#i wasn't under any influence like first of all i don't do drugs and i barely drink

[stop-talking]

So I'm stuck on this shithole Island, and I can't even have a smoke? (pt. 7)

Derek Danforth x fem reader

Word count: 3.6k

Tags: 18+, Derek x fem reader, no use of y/n, HEAVY angst, fluff, enemies, enemies to lovers, (very) slowburn, sass, banter, suggestive themes, mentions of drug use, withdrawals, rehab, masturbating!!

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

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Derek wakes up long before you do the next morning.

Except, not really. Is it really "waking up" if he never fell asleep in the first place?

He'd insisted on going to bed early, skipping dinner. For once, you hadn't pushed him to reconsider, and he wasn't sure whether to be angry about that or not.

He has plenty of other things to be angry about, anyway.

Derek flings himself onto the couch in a huff, fumbling for the T.V remote. Maybe he could drown out his thoughts with some bullshit movie.

It doesn't really work. His mind keeps wandering back to you. How could you dismiss his feelings so easily? Sure, maybe it's too early to drop to his knees and make a declaration of love... but he's sure there's something between the two of you.

Seriously. You'd given him not one, but TWO kisses yesterday. If you don't like him, you're just being cruel.

Around midmorning, you stumble downstairs, and Derek purposefully ignores your greeting. He doesn't have any especially nice words for you at the moment.

"Have you eaten breakfast yet?" You call out, heading through a doorway and into the adjacent kitchen.

"M'not hungry." He grumbles back, determined to show his displeasure.

There's no response, so he just sighs and curls up on the couch, tucking his face into the cushions and hiding away. He can still feel a bit of lingering embarrassment from yesterday's rejection.

Well, sort-of rejection. Secretly, he was still holding onto some level of hope that you like him. Technically you never told him how YOU feel. You just brushed him off and ran away.

Coward.

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"Sit up. I'm not letting you skip two meals in a row." You gently shake Derek's shoulder and place a plate of food on the coffee table. A simple breakfast, toast and some fruit. Hardly a good offering considering he made you pancakes yesterday, but damnit, you weren't sure he was going to eat at all.

Derek rolls over and stares blankly at the meager breakfast, mumbling some kind of thanks. He doesn't make any effort to sit up and offer you room on the couch... so you make due and perch on the armrest, near his head.

"So... what do you wanna do today?" You ask, trying to remain casual after yesterday's uncomfortable conversation.

Actually, "uncomfortable" might be an understatement. Damn him. Couldn't he see that anything romantic between the two of you is ABSOLUTELY out of the question?

Even ignoring the whole son-of-your-boss thing, (which is disgustingly cliché), he's still a fucking Danforth. Son of the goddamn president. And a billionaire, to boot.

Okay, those qualities were probably attractive to some people. Or most people. But not you.

You look down at the man who is pointedly ignoring your question and poking at his food. No, his wealth and influence were not his best qualities. You much preferred his dorky charm. Hell, even his bratty side could be cute. Sometimes.

"It's toast, Derek. Not poison." You scoff and take a bite of your own food just to prove a point.

He glares at you for a moment, and you finally get a good look at him. Are those... eye bags? Suddenly, you feel guilty for not offering to let him sleep in your bed again. Maybe he really does need it.

Eventually, he grumbles something under his breath and grabs for his plate, beginning to nibble a piece of fruit.

Damn. He's so cold this morning. Usually you'd be sitting properly on the couch with him, his head in your lap, and your hand in his hair... not just precariously balanced on the stupid armrest.

Is he really that upset about last night? You'd tried to let him down as gently as possible. And there was no way he was serious about you, anyway. He's the kind of rich asshole who could snap a finger and have the perfect trophy wife delivered to his door in a heartbeat.

You have to be honest with yourself here, and the truth is that Derek Danforth would drop you as soon as you two got back home. Better to save yourself the heartbreak.

"If I have to watch T.V all day I think I'll die of boredom." Derek breaks your contemplative silence after a few minutes, whining and dramatically draping an arm over his eyes.

Ah, right. Gotta keep the brat entertained so he stays out of trouble.

"I'll see what I have for us to do." You respond calmly, hopping down from the armrest and heading upstairs.

Damnit. You need to diffuse the situation, fast. Everything feels so tense between the two of you, like he's pulling back into his shell. Normally you'd suggest going down to the beach again, but considering he nearly drowned yesterday? That's off the table.

After poking around in your closet for a few minutes, you return with an armload of various boxes. A few board games, a pack of cards, puzzles, books, and even some paper and colored pencils. Hey, with no internet, you'd have to make due.

"Any of this look interesting?" You huff, dumping it all on the coffee table.

Derek sits up and raises an eyebrow at the pile of less-than-adequate activities. "What is this, a summer camp? Do I look five?"

"Hey, you're the one that called me a glorified babysitter."

He just rolls his eyes in return, standing up and muttering something about a headache.

"Where are you going?" You ask, watching him trudge upstairs.

"To rest."

You're left alone on the living room floor, watching him disappear as a couple of the various precariously-stacked boxes tip off the coffee table and spill their contents across the rug.

This is not going well.

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Derek lies back on the mound of pillows piled against his headboard, a sleepy haze clouding his mind as he tries to stay awake.

He rubs his eyes, blinking at the flat screen TV mounted to the wall opposite him. The bright flashing colors are probably the only thing keeping him awake right now.

Just as he's about to drift off, a knock at the door pulls him back into reality.

"Derek? I brought you some Tylenol."

Before he can tell you to go away, you throw the door open and waltz in. Apparently, you've forgotten what happened the first time you did that.

"Here, take this. And something to wash it down with."

He sighs and accepts the medicine, swallowing the little pill and downing half the glass of water before setting it aside.

"Oh, so watching TV wasn't the issue, you just didn't want to watch it with me, huh?" You ask, taking a seat at the foot of his bed and turning your attention to the television.

He can tell you're just being playful, but the question still makes him squirm slightly. Damnit. He's torn between wanting to joke back, and wanting to chew you out for acting so normal. You made his whole world fall apart last night, and now you're going to sit on his bed and crack jokes?

"You're blocking the screen." Derek grumbles, trying to show his annoyance.

Unfortunately, you take that to mean "crawl further into my bed", and end up taking a seat next to him, with your back to the headboard.

He begrudgingly allows it, silently watching as the stupid movie he picked out plays. At least you're not touching him.

...

Fuck. Not even a minute passes before you lace your fingers into his hair, a gesture he'd usually appreciate. Now? It just serves as a reminder that you aren't his.

He finally loses it when you tug on his hair in that oh-so-familiar way that makes him whine involuntarily.

"Can you stop?"

"Stop what?" You blink down at him with a blank expression, clearly confused. God, can't you see what you're doing to him? How is he supposed to just sit back and let you touch him like this after being rejected?

"Acting like everything can just go back to normal."

"Can't it?"

"No."

You take in a sharp breath, but before you can respond Derek pushes your hand away and sits up. He isn't done with last night's conversation, and he's not letting you worm your way out of his questions this time around.

"If you don't like me, that's fine. But stop fucking pretending like you do."

That statement seems to hit you hard, because you wince at his words and harsh tone.

Derek doesn't care, continuing his rant. "Always touching me... playing with my hair, hugging me, kissing me, hell... we fucking slept together..."

"Don't say it like that, please." You visibly grimace, slinking back against the bed.

That just agitates him further.

"Yeah, well, even if we didn't fuck it was still EXTREMELY intimate."

"YOU'RE the one who begged to sleep in my bed."

"Yeah, after you KISSED me!"

"On the cheek!"

Derek is just fuming. He wants to argue back, but the truth is, he's not even sure you're wrong.

Yes, the two of you have gotten... closer, over the past week or so. But is he reading too far into things? Are you really just... this nice?

Fuck. He has no idea. Maybe he's not special. Maybe you treat everyone this way. Or everyone you're close with, at least.

He slumps down face first into his pillows, having completely lost the will to argue. Something tugs at his chest, but it's not the same pain he felt last night.

He just feels... defeated.

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You stare down at Derek, and you can't help but feel bad for the man, even if he's sort of pissing you off as well.

Yeah, you've been getting closer with him... so what? He's not some innocent bystander in all this. He literally BEGS to be touched, whether he realizes it or not.

Like right now. God, you can't just leave him like that. If he starts crying again, you'll probably cry with him.

"C'mere, love. Can I hold you?"

It's probably best to ask permission before grabbing for him, just in case he tries to use this as further evidence you're leading him on. You don't exactly give him a chance to say no, though, tugging him up towards you.

He resists slightly at first, but gives in completely when he looks up into your eyes.

You pull him tightly against your chest, his cheek pressed just above your heart. If you weren't wearing the simple cotton t-shirt, you could probably feel his stubble.

One of your hands finds its way into his hair, lacing your fingers in his soft curls. The other rubs soothing circles into his back, pulling him as close as possible.

His arms wrap around your waist in return, and he shifts to lie between your legs, melting into your embrace.

You lean back against the headboard and just hold him for a while, doing your best to comfort him. He can act angry and standoffish all he wants, but you know deep down he still craves your touch.

"This sucks."

"I'm trying my best here, Derek. I'd like to think I'm a pretty good hugger..."

"Not you. Well... not ALL you. This whole things sucks. Being stuck here, I mean."

Derek sighs and tilts his head up to look at you, his chin resting right between your breasts as he slumps lower.

"Well, you only have..." You pause briefly to do the math. "...11 days left?"

"I was only SUPPOSED to be here for two," he grumbles.

"I know... just, your mother thought-"

"My MOTHER is part of the fucking problem." His face turns sour and he squeezes you a little tighter as he rants.

"I thought- FINALLY - she was going to make time for me. Of fucking course not. She just wanted to get rid of me for three weeks."

