#this wouldn't leave my head I am ashamed to admit

[scottsummersgal]

She said do you love me i tell her toNIGHT is the NAIIGHT ...of nights

[savannahsdeath]

hii i love ur stories, and i was wondering if you could do a one-shot where ellie won't admit it, but she LOVES being a sub and just listening to you 🫣

SUB!TOP!ELLIE WILLIAMS X READER

mdni please<3

warnings: 18+!! sub!top!ellie, oblivious!reader, making out, a liiiitttleee of thigh reading, js smut

writers note: im a sucker for dom!ellie but my first req was sub!ellie and now it just has a separate place in my brain.. yeah, i need both. switch!ellie lover i guess💪💪 also this ones sub!top!ellie because im soooo in love w her like awshhzhsv

you always saw ellie as the firm, rough and confident one. as the 'don't tell me what to do' one. and definitely the straight-forward one. you wouldn't even think it's the complete otherwise, especially not while grinding on her lap. your lips were connected for a few minutes now, and everytime you pulled away to catch your breath a line of saliva built a bridge between you. you were needy, ellie desperate and the whole situation really messy. quite a combo.

"ellie..." you whined after freeing your tongue.

she pulled you back into her, holding onto the back of your neck. "what is it, doll?"

"mhh-" a week sound escaped your mouth, as you struggled to calm down and not act as if you just ran a marathon (because you didn't, of course, but that's how you felt). "touch me..."

you didn't realize she kept her hands only on your head because she was shy. you never thought she could be shy at all. your request, though, awakened something in her. she hungrily slid her slim fingers beneath your shirt, where they rubbed soothing shapes into your skin.

"like that?" she laughed, or at least you guessed she did, because the sensations made it hard for you to tell.

your answer was a one word, but a keyword. "more."

with that, her hands unfastened your bra and threw it somewhere on the ground. she turned you around, making you lean your back on her chest. your shirt covered the scene - her playing with your hard nipples, that didn't feel so sensitive until now. her hair fell on your face, slightly covering it, as she bowed her head to kiss your neck. your pussy sent a needy impulse through the rest of your body, signaling you this is what you needed, before the pulsating changed it's message to a 'not enough'. ellie seemed to notice it, and one of her hands untied the knot of your cute pyjama-shorts. the elastic at your hips widened to make room for her hand, and it carefully slipped underneath the waistband, though stayed on top of your underwear. she followed the wet path with her middle finger, arriving to it's source. she didn't put any pressure onto your body, leaving you unsatisfied.

"please- please, do it." you nodded, fighting the urge to press her hand towards you.

she was more than happy to do it, her hand avoiding now also your panties and making contact with your bare body. you shuddered at the coldness she brought with her, but things quickly got heated.

your head found support in her shoulder, resting on it, as her pointing finger rubbed your clit and the next two lazily waited at your entrance, collecting everything that came out of it.

"do you want me to do it?" she asked. it wasn't the taunting, teasing, playful tone. it was a concerned, shy and hesitating one. one you weren't used to hear from her.

you frowned, wiping your wet, drooled mouth with the palm of your hand. "are you... really asking me that?" you wanted to add '...or am i dreaming?' but that was too much for you now, and your throat refused to work.

"i only want to do things you want me to do." she whispered, sounding almost ashamed about admitting that.

she continued the trail of sappy little kissed on your neck, somewhere where the vocal cords are, and you thought that's the main reason they're not working.

you couldn't hide your surprise but stayed quiet, though not really by choice. she thanked god you couldn't feel her own wet spot, which was probably bigger than yours and still growing each time you asked her to do something for you. even if your commands weren't out of your dominance, even if you had no idea how they turn her on, she only waited for you to ask for more, or less, anything would satisfy her, as long as she can satisfy you.

[gingiesworld]

Obsessions (4/?)

Wanda Maximoff x Rogers Fem Reader

Warnings: Angst. Smut.

Taglist: @sytoran @ginnsbaker @lifespectator @gb12d @natashamaximoff-69 @wizardofstories

18+ MINORS DNI

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 5 / Part 6

Y/N

I know this is completely stupid of me to write this apology instead of saying it to your face, but I hate who I am, who I've become. I broke my promise to you, many promises, silent and spoken. Hell, I don't even know who I am anymore. I have become someone who I don't even recognise because I wanted to be a part of the in crowd. I guess I was lying to myself and everyone and you especially.

I love you Y/N. I guess on some level I have always known about my feelings for you and I was scared. I didn't know how everyone would see me so I guess I projected my insecurities onto you and I can't say sorry enough. But I guess this is a start, along with leaving NYU. I don't know what I will do, but I just want to leave you be. I guess maybe one day we can be friends again. Just maybe.

Wanda Maximoff

Y/N read over the words on the page over and over again, she couldn't believe that Wanda was too much of a coward to not 9apologise face to face. So Y/N decided to march over to the Maximoff residence, knocking abruptly. Only waiting a brief moment until Wanda opened the door.

"Why?" Y/N questioned as she held the letter in her hand. "Why couldn't you just say all of that to my face?"

"I was ashamed." Wanda answered her weakly. "I abandoned you and I am still ashamed of all of the pain and hurt I have caused."

"I don't want your self pity Wanda." Y/N sneered as they pushed her up against the wall, Wanda held in a sigh at the close proximity. "I am done with this whole facade, if you loved me like you wrote, you wouldn't have made my life a living hell in high school."

"I know." She whispered, guilt and disappointment in her eyes as she closed them slightly. Allowing a sigh to escape her as Y/N rested their head on hers.

"I needed my friend Wanda. My best friend and she abandoned me when I needed her the most." Y/N whispered as her nose brushed Wanda's. "I need you Wanda." Wanda sighed as she felt Y/N's hand on her hips. "Is it just you here?" Wanda only nodded before Y/N kissed her roughly. Her tongue pushing passed Wanda's lips, causing her to let out a shaky moan. Y/N had let go of the letter as they lifted Wanda up and led her to her bedroom. Ridding her of her clothes and leaving her bare and vulnerable.

"I am going to ruin you." Y/N snarled as she hovered over her, taking her ear between her teeth before she squeezed Wanda's breast harshly, pinching and pulling at her nipple as she sucked and bit the other. Wanda's moans filled the room as Y/N soon slammed her fingers into Wanda's gaping hole. She let out a loud whimper as Y/N thrusted at a fast pace, Wanda's hands gripping the sheets tightly as she could feel herself reaching the edge.

"Why?" She whined when Y/N pulled her fingers away.

"Have you cum since the last time I edged you?" Y/N questioned as Wanda shook her head.

"Nothing could do it for me." Wanda admitted breathlessly. "No one else could do it for me."

"Beg for it." Y/N sneered as Wanda looked to the side. "Beg to cum." Y/N gripped Wanda's jaw, forcing her to look at her. "Beg."

"Please. I need it. I need you Y/N." Wanda pleaded as Y/N smirked, her other finger brushing along the inside of her thigh. "Please make me cum. Please."

Wanda was soon unexpectedly full as Y/N slammed three fingers in her soaked and aching core. Her body arching as Y/N added another finger, curling her fingers and grazing her g spot.

"Cum." Y/N ordered before Wanda fell over the edge, squirting all over her bed as Y/N kept on rubbing her clit. Mesmerised by the face of euphoric pleasure on Wanda's face.

That was the start of it, Y/N would take Wanda in the restroom at the diner, her own bed, even as her family was home. Y/N was driving around in her car when she came across Wanda who was walking home.

"Get in." Y/N told her as she pulled up beside her, Wanda had done as she was told and got in the passenger seat. Watching as Y/N drove in silence. Harshly squeezing Wanda's thigh as she drove to the overlook, the place where everyone goes to have sex or get high.

"Why are we here?" Wanda questioned as Y/N undone her leather jacket.

"Strip." Y/N ordered her as she removed her own clothes. Wanda moaned as she felt Y/N's hand between her bare thighs, their clothes scattered along the backseat as Wanda rode Y/N.

"I need more." Wanda whimpered as Y/N smirked.

"Work for it." Y/N sneered as she moved forward to bite her nipple, causing Wanda to inhale sharply. "Make yourself cum all over my cock." Wanda whimpered as Y/N's hands snaked her waist, subconsciously helping her movements.

"Fuck." Wanda bit her lip harshly as Y/N met her thrusts, enjoying the view of Wanda's breasts bouncing up and down as she reached her own high. Collapsing on Y/N who was fast enough to move her from their lap and back into the passenger seat. Wanda watched as Y/N got dressed again before handing Wanda her own clothes.

"What does this mean for us?" Wanda questioned as Y/N sucked in air through her teeth as she started the car.

"It means nothing to us." Y/N told her firmly. "There is no us."

"I'm seeing a therapist." Wanda told her confidently. "I'm trying to get myself better for you. For us."

"It's too fucking late Wanda!!" Y/N yelled as they remained at the overlook. "You abandoned me. You made my life hell. You left me to be the popular girl you have always craved to be. Wanting to hang with the fakes and the jocks while I was the one who made you feel welcome when you moved here."

"I'm sorry." Wanda whispered as Y/N started to drive.

"It's too little too late now Wanda." Y/N spat as she drove her home, the rest of the journey was spent in silence before Y/N had pulled up. "Go home Wanda. It's done. Whatever this is."

Wanda only nodded as she left the car, heading inside as her eyes stung with unshed tears. As the weeks went by, she noticed that Peggy was packing up the house, Y/N was helping with moving her own things into the Impala as Peggy had a sad look on her face. That was the last she saw of Y/N and Peggy in person. Only hearing from her mom that Peggy had moved back to England. Which left Y/N to move into her own apartment, only 30 minutes away from NYU.

Wanda found herself following Y/N on instagram, making a fake account as she looked at most of the pictures Y/N had posted. A lot of them seemed to be pictures of her art work, but one that really played on Wanda's heart strings, was Y/N and Christine Palmer, kissing as Y/N wrapped her arms around the red heads waist. The caption below reads, '6 month anniversary. I couldn't be happier and I can't wait to spend many more months and years with you.'

Wanda's heart broke, looking through other pictures of the two, seeing them smile lovingly at each other. Even a selfie as the two lay in bed, the covers only covering just above their bare chests.

Wanda knew in that moment that she had lost her chance with Y/N, but she refused to let her go.

[gold-snek-hoe]

Hello and welcome to Opinions from an Internet Nobody. Today's essay:

"Ger therapy" is the new "You need Jesus": One Weirdo's Navigation through Cultural Shame

This is a supposedly well-meaning sentiment that is often weaponized against people who are behaving outside of perceived cultural norms. It's a favorite of homophobes who see queerness/transness as a mental illness, but I've been seeing it used to demonize kink (which historically is often linked to queerness), and more generally any "weird" behavior that makes people uncomfortable.

For example, otherkin, systems (especially those with fictives), and people who take fictional characters as partners. Y'know, "weirdos" who "can't separate reality from fiction." And, sure, sometimes there can be a problem with that distinction, but I know as well as you that most internet strangers saying "get therapy" don't actually give a shit about the mental health of those they target. It's code for "your behavior makes me uncomfortable, stop it."

Same sentiment as "you need Jesus."

