#what is that... xanax or something like that? how do you get it? do you need a prescription?

[cosmogyros]

.

[luveline]

𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝'𝐬 𝐨𝐤 —

i'm watching season two of criminal minds and getting very sad and frustrated about how no one is noticing spencer's withdrawals. could you maybe do one where bau!reader notices that he's not okay and confronts him about it? our baby boy deserves all the help he can get at this point 🥲 love you endlessly!

love you!! cw drug use

"What are you doing?" you ask. 

Spencer pushes his book toward you wordlessly, an intimidating tome of Russian literature. 

"No, like, what are you doing?" 

Spencer sits up. His sunken eyes look for your tell, a twitch in your lips like this might be a bluff, but there's no feigned emotion to be found. "I don't know what you're asking me." 

"Is it downers?" 

A spark of life behind tired eyes, his face contorted by anger, Spencer hisses, "What are you talking about?" 

"Oxycontin? Xanax? Half the time you're looking at us like you hate us and the rest of the time you're quiet." 

"I don't– you're being ridiculous," Spencer says. 

"Your hands are shaking, Spence." You cross your arms over your chest and take a step closer to his desk. While you'd asked him somewhere far from private, driven by a need for truth, you care about him —that's why you're asking. You know you've gone about this all wrong. "You're coming down," you whisper, "and it looks painful." 

Spencer just stares at you. 

"Why don't we go to the cafeteria? Get something warm to eat?" you suggest. He's lost weight he didn't have to lose lately. 

"I'm never hungry," he says. 

You take it for a confession, an admittance that he's been doing something he shouldn't be. Withdrawal and drug use alike can cause a lack of appetite. Maybe he's upset you've brought it up, just… 

"I can't watch you being not okay anymore," you say. 

His surprise is obvious. "I didn't think anybody noticed." 

You can't speak for the others or their motivations. All you know is that you care about him too much to pretend it isn't happening. You'd hoped Spencer would tell you about it himself, if he needed help. You hadn't realised that might come off as you not paying attention.

"You don't have to tell me anything you don't want to tell me, I shouldn't have– I'm sorry for being sudden."

"I haven't exactly been approachable," Spencer says bitterly. 

"I love you," you say. "Be a dick if you want. But I love you and I want you to eat more than dried fruit, so. Come with me for dinner." 

Spencer stands up quietly, no fuss. He pulls his jacket on and unlucky his hair from the collar, expression like a lost puppy looking down at you. You stare at him, his under eyes dark as wine and the slight hollow of his cheeks, the stubble like a shadow on his jaw. 

You go up on tiptoes and wrap your arms around him. "I just want to know what's wrong so I can be here for you," you say, crushing his hair to his neck with your cheek. You readjust your hands, trying to convey how you feel, the want to hold him together, put his misaligned pieces back in the right place. "I don't want you to be alone." 

Spencer clears his throat, but he hugs you back in his way, making himself smaller and shorter to fit in your embrace. 

"It'll be okay. Yeah?" You speak into his hair, a reassurance for him alone.

Spencer just hugs you harder. 

[scientia-rex]

I made that post about how smoking is bad—actually, no, I’ve made two relatively popular posts about how smoking is bad for you. Raises your chances of dying from multiple factors including heart disease and stroke in addition to lung (and mouth, throat, and bladder) cancer.

I am always so baffled by the responses going “well I could die from something else!” Yes. You could. Statistically speaking, you will most likely die of heart disease, stroke, or cancer, if you live in the US. Your average life expectancy is somewhere around 78 for women, 76 for men. Many people die younger than that, for a lot of reasons. Many of my patients have illnesses that will shorten their lives. I hate to split it into “fault,” as if there’s some kind of perfect way to live a blameless life. (There isn’t.) The numbers, however, are both clear and pitiless. People who smoke are more likely to die younger than they otherwise might have.

Medicine is a numbers game. My job is not to psychically predict exactly what will punch your ticket and when. It is to improve your odds. I want you to both live as long a life as possible but also as high-quality a life as possible. I want for you to live a life you enjoy.

It’s that simple; it’s not sinister. I’m not out here going “I’ll tell them not to smoke so they can have LESS FUN before getting hit by a bus at 30!”

Because smoking isn’t actually fun. What it is, is a very quick (and faster = more addictive) reduction in physical feedback systems that heighten anxiety. Withdrawal of an unpleasant stimulus is rewarding. (Technically, it’s a negative reward; the negative doesn’t refer to a moral judgment, but the addition or subtraction of a stimulus.) Something that is very rewarding very fast will be very addictive. It’s why crack cocaine is also so addictive—it is also a very fast and very potent reward. It’s also why benzodiazepines like Xanax are so addictive to so many people; it’s a slower peak blood level but the removal of severe anxiety is profoundly rewarding.

So smoking can make you feel better when you do it. But your body will try to fix any broken signals. It doesn’t just want to be able to signal to you when you need to feel stressed: it has to be able to signal you, or your long-ago ancestors would have been eaten by predators. So it ramps up the signaling. Now you’re not smoking because you feel better than baseline; you’re smoking to get back to baseline.

That’s why quitting sucks. When you quit smoking, all of the sudden your body’s signals of stress that got dialed up to 11 to overcome the nicotine are just out there at full blast, making you feel scared and jittery and irritable. It’s why when you quit benzos (or daily alcohol) cold turkey you can get life-threatening seizures. It’s why when you stop alcohol you’re likely to have sleep disruptions that can persist for weeks to months.

That’s why things that help reduce the suckage can help. Nicotine patches, lozenges, or gum. Chantix. Wellbutrin. Slowly stepping down the nicotine level on your vape. Eating more, eating things you like. (I would 1000% rather have a patient be fat than be smoking. I know other people will be shittier to you if you gain weight. Living is worth it.) Being kind to yourself helps you quit smoking. You need to recognize that “quitting smoking you” is not your baseline you. It is you with an invisible illness that will take weeks to months to get over.

And sometimes you can’t face that hump right now. But if you want to maximize your odds of the longest and healthiest possible life, knowing that any number of terrible things can happen to you at any time, making the effort—over and over again, if you need to—is the best shot you have.

There are a couple of conditions where smoking does markedly reduce symptoms. The well-known ones are schizophrenia and Crohn’s disease. If you feel not just better, but better like this is a medication for you, like you poop blood or hear things without it, talk to your primary care provider, because there are other medicines that might be safer and/or more effective for you. The landscape around pharmaceutical research has shifted dramatically over the last 30 years. We have more options than we’ve ever had before. Maybe this doesn’t have to be the expensive, dangerous medication that half-works for you. And if what you’re self-medicating is your anxiety, nicotine is a pretty crappy medication for that, because it doesn’t fix you; it changes your baseline to an even shittier place.

You have bodily autonomy. You can make your own choices. I will never go to a patient’s house and slap the cigarette out of their hand. But if what you want is the longest and healthiest possible life, smoking makes your odds worse.

The number of people who think that I, as a doctor, would be unaware of how profoundly unfair bodily health can be amazes me. It’s like the first Father Brown story, where Father Brown is explaining to the villain that someone whose main job is to hear about all of the terrible sins people have to confess cannot remain naive. My job is watching people age, or filling out their death certificates. One or the other. I prefer watching them age, but everyone will die. Someday my doctor will be filling out my death certificate. I’ve removed one potential contributing factor from that line—maybe I’ll get diabetes, maybe I’ll get cancer, maybe I’ll have a workplace accident, but “smoking” isn’t going to be on that line anymore. That’s the best I can do. I can’t psychically predict my own death, either; just play the numbers, try to do my best, and hope.

[underestimated-heroine]

The fact that radfems spread this post around is actually really interesting--infuriating, but interesting. Because what they've really done here is tell on themselves.

This is the shrimp guy story:

From an anonymous green text called "shrimp saved my life" [emphasis mine]:

>be depressed, suicidal xanax- addicted incel >one day I go to my /aq/fag uncle's house for some shit >he has pet shrimp, never seen anything like it before >he offers to get me some 53 KB JPG >throw them in a barely cycled tank with some shitty rock >several shrimp die >realize that I killed them with my apathy >realize I need to take responsibility for once in my life >do research, learn about water parameters and so on >eventually I have a beautiful planted tank with no more deaths >notice a female shrimp carrying eggs >haven't felt this excited about anything in almost a decade >the eggs disappear and I once again think I fucked up >a few days later I see a tiny transparent baby shrimp >l suddenly know how the shepherds felt as they gazed upon the newborn Christ >by this point I live and breathe shrimp >all my spare time is spent on shrimp research and watching shrimp videos >l spend most of the money I had saved from my last job on shrimp products >quit the Xanax to support shrimp spending >start putting effort into college in hope of getting a good job for my shrimp >grades improve, no longer facing the prospect of dropping out >relationship with parents improves since I am finally passionate about something and applying myself >l see genuine happiness in their eyes when I talk excitedly about my shrimp >for my birthday my mom makes me a shrimp cake >it even has fondant legs and little chocolate eggs >cry like a little bitch when I see it >mom hugs me and tells me she's always been proud of me >college dorm neighbours demand to see my shrimp >shit they're gonna think I'm autistic >they actually think my shrimp are really cool >they start inviting me to their social events >start interacting with girls, get told by girls for the first time in my life that I'm fun and smart >l think my shrimp would be proud of me if they knew >We're gonna make it bros. Even if you can't do it for yourself, do it for the animals that depend on you.

He did address his relationship with women. By finding a hobby and passion and working on himself--"touching grass"--he stepped away from the echo chamber that filled him with all this rage and convinced him women were to blame for all of his problems. As someone once wisely observed, "the cure is going offline and realizing it's just. really not that big a deal."

And that is what radfems have not done, so of course they didn't spot the quiet flashpoint of shrimp guy's personal development within his story.

Edit: it's been brought to my attention that the version of the greentext post I lifted the text from was censored by someone else. My bad for not realizing that, tbh it was done so well I thought shrimp guy had done it himself, but that's an important part of the post. I've gone back through and un-censored it. The reply which was spread around with the original post addressed the words themselves well, I think; however distasteful and fucked up the incel rabbit hole is, it doesn't diminish his growth.

[bullet-prooflove]

Good People: Carmen "Carmy" Berzatto x Reader

Tagging: @kmc1989 @wabi-sabi1090 @lostinwonderland314 @turtle-cant-communicate @fallout-girl219

Takes place after:

The Farm - Carmy recalls the day you met.

Prequel to:

Pears - It starts when Carmy makes an order he doesn't remember.

Mornings - Carmy sleeps better with you around.

Bubble - You have no idea that you saved Carmy's life.

Crazy, Stupid, Fucked Up World (NSFW) - Carmy tells you he lvoes you for the first time.

Everyone knows that Carmy has a thing for the farm girl. It’s the way his attention shifts when your name is mentioned, the fact it’s him that signs for the orders and no one else. They watch as he asks about your day and raise their eyebrows when he stands there and actually listens.

“You may as well be giving her fuck me eyes.” Richie says as he tries to wrestle The Beef t-shirt onto an inflatable hotdog in Jimmy’s backyard.

The two of them are setting up for that ridiculous kid’s party, hoping to knock a couple of grand off the debt Mikey owed him.

“I don’t have fuck me eyes.” Carmy mutters, focusing on slicing the oranges for the homemade Ectoplasm he’s made because Unc’s kid is nuts about Ghostbusters.

“Oh you do. You fucking do.” Richie argues as he pulls out the duct tape. “It’s probably the reason we’re getting such a discount, she likes the way you shake that pasty white ass underneath that little apron of yours.”

“You’re a fucking asshole.” He snaps at Richie, launching a piece of fruit at the back of  Richie’s head. It smacks him right on the dome and the other man turns to face him furious.

“What the fuck is with you?” Richie retorts, throwing it back. “Last month you got the shit kicked out of you by a guy dressed like a carrot, now you’re whoring yourself out for cucumbers. You’ve got issues man, big ones.”

Carmen really has nothing to say to that because honestly if he had to whore himself out to keep this business going, he probably fucking would. That’s exactly where his self-respect is right now, rock fucking bottom. It’s the reason he’s out here in the fucking suburbs slinging gourmet hot dogs for little monsters have no fucking clue how the real world works.