Ah, great. So drug issues AND mommy issues. This man really has it all, huh?

"It's not exactly a good look for the president to have a druggie as a son." You say the words in a lightly teasing tone, but he seems to take them as accusing.

"I didn't ASK her to be the fucking president, okay? And regardless, she never would have made it this far in her political career if it weren't for me. Before I stepped in, she was behind in 15 of 20 counties she needed to win."

You just watch helplessly as he rants, biting your lip as to not say anything that could provoke him further.

"15 of 20!" He repeats, scoffing. "I fund her entire fucking campaign... and how does she repay me? By shipping me off to some shithole island."

It's wrong, but... you can't help but wistfully smile at his little comments.

"You know, Danforth... most people don't have the luxury of an all-expenses-paid vacation on a private island while they're getting through an addiction... they just continue working their shitty dead-end jobs."

"Spare me, please. When has the 'It could be worse' sentiment ever helped anyone, EVER?" He responds sarcastically, rolling his eyes.

Honestly? He has a point. Even if he's still relatively spoiled when compared to the general public... well, this is probably the toughest thing he's ever gone through in his sheltered life. And it IS your job to help him though it.

You tug at his hair a little more in an attempt to soothe him, which just makes him wine. He tries to cover it up by burying his face into you, but accidentally ends up with a faceful of titty.

He seems to immediately realize his mistake, because he mumbles a lame-ass apology and starts to pull away from you.

You pull him right back against you, probably a little too eagerly.

"I don't mind."

It's a struggle to get the words out without sounding giddy. You absolutely love having him there, so close to your heart.

Your chest swells with warmth as he looks up at you through his eyelashes, the lower half of his face sinking between your breasts.

“This is cruel.” He grumbles and looks down, burying his face in your chest.

“What? Letting you shove your face in my tits is cruel?”

“When I know you're just going to write it off as platonic behavior later, yes.”

Ouch. Okay, he had a point with that one, too. Damnit. Can he really blame you, though? Getting involved with Derek Danforth of all people… can’t he see just how MESSY that could be for you?

But looking down at him, it’s really hard to see him as your boss’s son, or the president's son, or a billionaire, or whatever-the-fuck else. He just looks… needy.

You continue to stroke his hair and rub his back simultaneously, and a few whimpers escape him as he nestles his face between your breasts.

It’s honestly shocking just how natural the whole thing feels. God, if only you were bare-chested…

"Okay, maybe this isn't a purely platonic relationship." You slump back against the headboard as you admit this, groaning internally.

This piques his interest, but you don't give him the chance to look up at you, shoving his face back down into your chest. Looking him in the eyes is just too much right now.

Hell, all of this is too much. Derek seems to share the sentiment, because he lets out a low groan. Or was that a moan?

"You're killing me." He whines, shifting his hips almost imperceptibly and slowly grinding them against the mattress.

"Oh? What's wrong, love?" You hum in response, tugging at his hair with one hand and tracing your nails across his back with the other. Like you even need to ask. It's obvious how he's feeling. Horny bastard.

He groans in response, tipping his head back to stare up at you. Fuck. Those eyes. He looks completely lovesick. Or lust-sick, maybe? He's still not-so-subtly grinding against the bed.

"You're so fucking pretty. It's not fair." You cup his face in your hands, lifting him from your chest slightly to better examine his face. His dark eyelashes flutter as he blinks up at you, a look of pure disbelief on his face.

Yeah. Pretty. You can't think of any other word to describe him in this moment. His cheeks, lightly dusted with freckles, turn pinker by the second as you lean in for a kiss. Then another kiss. And another.

He squirms in your grasp as you pepper soft kisses from one side of his face to the other, following the pattern of his freckles. His eyes flutter shut and he squeezes you tighter, eager to feel your touch.

You pull back to look at him again, still cradling his face in your hands. This is so wrong. You shouldn't be kissing him like this. You shouldn't be kissing him at all, actually. What happened to stomping out your feelings and hoping for the best? Protecting yourself from the man who would just inevitably break your heart?

"You're prettier." He mumbles, eyes half-lidded and hazy as he stares up at you with blissful admiration.

Those words penetrate straight to your core. Damnit... as much as you hate to admit it, this man is no heartbreaker.

"Oh, love..." You pull him back against your chest as you trail off, the words getting lost on their way from your heart to your lips.

He whines again as you absentmindedly tug at his curls, something that's become nearly as comforting for you as it is for him.

"Please... I'm... mnnghh..." He mumbles, the words coming out muffled as he nuzzles further into your chest.

You're not even completely sure what he's asking for, but damn, hearing him beg is addictive.

"What do you want, love?" You coo at him, voice soft and low as you hold him tightly against your chest.

He just pants in response, occasionally letting a whimper slip free as you continue to play with his hair. His breathing gets more and more shallow as he continues to shamelessly jut his hips into the mattress.

For the hundredth time, you remind yourself just how wrong this is. Those thoughts are immediately drowned out by his soft noises of pleasure, and you can't help but wonder just how much he can even feel through those sweatpants, anyways. Maybe if you took them off for him...?

No. Fuck. That's too far. Right now, you're not doing anything wrong. How could you be? You aren't even touching him. Well... not touching him there.

"Please." He repeats, crying the word out a little louder this time.

Guilt and lust battle in your stomach, and you can tell which has won when you clench around nothing. God, something about him begging is just so... ugh.

"What? You wanna cum?"

Derek lets out a high pitched whine, nodding into your chest.

"Can you wait for me?" You whisper the words, barely audible as one of your hands makes it's way down to the waistband of your shorts.

Another nod. More panting. The bed starts to shake slightly with the intensity of his grinding, and your brain goes fuzzy as thoughts of him overwhelm your senses.

Your had dips into your shorts, and you begin to play with yourself as Derek does the same. Well, something similar enough.

"Faster." The word comes out as a moan, and you aren't sure if you're talking to Derek or yourself.

He takes the order seriously, jutting his hips into the bed more rapidly.

Fuck. The noises he's making are almost pathetic, and somehow it's the hottest thing you've ever heard. Soon your own moans join his, creating a lustful symphony as you both lose yourselves in the other's touch.

All thoughts of this being inappropriate are long gone. All thoughts in general are long gone. You see, taste, smell, hear, feel, and breathe Derek Danforth.

He must feel the same way, because he starts to mumble your name over and over, his hips stuttering as he grips you tighter, like he's afraid you'll slip away.

"I'm here, love." You coo at him, planting a quick kiss on the top of his head.

"Cum for me. Can you do that for me, pretty boy? Hm?"

Apparently he can, because he gasps, and with a few more thrusts... he's reduced to a sweaty, writhing mess in your lap.

You aren't much better off, finishing immediately after him. Shit... are your legs trembling? Is that normal? Fucking Danforth.

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Derek finally pries himself from your chest, staring up into your eyes and breathing heavily from the exertion.

Two days in a row... that's got to be a personal record. He shudders at the uncomfortable, yet familiar, feeling of hot cum in his sweatpants.

"S-sorry... Did you...?" He stumbles over his own words, face flushing as you stare down at him. This is so fucking embarrassing. He shouldn't let himself get so damn desperate.

"Yeah... I did." You respond, blinking at him with a dazed expression.

Derek knows that feeling. He's half convinced this is all some kind of sick hallucination induced by his severe sleep depravity.

His worries are washed away as you lean down and plant another kiss on his forehead. He wants nothing more than to stay here with you, but fuck... the mess.

"I'm gonna go clean up." He mumbles, pulling away from you and discreetly covering the wet spot on his sweats... like you don't already know what happened.

"Please, just... stay." Derek looks back at you one last time before disappearing into his bathroom, and all he can do is pray you'll still be there when he returns.

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Author's note: Okay this took WAY too long and I have no excuse I'm sorry. I hope it was worth the wait! It's currently 3am, stayed up all night writing this because I'll be out of town then next few days. Hopefully I can get the next chapter out in a reasonable amount of time... but I do plan to write a one-off smut piece first, so... who knows. I'll try.

Also I REALLY want to write about Derek teaching the reader to play poker but I do not know how to play poker. Someone help. Can two people play poker together? Or does one have to be the dealer? How does that work? DM me or send an ask or a comment or something I need help!!!

LOVE Y'ALL thanks so much for being patient <3

[imagineredwood]

7. Macarons 🍪

Summary: Manny likes you, has for a while, but he's gotten mixed signals from you and isn't sure if the feeling is mutual. That's ok though. Nothing a few laced cookies can't solve.

Pairing: Manny x female reader (did he have a last name? Can’t remember)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI Sexual content, they do not have sex, just grinding and touching, Dark!Manny DRUGGING - the reader is drugged without her consent with a 'truth serum' type drug in her gifted macarons to get her to tell him how she feels. The reader does like him and does want to be with him/be sexual with him, she's just been shy and didn't dare to be upfront; the drug helps it come out. So their interactions are technically consensual, but she has been drugged against her will/knowledge and is under the influence. Just want to make that clear for everyone. If it's not your cup of tea or triggers you or anything like that, please don't read it. I would never want anyone to be upset by/hurt/triggered by my work, but at the same time, we're also responsible for the content that we choose to consume. So if it doesn't sound like something you would like or enjoy reading, please don't read it. I won't take it personally if you sit this one out. Also please let me know what other tw I should tag it as if there are any you feel it should be under

Word count: 1.6K

"Macarons??"

You beamed as you looked into the box, the selection of pastel treats looking delightful. They were expensive for their size, one of the main reasons you never really splurged on them. You'd had one or two here and there, but a box of 24? You had never spent that kind of money on a cookie. That didn't mean that you couldn't admire them though. You'd saved some aesthetic tiktoks of them, opting to one day spoil yourself with a beautiful box of them. You hadn't ever told Manny about your desire to have them, knowing that if you merely mentioned it, he would've splurged on the most beautiful and expensive ones he could find. He was just like that when it came to you. So you'd kept it to yourself, deciding that you would get yourself a small box for Valentine's Day, seeing as you didn't have a Valentine. 

