#unhealthy use of alcohol

[annabelle--cane]

you! person who talks about how "everyone has an addiction" and mainly means phones/video games! quick quick, tell me how you feel about people who compulsively use drugs!

[soup-is-here]

Mouthwashing Spoilers

TW: Addiction and Self Harm

I wanna go on about Swansea's final monologue but it's hard to put into words, but I'm gonna try anyways cause it's a short, but strong story about autonomy again. This post ended up significantly longer than I wanted though

It's the autonomy to choose the "less healthy" option because it's appealing to you. It's the moral assignment to normality and stability. An alcoholic is an alcoholic by choice, technically, but do they owe us otherwise? Is it morally reprehensible to enjoy taking LSD at a party? Should we see someone as less than because they relax with a xanax instead of a hot shower? It's not healthy. We know that. We've seen anti-drug ad after ad after ad. But is that the part that's morally wrong, in and of itself? Does enjoying the drugs and chaos make Swansea a worse person?

Like him talking about his entire life and ending it by saying between the "stable" "normal" life and him waking up every morning with a new hangover, he preferred the latter. People always talk about getting clean and fixing their lives and Swansea did it! He did the thing "good men" do! A wife and kids and a trade job and sobriety! He was doing it! He was finally "worth" something!

And he hated it! I mean I don't know if he actually hated/despised it, but he misses his previous life. He misses drugs and partying and living like you might not wake up the next day. He said the thing that changed him was seeing himself dead in a ditch under the bright beam of a streetlight. Now he's looking down the barrel of a gun. And as he looks down it, he looks back. That was his preference. It felt good to be like that. And he wouldn't be here if he stayed there

We always have a narrative about drugs or gambling or sleeping around where a person suddenly realizes that they aren't "doing anything" with their life and becomes stable and it's always played like addiction is a false pleasure. Swansea got to the stability people said would be the real pleasure of life and that just wasn't true for him. One bad paycheck could've been the difference between his stable life and falling apart anyways. His lifestyle was going to kill him someday apparently, yet he's staring down the barrel of a gun at his steady trade job to feed his wife and kids.

I don't know quite how to word it but Swansea is the poster child for rehabilitation. There's this weight to him saying his alcoholic period was the best time of his life. Like it just hits at that pang that makes people wear DARE shirts while smoking weed and post those videos of smoking 100 cigarettes at once. Anti-vaping ads tell you about the damage they do to your body but everyone knows that already. Everyone knows "this is what your brain looks like on drugs." I smoke medical marijuana and it isn't good for my lungs but it's good for my pain. Doing drugs isn't good for me and I know that and that's sorta the point sometimes.

I don't know it's just this weird pang where I know what Swansea means, just not to nearly the same extent. I don't have an addiction so I don't think I could fully understand it. Maybe a better thing I could relate it to for myself is self harm. It's not healthy sure, but who do I owe health? Myself? Other people? And what is healthy? Is it feeling better now? Is it resisting now and feeling worse for it until it stops? What if the coping skills I learn make it worse? What if they make it better? Do I want it to get better? Does Swansea want to get better? What would better feel like to either of us?

Who knows until you try. Swansea got a collared shirt, a mortgage, and a credit card. He got a job and a wife and kids. He got sober. He got healthier, depending on your definition.

But did he feel better? He's looking down a barrel of a gun and he has to decide if he feels better. It doesn't seem like he regrets his new life. He says he wants his kids to be better than him. He wants good things to happen for them. He saw himself as one bad slip away from falling again. I don't think he felt better though. I think he got healthier. He likely would've ended up in the ditch he dreamt about, but we don't know that. We also don't know if that's what he'd prefer. But, we do know he got healthier, depending on your definition.

[jaggedjot]

psychologically preparing myself for the next episode by predicting the most upsetting things that could happen

[mad-hunts]

an idea for how another character could meet barton in an untraditional way: your muse met barton while he was in residency by expressing concern for him as they saw him at the grocery store... with only like five bottles of wine in his cart at the checkout 🫠 JSJSJ

[dangraccoon]

Not To Think

Day 6 ~ unhealthy coping mechanisms ~

Crosshair

Word Count: 1225 Content: alcohol use/drinking to cope, drug use/using drugs to cope, underground fighting ring, drunk Crosshair

“Where’s Tech? And Echo?” “Echo’s been working with Rex.�� “And Tech?” … “Hunter, where’s Tech?” “Cross, I-I’m sorry, but–”

Crosshair bit down on his mouthguard harder as he narrowly dodged a swing from his opponent. 

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t drop the front yet; they were only a few minutes into the first round.

“Ya gotta make it look good,” his manager instructed him. He couldn’t believe he had a “manager”. “Ya can’t jus’ take ‘em down out the gate all the time. Ain’t no money in that.”

So he let his opponents rough him up a little. He didn’t really care about the pain– it wasn’t any worse than he’d gotten before. With every hit, something in the back of his mind thought this is good. Take the hits, make them look like they hit harder than they did, then take them down.

It was easy money and he had to pay for the apartment he shared with Echo somehow, and with his roommate off-world fighting at Rex’s side more often than not, most of the bills–and monotony–fell to Crosshair.

A hard hit to the stomach brought him back to the present, the pain coiling deep within him. The feeling wasn’t… unpleasant. Good, that distant voice purred.

He stumbled, only half-faking, and fell onto one knee. His opponent, a zabrak he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of, stepped towards him, but Crosshair was fast. He swept his legs out from under him, earning a loud wave of cheers from the gathered crowd. Crosshair crawled over him, delivering a swift hit to the back of his head, knocking him out cold.

The zabrak’s manager dragged him out of the ring, and Crosshair met his own at the edge closest to him. 

“Ya did good, kid,” the rotund lasat grinned as he counted the credits a disgruntled weequay handed him. 

Crosshair just grunted in response.

“That’s it for the night. Go home, fix ya-self up,” his manager said, handing him a half empty bottle of liquor. “See ya on Zhellday.”

Crosshair grunted again. He took the bottle, drained it, and dropped it to the floor. 

“That was some fight,” a nearly naked twi’lek purred, wrapping herself around his side.

He shrugged.

“Where are you staying tonight?” she tried again.

“Not here.”

She giggled. “I think you meant to say my bed.”

Crosshair eyed her. “Can’t pay you.”

She hummed, brushing a lek over her shoulder. “Maybe I just like sleeping with winners.”

Fuck it, he thought, the alcohol finally hitting his system. 

He followed the twi’lek to a cab that took them to a motel. She shared another bottle of some nondescript alcohol and a few spice sticks with him, and he left her well satisfied, still fixing his clothes as he stumbled out the door.

He caught a taxi out of the red-light district to the outskirts of Pantoran City, and stumbled his way up the stairs and into his apartment.

The lights were on, making his eyes sting.

“–sshair? Hey, Cross–”

Shit, he thought.

“Yeah, ‘shit’,” Echo grumbled. “Some way to greet your brother.”

Crosshair groaned. He was surely in for a lecture. He staggered a little, but Echo caught him.

“Maker, you reek,” Echo complained. He sniffed. “Kriff, did you do spice, Cross?

“Y’ur unn ta talk ‘bout reekin’,” Crosshair slurred, poorly attempting to wriggle out of his brother’s grasp.

“Nope, no, you’re getting a fucking shower.”

Echo felt more like he was wrangling a feral tooka into the bathroom rather than his lanky brother.

He shoved him through the bathroom door standing in between Crosshair and the exit. “Come on, Cross. You know you’re gonna feel better if you get cleaned up,” Echo tried to reason.

“You dunno shit,” Crosshair growled.

Echo sighed. “Right, right. So we’re doing this then?”

Crosshair started to protest, but Echo was faster. He wrestled him into a headlock, dragging Crosshair with him into the wet room. He turned the water on, the chilly spray hitting both of them.

When Echo finally released him, he fell against the wall, catching himself with one hand and his face, directly in the stream.

“Strip,” Echo ordered.

Crosshair started to protest, but stopped himself when he saw his tormentor’s sour expression. Slowly, and with more difficulty than he should’ve faced, he wrestled his jacket off, and dragged his soaked shirt up over his head.

“Cross,” Echo gasped. “What the hell happened to you?”

Crosshair’s torso, arms, and hands were on full display, along with the deep purple bruises he’d accumulated over the last week’s worth of fights. His knuckles had bruises overlapping one another. His arms were covered in scratches, more bruises, and– was that a bite mark?

Crosshair saw him staring and looked down at the imprint of teeth on the skin of his arm. “Tha’ one was consenshul,” he slurred, making himself chuckle.

“Par te cyarir be an kebise urman’la,” Echo grumbled as he climbed out of the wet room to get their well-stocked and well-used med kit. [For the love of all things sacred.]

Crosshair laughed sardonically as Echo rolled his eyes and started laying out the various items he’d need. “Finish up in there so I can patch you up,” Echo said.

Crosshair stumbled out of the wet room a moment later, naked as the day he was decanted. 

Echo sighed, grabbing a towel to hand to Crosshair, who swatted his hand away. “Maker, Cross, just let me help you!”

Crosshair stopped fighting him after that, resignedly accepting it as Echo smeared bacta over his bruises and wrapped them with a gentle, practiced hand.

“What happened, Cross?” Echo asked quietly. “Bar fight?”

“Nah,” his brother answered. “Nuh-uh.”

Echo frowned, his hand resting on Crosshair’s forearm. “Please talk to me, Crosshair.”

Crosshair’s bloodshot and glassy eyes finally met Echo’s. They were tired. And sad.

“I fight,” he muttered. “‘N th’ red-light ‘nd all tha’.”

Echo scowled. “Are you saying you’re part of an underground fighting ring? The ones Riyo is constantly working to dismantle?”

Crosshair nodded gently, and Echo looked like he had about a hundred things he wanted to say, but instead he just took a deep breath. 

“When is your next fight?”

Crosshair blinked a few times. “Uh… Zzz…zhell?”

“Zhellday? Alright, you’ve got three days to sober up then,” Echo said. “Let’s get some meds in you and some damn water.”

Crosshair felt very small, the wall of numbness he’d built up was starting to crumble. If Echo keeps being nice to me, he thought, in a brief moment of lucidity. I might just lose it.

He thought he thought it, but he must have said it aloud because Echo scoffed as he returned with the meds and water. “Yeah, I’m a ray of fuckin’ sunshine.”

Crosshair took the meds and drank the water, though the latter was under protest as he repeatedly told Echo it tasted like shit.

Eventually, Echo got him into his bed, sighing as he finally seemed to fall asleep.

As he stood up, a hand reached out to him. “Echo?” Crosshair whispered.

“Yeah, vod?”

“‘m sorry.”

“You don’t have to–”

“Tryin’ not to think ‘bout ‘im so much.”

Echo sighed. “I know, Cross. Me, too.”

“‘m sorry, Echo,” Crosshair whimpered. Echo could feel his heartstrings tugging. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”

Crosshair sniffled. “‘kay.”

« Previous Day Next Day »

Thanks for reading! - River

Whumptober 2024 Masterlist DangRaccoon Masterlist Taglist Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @padawancat97 @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[phddyke]

Also though? Serious props to Helluva Boss for saying there’s nothing wrong with partying or being slutty—BUT it can also be used as a self-harm method if you’re drinking and making out with four people at once as a shitty coping mechanism!!

[graceful-starker]

Peter's Boyfriend ch. 4

Chapter Four - Moving Forward

Summary: The gang is back from Thanksgiving Break, and they have stories.

