, then attempts to say "just tell me when I'm doing okay at something" but can't even slightly get the words out. That . . . well. Maybe later he can say that, he thinks to himself. Just–eventually, maybe. "I'm not that fancy, I just want us all to get off and have a good time." 

"Is oral on the table?" Tim asks. 

"Sure?" Kon replies with a shrug. "Although I haven't actually gone down on anyone with a cock before, I don't really know how good at it I'll be. So like . . . yeah, might need a couple tips there when it's my turn." 

"Oh shit, you're like half a virgin, aren't you," Bernard says like it's a realization, and Kon blinks at him in bemusement. 

"Uh, no?" he says, more than a little confused by where the guy got that idea from. "Definitely not a virgin, man, I popped my cherry the first chance I got." 

"No, like–sorry, I just meant you've never sucked cock and you've probably never bottomed before," Bernard clarifies, waving a hand between them. "Although maybe I'm making some assumptions about the kind of girls you've known or what you do in the privacy of your own bedroom, so have you?" 

"Oh, that," Kon realizes himself. "Yeah, no, never gotten pegged or anything like that. Or used any toys that way by myself either." 

"Ngh," Tim says. 

"I now very, very desperately want to change that fact," Bernard says. "Or to watch Tim change that fact. Or both of those things, either subsequently or simultaneously." 

"Would that be okay, Kon?" Tim asks carefully. Kon . . . pauses, and just sort of . . . processes that idea, a bit. Somehow the idea of getting fucked that way hadn't really occurred to him as an option that might be on the table here, even with the way the conversation was just going and also the fact that it should've been an obvious possibility anyway, considering. 

Well, he is kind of stupid sometimes. 

"Uh," Kon says, feeling weirdly hot under the collar as he tries to picture Tim getting up between his thighs like that and not sure if his immediate internal reaction is just him being a fucking horndog and a half or something to blame on the existence of pink kryptonite. "Actually, uh. Yeah. Yes. Please?" 

"Ngh," Tim says, and immediately surges in and yanks him down into another kiss. Kon has absolutely no problems with this turn of events and no desire to do anything but kiss him back. 

"Your fucking suit is too fucking tight," Bernard mutters with absolutely no trace of a complaint in his voice. Kon thinks irrationally of that fond tone the guy had used with Tim before and really wants to hear it again. "I think if we actually get you hard enough to play with your presumably invulnerable dick is gonna tear right through it." 

"That has almost never happened," Kon manages breathlessly, and Tim groans into his mouth.

[elsa-fogen]

brain rot? id say brain freeze haha did u get it /ramble

what will you do if i post winx stuff... my hyperfixation is back after being repressed for 12 years and i can't stop, i'm drawing random shit, making random headcanons, backstories and even some AUs... i even joined the "ask group" thingy as Icy... ironic, GF groups are dead, while winx groups alive as ever

I MEAN... I'LL TRY TO... LIKE... DO STUFF FOR HAZBIN AGAIN... EVENTUALLY...

btw, if new hazbin seasons disappoint me in any way, i'll drop the show =) Winx Club season 5 won't let me lie =) (burn that season in hellfire) the main reason for me refusing to watch the season was the ship i hated =). Viv and her "sad and complicated" makes me nervous... and also other statements from the crew...

(well also i dropped winx because of the ugly costume design for my favorite character and ugly 3d models) (3d models in the movies were so much better >:C (still mad holy fuck it's been 12 years!))

12 years is DAMN HALF OF MY ENTIRE LIFE--

[poppy-metal]

Oof and Patrick finally confronts you one day. Demanding answers.

"Cmon, princess, we fucking live together. The least you can do is bitch me out to my face instead of with your eyes."

"You've always annoyed me, Patrick. You know that." Are you gaslighting him? Maybe. But you barely understand what you're feeling, what are you supposed to say?

"you want to know what I think?" And he doesn't wait for an answer. "I think you're angry at me because it's safe. Youre scared Tash will turn on you again if you ever express your anger at her. And Art has those puppy dog eyes that make him impossible to be mad at anyways."

"Oh yeah, and that night in the bar has nothing to do with it."

"There it is. You're pissed I was picked first." You want to slap him because it sounds so petty when he says it. "But do you really understand why? Because I do."

"Oh, you do?" You snap. "Please, enlighten me."