But Manny had beat you to the punch. 

He grinned as he watched your eyes light up, happy that his gift had paid off. At first, a few months ago when he was trying to plan out what he would do for the special day, he wasn't sure if the treat was one you would be into. He wanted to make sure that whatever treat he got you for Valentine's Day, was one you would enjoy and preferably one you would remember.

When he saw the saved tiktoks, he was thankful that he'd had the idea to hack your phone a few weeks before. 

His intentions had been innocent enough, really. He just wanted to be able to know what you liked. He always got you gifts, eager to please. He had already decided he was going to put together a Valentine's Day basket for you, but he needed to make sure everything was perfect and to your liking. He needed you to see how much he cared about you and wanted you to be happy. Wanted you to be his. All of his previous gifts had warmed you and gotten you closer to him, but you still weren't his. His hope was that this gift would change that. 

So scrolling through your likes and saves, he'd found a handful of videos of the delicate treat and knew then that was his way into your heart. And right he had been. 

You smiled eyes raking over all of the colors, the sweet aroma wafting up to your nose in a swirl of vanilla and raspberry and cinnamon and-

"I'm glad you like it."

The Mayan looked proud as he eyed you, happy with his decision. Your mouth was practically watering at the smell and he knew you couldn't wait to try them. 

"Go 'head, mama. Let me know how they taste."

Your fingers hovered around the box, all of them looking so good you were having trouble picking which one you wanted. You settled on a baby pink one and picked it up, admiring it. 

"This one looks just like one I saw a video of." 

Manny nodded, knowing the exact tiktok you were speaking of. He didn't say that though. He knew that was the one you were going to have picked first. He knew you'd be excited and enthusiastic to dig into them.

That was why he had paid to have a little something slipped into the filling. 

He wasn't going to hurt you, of course not, he would never do that. He just wanted you soft and compliant. Honest. Needed to know if you felt the same way. Needed to know how you felt about him wanting you to be his and only his. So he'd gotten the idea from one of his brothers, 'truth serum cookies' he'd called it. The company made desserts for different purposes. Some had aphrodisiacs for couples to ramp up their sex life, others like the ones he had ordered had a drug known to make people relaxed and forthcoming, perfect for those who struggled with shyness when it came to dirty talk. 

In Manny's case, he just wanted you to be relaxed and open enough to tell the truth about if you wanted him as much as he wanted you. He needed to know if you would be his, and if you didn't want to be, then why. He'd brought it up to one of the Yuma brothers and he'd sold him on the idea. 'She won't even know. You can't taste it, no one would buy them if they tasted weird. They crush it up and mix it with some sugar, then add it to the cookie's filling. She won't have a clue. And you'll get to figure out whether she wants to have your crazy ass or not.' he had said.

He watched as you brought the macaron to your mouth and took a bite, catching a crumb in your hand as you licked the rest from your lips. Manny licked his own instinctively, eyes raking over your face as he watched you eat, almost in a trance. You smiled, covering your mouth as you chewed, not wanting to make more of a mess. 

"It's delicious." 

He smiled, then shook his head as you held it up to him for him to take a bite. 

"Not a fan of raspberry. Enjoy it." 

He lied cooly, and you bought it, taking another bite. You pushed the box towards him and motioned for him to take one as you both stood there at your kitchen counter. He obliged, not wanting you to suspect anything, and grabbed the cream-colored one with light brown filling, taking a bite. 

"Cinnamon." 

"Mmm." 

He held it out for you to take a bite of your own and you did, enjoying that one just as much as the other. You both stood there together, eating and chatting, a whole row missing before you knew it. You'd eaten most of them, and he wasn't worried about being affected. He didn't have anything to hide. You let out a yawn, and grabbed the lid, covering up the box with a laugh. 

"The crash after a sugar rush always sucks."

Manny nodded, his eyes on you as he watched your eyes grow a little heavier, your lids moving a little slower as you blinked. 

"Maybe we could go chill on the couch." 

You nodded and offered him a relaxed smile, that idea sounding wonderful. 

"Yeah, that sounds good." 

He followed you as you walked, hands itching to grab your hips as they swayed in front of him. You were a goddess in his eyes. A treasure that was meant to be his, but was always just out of his reach. But he was also a gentleman, despite his unorthodox methods of gaining the truth. So he kept his hands to himself, sitting down beside you on the couch. He angled his body towards you slightly like he always did, except this time it was because he was keeping an eye on you. 

Your eyes were soft, your face smooth and relaxed. He looked you over, not worried about you thinking he was weird or creepy for how long he stared at your face. He took in the angle of your nose, how your lashes fluttered on the tops of your cheeks. The softness of your lips. Your voice was gentle when it spoke, and his eyes were watching your lips as they parted, but it still caught him off guard. 

"Do you think I'm pretty, Manny?"

There it was. The serum already going into effect. His eyes drifted away from your lips and locked with yours.  

"I do, mama. I think you're gorgeous." 

You smiled softly. 

"I hoped you did." 

He inquired even though he knew exactly what you meant. 

"Hoped I did what?"

You shrugged, head tilted to the side as you gazed at him. 

"Hoped you found me pretty." 

He swallowed, his fingers wiggling as they screamed to touch you. 

"Well, I do. I think you're the prettiest little thing I've ever fuckin' seen." 

He watched as your throat moved, your swallow audible and pulling a smile from him. 

"What about you? You think I'm handsome?"

You didn't hesitate to nod. 

"I think you're very handsome. I think you're sexy." 

He adjusted himself in his seat, pants starting to feel a little snug. 

"That so?"

"Mhmm." 

You stared at him, fingers twiddling with the hem of your shirt. 

"I wanna sit in your lap. If that's ok." 

He melted, his nod sharp as he lifted the arm that was toward you, inviting you in. 

"C'mon then."

He felt his pulse quicken as you crawled over, a hand on his shoulder to steady yourself as you tossed your leg over his and then settled down in his lap, his eyes peering up at you. Your hands rested on his chest, fingers reaching up slightly, the tips tracing over the tattoo on his throat. 

"Wanted to sit like this for a while." 

The Mayan allowed his hands to finally drift over onto your hips, fingers digging in ever so slightly into the plush skin. 

"Wanted you to sit like this for a while too." 

Your giggle was breathless and it took everything in him not to start dragging your hips back and forth on him. 

"Anything else you been wanting?"

 You looked at him, fingers still stroking the ink. 

"Been wanting you to touch me."

Manny groaned, his hands gripping you tighter. 

"Oh yeah? Where?"

You shrugged and he shook his head, sucking his teeth. 

"Nah, none of that. Where you want my hands at, pretty girl?"

He slid his hands down further, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, gripping and pulling at your cheeks. 

"Here?"

You nodded, your hips rocking slightly. You pulled one hand away from his throat and instead gripped your own breast, your nipple hard under your palm already. 

"Maybe here too." 

He cursed quietly under his breath and pulled only one hand away to replace yours, squeezing at the soft swell of your breast, feeling like he was in heaven. 

"Yes ma'am." 

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[generalhumancloudalmond2]

Present

Platonic!Yandere!Tighnari x Child!Fem!Reader

For the first time in a long time, Tighnari felt so bad, he was literally in despair, which could not be said about you. After all, you finally got some control over the situation and your position. Yes, what you did was painful and unpleasant, but the goal itself was achieved. For this reason, you quite enjoyed watching Tignari restlessly running around the house.

"Why did you do it at all?! Do you even realize how unsafe this is! How... How can you even be so calm! You should be rolling on the floor in agony right now!"

The Forest Watcher once again gave you a fleeting worried look, but he again met your uninterested expression. Despite the riskiness of the situation, you seemed to be even calmer than usual. It wasn't normal. Especially when you consider that you used a strong warming agent on yourself and now the back of your neck was burned at best. Tighnari couldn't say for sure for the reason that you also put a patch on yourself. At first, he didn't attach any importance to this, because he knew that you are always trying in every possible way to protect yourself from being taken by the scruff. It was exactly until he touched that patch and realized that it was very hot. Of course, Tighnari immediately tried to take it off, but then a clear liquid of lymph and blood poured out of it, he stopped.

"Just tell me what you put under the patch so I can take it off less painfully and help you."

Yes, the Forest Watcher regained his composure, now he himself began to think about it. You couldn't take something not from his house, the drug itself had a warming property and was taken externally. Only two things fit this description.

"Was it a black powder or a clear sticky ointment?"

He saw how your ears twitched a little at the mention of these medicines, and you habitually covered part of your face with your tail.

"Don't tell me you've connected two these medicines at once...Of course, the more, the better..."

He sighs heavily and stealthily glances in your direction. Why were you so calm? If you really combined two these preparations and spent almost the whole day with them, then... Could your nerve endings have been affected? Tighnari was afraid even to think about it.

Having taken out all the items that might be useful to him, he wanted to approach you, but in time he heard that you were eating something. Turning his head in your direction, he saw you quietly eating herbs that he sometimes gave you to make you more calm, they dulled physical pain and emotions. Tignari felt ashamed, did you know about them all this time? No, he's doing it for your own safety and there's nothing wrong with that. In addition, more importantly, now you are under a very strong painkiller and the most painful moments should pass normally, he doesn't even have to wait for these very herbs to take effect. However, just in case, he prepared several other stronger painkillers, and also lit a couple of incense burners just to put you to sleep a little.

Tighnari approached you as carefully as possible when he saw how your ears were almost lowered. He gently lifted you up, trying not to touch your neck and the patch.

You barely remember the rest. You didn't even remember how unconsciously you spoke under the influence of all the herbs and smokers, but you clearly remember how Tighnari stroked your head, calming you. In the end, you fell asleep anyway.