This has actually taken me a long time to figure out. I've been in therapy for my entire adult life, working through various traumas, severe depression, anxiety, all that. Those were the biggest problems as they negatively impacted, and often endangered, my life. It was only after my hospitalization in 2020, where I was finally put on much needed medication, that I could start to grow into myself.

I changed my name. I top surgery. I came out as polyamorous. I finally got my official autism diagnosis. Now I'm fuckin' married! But... there are still things I'm working through in therapy. Mainly, shame over my "weirder" behaviors. My current therapist has been a huge blessing in helping me accept the things I was too ashamed to admit.

Now, I feel comfortable enough to share.

I'm otherkin. Always have been. My connection to my humanity is tenuous, and I'm sure that's connected to my autism. When mad, I feel phantom horns sprouting from my forehead. I have a tail that swishes back and forth at the base of my spine. In my soul, I am monstrous, and years of therapy has not erased that.

I feel like I'm only half in the physical world most of the time. This doesn't hinder my real-world success (I graduated college Summa Cum Laude, have an IMDB page, and am on my third book), but informs the way I look at the world. There's a whole other universe in my head that hums along with me in my day-to-day. That's part of why I'm so skilled as a writer. To ask me to divorce from that is to tell me to stop existing. Sorry, it's how I've always operated.

Lastly, and this is the one I'm really anxious about, I have a fictional husband. Now, looking at my blog, you might say "yeah, no shit," but I don't just ship myself with him. I mean I practice pop-culture Witchcraft, and the Goblin King is my patron. I mean I have a Labyrinth-themed tarot deck that I talk to him with. I mean I held a ritual to spiritually marry him. Basically, I Snape-wived myself.

And guess what? My therapist isn't concerned. It's not hurting my ability to live my life. I have other interests, hobbies, and goals outside of him, which he actively encourages in all our tarot sessions! I wouldn't be doing this if he didn't support me. My IRL spouse is usually there for whatever magical shit I'm doing, and supports me! Some of my closest friends know, and the only complaint I've gotten is "this guy seems important to you, I wish you told me sooner." Hell, my MOTHER knows and supports me, which is huge, because our relationship was pretty damaged after I came out as trans.

If you have a problem with the way I live my life, when literally nobody else does, take a good long look at why. You don't give a fuck about my mental health. You just don't like that I'm weird.

Tl;dr: My mental health is better than it's ever been since embracing the weird, so leave me and my imaginary husband Marak Sixfinger alone.

[fartcushion]

Lockdown Bubble - Part 2

The next day I came downstairs before Antony and made breakfast, sittng at the table with my back to the counters and munching away as he walked in. "Morning" he said cheerfully, and I waved a response while swallowing a mouthful of cereal.

"Morning, got anything planned today?", and took in another bite.

"Not really. Weekends aren't the same during lockdown. Day in front of the TV again I guess" he replied busying himself behind my head making his own breakfast. As he bent down to get the milk he let out a short fart. "Oh excuse me! That just slipped out".

Desperately trying to swallow the cereal before I retched it out from the smell, I leaned as far away as I could get. "Oh man, not another one, why do your farts smell so bad?"

"My diet isn't that great" Antony shrugged, then gave his belly a jovial wobble as if to emphasize the point. "If you think my farts are bad, just wait until I've done one of those home work out vids. Now they build up a sweat"

"I'll stay clear of that then until you shower!"

"Who knows, might be something else you learn to love. Like my farts", and that devilish grin returned.

I turned around to deny that I would never, but realised too late the huge mistake it was. Antony had purposely bent forward on the counter with his ass aimed directly at my head in hope his bait would work. As I turned to face him he released another quick airy fart right at me.

Ppfftt

Antony was beside himself laughing. In disgust I shot out the chair to wash my face in the sink. "Omg, so gross!"

"Aww I'm sorry, I was just having a laugh. Didn't mean to get you right in the face. Good job your mouth was closed ay, otherwise you'd have been swallowing last night's dinner again". He chuckled as he sat and ate his breakfast.

I finished drying myself and sat back to finish breakfast. "I'm beginning to think you have a thing for farts the way you keep subjecting me to then"

Antony chewed in thoughtful silence for a moment before responding, "nah, not the farting itself. I just aren't bothered by them like you are. But what I do like is humiliation, subjecting others to it. Like some people love having their feet worshipped, I don't care about it particularly, but if a guy hates feet then that's what I want them doing. I get off on that power". I was stunned by the honesty.

"That being said I am also very good at figuring out what someone truly desires. So either my farts will be a good punishment for you, or they'll be something you secretly crave". And he carried on eating as if he hadn't just dropped a bombshell.

"I can guarantee that I do not want your farts, they're certainly not my thing. And I'm not a big fan of feet either come to that matter"

Again Antony smirked while finishing his cereal. "Dont worry, we will only be vanilla then if that's what you want. I just thought last night you said you would be an obedient slave"

I felt oddly insulted. Was I vanilla? Surely there was a large gap between just wanting to suck a cock or sit on a dick, and having to be subjected to Antony's gaseous assaults. And I was ashamed to admit it, but every time he called me a slave I could feel my dick start to throb. Maybe I could help satisfy his need to dominate without going too far.

"I'm not vanilla! Just maybe you're a lot more experienced than me. I want to please, sir". I paused while giving an innocent doll eyed look, "but maybe, don't be too mean?"

"Of course not, wouldn't want you leaving here. And as a show of good will, how about you suck my cock?" Antony offered.

I felt relieved. It was stupid, but I didn't want to be boring and we'd both said how much fun being a bubble with benefits would be so I didn't want to look like I was bailing on it.

I pushed my chair out and slid under the table. Antony opened his legs so I could get at his crotch. He was wearing the same boxers as yesterday having not changed. The smell of the sweat from the night's sleep and a bit of dried cum was noticeable. Again I didn't want to be a buzz kill so without I protest pulled his fat cock out of the flap. Once in my mouth it started to harden and I began to work it.

Antony leaned back looking under the table at me slobbering on his cock. "Oh damn that feels good. Though I forgot to warn you that I needed a piss..."

My eyes must have shot open in terror. But before I could pull away Antony had slid his large hand to the back of my head and I felt a hard grip hold me in place.

"...I'm kidding! Would I do that to you? Keep sucking on that cock bitch, don't you dare stop when it feels this good"

The grip didn't let off but I felt reassured enough to carry on. Humiliation was one thing, but he wouldn't force me drink his piss surely.  His hand forced me down so the cock was slamming the back of my throat, and he began convulsing in the chair as he came. I swallowed quickly as he held me there for a minute before letting him go, making sure I got every drop.

"Ah, what a way to start the day. Think you can manage that as your new morning routine?"

I scrambled up off the floor. "Erm, yeh I guess, might be in a rush for work if you're not up early enough".

"Ah don't worry, I've got an idea for that". Without further comment on the matter he went to watch TV. I stood there for a moment. Unsure what to make of the morning. I was also sad that I'd not been given chance to come. I did consider excusing myself to go have a wank. But thought best save it. If I didn't want to look frigid, or vanilla, I'd want to stay horny. But how hard could it be to please Antony's needs?

[faghubby]

Giving in to my desire

Me and my best friend Pete where sitting close to each other we had done this since we where in middle school. Now home for the first time since college we again found ourselves in my basement watching old points as we jerked each other off. Pete stopped moving his hand at one point and I didn't care. I swirled my hand and teased his balls. He shot his load all over his stomach. The difference this time was I leaned in and licked his stomach.

"What the fuck?" Even said surprised. I just licked up all his cum even off the tip of his dick.

"I am not doing that" Even told me, he no longer even jerked me off.

"I know, I just wondered what you tasted like" I told him

"Have you done that before?" He asked.

"Just my own" I admitted feeling ashamed for it. I looked at him for a second then licked his soft cock again taking it in my mouth.

"Paul, I'm not gay" he moaned his hand grabbing my hair but not pulling me away. he grew hard again in my mouth.

"That feels fucking amazing" he moaned. We where both virgins. I didn't want to stop even after my jaw started to hurt. I tried different things trying to take more of his cock like in all the old porno we had watched. Gagging over and over again. Suddenly Evan pulled my hair lifting me off his cock.

"Listen you want to be a fucking fag and suck my dick fine but you better stop trying to hump my leg" he told me. I had not even realized I had done that. I repositioned getting on my knees and took him back in my mouth. He seemed to just lean back and relax as I sucked him again. After another 15 minutes or so he grabbed my head with both hands as he pumped his load into my mouth. He was grunting loud I was afraid my mom would hear him. I couldn't swallow fast enough he let me go and shot the rest all over my face. I just smiled up at him. He quickly pulled his pants back up. And made an excuse to leave. I was afraid he might say something but then again he had never mentioned our little masterbating times together.

I went into the laundry room. Right there in the basement and cleaned up in the sink. I saw my mom had a pair of her panties soaking. From a stain or something. I'm not gay I thought. But I wanted to suck Pete again. Still horny as he'll not having cum after being so close. Maybe I was a woman? Thennit wouldn't be gay. Mom had several other pairs of panties and bras hanging up. Most where plain simple cotton in pastel colors. But one pair was white lace. They looked so femine. I tool them and stripped sliding them on. Then getting dressed again. They where very tight. My erection sticking out of the waist band.i suddenly had a thought, would Evam fuck me? What did it feel like? I

ed the feel of my mom's panties, the softness, the tightness. I tried to go about the rest of my day wearing them. I loved being so excited I wanted to jerk off. But also didn't want to wanted this felling to continue. Over the next two weeks I sucked Pete off everyday. I also wore my mother's panties, all the time. I had found she had a whole drawer full of "sexy things" she must wear for my father. It made me think if my mom sucked my Dad's cock? What positions they fucked in? Had mom ever experienced anal? I also found a wand vibrator in her drawer but was to freaked out to even touch it. Soon it was time to head back to school. I packed. I took two pairs of mom's panties the white pair I had worn that first time and a pink thong. That was way to small but made me feel so hot. Mom and Dad drove me back to school three hours away. Mom went as far as to "properly clean my dorm room" I just let her do it knowing it was her way. She worried I might get sick or something. She even cleaned my roommates side of the room. I didn't think about it till she went to put my clothes away. She must of seen the flash of pink. I saw as she cupped the tiny panties up in her hand before my Dad saw. Then sent my father on some errand.

"Paul?" She said. Showing me what was in her hand. I blushed a deep red.

"Well I guess they go in your underwear drawer" she smiled. "It's okay" my mother assured me. She finished up the room and insisted on taking me to dinner. Nothing fancy a buffet style place. My mother came right uo behind me as I scooped up a big scoop of Mac and cheese.

"Should watch your figure" my mother said with a smile. Switching her plate with mine. Her plate had a big salad on it. I blushed again and went and sat. My father looked at me odd as I ate my plate as he stuffed steak and potatoes in his mouth. After dinner my parents headed home. Now mom checked in usually every week. So when she called the next day I was surprised.

"Paul, would you like to talk?" She asked me.

"Sure mom, what's on your mind?" I replied

"Little pink panties" she said you could almost hear the smile thru the phone.

"Well, I um" I started

"Do you wear them often? Do you have a favorite color? Style? Would you like some more?" She rapid fired.

"Yes!" I said excited.