“I hate you.” He tells Richie as he throws himself back into his work the same way he always does. “I fucking hate you.”

It’s an hour later that Richie does the uncharacteristic thing and apologizes. Carmy thinks it’s probably got something to do with the Xanex he took about an hour ago.

“I shouldn’t have said that about Alice.” Richie says, rubbing his palm over the back of his neck. “She’s good people.”  

“Yea she is.” Carmy responds as he starts to make up another hotdog. “She’s helping us out in a bind because she’s a good person. It’s got nothing to do with my ass.”

Richie tilts his head from side to side as he pulls the bottle of Xanax out of his coat pocket and spills another tablet into his palm.

“It’s a little to do with your ass.” Richie tells him as he takes the pill, washing it down with a cup of Ecto.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Carmy asks as he puts the finishing touches on his masterpiece.

“It means for some fucked up reason she likes you.” Richie responds, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know why, you’re basically a fucking mop with eyes but she does and you should really do something about that.”

“Like what Richie?” Carmy retorts, turning to face him, his hands coming to rest on his hips. “I run a sandwich shop that’s failing so badly I had to pay for our meat order with change out the arcade machine thirty days ago, I’ve got jack shit to offer anyone right now.”

“I’m just saying you deserve to be happy.” Richie says as he leans back against the fold up table, the tension in his shoulders relaxing. “Mikey would have wanted you to be happy.”

Carmy doesn’t know what Mikey would have wanted because Mikey, he’s not here to tell him.

“That second Xanex just kicked in didn’t it?” Carmy remarks, changing the subject and Richie exhales, nodding his head.

“Oh yea, big time. I don’t feel a fucking thing.”

It’s on the way home, that Carmy starts to think about what Richie said, about you, about being happy.

Sitting in those fields at your farm on his days off, shooting the shit with you. It’s the closest thing to contentment he’s felt in years. If he was a better man, someone less mentally ill, he’d consider pursuing it but honestly he’s a fucking mess. He wouldn’t wish himself on any woman especially you.

“You’re punking out aren’t you?” Richie says from the passenger seat as he watches the world go by outside.

“No.” Carmy says, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “She just deserves better than an asshole like me.”

Love Carmy? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[kremlin]

@wikwalker hi sure yes anything to give me an excuse to procrastinate the post i should be writing right now. here are all teh drugs and how to manage them. you can trust me, a drug addict

first of all: https://www.erowid.org/ , erowid always

don't be afraid of drugs, if they're the right drugs, you should do them since they will be a blast regardless and overcoming fear is also good (but outside the scope here)

OK to do as much as you want: alcohol - social benefit greatly outweighs health effects, no reason to avoid if predisposed to abuse since that'll happen sooner or later. what can i say? don't be a fucking dork. when you start drinking, really overdo it as much as possible without dying and get a few real nasty hangovers under your belt so you know how much is the right amount to drink.

weed - innocuous enough to be fine but will make you stupid in the long term. make sure to only buy from a real drug dealer and never some legal institution. cut it out when you're a "real adult". don't smoke weed and watch TV routinely, go out and do things so you naturally grow to hate it. good to go through this as early as possible to minimize the time you spend as a cringe weed enthusiast

i guess those are the only two.

ok to do infrequently (annually): "lsd" - or whatever it is, probably not lsd, blah blah blah, if it works and is sold on blotter its fine and won't make you go nuts or whatever. opt for a better psychadelic imo. see psych rule at bottom of section

mushrooms - better than acid since you know what they are. rule of thumb is to always do more than you think you want. minimum 1/8oz. see psych rule at bottom of post

dmt - if you somehow have a dmt hookup you don't need to be reading any of this. lasts 10 minutes which leads to tendency to way overdo it, don't do this, my favorite webcomic artist is permanently crazy from exactly that. using a crack pipe is also not the uhhhh most dignifying-feeling thing to do either. it's harder than you think.

mdma - for use at electronic music event or rave. overuse causes brain lesions or something.

coke - wait until you're in your 20s, have maxed out your roth IRA for a couple of years in a row, and havent missed a car payment in a similar timeframe. better still if you've worked a very shitty low paying job and know the value of a dollar. if you still find yourself buying candy you're not ready. too expensive to be worth it to get hooked on. know that you are VERY ANNOYING to anyone who also isn't high. don't fuck around with the guy selling it to you. avoid discussing or thinking about business ideas. you can't afford to make it a habit + kinda turns you into a piece of shit after a while, but at least a very interesting one

ketamine - another sick drug that rules, but save it for a special occasion. don't try and go into the k-hole your first time

rule for psychedelics - you get one good strong trip a year and that's it, make it count, always opt for doing a bit more than a bit less. but don't make it a habit, otherwise you turn into a very stupid very annoying "hippy" style cliché and believe in ghosts, aliens, crap like that.

ok to try once prescription opiates/benzodiazepine (xanax), valium, this kind of shit - worth trying so you can go "holy shit, this stuff is way way way too good to ever use responsibly" and then never do again. especially if you're white. for some reason we just can't handle this shit. if a doctor prescribes it to you, idk, that's your call to make.

ayhuasca - this is just dmt in a different form. do some other psychadelics a number of times before you do this. once you realize the whole "substantial visual hallucinations" thing is made up, its time. do exactly this: -buy root online (legal). receive box of dirt -boil dirt into "tea" (read erowid for exact recipe) -take over-the-counter anti nausea medicine or anything that will give you a stronger stomach -drink tea (its nasty as fuck, get it down quick) -have someone bigger than you keep an eye on you for the next five hours. -have the experience, which is absurdly intense, has no bearing to the real world, etc etc. don't be a bitch and throw up, if you do it'll only last an hour or so. again there is no way to provide a consistent description of the experience except that you will meet god. you only ever need to do this once and never again. trust me

peyote/salvia/etc - try em if you want, you'll never ever want to again afterwords. these are drugs for idiot teenagers too lame to get real drugs. imagine being very very sick from poison and utterly terrified at the same time. No good

whippets/nitrous oxide - just find a dentist that uses it and don't bother creating hundreds of pounds of trash on your floor for this crap that lasts ten seconds. you have to understand the extremely short timeframe coupled with the cost makes zero sense. go to a phish concert parking lot and do some people watching -- you do not want to be these people. only use is as a motivator to get routine dental exam. also if you somehow manage to make it a heavy habit your fucking legs stop working, no shit, but they start working again once you quit.

don't ever do heroin/meth/pcp - is is truly a mystery why you should never do these 🙄

synthetic weed/k2/shit from the gas station - it is so funny that they sell this as "weed that won't pop you on a drug test". its not weed. it is some dubious chemical sprayed on yard waste. smoke it to have a terrible time and go nuts. only buy drugs from legitimate drug dealers!

kratom - anyone's guess as to why this is legal but it's heroin for pussies. its still heroin

dxm/cough syrup - do you ever wonder why it is exclusively teenagers robotripping? it's because it sucks ass. is like a cheesegrater on your brain in terms of health effects with repeated usage. you're better than this king

inhalants - these are at the bottom of the list for a reason. do not huff gas. don't huff paint. do not consume computer duster. not fun + fastest way to make yourself a complete, uh, (word i can't say anymore) and then dead

not listed quaaludes- unavailable due to no longer being manufactured. these ruled apparantly

sincis2c - unavailable due to not existing, i just made this up

amphetamines - cannot provide objective take here. they're my albatross, lifelong (posted 4:55am natch)

[s-ublimewrites]

xanax (melissa schemmenti x f!reader)

synopsis: melissa needs a push to make a much-needed change in her life

words: 2.9k

warnings: swearing, mild angst (mel & reader argue), gary bashing, republicanism mention

note: i wrote part of this, didn't touch it for eight months, picked it back up, and now here we are: another fic where nothing actually happens between mel & r, but also everything happens. enjoy!

“Don’t go in there yet,” Janine stops you before you can enter the teacher’s lounge. 

“Uh, why not?” You prepare to step around her and she blocks your path. 

“Y/n, it’s tense in there right now,” she insists. She’s stress sweating, you notice. 

Your brow furrows. “Janine, it’s the first day. It’s…” you check your watch, “7:04am. How is it already tense?”

Janine checks over her shoulder and lowers her voice slightly. “So, you know Gary? Melissa’s vending machine guy?”

You fight the urge to roll your eyes. Yeah, you know Gary. You are, in fact, acutely aware of Gary’s presence in Melissa’s life. Listen, you’re super happy for Melissa - she seems to like him, they just spent the summer in Jersey Shore together. You just think it’s kind of weird how he relates everything to vending machines. And you’re kinda wary of asking Melissa who he voted for in 2016. And 2020. And, okay, maybe seeing him kiss her goodbye in the break room makes you want to puke. Whatever. 

“I’m familiar,” you say to Janine.  

Her eyes flick to the cameras, then back to you. “Okay. Well. On the last day of their Jersey Shore trip, something happened. Melissa is pissed and Barbara totally knows why and I think they’re maybe mad at each other about it? Anyway it’s basically a war zone in there and you need to tread very carefully, Y/n.”

There’s genuine fear in Janine’s voice. Poor girl has definitely suffered the wrath of Melissa Schemmenti this morning. 

“Do you know what happened?” you ask. 

Janine shakes her head. “No, but Barb keeps shaking her head all disapprovingly and saying ‘Melissa Ann Schemmenti, just you wait until Y/n gets here,’ so…” 

Her Barb impression is… pretty bad. You don’t comment on it. 

“Ah,” you say, “so I’m the bomb-defusing robot you’re sending in so Melissa will stop being mean to everyone. I see.” 

Somewhere during your time at Abbott, grumpy Melissa has become your responsibility. Not that you mind very much. You like being the only one that can get through to her when she’s like this; you like that everyone knows it, too. 

“If rugs are Xanax for second graders,” Janine says, “you’re Xanax for Melissa. Good luck!” 

Janine scurries off and you take a deep breath. Here goes nothing, you suppose. 

It’s just Barb and Melissa in the lounge — you figure the palpable tension that hangs between them has scared everyone else off. They sit at different tables, decidedly not talking. Melissa’s face is buried in her phone, glasses on the end of her nose, and Barb stares at the yogurt that she’s stirring but not eating. 

“Good morning,” you offer softly as you step into the room, trying to give an air of ‘I’m perfectly normal and don’t know anything about your potentially-failing relationship.’

Melissa’s eyes flick up from her phone, landing briefly on you before she returns to whatever is on her screen. Barb, though, snatches up her bag and her yogurt and is on her feet moving toward you. 

“Maybe you can talk some sense into this one,” Barb says to you furiously. She keeps walking, heading right past you, and slams her yogurt into the trash before exiting the room. Somewhere in this time, the camera crew has the good sense to scram.

You look at Melissa. She looks back at you. 

“What?” she all but spits - angry, sure, but also upset. Hurt by something. Someone. Your hatred for the vending machine guy is set in stone. 

“C’mon, you don’t get to be mad at me - I literally just got here,” you remind Melissa and drop into the seat next to hers. 

Melissa doesn’t say anything, but she looks at you with less loathing. It’s a good first step. 

“You traumatized Janine,” you reattempt. 

“A strong gust of wind could traumatize Janine,” Melissa mutters. She puts down her phone and finally looks at you, moving her glasses to sit atop her head. “Why? What’d she say t’ya?” 

You remember Janine’s words — tread carefully. “Not much. Something about things being tense with you and Barb… Something about Gary.”

Melissa’s jaw sets and she looks at her lap and she doesn’t say anything. 

“Did you fight?” your voice is gentle.  

Melissa plays with her fingers and shakes her head. “No. Well, I don’t know. Kind of? I don’t know. Maybe.” 

You stay quiet while she thinks about this (you didn’t intend for it to be such a difficult question, but you don’t say that).

“Not yet, I guess,” Melissa finally decides. “We haven’t fought yet.” 

You nod, beginning to understand. “Does Gary know that you’re potentially going to be fighting?” 

She shrugs. “Dunno if I wanna make it a thing.” 

“So, there’s two things going on here? You’re mad at Gary for something, and Barb is mad at you?”

She nods. You nod. She suddenly becomes interested in her cuticles.

“Okay,” you retry, “which do you want to tackle first?”

“Neither.”

“Melissa.” 

“Why dontcha just drop it?” Melissa snaps. 