"Because I'm like a fucking lost dog and they know it. They could've said anything, done anything, and I still would've been there. And as much as you might think youre in the same boat, Tash has never seen you that way." A pregnant pause. "Tash never believed you would actually come back to her. Art always knew I'd come back."

toxic polycule has my heart im gonna bleat like a lamb

hating patrick because his leaving hurt the worst - you could reason why tashi and art did. it was in arts nature to run and repress and tashi had blocked everything out after her injury. it didn't make it okay but it made sense in your head. but patrick - you'd shared your pain with him. you'd shared your body. you thought you might be something someday maybe. later down the line because you were both so reckless and self destructive.

"its whatever, patrick. i get it - we were a distraction for eachother. and now that we're dating them there's really no need for us to interact. i don't give a shit who picked who first -"

"bullshit. it's always fucking stung that they chose eachother over you. and it fucking hurt when you thought they chose me over you too."

you dont want to talk about it. last choice. its what you were, no matter how you spun it. in this love square of four you were at the bottom. they'd be fine without you. you'd agreed to start dating art and tashi tentatively - but you still held yourself at a distance from all of them. you refused to move in. refused to let any of them call you their girlfriend. you had your heart to protect. a relationship of four? it wouldn't last. and you'd be the first on the chopping block.

"sure, patrick." you say. "okay."

its tiring to argue.

he searches your face. his eyes are annoyingly intense, and it feels like he's peeling back your head to look into your brain. unspooling your thoughts.

"i missed you." patrick has the ability to soften his voice in such a way that it makes your heart jerk in your chest. your bite the inside of your cheek until you taste blood. "i thought about you. i think about you. it fucking sucks you won't talk to me."

you close your eyes. you remember a night years ago when his lips had pressed against the back of your neck. holding you after sex - and it was the first time you'd slept together without talking about art or tashi at all. and it felt good. you thought you might be enough for someone, finally. that maybe he saw you and wanted you for you, and not because of the pain you shared.

stupid. he just wants you now because you're close and its convenient. it's more convenient if you're all sleeping together and there's no tension and you're all happy and its all sunshine and rainbows and no one is thinking about when this all will end.

well, you had to be that person. because you refused to be blindsided.

"it was just sex, patrick. we were scratching and itch. you dont need me to scratch it anymore, and i dont need you either. we can be civil, but its not deeper than that between us."

you can see the flash of anger in his eyes at being dismissed. you dont think to process it as pain. you doubt you have the power to hurt patrick zweig at all.

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Simon and touch

Going through my archives makes me think again about how much of a difference there is with Simon before and after realizing his feelings for Baz...

From pretty early on, Penny notes Simon struggles with touch. In this context, it has been noted that "I've only ever been kissed on the lips," it's in contradiction to what comes later, but I think it makes plenty of sense, and perfectly aligns with everything we know about how Simon's mind works, about the things he thinks about and the things he doesn't (Agatha is glaringly not mentioned in the list of things he likes about going to her house, the one place where they would have "alone couple time"), about the way he reframes or entirely suppresses certain things... It's not him who thinks about being kissed on the chest. It's not him who remembers. This is not a situation that has any space in his head, because he doesn't want to. (Agatha doesn't remember this randomly, but in a situation with an unnerved Simon who wants to run, a Simon who's saying "Let's get this over with before I lose my nerve," while feeling strange herself.)

In that sense, kissing on the lips might be the one form of contact that he can do (because he feels like he's supposed to, he brings it up like there's a quota to meet) the one that feels "safe" and less "invasive," because it produces nothing more than noting "another person's spit feels different than my own." It's not appealing, but it's tolerable (whereas Baz's kisses awaken so much that Simon feels like he might be the death of him). All things considered (including Simon's discomfort with even the idea of sex, before Baz, even in his mind he can't say the word), "I've only ever been kissed on the lips" might be something he wishes were true, something he can more safely come to terms with (he might not even remember the details of this happening, anyway, given his issues with touch and dissociation).

I'm rambling here, my point is mostly here: in awtwb and SFC, Simon touches Baz all the time. They have conversations where Simon doesn't have more than two lines of dialogue without kissing or touching Baz in some way. Even in WS, he says "touching Baz is always good," and "I wish there was a way of touching him without being touched." He loves touching Baz. He craves contact with him. ("Feeling untouchable" with Agatha, besides highlighting his issues with neglect and self-esteem in the way he talks about beauty, could be about how he doesn't feel romantic love or sexual feelings for her, how he doesn't want intimacy [his example of sitting beside her it's without touch! he doesn't want to touch her, not like that] about how he "can't be touched" because he can turn off his brain and not process shit and hence not face his fears of intimacy... which is mistaken, of course, look at him being unable to face her actually touching him, repressing that proximity, and how this creates other issues.)