Warnings: Drug use, alcohol use, panic attacks, nose bleeds, mentions of past violence. (If I missed anything please let me know! I think I covered it all).

Word count/rating: 9.3k, rated M.

Notes: Massive shoutout to Kimsberly on ao3 who left a great comment on this fic and gave me so much inspiration to continue.

I have two prequel fics coming out in the next few days, one to delve into the messiness that is the Nat/Bruce/Clint situation, and one that goes into the Sam/Bucky/Steve situation.

~~~

Peter bounces excitedly on the balls of his feet, checking his phone yet again to make sure Wade said he would be here. He’s been back on campus literally only ten minutes-only just long enough to drop his stuff off in his dorm room before he booked it here.

The door opens, and Beck is sneering at him. “Oh. You.”

Peter doesn’t let it get to him; he’s just excited to see his boyfriend again. “Beck,” he greets softly. “How was your break?”

“Don’t talk to me,” Beck says rudely, and Peter’s eye twitches. “Wilson!” Beck stands aside and lets Peter in, and Peter just skirts past him shyly. He doesn’t get why this dude dispises him, but whatever. 

Wade thumps down the stairs loudly, and the smile on his face is so bright and beautiful that Peter almost swoons. “Peter!” He greets, before tackling Peter in a bear hug.

Peter giggles happily, wrapping his arms around Wade’s neck and letting himself be twirled. Wade always makes him feel so special; like he’s priceless. Like Wade is the one who can’t believe they’re together. “I missed you,” he giggles, smiling up at Wade once he’s put back down.

Wade connects their lips excitedly, and pulls Peter into his body. Beck makes a gagging noise behind them, so Wade pulls back and flips him off. “Go be lonely somewhere else, you’re pissing me off.”

Beck scoffs and rolls his eyes, but he thankful leaves towards the kitchen area.

Peter laughs and looks back to Wade, a giant smile fixed on his face. “Let’s go to your room,” he suggests, moving his hand down Wade’s arm to intertwine their fingers. 

Wade grins and nods, starting to lead the way. “I didn’t know if you had eaten yet, so I ordered some pizza for us to munch on.”

Peter giggles, following just half a step behind Wade. “I had breakfast but it was an early one, the drive here is annoying as hell,” he jokes. They go into the room, and Wade shuts and locks it behind them.

“It’s on my desk if you’re hungry. I already had a slice-sorry,” he says cheekily, ducking his head.

Peter only smiles, grabbing himself a slice and sitting on Wade’s desk chair. “How was your break?”

“It was okay,” Wade says, sitting on his bed and stretching his arms over his head. “I stayed here, looked after the house and all that. Most people go home during breaks, so it was kinda lonely.” He gives Peter puppy dog eyes.

Peter grins after swallowing a bite. “Poor baby. Why didn’t you go home?”

“Don’t like my parents all that much,” he says, shrugging. “What about you, how was your break?”

“It was good,” Peter says, putting his slice down and dusting his hands off. “I uh…I came out to May,” he ducks his head, feeling a blush start to slowly form. “I told her about us. She says she likes you already,” he looks up at Wade from under his lashes, biting his lip.

Wade is smiling, his eyes warm. “What lies did you tell her about me to make her like me?”

Peter laughs, looking up fully and smiling back. “Just that you make me happy and you…” he blushes, but he laughs breathily and continues. “You make me feel likle you…”

Wade stands up, slotting himself between Peter’s legs and smiling down at him. “Like I love you?” he whispers. 

Peter’s eyes widen, and his breath catches. “You love me?”

Wade nods, one hand sliding under Peter’s chin to gently convince him not to look away. “I love you, Peter Parker.”

Peter stares at him for a second, eyes wide and jaw slack with awe. Peter. Wade loves Peter. He actually loves Peter, actually wants this relationship. He makes Peter feel so unbelievably happy all the time, just by being himself-and he loves Peter. Peter surges up, making Wade stumble just a bit but niether of them care. Peter connects their lips in a fierce kiss, one hand tangling in the back of Wade’s short hair and the other cupping the back of his neck.

Wade makes a surprised noise, but his hands go to Peter’s hips and he gives as good as he gets back into the kiss. He pulls Peter with him back to the bed, letting himself fall back so he’s sitting on the edge and Peter is standing between his legs. “Peter,” he mumbles into the kiss, not pulling away enough to really get the name out. 

Peter hums softly, smiling into the kiss. “I want you to fuck me,” he whispers, letting his hands cup Wade’s neck gently. 

Wade pulls back, breath hitching and eyes dark. “Really? You’re sure that you’re ready? We don’t have to go all the way, you know I like what we-”

Peter laughs breathlessly, kissing Wade again softly. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my entire life,” he says, only pulling back enough to actually see Wade’s eyes. 

Wade swallows thickly, surging up to connect their lips one more time before starting to kiss down Peter’s neck. Peter tilts his head to the side, climbing into Wade’s lap and humming softly. Wade puts his hands on Peters hips, helping him balance, and then pulls away to smile at Peter. “You’ll let me know if you want me to stop, right?”

Peter nods, even though he’s almost entirely sure he isn’t going to want Wade to stop. “Promise,” he whispers, before connecting their lips together again.

Wade picks Pete rup by the back of his thighs and turns them around, resting Peter gently on the bed on his back, the pillows under his head. Peter blushes and smiles up at him, running his hands along Wade’s body. Wade starts to get undressed, and Peter half watches him and half attempts to get himself naked. 

He’s done this part before. They’ve fooled around some; blowjobs and handjobs and even a very fun night where Wade fucked his thighs. But he’s never done this part with anyone at all. He wants to do it with Wade so bad, though.

Wade smiles and crawls over Peter, running his hands over Peter’s body before ducking down and connecting their lips. “Beautiful,” Wade whispers.

Peter blushes and runs his own hands along Wade’s body. “Wade,” he whispers, gasping when Wade’s hand wraps around him. 

“You’re absolutely sure?” Wade asks again, kissing Peter’s nose.

Peter grins, moving his hands up Wade’s sides and nodding. “Yes. I want this-I want you so bad.” He spreads his legs apart, moving them so his knees bracket Wade’s hips. “Say it again,” he says, brushing his lips against Wade’s again.

“I love you,” Wade says easily, slotting their hips together and kissing Peter passionately.  

~

Peter feels like he’s on cloud nine. His first time with Wade was about as close to perfect as he coud have hoped for, it was every bit as romantic and good as he imagined it would be. 

He walks into his bio lecture and doesn’t even care about anything else; he doesn’t care that Tony is going to ignore him and sit on the other side of the room. He doesn’t even care what Tony said about him, or thinks about him. He doesn’t care that all his friends think it’s Peter’s fault Tony is being an asshole. Nothing matters except for the way his legs are still kinda wobbly and he’s just the perfect amount of sore to make him feel warm and floaty. 

Peter is so lost in thought about how much he doesn’t care about Tony anymore that he almost doesn’t notice Tony coming to sit next to him until he’s taking the desk. 

Peter straightens up, holding his pencil just a bit tighter. He looks at Tony from the corner of his eye, his leg starting to bounce anxiously. 

“Did you have a good break, Pete?” Tony asks suddenly, and it’s said so casually. So normally. As if Tony never said anything wrong, as if he doesn’t even remember ever fighting with Peter. 

Peter turns to look at him, blinking slowly. “What?”

Tony shifts, rubbing his thumb over his pencil nervously. “I asked how your break was. You went to see your aunt, right?”

Peter stares at him, long enough that Tony starts to squirm. He rubs a finger under his nose, before scratching at his beard. “You’re just going to pretend you didn’t say all of that to me?” he finally asks. 

Tony squirms, clears his throat, and adjusts his notes on the desk. “I’m sorry I…” he turns to look at Peter, chewing on his lip. “I don’t think that way about you, Peter. I think you’re…” he looks away again, over his shoulder. “I miss you, Peter,” he whispers. 

Peter frowns, looking back to his own desk and sighing. “You made me feel like shit, Tony. Like nothing. You-”

“Alright, everyone, quiet down. I’m sure you have lots to catch up on with each other from the break, but you can save it for after my lecture. Now, before the break, we left off on…”

Peter sighs softly and picks up his pencil, getting ready to take notes. He notices Tony shifting restlessly next to him, and towards the end of class he gets up and leaves. He doesn’t take his notes, so Peter assumes he’s just going to the bathroom or something. He comes back just before the end of class, seemingly more settled. 

“Alright, that’s about time. Don’t forget your assignment is due before next class period, not 11:59 like it usually is. Have a good day guys!” the professor ends, starting to pack up her stuff. 

Peter starts to pack his own stuff up, but as he’s standing Tony stands in front of his desk. “Peter?” he asks, looking down at his feet. 

“What, Tony?” he asks, sighing heavily. He just wants to go and meet Wade in the student union, so they can grab some food and hang out.

“I really am sorry. I was a dick, a massive one, and you didn’t deserve any of it. You didn’t deserve the way I ignored you, you didn’t deserve any of the things I said to you, and you didn’t deserve the way I treated you right before break. I’m sorry, Peter. You’re my best friend, and I don’t want to keep-” he curses softly and brings a hand to his nose.

Peter’s eyebrows furrow in concern. “Shit, is your nose bleeding? Do you need a tissue?”

Tony sighs, tilting his head back and shaking his head. “I don’t want to keep being an asshole, and I don’t want to keep-keep…I want to be your friend again, Peter. I miss you, and I’m sorry I was so awful to you.”

Peter pulls a tissue out of his back pack and hands it to Tony, who sighs and takes it reluctantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard you apologize before,” he mumbles.

Tony laughs, folding the tissue and keeping it to his nose. He’s gotten blood all over his face and hand, and he looks so pitiful that it makes Peter’s heart hurt. “I don’t usually care enough about what people think to do it,” he answers honestly. 

Peter gives him a sad smile. “You’ll have to work really hard to make it up to me, Tones,” he says, but uses his old nickname to show he’s mostly forgiven. 

Tony smiles, eyes lighting up with hope. “I will, if you let me. I’ll be the best friend ever, I swear. I’ll-I’ll do whatever it takes to make you trust me again.”

Peter blushes a bit, but cocks his head to the side. “Come on, we need to get you cleaned up. You got blood all over yourself. And what did you do to your eye? You're a whole mess.”

Tony laughs, a bit awkward, and starts to walk towards the bathroom. “I wasn’t paying attention and walked into a doorway. But if anyone asks, say it was something cool. Say I won a fight or something.”

Peter giggles, turning on the sinks and grabbing some paper towels. “Sure, you got into a fight with some rando back home. You should see the other guy.”

Tony grins, wiping his face down and sniffing, inspecting his nose. “Yeah, the other guy.” He turns and smiles at Peter, throwing the towel away. “Fuck that guy.”

“Got what was comin’ to ‘him,” Peter agrees, adjusting the strap on his back pack. “You hungry? I’m meeting up with Wade for lunch, if you wanna come.”

“Nah, I’m not hungry,” Tony says, looking away. “I should probably get some homework done, I barely did anything over the break.”

Peter rolls his eyes fondly. “No one did anything over the break, it was break.”

Tony huffs and looks back up at Peter. “I don’t wanna intrude, it sounds like a date.”

“Nah,” Peter says, bumping shoulders with Tony and starting to lead the way. “It’s just meeting up, he’s taking me to dinner tomorrow night after his practice. I bet a couple of his brothers will be there, at least Matt. Come on!”

Tony hums, following at Peter’s side. “Alright then, if you’re absolutely sure he won’t get pissed that I’m there.”

“He’s chill,” Peter says, smiling at just the thought of Wade. “You would know that if you had talked to him by now.”

Tony winces, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry, Pete,” he mumbles. 