"Yes to what?" My mother asked.

"I only tried on a few pairs" I stated.

"Just mine?" She asked.

"Yes, I am sorry" I started

"It's okay, all GIRLS come to an age where they try new things, sexy things" my mother stated. Had she just called me a girl?

"Have you tried it her things?" She asked I was scared to mention Evan. When she added. "Make up? Or even a dress?" She asked. I was excited as I talked to my mom. I explained it was all recent only the past two weeks. I am not sure she believed me. And in truth when I was younger, first time I "helped" Evan I had tried on a dress and shoes. But no more. We had a the longest talk I could ever remember having with her. Afterwards I went and changed into panties. Walking around campus. And attending classes all while wearing panties was exciting. A secret no one knew about.i was careful to change before I went to bed so no chance my roommate would see. The next morning just before lunch my mother called me again.

"I am headed to your dorm" she said excitedly

"You're here?" I asked

"Yes now come let me in" my mother sang. I went down to let her in she had two huge bags with her. I grabbed them as we headed to my room.

"Where's Kevin?" She asked. As we entered the room. Speaking about my roommate.

"He has a class" I responded

"Good, I got you somethings" my mom stated excitedly as she started to pull things from the bag. "Just a few things, but thought I could take you shopping if you like?" she said as if afraid of what I might say.

She pulled out a makeup mirror and then lipstick.

"Not sure how much you want to wear, I mean like a Tom boy, or girlie girl" she giggled. I watched as she pulled out a ton of things I did not even know what they where neverless how to use them.

"Don't worry, I will teach you and if you don't want to that's okay as well. I just. Well I always wanted a daughter." Then as if a light went on.

"OH I never thought, I mean does anyone know? Do you want them too?" She asked as she looked at Kevin's bed.

"Only Evan" I told her. Not wanting to just came out.

"I see" she smiled. I blushed as she had guessed.

"Mom, this is great and all but I don't know" I started she smiled.

"Of course, I am sorry I got so swept up in it all" she told me. We hugged and I hid the makeup along with hair removal cream and pink razors. Blow dryer, curling iron all In my trunk. Mom took me to lunch.

"So Evan?" She smiled as we got our food.

"It's not like that" I told her again blushing. After lunch we wondered around before she had to head back home.

"Okay, now you can use this to buy online if you don't want to go to the store" my mother said handing me a Victoria Secret gift card. She then did something that shocked me. She pulled at the front of my pants. And smiled when she saw the flash of white lace from my panties.

"Mom!" I said totally embarrassed. She just smiled. Then pulled out lipstick from her purse and applied it to my lips right there on the street. I almost came in my pants as I tasted the light pink lipstick.

I was so mortified but also more excited then I had ever been in my life. My mother sensed this and led me straight into a woman's clothing store she looked at me for a second and picked out a simple yellow dress. She led me to the changing room. The clerk a woman of about 50 gave a smile as my mother asked if I could try it on. I didn't argue just went into the changing room and put it on. My mother didn't make me come out to show her. Instead opening the door to peek in to make sure it fit.

"Want ro wear it out of the store?" My mother asked. I just nodded no. She left me to get changed. I was so embarrassed and so happy at the same time. As we headed back to my dorm room.

"Mom, have you ever? I mean. Well anal does it really hurt?" I asked. I felt like I could ask her anything.

"Yes, it does the first time. I think it's more your partner" my mother explained. We talked about sex, something my father and I never has. As she dropped me off

"Paul, in those bags there is one more thing that might help you with your backdoor question" my mother said now she was the one embarrassed. I kissed my mother goodbye.

To be continued.....

[monsterswithimagines]

Undisclosed Desires - Part 6

Joe Goldberg x female!Reader

Summary: Twenty minutes before he would have met Guinevere Beck, Joe meets you instead. You intruige him, but it will soon become clear that there is something off about you.

Words: 845

Masterlist

Saturday can't come soon enough. I feel like this week has lasted an entire year.

Then it's finally Saturday morning. I'm happy to go to work today, because at the end of the morning shift, you'll be waiting for me. My reward for my work. You won't even mind that I won't have time to change out of my usual clothes - it's a deliberate choice on my end, because you like how I look. You told Nadia about it on Twitter just three days ago.

@MoonShadow_: waarom zijn jongens in boekwinkels altijd zo lekker 😭😭

Which translates to: why are boys in bookstores always so hot

I didn’t realize you were thinking this way, (Y/n). If I'd known, maybe I would have made a move already.

Candace wasn't nearly this hard to read.

Candace wouldn't have been worth all this waiting, though.

I'm not ashamed to admit that Candace was a wrong choice. I thought I saw something in her that wanted to be known by me, to be taken care of, but I was wrong. You, on the other hand, are unknown to almost everyone except your dear childhood friend. It must be so lonely. But when you're with me, you won't have to be alone anymore.

Ethan notices I'm distracted today, but he doesn't say anything about it. He's happy to take over the regular customer service duties if it means I'll run up and down the basement stairs carrying heavy books from eight to twelve. Ethan is the kind of guy who swears by a Kindle.

You'd never use a Kindle, would you? I can't imagine it. You buy books way too often to bother about something as asinine as digital reading.

Maybe if I tell you the Kindle is everything that's wrong with modern-day America, you'll laugh and agree with me. But then again, maybe you'll just think I'm a ‘gatekeeping dick’. That's what you called someone on Twitter when they said The Secret History was awful and that only insufferable, snobbish, self-absorbed, classist rich kids would ever think to read this shit. Don't kill me, (Y/n), but I kind of agree with the guy. One day you'll see my side.

I kind of agree with you too, though: the world needs to learn how to read again, it doesn't matter where they start.

I used to judge people for what they bought at Mooney's, but now I don’t anymore. At least they're reading. You're making me a better person that way. You're making me realize that even if people are just reading whatever bullshit they saw on TikTok, at least they're reading.

It's one pm, and you're late. I'm not too upset about it, though. You texted me about an hour ago.

YOU: omigod joe!!!

YOU: my boss is super pissed i forgot to send a client this important email

YOU: i gotta fix my mistake i might be like

YOU: 15 mins late

ME: Don't worry. Take your time.

YOU: 😅

I didn't reply to your smiley. What on earth am I meant to say to a picture of a smiling face? Besides, a smiley isn't worth nearly as much as your actual smile.

And there you are.

Only ten minutes late. It could have been worse.

You look flushed like maybe you ran here, and your hair is a mess so you've covered it with a beanie again, but you also look so happy to see me. I'm happy to see you, too.

You hug me.

“I'm so sorry,” you say. I'm not sure what you're apologising for, because I'm still trying to get over the fact that you hugged me. “I've had such a crazy morning.”

“You're not even that late,” I assure you, which is true. Candace used to be hours late, sometimes. Sometimes she didn't show up at all. “Do you mind giving me a minute? I want to wash my hands and stuff.”

I don't need a minute. I've been ready to leave for a while now. But I think you might need some time, and I can tell you won't ask for it.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “No problem.”

So I turn and I head to the bathroom. This means leaving you alone with Ethan, which may be risky. Ethan might say something stupid, or something about me. But then again, I don't think he'd ruin ‘getting some tail’ for me.

In the bathroom, I wash my hands and check my hair. I look how I always do after a shift at Mooney's, but I think that's fine.

You look beautiful, (Y/n). It's too soon to tell you something like that, but you do.

I emerge. You look calmer now. You're waiting in the office - Ethan must have let you in - sitting with your hands behind your head and your feet on the table. Stretched like that, I can see a bit of the skin above your jean shorts.

It's deliberate. You're taunting me.

“Hey,” you say. “All ready?”

You're wearing make-up. You don't usually wear make-up.

“All ready,” I agree.

[sirthisisa-wendys]

I AM BITING MY FIST AND SCREAM ABOUT HAND HER OVER II. WE NEED PT2🤲🏻🤲🏻🤲🏻

Let's say what happened after pt - since Koko has money & connections, Inupi & his wife were able to escape safely (or maybe not)

Omi's relationship with his wife crashed really bad after what happend. As a big bro,he always took care & protected who was younger - so he felt very ashamed and guilty that he wasn't able to protect his little wife. He know deep inside that what his wife said wasn't true,she didn't blame him but feel that she doesn't deserve so caring and attentive husband and cries a lot. So he do what he should - make sure she know that he madly in love with her and his number one priority

Well, about Mochi. I am afraid of my imagination, so leave it to yours

I think I'm going to leave Mochi's as is! It seems pretty obvious what happens, no thanks to Sanzu.

Hand Her Over II Part 2: Hajime Kokonoi/Takeomi Akashi x Fem!Reader

Hand Her Over Megapost

wc: 2.1k

tw: angst, Koko is in a poly relationship with Inupi and reader, Inupi is the "hinge" in the V, angst, fluff, angst

masterlist

Hajime Kokonoi

Inupi sits on the couch, furious.

"It's gone too far," he breathes, holding you close. "Mikey's gone too far."

"I know," Kokonoi echoes, looking down at his feet. He can't be on the other side of the room with his lover. He can't even support the two of you like he wants to. It's a shame; he's not sure how things got this bad, but...

"Listen," you add, sitting up straight. "If Mikey can't control himself, we might be in more danger than we originally thought. I'm not sure we can run forever."

"We could," Inupi murmurs, looking over at you with a sad stare. "But it would cost us."

Kokonoi sighs. He shifts his head onto his hands and tries to think. Where did Mikey stop, and where did the real world begin?

"America." Inupi and you inhale sharply. "I have contacts in America that will help for the right price." Koko stands and twists his long hair around his hand briefly. A bad habit he has to get rid of eventually. "I'll send you both that way and then ensure your tracks are covered."

"You're not coming with us?" The question makes Kokonoi flinch. He could never travel with either of you without Mikey knowing. There was too much hinging on his importance to Bonten. Which is why he can't tag along.

"No," he finally admits. "I... I won't be able to go with you." You burst into tears. Kokonoi's heart wrenches in two; he loves you. He really does. And he loves Inupi. But there's no way that he can go with you two without putting you in danger.

"I'll make sure you two won't have to lift a finger while we're apart." Inupi pulls you into his chest, where you sob. "And..."

"Koko," Inupi breathes. "You don't have to stay."

"I do," he repeats, standing firm. "I'll stay behind to make sure the both of you have the best chance at staying alive and safe." Your tears don't stop, not even when Koko presses a kiss to your forehead and wipes them from your eyes with gentle thumbs. "Take care of Inupi."

You clutch him even closer, and that in itself is a comfort to him. He's felt loved before, but your reluctance to let him go makes him feel adored. "Inupi, take care of her."

"I'm giving you a month to come get us." Inupi stands just a foot away, but it couldn't be any further. Koko already feels the distance in his heart. And it's a raw ache, the type he knows he might never recover from in this lifetime. Inupi joins in, hugging Koko tightly and inhaling his scent one last time.

"Don't forget about us."

"Impossible," Koko laughs, though his eyes prick with tears. "I would never forget about my favorite people in the entire world."

Kokonoi wouldn't be a good partner if he didn't see you two off at the airport. He holds your passports with an iron grip, praying you two would turn around and stay and fight with him. But when he hands them over, Kokonoi understands he's to face his fines creation - Bonten - on his own.