On top of that, I would say Simon's desire to please Baz (and make him happy) can override his issues with touch, as long as Baz is guiding him. The first time they get off together, Baz moves, Baz touches. All while telling Simon to just "kiss me" (to just focus on the one thing he loves doing, on the thing he wants to do all the time... on the thing he does all the time, the second he feels like he's allowed to: touching Baz)

[puffin-smoke]

hi my brain is going a mile a minute right now and the world needs to know so

Here are Puffin's vaguely organised thoughts about Lovely x Treasure :DDD

They've been friends since high-school, they're basically attached at the hip at this point, you can't get one without the other

You invite Treasure somewhere? Lovely is coming for moral support. You invite Lovely somewhere? Treasure is being dragged along.

Lovely is Treasure's scary dog privilege. Habitually threatens to slash the tires of anyone who hurts them. "I just want to talk to them-" "Love, last time you "talked" to someone you ended up in the ICU."

Everyone Treasure dates has to get through Lovely first. It's like meeting your partner's parents. Almost nobody gets their approval

Now, why are they doing all this? Because they have feelings for Treasure, but won't act on them. Lovely has fully resigned themself to the idea that they're not good enough for them, so they're trying to find someone who is. Who can treat them right, who can be what Lovely can't.

Lovely is convinced it would never work out; eventually Treasure would figure out they're too good for them. Where Lovely is brash Treasure is calm and collected. Where Lovely acts without thinking, Treasure never stops thinking. They're convinced it would be oil and water.

MEANWHILE, Treasure has liked Lovely since the day they first met, but thinks that Lovely doesn't feel the same way because they keep trying to set them up with people.

They actually start to think that Lovely already knows about their feelings for them and is trying to let them down the easy way. Which honestly just hurts more than outright rejection.

miscommunication trope my beloved.

requited unrequited love my other beloved

So they both repress their feelings and eventually drift apart.

Until they meet again at the Vampire Summit (the fact that Treasure didn't go originally is a CRIME)

Vincent sat Lovely and Treasure next to each other without knowing they had a past together. Neither of them knew the other would be there, so the reunion was incredibly unexpected

They get to catching up, and Treasure can feel all their old feelings resurfacing the more they learn about who Lovely has become. Vampire Royalty is just their type apparently

Same goes for Lovely, who's missed them for so long. They regret ever letting them drift out of their life but still can't bring themself to tell them how they feel. And also they look hot as shit in their summit outfit.

And then things start going to shit, as the Summit does. Lovely sticks by Treasure's side throughout it, knowing how terrifying this must be for them. They planned to give Porter a talking to as soon as this was all over, and probably a repeat of their famous right rook. At this point they'd firmly decided that he was nowhere near good enough for Treasure. Internally they are keying his car.

Things are going well, as well as can be expected, up until the trial. The verdict is cast and Christopher is beheaded. And Lovely freaks out, immediately reminded of Adam's death.

So Treasure watches the strongest person they know, the person who defended them through thick and thin, who never showed even a sliver of weakness, run from the venue as though they had seen a ghost. And finds them hyperventilating on a bench in the cold.

They run to sit by them and coach them through the panic, holding their hands in theirs.

All Lovely can think about is how warm Treasure is.

When they begin to breath normally again, the pair just sit in silence for a while. Lovely is the first to speak.

"One hell of a party."

Treasure laughs. "The appetisers were pretty damn good."

"So's the company." Lovely smiles, and leans their head on Treasure's shoulder, soaking up their warmth. "I missed you."

In that moment, all Treasure wanted was to kiss them. To grab their chin and press their lips to theirs and steal back all the time they'd wasted. But instead they just lean into the touch as much as they'll let themself, and close their eyes. "Me too."

and that's all for now BYE

[thedarkmistress16]

here's some long-awaited tony food for your thots

(im serious this is 100% PWP done in like, *check watch* 6-8 hrs or so in one sitting- it's all over the place, fam)

let me know immediately if any of you want me to community label this, if that makes you more comfortable. if you want another installment (it will have actual plot i promise) just let me know. None of the used images here are mine, they belong to their respective owners, I only own my garbage writing.