Peter knocks their shoulders again, giving Tony a smile. “Come on, he’s already waiting.” They start walking, Tony talking about their bio assignment due before next class. They’re halfway there when Peter stops walking. Tony almost keeps going, has to turn around and give Peter a confused look. “Can I tell you something? It’s-it’s about Wade. But I want to tell someone, and you’re my best friend, and-”

Tony smiles at him, nodding encouragingly. “You can tell me anything, Pete.”

Peter smiles, takes a deep breath. “Wade told me that he loves me, yesterday,” he says, and he can’t even stop the fluttery giggles that escape from him. Even just thinking about Wade saying it makes him feel so warm and fuzzy. 

“That’s-” Tony’s eyes widen, and he forces a smile. Peter knows it’s forced, but if Tony really wants to be his friend again, he’s going to have to be willing to listen to this stuff. “That’s great, Pete. That’s exciting!”

“Yeah,” Peter says dreamily, starting to walk again and letting Tony fall into step beside him. “I can’t believe it. Someone loves me, Tony. My boyfriend loves me.”

“I can believe it,” Tony mumbles, and Peter chooses not to look at him. “You’re the best person I know. I’m surprised more people aren’t tripping over themselves to try for a chance with you.”

Peter blushes a bit, ducking his head. “I don’t know about all that, Tones.”

“Nah,” Tony says, and his voice is lighter now, more humorous. “Prettiest boy on campus, and you just so happen to also be the nicest and you’re super smart. And now you’re dating a football player, so you’re taken–line around the block, kid.”

Peter blushes and giggles, shooting Tony a giant smile. “Shut up,” he says, pushing Tony just enough to make him stumble a step. 

“No, seriously. There’s nothing about you to not love.” Tony shoulder checks him gently, and his eyes are half sad. 

“We slept together,” Peter blurts out, having to look away from Tony’s expression. 

“You-you lost you-” Tony’s eyes are wide. 

“Yeah,” Peter says, smiling at the memory of the way he felt. “It was like I always wanted it to be. He was-he was great.”

Tony is grinning again, and he shoves Peter playfully. “Look at you! They grow up so fast.”

Peter blushes and laughs, shoving him back. “Shut up,” he says, turning them to the sidewalk leading to where they’re meeting Wade. 

Tony snickers and opens the door, letting Peter walk through first. “Hey, now nobody can make fun of you anymore. You aren’t even the most innocent person in the group now!”

Peter blinks and looks to Tony, leading them to the area Wade said he would meet him at. “Who are you thinking of?”

“Wanda and Vis,” Tony says, furrowing his brows. “Obviously.”

Peter smirks and shakes his head. “You’re delusional if you think they aren’t fucking.”

Tony gasps, putting a hand over his heart. “Nah, nah. No way. They’re babies.”

“Tones, they went to high school together. I’ll bet five bucks they lost their v-cards under the bleachers at some football game junior year.” Peter spots Wade and smiles widely, waving at him. “Yeah, see? He brought Matt. Come on, you’ll love them both.”

Tony is seemingly in a disturbed trance at Peter’s news about Wanda and Vis, but follows Peter anyway. “No way…” he whispers. 

Peter rolls his eyes and gives Wade’s cheek a kiss before sitting across from him. “Hey Matt, Wade! This is Tony, he’s my friend.��

Wade side eyes Tony, likely wondering what’s changed since the last time Peter cried about his best friend ignoring him. But he smiles and nods to them both. “Hey, baby. Nice to meet you, Tony. You feeling alright, Peter?”

Peter blushes a bit, but he nods and smiles. “Yeah, I’m good. Great.”

Matt smirks, cocking his head to the side. Peter is always just a little freaked out by him; it’s like he knows things. Like he sees things everyone else can’t even though he’s blind. “Nice to meet you, Tony. Is Tony in your biology lecture, Peter?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, stealing a fry from Wade’s tray. “We just came from there.”

“Well, you guys should go get in line. I think we’re about to get flooded with students.” Matt turns his face towards the door.

Peter bolts up, grabbing Tony by the arm. “Come on.”

“What?” Tony asks, looking confused. “There’s no one here.”

“Matt is never wrong,” Wade supplies, munching on a fry and grinning. “Oh look, here they come,” hen nods to the window facing out, and it’s like a whole building of classes let out at once.

“Damn,” Tony says, laughing. “Come on!”

Peter laughs and leads him towards a line at a burger place, grinning. It feels almost normal, and he couldn’t be happier. 

~

Peter sighs and leans against the wall outside of Bucky and Steve’s apartment. “Well I wouldn’t sound so sad if you just came with me,” he mumbles into the phone, knowing he’s pouting but he can’t seem to help it.

“We’re initiating this semester’s new freshman,” Wade says for what’s probably the tenth time, and Peter can practically feel the impatience rolling off of him through the phone. “I can’t miss this.”

“I know,” Peter whines, crossing his free arm over his torso. “Still.”

Wade chuckles softly, and Peter hears someone start the music in the background. “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises lightly. “I’ll blow your mind when you get back tonight.”

Peter feels himself shiver, and a grin grows on his face. “Promises,” Peter says, voice lilting with laughter.

“Yeah, I promise,” Wade says, a grin evident in his voice. “And I’ll keep you in bed all weekend too, you’ll have jelly for legs by Monday.”

Peter feels his face heat up, and he giggles softly. “Stop it,” he whispers, as if anyone could hear them. 

“You won’t be saying that again all weekend,” Wade promises, and Peter can almost see him wiggling his eyebrows at Peter. 

Peter laughs and pushes himself off the wall, sighing heavily. “I’ll hold you too that, babe. I’ll see you later tonight,” he says.

Wade hums and laughs softly. “See you later, sweetheart,” Wade says, before hanging up. 

Peter sighs and pockets his phone, taking a few deep breaths before opening the door. “Hey guys!” he calls, and follows the sounds of greeting to the living room. 

Bucky and Steve have their apartment set up differently than Thor or Tony, who have lots of couches and loveseats scattered around. They have exactly one couch in the middle of the room, which can seat four people if you squeeze. When they all meet at this apartment, they drag the chairs from their kitchen table in, as well as their desk chairs, and everyone has to make do with those or find a comfy spot on the floor. 

Peter’s finds it cozier. It reminds him of May's apartment. 

When he walks in, it seems like they decided to forgo the furniture, as the couch is pushed back slightly and there are no chairs. Instead, there’s a ton of blankets laid out on the floor and a few pillows scattered around. The coffee table stays in the middle of the room, and there are three cases of beers and two bowls of chips resting on it. “Well this is fun,” Peter says, smiling.

Steve looks up from his spot leaning against the couch, smiling at Peter reluctantly. They haven’t spoken since Steve told him about Tony, other than Steve texting him apologies. “Pizza is on its way too. Bucky thought this might be more fun, since we’re catching up and all.” He pulls a can of beer out and offers it to Peter. 

Peter hums and looks around the room. Bucky is on Steve’s right, talking to Sam on his other side. Rhodey is sitting on the curve of the circle next to Sam, on his phone, and there’s an empty space on his other side. Natasha is sitting on Steve’s left, half in Clint’s lap, who is next to her. Thor is on the other curve, talking to Bruce who’s next to him. Wanda and Vis aren’t here yet, and neither is Tony. He takes the beer and opens it, thanking Steve.

Not really wanting to talk to Rhodey or Bruce right now, he sits in the middle of the circle, surrounded by empty spaces, and smiles at Sam and Bucky. “Do you guys have your anth midterms back yet?” he asks across the coffee table, just to say something.

Bucky groans dramatically, leaning into Sam who’s put an arm around Bucky’s shoulder. “Why would you even bring that up?” he pouts.

Peter laughs, grabbing a chip and nibbling on it. “I’ve gotten all of my midterm grades back except for my intro to philosophy class. But I’m convinced he’s just high all the time and probably forgot he’s a professor anyway.”

Sam snorts at that, shaking his head fondly. “You have that class with Vis, right?”

Peter nods while taking another bite. “Yup. I don’t wanna ask him about it though, because he’ll start telling me about his answers and stuff. I’m only taking it for the humanities credit!”

Bucky grins at him. “You mean you don’t want to debate for hours who the better philosopher was between Aristotle and Plato?” 

Peter makes a face that gets the both of them laughing, and he scoots a bit closer to Rhodey so he’s more facing firmly in between the couple. “Half the time when Vis talks, I don’t know what the hell he’s talking about. Like I think he’s speaking English, but I’m just nodding along and hoping he doesn’t ask me what I think.”

“No one will make you feel more stupid than a philosopher,” Sam agrees lighthartedly. He takes a sip of his own beer. 

The door opens and Wanda walks in, pulling Vis with her by the hand. “Hello everyone!” she greets, and then smiles as she takes in the circle. “Oh, lovely!”

Bucky waves at them. “Hey Wanda, Vis. How’s it going?”

Vis chooses to sit next to Bruce, so Wanda sits next to him and leans into his side. “I’m good, but all my professors decided to assign a million assignments first week back from break.”

Bruce laughs, turning to face the couple. “Dr. Stephens actually gave us a whole packet he wants us to get done this weekend. Six pages full of stupid physics equations, just shoot me now.”

Wanda grins and looks over Vis to talk to him. “We should set up a time to work on it together,” she suggests. “When do you work?”

“You mean, so you can ask me questions and copy my answers,” he teases her, shaking his head fondly. “I work all day on Saturday, but I get off at 4:00 on Sunday.”

“Can I come over to your apartment around 5:00, then?” she asks with a cheeky smirk, not denying his accusation. She grabs a couple beers, passing one to Vis before taking a sip of her own. 

“Yeah, sounds good,” he grumbles, but laughs and leans back again. Peter can’t help but smile; his friends are all so…interesting. 

The door opens once more and Peter turns his attention to the last newcomer, smiling softly as Tony walks in. “Hey everyone!” Tony calls, walking in and smiling. He shuts the door behind him. “Caught the delivery guy on the way up, so I bring weed and pizza.”

The group whoops as a whole, and Tony sets the pizza boxes down in the middle of the coffee table, on top of the beers. Then he sits in between Peter and Rhodey, rummaging through his pockets before pulling out a blunt and lighter. “You wanna go first, Pete?” Tony asks, offering it to him. 

Peter doesn’t really smoke, and he thought Tony would know that by now. He’s eaten a special brownie once, but his trip was…not fun, to say the least. “Uh…”

“That’s your attempt to make up?” Rhodey hisses, soft enough it might have meant to not be overheard. “Give me that,” he says louder, shoving the blunt between his lips and shooting Tony a look. “Where’d you get the shiner anyway?” Peter thinks they must still be fighting themselves, if Tony hasn’t seen Rhodey all week. 

Tony blinks and looks from Peter to Rhodey, making an annoyed noise. “Got in a fight over break,” he says simply, and seems to start a silent conversation with Rhodey. 

“A fight?” Natasha asks, drawing attention away from them. “That doesn’t sound like a relaxing break. Who’d you get in a fight with, anyway?”

Thor snorts, grabbing a slice of pizza with one hand and keeping the other in his lap. “I’ll bet ten dollars I had the worst break.”

“Nah,” Bruce says, staring jealously at the still unlit blunt in Rhodey’s mouth. “I spent my whole break getting yelled at by my mother and working. You wanna know what I had for Thanksgiving dinner? A turkey sub from that place on 6th.”

Rhodey finally lights the blunt when Tony looks away, taking a long drag before passing it straight to Bucky who smirks at Sam before starting his own hit. “Don’t look at me, I had a great break. Food was great, my family is great.”

“My parents forgot I was coming home,” Vis pipes up, grabbing two slices of pizza and handing one to Wanda. “They apparently booked a trip to Hawaii. I spent the whole week alone, and I had stale chips for Thanksgiving dinner.” 

Bruce shoves Vis’s shoulder lightly, sticking his tongue out at him. “Fine, you beat mine.”