You don’t back down; rather, you give her a pointed look, and she sighs heavily — her international sign of realizing she was mean to you.

You try again. “So, Barb is mad at you.”

“Mhm.”

“Because of the Gary thing?”

“Mhm.”

“Did you fuck up, or did he?”

Melissa goes quiet again and you kick her under the table. 

“Hey, I don’t care either way. You know I support women’s wrongs,” you do your best to keep your tone light.

This draws a half-smile out of her. “Him. Mostly. Then, kinda me… Kinda.”

It’s your turn to stare at her, because what the hell are you supposed to do with that?

She huffs out a sigh, averts her eyes, and her words come out in a rush: “He fucked up and did some stuff and Barb is mad that I haven’t dumped him yet, okay?”

You nod, trying to piece the information together. “So, you wanna give him another chance, but Barb doesn’t? That’s… not usually how this goes.”

“I’m old, alright?” Melissa breathes out, any trace of venom having left her words. Now, she just sounds exhausted. 

“Hang on,” you hold up a hand to halt her train of thought, “what? First off, no you’re not. Second, what does your age have to do with anything?”

She looks at her lap. “I found someone who wants to settle down with me. I got divorced and wrote off love then found it again and I can’t afford to be throwin’ it away.”

Every once in a while, Melissa will let you see her frayed edges like this. They’re ragged and raw and tender and she trusts you to not probe more than necessary. It makes you feel… something. Something deep and warm that burns inside you like brandy and makes your hands tremble. 

“But?” you coax gently, and she runs a hand down her face in something akin to defeat.

Melissa’s eyes flick to the door, and you know she’s making sure there’s no camera crew and no Janine.

“But somehow we got this far in without talkin’ about politics. I mean, I talk about it. All the time. And he nods, so I thought we were on the same page, but…”

Christ alive, I was right about the elections, you think, and clamp your mouth shut (it is so not the time for an I Told You So).

For the umpteenth time this morning, you choose your words with care. “I’ve never known Melissa Schemmenti to compromise her beliefs for anybody.”

And, well, there it is. You’ve said the thing that both Melissa and Barb knew you’d say, and she wouldn’t be able to fight you on it, because it’s you. Her Xanax. 

She spends a moment chewing on her bottom lip, and her voice is low when she says, “I don’t wanna hav’ta start all over again.”

It occurs to you that this woman is deeply scared that she’s never going to be loved again. 

You don’t know how to reassure her that you’re not going to let that happen. 

Instead, you just say, “Yeah,” because what else is there to say?

After a beat, you add, “You also don’t wanna hav’ta date someone who thinks they’re putting litter boxes in classrooms for all the kids who identify as cats.” 

Melissa huffs out a somewhat incredulous laugh and blinks away the tears that you weren’t planning on pointing out. She shakes her head like she’s clearing out cobwebs. 

“I was hoping we could just ignore it. That it would be one of those things we don’t talk about,” Melissa tells you. 

You look at her pointedly. “Right. Until he tries to tell you that unions strip you of your individual voice and makes you watch NewsMax after dinner every night. Melissa, you’d murder the man.”

The glare you receive in return only confirms what you both know: once again, Melissa is incapable of arguing with you, and she’s kinda peeved about it. 

“Why d’ya gotta to be so…” she fishes for the appropriate word, “…right? It’s obnoxious.”

“It’s obnoxious that I know you?” You suppress a smirk. 

“Yeah.”

“So you want me to let you keep dating a republican?”

Melissa crosses her arms over her chest. “Shut up.” 

“You gotta dump him, babe. Before there’s a questionable campaign sign in your front lawn,” you stress, and she groans. 

“Then who’s gonna take me to Ocean City and haul me back to the hotel room when I’m eight Manhattans deep and three g’s in the red?” She pouts. 

Your eyebrow quirks up. “Is that your only qualifying factor? I can do that.”

The pout gives way to a small smirk. “So, I dump Gary and you take me to Ocean City? Is that the deal?” 

You pause. Or… maybe ‘freeze’ is a more accurate word. 

“I… guess?” you manage to get out.

Melissa considers this for a moment, head cocked to the side. “Not a bad incentive.”

How did we get here? you briefly wonder, and you push the thought aside. 

“So you’re gonna leave him, then?” you try to keep your tone light, hoping to urge her back toward your main objective. 

Melissa huffs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You wanna be my knight in shining armor. You’re not gettin’ me to Ocean City that easy, kid.” She smirks, but it’s tight. Almost forced. 

“Hey, I’m just saying that if all it takes is some drinks on the boardwalk, I’m your gal,” you laugh softly, and she cracks a smile back. 

For a brief moment you feel like you’ve successfully dodged the bullet; Melissa’s more relaxed now, some of the tension having left her shoulders. You just have to coax her a little bit further. 

“I’m serious, Melissa. You deserve way better than a guy who…” is politically vomit-worthy “… doesn’t share your values, y’know? You don’t have to settle.”

That’s when something changes in the way she’s looking at you. The smirk disappears, her eyes narrow, and when she speaks her voice has cooled significantly. 

“Settle?” Melissa repeats. “Who’s settlin’?”

It’s like the air thickens around the two of you. You try to backpedal, to shove the words back in your mouth and swallow them, but it’s too late. Melissa is putting those walls right back up. 

“I don’t need you to swoop in and save me, Y/n,” her voice is sharp, intentionally chosen to carve out space between the two of you. “I’ve stuck it out through way worse than this, alright?”

You sit back in your chair a little and do your best to keep your voice even. “That doesn’t mean you have to-“

“I don’t have to do anything.” Melissa is already shaking her head, voice firm. “I didn’t ask for advice.”

Ouch. Okay, so, she’s kinda pissed. Usually your talks go a lot better than this, and you’re both laughing by now. Then again, usually the talks are about Ava’s inadequacies as a principal or some annoying parent. Not Melissa’s love life and sense of self-worth. 

“Melissa,” you try to control the damage, “I’m not trying to-“

“I’m not some delicate little flower who can’t handle a little trouble. You know me,” Melissa leans forward. “I’ve dealt with way harder stuff than Gary screwin’ up a little. You don’t know half of what I’ve gone through, so don’t sit there and try to pretend that you do.”

Her words hit you square in the chest. You didn’t know what to expect coming back to work after not seeing Melissa all summer, but you didn’t imagine it would be like this. 

Not that you imagined it often. Definitely not. 

You had hoped nothing would be different between you, but she’s evidently putting you at arm’s length now. 

“Melissa, I’m just saying,” you take a breath and try to regroup, “you deserve better than him.”

“Better than what?” Melissa shoots back, arms crossed securely in front of her chest. “Than a guy who wants to settle down with me? Yeah, he’s got some rough edges. So what? Who doesn’t?”

You make a mental note to unpack that sometime down the road. 

“Rough edges?” your eyebrow raises. “Melissa, I’m just trying to make sure you’re happy and not… settling.”

You’re hyper-aware of your use of that word again, and so is she. 

Melissa looks at the table and her jaw clenches. “Yeah, well, maybe you don’t get to decide what settlin’ looks like for me. We’re not on the same page with this, alright?”

In the tense beat of silence that passes between you both, you can feel her withdrawing further from you. The months you’ve spent apart have made it all too raw, too soon. She leans back, arms still crossed, face set in a stubborn scowl. 

“I’ve been fine without your opinion all summer and I’ll be fine without it now.”

You sit back in your chair and try to not let the sigh you let out sound too irritated (or too hurt). This isn’t your first rodeo with Melissa, but still… Ouch. 

“All I’m saying,” you start gingerly, “is that just because you can get through something, it doesn’t mean you should.”

Melissa’s eyes narrow again, but they’re softer this time. She’s listening — even if she doesn’t want to be. 

“I know better than to try to tell you what you can or can’t do,” you continue, keeping your tone casual like you’re discussing the weather. “But I know you, Melissa. You don’t accept less than what you deserve. So if you’re ’sticking it out’ with Gary, there’s a reason, but I don’t think it’s the reason you think it is.”

Melissa doesn’t speak right away, just… stares, with this thoughtful expression. You let the silence hang between you, allowing your words to sink in. 

“You dunno everything about me, Y/n,” she finally says, looking away from you, and her voice has lost some of its edge. 

You offer a small smile. “I never said I did.” 

Another beat of silence. You can see her chewing on your words, probably fighting the urge to make it an argument again. This is always the hardest part — getting her to let go of the fight without feeling like she’s losing. 

“I just… I think you’re worth more than whatever this is,” you say carefully, making sure to keep your voice low. “And maybe it’s time you stop sticking it out just because you’re scared of what comes next.”

That does it. You see Melissa flinch, just barely, but it’s enough to know you’re getting through to her. 

“I’m not scared,” she mutters, but it lacks any real conviction. 

You don’t argue with her, just nod. “Yeah. I know.”

Melissa shifts in her chair, arms still crossed, but she’s less tense. She’s still mad, sure, and maybe she’s even still mad at you, but the fire behind it is dying down. 

“You always gotta be so damn calm, dontcha?” she grumbles. 

“One of us has to be,” you chuckle softly. 

Melissa finally cracks the tiniest smile, her boot nudging you under the table. “Good. You’ll need that calm at the craps table.”

“You’re totally gonna hold me to Ocean City, aren’t you?”

She shrugs. “Gotta have somethin’ to look forward to since you’re makin’ me dump my usual company.”

“Hey, I’m not making you-“ you pause. “Oh. So… you’re gonna do it, then?”

“Yeah,” Melissa nods with a sigh. “I guess I am.”

You just nod, and it seems like Melissa is really absorbing the fact that she’s about to be single again. She looks at the clock like it’s a ticking bomb. 

“Guess I’ve got some time to figure out how I wanna do this,” she says, and you know she’s going to be an anxious mess until 3:30 rolls around. 

“One thing at a time,” you offer a small, supportive smile, and she nods. 

She chuckles softly, more tired than amused. “Right. Should probably focus on my thirty second- and third-graders first.”

Right. Teaching. The thing you’re here to do. You both stand up and start gathering your things. She doesn’t make for the door when you do, and you stop. 

“It’s gonna be okay, Melissa,” you reassure her. “And you know where to find me if you need me.”

Melissa nods and takes a steadying breath. “We’ll talk later?” She sounds almost… hopeful. 

“Of course,” you smile. “If I recall, we’ve got an Ocean City trip to plan.”

Melissa huffs out a small laugh and gives another nod. The tension seems to leave her frame slightly as she finally heads for the door. You follow behind her, knowing the hardest part of the day is yet to come. But maybe, you think, everything will turn out just fine.

[ruins-of-babylon]

Drugs

♡︎♥︎♡︎♡︎♡︎♡︎

Mattheo Riddle x reader smut

𝒮𝓊𝓂𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓎：You and Mattheo have been friends for as long as you can remember. When you both start to sell drugs together, he’s forced to reveal his crush on you. 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔𝓈：fighting, blood, drugs, mentions of child abuse, angry!mattheo, f!reader, smut, unprotected p in v (don’t do this), oral (fem receiving), creampie, cockwarming, praise, lmk if I missed anything 𝒩ℴ𝓉ℯ：I had a dream about this, so I thought I’d share it lol. Enjoy!

MDNI!!!!!!

All the best things come in twos, right? Chocolate and vanilla ice cream, yin and yang, coke and Xanax. Oh, and of course, you and Mattheo Riddle. The two of you have known each other for as long as you remembered. The both of your dads were friends, which meant the two of you had to spend a lot of time together. Over time, your friendship flourished, you two bonded over your abusive fathers with their expectations, your shared house of slytherin, and love of drugs. You shared almost everything with each other. You knew one another like the back of your hand, there were no secrets between you two. There was only one thing you didn’t know about him: he had been crushing on you since 3rd year. You would have never known, as he hid it quite well. But that restraint started to crumble when you had the idea to sell drugs together. The plan was relatively simple. You would flirt with the people you bought from, getting more product for less money, and he would sell the goods to your fellow students. It sounded great at first. Fairly easy, the only risk being if someone of authority caught you. The only thing, everything is easier said than done.