Boyfriend!Steve Rogers x Girlfriend!Experienced!Unfaithful!Reader x Jealous!Yandere!Tony Stark- Repression and Suppression

and here are some messy A03-esque tags for your reading pleasure (srsly read these before continuing or you void your reading warranty):

(Lime, Lemon, G-rape, Cheating, Physical Cheating, Unintentional Cheating, Affair, Noncon, Dubcon, Forced Orgasm, Overstimulation, Fingering, Oral, Vaginal, MxF, PWP, Love Triangle, Jealousy, Third Wheel Tony Stark, Sexual Deviant Tony Stark, Manipulation, Humiliation, Dirty Talk, Swearing, Teasing, Gaslighting, Sexual Coercion, Power Play? Beard Burn, The run of shame?, Lust used as a manipulation tool, Tony blatantly misunderstands words, The horny ruins lives, Reader’s never cheated in her life ong she just misses sex, Tony is all kinds of wrong here, OOC Tony Stark, His dialogue is probably OOC sorry about that, No descriptors besides gender have fun)

...

You don’t know how this happened.

…

Okay, you do know how this happened. You and Tony stumbled upon the same floor in an otherwise empty Tower and you both plopped on the same couch shooting the shit. No paperwork for you to do and no big baddie causing a commotion in New York for the Iron Man to stop. And you may have overshared a tad about the feelings you’ve been having at his prompting about your relationship status, but hey, that’s normal, even for sober people. Everyone needs to vent every once in a while. Or overshare, or both.

What you didn’t expect, however, was your totally innocent sex conversation with Tony to turn into dirty talk. Which, alright- fair, this was Tony you were talking to, so probably not your best moment.

“It’s not like he’ll find out.” Tony’s palm rests on your thigh. “And you said so yourself, he doesn’t give you what you need.”

But thankfully, that’s when your brain started working again, and you actively began to create some space between you, with his hand falling off your leg.

“No, Tony. You know who I’m with and you know he’ll be coming back.”

Tony follows you and- what the fuck? Was this couch always this small? The palm greets your thigh again, more insistent now if the pressure was any indication.

“Can you really wait that long?”

You stare at Tony, incredulous at the turn of events. He wouldn’t- would he?

You see him smile at you before diving in for a kiss.

Wide-eyed, your first reaction is to push him off, but he practically falls on top of you, keeping you pinned there as his tongue goes to work in prying your mouth open.

You struggle, and then, well, he knew how to kiss to get what he wanted, that was for sure. It was so different from what you were used to with him, all chaste and loving. Tony used the flat surface of the appendage to massage your tongue, and- holy fuck you really forgot what good kisses felt like. Tony feels so good- so warm and passionate, that his embrace sends you into a blanketed bliss.

And as you make out, that blanket grows more and more stuffy. You lose track of time, and- well, yourself. The next time you open your eyes, you’re greeted to a shirtless and more disheveled Tony Stark on top of you, kissing down your neck, and humping his bulge against you and- oh fuck your pants were gone.

Okay, this had officially gone too far. Yes, this was hot, and yes your body was awakened from the longest dry spell ever by his kisses, but you had to try and stop this. You had to get Tony to shut this shit down, and then blame your horny self later.

But first, Operation Turn off Tony.

“Wait!” Your hands fly to Tony’s chest, pushing with effort despite wanting to melt into a puddle. “I can’t- you know I can’t-”

Okay, your voice would’ve sounded commanding if Tony hadn’t run his hands under your shirt.

And if his arm wasn’t practically glued to the damn cushions you would've had more leeway to shake him off. And if he wasn’t so stron-

Wait- one arm?

…

…oh my god why is he pushing against you?

“Oh?” It comes out automatically and your body absolutely preens at the sensation before you come back down.

Oh fuck no- now two of his fingers are inside you and you’re not sure if you can even try to hold him off now.

Think of Steve think of Steve think of Steve think of Steve-!

“Tony, mmn-m, pl-”

“Why refuse this?” He pauses to let his fingers talk and the resulting squelching has you trying to seal your mouth in protest. “Why refuse me? When the sweet release you want is right in front of you?” His fingers fall away. “And when this-” he rolls his denim-covered penis over your pussy, eliciting a groan from both of you, “cock is ready and begging to be inside you?”