Bucky passes the blunt to Steve, and Steve takes a much longer hit than he normally does. He wheezes just a bit on the exhale, but passes it on to Nat without a coughing fit. “I almost wish my parents forgot about me. I spent the whole week lying through my teeth about my entire life.”

Bucky frowns, turning a bit to look at Steve. “What’re you lying to Sarah for?”

Steve groans, shooting him a playful glare. “What am I not lying to her about? My major, my religion, my relationship status…”

“Dude,” Bucky says, eyes wide. “You haven’t even told her you’re not seeing Peggy anymore? That was two years ago!”

Steve ducks his head. “She makes Ma happy,” he mumbles.

Clint is already passing the blunt onto Thor by the time Peter breaks the silence after that. “I had a good time to May. I came out to her,” Peter pipes up.

Tony beams and pats Peter on the shoulder. “Hey, congratulations!” he says. Peter smiles back at him, feeling more relaxed. He grabs himself a piece of pizza while the group choruses their own congratulations. 

“Where is pretty boy?” Nat asks, stealing the slice from Clint’s hand and taking a bite, much to his visible annoyance. 

“His frat is doing initiations or something, I don’t even know.” Peter rolls his eyes, but his smile is still in place. “Seems a bit late in the semester in my opinion, but whatever.”

Bruce finally gets his hands on the blunt and takes his time with it before passing it on to Vis. Wanda steals it and takes a smaller hit before giving it to back Vis, blowing the smoke out and humming. “I had a great time, I got to see my brother. We don’t do thanksgiving, though, so no dinner. I think Vis is still winning. Sorry, Steve.”

Vis hands Peter the blunt and grins, kissing her hair softly. “I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” he whispers into her hair. 

Peter stares at the blunt for a second, contemplating. “What about you, Bucky? Got any war stories?”

“Nah. Well-” he grins, turning to Sam. “I did have my life threatened. Thrice.”

Sam scoffs, finishing his bite of pizza and rolling his eyes. “Sure, but they bought you ice cream right after, so I don’t think you qualify for worst break.”

Bucky chuckles softly and leans in to connect their lips chastly, bumping their shoulders. “What about you, nothing to complain about?”

Sam smirks, eyes alight with joy. “Nope,” he says, popping the P. “Don’t get an ego about it, though.”

Steve shifts away from Bucky just a bit, playing with a loose thread coming out of his sweater. He looks so sad and pathetic, Peter thinks. 

Peter puts the blunt between his lips, gaining a gasp from a few people and making Steve look up to see what caused it. His eyes go wide, and Peter hopes he sees this as the peace offering it is. He takes a deep breath and immediately starts hacking up a lung, his face going bright red. 

“Amateur,” Bruce teases, grinning at Peter. “You’re fine, breathe through it.”

Tony takes the blunt from Peter and passes it to Rhodey, looking at him with concern and patting Peter’s back. “Jesus, Pete, right in the deep end, huh? You ever heard of baby steps?”

Peter flips him off, but leans into his touch so he knows he isn’t really mad. “My lungs are on fire,” Peter croaks. 

Natasha laughs, shaking her head fondly. “Virgin lungs,” she tsks. 

Peter takes a deep breath, coughing once more and clearing his throat. It still feels like it’s in his lungs, and he wants to get it out so bad. “Jesus. I don’t think I ever need to do that again.”

The rest of them start laughing, even Tony who still looks a little worried. 

“What about you two?” Rhodey asks, passing the blunt back to Bucky. “You haven’t told your horror stories yet, are you really gonna let Vis win?”

“Well Tony hasn’t gone yet, he just mentioned the fight,” Clint says. “And he’s our only hope, because me and Nat had a great time. I love Yelana, she’s such a little-”

“Angel,” Nat finishes, stealing the slice from his hand again. “But we did have a good time, so you better have had a terrible time, Tones.”

“Thanks,” Tony says drily, rolling his eyes. “I mean other than existing under the suffocation of daddy dearest, not really. I’d rather they had forgotten about me and fly to Italy or some shit, does that mean I win?”

 Vis hums. “I dunno, I would have rather spent the holidays with my family, even if they don’t particularly like me.”

“Tony wins,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “I’ve met his parents. He wins.”

Peter frowns, looking at Tony with sad eyes. Tony squirms and stands up suddenly, clearing his throat. “Where’s your bathroom, Barnes?”

“Down the hall,” Bucky says, pointing over his shoulder. 

Tony nods his thanks and heads that way, and somehow the blunt is back in Peter’s hand. “How’s it my turn again already?” 

“You spacing out there, Petey?” Wanda teases, grinning at him. 

Peter sticks his tongue out at her. “I’ve been high before. Once. It sucked.”

“Is it sucking this time?” Steve asks, smiling softly. 

Peter smiles back, and is happy that their little fight can just be behind them now. “Not yet, anyway. What do I do with this?”

Rhodey takes it from him. “Tony hasn’t had a hit yet, but normally you’d just put it out and leave it somewhere.”

“Well,” Tony says, sitting back down and sniffing. He grabs the blunt, holding it between his fingers. “Thor, you made the bet. Do you owe me ten dollars?”

Thor smirks, one arm hanging over Bruce’s shoulder. He shows off his other hand, covered in a bandage. “I’ll give you each one guess as to what happened.”

“You burned yourself taking out the turkey!” Nat pipes up, grinning from ear to ear. 

“Nope,” Thor smirks. “We don’t celebrate Thanksgiving.”

“You burned yourself cooking something else?” Clint asks.

“Nope!”

“You sprained your wrist jacking off,” Tony guesses, putting out the blunt. When did he take a hit? Peter doesn’t remember.

“Stark,” Thor says, scandalized. 

“You tripped down the stairs,” Bruce guesses.

“Nuh-uh.”

“You scraped it climbing a tree,” Rhodey says unenthusiastically.

“Not even close.”

“You slammed it in a car door,” Sam offers. 

“You slammed it in a regular door,” Bucky counters without waiting his turn.

“No and no.”

“You were the person Tony got that black eye from?” Steve offers, grinning.

“Rude,” Tony mumbles, rubbing his nose and grabbing a beer.

“No,” Thor laughs. “Closer, though.”

“You got in a fight with your brother,” Vis guesses.

“Closer,” Thor says, leaning foreword.

“Loki stabbed you because you annoyed him,” Wanda guesses, shrugging her shoulders.

“Closest!” Thor says, pointing at her. “I got stabbed by my secret sister I never knew about, because she killed a family while drunk driving and it broke up my father and her mother’s marriage.”

The room goes dead silent, and then Peter starts to giggle inappropriately. His giggles bring out everyone else’s slow laughter, until even Thor is holding his belly as he laughs about it. “Holy shit, Thor,” Peter says thorugh his giggles. “You win.”

“A secret sister?” Wanda asks, shaking her head. “Damn.”

“Wait, how old is your dad?” Nat asks, leaning her head on Clint’s shoulder and squinting at Thor. “If your dad started a whole new family after she was old enough to drive drunk?”

“Ancient,” Thor says, grinning. “He’s a lot older than my mom, like 12 years or something, and she was 35 when I was born. Loki was a miracle baby, she was 43.” 

“Can we play messiest family?” Clint asks, eyes sharp with mischief. “I think this could be fun.”

“Thor’s already won, though,” Bucky challenges. “What’s messier than a secret sister from your father’s secret first marriage?”

“Your parents were just teenagers, that’s a lot less messy. Messy, but less messy,” Natasha says, grinning at him. Bruce is staring at them, a sad look in his eyes. 

“My parents,” Peter starts, and then laughs as he realizes what he was about to say. Changes his mind, and instead says, “Are dead.”

Wanda starts to giggle hysterically, making Peter laugh as well. “Peter,” Wanda says, still giggling. “Most people don’t get that joke.”

“What joke?!” Bruce asks incredulously. But he’s looking at Peter now, so it worked out. “He just said a sad fact.”

Peter and Wanda both burst out laughing again, and the rest of the group slowly starts joining in, if only to diffuse the awkwardness. 

“You guys are fucking weird,” Steve says, shaking his head fondly. 

“Shit,” Tony whispers, making Peter turn to look at him. He quickly grabs a napkin and puts it to his nose. 

“Nose bleed?” Rhodey asks, and he has an expression on his face that Peter can’t really read. 

“It’s fine,” Tony mumbles, tilting his head back. 

“I had a nose bleed just the other day,” Thor says, looking at his beer in thought. “My mother said it was something to do with dry weather, but I thought that was one of those things moms make up.”

Clint snorts, pulling Nat more firmly into his lap. “Like an old wise tale?”

Sam barks a laugh. “Uh uh. What did you say?”

Clint frowns, narrowing his eyes. “What? An old wise tale.”

Sam snickers, and Bucky shakes his head fondly. “Wives’, Clint. An old wives’ tale.”

Clint’s jaw drops. “Shut up!” He says. “No, that doesn’t make any sense! It’s wise, as in wisdom.”

“No,” Steve says, a grin on his face. “No, an old wives’ tale means gossip, urban legend, superstitious. That type of thing.”

“‘S sexist,” Wanda mumbles. 

“Nuh uh, I don’t believe you,” Clint says, taking his phone out and jostling Nat. He looks it up, and gasps loudly. “No fucking way.” 

Everyone dissolves into a fit of giggles, and Peter feels mostly floaty, but a small part of him is too busy thinking about how this is the second nose bleed Tony has had in a week, that Peter knows of. He looks to Rhodey, who’s also looking suspiciously at Tony. When Rhodey looks up and sees Peter staring, he looks away and starts drinking more beer. 

Tony stands up, wiping his nose and sniffing once to test if it’s really over. “I’m gonna throw this away and wash my hands, anyone need anything while I’m up?”

Giggly ‘no’s are all he gets in response, so he leaves. Peter watches him go, forgetting why he was concerned but still feeling concerned. 

~

Peter sighs happily, putting his drink on the table before climbing onto his boyfriend. “I missed you,” he mumbles softly. 

Wade laughs, wrapping his arms around Peter’s waist. “You saw me like just a few hours ago,” he says playfully.

“Yeah, but I still missed you,” he pouts, kissing at Wade’s neck.

“Did you get high?” Wade asks, amusement in his voice. 

“Maybe,” Peter says, kissing up Wade’s neck and nibbling at his earlobe. “I had a little hit.”

Wade chuckles softly, moving one hand to rub up and down Peter’s back. “You said you don’t really do that,” Wade half asks. 

“Not really,” Peter agrees easily. “Listen, I seem to remember you promising to turn my legs into jelly.” He licks at the shell of Wade’s ear, earning a shiver. 

“Why did you decide to smoke?” Wade asks instead of responding, nuzzling Peter’s hair.

Peter pouts, kissing back down Wade’s neck. “We were just having fun. Everyone had dramatic ass stories from break and I just wanted to chill.”

“Yeah?” Wade asks, moving his free hand to rest on Peter’s hip. “What happened?”

Peter huffs in annoyance, starting to rock his hips into Wade’s. “Well, Thor got stabbed.”

Wade gasps, stilling Peter’s hips. “What?!”

“Yeah, he discovered he has a secret sister who killed a whole family or something and she stabbed his hand for some reason. He’s fine.” Peter whimpers softly, still trying to move his hips. “Wade, please!”

Wade laughs softly, kissing Peter’s hair. “That’s crazy, Pete. What else happened?”

Peter grunts, resting his head against Wade’s shoulder. “Well Bruce was all sad because Natasha and Clint are back together, and they went to her family’s house over break.”

“Why would that make Bruce sad?” Wade prompts.

Peter pulls back, scrunching his nose to showcase his displeasure. Wade only grins fondly, pushing some hair behind Peter’s ear. “Because he’s in love with Nat. They always fuck when she and Clint are off again, but it’s a secret so really I shouldn’t tell you.”

Wade’s eyes widen. “Damn.”

“Yeah, but that’s nothing,” Peter says, a smile starting to grow on his face. He doesn’t usually gossip, but it’s fun, apparently. “Steve’s in love with Bucky, but Bucky started to date Sam. And Sam took Bucky home over the break to meet his family!”

Wade blinks rapidly, shifting under Peter. “Steve is the one who slept with your best friend, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, but we made up. Me and Steve, and me and Tony. Tony apologized during class so we’re good now. But I think he might be getting sick or something, because he got a nose bleed.”