"Call me when you make it," Koko murmurs, adjusting Inupi's scarf and your jacket. "I'll be waiting by the phone."

"Get some rest," you urge him, touching his cheek gently. The ring on your finger will stay there; it's still a symbol of the promise Koko made to your family to provide for you and keep you safe.

"And don't linger by the window," Inupi adds, his own hand sporting a golden band - from Koko, but to anyone outside of the three of them, it'd look like they were a married couple. Koko nods.

"Your flight will be leaving soon." Inupi ushers you away, and Koko watches wistfully, touching his own fake passport in his pocket. I could still go with them. Kokonoi looks at the ticket counter, eyeing the various people clicking away at the keyboards and weighing baggage.

"Wait," Koko whispers, looking back at your retreating figures. "Wait!" You hear him first, turning around to stare at him hopefully. Koko hurries up to the two of you, his hands shaking and his mouth forming soundless words. Inupi frowns as Koko stands in front of you both, his eyes trying to drink their fill of the couple.

"D-don't..." Kokonoi isn't sure if he can say it. "Don't..." You both stand there expectantly, and Koko can see the desire in your eyes. You want him to go with you. And maybe...

"Don't--" Koko's phone begins to buzz angrily. He stops, sucking in a harsh breath. "Don't forget about the time change." Your shoulders slump. Inupi grunts. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone, seeing the name scroll across the top. Your teary hiccup is the last thing you muster before pulling free from Inupi and walking toward security. Inupi, ever the cynic, exhales and turns around, but not before muttering,

"You'll always choose him, won't you?"

When Koko picks up the call, Inupi turns away, scrubbing the tears from his eyes.

Takeomi Akashi

It's not like Takeomi to come home drunk in the middle of the day. But he staggers over the threshold, holding himself up by a thread. He hadn't been this bad since Shin died, and yet--

Something shatters when he opens the door, and Takeomi swears. When he looks behind the wooden frame, he sees a little project of yours lying on the floor in a million pieces. Whatever it had been, it's destroyed beyond repair.

"I'll... I'll... fix it," Takeomi mutters, closing the door behind him and gripping the wall for the strength to stand up.

"Not again." An exasperated sigh comes from the kitchen, and Takeomi slides down the wall, trying to take his shoes off. "I'm caring for you every day," you gripe, stomping to meet him in the foyer. "You're a lazy, drunk old man."

Takeomi burps, forgetting his efforts to untie his shoes and leaving them on as he sprawls on the floor. You approach him, face set in a grim line.

"Shoes," he slurs, pointing at his feet. "Can't get 'em off." You silently fume, but your fingers pluck at his laces, untying and undoing all of the work he'd done on them before.

"You come in drunk every day," you hiss angrily. "I have to... clean up after you, and for what?"

"Thanks," Takeomi whispers slowly, feeling your hands tug his shoes off. "Thanks, beh-beh. Shoes were really tight. Hurt." You stoop low and pull him up off the floor - your strength never ceases to amaze him - and he stumbles along with you to the bedroom. He hiccups a few times as he drags his feet, but Takeomi's mind is working at a mile a minute. It's his body that isn't responding properly.

"Y'know," he begins, wiping his mouth. "I could... we should do that thing people do when they're... together." You slide him onto the bed without responding, your eyes averted from his face. "We could... should... watch some TV and trash talk... shitty people."

"No TV," you murmur, taking off his tie and tossing it aside. "You need to watch TV like you need another hole in your head."

Takeomi laughs, pointing at each hole - two ears, one mouth, two nostrils... he has five already! "Maybe I need an extra one to round it out," he replies, leaning back on the bed and sighing. "Could use another one for all of these thoughts." You don't reply again, shifting him onto the bed fully and covering him with the sheets.

"Sleep it off," you command Omi, and he obeys, pretending to fall asleep immediately while making loud snoring noises. You grunt, putting a pillow over his face, and he laughs as he takes it off.

"Funny girl." You shake your head, the look of displeasure still on your face, and get up from the bed all in one movement. So graceful.

"I'll be in the kitchen. Shout if you need me." Takeomi opens his mouth to shout, but you add, "If it's an emergency."

"It is," he whines. "It's an emergency when you're not here."

"I'll be in the kitchen," you say again. "Five-alarm level emergencies only."

"What about six alarms?" You roll your eyes and give him a playful swat before leaving the bedroom. Takeomi debates on whether he should shout your name for the hell of it or just keep quiet and let you work on whatever you did when he wasn't here. He opts for the latter and lays back in the bed. His head is thumping with the blood that's pumping behind his eyes.

"Ugh..." Right now, Takeomi wants to swear off drinking for good. The hangover is never worth it. Takeomi exhales sharply, then resigns himself to sleep, like he should.

He wakes up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat. It's hot in the room, and... his hand feels around in the darkness. You're not there.

"Baby?" Takeomi gets up out of bed slowly, trying not to trip over himself or anything else he may have left on the floor. "Babe?" His throat is parched, and he feels like death... but he needs to ensure you're okay first.

Something tugs in his gut when he hears a soft sob, and he opens the door fully before stumbling into the light of the foyer. He holds his breath and peers around the corner, finding you at the kitchen table, holding your phone to your ear as you cry.

"No, no," you choke out. "It's just... I know everything is weighing on Omi. He comes home drunk most afternoons, and I..." You break off, then sniff. "I take care of him because I know everything was so stressful, and I love him. I just don't think he loves me anymore." Takeomi clenches his jaw. Here you are, worried to death about him when your assumptions couldn't be further from the truth.

Takeomi enters the kitchen nonchalantly as if he hadn't heard what you just said. He yawns, wiping his face, then sees you wiping your eyes quickly and whispering, "I'll call you later" into the phone.

"You alright, Omi?" you wonder, standing up from the kitchen table. Takeomi shrugs, opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle.

"Throat's sore as hell." He takes a few swigs, then turns to you.

"I can make you some tea if you want," you reply, smiling. Your nose is still red, but Takeomi can forgive that.

"I need a hug and a kiss." He opens his arms for you, and you oblige, leaning into his embrace and tucking your semi-wet face into his skin. "And a kiss?"

At his reminder, you lift your face, close your eyes, and pucker your lips. But Takeomi doesn't kiss you. Instead, he wipes your wet eyes, staring down at your puffy face in adoration.

"Why do you cry, my sweet?" he whispers, and you open your eyes. You look so sad, so forlorn, so dismayed. Takeomi's heart stops at the sight. "Are you upset with me?"

"No," you affirm, shaking your head. "Never."

"Then why are these tears running down my baby's face?" Takeomi wipes the fresh ones and clicks his tongue as you press your face back into his chest. "This won't do," he coos at you, stooping to pick you up. He scoops you into his arms and carries you to the bed, holding you against his chest even as he sits down on the comfy king. He positions you so your head is on his chest and you're straddling him; his hands run over your back and caress whatever he can touch.

"You know," Takeomi begins, regaining some sensibility. "I once had an awful time with my brother. Couldn't take care of him for shit. The guilt ate me up for years." Takeomi swallows hard. "Thought I had gotten past it." The unspoken fact that he still hadn't gotten past it didn't need to be mentioned. You knew already.

"Anyway, you shouldn't beat yourself up over all this." Takeomi strokes your hair carefully, leaning back onto the headboard. "This one was all me."

"Omi," you whimper, but he shushes you.

"I can handle it." His shoulders slump. "I'll take the blame for this. But you're my number one priority."

"But you'll drink--"

"No," Takeomi asserts. "It's not helping." You pull away from him, leaving his chest a wet, cold mess. You sniff and look up at him, holding his face between your hands.

"We should see someone about this. About everything."

"I'd do that for you." He takes your hand and kisses each fingertip, savoring the feeling of the unique fingerprint rubbing against his skin. What would he have done if you'd been taken away from him like Shin? "For us." He tilts your chin up with tender fingers. "And I still love you." And he kisses you like he means it.

[icarusignite]

The only heaven I'll be sent to is when I'm alone with you

Alfred the great x POC! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3k (angst/hurt-no comfort, yearning, religious imagery, blasphemy)

Dedicated to @justasightseer , sry this took me so long yet again lol

A/N: lol lowkey hurt myself writing this. So technically this is now complete, but if yall want another part, lemme know (fair warning though, them reconciling wouldn't be a very realistic ending but i am happy to write us a delulu happy ending where he proposes to reader lol). Also plz someone tell me you liked the religious imagery. I went a little nuts writing it <33

Part 1

"Perhaps it was sacrilegious, but what was a little blasphemy in the face of something this holy."

"Good morning, Your Majesty. And how are we feeling today?"

As the soft, early morning light streamed into the library, a sense of tranquillity hung in the air. With your trusty satchel slung over your shoulder, you approached the king for his daily check-up, giving him one of your best smiles. Although, if he was being honest with himself, all the smiles you gave him were your best. The veil that draped over your shoulders today was a vibrant green, and it reminded Alfred of early spring. 

"I'm much better these days," the Saxon king grinned at you, feeling almost boyish. It was the highlight of his days, these mornings spent with you tending to him. "It's all due to your hard work and dedication," he added. 

You inclined your head, acknowledging the king's words with humility, sporting slightly red cheeks at his compliment.  

"It is my utmost pleasure and honour to be of service to you, Your Grace. Your health is of paramount importance."

As you approached the king, who was seated comfortably on the divan that had been brought in for him, your nimble fingers deftly unfastened your satchel's clasps, revealing the carefully prepared herbs that had been instrumental in King Alfred's recovery. With meticulous care, you began to administer the prescribed treatment, all the while keeping a gentle conversation that offered solace and companionship.

"Excuse me then, Your Majesty. I need to take your pulse."

When you reached out to put your fingers around his slender wrist, Alfred froze, heart thundering in his chest at the touch. His breath hitched when you stepped a little closer, a faint floral scent enveloping him. By God, you smelled like spring too. Alfred closed his eyes.

You completed your assessment quickly and pulled back with a sheepish smile, mumbling a quiet apology for invading his personal space, but the King paid it no mind. In fact, his fingertips brushed against the sleeves of your dress, fighting the urge to pull you into him. 

The King was in love. There was no doubt about it. He had suspected it yes, back when he watched you sleep right here in this library, but the feeling had only solidified as time passed. It had been a while since he felt like this. He didn't even think he was capable of loving again, not after the death of his beloved Aelswith. He was somewhat ashamed to admit that yes, he had been with quite a few women after that, but there were no feelings involved. It was simply temptation, a weakness of the flesh. 

"It is good to see you doing better, Your Highness. Now that I have shown your healers the English substitutions of many of the herbs I use, they will be able to brew you these tonics even after I am gone. You will be in good hands."

Alfred looked up at her in alarm, snapped out of his internal reverie. You would be leaving? Why didn't he think of that? Of course, you would be leaving. Wessex was not your home. You likely had a family, someone you cherished back home. You had to leave one day, but the thought of not having you in his life sent an aching jolt through his heart. The feeling was so visceral, so real that he closed his eyes and winced. 

You gasped and rushed to his side, fingers splayed on his arm as you murmured your concerns frantically. Alfred finally opened his eyes to look at you, a little taken aback at your proximity. if he leaned forward just a few inches, he could kiss you. He could kiss that damned frown off your face. Instead, with great restraint, he nodded. 