There is no hope to quell your blushing at this point either, you unhelpfully surmise to yourself. But even so, you don’t let up, forcing yourself to meet his eyes.

“He’ll, ah- find out, hah, Tony.” Fucking hell it was hard to form words now, “and he w-will-”

Tony, more envious than you’ve ever seen him, snarls in retaliation. “Don’t think about him! He’s not the one who’s going to be fucking you tonight.” He takes a moment to regain his composure before adding, “don’t worry, baby. I’ll make you feel so good you can’t stand it.”

“Ton- ah!”He hit a sensitive spot inside you, and your body jolted with the feeling. “P-please...ha...” You pant, trying to control yourself as his fingers retract. Trying to think of Steve instead, and all the other reasons why you shouldn’t be doing this. Why he shouldn’t be doing this to you and how he’s currently making you tingle in too many places.

In mock concern, he inquires, “what is it, baby? I’m right here...” You swear to the highest moon that Tony Stark’s teasing is the worst kind you’ve ever had to experience in your entire life; mainly because he does it in a way that pisses you off to no end.

“I- Tony, I n-need you to-” He shushes you, leaving you more baffled. He doesn’t even know your request yet and he’s already cutting you off. The playboy slides two fingers inside your wet canal and you cry out in surprise. They slip out within the next second, not allowing you to properly process the action. He languidly laps at his fingers and you actually whine at the sight, which is literally the worst reaction you could've had. Tony hums at the taste and his eyes, holding your own, gleam wickedly as you attempt to recover.

“Oh, you need me to fuck you baby? Say no more.”

You gasp, utterly scandalized. How the fuck did he interpret a nothing sentence into that? He’s already working on unzipping his jeans and you’re quick to remedy the situation, despite your breathlessness. “No, Tony, that’s not-” A hand swiftly comes down to palm your sensitive pussy and squeezes, attempting to shut you up with desire. You’re shameful when you realize his tactic worked, as you find it elicits a sexual groan from you strong enough to make your head tilt up towards the ceiling and your back arch off the couch. Tony tuts at your wanton display.

“Don’t deny it, honey. You’re absolutely dripping for cock.” He leans in close to your ear and latches his mouth onto your neck. The man nibbles and suckles enough to probably leave a mark before playfully biting your earlobe and whispering, “and I’m more than willing to provide that relief.” A small part of you finds it ironic he’d use the word willing when you haven’t vocally confirmed it in this case.

When he’s fully sheathed inside you, he sits still for a minute, groaning at the feel of you. Tony then starts circling his hips, not thrusting in the slightest, and at this point you’ve had enough of his games. If he wants to do this so badly then so be it. “No teasing…” you huff unpleasantly.

“Hmm? What was that?” His member is still nudging against the ridges of your vaginal walls, causing your lower body to spasm and tighten at random intervals.

“If you’re going to fuck me then actually fuck me.” You make your voice harsh to get your impatience across, keeping your gaze even. Tony simply winks and wastes no time setting a pace inside you, smirking pleasantly as your body shifts from his thrusts. He licks his lips at the sight of your breasts bouncing underneath your shirt and impatiently forces the fabric up to your neck to squeeze at one. 

You close your eyes and furrow your brows, focusing your efforts on meeting Tony’s thrusts and tightening your pelvic muscles frequently to help his orgasm along. Judging by his strained moans, the fruits of your past lovers' labor seem to be working. He starts to shudder and you beam with pride.

Jackpot.

That is until he yanks himself out of you completely, struggling to hold himself over your body.

“Mngh, hah- baby,” he laughs in between ragged breaths, “let’s not spoil the fun too early, now…”

Tony then switches to playfully dragging his cock along the splayed seam of your lips, right over your spasming hole, and you wouldn’t have been able to hold in that unholy moan if you tried.

He flips you over without a word, leaving you disoriented with an “oof,” as he re-positions you to make your ass hang lewdly in the air. Tony swats one asscheek and your hands scramble to find purchase before he tries something else, which you seldom find in the firm material. Another mocking sound escapes his throat at your reaction and you turn your head to glare at him.

“Could have given a girl a warning, y’know?”

“Well, sweetcheeks, I can’t very well tackle this raging problem unless I approach it from all possible angles~” His eyes rove over your new position admiringly. “And this view is definitely worth the effort.”