“A nose bleed?” Wade asks, grabbing Peter’s water and handing it to him. He doesn’t comment on the incoherency of that last story. 

Peter hums his thanks and takes a sip, and then nods. “Yeah, d’ya think that’s something to worry about? I don’t think I’ve ever had a nose bleed.”

“I get them sometimes, if the weather is bad,” he says, shrugging. “Your friends are…a bunch, aren’t they?”

Peter nods proudly, starting to giggle. He drinks more water and then hands it back to Wade. “It’s never boring, that’s for sure.”

Wade hums, moving his hands up Peter’s sides. “Are you feeling okay?”

“Yeah!” Peter says, smiling happily. He leans in and hovers his lips just above Wade’s. “You should fuck me.”

Wade laughs breathily, connecting their lips softly before pulling back just a bit. “You’re high,” he mumbles. He puts Peter’s water back down. 

“Yeah, and?” Peter asks, connecting their lips again. Wade allows it for a little bit, before pulling back again. Peter whines in annoyance. “Waaaade. At least lemme suck your dick.”

He earns a gasp out of his boyfriend, but only that. “I’ll fuck you extra tomorrow,” Wade bargains, nosing under Peter’s jaw and kissing there softly. 

Peter gasps and tilts his head back, cupping the back of Wade’s neck to keep him there. “What does that even mean?” he asks breathlessly, biting his lip.

Wade chuckles and kisses his neck more, ignoring the question. He turns the lamp off and moves the both of them on their sides, kissing Peter’s neck the whole time. 

“Feels good,” Peter gasps, holding onto Wade. 

“Yeah?” Wade whispers, moving his lips up to Peter’s jaw.

“Yeah,” Peter says, his eyes drooping as he starts to feel sleepier. “Don’t stop,” he mumbles.

“Won’t,” Wade says, his lips moving along his jaw. It feels good, and Peter is so happy and floaty, and he doesn’t even notice the way he slowly drifts off to sleep.

~

Tony scratches at his face, eyes twitching almost violently. He did way too much, he used twice as mich as he usually does. But he woke up with a headache and a crippling urge to use, and it’s Saturday so he has no where to be and no plans to keep, so he thought it was a good idea at the time.

Tony feels like his heart is going to beat out of his chest. He’s fucking stupid. He shouldn’t have done this. There’s so many things he shouldn’t have done. He shouldn’t have slept with Steve. He shouldn’t have hurt Peter with his words. He shouldn’t have ignored Peter. He shouldn’t have let Peter date Wade, he should have told Peter how he felt. And now he’s gone and fallen in love with Wade, they love each other, and Tony is stupid. 

He’s fucked up, he’s fucked everything up. He’s done irreparable damage to all of his relationships, all of his friends hate him, he’s going to die alone. 

He’s going to die, right now. His heart is going to give out, and he’s going to die in his apartment, all alone. How long will it take for anyone to even notice he’s dead? Is there anyone left who would care? Has he driven everyone who cares about him away?

He’s dying. He’s actively dying. He’s dying, and-

“Tony!” Rhodey yells, and when and how did he even get here? Rhodey looks angry-no. No, he looks scared. “Tony, please! Please, just breathe. You can’t hold your breath, man, you have to breathe.”

Tony gasps in a desperate breath, and immediately starts hyperventilating. He feels tears streaming down his face, and he can’t tell if it’s snot or blood that’s pouring out of his nose but he can’t breathe either way. “R-R…R-”

“Breathe,” Rhodey says, grabbing Tony’s hand and holding it to his chest. “Breathe, Tony. Like me. In…Out. Come on, Tones, you can do it. It’s a panic attack, you’ve had one before. It’s just a panic attack. Breathe with me. In…”

Tony is shaking. He’s shaking, and he doesn’t think that he can actually breathe like Rhodey wants him to. But he’s here, at least. He looks like he would care if Tony died right now. So he isn’t completely alone, at least. 

“You’re doing great, Tones. You’re breathing, see? You’re breathing. Keep doing it. In…out…With me, just like that. Good job. Keep breathing,” Rhodey says, using his free hand to cup the back of Tony’s neck. 

Tony sobs brokenly, his hands shakily coming up to hold onto Rhodey’s shirt. “Rhodey,” he croaks. He’s still shaking, still can’t breathe right. 

“I’m here,” Rhodey says, squeezing the back of Tony’s neck in a way that sends calm through him. “I’m right here. Keep breathing.”

Tony takes in the deepest breath yet, letting it out shakily, and then does it again. He does it five more times before Rhodey finally gives him a shaky smile, nodding once. “Rhodey…”

“We’re talking about it,” Rhodey says, an edge to his voice. “But we’re getting you cleaned up first, and you’re going to drink some water, and we’re waiting until you’re breathing evens out.”

Tony nods slowly, unable to keep eye contact. He lets Rhodey clean his face up with some tissues first and then washes his face with water, careful not to let it splash all over his front. Then Rhodey hands him a water bottle and Tony takes slow sips from it until it’s half gone.

“Better?” Rhodey asks, once they’re sitting on one of Tony’s couches. 

Tony nods, running his thumb along the lid of the bottle. “I’m sorry, Rhodey,” he whispers softly, looking up with tears in his eyes. He doesn’t want to let them fall anymore, though. “I’m sorry. Not just for-for this. For today.”

Rhodey lets out a shaky breath, and puts a hand on Tony’s knee. “You’re a fucking asshole, Tony,” he starts, shaking his head. “But you’re my asshole. You’ve been my best friend forever, and short of trying to kill me personally, there’s nothing you could do to change that, okay? I’ll always be here. I’ll always forgive you.”

Tony feels one tear push over the edge, and the mix of guilt and pure, unadulterated love courses through him. No one has ever loved him like this, other than Rhodey. Not his parents; that’s a fucking joke. He would say Ana and Jarvis, but they were paid to be there, and they wouldn’t have been if they weren’t getting paid. Rhodey is the only one who loves him this way, unconditionally and without incentive. “Rhodey-” he starts, chokes.

Rhodey smiles and shakes his head, squeezing Tony’s knee. “I know. And the way you feel right now, the words you can’t say out loud? That’s why. That’s why I stay. I know, Tony.”

Tony puts his own hand over Rhodey’s, holding it shakily. He wants to be able to say it anyway, but he doesn’t have words to express the way he feels. Maybe one day he will. For now, he’s just going to trust that Rhodey is telling the truth and he knows what Tony feels. “I don’t deserve you,” he says instead.

Rhodey sighs dramatically, tilting his chin up-but his smile is still there. “I know,” he says. At Tony’s laugh, he turns back to Tony and nods. “Okay. Now we talk about it.”

“I…how long were you there, before I noticed you?” Tony asks. 

“A few minutes. Enough to hear something about Peter, fucking everything up, and how you’re going to die,” Rhodey supplies. 

Tony winces and then sighs, looking to his lap. “I slept with Steve,” he starts, and can’t fight his smile when Rhodey chokes. “I know, bad decision. Probably gonna do it again.”

“Do-do not-Tony!” Rhodey chokes, half incredulous and half highly amused. “What the fuck is wrong with you? Steve Rogers?! Perhaps the only living person left on this entire planet more emotionally constipated than you?”

Tony barks a laugh, looking up at Rhodey with a shaky smile. His high is already starting to wear off, and he hates it. “I dunno, honeybear, I think Bruce might be up there. And Clint.”

“Nuh uh, they’re stupid,” Rhodey says, shaking his head. “They know how they feel, and they can talk about it. They just keep staying in the situation anyway. You can’t even talk about your feelings, or even label them most of the time.”

“Shut up,” Tony grumbles, wiping his cheek from the wetness. “Whatever. It was a mistake, I shouldn’t have done it. He came to my apartment all upset because he saw Barnes kissing Wil-Sam, and I was upset because Peter is always kissing Wade, and…I dunno.”

Rhodey sighs, shaking his head and crossing his arms over his chest. “Jesus Christ, Tones.”

Tony shrugs, sniffling and rubbing under his nose. “And then he went and blabbed about it to Peter, of all fucking people-” Rhodey whips his head around to look at Tony, eyes wide. “Yeah, I know. What the fuck was he thinking? Whatever, doesn’t matter. He told Peter, and so Peter came to my apartment like a week later or something, right before we all left for break. And he started saying all this stuff about how I hate him, and he just wants me to tell him what he did wrong so he could apologize, and I…I…”

Rhodey narrows his eyes. “What did you say?”

Tony pulls at his fingers nervously. “Okay, I admit to being the most emotionally constipated person on earth.”

“What did you do, Tones?” Rhodey asks, sounding tired and wary.

Tony scratches the back of his neck. “Well, what I meant to say was that I’m no good for him, that my life is hell and he shouldn’t touch it with a ten foot pole. That I want to love him and be in a relationship with him, that I’m not only interested in fucking him.”

“But you didn’t say that,” Rhodey guesses. 

“No. I…” Tony groans and puts his head in his hands. “It’s so much worse now that I’ve had time to think about it!”

“Tony…”

“I said I’m not allowed to date him because I’m expected to marry a rich heiress and have a bunch of pretty babies to carry on my family name,” Tony says quickly, letting out a shuddery breath at the end.

“Tony,” Rhodey says, scandalized. 

“He said, ‘What a relief to find out that you don’t hate me, you just think I’m a worthless nobody!’” Tony leans back on the couch, rubbing a hand down his face. “And I didn’t know how to tell him that he’s the…that he…fuck,” Tony shakes his head, still not able to find the right words. “It’s the wrong way ‘round. I’m the worthless one, he’s the one that’s too good. Way too fucking good for me.”

“Tony,” Rhodey starts, changes his mind. He rubs a hand down his own face, before shaking his head. “I’m not going to sugar coat it, Tones. You fucked that one up. You’re lucky he forgave you.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles, rubbing under his nose before pulling his knees to his chest.

They let the silence sit for a while, but then Rhodey sighs. “Are we going to talk about your newest problem?”

Tony winces, resting his chin on his knees. “Dad hit me,” he says softly, and hears Rhodey shift to face him. “Told me I that if I was going to disappoint him by doing drugs, I could at least choose one that makes me productive so I’ll be a little less worthless for an hour at a time.”

Rhodey’s hand clenches into a fist on his thigh, and his jaw works. “If I could get away with it-”

“He’s right, though,” Tony says, digging his fingers into his legs to help him not cry. “It makes me a lot more productive. More sociable. I’ve managed to not massively piss anyone off for a whole week, that’s a new record.” His voice fails him at the end, turning the joke more sad than he wanted it to be. “All my assignments are done and turned in, I’m sure my professors suspect something,” that jokes lands better, pulling a pity laughs from Rhodey. “I feel better, when I’m on it. Usually. Happier.”

“It’s not really happiness,” Rhodey argues softly. He puts a hand on Tony’s shoulder, squeezing gently. “And it’s dangerous.”

“I know,” Tony mumbles sadly. “But I don’t want to stop yet. I need…I need to know I won’t drown, when I stop. I need to know I’ll be okay after. I can’t…I don’t want to feel that low again, when I was on break. Right after he hit me, and I thought Peter hated me and you hated me and everyone else was going to hate me soon.” He looks to Rhodey, his heart pounding for a new reason. “I don’t wanna feel that way again. I felt like…like there wasn’t a reason to keep going.”

Rhodey’s hand tightens on Tony’s shoulder, and his breathing starts to quicken. “Tony-”

“I’m not-” Tony shakes his head, taking a deep breath. “I’m not going to- do that. I just…I don’t want to feel like it, even if I won’t do anything about it.”

“You need to talk to someone,” Rhodey whispers softly. 

Tony smiles sadly, pushing his shoulder more into Rhodey’s hand. “That’s what you’re for, sourpatch. Free therapy.”

“Tony,” Rhodey warns, a lecture on the tip of his tongue.

“I’m Howard Stark’s kid, I don’t get to go to therapy. I buck up and bury my feelings. It’s the Stark way,” he says sadly, shrugging. “I’ll figure it out, eventually. I’ll be fine.”

Rhodey rubs at his face, shaking his head. Then he sighs, squeezing Tony’s shoulder once more. “Okay. Okay, Tones. But you have to call me if you’re feeling like this again, okay? I don’t care what time it is, and I don’t care how sure you are that you aren’t going to do anything. You call me.”