"So you're saying that she used two warming agents in large doses and got a 3rd degree burn, just because she didn't like how you took her by the scruff of the neck, and thereby she also wanted to piss you off?"

"That's right, Cyno, to be honest, I don't think that this very burn was part of her plan, but even so, what upsets me the most is something completely different..."

The Forest Waycher sighs heavily as he watches Collei hug your unconscious figure. You were both asleep and, because of this, you looked so calm and peaceful, although, in fact, everything was far from that.

"She also mentioned that everything will work out anyway, since this is one of the rules of birthdays, that everything planned must come true or something like that..."

"Don't worry about it so much, we can still spend her birthday. Besides, I already know what gift to give her if she wants to annoy you next time."

"What is it?"

"A self-written collection of jokes."

"Oh, God... Fine, but only if it help her to get better. Anyway, Cyno, could you keep an eye on them until I finish work? Collei's Eleazar has deteriorated and Y/n..."

"Sure. Don't worry."

Tighnari nods and, taking everything he needs, quickly left the house, after taking another look around the room. Cyno also stood in the middle of the room for some time, after which, leisurely approaching you and Collei, he straightened your blanket and sat down on a chair next to the bed.

[antebunny]

So there's a subgenre of fics in the Harry Potter fandom wherein a person conceived while one of their parents is under the influence of a love potion will become aroace at birth. The origin, afaik, are two insidiously awful decisions of JKR combining: 1) she reinvented date rape drugs/roofies aka love potions, without realizing it I guess, and 2) she said that Voldemort was asexual, because she's never seen a marginalized identity she didn't spit on.

Since Merope Gaunt (Voldemort's mother) used a love potion on Tom Riddle Sr. (Voldemort's dad) I guess people got the idea that what if love potions caused asexuality? And asexuality + aromanticism, of course, meant evil. Here's an excerpt from one of those fics in which Bill Weasley explains being aro/ace to Hermione:

[Image ID]

"No. I just dated because that was what you did. I never really felt anything for them. A few kisses, plenty of hand-holding. I made out in a few broom closets, and had one very uncomfortable make-out session up the top of the Astronomy Tower that I eventually ended by pretending I heard Filch coming past on a patrol. I even tried making out with a guy once in case that was it–nothing. I never told mum about that, of course. Good wizards don't shame their families like that."

"There's nothing wrong with being gay, you know."

He shrugged. "It doesn't apply to me anyway. I'm not gay. I wasn't anything, and I was trying to accept that and be content with it. It was good enough. Until I met Fleur." His eyes lit up with joy as he spoke about her.

[Second Image ID]

"Look, the point is with her allure from being part-Veela, I love her. Like I can never love anyone else. I don't want to lose that. You don't understand what it's like to go through life feeling nothing for anyone else. I've dated people I said I cared for, but I wouldn't have died for them. Well, out of logical choice I might risk my life, but not from love. But I would die for Fleur. Do you understand? She makes me a better person. I would do anything to make her happy. I'm not alone in the world anymore."

She nodded slowly. "I see." It wasn't so much him manipulating Fleur, as him permitting her to manipulate him. Into feeling. "I didn't realise it could be that bad." She still thought he should confess, but it didn't sound like he was hurting Fleur–he really did love her.

[End Image ID]

I read this fic years ago, and at the time I genuinely had not thought about my sexuality at all. I would've never called myself aro or ace. Still, reading this felt like being repeatedly punched in the face. I kept on waiting for Hermione to say something similar to what she said after Bill made a homophobic comment. After all, she went out of her way the first time, didn't she. Instead, what I got was essentially:

Bill: I don't usually feel romantic or sexual attraction. So there's something wrong with me.

Hermione: Yeah lmao. But there's nothing wrong with being gay!

I've been (reading) on Ao3 since 2016, and in all that time I've seen plenty of subtle racism, sexism, etc. But I've never seen anything as plainly stated as this. To this day I have yet to hear any aro/ace people describe the experience of being aro/ace in any of the following ways: "How could I forgive myself if we brought a child into the world to suffer the emptiness I lived with my whole existence[?]" /"You should be unable to love." / "You don't understand what it's like to go through life feeling nothing for anyone else."

I could not understand why Bill described it as "emptiness" or "feeling nothing." I still cannot find a single aro/ace person who would describe themselves as empty. The most I have ever heard is: "I wish I was normal" (meaning I wish I fit in, I wish to be accepted by other people). Historically, many aro/ace people married and had kids, conforming to societal norms, and I am sure many believed there was something wrong with them or hoped to grow out of it. I was one of them. On a very personal note, I suspect that my father is too. I am certain that he's never heard the terms asexual or aromantic in his life. But if you think I'll ever discuss his sexuality with him, you're out of your damn mind.

Now, I know it's really easy to find this fic from these quotes. I chose to include them anyways because I think it's important to show how blatant it was. My Tumblr blog isn't exactly a platform, but for the five people reading this: please, please do not go after the author. I truly believe that they had no ill-intent. In the comments of this fic, a few people bring up variations of "it sounds like Bill is just aro/ace" and the author is consistently understanding. Here are some of the author's comment on that fic:

[Image ID]

I very much understand what you're saying. It's a tricky thing for me to address, however. For the core idea I'm playing with is basically the evilness of "love potions". And part of that is exploring JKR's idea that Voldemort, being unable to love due to his mother using a love potion on his father, was a *monster* because of that. Perhaps that doesn't come across very clearly (there's a little bit more of it in the prequel), that it's one of the assumptions I'm trying to undermine. ("Love potions are funny/romantic", "Voldemort is a monster because he could not love", "Harry's power was that he could love - he's not a monster like Voldemort", "There's nothing wrong with selling love potions to teens/adults because it's not 'real' love".)

I feel like I'm already poking at the inherent problem of framing "people who cannot love" as "monsters/psychopaths" by showing Bill and Harry's struggles with self acceptance, and Bill finding a way to love (though do note he'd been making peace with the idea he wasn't attracted to anyone, prior to meeting Fleur). I really don't like the canonical take on love-redeems/love-is-the-best-power/the-loveless-are-monsters, so I'm messing with it a bit. Exploring other people than Voldemort, ones we admire, who are also dealing with being unable to love. Does that make sense? Now, that doesn't mean I'm doing a perfect job at it, but I'm trying my best to explore that theme around the edges of my Dramione story.

[End Image ID]

The author's intention was to show how other characters, made aro/ace via love potion like Voldemort, were not evil or sociopaths. I don't know why all the characters were so aro/acephobic, but sometimes fics get away from you and you don't address everything you wanted to. I don't know why the aro/ace characters had so much internalized shame and hatred when the term bachelor has been in use for centuries, but we fanfic authors love writing self-esteem issues and I would be a hypocrite to say otherwise. I don't know why the author never tagged acephobia or internalized acephobia, but no one HAS to tag anything.

I don't know if the author ended up writing that fic where Harry comes to accept his aro/asexuality. It's totally understable if they didn't; I have failed to write many fics that I really did want to write. Sometimes it's just like that. I really, truly believe that the author had the best of intentions and is not aro/acephobic, just severely misled on what that experience is like.

My beef is not with this author. I used their words to highlight a reoccurring and popular sentiment that I hate. My real beef is that this fic is popular. This is an entire subgenre of Harry Potter fics. I actually decided to write this post because some random person on the internet said, a few days ago, something along the lines of: "Remember when JKR invented a date rape drug that turned people into sociopaths? Yeah…" (And also because I was up until 3 am last night writing a dumb trash angst one-shot about it).

I'd wager that the vast, vast majority of people who write or read those fics don't feel the same way. But the condescension is baked into the very premise of that trope. "Oh poor you, it must be so hard, so lonely going through life without ever loving another person. You must feel so empty inside."

It's actually people who say similar things that make me feel isolated. Most of the time I feel free, like I've cracked this secret code, like I'm able to see things clearly that people so hung up over sex and romance can't. Other times I feel so left out I wish I was "normal." Mostly, being aro/ace is lonely, annoying, exhausting, and liberating.

It wasn't until last year that a friend told me that some people actually do have trouble speaking to someone they've never met before, just because they find that someone attractive. I thought that only happened in stories. But I don't want to get nervous meeting new people based on their looks, I don't want to treat people differently based on how much I want to have sex with them. I wish my friends in high school had never pressured me to come out as bisexual. I wish all the other similarly liberal, queer communities I've found since didn't insist on associating sex and dating with emotional comfort. I wish I could magically stop my parents from expecting me to ever get married and have kids.

But I can't.

Anyways, that's it for today. I'm not sure what the point of writing this was. I really don't want anyone to get hurt or attacked because of it. This is not a callout, or a hate brigade, or any sort of call-to-action. I don't want people to get up-in-arms about this. I'm just tired. I suppose I just wanted to put my feelings out there, and well, this is my Tumblr.