"I am perfectly alright. Just a spell of unpleasantness," he waved his hand dismissively. 

You reluctantly pulled back, "Are you sure, Your Grace? I-I wasn't expecting such a reaction. The medication I gave you is not meant to have such side effects. Perhaps I might reevaluate your treatment plan again?"

"No!" the king blurted. "It has nothing to do with that I am sure."

How was he to tell you that you were the cause of his pain? You were both his downfall and his salvation, both poison and cure. 

"Are you sure, You-"

"Stop!" the King snapped. 

You blinked, a flash of hurt flashing across your eyes. 

"No, no, I did not mean..." Alfred sighed and ran a hand down his face. "I am sorry. I did not mean to speak that way to you."

"It is quite alright, Your Majesty. You may speak however you wish."

You bowed your head, not quite meeting his eyes. How presumptuous of you, to imagine that you and the king could be friends. He was still the king, and you were just...you. It was audacious of you to even feel offended at his tone. He was free to treat you as he pleased and you swallowed the tears that you felt bubbling in your throat. It was foolish. A mere traveller and the king. There was no room for anything else between the two of you. It was foolish to even feel this way. It was foolish the way your heart raced every time you saw him and the way you looked forward to your daily conversations. It was foolish that your heart had begun to yearn for something that could never be yours. 

As if sensing your internal anguish, Alfred finally gave in to temptation and wrapped his hand around your wrist, pulling you down to sit next to him. You comply, too immersed in your thoughts to realize that you were practically seated on his lap now. 

"I am truly sorry, you know," Alfred whispered. "It's just that...I was wondering if I might ask you for a favour?"

Slowly, you looked up at him, into his striking eyes and for a moment you couldn't speak. 

Alfred couldn't help the smirk that twitched at his lips at your speechlessness. 

"Do not worry, it is not something you are not capable of giving me."

"I-Alright, Your Grace. If it is within my power, then who would I be to deny you."

"See. That right there. I want you to call me Alfred. No more Your Grace this, Your Majesty that. Just Alfred."

"I could never, Your Gr-"

"Please..." the king's voice was ragged. 

"But-"

"Please," he said again, softer. 

A prayer. A plea. 

"But you are the king," you protested. 

"It is a heavy mantle to bear. I am always the king. But sometimes, I would just like to be Alfred, the man. So, at least while we are alone, I would like to be referred to as...just Alfred."

Your eyes softened at the desperation in his voice and you graced him with one of your radiant smiles. God, you were dazzling. 

"Very well then, just Alfred," you teased. "If you promise I won't be beheaded for it..."

Then you realized that you were still seated in his lap and a fierce crimson blush spread up from your neck to your cheeks. You hurriedly moved to stand but the king wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you back down. You gasped in surprise, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders for support. 

You just stared at him, eyes wide, equal parts terror and anticipation. You were on his lap. You were face to face with the fucking king of Wessex and yet all you wanted to do was press your lips to his. You must be utterly insane. 

Lucky for you, Alfred was just as insane.

"Are you married?"

A startled laugh broke free from your chest as you wrinkled your brows in confusion, "What?"

"Are. You. Married?" the king enunciated slowly, eyes drilling into yours with a ferocious intensity. "Or Betrothed. Or whatever... are you a woman spoken for?"

"What? Absolutely not! Why would I be-"

There would be time later for Alfred to rejoice about the fact that you were not, or for him to wonder how someone as breathtaking as you wasn't. For now, there was just you, and him and the searing heat of your hands pressed you into his shoulders. He lifted his hand gingerly, his movements painstakingly slow, allowing you plenty of time to pull away, to push him, to run. 

When you didn't, he let his fingertips trail up your jaw to cup your face. You stilled, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn't breathe. When he brushed his thumb across your cheekbone, you just about passed out. 

"Is this alright?"

You didn't say anything. You couldn't say anything. The words were stuck in your throat. 

"Say something..." Alfred's voice was low and raw. He was scared. Scared he had offended you. Scared he had pushed you away forever. 

"It-it's more than alright," you finally choked out. 

That was all he needed, and perhaps that was all you needed too, because it wasn't clear who made the next move. There was just a breath of silence, and stillness before the two of you were crashing into each other. Drowning. 

 Alfred kissed like he prayed. With a devotion so dedicated that it left you breathless. His lips moulded into yours and you sighed against him, your arms going to wrap around his neck, pulling him closer. 

"Please."

A prayer. A plea. A call to the divine. 

Alfred's eyes were closed. He was drowning. He was drowning and you were the breath in his lungs. You were proof that God existed because who else could have created a creature of such perfection? You were the heavens brought to Earth and Alfred would spend the rest of his days on his knees, thankful to have gotten a taste of your sacred lips. 

Perhaps it was sacrilegious, the thoughts he had about you now, but what was a little blasphemy in the face of something this holy. 

A sudden knock on the door sent you jumping from your seat, pupils blown wide, and chest heaving, and Beocca's probing voice for his king, sent you skittering across the room. When the old priest entered the library, you were out of sight behind some shelf, pretending to be engrossed in one of the manuscripts should someone spot you. 

"Ah, there you are Your Grace," Beocca smiled as he approached the king with a nod. "And how are your treatments going?"

Beocca's smile faded when he saw the glazed look in Alfred's eyes. It was only there a moment before the king quickly schooled his face into a scowl, but the old priest had sharp eyes. 

"Pardon the interruption, then, Your Grace," Beocca sighed. "Were you with one of your...women then? You are being careful I hope. Edward is nearly of age, and we have no time to be dealing with another...situation...that would rival his claim."

"You speak out of turn, Beocca!" Alfred snapped. "How I conduct myself in my private affairs is none of your concern."

"Of course, my King, I come from a place of concern...there are rumours."

"What rumours?"

Beocca hesitated, "Nothing too serious."

"When I ask a question, I expect it to be answered clearly, Beocca."

"It...it's your foreign healer, my King. Some of the ealdormen feel as though you have been spending too much of your time with her. They feel as though your efforts might be better suited to finding an appropriate bride."

"They want me to find a wife?" there was a dangerous glint in Alfred's eyes and the old priest knew he had to tread lightly. 

"I am sure it is just so that they can present their own daughters as candidates. I am just informing you, Your Majesty, so that you proceed with caution. There are many who seek to bring about your downfall and they are not above over scrutinizing every action."

Alfred sighed, heart sinking. He was fully aware of your presence in the room and he was not pathetically optimistic enough to hope that you hadn't overheard this conversation. He pinched the bridge of his nose in exasperation and sighed. 

"If that will be all, then leave me be, Beocca. I shall...take your words into consideration."

"If I may, Your Grace..." the priest hesitated. 

"Go on then, you always do."

"While I have greatly appreciated the lady's presence here at court, and it is truly joyous to see you in good health again, perhaps it is time for her to return home. She has taught us much and I believe our healers here in Wessex will be able to properly administer her treatments to you now."

"Leave Beocca."

"Yes, Your Grace."

As the door closed softly behind the priest, there was a stifling silence in the room. 

"You may come out now," Alfred muttered dejectedly. "I...I am sorry you had to hear that."

Your hurried form rushed out from the back corner of the library, making a feeling for the door. The king, in his panic, stood immediately, reaching to grab your elbow before you could leave. You pulled away from his touch as if it burned. His heart plummeted. 

"Apologies, Your Majesty. I must be taking my leave now," you bobbed your head in a bow, a curtain of your hair escaping the confines of your undone veil and falling over your face, obscuring your expression from him. 

So you were back on formal terms then. The Your Majesty grated on his nerves and he stepped forward to grab your wrist again, pulling you closer. Then, he pressed his fingertips against your chin, urging you to lift your head. 

What he saw when you did broke his heart. 

Tears streamed down your face. You had your lips pressed tightly into a thin line and your fingers clenched into fists. When you caught the expression on Alfred's face, you ducked your head and moved to pull away again.

"Wait, don't go, please..." 

The desperation in his voice might have moved you, if you weren't so incredibly consumed by the weight of your own self-loathing. You felt so utterly pathetic. He was a king, and you were nothing. What did you even expect? He had had other women clearly, judging by the words his priest spoke to him just moments ago. You would be nothing more than another notch in his bedpost if you allowed this to continue any further. Already you had debased yourself. You could not bear to lose any more dignity. 

With great difficulty, you freed yourself from his grip. 

"Will you at least let me explain," he called out after you. 

A strangled laugh burst out of you, fresh tears charting their course down your flushed cheeks. With a sudden surge of recklessness, you turned back toward him. 

"Explain what? You don't have to explain anything to a mere foreigner such as myself, Your Majesty. And Beocca was correct. I do think I have overstayed my welcome here in Wessex. I will leave detailed notes on your treatments with your healers and take the next ship back to Baghdad. Rest assured I will leave you in good hands."

Alfred shook his head frantically, "I do not want to be left in good hands. I want..."

"What? What is it that you want?" you scoffed. "What is it you want that you do not already have?"

You. I want you. For the longest time, all I have wanted was you. 

"I want you to stay," was all he said. 

Perhaps it was not quite what he had wanted to convey but it was the closest thing that he could push past his lips at the moment. 

"It appears you are the only one then. It is clear to me that I am of no more use here."

"I want you!" the king blurted. 

Then you really scoffed, your eyes sharp and angry. 

"How will you have me then, Alfred? In secluded corners, under the cover of darkness?" you spat, your voice venomous, but your stricken eyes and tear-stained face betrayed your pain. "I will not be your whore. I will not be your mistress. I deserve better than that!"

Alfred inhaled sharply. You had said his name. It was lovely. You had said his name and the syllables were right at home on your lips, just as he was too. The circumstances were all wrong but he could not help but marvel at it all the same. 

"You cannot deny it, can you? You have nothing else to give me!"

"But I-"

"Don't say it," you pleaded. 

Perhaps the king should have listened to you. 

"I-I care for you."

"That is irrelevant!"

"I have come to love you!"

"That is not enough!" you exclaimed. 

Alfred stepped forward, taking your hands in his. You let him. 

"What will be then?" he asked, urgency laced in every syllable. 

"Nothing," you sobbed. "I will not be your plaything, and you will not marry me. This is how it must be."

"I could-"

"Don't! You. Will. Not. Marry. Me. Your people would never accept a foreign queen, much less one who isn't Catholic."

"Is that what you want then? To be Queen?"

"What I want is to be respected. To have my honour, my dignity. I will not have that taken from me."

Alfred pressed a reverent kiss to the backs of your hands, "You will have it. You will be respected."

"Not as your whore. Not as the woman their king beds while his people pressure him to find a lawful wife."

"Please."

There it was again. A prayer and a plea. 

"You can't say it, can you? You can't say that you will marry me because you know it's impossible."

A single tear escaped the king's eye, streaking down his face. You were already insane you thought. What was a little more insanity? You reached up and brushed the stray thing from his cheeks. He stiffened at your touch, closing his eyes and leaning into it. 

Then you pulled away and he was left missing your warmth. When you walked out the door, he did not stop you. He did not stop you to tell you that you were already the queen of his heart and that anything else was a mere triviality he could deal with. 