Tony feels that surge of warmth again, and nods his agreement. “Promise.”

Rhodey lets him go, leaning back in the chair and staring into the distance. After what feels like the most comfortable silence they’ve shared in a long time, and scoffs “Steve Rogers?”

“Shut up,” Tony laughs, crossing his arms over his chest. “He’s stupid and annoying, but he’s also hot as fuck.”

Rhodey shoots him an unimpressed look. “You fuck hot people all the time, you couldn’t find a different one?”

Tony sighs and leans back, letting his head fall to the back of the couch. “I’m gonna do it again, too. I just know it.”

Rhodey scoffs again, scratching at his cheek. “You are hands down, by far, the most self destructive person I’ve ever met.”

Tony smiles sadly, but then it disappears and he turns to Rhodey with genuine anxiety. Enough to make Rhodey tense. “But you’ll always be here to pick up the pieces,” he whispers, somehow able to keep it from sounding like a question. 

Rhodey sighs, but he nods. “Always, Tones.”

[glittertimes]

I shouldn’t have to actively fight to not get addicted to things! Like why are things that are addictive so easily accessible to me!

[bunnyb34r]

I know I have a severe case of dematillomania and trichotillomania bc I think ab getting surgical tools like multiple times a year when I have a particularly stubborn DEEP hair

[lilac-melody]

hm.

[mariemariemaria]

i really need to cut out refined sugar

[didyme-bucciarati]

Day One of ???

Synopsis: Jotaro Kujo gets drunk and heads to the roof. He hallucinates his long lost loves voice.. Mostly Hurt Little Comfort. Result of a random prompt generator generating (Hallucinations on a Roof.)

January 3rd 1991.

A sound minded Jotaro knew he shouldn't have come up here. A sound minded Jotaro knew he shouldn't have drank this much Fireball. But here he was two liters in and thirty two floors up. On top of the roof of his college dormitory.

There wasn't very many students left on campus only the freshman, students who couldn't afford to leave. He was the prior.

Jotaro Kujo was someone everyone wanted to be with or be. Well everyone but Jotaro himself. He was a Honor Student in Marine Biology at an IVY league school. He had his fair share of women and men alike throwing themselves at him.

The more he drank the closer he got to the edge of the rooftop. Until eventually he was sitting on the ledge with only three fingers left of his spicy drink.

"Jojo what are you doing out here dressed like that? It's only 5°c out here. You'll catch your death." The voice of a long gone cherry haired friend says.

"It's only fair then. Hmm? That I catch my death out here. Alone in the cold far away from my parents." He says knowing that this was just one of his lucid dreams.

"Oh how the mighty have fallen. Kujo Jotaro. Once a fierce foe. Now just a little bitch who would rather drink away his liver instead of living in the real world." Another voice taunts the college student. This voice was one he was much less excited, but far more familiar with hearing.

"It must sting then to know that a little bitch such as myself was able to destroy tHe GrEaT aNd MiGhTy DiO." He taughted back.

"C'mon Jojo let's get you back to your room." Noriaki's voice says as a set of hands comes into the mournful man's view.

"No Kakyoin. Leave me be. I'm not done with my drink yet." He says as he gently fights against the arms.

"Your in a wife beater and a pair of very thin looking pants. Get up. You know I'm not strong enough to hall your ass back to your room. So just get up on you own." The owner of the pair of arms states.

"I shouldn't have let you come with me to Egypt at all! You said you wanted to show me your appreciation for saving you from Dio and to get your own revenge on him. I should have told you to eat a dick. Or something I would have said to someone back then. Told you you were too week. Or something. If I did that you'd be here still."

"It isn't your fault Jojo." Noriaki says. "I would have still followed. You think a few cruel words would have been enough to keep me from following you? After you ripped that flesh bud out from me, I swore to myself that I'd follow you till the end of the earth. And let nothing stand in-between me and my goal."

"I should have sent you home when you got hurt. I shouldn't have let you continue with us. I was naïve and foolish. I didn't think that we could loose."

"and we didn't! because of you! You saved everyone by ended the worlds reign of terror."

"Not you! I didn't save everyone. I lost the one person in this world that mattered to me most. You, Nori! If I was this gReAt hero that you and the Speedwagon foundation make me out to be then how come we had to bury you?!" The young adult screamed.

"There is not a single thing that I would change Jotaro. My death was inevitable. It was determined along time ago when and how I would die."

"Noriaki... I can't do this anymore. It's been one year."

"Distants makes the heart grow fonder as the poets say. Ill be waiting for you on the other side. But you have to keep living. Get married have children. Live and Love. Like you would want me to."

"I can't do that. Not without you! I should have had the balls to tell you back then. But I can't live and love on. When my heart already belongs to you. I love you Noriaki Kakyoin. And I was a damned fool to have never voiced it."

"Something's don't need to be said Jojo. I knew that you loved me. I knew that I loved you too. But you need to put down the bottle and go back to your room."

"It should be you. Surrounded by friends and family attending an IVY league college in America."

"Don't throw away your own life reg..." Noriaki's voice was drowned out by the other voice.

"Jotaro, Seriously don't make me drag you off the ledge and back to your room. I will if you keep talking to yourself and saying depressing ass shit. I mean I get it your sad. Everyone is sad. So, Tough Titty, don't be a bitch. Everyone has there own shit. Just deal with it. C'mon man." The voice says as the arms latched around the hulking mans waist and yanked him closer to the center of the floor.

"Bitch, what was that for?" He demanded. But the other person didn't humor him with a response.

"Go with her Jotaro. Love her Jotaro. Love her like you once loved me." Noriaki says.

"She isn't you Nori." Jotaro says but got no response.

"Noriaki?" He asked but got no response.

"This isn't funny Kakyoin Please talk to me."

"Let's go Jotaro. I can't stand to be out here for another minute." The woman says as she helps him to his feet and helps walk him back to his room. "Oh and by the way Jotaro. If you ever say depressing ass shit again I'm going to punch you in the face. No joke I'm going to full on sock you with all my might."

(Dividers credit: @uminozerol)

[floraleevee]

Ugh this weekend was a good reminder of why I cut back on drinking. It’s been well over 24 hours and my anxiety is still through the roof.

[gojorgeous]

"MINE, MINE, MINE."

pairing: alpha!geto x omega!fem!reader summary: your doctor won’t refill your prescription until you’ve reset your cycle. you’re desperate for that refill, but geto’s not having it. content: MDNI (18+ ONLY), a/b/o dynamics, nsfw, dubcon? (reader doesn’t want a heat but it’s medically necessary (LMAO what)), established relationship, unprotected sex, breeding, praise, pet names, knotting, slight manipulation, dacryphilia, somnophilia, spit, blood, oral (fem!receiving), so much licking and smelling?, geto and reader are just downright feral LMAO, lmk if i missed anything. a/n: have y’all figured out that i have a breeding kink yet… anyway, this is the first a/b/o fic that i’ve ever written but i just read one and was feeling *inspired*. if people want i might do a prequel sort of thing for this that goes more in-depth about how they met and stuff. lmk! also, i have a vampire gojo fic planned hehe get ready bbs. if you want more of my omegaverse fics check out my alpha!gojo fic here! and remember, AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED! divider credit to: @cafekitsune wc: 5.2k

“No.” 

No? You shift in your seat, cold and plastic, sure you must have heard him wrong. 

“I’m sorry?” you ask. You press your tongue to the roof of your mouth, an anxious habit.

“I can’t refill the prescription. I’m sorry, but, frankly, it would be completely irresponsible of me to do so. I’m shocked your previous physician prescribed them for so long.” Fingers find yours and twine them together. Your eyes flash to Geto, but he’s only staring at your new doctor, staring with that furrow in his brow he only gets when he’s worried.

Your new, soon-to-be old, doctor sighs again, running a hand through his thinning white hair. “You need to have a heat as soon as possible, allow your body to recalibrate. Indefinite use of suppressants is dangerous and unhealthy. They are meant to manage your cycles, not stop them altogether.” 

Sweat beads on your palms. He can’t be serious. But it’s his first opinion. Surely there’s another option.

“I-I’m sorry, doctor. I don’t think I’m understanding.” 

Another glance at Geto reveals that he’s frowning now. When his eyes find yours you see the decision there, one he’s already made without you. Your stomach drops.

The doctor sighs and suddenly the walls of the office feel small, tight, suffocating. The twinge of alcohol and chemicals in the air makes your nose scrunch. “Let me say this clearly. I will not refill your prescription for suppressants, nor will any other reputable physician. You have been taking them continuously for far too long. You risk permanent damage should you delay a proper cycle any longer.” The doctor glances to Geto, then back to you. “Go home with your alpha and allow nature to take its course. It’s what’s best.” 

Your eyes widen with realization– you are not leaving this office with what you came for. Your heart pounds and your palms sweat. “Th-that can’t happen, doctor. I need my suppressants. My job- I can’t be out that long a-and Geto can’t either, we–” 

“We will go home,” Geto interrupts, and his tone is final. “Thank you, doctor, for the advice.” 

Geto pulls you to your feet, gently but firmly. He leaves no question about the fact that you’re leaving. You can feel the intensity radiating off him in waves. You ignore it. You turn to your new doctor, silently smiting him. Why did your old one have to retire?

“Doctor, you don’t underst–” 

“Thank you again,” Geto interrupts.

Before you can make another sound, another protest, Geto pulls you through the door, out of the office, and back to the car. He opens the door for you, as he always does, except this time you’re not so eager to accept his chivalry. 

“Suguru,” you bite out. His eyes meet yours, but they are surprisingly gentle. So calm. How is he always calm? 

“Just get in, baby. We’ll talk about it in the car.”

You debate saying no, but you can’t bring yourself to start a fight when he’s being so good. You grumble when you climb in, buckling your seatbelt before Geto can do it for you.

The engine revs to life, but you hardly notice. You’re already scrolling your phone, the search bar reading a simple and straightforward “doctors offices near me”. You scroll right past the first ten, for once in your life wanting a doctor that’s a little sketchy. You scroll further– still not sketchy enough. Someone who’ll give you the prescription you need, even if it’s not necessarily… ethical. Or maybe you could get some on the street? Surely there was some kind of dealing ring for that. There was a dealing ring for everything, right?

“What are you doing?” His voice is soft, but his fingers are tight around the steering wheel, skin stretched tight across his knuckles.

You lift your phone to your ear, dialing the first office that looked relatively shitty enough. “Getting a second opinion,” you answer. 

Suguru plucks the phone so swiftly from your fingers that you hardly even notice it’s gone. You see him end the call and slip it into his back pocket, out of your reach. 

“Hey!” You scramble across the center console, hopelessly grabbing at your lost phone, your last hope. 

Suguru grabs your wrist, restraining you far too easily for your liking. “You’re not getting it back,” he says. His eyes never leave the road. 

Your brows pinch and anger boils in your stomach. “This is not for you to decide. It’s my body.”

He glances at you, unconcerned. Still calm. “And you’re not in a headspace to be making a responsible decision about it, so I’m making it for you.”

Your jaw drops and you pry your wrist free of his grasp. You escape, but you know it’s only because he allows it. “I am of perfectly sound mind, thank you.” 

He shakes his head and sighs. “You’re blinded by desperation.” 