He winks at you, smirking all the while. You refuse to react, deadpanning, before giving up. “Fuck you, Stark.”

He says some other comment you don’t care about- on the lines of having patience- when something wet wiggles across your folds-

Your eyes widen. Was this a better advantage point for him to-

His tongue thrusts itself inside your walls and you lose all sense of thought, wanting to collapse into the couch already. Tony’s firm and swift in his movements, pressing the angle of his chin into your mound harshly and rubbing your sensitive areas consistently. The stiff hairs of his beard rub themselves across your clit as he leans forward and you lose all sense of yourself, screaming into the cushioned void and spasming around his mouth.

Your hips lull into a gentle rocking, you realize, when the sensations have dulled. You can still feel Tony between your legs, but licking you much more softly now. Your satisfied mews fall out of your mouth like a gentle stream, and you let yourself bask in the well-overdue afterglow.

Tony slowly parts from your pussy with a smacking sound, and you feel saliva trailing down your thighs as you whine. You hear him say the word “ready” and you hum questionably, not in the mood for words. He leans forward to kiss up your back and make a path for your ear, reiterating himself.

“You ready for me, honey?”

“Mm, you’re not-?”

“-finished? How kind of you to offer, baby. After all, I haven’t finished fucking you into forgetting him yet.”

Your brain almost fits the pieces together, already turning towards him to voice the question when you feel him line up his cock at your entrance. You don’t even bother doing anything other than bracing yourself as Tony thrusts into you, and you realize too late that you’re still too sensitive.

He’s more insistent as he fucks into you, just as his mouth, but he’s humping into all the right places despite your body singing to the point of pain.

“Ahn! O-oh!” At this point, you literally didn’t care that your face was practically being suffocated by the cushions that Tony Stark- your not-boyfriend- was pushing you into and fondling your breasts. You were about to get an orgasm on a dick you haven’t been treated to in months on top of a great orgasm, and it was quickly feeling like it was going to be one of the best ones you’ve ever had.

“Oh, fuck- yes, oh- Tony- fuck-! me!” You manage to scream out over your lack of breath, feeling his thrusts grow frantic. The determined mumbling he’s spouting over your ear becomes noise as your second orgasm crashes over you. Your ears are fuzzy but you can make out Tony proclaiming your name in ecstasy before he plops down on your back, causing your legs to fully give out.

You pant there, lying in sweat and regret, wanting to move just yet but knowing you have a lot of cleanup to do.

Tony shifts first, stroking your hair as he whispers once more, “So, was that a thorough fucking for you baby?”

Despite yourself, you laugh. Whether it was from the now spiraling guilt slowly ebbing away at your brain or that it was from the sudden feeling of loss in how to handle your new infidelity status, you didn’t know. You chalked it up to exhaustion.

Tony mumbles again, but you’re coherent enough to understand his words and nod, calmly lying there as he gets up. 

You waited until the bare ass of Tony left your line of sight before you shot up like a lightning bolt, gathering your clothes and racing toward the elevator in one fluid motion.

You impatiently return to your room to inspect Tony’s damages in front of the floor-to-ceiling mirror, trying to ignore the aftersex glow you still had. Your hands trail over your naked body, taking note of the reddened marks with each twist and turn. Yep, that was definitely a hickey.

They halt on your thighs when you feel a searing pain there and your eyes grow wide, mouth hanging open with a hiss.

Oh fuck. You had beard burn. How the hell were you going to explain that to Steve? Covering them up was one thing- but the itching pain you were going to feel?

The cum inside you suddenly shifts downward and you instinctively clench to hold it in, cringing at yourself. Another man’s mess splattered on the carpet of your and your boyfriend’s room is not what you needed right now.

Biting the inside of your lip, you hurry to the connecting bathroom and wash yourself of the sexual encounter the best you can.

[just-a-random-dead-thing]

~Lost and found~ (Larissa Weems x student!reader)

The reader is 19 in this fic!!! The show makes it clear they have students well above the age of consent.

Sorry for the longer than expected wait! Mocks are a bitch and a half! The reader is a snarky little shit in this chapter btw- The chapters will be getting slightly longer as I get more comfortable with the story but please let me know if you would prefer shorter chapters.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 (1.2k words)

Thank you for all your kind words about the last chapter <3 I hope you continue to enjoy my shitty angst!!!

Lastly thank you once again to @thefangedman for the editing to make the story make any semblance of sense. You should check out their Tiffany Valentine fic! It's amazing!!!