That’s how you ended up here, in your dorm, picking out a slutty outfit to meet with your plug. When you had picked your outfit, including a short skirt, tight top, and heels, you walked out to the common room. There Mattheo was sitting on a couch, surrounded by Theo, Blaise, and Pansy. You stepped into their line of sight, doing a quick spin to show off your outfit. Pansy whistled and complimented you as the boys stared in awe. Blaise smiled and clapped, as did Theo. But with every spin, inch of skin you showed, and reaction from other boys, Mattheo felt something chipping away at his reserve. He put his head in his hands and rubbed his eyes. You frowned, taking his reaction as disappointment.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, your eyebrows knitting together as you stepped towards your best friend. You placed your hand on his head and gently pulled the soft curls of his hair, and he let out a groan. He felt his eyes bulge at the sound he made.

“Nothing. My head just hurts and you made it worse by pulling my hair.” He said, willing the heat in his cheeks to disappear.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know Matt.” You said, bending over to place a kiss on the top of his head. You giggled as he smiled up at you, grabbing his arm and pulling him up to you. “Are you ready?” You asked, hugging him and whispering into his ear. You were always very affectionate towards him, your love language was definitely touch. It made it all the worse for him, having to hide his feelings always became harder when you would sit on his lap and hug his neck, or hug him tight and whisper into his ear, or place soft kisses on his cheeks or head.

He nodded as you let go of him and started to walk towards the door. You followed him after hugging Pansy, Theo, and Blaise. He watched you do this and felt a pang of jealousy run through him. He wanted your affection, and he wanted it all to himself.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

When you reached your destination, Mattheo went to hide somewhere where he could watch you from a safe distance. As the wind nipped at your exposed skin and whipped your hair around your head, you looked in every direction, slightly nervous. Where was he? You checked your watch and jumped suddenly as you felt a tap on your shoulder.

“Are you who I think you are, sweetheart?” He asked. You had to admit, he was rather handsome. You briefly paused to jump into your persona created for this exact situation.

“That depends. Who do you think I am?” You seductively purred, inching your fingers up his bicep. A smirk graced your lips as you talked.

“The girl who wants to buy weed, coke, and acid.” He said, smiling as he looked at your hand on him.

You leaned into him, whispering, “That’s right.” You felt him shiver as you placed your hand gently on his neck. Your smirk stayed strong. “Where is it?” You asked.

He let out a shaky sigh as he reached for the backpack on his shoulders, unzipping it and pulling out a large plastic bag. You laughed.

“Did you mix them all together?” You joked, carefully taking it from him.

“No, it’s all in separate bags.” He answered, “what are you paying with, doll?” He grabbed your waist, slightly pulling you towards him.

“What do you want?” You giggled, letting him touch you. As he leaned down to whisper into your ear, he managed to say, “I think you know-“ before he suddenly was gone. You gasped as you turned to see him laying on the ground, Mattheo on top of him, his fist repeatedly hitting the other guy’s face. You could hear a cracking sound every other punch, wincing as you imagined how that must feel. After a few seconds you ran to Mattheos side, the shock of it all wearing off, pulling him away from his victim. You walked to see the man, his face bloody and almost unrecognisable. You placed your hand on your mouth as you took in the gory scene. With caution, you squatted down to his level to see better. You looked back at your friend, a smile on your face, ready to poke fun at his actions. But when you looked at him, his face was stone cold, a terrifying expression taking over his features. His hands were still balled into fists and covered in blood. Your smile vanished and you returned your gaze to the man you were going to buy drugs from. You turned him over to grab his backpack, rustling through it and pulling out whatever was valuable. With your acquired goods, you stood up and walked over to Mattheo.

“Let’s go.” You walked on, not looking to see if he followed.

❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎❤︎︎

Back at the castle, you walked straight to the common room, Mattheo entering soon after you. You grabbed him harshly and pulled him to your dorm and muttering a silencing spell. You thought for a moment while you put the bag down and turned to him.

“What the hell was that? That guy could be dead for all I know!” You shouted at him. His once more relaxed demeanor faded, and he scowled, a look of pure rage on his face.

“What’s wrong with you?!” You continued when he didn’t respond. He closed his eyes and looked almost like he could explode.

“I did what is best for you! That guy was being a fucking perverted freak! He was gonna ask you to fuck him, for fucks sake!” He shouted back, slowly stepping towards you. “You can’t fuck some idiot like him!” He added. Sudden realization hit you. He must be jealous.

"Who can I fuck, then?" You said calmer, with a newfound leverage. In his anger, he completely lost control of the leash that tied down his crush on you.

“Me! You can fuck me, not him, not anyone else!” He shouted. It took a few seconds for him to realize what he had said, but when he did, his eyes widened and his face turned bright red. The once smooth, confident, ladies man had disappeared and was replaced by this new version of Mattheo. You were also shocked. While you had the idea that he might like you, and you might like him, hearing these words was surprising. You smiled, walking towards him and pressing yourself against his chest.

“Oh, yeah?” You said. His words and protectiveness turned you on, and you were finally ready to admit your reciprocating feelings towards him. His breath got heavier the closer you got to him. You looked up at him through your eyelashes, showing him your best bedroom eyes.

“Are we doing this?” He breathed out, his hands just now moving to grab your hips. You just giggled at him and gently pressed your lips onto his. He added more pressure to the kiss, pressing his mouth onto yours with fervor. As he intoxicated you with his kiss, his hands moved around your body, squeezing and massaging as they went. You pushed off his jacket to show him what you wanted to do. He groaned into your mouth at your action and did the same for you. You parted temporarily to take off the rest of your clothes, and just took a moment to see each other. Mattheo looked like he was built from stone. Hard, defined muscles covered his body, putting even Michael Angelo to shame. His dick was hard, thick and long, the biggest you’d ever seen in real life. When he saw you, his jaw dropped. He knew you were gorgeous, but this was to a different level. You looked angelic, crafted by a careful hand. Perfect. His cautious hands moved around your body, feeling the soft skin and warmth you provided.

“You’re gorgeous, darling.” Was all he could say. He swore he could look at you all day and never begin to feel anything besides awe. You made the first move. You felt his bare skin under your palms, his muscles, his face. You kissed along his shoulders slowly, moving up his neck and eventually reaching his lips again. As you kissed, he picked you up and walked you both to what you assumed was the bed. He set you down with care and kissed his way down your body, stopping when he reached your pussy. Your heart hammered in your chest in anticipation, but when he continued down your body and started kissing your legs, you sighed in frustration.

“Please, do something.” You said, looking down at him as he smiled against your skin.

“Do what, sweetheart?” He teasingly asked, moving down to kiss your shins.

“Touch me, fuck me, anything.” You whined, reaching your hand down to pull at his head. He liked to hear those words, but he still wanted to kiss every inch of your skin, showing how much he wants and loves you.

“As you wish, pretty girl.” He said after a few seconds filled with his soft kisses. He brought his face to your pussy again, laying on his stomach and pushing your legs on his shoulders. You whined impatiently again as he started kissing your inner thighs instead of where you wanted. He laughed at your desperation and finally gave in, placing his lips on your cunt and kissing you repeatedly. You moaned in satisfaction as he finally did what you wanted. He took his time, savoring your taste on his tongue. Eventually he started licking long stripes across your most sensitive area, and you started to squirm around him. He had to press his hands against your hips to stop your wiggles when he started sucking on your clit.

“Mattheo, Matt, oh my god.” You screamed as he switched between sucking your clit and pushing his tongue into your hole. He loved when you said his name. It felt like it fell off your tongue like a prayer. He relished in the feeling, using it as fuel to fuck you harder with his tongue. Finally, you came, your cum pouring onto his tongue. He lapped every last drop up, his muscles flexing when he had to push your hips down when they started to thrash around. You shouted as he continued to clean you, grabbing his hair. You couldn’t tell if you wanted more or less of his tongue. He let you go after he had finished, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. You tried to calm down from your high, breathing in and out. He crawled up to you, pecking your lips and pushing your sweat dampened hair out of your face.

“Did that feel good, baby?” He asked, a smile on his face. You could only nod, kissing him again.

“Can I fuck you now?” He added, patiently waiting for you to answer him. You nodded again eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him towards you.

“Good girl.” He responded, kissing you once more before lining himself up at your entrance. He pushed inside you, watching your face for your reaction.

“You’re so big.” You grunted, feeling your body stretch for him when he bottomed out. He cockily grinned, and you laughed at him.

“I know.” Was all he said before he started moving, slowly pistoning in and out of you. His dick felt amazing as it rubbed against your inner walls, his pelvis brushing against your clit with each thrust. Soon, the pain turned to pleasure and all you could do was moan repeatedly. He started moving faster as he heard you, increasing how good you felt. You squeezed him inside of you, relishing the sounds he made when you did. You could feel yourself getting closer and closer with every sensation.

“How close are you?” You asked breathlessly. His powerful hips knocking the breath out of you with each movement.

“Really close. You keep squeezing me. You take me so well, princess. I can tell you’re close.” He mumbled against your neck, lightly biting the skin there. Right after he said that, he let go, filling you up with his cum. The sensation only added to your pleasure, and soon after him, you also let go. You both just laid there for a moment, him still sheathed deep inside you. You gently pecked his lips and face as he tried to catch his breath, a smile on your face. As he began to pull out, you stopped him.

“Can you keep it in?” You cheekily asked. He smiled and nodded, snuggling up with you, a soothing hand drawing patterns on your skin. You both fell asleep, tangled in each others arms.

^^^divider made by @saradika-graphics

I hope you enjoyed! Feel free to correct any mistakes I made or let me know what you thought of this. <3

[mattitties]

Boyfriend, pt 2 - matt sturniolo

you guys asked, so i delivered (hopefully)

part 1 here

I left the party last night feeling on top of the world. I recounted everything to my best friend the second Matt had left and she came back to me.

“I came back from the bathroom and saw you guys totally hitting it off, so I just stood back and watched. I thought he was about to bend you over the bar and fuck you right there,” she told me. 

It’s now the next morning and I’m trying to distract myself and not think about the fact that he hasn’t texted me yet. It’s only 10 AM, so I really shouldn’t be worried, but as someone who doesn’t talk to boys literally ever, I am naturally very worried. 

As the hours pass and it’s now 2 PM, I go into my roommate’s room. “Why hasn’t he texted me? Do you think he was just fucking with me? What if I didn’t give him the right number and he’s now texting some other hotter bitch instead of me? What if I was-” I start to ramble before she cuts me off.

“Oh my god, shut up! It’s been like 14 hours, chill out! He’s gonna text you, and if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. We don’t know anything about him, he could be sleeping still or he could be having a busy day. Take a Xanax or something, good gracious,” she tells me, finishing just as my phone vibrates.

I check it absentmindedly, fully expecting it to be my mom or a spam text, but instead I see an unknown number.

Hey it’s Matt, just wanted to see when your free to hang out?

I let out a shriek and show my roommate my screen.

“Fucking told you!” she says excitedly before her face changes. “Oh boy, he’s one of the fuckers who doesn’t know the difference between your and you’re. You gotta fix that.”

“Oh for sure,” I say, starting to type in my phone.

hey :) i’m free tonight or tmr if either of those work

Tonight is good, I can pick you up around 6 and we can get dinner. How does Boa sound?

“Oh my god. He wants to take me to Boa,” I tell my roommate. I’m just about on the verge of vomiting everywhere.

“Oh fuck yeah! Mr. Moneybags over here!” she cheers.

that sounds great!

Sick, whats your addy so I know where to pick up my gf ;)

I give him my address, turn off my phone, and immediately go to my room to take an everything shower and get ready.

I’m finishing up my hair at 5:30 when I get another text: Leaving now, be there in 15 min. I made reservation for 6

I don’t know why I’m so nervous. I was so confident around him last night, but now I feel like a completely different person. I’m terrified I’m gonna be an awkward mess when I get in the car and he’s gonna wonder what happened to the girl he met last night and I won’t even be able to eat I’m so nervous and–

Nope, I’m not worrying anymore. It’s gonna be fine. I triple check everything to make sure I look good, and finally he texts that he’s here.

I grab my bag, go downstairs, and open the front door to our apartment complex, where I’m met with a very familiar face standing next to it. He’s wearing a black short sleeve collared shirt, blue jeans, and a black baseball cap he put on backwards. Man, he looks good as fuck. 