Alfred, king of Wessex had a duty. A duty to his kingdom, a duty to the future of Christianity and a united England. A duty to his children, and his people. Alfred, the king, was revered, respected, and had a reputation to uphold. 

However, all Alfred, the man, could think about was the feeling of your lips against his and the broken betrayed way you looked at him when he told you he loved you. Alfred, the man, was only human and there was no desire more human than the one to love and be loved in return. Not revered, not worshipped, just loved. 

[thelampisaflashlight]

Mixed Messages Pt. 3

[Swiss has thoughts. Not suitable for younger audiences. Previous part here.] Below the cut.

Growing up, Swiss knew little of his demonic nature; He knew his mother had come from somewhere far away, but, so, too, had his father in a sense, the man having abandoned one swamp for another in leaving behind the Pine Barrens and traveling south to the humid hell that is Florida.

It was not until he was much older, already having found his bearings in the musical world in his own right, that he learned the truth.

But knowing what he was did little to impact who he was... until it became clear it was something he had to hide.

The more true to yourself you can be, the freer you are, and Swiss found the burden of hiding such a big part of himself from the world akin to a prison cell.

Dating, already a nightmare, became even harder to navigate, because what would happen if he brought some girl back to his place and she found out he wasn't human?

What if they had kids and the baby came out looking like Beelzebub?

How would he explain that that was... normal?

"You looked like a perfectly normal baby." His mother had reminded him when he came to her, fretting over his identity, "Very fat though. Such a fat baby. With a very big head."

"Very reassuring, Mom."

"Hmm, you never did quite grow into it..."

"MOM-"

His father also tried to assuage his worries, but it was pretty clear he didn't quite understand what they were actually talking about, because...

"I'm just saying, it's okay if you like men. Heck, your old man-"

"Pop, I like women. I'm talking about my identity as a demon." Swiss had sighed, furrowing his brow when his father raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Are you sure? That you don't like men?"

"I'm not gay, Pop."

"Bisexual?"

"I don't like men!"

"I didn't either, but your dad was a real babe back in the day!" his mother called from elsewhere in the house, "It was the moustache. That lovely thing is why you're here actually-"

"MOM!"

So yeah.

Not much help there.

And then he got scouted for the Ghost Project.

Honestly, that should have been where a lot of the confusion ended for him.

Finally surrounded by people who got it!

...But nobody could relate to the struggle of finding out about being a ghoul later in life, because all of them had been summoned, save for Mountain, but a dude who was alive when beekeeping was the new fun thing to do aside from churning butter and a guy who grew up in modern America have very little in common in terms of upbringing.

Still, it was better than nothing.

Mountain could fill in the blanks for him, at least to an extent.

Like how his magic worked, how to keep his tail under control, horn maintenance...

However.

"Who is that?"

There are some things Mountain could not help him with.

"That's Dewdrop."

And Dew was one of them.

Of course, there had been some resistance, on both ends, and, ultimately, Dew kept him at a distance.

At the time, Swiss wasn't sure where he stood in terms of his sexuality, and Dew...

Well, Dew had his own, figurative, demons to face.

But a small part of him still...

"You love him, don't you~?" Rain had teased while they cuddled one night, Swiss' face pressed again Rain's chest, "I see how you look at him."

Swiss had been embarrassed, perhaps even a bit ashamed to admit it, that, yes.

"...Yes, I love him." he confessed, "But I love you, too... Is that... is that weird?"

"I wouldn't say it's weird." Rain hummed, petting Swiss' hair, "It's different, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. You've got a big heart, and have a lot of love to give."

"Yeah, but, is it... Do you... Am I..."

"Honestly, I like him, too." Rain admitted, "I don't know if I love him just yet, not the way you do, but I could."

Swiss can recall lacing their fingers together while Rain spoke.

"We'll take it slow."

Well.

Well, well, well...

"What happened to taking it slow?" Swiss chuckled in Rain's ear as he cuddled closer to the reclining ghoul after Dew drifted to sleep between them, thoroughly exhausted.

"We're still taking it slow, just on an emotional level." Rain said, flicking Swiss' nose lightly, "Something tells me this..."

He trailed his hand down Swiss' arm and pressed a kiss to Dew's hair.

"This is the easy part." he sighed, "...You think he would let me dress him up?"

"Baby steps, love."

"Something nice and lacey..."

.

.

.

Dew glances over his shoulder at Rain as they're getting dressed after the show, hands hesitating as he gets to his pants.

He'd managed to shuck his pants and get the lower half of his uniform on before Rain had even made it to the dressing room earlier, the other ghoul having stopped by the one Swiss was sharing with Aeon before making his way over, but now there's no way to avoid him seeing.

Dew peeks at the soft lace hidden beneath the coarse fabric.

He... he hadn't been sure what to do with them after Rain let him borrow them.

You don't... you don't normally return underwear, right?

That had been his thinking when he initially took them off that night.

But, of course, it would be a shame to show them out, now wouldn't it?

They felt expensive.

And, well, if he didn't wear them, then that would be a waste of money, right?

All this to say... he hadn't packed nearly enough underwear for the trip, and while he could easily get more or risk using a hotel's laundry service the next time they stopped at one...

He just likes how they feel, okay?

They cup his junk nicely, and they breathe a lot better than his boxers do, and quite frankly they hug his ass in a way that makes his minimal behind look a bit more... plush.

He's never really cared about that sort of thing, but now that he knows this, it's become sort of a vanity thing for him.

He likes it.

The only problem is...

"Everything alright over there?" Rain asks, already tugging on his sneakers, "We have to leave for the bus soon."

"Yeah, yeah. Uh, how about you go ahead?" Dew waves him off, "I won't be long."

"I can wait." Rain says, sitting down on one of the uncomfortable folding chairs the venue tossed in the dressing room, "It's better if we walk back together anyway, that way nobody gets left behind. Buddy system, ya know?"

Dew swallows, "Yeah, sure."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"...Are you going to show me your panties or not?"

.

.

.

Swiss doesn't question it when Dew rushes the bus, haphazardly dressed, red in the face from thinking he'd miss it -not like they could leave without their lead guitarist- nor is he at all surprised to see Rain saunter in not but a moment later.

What he is surprised by, however, is the wadded up ball of black lace Rain casually presses into his hands as he leans in for a kiss.

"You can keep those."

Swiss lets the fabric unfold, "...Holy shit."

"I already told Dew he could borrow another pair." Rain shrugs, "I'm thinking something blue. Maybe I'll get you a matching set..."

[go-bonkers-go-foolish]

okay for real i have thoughts on the ofmd finale, and they're mostly positive, but i've seen a LOT of takes that are just. not using critical thinking at all. so i wanna outline my stuff here. spoilers under the cut

okay. so, first things first, a round of applause and a bouquet of flowers to con o'neill. brilliant, BRILLIANT work from him in both seasons - no exaggeration, maybe one of the best performances i've ever seen. he put his heart and soul into that role, and i cannot commend him enough. i was moved to tears multiple times this season, and he did wonderfully.

second, i know it's hard to hear, but izzy was ready to die. did he HAVE to die? no, of course not. was it fair that he died? no, death is never fair. but was he, as a character and in terms of the narrative, ready to die? yes. and before we go any further, i am saying this in explicit terms: i love izzy. i've loved him since day one. i've never been one of those people who was rooting for a bad ending for him. and this ending isn't a bad one.

izzy was exhausted. he was ready to resign last season. he was put through the fucking wringer this season. in season one, he explicitly says that the only way out of piracy is death. is that necessarily true? no, but for HIM it is. izzy's whole life was the sea. his whole life was piracy. everything he knew and loved belonged to that life. a life of piracy, constantly surrounded by violence and constantly in danger, isn't a place you can really thrive, but for him to leave it all behind would be torture for him. can you honestly imagine him retiring the way ed and stede did? i can't. i really don't think he'd want to retire. he wouldn't be happy. this post sums it up the best - it just makes sense, both narratively and in terms of symbolism.

and if the only way out for him was death, well, FUCK, then it's only fitting that he got the kindest death imaginable.

imagine if he'd died the minute he was shot and the crew had to leave him behind and we never saw him again. that would have been cheap, empty, and an unfair ending. imagine if his suicide attempt earlier this season had been successful, if he had died alone in the dark from a gunshot to his head. can you IMAGINE how hollow and bitter and cruel that would have been?

but look at him. izzy crawled his way back from the brink of death, he watched the person he loved most become a monster, he did the bravest thing and saved his crew over the person he'd been loyal to for decades, he literally dragged himself to a better life than the one he had before, and then, episode six. la vie en rose.

he was beautiful. he was radiant. he was joyful and surrounded by joy. most importantly, he was loved. i've rewatched that scene half a dozen times and i am not ashamed to admit that i've cried at nearly every watch.

that kind of queer joy and character redemption is not something i have ever seen before, and con performed it perfectly. he was there, surrounded by the crew, literally held up by a physical manifestation of their love for him. that is the apex of a character arc if i've ever seen one. that was his moment.

and for a time, he was happy. did it feel short because the pacing was incredibly rushed this season? oh, absolutely. but that's not the fault of anyone but hbo and their corporate bullshit. they had to jam-pack a dozen character arcs into eight half-hour episodes and do justice to all of them, so of course it felt rushed. but that moment, la vie en rose, and all the times after, that was a character done justice.

and then, he died. but did he die alone, or unloved, or unhappy, or before his time? no.

izzy hands died surrounded by the people who loved him, in the arms of the person he loved most in the world. he died forgiving and being forgiven. he died having experienced pure joy for the first time in a very, very long while. he died accepted and he died belonging to a family, with a leg made by his crew holding him up until the end. he said he was ready, he knew it was his time. he was a fighter, but he died letting himself rest, having fought and having lived beautifully.

it's like he said to ricky. he's gone, but he endures, because he was GOOD. he knew he was good. and for a man that was so thoroughly broken and beaten down at the beginning of his arc, that's a beautiful thing.

we watched him physically drag himself away from everyone who loved him, repeating "you are born alone and you die alone", and then we saw him die surrounded by their love. we saw them prove him wrong.

izzy died knowing he was good, and he died knowing he was loved.

death was not his redemption arc. he was redeemed from the moment he walked out into that rainstorm and saved his crew's lives by standing up to ed. this whole season was his post-redemption life, and he got to experience beauty and joy before he died in the way he wanted to - like a pirate - in the kindest way he possibly could have experienced.

we watched him go from the antagonist to the heart and soul of the crew, and saying it was all for nothing because he died is so blatantly missing the point. (and, just saying, no shade, but the venn diagram of people mad about this and people saying the good omens season 2 finale was bad is a circle. sometimes bad things have to happen in the narrative because it's right. a character you like doing something bad or dying is not bad writing.)

so, izzy, rest in peace. rest surrounded by love. rest knowing you were good.

and con o'neill, rest knowing that you did an amazing character justice, knowing that you blew everyone's minds, and knowing that you kicked ass in every single way possible.

and third, the phrase "rancid syphilitic cunt" is going to enter my vocabulary forever and no one will stop me.

[sydsaint]

Summary: The reader enlists help from Bron when Von Wagner won't leave her alone. Her plan ends up working a little too well for her liking and she develops some mixed feelings about Bron.