“It’s still not for you to decide!” When you don’t notice any change in his expression, you switch tactics– from anger to honesty. You let your face fall, let your true feelings creep through. “You know how much I hate it, Su.” 

Finally, he cracks. It’s instantaneous, the way he melts for you- the way the soft smile finds his lips and his hand finds yours, twining your fingers together. “I know, but you have to, baby. You heard the doctor.” 

You clench your jaw and avoid the sting of tears behind your eyes. You had heard the doctor, but you weren’t ready. Maybe next month, when you’d had more time to mentally prepare. 

Your skin crawled. You hated it, hated this. You hadn’t had a heat in years, avoiding them like the plague. You hated how vulnerable they made you, how they put you at the mercy of another. It wasn’t that you didn’t trust Suguru– you did. You trusted him more than anyone, anything, but you still hated the feeling of being so completely helpless, so completely out of control, even if it was Suguru you were submitting to. 

For most of your life, you’d successfully hidden your omega status. With the help of suppressants, you’d passed as a beta until your early twenties. Then you met Geto. 

You’d met at work. He was cute, beautiful even, you’d thought, but he screamed alpha– and alphas could be dangerous, especially for hiding, unclaimed omegas like you. You’d stayed away as long as you could and, for a while, you were quite successful. You avoided him in the halls, sat at the opposite end of the table in meetings, replied to emails succinctly but politely. All was well until you’d been trapped in an elevator with him one morning, biting your lip anxiously as you waited to reach the twelfth floor. He’d smelled so good that day, perhaps due to an oncoming rut. You hadn’t been able to resist inching closer, taking deeper breaths. Suguru would later tell you that he’d suspected your hidden status, but he had no reason to question you. At least, not until he had you up against the elevator wall with his face buried in your neck. One deep whiff was all he’d needed to know exactly what you were, even with suppressants in your system.

You’d dated for a little over a year, until you’d decided he was the one. Your fingers dust over the mate mark on your throat, the one that had not only made you undoubtedly Suguru’s, but also the one that had revealed to the world exactly what you were. There was no hiding your true identity with an alpha’s scarred mark on your neck. 

Suguru had never seen you through a heat– no one had. You’d taken your suppressants daily, ever since you met him and even long before that. He’d claimed you on a day like any other, no heat necessary. He hadn’t had a rut in all these years, either. When he felt one coming on all he had to do was pop a single pill and all was well– apparently with none of the nasty side effects that came along with your suppressants. Another unfair privilege of being an alpha you supposed. 

“Sugu, I can’t do this.” Your lip is raw from how much you’ve been chewing on it by the time you reach home. 

Suguru softly shuts the door behind you, lifting your twined hands to his lips, gently kissing your knuckles. 

“Yes you can. I know you can.” 

You shake your head. He doesn’t understand– doesn’t know what this will do to you, how it will break you. While you hadn’t had a heat in years, you had experienced them before. You loathed them more than anything, loathed the way your mind was a slave to your body and not the other way around, loathed the way your whole body pulsed and throbbed, loathed the way it made you feel so… weak. “I can’t. It’s-it’s-” Your hands come up to cover your face. You sigh and feel the blush crawling beneath your cheeks. “It’s embarrassing. Humiliating.” 

There’s silence for a moment, and then a soft sight. Suguru pries your hands from your face gently. When you meet his eyes, he’s all business.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about, baby.” 

You shake your head and pull away, pacing. “I don’t want anyone to see me like that, Sugu. Not even you.” 

Strong hands catch your waist, holding you still. “It’s not a question. It’s happening– for the sake of your health.” 

You scoff and shake your head. “It’s not–” 

His thumb presses to your lips with just enough pressure to demand silence. The omega in you coos to listen, to submit– the other part of you reels with annoyance.

“End of discussion.” 

He’s closer now and you can feel waves of his breath skating across your skin. It’s like a drug, one that the primal side of you can never get enough of. Give in, give in, give in, your omega begs. Listen to your alpha… You try not to focus on the fact that he smells good enough to eat. You know what he’s doing– using his dynamic to persuade you, to make you see his way, playing to the omega you can usually hide so carefully.

“Sugu…” you say. You intend to be angry but you trail off when his eyes catch yours. 

“I got you, baby.”

Your heart melts at the words. He waits. Maybe he knows that the smell of his skin on yours is playing tricks on your mind. You wage a battle within. Every instinct urges you to agree and with every passing second it becomes harder to disagree. Perhaps he’s right, perhaps it's time you give in for once. Let him take care of you, your omega purrs. You’re nodding before you realize what you’ve done.

Suguru kisses you quickly, allowing no time for takebacks. When he pulls away he gets to work. He whips his phone from his pocket and you listen to him talking to his boss, your boss, saying that you’ll both be out of work for a week on “family” leave. Your face heats when you realize that your boss now knows exactly what you two are going to be doing for the foreseeable future. Suguru kisses you one last time before he’s out the door, off to get enough food and supplies to last a week. You won’t be leaving your apartment for some time. You don't fail to notice that he doesn’t return your phone before he’s gone.

~

You don’t notice a difference, even after the sun is gone. It’s not surprising, considering you usually take your suppressants at night– it’ll take a little while longer for them to fully exit your system… you hope. When you’re brushing your teeth you stare at the empty prescription bottle longingly. 

You join Suguru in bed. The moment you crawl onto the mattress he pulls you closer into his bare chest. You savor the way your bodies fit so perfectly- like he was meant for you and you alone. His front curls around your back, a leg slotted between your thighs. 

“Feel anything?” he asks. 

You shake your head to hide your swallow. You almost shiver when Suguru buries himself in your neck, inhaling your scent. You feel him harden against your backside. He must be able to smell your approaching heat even before you can. Part of you expects instinct to take hold of him, for him to make a move, but he only presses a kiss to your jaw and holds you tighter. 

“Sleep, baby.” 

For once, you follow orders without a fight.

–

Hot. Too hot. 

When your eyes flutter open, you feel the pounding of your heart, the labor of your breath, and the growing ache between your legs. 

You sit up so fast you see stars, panic flooding your veins. No, no, no, no, no. This was wrong, you’d made the wrong choice. You couldn’t do this. Already, you could feel control slipping from your grasp, your consciousness giving way to something more primal, more feral. You scramble, preparing to stand, to find your phone, to lock yourself away and suffer through this on your own.

“Deep breaths, baby.” 

Only then do you realize Suguru is already awake. He’s behind you, hands on your shoulders, both a comfort and a restraint. 

“Can’t-” Your breaths are ragged and so are your words. “Can’t do this, Sugu-” 

“Yes, you can.” He whispers. He pulls you closer, tighter against him. “You will.” 

You shake your head frantically, tears pooling on your lashes. When you turn, Suguru is staring at your neck, at the mate mark on your throbbing pulse. His jaw is clenched when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. He’s restraining himself, you realize. A glance down reveals he’s already painfully hard in his pants. You wonder how long he’s been sitting there, taking in your scent, waiting for you to wake. No doubt his rut has already been triggered.

His eyes raise to yours and he pauses at the tears that leak down your cheeks. He leans closer, and the scent emanating from his neck makes you groan against your will. His kisses away the tears. Slowly, one at a time. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” he whispers. “I’ve got you.” 

Your body pulls him closer, even as your mind pushes back. “My phone, Sugu,” you panic. “Gotta gimme my phone. C-call a new doctor.” 

He shakes his head and when you start to squirm he only holds you tighter, holds you in place. 

“No, baby.” 

You whimper, seeking the scent gland on his neck against your will. The smell makes your clit throb almost painfully. 

“Sugu, please,” you cry. Tears stream from your eyes, staining your lover’s skin. 

“‘S gonna be okay. Just let it happen. Don’t fight it, love.” 

With each passing moment, you feel your fight slipping further and further away. Suguru rubs at the muscles in your back until you’re slumped against him, pitifully moaning like a wounded animal. It’s not long before your body takes the reins, until you start desperately humping at his thigh, your clit throbbing almost painfully. 

“That’s it. Good girl.” 

Your eyes roll back at the praise and when Suguru grips your waist you cry out at the touch. Everywhere his skin meets yours feels electric. You’re burning, burning, burning. It’s not until Suguru lays you down on your back that you see the sopping patch of slick you’ve left on his thigh. You whimper at the sight. 

“‘S okay, baby. ‘Ve got you.”

Suguru is looking nearly as lost to the lust as you are. Only his willpower and intent keep him from shredding away your panties and breeding your cunt full that very second. He’s never been in the presence of a scent so intoxicating. He’s never been with you, or any omega, through a heat. He thought you smelled amazing before, but now… He is lost to you, lost to the heat he feels emanating from every inch of your skin, to the honeyed scent pouring from your neck, to the slick he sees staining through your panties. His dick twitches in his pants. 

“Love you so much, baby. Gonna take such good care of ya,” he whispers. Instinct drives him forward until he’s plastered his lips to your jaw, licking and biting at the skin. You nearly scream at the sensation. You feel his touch everywhere, all at once. With your last coherent thoughts you know that this heat will be unlike any other you’ve ever experienced. It’s already so intense you can hardly think, and you’ve only just begun.

“Sugu,” you plead. 

The sound of his name on your lips breaks him. His hand dips across your stomach, thumbing past the edge of your panties until he’s running his finger through your slit, gathering your slick and rubbing it against your clit. 

You scream and thrash, so sensitive it nearly hurts, but he only moves to pin you beneath him, forcing you to take everything he gives. 

“Gonna make you feel ‘s good, baby.” he hums. He’s lost to you, to your desires, to your needs. Every piece of him screams to please you, to take care of you, in every way possible.

He continues his messy circles on your clit and until you’re gasping, hole clenching around nothing, begging to be filled. 

“S-Sugu…” you whine.

The growl that rips from his throat has you arching your back and bearing your throat in an act of submission. You hear a tear and watch your panties hit the floor. Your shirt follows and then you’re completely bare beneath your alpha. His eyes go black at the sight, pupils blown so wide you can hardly see a smidgen of their usual brown. There’s a deep rumble in his chest that has you keening and reaching for him, needing him. He doesn’t waste time. His tongue finds your neck, laving sloppily at your scent gland and the sensation is so delicious that you writhe beneath him. 

His fingers slide down your stomach, dipping between your thighs and rubbing at your clit. The touch is somehow gentle despite the complete and total hunger in his eyes, but it has you whining nonetheless. Every place he touches you, which is nearly everywhere, stings so delightfully that your eyes are already rolling back.

But you can’t wait. You can’t. Your body is starved, rabid, and you know what you need.

“Ssssugu… please…” your words are hardly above a whisper, barely a breath, but your alpha still hears you, still knows what you want, what you need. 