He looks up when he sees me and smiles. “Hi,” he says. “Car’s right there. I was going to come in but then I saw I had to be buzzed into the building and I didn’t know which apartment was yours, so…” It seems that his confidence from last night has lessened quite a bit as well, as now he’s just awkwardly rambling. I find it adorable.

I shake my head and smile. “You’re fine, this is perfect.” I follow his lead to his car, and am surprised when he opens the passenger door for me. “Thank you,” I say as I get in, and he shoots me another quick smile before closing the door and going to the driver’s side. 

“So Boa, huh? You really are trying to show off your YouTube bucks,” I joke.

“Me and my brothers go there a lot, it’s not really that expensive,” he says. 

“Speak for yourself! I was looking at the menu and almost had an aneurysm at the prices!”

He laughs and glances at me. “Well lucky for you, you’re not the one paying, are you?”

We continue our banter for a few minutes before there’s a lull in the conversation. “Do you wanna put some music on? Here’s the aux cord,” he tells me, pulling out a cord.

“Oh,” I say, immediately regretting all my life choices. I am historically NEVER on aux in any situation because my music taste is comprised of Taylor Swift, dad rock, and depressing music. “Um… you may not like my music. We can just play whatever you like.”

He looks at me wearing a tiny frown. “What! You’re the passenger, you get aux. Whatever you play will be fine.”

I sigh dramatically as I plug my phone in and queue Taylor. “Okay, but if you don’t like it, just remember I gave you a chance to say no.” He nods. I watch his face to gauge his reaction as “The Story of Us” starts to play, and I roll my lips into my mouth to hide my laughter when he recognizes the voice. 

“Yayyyy,” he says sarcastically. “I love Taylor Swift…”

The rest of the drive consists of me explaining to him that if he was willing to give her music a try, he would definitely enjoy her music. I was fully expecting him to laugh it off and come back with some smart ass comment about her as nearly every other man does, but he seemed genuinely interested in what I was saying. “You’re right,” he told me. “Maybe we can listen together and you can show me more of her stuff!”

I think I fell in love right there.

When we arrive at Boa, the man nearly eats shit rushing around to open the passenger door for me, and walks slightly ahead of me to get the door for the restaurant. Neither of us have any ounce of the same flirty energy we had last night, but there’s no awkwardness at all. I still can’t believe this is happening. The hottest guy I’ve ever seen, he’s a perfect gentleman, we have so much in common, and he’s actually into me? It seems far too good to be true.

“So,” I say when we get seated, “what exactly made you feel the need to come up to me last night? Did I really look that uncomfortable?”

“Oh, you looked like you were about ready to sink into the floor. I mean, in all honesty, I was kind of eyeing you all night but I didn’t have the courage to come up to you, so I guess I sort of used that as an excuse to do something. Plus saving you from creepy guy and all,” he replies.

“Well, thank you, no matter what your reasoning was.” I look around the restaurant. I feel so out of place, it’s disgusting. I’ve only lived in LA for a couple months, so I still feel like I don’t belong, especially when I end up in the same restaurants that people get papped outside of. But somehow, even in a place like this, I feel oddly safe and at peace with a man that I met not even 24 hours prior. 

I’ve never been much of a great conversationalist; if I’m in a one on one conversation, the other person needs to be a rambler for it to not be awkward. But he’s not a rambler, and we both are just so invested in what the other person is saying that it’s somehow a never ending conversation. We have so much in common – our love for movies, Legos, journaling, us both attempting to get back into reading after going so long without it – I feel like I’ve known him my whole life. It’s so refreshing, and it’s terrifying. I know I’m going to fall for him fast. I may be already, but I can’t be. We just met. 

He pulls me out of my trance by repeating his question. “You ready to go?”

“What? Oh, yeah, sorry. Um, thanks for paying,” I smile as I get up. 

“Of course! What kind of a man would I be if I didn’t pay on our first date?” he jokes. 

“Ohhh, our first date? Does that imply there’ll be a second?” I ask as I get in the car.

“Would you like there to be a second?” 

“I mean I guess…” I smirk at him. We’re both looking at each other, smiling ever so slightly. I want nothing more than to kiss him right now, and I’m 99% sure he wants the same based on the way his eyes are shifting focus from my eyes to my lips. I’m about to lean in when –

“I should get you home.”

Oh. I nod. “Yeah… yeah, probably.” I sit back in my seat.

He turns on the car and Taylor Swift blasts through the speakers. “JESUS–” he yells, turning the volume down as we both start laughing. “I know I said you could show me her stuff but let’s take it down a notch, god damn!”

We don’t talk at all during the drive home, but it’s nice. Just the music in the background, and subtle glances between us every so often. When we pull up in front of my apartment complex, he parks the car and turns it off, then starts to get out.

“You don’t need to get out, it’s okay,” I tell him.

“Well I have to make sure you get into your apartment safe, don’t I?” Again, what a gentleman. I didn’t even think people like him existed anymore. I smile to myself and lead the way, taking him up to the 4th floor and down the hall to my door. “I guess this is where I leave you?” he asks.

“Unfortunately, this is where you leave me.” I’m looking up at him, he’s looking down at me. I can tell he wants to say something, and I hope it’s what I think it is.

He opens his mouth, takes a sharp inhale. “Can I kiss you?”

Bingo. I smile and nod, holding his jaw lightly in my hand. He takes my waist with one hand and the back of my head with the other, and our lips collide softly in a matter of seconds. I haven’t kissed many guys, but they’ve always felt just a little off and I never knew why. But this? This feels right. It’s gentle, but our tongues slip into each other's mouths as the kiss grows deeper. I know I need to stop this here, as much as I don’t want to. I give in for a few more seconds before I pull back. 

“I, um… I need to go inside,” I tell him, completely unable to wipe the smile off my face.

“Okay,” he says, pushing a piece of hair behind my ear. “I’ll text you, because yes, there definitely will be a second date.”

“Good.” I kiss him one last time before I unlock my door. “Goodnight, Matt.”

“Goodnight.”

———————————————————————

i probably won’t do a part 3 because idk how to keep it interesting from here but if you have other fic requests lmk and i’ll do my best 😚

[transmutationisms]

Hello so you said something about being pro-drug and I’m not 100% sure what you meant by it. I am absolutely for the decriminalization of all drugs ever. But like. Are you pro-using? Not that I’m anti users at all but i wouldn’t say I’m pro-using… just like based on my own experiences and my loved ones experiences and like what very hard drugs do to your body and mind and how they can like. Kill you. I 🩷 users and addicts and i don’t think criminalizing anything helps but… I’m prob misinterpreting your post so this may be a stupid question but I’ve seen all types of opinions on here so idk.

sarcastic answer, it's exactly this type of reaction that makes me think a truly pro-drugs stance is what communism needs today

less sarcastic answer, if drugs are the thing that makes someone's life tolerable and livable and even pleasurable then it would be uh, pretty fucking hypocritical of me to take issue with them using

even less sarcastic answer, you are overestimating the extent to which the danger of even "very hard drugs" (define that) comes from the drugs themselves rather than from the conditions of use: insecure supply driving desperation and making overdose more likely; black market making overdose more likely; intolerable conditions of living making using more necessary; &c. i can't speak to your life or loved ones but in my life i have observed and engaged in many different patterns of substance use, ranging from 'casually & occasionally using substances w high addiction potential' to 'intensely and compulsively using substances w much lower addiction potential' and everything in between. you are also jumping from "drugs" straight to "very hard drugs" (again, define that). drugs is an inclusive category: you need to be thinking here of substances ranging from heroin to caffeine to ibuprofen to xanax to ayahuasca to surgical anaesthetic cocktails.

really dead serious answer, yes, drugs can be dangerous. so can driving, working, and exercising. drugs can also be immensely beneficial, and that goes for drug use that's 'purely recreational' and pleasurable. as a matter of basic self-determination and autonomy, yes, i will defend people's right to get high for any reason they choose. as a matter of basic prison abolition politics i will defend that right twice over. i will also defend needle exchanges, social (not state) support systems, and the communist project of making the world a just and tolerable place to live in. but humans have enjoyed substance use for literally millennia, i personally enjoy substance use, and i don't think fearing it is politically useful or interpersonally helpful. at core, 'drug use' is simply the consumption of a substance that alters a person's psychological or physiological functioning in some way. it's not inherently 'good' or 'bad', morally or from a health perspective. what it is, though, is a common part of human existence, and not one i think can or should be eradicated.

[takamiwife]

Got sick and can not stop coughing at all and yhe worst part is my period started the same time rip

Could i request a lil comfort thing for hawks or dabi comforting the reader who is sick and also feels even worse cause she has rlly bad cramps?

AWW I HOPE YOURE FEELING BETTER :(( sorry this is likely out after you’re all better but this still deserves to be written !! if you’ve submitted something to my inbox dw, i have seen it and it’s in my drafts, im just going in order!! 💞 also, there’s some sex and the city spoilers toward the end of it, for season 3, so just watch out for that if you’re watching it/interested in watching it!

well, sick season was back and hit you full force. you woke up, your throat feeling like it had been scratched by a thousand cats and your nose stuffed. you groaned, your voice barely coming out above a whisper. you shuffled out into the kitchen, nearly passing out from reaching up into the cabinet to get some tea.

“baby? are you okay? you’re up early” keigo yawned, following you out into the kitchen

all it took was for you to turn around, looking at keigo; tired, darkened eyes, puffy cheeks, and your body being able to stand.

“jesus, you definitely are not,” he frowned, putting a hand to your forehead. “you don’t feel like you have a fever… here, come on, sit down,” he guides you over to the couch, watching as you slump against the comfortable throw pillows. he hands you the remote and moves back into the kitchen, immediately making you some tea — you never seemed to have an appetite when you were sick, but hopefully you could handle this.

after adorning your tea with honey, he moved back to the couch, placing them in front of you, replacing the throw pillows with his own body as you lay on his lap.

you whimper, holding your stomach; as if everything else wasn’t bad enough, the universe decided to curse you with cramps too.

he stroked your hair, using a few of his feathers to retrieve the pill bottle from the bathroom, not wanting to move from his position. he opened the red-capped bottle, tapping a few pills into his hand. “here, cmon, you can sit up for me right?” he coos, helping you sit up and make sure you toon the pills, hopefully to at least help with the pain. “there we go, that’s my girl” he smiled

“don’t you have work?” you say quietly, moving your head back down to his lap.

“i can be a little late, they can manage without me. don’t worry about it, alright?” he said softly, running his hands along your side.

now, had you woken up with dabi, it would go a little different.

you lay in your shared bed, surrounded by his scent, but your boyfriend was nowhere to be found. he had been out all night doing.. god knows what with the league, and you had woken up with all of the worst symptoms imaginable. you scrolled on your phone, praying he’d be back soon so he could help you.

luckily, something listened, as he cracked the door open, trying his best to be quiet; a surprisingly sweet gesture from him when he was out all night on missions.

“shit, are you okay?” he kneeled in front of you. “you look awful”

“thanks for the reminder,” you say through a stuffed nose. “my throat is on fire, i can barely breathe through my nose, and of course i have to have fucking cramps..”

“well.. hey, at least you aren’t pregnant” he shrugged

you glare at him, a small part of you finding the silver lining a bit amusing

“can you.. help me, please? you know, like a good boyfriend?” you hide your smile

“uhh…” dabi trailed off, playing with a strand of your hair. of course he wanted to help, he just.. didn’t really know how. he didn’t really get sick, and if he did he just popped whatever pill was in his cabinet and said fuck it and continued on. “yea.. what do you want? we’ve probably got a whole stash somewhere - xanax, percocet, oxy, if you want something a little stronger.. uh, a little coke might not hurt, just rub it on your gums”

“are you insane?” you stare at him blankly. “do you just have, like.. tylenol? midol? anything like that? and not.. crushed up and in a line. in pill form”

“yea, yea, let me go check. pussy..” he muttered, shooting you a smirk.

you used your little strength to smack his arm, unable to hide your smile.

after digging around under his sink, he was finally able to find some normal, non-hard drug tylenol.

he returned to you, holding onto your side as you sat up, taking the pills with a swig of water.

“you uh.. really don’t feel good, do you?”