"I asked you to teach him a lesson, Bron. Not hospitalize him" You confront Breakker as soon as he comes stomping through the curtain.

"You didn't hear all the shit he was saying about you." Bron grits his teeth, still high off the adrenaline from the fight.

Bron walks right past you but you follow after him with an accusing finger pointed at him. "So that gives you the right to put a man in the hospital?" You ask him. "I just wanted him to stop hitting on me. Not.....not this!"

Bron stops and turns around to face you. "I did what I had to do to keep him away from you." He insists. "Don't forget, you asked for my help because you knew I wouldn't hesitate."

Bron's reminder shuts you down for the time being. He's right. You did come to him after it was clear that management wasn't going to do a damn thing about Von harassing you.

You wanted the harassment to stop. You wanted to stop being afraid to walk around the locker room for fear of running into him. But you didn't want this. You didn't want anybody to be seriously hurt. But that's what you get when you enlist 'Badass Bron Breakker' to help you out.

"You're right." You breathe an inaudible sigh. "Thank you, Bron." You give him his dues.

"You're welcome." Bron nods solemnly. "And hey, Y/N, listen." He places a delicate finger under your chin and tilts your head up to meet his gaze. "I know you don't like seeing people get hurt. But he wasn't going to stop. It was necessary."

You nod and turn to head back to the locker rooms. Shame is written plainly on your face as you retreat. But it's not because you had a hand in Von getting hurt. No. You're ashamed because you can't help but find Bron hot. This animalistic anger and violence he's been embracing as of late.

In the locker room, you are greeted by Tiffany Straton once you're through the door. She notices the shame written on your face and walks over to check up on you.

"Y/N, hey girl!" Straton offers you a cheerful smile. "What's up? You look upset."

"Hey, Tiff." You return her smile. "Do I? Weird, because I feel fine." You assure her.

Skeptical, Tiffany takes your arm and leads you further into the locker room. "Are you sure?" She presses you. "Is this about Von? I saw that match with him and Bron. It was brutal."

"Yeah.... It's kind of about that. I guess." You scratch the back of your neck.

"Did Breakker ask for something he shouldn't have for helping you?" Tiffany gets to her feet, ready to fight on your behalf.

You crack a small smile at the blonde's determination to defend you if you've been wronged. "No, it's nothing like that." You shake your head. "I just...I feel bad. I asked Bron to help me. But I didn't think he'd go that far."

"Yeah, it was pretty intense." Tiffany agrees. "But you can't blame yourself, Y/N. Von was harassing you and wasn't going to stop. You did what you had to do to make it stop."

"I know I know." You nod. "But that's only part of the reason I feel bad." You admit.

Tiffany tilts her head and sits back down. "Well then what is it?" She asks you.

"I thought it was hot, okay!" You blurt out your shameful answer while staring at the floor.

Silence falls over the room for a moment. Then it is followed up by Tiffany bursting out laughing. You narrow your eyes at her as she laughs at you.

"Tiffany! It's not funny!" You whine at her.

Tiffany gets in a few more laughs before she finally stifles her laughter. "It's kind of funny, Y/N." She insists. "Why are you being so hard on yourself? It's no big deal."

"Yes, it is!" You protest. "It's not...that's not who I am Tiff." You let out a loud sigh.

"Well the fact that you're into him says differently, N/N." Tiffany giggles.

You put your head in your hands and drag them across your face in frustration. Tiffany sets a hand on your shoulder and makes you look at her again. "Look, Y/N. I get it." She smiles at you. "Bron is an attractive guy. He's not my type sure, but he's obviously yours. And he stepped up to protect you when no one else would. So why wouldn't you be into him?"

"Yeah...I guess." You nod.

Fed up with your moping around, Tiffany pops to her feet and grabs your arm. She hauls you to your feet and drags you out the locker room. You dig your heels into the floor to try and stop her, but they don't call her the Buff Barbie for nothing.

Tiffany drags you all the way down to Bron's locker room and knocks on the door with her free hand.

"Yeah?" Bron opens the door and finds Tiffany standing in the hallway.

"Bron!" Tiffany grins at the champion while still holding onto your arm with a death grip. "Y/N here is super grateful that you helped her out with that icky Von Wagner. Plus she thinks that you're super hot and hunky! So here you go! You two have fun! Toodles!" She gives you a shove toward Bron.

Your words get stuck in your throat as Tiffany shoves you into Bron's chest. You regain your balance and watch Tiffany skip off while laughing to herself before you turn back to him.

"Ummm, hey." You blink a couple of times sheepishly at Bron.

"You look cute when you're being shy." Bron flashes you a sincere smile. "Come on in. Let's talk for a while." He offers.

You look inside the spacious locker room and nod. "Yeah, okay."

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

I absolutely LOVED ‘someone is going to catch us’ and I was hoping if you could make a continuation with them having a meeting with the principal in part two if you’re okay writing one? Thank you!!

Yesss here it is!!!! Maybe it's a bit sad, but it has happy ending. I just tried to be realistic, and I thought what the real Larissa's reaction would be. Anyway, I hope you like it and sorry about the language mistakes!!!! :)))))

-This is a continuation for: Someone is going to catch us

Someone caught us

Pairing: Marilyn Thornhill x Fem, Student! Reader

Warnings: slightly mentions of smut, angst, fluff

Word count: 1,808

Summary: Larissa caught you. Now you two have to face the consequences

N/A: Requests are open!!! Sorry about the delays, I’m working hard on your requests. I love you all!!!

“I told you, damn it, (Y/N), I told you,” Marilyn repeated at the of the principal's office door. You rolled your eyes, you were scared and nervous. Larissa had caught you, and it was not exactly a simple kiss, it was something, much worse.

Larissa watched as your lover was taking you against the desk, in the conservatory. You were embarrassed and the consequences would be devastating, but one thing was clear to you. You weren't going to give up Marilyn.

“Shut up,” you answered in a bad way. “If you had been less cowardly this would not have happened,” you said. You were nervous and angry with the world. You didn't want to take it out on Marilyn, she was right. It was your fault, but you weren't the one that was fucking you with a strap-on. Two people are needed for that.

“What? Are you blaming me?” the redhead asked with wide eyes. “It's not me who came to the conservatory wanting to fuck.”

“Maybe I wouldn't if we could live a normal life, unless that's not what you want, Marilyn,” you said, crossing your arms. You were teary-eyed and your whole body was shaking.

“What? You're diverting the conversation, you always do,” she answered you, shaking her head.

“You are not able to admit that you are ashamed of me. You don't want anyone to find out about us. You live in fear.”

“I think it's a little late for that, (Y/N). Larissa, my boss, the principal has found out. I hope you're proud,” she reproached you.

Surely that attitude was not the best you could have. You lost nothing but your reputation. She lost it too, but with it, her job. You felt guilty, but you couldn't prove it, deep down you kept believing that if you had had a normal relationship that wouldn't have happened.

“Well, yes, I am. It no longer makes sense to hide it,” you said with a presumptuous tone. Her jaw dropped and she continued to shake her head.

“You're an immature brat, (Y/N), you don't realize the consequences of your actions,” she hissed, getting closer to you in a dangerous way.

“Great, leave me. Go with someone your age,” you answered, hoping that she would not accept your proposition. You didn't want to lose her. You loved her, you loved her very much.

“Maybe it's the best thing we can do…” She whispered, looking towards the door again.

A tear ran down your cheek. You weren't willing to accept it. You didn't mean it, you didn't want to leave it with her. You started hating yourself for being so stupid.

“Coward,” you said, sobbing. Marilyn frowned at you. She didn't say anything, just looked away, placing a hand on her forehead uneasily.

“Ahem.” Larissa's voice interrupted the worst moment of your life.

She looked at you with annoyance, with anger, as she opened the door to her office. You both bowed your heads and went in after her.

Larissa didn't speak as she sat in her chair, looking at some papers. When she finished she stared at you, sighing.

“I've been the Nevermore principal for more than 10 years and I have to admit that I've never had to face something like this,” she said, with the most serious voice you've ever heard from her.

You looked at the ground, clenching your fists. The embarrassment of being caught was nothing compared to that little argument.

“I have had to face many things,” Weems continued. “Fights between normies and outcasts, parents who do not accept the ineptitude of their children, drunk and incompetent teachers. But this is new to me, so I'll just ask one thing…” She said, getting up from the chair with her arms resting on the table, leaning towards you. “What the hell were you thinking, Marilyn?!”

That scream wasn't going towards you, it was going towards the redhead, who was scared of Larissa's fury. She was embarrassed and didn't even meet the eyes of the woman who was yelling at her.

“I certainly didn't expect that from you. With a student, in a class in… Well, anyway, you know exactly what you were doing. Have you gone crazy?!”

“I…” The redhead whispered, her voice cracking.

“I don't want to hear what is surely an absurd explanation. I can't forgive you for this, Marilyn, I can't turn a blind eye to something like that. (Y/N) is your student! A teenager! What kind of morals do you have to do something like that?”

It dresses you with the need to intervene. It was humiliation enough for poor Marilyn, that she wept discreetly, without looking up.

“Eh, I'm not a kid, I'm 18 years old,” you said, furious to see Larissa speaking that way to the love of your life.

“I'm not talking to you, yet” Larissa said, now looking at you.

“She hasn't done anything wrong, it was my fault,” you said with conviction.

“I'll have to decide that.”

“You don't know what you're talking about,” you said, sobbing. “You don't understand.”

“I know exactly what I'm talking about, (Y/N)! I have seen it with my own eyes! You have broken so many rules that I should expel you right now,” Larissa told you, threatening.

Marilyn looked at you sideways. You've never seen her with those eyes. Her entire body trembled.

“No, please, no, don't expel her,” the redhead said, unexpectedly coming to your defense. “It's my fault, please.”

“Was it? Whose fault was it?” Weems asked, with a dangerous look.

“Mine,” you answered in unison.

“Oh… Please…” Larissa sighed, sitting back down.

“We love each other,” you said emboldening yourself. Marilyn looked up in surprise. It wasn't that look from a few minutes ago, it was one of sadness.

“What?”

“We are together, and we love each other. If you were capable of accepting it, none of this would have happened,” you kept saying.

Marilyn did something that brought you even more tears. She reached her hand into yours and grabbed it.

“Don't talk nonsense, (Y/N)… Nobody is judging the love you say you feel. What I'm judging is showing that love in public, at school,” Larissa whispered, writing on a piece of paper. “Let's get this over with. I don't care what you have between you two. It is not allowed, it is immoral. Maybe if I hadn't found out, or if you weren't stupid enough to do what you did, I might have missed it. But you've come too far, and Nevermore can't afford a scandal like this.”

You both looked at each other, your hands did not separate.

“Marilyn, from what (Y/N) says, I don't think you've done anything that is out of the law. Until today you have proven to be a good teacher, so I will not mention this in the next meeting. But I'm afraid you can't continue in Nevermore,” she said, extending a paper towards the redhead.

“It is a formal resignation for your position. That will make things easier for you and won't hurt your reputation. I am also going to write a letter of recommendation so that you can find a job as soon as possible. Sign it, it's the best for everyone.”