[hanasnx]

(if this makes u uncomfy in any way plz ignore)

idk if mj exists in SW ‘verse, but like—sex with ani while ur both high as kite?? BIG YES (from me at least).

esp cause!! it would probably heighten ani’s force sensitivity?? like he’s feeling high and tingling and extra touch sensitive and all of a sudden you’re touching him and he’s getting a rush of emotions, floating, hungry, hot, i love you i want you.

and you. you look like heaven, like every sin he’s ever indulged in, all flushed and glowy and smiley, touching him with a fluttery touch.

ani needs you when he’s high cause there’s something almost spiritual, almost heaven scent and hell touched, about the rush of you he gets in every way.

as a former pothead i think i've gotta set some records straight. long post about marijuana + fucking + anakin under the cut <3

warnings: marijuana, negative + positive for anakin experience with marjuana

when i was smoking enough for a circle and then playing whatever videogame was in my ps for 20 hours a day, i can say that it did nothing but make me hungry, my attention span elongated, and my anxiety non-existent. i wasn't interested in fucking, i was mostly into wasting away while naked. it didn't do much (that i can remember) for my sense of touch.

i do know that when i did fuck while high, it wasn't a remarkable experience because i don't remember any of it. nor did it make me horny or add to the sensation. those kinds of effects were from an entirely different drug that i did that i dont feel like putting the trigger warnings for so i wont talk about it

pot is definitely good for mellowing out, chilling, and fucking really casual. and i mean really casual. that's my experience with it anyway i have no idea if its diff for other ppl, im sure ppl who arent demisexual and have higher sex drives than me can say different who knows.

for anakin, i can see him smoking and fucking. definitely. in very specific circumstances. let me lay those out for you:

he smokes very occasionally for spirituality reasons. he does it respectfully, with great care. a big stickler about it. he wants to emphasize to himself it's not for recreational or social reasons. the jedi discourage drugs that cloud your judgment. marijuana is frowned upon to rely on for things like calming yourself or meditating because you should be able to do that alone. however, it's not frowned upon to partake in it every once in a while. it's all about new experiences and as long as you treat it with respect, it's alright. anakin treats it with the utmost respect.

he does not care to be under the influence of something. being high or drunk is a very rare form for him indeed. he gets very uncomfortable when on something, and especially uncomfortable being reliant on something, so when he is smoking he does it alone most of the time. he does not like being disillusioned, and he certainly does not like the idea of someone's no-nonsense idea of him being shattered.

he's led a ceremony with younger people of the order. taught them how to partake, how to roll, how to use it mindfully. and if someone is having a negative first experience, they had too much or it does not agree with them and it gets into their heads, he knows how to calm them.

when he smokes with you, it might be a rare moment of rebellion. a "i'm an adult, i can smoke a little weed." moment. and even with that notion, his darkness may catch up to him. the guilt of using it under different circumstances than usual may put him in a bad place, memories he pushes back into the reaches of his mind creep up. his past with tatooine, the tusken massacre, etc. he gets paranoid, those doubts you couldn't love a monster like him get the better of him. it gets in his way. and you're there to lead him back to the present. like op said, "you look like heaven" he'd hone in on you. tunnel vision.

anakin's way of calming himself is often self pleasure. and so since youre here, and willing and able, he might use you to guide him back to the present in a more physical way. he can't think if he's inside you, all he can do is chase his orgasm. he's tingly, he's got those nerves in the pit of his stomach, he's trying to ground himself using you and at the same time fuck you out of this world. however, with marijuana you're both slowed, and clumsy. the love-making wouldn't be coherent, or poised, but it'd be enjoyable. less concerned about what you must look like, and more cuddly. more shallow thrusts, and humping ruts, and sloppy kisses and no dialogue.

[maxislvt]

So Persuasive

Summary: You and Wanda had very different work ethics. You worked hard and took your time with every assignment and made sure it was perfect. Though Wanda rarely found herself matching your intellectual passion, it was something she adored about you. Sometimes your passion for knowledge would get in the way of your passion for her, and she couldn't let that slide for too long.

Warnings: 18+, Smoking, hot boxing, corruption kink, car sex, semi-public sex, strap on usage, stoner Wanda, and sex while under the influence

A/N: I just got back from vacation like two days ago and I didn't have enough brain juice to write chapter four Her Body Is My Coffin just yet so I finished this old draft instead. (plus I think I'm sh*dowb*nned and I don't want it to flop more than it did the last two chapters so if you see this and enjoy it please reblog it)

There were many things that Wanda loved about you. Some big, others small and personal. Your bed was always made with three stuffed animals snuggled in underneath the covers. The doc martens she had bought you had laces that were a little too long — Wanda's docs conveniently had laces that were a little too short. Your favorite pair of boxers were a size too small, but you had refused to toss them out unless you found the exact pair in an appropriate size. Your innocence was easily her favorite thing about you. Wanda had been your first, well, everything. Your first girlfriend, your first kiss, and your first time. There was a special kind of trust between you two. Though Wanda would never hurt you, she couldn't help but take advantage of it at times. It was so much fun to fill your sweet head with dirty thoughts and watch you crumble under the weight of your own lust.

She was careful to never cross any boundaries. All she did was convince you to expand them just a tiny bit. Just a little of "practice" here and there until you were too excited to deny her. That's how she took your virginity. Make-out sessions got heavier. Then she'd grope you from time to time. Soon, she was grinding against you with no restraint and, not long after that, you were begging for her to go all the way. It wasn't half as torturous as the six months prior to that, but she still found time to tease you. The sight of you so needy and vulnerable was addictive. Wanda found herself poking at your limits very often after that. There was one in particular that she just couldn’t get you to budge on.

Smoking weed was a bit of a tense subject for the two of you. You never stopped Wanda from smoking, but you refused to do it yourself. You were so adamant about it, Wanda almost crossed it off her list. However, once you two talked it out, it was back on the table. Not because you had loosened up and didn’t care. Simply because your reasoning for not smoking was rather childish. It wasn’t because you didn’t want to risk failing any important drug tests or worried about developing a dependency, but rather that you didn’t want your parents to find out. It was adorable, truly. You were twenty years old and more than eight hundred miles away from your home, but still worried about what your parents would think if they caught you smoking weed. If that was all you carried about, how could she not play temptress and drag you down that path?

Besides, you needed a little break. You had thrown yourself into planning some fundraiser for the track team. She cursed herself for letting Pietro rope you into his misadventures, but this would be her redemption.

You were artistically spread out on the couch with your face mere inches away from your laptop screen despite the glasses perched on your nose. If it weren’t something she had bared witness to several times before, she would’ve found it cute. Now, she just worried if your back was okay bending like that for so long. The number of stained glasses littered on the coffee table alongside two, now empty, boxes of graham crackers was a common sight that Wanda was starting to hate. Though she found your obsession with the crackers adorable, they were by no means a sustainable meal and you’d been living off of them.

“Hey, sweet bear,” Wanda whispered sweetly as she slipped into the empty space on the couch. She pulled your legs into her lap, forcing you to sit up right. Her fingers were quick to rub circles on the exposed skin of your calf. “I think it’s time for a break, yeah? You’ve been working so hard lately, I don’t want you to burn out.” A gentle smile spread across her face as you stopped typing for a brief moment. Normally, you’d shoot her down and insist you needed to get whatever project you’d been focused on done. It was a small step in the right direction that you were at least considering taking a break.

You smiled back at Wanda. “I’m almost done, I got one more page on this proposal and I promise I won’t do anymore work for the rest of the break.” Your smile faded in sync with Wanda’s as she sighed. “Come on, you know how much this means to your brother, I can’t let him down.” You changed positions so you were sitting shoulder to shoulder with Wanda. “I know I’ve kinda ditched you to write this and I’m sorry, but it’s all I have to do this summer. I promise you'll have me the rest of the break after this!" You gently squeezed your girlfriend's hand.

Wanda huffed out and pulled you impossibly closer to her. Giving you room to work wasn't unreasonable, but Her fingernails softly dragged themselves over the skin of your exposed thigh. "I promise I won't have you out all day, we can just take a ride out and have a picnic. You'll be back before dark." Her hand inched up your thigh and gave it a firm squeeze, then she gave you the cutest pout she could. Despite her dominant role in the relationship, she found herself waiting for your commands quite often. "We can even go to Dairy Queen if you want, but you have got to get out of the house."

You looked down at your laptop, briefly glancing over the document. It wasn’t your best work, but Pietro wasn’t paying you and Wanda was certainly more important. “Fine, but you’re paying for everything and you have to let me shower first.” You smiled and pressed a firm kiss against Wanda’s cheek. Before you could run off towards the bathroom, you were forced back down on the couch and pulled into a proper kiss. You would’ve teased your girlfriend for being so greedy, but it was a much needed kiss. So needed in fact, you found yourself peppering her face in a few more. “I really needed this,” You said between kisses. Eventually, you freed Wanda from your affection and ran off to shower.

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

After a proper shower and trashing all the snack wrappers you had stacked up, you and Wanda were off on a much needed free roam. Your favorite music filled the air as the two of you talked about anything and everything. Just sitting in the passenger seat with Wanda’s hand placed confidently on your was enough to make everything right again. The worries of budgets and posters disappeared when you were in the car with Wanda.

Though you enjoyed watching the cars fly by and the neighborhoods merge into one another, you were most excited to be in your favorite spot. It was undeniably suspicious and you were beyond skeptical when Wanda first took you. Before you two came along, it was nothing. A questionably open space in the middle of the woods with next to no foot traffic. Now, there was an old picnic table you used for a little more than just eating, a small tree Wanda had crudely carved your initials into, and an elephant path from how many times Wanda tires constantly rolling through. Had you not tried — and failed — at camping there already, it would've been a third home.

"I take it we're not getting home before dark," You asked jokingly. You were curled up in the passenger seat with a milkshake in hand and a thick blanket wrapped around you. These moments were not rare by any standard, but they were invaluable. The peacefulness of untamed nature was something you loved even as a child, but Wanda was your favorite part of it all. The warmth that radiated from her body pair was forever comforting and you could never get enough of the way she would praise you. You were Wanda's little bear cub and she made it known.

"Nope," Wanda said before blowing a puff of smoke out her mouth. It never made sense to her how you refused to smoke but were happy to hotbox with her. She originally thought you just had a high tolerance or didn't notice you had gotten high in the first place. However, when she turned to face you again, it all made sense. "You're staring," She said. Wanda rolled up the window as she took another hit. She leaned over to kiss you with tight lips. Then she pulled back just to blow the smoke in your face.