“you couldn’t tell?” you ask through your scratchy voice.

as you lay back down, he looked at you, your eyes closing as you groaned. he tried to remember back when he was a child; there was a short period of time where he got quite sick during the winter, and his mother was nothing short of a saint. cartoons, warm soup, medicinal tea, cool wash clothes on the forehead.. the whole nine yards. it was clear that what you needed right now was him, and he was more than willing to give that to you.

“c’mere..” he shuffled beside you, pulling you onto his chest. “are you.. hungry? do you want anything warm? that’d help your throat, right?”

“not right now.. just wanna sleep right now..” you say into his chest, and he pulls the warm blanket over you, kissing your head as you fall back asleep, finally sound and able.

now, as you fell back asleep on keigo’s lap, he knew he couldn’t ignore his work any longer or they’d have his head on a spike. in an indiana-jones style move, he replaced his lap with a pillow, draping a blanket over your sleeping form. he kneeled in front of you, watching you sleep as he kissed your forehead.

“i’ll be back soon, okay? i’m sorry i have to leave..” he whispered, brushing some hair away from your face.

luckily, with the day being quite boring, within about three hours of working, he was able to convince his side kicks to take over for the day; “you guys can handle this, i have a sick girlfriend i need to take care of. i mean, what horrible things are going to happen, it’s a random tuesday.”

back at home, you stirred back to life, the pain now having subsided a decent amount. you reach for your phone on the coffee table that sat beside your tea, clicking keigo’s contact. he picked up rather quickly, his voice being a comfort on the other line.

“hey my love, finally awake huh?” you could hear his smile through the screen.

“yea, i just woke up”

“ah, well your throat sounds a bit better. how are the cramps?”

“um, a lot better.. sorry to make you late, but i appreciate you staying with me”

keigo chuckled

“they were fine without me, love. actually, i just left them”

“what? but-“

“but nothing. i’m on my way home, want me to get your favorite?”

you sit up, smiling. “…if it isn’t too much trouble”

“i figured you’d say that. i’m already on my way there. i’ll see you soon, okay?”

“okay.. i love you”

“i love you too”

still being held in dabi’s arms, you slept surprisingly soundly despite everything. he slipped out of your grip, making sure you were comfortable before going to the raggedy kitchen downstairs, searching for anything that could make you feel better. but he was doubtful the crumbs in the dirty cupboards would help much. so, with no other choice, he put on his hoodie and a mask, pulling it up over his nose, less likely to be recognized.

so, after walking a few blocks to the nearest convenience store (that also happened to have a deli), he returned home with your favorite soup, a box of tea bags, and an ice cream bar for you to enjoy later if you felt better. after placing the ice cream in the fridge, he made a nice warm cup of tea (thanks to the help of his quirk) and brought that, along with your soup up to the room, setting it on the bedside table.

“hey,” he shook you gently. “i got you something.”

“mmh.. you’re supposed to let sick people sleep.” you whined.

“fine, go on and sleep, but your soup is gonna get cold”

you opened your eyes; okay, you were quite hungry now. you reluctantly sat up, placing your back against the wall.

“there she is,” he grinned slyly. “morning sunshine” he said, handing you the cup of soup with the plastic spoon. “and there’s um.. tea, too.”

“wow, you really went all out, huh?” you smile from over the cup.

“of course i did. it’s for you, after all.” he brushed it off.

“well, thank you honey.” you coo, gently scratching his chin. damn, he loved when you did that.

he sat beside you, occasionally accepting bites of your soup.

“if i get sick from this, you’re so dead” he

“you’d love me taking care of you, don’t lie”

“…fair enough”

within about forty five minutes, keigo had returned home, takeout bags in hand as you paused your show. he placed them down on the coffee table in front of you, unpacking them.

“thank you, kei. i mean it, really. you didn’t have to do all this.” you say, smiling at him as he came back with plates for the two of you.

“what do you mean? of course i did. i love you, and you didn’t feel good, so of course i had to help you feel better.” he said, placing the food onto a plate and handing it to you.

“well, still-“

“still nothing,” he cut you off, leaning toward you. “you take care of me all the time. this was nothing compared to all you do for me.”

your heart swelled as you stared at his determined face.

“now, catch me up. what’s going on with the girls?” he gestured to the tv.

“well, carrie just cheated on aidan with mr. big…”

after a few hours of lazing about and watching your favorite show on dabi’s phone, he returned to the room with his hands behind his back.

“i got something else for you, too… figured since you’re feeling better..” he pulled out the wrapped ice cream bar, holding it out to you.

“oh, baby..”

“i know it’s not the best, but it could help your throat feel better and.. i dunno, you like ice cream, so..”

you sit up on your knees on the bed, pulling him into a hug.

and as you enjoy your treat, he sits beside you.

“so, feeling better?”

“much. thank you, doctor.” you tease.

“well.. good. i don’t like seeing you like this.”

you lean your head on his shoulder, holding your ice cream up to him.

as much as he hated seeing you sick, dabi loved taking care of you for the day. of course he wanted you to feel better, but.. he wouldn’t mind another day of holding you in bed.

[luna-andra]

Domesticated!König Headcanons: Meeting the future In-Laws ✨

Image: @Skavod29 on Twitter (Source)

I was floored by how much attention my first headcanon post got. Y'all had me fucking emotional and I am so happy it's something people actually like. It keeps me coming back to post more of my silly little ideas. Forever grateful for your support! ❤️

I also need to reiterate that my blog/posts are 18+ so MDNI, this one has some NSFW bonus HCS 💋

If you missed the first one, here :) StepDad!Konig is here!

I got other stuff! Masterlist pinned on my blog

When you decided it was time for your parents and König to meet, you were tempted to slip a Xanax into his morning coffee. It is not like he hasn’t said a polite hello and a few words over the phone or when you facetime them, but now he was finally meeting them in person. You’ve seen him more calm talking to two- and three-star generals than this, the kinds of things that rattled your nerves.

You swore he changed attire more times than you did. The sight of him re-rolling his sleeves on his button up shirt made you intervene before he undid them all over again. He paused when your hands held his, then flicked his azure eyes up to you. “They’re gonna love you, my king.” Your gentle smile and comforting words got through to him.

They welcomed you and the mystery man with open arms at their front door. Mom never knew how to keep her thoughts to herself, but she really did mean well. Of course, the first thing they all notice is how König has to duck under their doorway to come inside. “You weren’t lying when you said he was tall,” mom said. You gave her a warning look followed up with an apologetic smile to König. He managed to chuckle it off, it was nothing new for him. It did make him curious about what else you’ve said to your mom about the two of you.

You gave König a tour of your childhood home, nearly having to pry him from the wall of photos of you and your family. He had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face of the little timeline displayed in pretty frames; your first elementary school photo, a photo of you in a boy/girl scouts uniform, another of you during extra-curricular activities (band/orchestra, JROTC, sports, theater, robotics team, etc.), a prom photo with you and old friends, and lastly your high school graduation picture. König wanted a copy of one of them to keep in his wallet, mom promised to get him one behind your back.

König's field day got better when you showed him your childhood bedroom. Depending on how you last had it decorated, you were either low key bashful or regretting even showing him. It was like traveling back in time for him, giving him a glimpse of the kid and teen, you used to be. A chance to fall in love with every facet of you.

He was getting more comfortable when he found out your dad wasn’t out to get him as much as he thought. They ended up sitting in the living room, talking about a topic after your dad played twenty questions to figure him out. Something either about guns, hunting, hiking, fishing, blue-collar work, and if your dad is a veteran, they got along faster than you could imagine. You and mom caught up in the kitchen as you helped her finish up with cooking and setting the table.

If you have siblings, they showed up in the nick of time before dinner, to share embarrassing stories of you when you were a kid, or the stories you all waited to tell when you all were adults to avoid from getting in trouble. König watched and listened as you got more animated with laughter. Loving every second of this. He had a handful of memories he could count on his hand that were of happier times, but your memories became his favorite ones.

Everyone pestered the two of you for the story of how you met. And since you’ve been doing most of the talking, you looked to König to tell the tale. Your eyes never left him as he started the story from his point of view, recollecting the moment he saw you and how he was trying to come up with an excuse to try and talk to you. It donned on you that this was the first time you were hearing the way he saw you. “And now we’re here,” he concluded, looking over to you with a grin and a touch to your hand underneath the table.

NSFW Bonus:

König couldn’t stop thinking about taking you in your childhood room, nearly fantasizing what it would’ve been like if the two of you met as teens/younger adults. Indulging in the idea of sneaking into your bedroom window or standing outside with a boombox in 80s/90s style fashion.

Of course, your parents offered you to stay with them, not wanting you to have to rent a hotel room or travel back (depending on how far away you lived from them), so the later the night got, the more distracted König became with fulfilling his dirty thoughts.

It was just like the old days, having you home and hearing the music coming from your speakers when someone passed by the doorway. You were just showing König your CD collection, right?

It definitely wasn’t because you were trying to muffle your moans and screams as he pounded you into that fucking mattress. Making you a drooling and brainless mess under his rutting hips. He kept praising you for taking him so well and for being so quiet like the good little fuck thing you were, making it harder not to cum so fast. Secretly, this was your fantasy too, and you wanted it to last a little longer than the 10 minutes of foreplay and fucking you had already endured.

Likes & reblogs are always appreciated! Stay tuned for more to this unexpected series! Asks are opened for requests & ideas for others.

[godhandler]

dealer!Shoko x addict!reader, addicted to Shoko that is, no way jjk society doesn’t have a rampant drug problem, light smut, drugs, tragic yuri <3

“Shoko, I got a boo-boo here.” You tap your lips. “Kiss it away?”

“Just take your drugs and go.”

-----

Shoko is of the variety of women who survive. Born for it, in a way, with her coveted powers. You could fold her paper-hollow bones into a pretzel with very little effort, but nothing could truly kill her. 

It’s not like that for the majority of the sorcerers who file daily into her infirmary. Or the attached mortuary. For them (and you) a little something extra is needed to keep inevitable death from constantly poaching their minds. Yaga looks the other way if a few boxes of Xanax go missing unprescribed. 

But that’s not what you’re sitting on her operating table for. You’re of a more civilised sort: your addiction is Shoko, as you declare while blowing her a finger-heart. 

“And Klonopin.” Shoko deadpans, throwing you two packets of the aquarium-blue itty bitty pills that make your life itty bitty bearable. And then a hard-plastic bottle: “Pass these on to Nanami, will you?”  

“Du-ra-morph?” The print is so small you have to squint to read. 

“Painkillers. He’s always aching somewhere.” That makes sense, that man is worked to the bone. You wonder how much of his paycheck goes to this and the Zyn habit that stayed with him since his investment banker days.

“He’s taking a break after this mission. Shoko, let’s do that too, the countryside is calling.”

It’d be nice to take her out of this sour 9 x 9 mortuary she exists in. You think of the fresh air, swaying red poppies, fish in lakes, open skies up ahead: a water-coloured Ghibli movie. The guarantee of growing old with your loved ones. When you turn your head, Shoko will be right there, right next to you. 

She considers it, leaning on the desk and lighting a cigarette. You pop a pill dry, the foil packet crinkling, watching her.

Dark circles that nothing could fix. Eyes red with the constant smoke. Thin wrists, creased fingertips. Gorgeous. 

The clock ticks 2 past midnight. Klonopin isn’t cutting it, especially not tonight: Shoko can tell by the lines on your brow. 

“Want something else? On me.” She leaves her cigarette in the safety of your lips to reach under the desk, pawing for the most expensive lifesavers she hides (she won’t tell for whom). 

You can’t resist it. “Nice ass, babe.”

“I know,” she straightens up, holding the baggie out for you. At first you’re offended– why would Shoko offer you crack as if she doesn’t even know you, but then it clicks that it’s heroin, purer white than you’ve ever seen before. Fuck. That has to be a small fortune, even wedding rings come cheaper.

“Is this how you’re saying that you love me, Shoko? Because I–”

She never gets to know what you’ll say next because you (very rudely, she thinks) blow the smoke in her face. It’s fun to tease Shoko. Keeps morale up and feelings away.  

You gingerly sniff into the baggie. “Don’t kill me, but it smells like your pussy.” Shoko pointedly refuses to reply, busying wiping a glass cup clean with the tail of her lab coat. “Not in a bad way. Doesn’t taste anything like your pussy, don’t worry.”

“When are you leaving?” 