“I got you, baby… shhhhh…” He gives a final lick to your scent gland before he’s leaning back on his knees, parting your thighs wide, exposing your leaking cunt. You can feel a puddle of slick beneath your ass, your hole clenching desperately around nothing, aching to be filled. 

Warm hands slide up your skin and settle on your hips, tugging you a little further down the bed. You whimper, but don’t have time to say anything before you feel him slipping through your folds. A glance down reveals his weeping tip, achingly flushed, bumping and rubbing against your clit. When did his pants come off? You don’t know, you don’t care, all that matters is that the sight steals your breath away. 

“Gonna knot you good, princess.” 

You nod, wanting nothing more than for him to make good on his promise. You claw and grip at his arms, chanting his name endlessly. His chest rumbles again and your thighs part further on instinct. Finally, he gives you what you want. You feel him pressing in, fat tip stretching you wide. One of his hands moves to press down on your tummy and the combination has tears pooling in your eyes. 

He slides in slowly. With every inch you think he must be done, that you can’t take any more. But you can, and you do. When he’s finally fully in your jaw is hanging open in ecstasy and your eyes are rolled back in your skull. His fingers brush your clit and your hips jerk. 

“That’s it. So good, baby. So fucking good.” 

Your tears flood over, racing down your cheeks. He’s over you again, loose strands of black hair brushing your skin and forcing a whimper from your throat. He licks away your tears, lapping at your cheeks like you’re a fucking lollipop. His hips start thrusting in time with his licks, and it’s more than you can handle. Your thighs tremble and suddenly you’re begging. Pleading, whining, screaming for more. He gives it to you. One hand finds yours, twining your fingers together as he pounds into you so hard he’s rattling your skull. He’s licking at your scent gland again, driving you further and further toward a cliff you’re afraid to fall from. You think this orgasm might shatter you, might break you so thoroughly you’ll never be put back together again. You can feel it tightening at your core with each thrust, each lick, each kiss. 

“Fuck,” you hear him growl and whimper at the sound of his voice so close to your ear. “‘M gonna bite you, princess. Gonna mark you up and knot you so good you’ll see fucking stars.” You pant beneath him, unable to word how excited you are by his words, how deliciously they roll across your skin and seep into your spine. “Tell me you didn’t take your pill, baby. Tell me I can breed this pussy full and it won’t go to waste.” He’s not talking about your suppressants you know, but rather the contraceptives you take in tandem with them. Of course you took it, but suddenly something makes you wish you hadn't. “‘M gonna flush ‘em down the fucking toilet. Never letting you take that shit again.”

The primal part of you surges forward at the idea. It chants deep in your mind. Yes, yes, yes…

“Suguuu… please…” It seems like those are the only words your tongue can form.

His lips press to yours, shushing you. “Shhh, baby. Don’ worry. I got you.” He licks across your cheek and down across your jaw until he finds your scent gland again. His thrusts pick up again and you think you might pass out from how good you feel, from how tight your muscles are coiling. You can feel his knot pulsing inside you, preparing to fill you to the brim. You’ve never felt more ready for anything. 

“Sugu–” 

And it’s at that moment that he makes good on his promise. His teeth sink into your neck and you feel your bond snap taut like a string, pulsing with the closeness of your connection. It’s pure ecstasy. Suguru’s knot swells, notching tightly inside you and when you feel his cum pulsing into your womb it’s all too much. You think you must be screaming from the pleasure but you only hear the ringing in your ears as your orgasm washes over you. Your muscles clench, your toes curl, your back arches, you see those stars Suguru promised. Heat tingles through your limbs and down your spine and you think you’ve probably just melted into the mattress. But you haven’t, and when your vision returns, you’re panting and staring at the ceiling. 

Suguru is above you and you can feel him still cumming, still releasing rope after rope of thick, hot cum into you. The sensation makes you groan and he laps at your neck, cleaning up the blood from the new mark he’s just given you. Your consciousness trickles back in, the primal piece of you partially sated for the time being. You remember the context of your situation, why you’re here and not at work, what you’re doing. You’re puzzled by why you’d been so panicked by the idea of a heat before. How could you have been so reluctant, so scared, when nothing has ever felt this right?

Suguru is peppering you with kisses now, pulling you tight to his chest and rolling you both onto your sides where you’ll stay until his knot softens. 

“Sleep, princess,” he says and he uses that tone that always compels you to listen, to please. You happily do as he says and when your eyes drift shut it’s not long before you’re lost to a world of comfortable darkness. 

~

You wake to the throbbing again. All of the pent up need Suguru had sated has returned with a vengeance. You need him again, but it appears he already knows that. 

You feel him between your legs, his hair fully loose now and tickling the insides of your thighs. He’s eating you out, slurping up the cum that’s leaking down your thighs and spitting it back onto your cunt. It’s filthy, disgusting, and you love it.

“Sugu–” you gasp and your hips buck. His eyes lock with yours and the smile he gives you nearly makes you come on the spot. He holds your gaze as he licks one last long stripe over your folds. You whimper and clench around nothing. Empty, empty, empty…

“Sorry, baby,” he whispers against your skin. He’s kissing his way up your body now, leaving little circles of spit that cool when they touch the air and make you shiver. “‘Y smelled so good…” 

You whine and whimper, clawing at his back and leaving scratches you think might draw blood. You’re too worried about getting him inside of you to check.

You’re gasping like you’ve never had a breath of air in your life, like you’ve drowned and every touch he gives you fills your lungs with much-needed oxygen. His hands rub gently at your waist, but it’s not enough. You want him to wreck you, ruin you. You say as much. 

“M-more…” you beg and when he hums against your neck you squirm desperately. Warm hands dig into your flesh and suddenly you find yourself flipped onto your stomach. You feel Suguru behind you, pushing your thighs apart with his knees. His hands find your hips again and lift, propping you up with your face still pressed to the pillows. When you whimper he runs a soothing hand up and down your spine. 

“‘S okay, baby. Relax. Lemme take care ‘ve you.” 

Yes, yes, yes, you think. You don’t think you’ve ever wanted anything more. His fingers dig into your skin, holding you still when he feeds his dick into you, one inch at a time. You cry out, tearing at the sheets and begging for more, even when you already feel like you’re splitting in half. When he’s finally seated inside you he drapes himself over your back, brushing your hair over one shoulder to expose your neck. He leans in to lick you again, thrusting sharply the moment his tongue brushes your skin. You wail, pressing your face to the sheets and attempting to rock yourself back against him. One of his hands smooths over the flesh of your ass as he sets a pace, one that makes you bite down on a pillow to muffle your screams. 

“No.” Suguru uses that tone that makes you listen, that one that calls instinctively to the omega inside you, that urges you to please. He reaches for your pillow, tossing it aside and letting his hand curl around your throat as he continues to fuck you, letting his fingers feel the vibrations of every noise you make. “Let me hear you, baby. Always let me hear you.” 

You nod, eager to make him happy, eager to do as he says. You don’t dare restrain a single sound, eyes rolling back. The angle he has you at has your thighs trembling. He’s so deep, so close. You feel his heartbeat against your back, feel his tongue on your skin, his hand on your throat, his cock at your cervix.

When he groans, you groan with him, feeling his dick pulse inside you, his knot beginning to swell. You need it, need it so bad you can hardly stand it. 

“P-please, please, please–”

He swells inside you, locking your bodies together as his orgasm hits. It’s all you need to find your own. You wail into the mattress, cunt clenching and legs trembling until you collapse, flattening against the beg. Suguru follows you down, wrapping his arms around your waist and whispering in your ear.

“Take it all, baby. Good girl. Take it all…” 

You nod, not even sure what you’re agreeing to. All you can feel is his cum flooding your insides, pulsing and pumping so deep into you that you swear your tummy is swelling with the sheer amount of it. Still, your body wants more, clenching and milking him for every last drop, just like he asked.

When you both come down from your orgasms he pulls you into his chest once again, whispering promises of protection and love that lull you into a trance-like state of happiness. When you fall asleep again, he’s chanting a word that your omega repeats right back to him. “Mine, mine, mine.”

When you wake again it’s to the sound of Geto staying true to his word and flushing every last birth control pill you have straight down the toilet. Your omega surges at the idea, but one mewl from you and he’s back in your arms, like you’re somehow the one in charge, not him. With every passing moment, you being to think that might be true- that perhaps a heat does not makes you as weak as you thought. Your alpha submits as much to you as you submit to him.

The week is spent in a frenzy. You do not measure by the numbers on the clock or where the sun is in the sky, rather you know time only as how long it’s been since Suguru’s been locked inside you. If it were up to you, you’d never stop, but Geto forces you to sleep, to eat, to bathe. Of course, he’s never far away when you’re following his instructions and you usually get a kiss and his knot as a reward for being such a good girl. 

It’s ten days later when your heat finally starts to wane. It feels as though every inch of you is covered in him. Bites, hickies, kisses, cum… no part of you has been left untouched. Suguru has had you everywhere. The bed, the shower, the bath, the kitchen. Every surface in the whole apartment reeks of sex and slick. He never keeps you too far from the bedroom, though, where you’ve piled up mountains of his shirts and sheets. Anything that smells like him, anything that can keep you tethered in those brief moments when Suguru goes to fetch you food or water or run you a bath. He takes care of you, just like he promised. 

When you wake completely clear-headed for the first time in well over a week, it’s to Suguru’s arms and lips. He’s got you all wrapped up in him, his arms locked around your waist almost like he expects you to bolt. You almost do when everything comes flooding back to you, this time with a completely clear conscience. But then he kisses your neck and whispers a delightful little, “welcome back, baby” against your neck and suddenly you’re realizing how… revitalized you feel, like a part of you has finally been properly satisfied after years of waiting. You’d always hated this, always hated the part of you that begged and cowered, hated heats- but maybe with Suguru… they really weren’t all that bad.

taglist (DM me to be added!): @lacheri, @la-undercover-latina

link: alpha!gojo fic

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[fenixburned]

also I screamed at Achilles about this earlier but I want to elaborate: after watching this show 100 times I noticed a little detail: when Simon talks about the booze with his father in the first episode he says it‘s not for me. I don‘t drink. & during the party scene we actually don‘t see him drink either. which makes so much sense?? we never learn any details about the past, but we know that Micke is an alcoholic & the fact that they all went no contact & seeing how uncomfortable Simon is during every interaction clearly points to a history of abuse. so most likely he is both a victim & witness of abuse & that surely played a role in him deciding not to drink at all, after seeing what it turned his father into & how it destroyed the family.

[savercknroll]

I miss drunk cigarettes! I miss drunk food! I miss drunk conversations! I miss drunk joints! I miss being drunk with my friends!