Static takes over my senses. I slowly come round from my near death experience at the hands of my own Headmistress - ‘my duty is to protect all the students within these walls’ my ass. The glaring lights start to bother my shut eyes, begging me to open them and rejoin the living world. I'll give it 5 more minutes. I haven't had a nap like this in years.

Just as I'm getting comfortable, I hear the tapping of heels on a wooden floor, pacing back and forth. From what I can piece together, Weems accidentally impeded my ability to breathe; I passed out and she has dragged me to her office because she's too embarrassed to tell the nursing staff what happened. Hmm... I should have some fun with her. Fake amnesia seems like it'll do the trick. I mentally smirk, thinking over the horrified reaction I'll get to see on her face.

I flutter open my eyes to play into the act of just having awoken. I stare at the ceiling, hearing her rush towards me. "Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, how are you feeling? It appears you... umm, passed out in the corridor."

I turn to face her, sitting up on the leather sofa I'm lying on. I rub my forehead, slightly obscuring my eye as a confused expression crosses my features.

"...I'm sorry but who is Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, and who are you?" Her face, like I thought, is priceless - she even backs away slightly.

Her voice quivers as she talks, an unfamiliar tone in the usually confident woman.

"S-shit...no no no. This can't be happening, I d-didn't. God, what am I going to do-" with this, she grips my face in her hand, the other removing my own from my forehead, grasping it gently as our eyes meeting in perfect alignment. The only difference is her eyes are glazed over with tears that will fall any second, "I am so sorry, Y/N..."

God, this was meant to be fun, but it's just depressing.

I swear, she has an ability to suck all the joy out of anything I do. I roll my eyes at her, but in reality a small part of me feels regret. Regret over my actions, regret over leaving her in this state, but alas, I repress this thought and lean into the anger. I rip my hand out of hers and shove her away from me.

"You're so annoying! I can't even prank you after you nearly murder me without you sucking the joy out of it. Also- thanks for being too scared to take me to see the nursing staff, or even an actual fucking doctor incase God forbid you got into trouble. I could have gotten actual brain damage-"

I am interrupted mid-rant when she embraces me, her face buried in my neck, now fully sobbing. Fuck. Why do I always have to be such a blunt asshole? I need Noah to translate my words into nice ‘feeling protecting’ ones, he's good at all the dumb emotional stuff. Normally I am at least okay at faking, and I can get by, but everything just feels so foggy. No matter how hard I try, I can't concentrate on finding the right words.

I feel awkward as her hot tears sear into my skin like a mark of shame. I bring my hand to her head, undoing her usual pristine hairstyle. I run my hand over her scalp and the nape of her neck, gently scratching her skin. She calms down slowly, relaxing more into me more. My hand slows with her tears, until both cease and we remain there, unmoving for what feels like eternity. Neither one of us knows how to proceed, not wanting to ruin our brief moment of peace and unspoken understanding of what the other needs.

It has to end eventually however, and I am the one to do so, saying words I never thought I'd utter to this woman in my life. Before I can gather what to say three simple words cross my mind, "...I am sorry."

No. I will never apologise to this woman.

Instead I simply remove all venom from my being. I render myself completely vulnerable to her, a spider without its fangs, completely defenceless. "I don't think before I speak. As you know I'm not exactly great at the whole communication thing. So understand, I did not mean to hurt you. I just struggle when taking others emotions into account and instead I chose to be selfish by lashing out at you, it was immature of me."

The air felt thick as I tried to regain my lost stoicism. I feel shame and pity for both of us. I pry her away from my body as I stand, desperately needing to leave, but my legs buckle beneath my weight as everything goes blurry - fuck. I must have hit my head harder than I thought.

Before my body can meet the welcoming ground, I am snatched by a set of strong arms. She turns me to face her once more, before gently setting me on the settee. She turns away from me walking towards her desk as she speaks, her voice still not quite back to it's typical happy/mildly aggressive cadence.

"I had the nurses come to see you here, because I know you don't like the nursing wing of the academy. They said you'd have a mild concussion from hitting your head, and told me to observe you, which is why I didn't put you in your dorm. I know you think of me as being too proud to admit when I am wrong, but I want you to know I will never put my pride before the health of you, or anyone else in this academy."