“Relax, woman.” You pull up the sleeves of your blazer– standard Jujutsu High issue, rank stamped on the collar. These smoke detectors aren’t to be fucked with; injection it is. The inside of your pock-marked elbow (your hands shake sometimes) are always itchy. “You’ll cry about me after I’m dead.”

She would. Soon. 

But for now she simply hands you the syringe and the glass: 22,000 yen per uncut gram, dissolved in water. All for you. A token of love. 

Over her long existence (long enough, she says), Shoko Ieri had learnt of the utter uselessness of romance. What good could she do with a flower bouquet, eat it like a horse? At least promise rings  could be resold on eBay. And chocolates end up being saved for Halloween. Looking as good as she did, she never had to go Halloween shopping: the candy accumulated from various stupid men throughout the year was always more than enough. 

Somedays she’d rock back in her chair and count all the beams on the infirmary roof. Name them after the people who confessed their love to her. Yours doesn’t come up. 

But not even Shoko could deny that this was romantic. You always claim that you can’t inject yourself (even though you have no problem doing so on mission trips) and every time you just have to wrap your arms around her neck to steady yourself. Scared of needles, my ass. 

The tip of the syringe at your skin, her hair in your eyes. Pricking. “Distract me.”

You feel euphoria fill your vein the moment Shoko’s tongue warms yours. She tastes of unflavoured Blackstone smoke, depression left untreated for a decade. Poppy fields. The promise of love. You bite her lip, feeling her moan in your mouth.

Breath on cold breath, you know how she likes to be kissed: hold her jaw firm, tilt her head, suck on her bottom lip while you tell her that you missed her. Push your tongue into her mouth. Claw red lines down her neck, into her collarbones. Her heart, pressed against yours, thumps painfully. 

You could press through her unsunned skin and tear it out whole, dissect every inch with her scalpel and yet find nothing but holes in there. Too many cigarettes. Too many friends on her autopsy table. 

Your blood trickles lightly from the puncture, staining her lab coat. Come the news tomorrow, she wouldn’t ever have the heart to wash it out. 

“Here, baby?”

Orgasms that have made you cry, body-shaking and toes-curling, made you fall in love, none of that could hold a candle to the weightless paradise of a heroin high. Warm sunshine. Grass under your feet. One day you’ll get a little cottage with Shoko by those poppy fields, sorcerer business far away from both your minds. 

Shoko’s voice answers like angel-song, “Here, yes.” 

Wind off the cliff you’re standing on whips your skin. Her hand handles your lightheavy head, pushes your face into her tits, shirt tucked up under her neck, her fingers tightening in your nape-hair. 

You’re lying face down on the ground, earthworms and rats scurrying along. Damp dirt. Cool on your cheek. Shoko’s grip stings your scalp. She thinks, moaning, of cutting you when you lick the cigarette ash off the top of her boob. Must be a careless flick that went through her collar. Tastes bitter. Soft dirt. Refuse of the earth. Melting bones, melting muscles, melting skin– all soaked up into the ground you lie flat on. 

You’re too far gone to do anything; Shoko doubts that you can even see her. Your practised hands struggle to pull her bra down, you’re drooling on her tits in what she assumes is an attempt to leave hickeys. Flags pitched on the moon, ‘I was here’. Remember me, please. Remember me when I’m gone.

Rats and earthworms decompose your remains until you return to whence you came from. Peace. Natural death. Order of life. 

It’s soft.

Shoko is still sitting in the cottage, waiting for you to come back. 

She kisses your forehead, letting your faded self rot on her chest. “I wuvv yooo.” It’s comforting, almost motherly, wiping the excess spit off your lips, uncontrollable tears from your eyes. “Sokoo, I wuv yoooo. I’ll commme bak-backk. I’ll come, pwomiseee.” 

Shoko keeps looking around, lonely in the cottage. None of her loved ones are here. Not even you. Shoko keeps sitting alone. Waiting. 

You’re crying hysterically, fully gone. 2.45 am– she manhandles you off her, fixes your clothing, slips you some more Klonopin packets sheathed with emergency aluminium foil.  You’ll need them tomorrow: Shibuya will be difficult. Kisses you good-bye, drool be damned, sends you off in an assistant manager’s car. You keep garbling that you love her and that you’ll come back. 

You won’t. Shoko has heard this lie many times before. 

a/n: Gojo doesn’t partake in any drugs at all. At the lowest point in his life, Geto smoked a bit, tried Xanax once, but has been completely clean ever since. Gakuganji is fucked up on all uppers man, you don’t become a rock guitarist without cocaine/LSD fueling you. Utahime needs codeine/Xanax/Klonopin to sleep, mixes with alcohol. Yuta smokes, sometimes and secretly. Maki is clean. Kamo keeps a pack of Zyns (undetectable cigs in a way) by his bedside drawer. 

All too often people think of drug-addicts as meth heads lying in the gutter, while it's more common to be a completely normal functioning member of the society whose life rests on the relief that their chosen drugs bring them. 

Because there are kids reading my works, I feel the need to say this. Many people do drugs for different reasons, none of which are for us to judge, especially if they’re strangers. But if you ever feel like ‘trying out’ drugs for any reason, draw Noritoshi Kamo instead. Pick a pencil and paper or your phone and just keep drawing that man. God knows we need more fanart of him. Stay away from all this nonsense, kids. 

[therealcocoshady]

Recovery - Chapter 1

Eminem x Reader (Y/N) fanfiction

Summary : Y/N is getting sober and trying to rebuild her life after a hard breakup when she meets Marshall Mathers.

Tags : mention of SA ; Miscarriage ; Addiction

Author’s note : this is my first shot a my writing a fanfiction. Hope you enjoy it x

Chapter 1

- Thank you for having me, you said to Talia.

- No problem, baby. You stay as long as you need to, she answered while giving me a hug.

You looked around, taking everything in. In a matter of days, you had lost nearly everything. It all started when you woke up in the hospital, several tubes attached to your body.

FLASHBACK

Apparently, you had been in a coma for three days. Simon, your boyfriend of two years was sitting in a chair next to your bed.

- I can’t believe you did it again, Y/N.

- It’s not what you think, Simon.

- It is exactly what I think. You need help. You need to get yourself together. Next time you might not be so lucky. You might actually die, he said.

Dying. To be fair you hadn’t really tried to kill yourself. It was more complicated than that and Simon knew it.

- I’m sorry, you said, trying to hold his hand.

- No, he simply answered, taking his hand off yours.

He looked at you with a piercing gaze, not saying a word for what felt like forever. He didn’t need to, anyway. You already knew it was over.

- I love you, Y/N. I really do. But I can’t go on like this. You need to seek treatment, he said with tears in his eyes.

- I just wanted to sleep, you know, you tried to explain.

- By taking over 100 pills of Xanax ?! Are you fucking kidding me ? He asked, fire coming from his eyes.

- I…

Tears started rolling on your cheeks. As much as you knew you had done something terribly stupid, you wished he wouldn’t break up with you. You wished he would understand.

- Simon, don’t do this, you pleaded.

- I’m sorry, he simply said, getting up and grabbing his jacket. You have a problem and I cannot deal with it.

He walked towards the door and faced you for the last time.

- Your stuff will be packed when you get out of here.

And there it was. Shortly after moving in with your boyfriend, you were homeless.

END OF FLASHBACK

- Are you ok, Y/N ? Talia asked.

- Yeah. Sorry. I just… I can’t believe it’s over, you said. I really screwed up.

She gave you a big hug again.

- What’s done is done. Now you need to focus on getting better, she said.

- Thank you for being here for me. And allowing me to move in with you. And not judging me.

- What you need now is not judgement. It’s support. I am a bit mad though, she explained. I wish you had come clean to me about all those prescription pills.

- I thought I could manage, you tried to explain.

- Well you thought wrong.

Your best friend was being hard on you, and she had every right to be. For months, you had been lying through your teeth to everyone in your life. You had pretended that you were this happy-go-lucky girl who had it together. On the outside, you had everything : you were successful in your PhD research at university of Michigan, a loving boyfriend you had just moved in with and a tight-knit circle of friends who loved you unconditionally. But deep down, you had been unable to handle the pressure of your studies and, the hardest thing of all, you had lost your baby, going through a miscarriage at 13 weeks of pregnancy.

- You should rest before I take you to your meeting, Talia said. And then, we’ll go to the studio. Jamal invited us.

- Do we have to ? I think I’d rather come back here right after the meeting, you pleaded.

- Meeting new people will be good for you, she said. And I won’t lie : I don’t think you should be alone in here.

She was making it clear that she didn’t trust you. After all, how could you possibly prove that you weren’t going to be popping pills as soon as you were alone ?

- Right, you said.

She left you to your new room. Thank God she and Jamal, her boyfriend, were living in a big house with plenty of room to spare.

Jamal was a beat maker and producer and had made quite a name for himself. He was now starting to work with famous people. One of them was Eminem. You weren’t a big fan, although you did enjoy some of his most well-known music. In fact, this man was to be credited for you learning how to swear in English, as you’d learned the language by watching movies and listening to music. You hadn’t listened to him in a long time though and you were kind of wondering what he was up to, now.

Talia sometimes went to the studio with Jamal and she was getting along with everyone. According to her, “Em” (as she called him) was a great guy and she was pretty sure the two of you would get along.

FAST FORWARD

You had officially made it through your first NA meeting. It had been emotional but you were glad you went. Now was the time you dreaded : meeting everyone at the studio. As much as you appreciated Talia’s efforts to help you clear your head, you weren’t exactly the social type.

As the two of you entered the studio, you were greeted by half a dozen people. As soon as he saw you, Jamal got up and have you the biggest hug.

- How did it go ? He asked.

- Uh… it went well, I guess, you answered.

You weren’t particularly intent on talking about it, especially in front of people. Fortunately, Jamal was wise enough not to elaborate. The two of you were close and he knew better than to embarrass you. Still, you were thankful for his concern. From the moment he learned you’d be moving in with them, he had been nothing but supportive. « I know you’ll get through it », he had said.

Talia introduced you to everyone.

- So, this is Y/N, our new roommate and my very best friend, she said.

- How come we never met you before ? Somebody asked.

- Well, Y/N is a scholar so she doesn’t have a lot of time for people with lesser minds, she said jokingly.

You blushed immediately. Your best friend was the most supportive person of your work and she never stopped telling you how proud she was.

- Nice to meet you all, you said a bit awkwardly.

You shook everyone’s hand and you kind of had a shock as you introduced yourself to Eminem. You remembered him from at least fifteen years ago, blonde hair and clean shaven. He was now sporting brown hair as well as a well-trimmed beard. You would never have recognised him, had the two of you crossed path in the street. You couldn’t help but think to yourself that he was rather good looking. And in pretty good shape for an older dude who was in his early fifties. In fact, he did look at least ten years younger.

- Call me Marshall, he said as soon as he shook your hand.

- Ok, Marshall, you said while looking in his deep blue eyes.

He wasn’t as cheerful and smiling as the others, but he wasn’t distant either. You had always pictured him as a loud person, but the man you had in front of you was far from it. In fact, he seemed like the quiet, rather serious type. He looked like he was staring at you as if he was trying to read into your soul.

You joined Talia and sat on one of the big leather couches while everyone got back to working. You looked around and noticed that the studio seemed like a very comfortable, soothing space. For the first time today, you eased a little.

After some time, the group decided to take a break. Most of them went outside to smoke a cigarette and get some air, but you stayed inside. You did indulge in the occasional cigarette but you had been told it would be easier for you to refrain from taking any substance. You tried to be reasonable and not get tempted by the smell.

At some point, you were left with only Marshall, who was listening to the tune they just recorded in his headphones, pushing buttons on the mixing desk.

- So, how long have you been sober ? He asked as he looked at you.

- How do… how do you know ? You asked in shock.

- I was with Talia and Jamal when they got the call about one of their friends behind in the hospital after an OD. And you playing with your NA chip kind of tipped me off, he shrugged.

- Oh. Right. Actually, today was my first meeting, you said and blushed a little.

- Recovery is hard, he pointed out. Congrats on taking the first step.

You didn’t say more and he got back to mixing, as you stayed silent and watched him being extremely focused. As you studied him, you couldn’t help but notice an AA necklace dangling from his neck.