Marilyn wept silently as she picked up a pen from the top of the paper. You cried even more, seeing how she leaned over to sign it. With a rush of adrenaline you snatched the paper off the table.

“No! Don't do it!” You yelled. Marilyn and Larissa looked at you with wide eyes.

“(Y/N), calm down, it's the best. If I sign it, there will be nothing that prevents us from being together, do you understand?” She told you, taking you by the shoulders and reassuring you. Larissa watched the scene, curiously.

“No, it's not fair, Marilyn, you haven't done anything wrong…” You sobbed, preventing her from picking up the paper again.

“What we did was not right, (Y/N), it was risky and every risk has its consequence. Don't cry anymore, please,” she told you, running a hand over your cheek, wiping away your tears.

“We were just loving each other… Love is not a bad thing,” you said, hugging her desperately. “Please, do not sign, I do not want you to leave…”

She hesitated, but she hugged you back, sighing.

All of this was taking place under the watchful eye of Larissa, who remained silent.

“Calm down, my girl…” She whispered in your ear. It seemed as if the words she said to you before entering the office had been forgotten. It was a sad, heartbreaking moment, but you never felt so loved. “I will come to see you every day, I promise.”

Saying so and placing a soft kiss on your forehead, she took the paper from your hand and leaned down to sign it, handing it to Larissa as she tried to hide her own tears. Weems looked at the paper and nodded.

“It's not fair…” You sobbed. Larissa looked at you over the top of the paper and closed her eyes, sighing.

A sound of torn paper filled the office. Larissa broke that document into several pieces, leaving it completely unreadable.

“What?” the redhead asked, stunned.

“I'm only going to say it once. If I see you doing something inappropriate again I won't be so kind, do you understand? There will be no second chance,” she said, getting up from the chair again. “I don't want to see you together at school.”

“Sure, sure,” Marilyn said quickly, smiling with joy.

“Do what you have to do very far from here, is that clear?”

You nodded, taking the redhead's hand again.

“Get out, out, out of my sight…” Larissa said, moving her hand as she rested her head on the other. The two of you hurried out of the office.

Once outside you launched yourself at Marilyn, kissing her passionately. She pushed you away after a few seconds.

“Didn't you hear what she told us?” She said, also unable to hide her joy.

“She said she doesn't want to see us, she's not seeing us,” you said joking. She laughed and stroked your cheek again, shaking her head.

“What you said is beautiful, (Y/N). I didn't think you loved me that much.”

“Well yes, I love you, I adore you, I love you so much…” You whispered in her ear. “Do you know something?”

She shook her head, grabbing your waist.

“I still carry it in my backpack… I know of a place in the library that…”

“Oh my God, (Y/N), again?”

“There is no one... It has a door... Do you remember that I can walk through walls?”

She smiled sheepishly, but she bit her lip thoughtfully.

“Well, okay, but if they catch us again it will be your fault,” she said, while you grabbed her wrist, pulling her.

[mybrainismelted]

A.U.gust 2023 - Day 25, Vampire

@gallavichthings

It turns out that despite his promises otherwise, letting your drunk of an uncle/father turn you into a vampire does not actually cure bipolar.  

Sure, it makes the stretches of good days longer, but that means it also makes the bad ones longer too.  And guess what?  Vampires can't absorb mood-regulating drugs by swallowing them.

At the time, it seemed like a good idea - after all, this would let us fulfill our promise to be together forever.  And the first 50 years were amazing.  We were together, we were happy, we were in love.  That's about when we realized that I wasn't actually cured.  And a manic vampire is not a pretty sight.  I'm ashamed now to admit the amount of chaos I caused.  He stayed by me though, tried to keep some of my worst impulses under control.  And it only lasted about 2 years that time.  

Then of course the inevitable downswing.  Depression is a real bitch for a vampire.  Staying in your coffin (yes, it's cliche, but Mickey likes the symbolism of it) for a year is kinda gross.  But still, he stood by my side, forced me to drink some blood he brought home whenever he could, and stayed in our coffin with me every day.  Because he loved me.

But that was a long time ago.  My swings started happening more often, and lasting for longer.  When I was in between them, I could see the frustration and despair building in his eyes.  And this time.... this time by the time the downswing came, he was gone.

I'm not sure how many years I've been lying here now.... not able to move, not able to feed myself... I'm sure I am wasted to nothing, but I can't even get up and step into the sun to end my pain.  I think that maybe this time I will lie here forever.  Alone, unwanted, and unable to move.

                                   ***********************************

It's been so long since I've seen him.  I miss him every single day.  But those last few years of his mania, he didn't seem to notice if I was there or not.  It broke my heart, but I had to leave.  I had to figure out a way to keep living.   I don't know what his mental state is now.  Is he still manic?  Is he depressed and alone?  Maybe he is finally himself again and we can talk.  I dread what I will find, but still my feet carry me forward to the home we have shared for so many years.  Is he even still here?

"Ian?"  I call out, hoping desperately for an answer.  I move slowly through the rooms, noticing that everything is dusty and looks like it hasn't been disturbed for years.  My heart breaking, I head to the lowest level, knowing the chances are slim that I will find him there.

When I see our double-size coffin still in it's place, my heart flutters - alternating between hope and despair.  I moved forward, slowly lifting the lid, and fell to my knees when I saw the horrible sight within.

He is so thin.  Just skin and bones at this point.  Leathery and pale, his glorious red hair fragile and matted. He's not moving, doesn't seem to realize I'm here.  I'm not even sure if he's alive.

"Ian?"  I whisper, reaching out to stroke his hair.  At my touch, his eyes slowly fluttered open.  He looked at me like his eyes wouldn't focus, and then suddenly they snapped to my face, and a low "Mick?"  was mumbled. "I'm here my love.  You should know by now that I will always come back to you." I admitted.  "I'm sorry I was gone so long, I was trying to find you help." I reach in and slowly help him to sit, and pull a bottle of blood from my backpack where it's been kept warm.  "This will help, and when you are stronger I can tell you what I found."  Slowly I help him drink, seeing the slightest bit of colour return to his face.  He is still so weak, but I'm here now, and everything will be ok - I finally have the answer and know how to cure him.  We really can be together forever, and be happy.

[trafficpolicestate]

overreal post I have to embarrassingly bowdlerize and will probably delete but this is the only place I can express any part of this: I was doing so well in terms of being present in my life - not burning my brain out with screens, going outside, not letting every single night turn into a ""quiet night in"" (aka rotting that I convince myself is enjoyable). and then I went on, objectively, a pretty uneventful, short trip that still managed to be one of the best weeks I've had in years. I was surrounded by friends I enjoyed spending time with.

which wouldn't be abnormal except then I get back home and realize that that week felt like such a big shock, such a difference from my normal, because "spending time" has somehow, in the preceding years, slipped into feeling like a chore or duty with (). I'm ashamed I didn't realize it as it happened, I'm ashamed I feel this way at all, I'm ashamed and I feel like shit.

and sure sometimes when you spend so much time with someone it might feel stale and you just need to get over yourself and do more stuff together. I wish that was it but I continue to realize that it's not. I'm realizing so much of the things I consider "our time" are really ways so we don't have to talk. I realize the "let's watch one more" is sometimes so attractive because I don't really want to talk. etc. I hate hate hate how this is going to make me sound but when we do talk jesus a lot of the time it's massively grating. just the conversational style. I typed a lot more here but it feels so hateful and this is a me problem in the end. I think of the things we *do* together and there's vanishingly few that don't fit that category and they're all immediate-outside-focus based, and when we talk "about" something maybe it's more bearable, but only in a functional way

it's tearing - or has torn - me up to think that for longer than I can bear to admit I not only have likely not ()ed () for quite a while but I am kinda thinking I don't even really () them. how the fuck could I do this to them? I care about them (as in, I want them to be happy) and I can't bear the thought of being without them (this is not necessarily in a healthy way), but the thought of being *with* them for years and years and years more fills me with so much dread now. there's smatterings of dread I had over so many long-term things that I thought was from the sheer weight of those things... but now I see it's from the thought of doing those weighty forever things with () I had lingering thoughts of this before but I'd get to the first two points - I care about them and I can't fathom not being with them - and stop. and now I know those two are not everything that goes into () and I was maybe not completely wrong all those years ago when the r*dditor term 'codependent' floated into my head.

it's been two months and I've hoped the entire time that I'd wake up one day and realize I was a total fool. I've gone back and forth from utter despairing certainty to tentative hope, but that hope's been in the form of 'maybe it isn't really that bad and I'll learn to like it" and that just makes everything worse. I have put as much effort and care and time into pulling off this move and "doing things" in general because I can't risk even the slightest chance that I'm making this a self-fulfilling prophecy. but throughout the same thought has come to me: what of mine can fit in the first six plastic bins I'll take back to () when I go? what goes in the next six?

I hate myself for letting this happen to () and I literally cannot think about what it'd to do to them if I left but the thought keeps coming back. I think I need to leave and I also think I don't have the strength to do it, I don't have the strength to do that to *them*

[sweetmusingss]

Oscar smiled softly, loving that you wanted to smell like him. "Well, we can still pick out a few things for you just in case. Maybe I will end up using one of your girly body washes then because maybe I want to smell like you too," he admits. "Do you have any idea how many times I would just lay in my bed for hours after you left my room because my sheets smelled like your perfume?," he admits to you, not ashamed to let you know how much he had been pining for you. He was laying it all out there now that you were his. He shakes his head in amusement as you kept flipping through the radio stations. "You know that you can just connect your Apple Music, Princess, and play whatever you want," he chuckles softly, glad he wasn't an easily distracted driver. "But yes, there is a hot tub and a pool at the hotel. I like you all wet too," he said suggestively to you, a small smirk on his lips.

I look over at him at his confession, my brain going blank at the image of Oscar just laying in bed because it smelled like me and he couldn’t bare to leave. Especially considering Oscar was a get out of bed sort of person, unlike me who could lay in bed and sleep an entire day away, just staring at him. “That’s so hot…” I bite my lip, wiggling in my seat a bit since he had no idea what that image did to me. "Did you ever touch yourself?" I blush at the words that came out of my mouth but I needed to know, I needed to know if just the scent of me on my sheets was enough to arouse him. I felt like I wanted to make him pull over and just fuck him right here and now in this rental car, fuck our first time being special. It would be quite a story.

__

I laugh softly before shaking my head. "No, it's my other closest friend's son. It's my producer and we've written my last several albums together so I am excited to introduce you to him and to his adorable son," I say, smiling happily as you rubbed my stomach. I knew when we took that step, you would be incredibly attentive and probably protective and I could not wait for it. "Well, I have always wanted a dog so maybe in the future, we could get another cat and a dog," I smile softly to myself, not afraid to talk about the future with you. I loved the idea of settling down with you and having a full house of pets and children, wanting it all with you. 

"I think when I'm done racing I'd want a dog. I wouldn't want to bring a dog around like Charles does, it would just be an added stress... I wouldn't want to constantly leave you with the dog or have someone else look after him or her in my stead... I think a dog is a post-race thing. Could you wait that long? I'd be so down to get another cat though in the near future." Max chuckles, turning over so his head was still on your stomach but he was looking up at you now, his eyes sleepy and heavy, his voice trailing a bit since he was half in and out of sleep.