You were whipped. Pupils blown out, mouth agape, and mouth dry. For a moment, you thought your heart was going to explode out of your chest or maybe you'd melt first. Your hands nervously fiddled with the blanket wrapped around your body. Watching Wanda smoke always had some hellish effect on you. Whether it was in the car, in her bedroom, or out at a park — it never failed to turn you on. "Okay, well, now you're staring too! So now we're both weirdos," You quipped.

"I see how it is, sweet bear," She said as she took another hit from her blunt. "You want me to do all the hard work while you get to sit there all wet and adorable." Wanda reclined her seat as far back as she could and patted her lap. She watched as you carefully climbed over the stick shift and sat down in her lap. "Awe, you're my perfect bear," She whispered softly. Her hands snaked around your waist and pulled you closer. Wanda's hips rolled forward, making sure you felt the little secret she kept packed in her sweatpants. "It's not fair if only one of us is having fun. Can my good bear make it fun for me too? I promise I'll make it extra fun for you."

You lifted your hips as a burning embarrassment spread across your face. "Wanda, we're in public…" Despite your complaints, you don't stop Wanda's hands from removing your shorts and boxers. The smoke was making your head fuzzy. All you could think about was the toy buried underneath Wanda's underwear. Reason was quickly becoming nothing more than a tiny voice in the back of your head and nothing more. "What if we get caught?"

Wanda guided your hands to pull her pants til her boxers were exposed. It was entirely your own doing that her boxers followed suit. "There's no one else here but us, cub. Just relax for me, please?" Her hand tugged at your shirt so you were just mere inches away from her face. "I won't let anyone see, I promise." She pulled you the rest of the way forward so that your lips crashed together. The hand gripping your shirt moved upwards to the back of your neck. A muffled grunt escaped her lips as she began grinding against you.

You whimpered into the kiss. The untouched wetness in between your legs quickly became unbearable in the heat of the car. "Wanda, please," You begged as you gripped her shoulders. One of your hands aimlessly reached down in space between you and your lover. Your hand wrapped around the thick toy only for Wanda to push your hand away. "No," You whined out, "I need it…please don't be mean." Your heart dropped to your stomach as Wanda gave you a smirk.

Wanda's fingers ran up and down your folds with ease. "Awe, my little bear is so needy," She said, her voice becoming raspy from the smoke. "I'll give you whatever you want, but I want to make sure it doesn't hurt." Her fingers slid into your pussy with ease. You had been stretched out more than enough, but Wanda couldn't resist the urge to be inside you. There was no greater pleasure than watching your slick drip down her hand all the way to her elbow. You got her higher than any drugs ever could. "You're so wet for me. I love that and I love you. I love you so much."

You could only nod and whimper in response. The smoke had gone to your head and the only thing on your mind was Wanda. You moaned, feeling the tip of Wanda's strap parted your lips and rubbed against your clit. "Wanda, please, I'll be so good." Your pleas were finally answered as the thick toy slid down and began stretching your velvet walls. "Fuck, that feels so good," You said breathlessly. Being filled up was something you craved desperately. Wanda eased you down the toy with her hand pressed firmly on your lower abdomen.

Wanda chuckled at your use of profanity. "You're such a messy thing when it comes to this dick," She whispered directly. Her hands slid back down to your hips and began thrusting into you. Her thrusts were slow and drawn out. "You hear that, sweet bear? All those dirty noises are coming from your pussy and I've barely even touched you." She reveled in your moans and the squelching of your hole. "I'm gonna have to walk around with my sweet bear's cum all over my pants. Then everyone will know how needy you are for me." Wanda would never embarrass you in such a way, but there was no harm in teasing you.

Even with your face buried in Wanda's neck, you could see the smirk on her face. Maybe it was the weed, but you could only moan at the thought. Wanda agreed to be private about your sex life for the sake of your pride, but suddenly the thought of everyone knowing was euphoric. "Mhm, your needy teddy," You groaned out in a dazed state. Your hips began moving on their own, stuttering and struggling to keep up with the tortuously slow pace Wanda had set for you. "No one else can touch me, just you."

Shock didn't even begin to explain the way Wanda felt. It was rare for you to respond to her dirty talk. Needy whimpers and soft groans, maybe a soft whine whenever she accused you of being a pervert, but never did you say anything back. "Oh, little cub, you don't even know what you do to me," She groaned. Her thrusting became more erratic, desperate to see you fall apart. "Come on, sweet bear, let mommy see you cum."

You grumbled something under your breath before leaning back to look Wanda in her eyes. The secondhand smoke had given you a new burst of confidence. "Please don't stop, I'm so close and it feels so good!" Your words slurred together and it only got worse once your orgasm rolled over your body. The strength in your arms had all but evaporated and you ended up falling smack against Wanda's shoulders. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as Wanda continued to pound into you. "It feels so good," You whimpered with a hoarse voice.

"It sure looked like it did," Wanda teased as she pulled out of you. The sight of your cum stringing out and dripping down her strap was something that would never get old. She let your cum drip down onto her lap. "You look so good when you're all messy." Her hand blindy reached into the drawer attached to her center console to pull out a towel. It wasn't the best aftercare, but she just needed you to stay together until she got home. She was careful not to touch you too much. You were high out of your mind and she wasn't sure you could handle any more stimulation. "You're my perfect little bear cub." Wanda begrudgingly guided you back to the passenger seat and leaned over to buckle you in.

You nodded contently as you rested your head against the back seat. Your mouth was painfully dry and your head was starting to hurt as the afterglow of your orgasm wore off. "I want another milkshake…and a chocolate croissant…and chicken nuggets, I'm really hungry and my head hurts. Am I pregnant?"

Wanda chuckled at your highness. "No baby, you're just a little high that's all. Just relax okay?" Her hand carefully massaged your thigh as she began to pull off. "I'll get you all the food and Tylenol you want once we get home."

[the-lark-ascending69]

How would Robin's coming out to Dustin would be like?

Omg my first anon ajsnsndjs hii

That's a very interesting question. I imagine he'd be the party member that's closest to Robin given everything that happened in S3, so he'd be the one she trusts most and the first one to know. Even if she knew Will was gay, I think she'd still want to tell Dustin first.

Though "want to tell" may not be the correct phrase. I don't think Robin wants to tell anyone, period. She only told Steve that quickly because she was under the influence of drugs, and I'm sure his positive reaction made her feel a lot safer, like she could actually pursue a girl and tell people about it. But even then, I think she can't help but assume everyone could be an enemy until proven wrong. That'a just how things were. Steve was the exception, not the rule, and she doesn't expect anyone in her social circle to accept her. Before telling Steve, she said it herself - if he knew her he wouldn't want to be her friend.

So I think she wouldn't come out to Dustin unless she really had to. Maybe he thinks she's trying to solve something on her own when she shouldn't because she keeps disappearing to be with an unidentified individual. Maybe Steve got a girlfriend and Dustin thinks he's cheating on her with Robin. Maybe she's being taunted by Vecna about her homosexuality and Dustin insists it's crucial that look out for each other and stop hiding. It's not empowering or glamorous or dignified and it doesn't reafirm her agency in any way. Robin coming out to anyone at this point isn't going to be pretty. But Dustin is rambling and coming up with all of these hypotheses on what could be wrong with Robin, to the point Robin realizes it's gonna be better to just tell the truth. She grabs him by the shoulders and stops him and and tells him look, whatever you're thinking about, it's not that, and it just seems so ridiculously stupid compared to everything that's going on. I mean, just look at Max. She's the one you should worry about, not my stupid, useless feelings. She tries to convince him that it's something personal and that he shouldn't worry about it, but Dustin insists that Max's mourning was also personal, until it became a gate for an evil wizard who wants to destroy thr world. Then Robin tells him she doesn't want to talk about it. Dustin tells her that's what started everything with Max. Robin tells him she's not Max, and that Steve knows anyway, so she's not alone. She can handle it. Then Dustin just feels offended that hairspray head Steve knows something he doesn't when he is the brains of the operation. You are the brains of the operation? Robin asks, trying to change the subject, but Dustin insists that she's not alone, and that whatever it is, this is what friends are for. He honor promises on Suzie that he won't tell anyone. He wouldn't insist so much if he didn't knew doing this almost killed Max last year. He's a traumatized 15yo looking out for his friends and Robin knows that. Between you and me, Dustin is her favorite. He's the only boy in the party with half a brain, at least. And she thinks it's funny when he bullies Steve. He's a toddler in her eyes but he's her friend, and she never had many friends growing up. Now se has like, three and a half.

If I tell you, you won't want to see me anymore, she tells him.

What are you talking about? I put up with Steve every day. It can't be worse than that, he says.

Believe me, it's worse, she says.

Whatever it is, you're part of our party now. No soldier is left behind.

So... she tells him. About Tammy Thompson and Vickie and maybe even about Nancy, and how she told Steve and how scared she was all her life. How she knows it doesn't seem normal to most people. Maybe she let herself be convinced that it actually is. She feels like a freak sometimes. And that's it. That's the reason she was acting weird. She wasn't kidnapped and replaced by interdimensional aliens. She's just in love with a woman.

Dustin is, admitely, a little shocked. It never crossed his mind that that might be the reason. He just wasn't expecting it, and he stays silent for a minute. Probably the longest minute in Robin's life.

And then he tells her that's okay. Yeah, yeah, it's not that weird. He plays DnD and he doesn't have collarbones, so he's not going to be judging anyone anytime soon. Plus, he likes girls too, so he can at least relate to that. He knows Mike thinks Will doesn't like girls, and Will is always going to be his friend no matter what, so there's no reason it'd be different with Robin. He hugs her real tight actually, and tells her the party is there for her. No one has to be alone.

Robin actually tears up a little when Dustin isn't looking. She feels incredibly lucky, and she can tell papa Harrington raised his kids right. Maybe things aren't as grim as they looked. Maybe Dustin is right, and she doesn't need to be alone. Maybe she finally found her people.