- So you’re in recovery too ? You asked.

- Yeah. Been sober for fifteen years now, he said with a smile.

- Wow. That’s impressive.

- Doesn’t mean it’s always easy, though, he confessed. But it’s 100% worth it.

There were a hundreds of questions going through your mind, but you clearly did not know him enough to ask them. Instead, you just smiled.

- Want to give me your opinion on the track ? He offered with a smile while handing you the headphones.

- I know nothing about music but sure, why not, you said, taking place in the chair next to his.

You placed the headphones on your ears and he played the song. You closed your eyes, in order to concentrate on what you were hearing. You were amazed at how fast this man was able to rap. Yet, you could hear and understand every single word. You particularly enjoyed the rhyming schemes. And, as ever with Jamal, the music was on point.

- it’s good, you said. It’s really good.

- Good to hear, he said with a smile.

The others came back to the room and Talia seemed extatic at the sight of you and Marshall talking. She knew how shy you were and every time you talked to someone new, she saw it as some sort of victory.

- So, people, Jamal said. How about y’all come to our place after ?

Everyone cheered and agreed. From what you gathered, it was usual for the group to meet at Jamal and Talia’s after a long day at the studio, so that they could kick back and get their mind off work. Talia held your hand in hers.

- I forgot Jamal wanted to have people over, I’m so sorry she said.

- It’s fine, you reassured her. But I’d rather stay in my room, if you don’t mind.

As everyone was arriving at Talia and Jamal’s, you said your goodbyes decided to hide in your room. Not that everyone hadn’t been super nice, but you highly suspected that there would be alcohol involved, if not weed. While you were climbing up the stairs, Talia grabbed your arm.

- Are you going to be ok ? There won’t be any hard liquor or anything like that, Y/N. Just a few beers, she said.

- I know, but… it’s been a long day. Meetings, people… I’d rather rest, you reassured her.

- Sure, she said as she gave you a peck on the cheek. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.

As soon as you entered your room, you changed into some comfier clothes : a cream-colored, cashmere set. You removed your makeup and put your hair up in a bun. You weren’t going to see people anyway so why bother ? You decided to watch Friends (your favorite show on Earth) and snuggle under a throw that reminded you of the place you shared with Simon.

After a couple of episodes, you heard a unfamiliar knock.

- come in ? You said.

The door opened and you saw Marshall standing there.

- So, are you hiding ? He asked with a smile.

- Kind of, you admitted.

- You have nothing to be scared of, he said. It’s very chill, downstairs.

- There’s still booze, right ?

- Just beer.

- I don’t really trust myself, you admitted.

- You had a drinking problem too ? He asked.

- Nope. Just pills. But now that they’re gone, I swear I’d take anything just to feel remotely… whatever.

- I feel you, Marshall said.

- Do you ?

- Yes, he simply said, showing his AA necklace.

- How do you feel so comfortable in a setting like this then ? You asked, wondering if you would ever get to the same point.

- It’s been 15 years, he explained. It gets easier with time. Plus, I’ve come to value the person I’ve become much more than the person I used to be when I was using. No money in the world could convince me to come back to that.

- It’s hard, you know. Hiding here when I know what’s going on down there, I said.

- Talia already gave Jamal so much shit about it, he said with a laugh.

This made you smile. Deep down, you knew Jamal didn’t mean harm, so you were kind of hoping Talia wasn’t giving him too much of a hard time.

- Thank you, you whispered. I don’t want to deprive you of your own fun, though.

- It’s fine. I don’t think I’m gonna stick around for long. I wanted to see if you wanted to go for a drive. You know, change your mind …?

- Uh… sure, I replied. Give me 5 minutes so that I can get dressed ?

He left the room and you quickly put together an outfit with a pair of dark wash jeans, a black turtleneck, a pair of knee-high boots and a blazer. You put your hair in a sleek ponytail and added some mascara for good measure. You weren’y trying too hard, but I definitely wanted to make an effort. After all, you had just met him - and he was extremely attractive.

- Ready to go, you said as you emerged of my room.

- Some sweats would have been enough, you know, he said joking.

- Oh. I started blushing.

- You look great though.

He didn’t say a word more and you got downstairs.

- Y/N and I are going on a drive, Marshall announced.

- Wait a minute, Talia said before you got the chance to get through the door.

She looked at both of you.

- No messing around. No drinking. No smoking. Nothing illicit or illegal. And you’d better be back home before midnight.

- Yes, Marshall noted with a chuckle.

- Yes Mom, you said jokingly while giving her a peck on the cheek.

As you got ouf of the house, you got to an impressive car. You were never good at recognising the brands or models, but this one was huge and it seemed like it was really expensive. It was also a bit contrast with Marshall, who did not look like the over-the-top stereotypical rapper. In fact, he was wearing normal clothes - jeans and a hoodie, no luxury logo to be seen.

- Where are you taking me ? I asked.

- You’ll see, he said with a voice full of mystery.

Normally, you wouldn’t have agreed to a car ride with someone you barely knew, but you were so eager to leave the house that you did not really care.

You took place in the car and Marshall started driving.

[olivia091108]

how to be a jackass Introduction

Word count:1.k

Tonight I’m going out with my sister and her boyfriend because apparently ‘I need to get a a life’ which I think is kinda rude but the only reason she’s saying that is because her and her boyfriend are thinking of moving out together but I don’t know anyone around town and she doesn’t think I’m responsible. She’s right

“Are you kidding me we need to leave in a half hour and your still in your pyjama’s chop chop”she claps her hands in my face.

She can get quite stressed when it comes to me I wasn’t the easiest to grow up with I was a bit of a hothead we both have a few stories from tell of our fights which she still has a scar form that she never shuts up about

“Alright calm down I have loads of time” I push myself off the sofa and just as I walk past her I barge her against the wall and quickly scurry to the bathroom and lock the door before she gets crazy.

I walk into my room with a towel wrapped round my body and one in my hair and flick the tv on just to have some noise in the background it was an alright show jackass that I would watch when I get back late and nothing else is on except teleshoping. I don’t have anything against it but they need to step it up cos I know give me 10 or 20 bucks I’ll do anything they do.

I find an old shirt from when I was like 15 or something and picked up some jeans that were laying on the floor before slipping on some shoes.

“See I’m ready in what 5 minutes you need to take some Xanax I swear”

“Your hair is literally dripping” I flip my head back and forth no doubt getting it on her. And walk down to her boyfriend Oliver who was gonna drive us.

Once we get their it’s already kicking off and walk towards the bar but some grown men are standing there ignoring me while I ask them to move so I manage to budge my way through them and get a rum and coke.

I start to sweat being surrounded by 15 people who clearly know nothing about personal space. I see my sister and Oliver talking to some dude and my sister starts pointing me out and calling me over.

Y/n come here so you know that show you love jackas-

Love? No I don’t love it I don’t even like it that much but what does that have to do with anything?

“Y/n”she says my name like my mum used to when I would break something she jerked her head to the man just standing there and at first I’m confused but then I realise who he is Oh shit

you don’t like the show sweetheart?the leader of the show asks

“I mean It’s alright but you could do better.” He laughs a bit at my words “oh yeah what then?”

“Nah I didn’t mean to be rud- no I’m serious what do you think”

“Do more nasty shit or more extreme stuff and more painful stunts all in saying is anything you lot do I could do if I knew I was getting paid or just for a laugh”

Ill buy you a drunk if you make out with that man at the bar he points to a fat man who is drenached with sweat and is missing a tooth at the bottom

“Easy.”

I walk over to him and straight up grab his face and kiss him slipping my tongue and feel him grab a handful of my ass and a few seconds later pull away and walk back over to Johnny using the bottom of my shirt to try and wipe my tongue

“Ok your’e turn Pants that biker playing pool” Johnny looks at him and he looks like he will smash his face in. He walks over there and waits till he has his back to him and as hard as he can yanks his jeans down with his boxers coming as well exposing his bare crack Johnny turns round and ores tends to be in a conversation with some random lady.

The man pulls Johnny to face him and holds him by the colour getting redder and redder. His friends start crowding him and they look like they’re gonna jump him so I walk over and tell him.

“Sir they ran into the bathroom he didn’t do it.”

He lets go of Johnny and storms towards the bathroom with his friends following hot on his heals. I burst out laughing making my eyes water.

“I was about to get my ass kicked”Johnny said joining in on your’e laugh.

The night progressed like this having a couple drinks doing some dares. I didn’t even know that Olivier and my sister left. Some of his fiends joined in.

Running along the bar naked then getting pushed off -Chris

I poured salt in my eye

Ehren getting pool balls thrown at him.

And obviously Steve o lit himself on fire spreading it onto my hair

And so on by the end we were all drunk as fuck and had been kicked out.

I wake up with a throbbing head ache and open my eyes but getting blinded by the lights once they adjust I’m in the bath but I don’t recognise it. I get out and try and find out where I am I hear voices so I walk towards it and then it clicks.

We got kicked out and went back to Steve os apartment carrying on the night everything else’s is a bit hazy right now.

I see all of them in the living room chatting and I also see Steve o wearing my shirt that is 4 sizes too small and some boxers.

Hey Steve o can I have my shirt back I groggily ask making them look towards me probably forgetting I was here.

Yeah dude. He takes it off and throws it at me and I take off the one in wearing and give it to him.I turn around and change

“Dude that bruise is gnarly” I look down at my hip bone and see it decorated with a purple bruise from when I tried to break the door down.

“Y/n you weren’t bullshitting last night we’re you? Johnny asks

“What about?”

“Well we were thinking you were right we gotta be more exciting and you seemed pretty into it would you wanna join.”

“No offence babe but Johnny she was drunk as shit she won’t do any of it sobre”

“Try me.”

Time skip

“Im y/n y/l/n and this is electric mouse trap.”

I stick out my tongue and let Chris clip it on to my tongue and immediately feel the electricity. I Jump around in pain trying to keep it in as long as I can to prove to them I can do it. I Shake my head and rip It off my tongue and It feels numb. I try to speak but all that’s coming out is jibberish and everyone including myslef laugh.

“Welcome to jackass y/n”

Guys I’m baaaack

This will be a slower burn series of bam x reader and jackass girl don’t know how often I will post but I’ve planned at least 3 chapters and I’m so excited message me any headcannons you wnat in this

Ik bam wasn’t in this but just you wait

My requests are still open

-liv

[that-guy-sleepy-miles]

Hi! This is your drug TW!

Okay, so, I've deduced what Rayman is snorting in this scene:

It's benzos. he's snorting straight xanax.

How do I know it's benzodiazepines? Here we go:

The blue color

Originally, I choked the blue color up to being a stylistic choice. I didn't think the blue color mattered, and that he was in fact snorting cocaine. However, the blue color does matter—cocaine is white, and benzodiazepines (in the hard pill form you can crush up and snort) are colored, usually blue.

The red eyes

For a while, I was like "Is this a Breaking Bad reference? Is he snorting biker meth?", but I did more research, methamphetamine doesn't make your eyes red. So we look at the (common) drugs that abuse causes red eyes: Marijuana, Cocaine, Crack, Benzodiazepines, Depressants, and Inhalants. And when we look at which one of those is famously blue, we get benzos!

The symptoms

Some symptoms of benzodiapines are: shaking (like the twitching seen after he snorts it, which can also be choked up to the act of snorting itself), confusion and thinking problems (he's having trouble calming down, has racing thoughts, etc.), aggression (most commonly when used with alcohol), and nystagmus (repetitive, uncontrolled movement of the eyes)

(Check the beginning of Episode 5 at these points for twitching and nystagmus)

Why he's taking them.

Cocaine gets you excited, but benzodiapines are calming. Rayman is stressed and scared, taking cocaine would only make that worse for him. He's taking something meant to calm him and relieve stress.

What about the alcohol?

Rayman has mixed benzodiapines with alcohol, very clearly. This comes with it's own host of issues: impaired judgement, unusual behavior, and increased risk of violence. All of these can potentially be seen during episodes 3 and 5, and 6.

Other evidence:

Benzodiapine abuse can leave to nausea and appetite loss. When Rayman throws up later in the episode, we can see that he's not eaten anything that day, and the only thing in his stomach was the juice Bullfrog gave him:

He likely didn't have an appetite, either because of stress or because of the drugs he was taking.