God, what is wrong with Weems, I think I broke her. She's being too emotional - in the sad way, normally she's just angry. I swear, she speaks exclusively in passive aggressive niceness. I lift my head to properly meet her eyes.

She has taken her seat pride of place behind her desk, having almost the same power behind it as when a queen takes her throne. I begin to verbalise my thoughts.

"Are you on your period? Or are you too old for that... when does menopause start? Oh wait, could it be perimenopause? Oh god, are you pregnant? Can you still even get pregnant?" I become horrified as the last thought even crossed my mind, that poor child.

I notice Weem's equally horrified expression contorting her features, "Mx/Mr/Miss L/N just how old do you think I am exactly? I also don't appreciate the invasive line of questioning, but for your information, no, I am not pregnant."

I shutter slightly feeling her peircing gaze wait for me to answer her. "I want to say, 54...?" Oh God, she looks like she's about to slap me. "54! I beg your pardon, Mx/Mr/Miss L/N, I am 44, and I do not appreciate you aging me a decade! I should give you an extra detention for this alone."

I look at her, wondering if she has been seriously affected by my words, merely her vanity showing as per usual, or if this is her failed attempt trying to be more humorous while scolding me. I run my hand through my hair and let it fall over my eyes.

"I don't give a shit how old you are! You still cried like a baby either way, get over yourself, you're not 2. So what? You nearly murdered someone, we've all been there. You aren't special, so don't expect sympathy from me!"

Weems stands once and strides towards me. I am not interested in her lectures about manners and etiquette, so I leave quickly through the nearest set of doors and out into the corridor, taking a sharp right into the closest room to me.

Grabbing the chair beside me, I barricade the door, allowing myself to slide down it and contemplate all that's happened thus far, while also figuring out an excuse. I look around the room, only now realising I've locked myself within Weems' bedroom.

"Shit."

================tags================

@the-bagel24, @suckerforcate

[strayflowersstarsandlove]

Horror nights (hanjisung)

PART 2

Something in him must have clicked so strongly in seeing you so emotionally invested cause he starts to press little fluttery kisses on your cheek every now and then, this probably being his way to reassure you and comfort you the best he can. And it's making you loosing it all over again.

You two were no strangers to cheek kisses, he loved giving and receiving kisses so this was usual for the both of you but lately it had been impacting you so differently you tried to keep your giving share to the the bare minimum and right this moment you were just so grateful the room was dark cause you knew you were as red as a tomato and you were definitely sweating a little too from all the internal commotion you were experiencing.

You feel his lips attaching to your skin once more, his breath ventilating your face, and your heartbeat, that had only just recently slowed down, now wildly picking up pace again. "Your skin is warm", he hums, so softly you barely catch his words, he's leaning in at another angle as you turn your head in a split second and he kisses your cheek again, so close to the corner of your mouth your brain goes blank.

And then his lips are on yours. You shiver. You physically tremble as you feel his hand reaching up to your face and cupping your cheek, his mouth parting just as you do the same. It's so so quick but intense your head starts spinning a little. Next thing you know you're both staring at each other with wide eyes and ear to ear smiles, the movie completely forgotten, everyone around you completely vanished from your pheriphery.

Han chuckles, his chest heaving as his pretty pretty eyes look into yours so intently, "I- I can't believe you just let me do that?!", he half whispers, "was I not supposed to?", you reply in gleeful disbelief, "are you serious right now? Do you know how fucking long I've wanted to do that for?", you blink in utter shock, a goofy smile etching on your lips just long enough for him to kiss it off your face again, smiling himself into the kiss, "shit",he giggles, and you try to shush him by flattening your hand right on his mouth, repressing your own giggles, trying to keep yourself together from the happiness that's just about to make you burst out of your skin, "date me? Please date me", he asks, though his question comes out as more of a statement to which you can only enthusiastically nod.

"SHE SAID YES" Han suddenly shouts, making everyone around you turn to you with either annoyed or shocked expressions on their faces, Jeongin and Chan looking startled as they jolt awake, "SHE SAID YES TO GOING ON A DATE WITH ME. PROBABLY MULTIPLE DATES. TO BEING MY FUTURE GIRLFRIEND IF GOODNESS ALLOWS", he shouts once again, leaping from the couch and standing in the middle of the room, dancing and bowing to everyone cheering and shouting, "yeeeeeah", "FINALLY" - "took you guys long enough!", "YOU GO HAN-AH, "oh thank fuck you'll finally get a room from now on".