[starry-blue-echoes]

okay so I went on a walk and my brain started rotating the Merstars AU SO hard so I'm just going to yeet a bunch of random bullet point thoughts that I came up with and see what comes out of it-

the "world" the AU takes place isn't really like "real" life and is instead a super huge archipelago with hundreds of thousands of islands of varying sizes and kinds

Mers and other various Sea Magics are pretty well known as A Thing That Exists. Is it accepted? Depends on the location and the people, and Mer Hunters are unfortunately a pretty common thing, but it's slowly started dying out. This is actually thanks to Speedwagon since after Jonathan's death he started trying to use his influence as a Very Important Wealthy Merchant to change public opinion, and it's actually been working

Jonathan was a pretty well loved and very social member of the mers. He wasn't their leader by any means, but almost every mer in the archipelago knew about him, and his murder pissed a LOT of people off. Luckily thanks to Speedwagon, since then relations have gone from "it's on fucking sight" to "don't approach me and I won't approach you"

Morioh is one of the more isolated islands and a bit of an exception to the above thing, being the most accepting island in the whole archipelago. Honestly, at this point like half the town has at least a little mer blood in them, but they are primarily human passing. There are a couple of full blooded or half blooded mers that hang around, but Josuke was one of the first ones born in the town in a long while

currently debating how exactly the Morioh Trio are gonna be, since I want them to be a "full blood, half blood, human" trio for the funnsies, but other than Josuke I don't know which should be which. My current thought process is 1) Okuyasu is the full blooded and when he was younger he had a run in with Hunters which is where his scars came from since his dad more or less just fucked off and left him at their mercy at which Keicho had to save him which led to the two of the moving to Morioh, Koichi is the human and is Their Little Guy, is super familiar with how to work around mers and climbs them like a god damn jungle gyms, or 2) Koichi is the full blood and a really small mer but still Big for humans, he's a cuttlefish, got separated from his family when he was little which led to him being adopted by the Human Hiroses and Okuyasu is human and the resident Normie Guy, he's recently moved to Morioh and is getting used to how Positive human mer relations are here

still trying to figure out how the Stand Arrows work, since Stands..... aren't really a thing now. Probably some kind of super powerful Sea Magic thing going on, maybe turn partial mers/humans into full blooded ones?

the "Italy" of this world is a collection of islands that are under Passione's control, aka a group of pirates that have a literal fleet. Diavolo and Doppio are brothers, with Diavolo being a half-mer (maybe lion fish? I'm still deciding tho) and Doppio being a full human. Doppio is the face of the operation, but his brother is always lurking in the depths below the ship and even makes a couple appearances as the True Boss in human form. Trish is by extension 1/4 mer and they want to kill her so the truth about Diavolo won't get out

Passione, despite all the shitty stuff they do, is actually a surprising area of Human Mer teamwork. There are a lot of hybrids and even full blooded mers to the point they're almost the majority. For the most part people don't care what you are as long as you get your job done, and honestly if what they did wasn't drug trade and trafficking, they'd be pretty cool

the Bucci Gang don't have a whole lot of mer blood, and any they do have is pretty distant to the point they're almost human save for a couple little features (they also don't get full transformations), with the exceptions being Trish and Giorno. Trish I've explained, but Giorno is...... Really Really Weird with what he is. His birth mom was a mer, but Dio had mostly been using her to try and lure other mers so by the time Giorno was actually born she was killed. Giorno was then taken in by the Shiobana's, which obviously sucked ass, but he was able to pass as a human for a shocking amount of time because Sea Vampire Genes fucked with his aging, so he also looks a lot smaller than he should be. He's also been forced to stay in his "human" form for much longer than is strictly healthy which ALSO fucked with his size and health

Giorno is gonna be a giant sea snake, because I think it'll be funny because That's The Traditional Sea MonsterTM. Maybe during the final fight with Diavolo he gets shot with the arrow and falls off the ship all dramatic and everyone thinks he died but SIKE he suddenly grows to full Absolutely Fucking ENORMOUS Size And Kicks Ass

Jolyne is a siphonophore, I don't make the rules, she's Really Fucking Long

[theflyindutchwoman]

Hi. I'm back for your integration). This time to an episode from the first season when Tim visits Isabel on Valentine's Day.

Why do you think Tim was the first to talk about divorce?

I remember when I first viewed it, it surprised me. He waited for her, fought for her, endured this nightmare and it seems he still loved her. Isabelle apologized, talked about the past. She tried to understand herself and explain to him why it happened. I don't think she's thought about the future yet. And then he offers to divorce. Does he no longer see a future together?

I can only explain this by the fact that Tim, having heard how Isabel felt his pressure on her, that she did not meet his expectations, decides to rid her of herself. (I wonder, by the way, if this is objective or just her feelings, interpretation or just excuses)

Sorry for the mistakes and hopefully not too confusing, English is not my native language.

This is a delicate (and complicated) subject so I hope I'm not saying anything wrong or offensive here. And as always, this is only my interpretation.

The way I see it, when Tim went to the rehab facility to see Isabel, he didn't know what to expect, what her state of mind would be. Hence why he admitted almost turning away twice. What he did know was that he wanted his wife back, that he loved her… But as he had learned the hard way, that might not be sufficient. Still, I don't think he was envisaging divorcing her. It's only once she opened up about the pressure she felt when they were married that he considered it.

At first, Isabel was simply trying to make amends, apologise for all the things she did. It's actually part of the 12-steps program, which supports recovery from substance disorders. Step 09 is about making direct amends to the people you've harmed. Now, I don't know if she was at that stage already but her wording was very similar. Here's what she says : "I don't want to talk about it, either, but it's part of my recovery. […] The whole point is to make amends with the people that I've hurt. And I hurt you most of all". She wanted to acknowledge all the hurt she inflicted… But he wasn't really listening. From what we saw, Tim had a major blindspot regarding Isabel's addiction, where he blamed everything on the drugs. That was his coping mechanism. But it skewed his perspective as well, as Lucy tried to tell him, calling him out on this several times. In his mind, Isabel didn't do the lying, the cheating… It was the drugs. He was compartmentalising. And now that she was in recovery, he thought everything would go back to normal.

Unfortunately, this isn't as black and white. She was under the influence, but she also did those things. And most importantly : she may be in recovery, but addiction can last a lifetime. This is a disease, it doesn't go away just like that. So while she might no longer be using drugs, she was still an addict. He needed to accept that if he wanted them to move forward. But instead, he was unintentionally dismissing what she was saying - something he tends to do when he gets uncomfortable. He wasn't ready to address any of that and she got frustrated, unloading on him, telling him how she used to feel this pressure to live up to his standards. So once he understood there were deeper issues in their marriage that might have contributed to her addiction, his blinders came off. He felt he was at least partially responsible for her addiction.

Now, I don't really think she was trying to blame him at first. She genuinely wanted to apologise and was not skirting responsibility, even when Tim was offering her an easy way out. This tells me that she was sincere in her approach. I also doubt she wanted to divorce him. Addicts are usually asked to refrain from making life-altering decisions like this in their first year, to avoid any major change that could trigger a relapse (and I'm glad the show didn't go there by the way). The problem was that Tim got caught off-guard. He had no idea what he was walking into and as a result, didn't have time to prepare himself. You can't force someone to talk about something so sensitive or accept your apologies. The other person has a right to know first and to choose whether they are ready to discuss this.

Like I said earlier, Isabel got frustrated when he was deflecting and she vented out. And whether that was her intent or not, she did place some of the blame for her addiction on Tim. Deserved or not. In 5.20, she implied there were things from her past she was running away from, developing unhealthy coping mechanisms in the process... So there were clearly other factors at the very least. But regardless, this whole conversation really highlighted the dissonance and the breakdown of communication in their marriage. Because he was never aware of how she felt while they were together. She never told him how she was always afraid of disappointing him. Anyhow, Tim internalised what she said and took on the blame placed on him. Hence why he decided to divorce her. If he could be a potential trigger for her, then staying married would do her more harm than good. He would always be a reminder to that low point. So he did what he thought was best for Isabel's well-being. It wasn't for him. It was for her.

(Don't you worry or apologise about your English - I'm not a native speaker either!)

[multi-lefaiye]

SALVATORE INKTOBER 13. BAPTIZED IN BLOODSHED

Following the bloody death of Joseph McCartney in 1963, Seamus became a different boy. Harder, angrier, overall more cruel. While he'd never been particularly pacifistic, he became significantly more confrontational, throwing threats at anyone who sparked his ire. After that night, he defensively squared his shoulders and bared his teeth, puffing up like a furious cat to make sure the world knew not to mess with him. He began carrying a switchblade of his own, one he claimed to have pilfered from McCartney's corpse.

He'd already killed a man, and he wasn't even sixteen yet. Who knew what else he'd do if the wrong person pissed him off?

By this point, Seamus no longer felt like he had any connection to the little girl he'd been before, if he ever did to begin with. Regardless of who he was before, he'd proven himself just as much of a man as anyone. Leslie Burke was gone, and Seamus O'Neal was here to stay. He may still be young, but he was a man through and through.

This attitude quickly proved lucrative for him, and Seamus rose through the ranks of the Emerald Devils. Being Clarence's ward definitely gave him a leg up over the men around him, but he proved his mettle just fine on his own aside from that. Within a few years, he'd likely become an enforcer as well, leaving his mark on the world of organized crime.

However, in the fall of 1965, everything changed. Following a raid on a warehouse managed by the Devils, Clarence was arrested, along with several other high-ranking members and foot soldiers. Only a handful of mobsters escaped that night, including Seamus, who was able to scramble out through a back door before anyone could see him. He lost a shoe in the process, but he was otherwise undetected and unharmed.

Despite his influence in the underworld, the case against Clarence O'Malley was air-tight and damning. In the end, he and his associates were convicted of racketeering and drug trafficking, each sentenced to 25 years. Following the trial, the Emerald Devils all but dissolved, its members scattering to the wind to avoid being subject to the same fate as Clarence. Including Seamus, the bastard he'd taken in and raised as his own.

In the three months that followed, Seamus floundered, left without a purpose after the loss of his crew. He still lived with his aunt Daisy, but she became withdrawn following her husband's arrest and hardly spoke to the boy. Just as well, he supposed. He had more important business to attend to than his aunt's mourning.

For one thing, he had to find a new way to earn money for his family--not only his aunt, and his mother and siblings as well. Beth had moved back in with their mother, and Martin had recently been medically discharged following a devastating injury on the front lines. Even if he wasn't on speaking terms with his mother and siblings for the most part, he knew it was his responsibility to provide for them.

So, he began taking odd jobs, various under-the-table gigs for anyone who would hire him. He may not have been educated, but he was willing and able to work, and that certainly counted for something. Much of the work wasn't exactly legal, but it wasn't like that was much of a concern for him.

Then, in the summer of 1967, he received a phone call from his older brother Jesse. At first, it seemed Jesse just wanted to catch up, prattling on and on through the receiver, but it wasn't long before he got down to business.

How's your Italian? Jesse asked.

Bad, Seamus replied curtly. Why?

You'd better study up. Jesse's grin was audible in his voice. I might've just gotten you a job.

wow this was so much longer than i meant for it to be- anyway here's the first of the "inktober but without the art" posts i'll be doing! my goal with the rest of the prompt list is to just finish up the prompts and tell the rest of the story. whatever i gotta do to accomplish this goal, i'll do. yeehaw!

i don't think they'll all be this long, but this one had to cover a lot of ground lol. this is also forcing me to iron out details that have been pretty vague in my mind for a while, haha!! so that's good.

unofficial lil inktober taglist (ask to be + or - ): @skitzo-kero @anexor @vacantgodling @invaderskoodge @albatris @abysslll @whonsper @astral-runic @chaieyestea

[viv-weylin]

Bpd Kian Stone, The Essay:

BPD is characterized as: unstable moods, behaviors, and relationships. Kian fits a lot of the BPD symptoms and it's just. It fits too well and my BPD addled projecting self can't help it.

First and foremost, Kian didn't have a great childhood I mean. neglectful parents, a lack of affection or love, seems like an unhappy childhood.

Something people with BPD struggle with is an intense fear of abandonment which, especially in Becky, Kian kind of... has? Kian spends an absurd amount of time mourning his HIGH SCHOOL GIRLFRIEND and by absurd I mean over 10 years. That isn't normal behavior, and really, it gives obsession and FP behavior. What's an FP?

An FP is term that describes a person who the person with BPD is, well to put it, sort of obsessed with and Kian... listen man. I can't stress the Kianbecky relationship FITTING THIS. Kian's happiness and emotions depend solely on how Becky feels and if she's there and when she wasnt, well. Hollywood happens and what happend to Kian happens and hrrhhhfh rhe obsession, the need for Becky to be there even after all that time... I might be looking too into this but I can relate to that and this is a headcanon...

A chronic emptiness is another thing people with Bpd struggle with. They often find themselves filling this with money or other people and BPD IS BASICALLY just this chronic emptiness leading to unstable relationships and I feel like Kian throws drugs, money, alcohol and useless one night stands at that empty hole to try and fill it because nothing will make him feel whole. Even Becky was only a tarp to cover that hole, she wasn't a solution. This hole probably came from a lack of love he got as a kid but whatever.

OK next thing, splitting, or the intense switching between something or someone being good or bad (like personally i do this with people, like my brain switches from they hate me they want me dead until they text me five minutes later and im fine). we don't see this happen in canon since Kian barely got any time to progress and shit but I can. I can headcanon this okay. so in his time in hollywood he definitely struggled with "god they all fucking hate me" and "man they love me look at all the good memories we had!" he had no real connections in hollywood so all he had were those memories to be his only friends and hrrhhhh

rapid changes in identity is another thing and boy does he change! he's literally a stock broker and he can't be Kian when he's a stock broker because he'd just get fired. but I see this most in his personality in general. he's a very stereotypical Rockstar guy, especially at first glance, he never truly grew up normally and never made his own identity because he had no guidance. instead he saw things from TV and movies and books and magazines that he liked and he absorbed that into his personality and he's just. a fucked up frankenstein of things he's seen in fiction. this is also a headcanon but.

"Impulsive and risky behavior, such as gambling, reckless driving, unsafe sex, spending sprees, binge eating or drug abuse, or sabotaging success by suddenly quitting a good job or ending a positive relationship" is another one and dear God Kian babygirl you have this in LEAGUES. Reckless driving? Spending sprees? Drug abuse meaningless sex and alcohol all fit under this and he does all of them A LOT. ESPECIALLY THE RECKLESS DRIVING. DRIVIJG UNDER THE INFLUENCE. THIS ONE FITS SO WELL AND ALL THIS UNSAFE BEHAVIOR GIVES HIM THIS TEMPORARY EUPHORIA WHERE HE FEELS ALIVE AND HE CHASES THIS TO FILL HIS CHRONIC EMPTINESS ANF GIVE ME A MINUTE I NEED TO CRY.

kian is bright and flashy and reckless and fills an empty void in his heart through everything he can find and how can anyone even love him when he's perfectly crafted to BE loved by people but he's not a person. he is made to be likeable but its so fake and he knows it is and their words mean nothing because nothing is genuine and nothing will mean as much as Becky and rolan and Rand-

his relationship with Rand and rolan also interests Me too, it's less codependent than Becky but There's still Something Wrong there, and I think it's just because they were his only TRUE FRIENDS, he could be nerdy and play dnd and I like to think that around them was the only time he could be himself (besides you know. being bisexual,,,) and that's the only time he felt seen and genuine and understood and hh

okay that's my bpd Kian Ted talk thing bye

[not-safeforsanders]

Riptide

Chapter 24: Breezeblocks // He bruises, coughs, he splutters pistol shots Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8 | Chapter 9 | Chapter 10 | Chapter 11 | Chapter 12 | Chapter 13 | Chapter 14 | Chapter 15 | Chapter 16 | Chapter 17 | Chapter 18 | Chapter 19 | Chapter 20 | Chapter 21 | Chapter 22 | Chapter 23 | Read on A03 Ship: Receit Warnings for the whole fic: Drug use, sexual content, sex under the influence of alcohol, alcoholism, implied/referenced suicide attempts, sexual trauma, sex addiction, self-worthlessness. Plot: Remus is running from a history he doesn’t want to face, Janus is escaping guilt that he doesn’t have to bear. When the two meet under the most unlikely of circumstances, Janus finds himself in a whirlwind of a life that gets stranger by the second. As he starts to uncover more about Remus’, and his brother Roman’s, history, Janus finds himself in a much harder situation than he’d thought he’d be in. Can he stop his past repeating itself? Or will he have to carry the weight of living alone once again? Chapter Summary: Remus' emotions have an unsteady sort of day. --

His first day of his classes were only a little exhausting. He'd at least had the sense to wear something comfortable, loose clothing. It made him feel less displaced in the bustling halls of a college, unnoticeable. For once, he was quite content not being the centre of attention. Instead, he sat quietly at the back of class, bewildered how different from school it all felt. People chattered and relaxed throughout the day. Remus, nervous to admit he felt out of his depth, huddled in a corner with his notebook, sketching outlines and writing notes in one long, pictographic flow.

But overall, it wasn't a bad day. It was surprisingly uneventful, which he supposes he should be happy for.

When he recounts the day to Janus, he explains that the course content is surprisingly easy - that he might even do well, here. He'd had to let his course tutor know about his reading struggles, but as it turned out, it was a surprisingly common experience. "Apparently not being able to read right doesn't mean I won't do well," he'd chattered excitedly, flittering around the kitchen aimlessly. Janus watched him with distant amusement, sipping a cup of tea that Remus had all but abandoned in his excitable frenzy.

"I could've told you that for free."

"Oh...shut up."

Janus smiled, shaking his head as Remus finally came to a halt. He shouldn't have looked as extravagant as he did to the other man, wearing a hoodie that he's half-sure is Roman's, and a pair of black jeans. He did, though, his dark hair curling around his ears and a lively flush to his cheeks. His happiness brightened him in a way, his excitement painting a sheen over him far more beautiful than any amount of makeup could ever attest to. There was something so effortlessly alluring about him as he stared down with that smile of his.

“My smart, academic boyfriend," he uttered in the quiet, his reverence barely concealed. Remus blushed, but feigned annoyance with a roll of his eyes and a scoff.

"Don't get your hopes up."

"You can't stop me!" And this much was true. “I thought you might be a little tired when you get back, so, I figured we'd order in, my treat for your first day."

"I love you."

"Me? Or my wallet?"

"It's a package deal," his voice lifted into a teasing sing-song, spinning around excitedly on the spot. "Pizza!" His hands fluttered with the bout of emotion that ran through him, "...first day of college, and pizza!" Janus only watched with amusement, finishing off the remnants of the cup of coffee in front of him, as Remus began to dissolve into a list of all the things that made him happy. "-Did you know I fed a squirrel today? It just stood there looking at me, and I'm like-" Where had all this joy been hiding? All this excitement? Who in their right mind would have ever deprived this from him? "-but it does not go away, and I'm like here, have some granola, I guess?"

"Squirrel friend on your first day, I'm so proud of you."

"I'm thinking one day I can get all the squirrels to trust me, and raise a squirrel army if I ever have trouble."

"Smart plan."

"I know, right?"

He set about ordering pizza on the phone when Remus' chatter died down. His tiredness began to show through, slowly. The realisation that he would have to go back and do it all again tomorrow clearly started to settle in. There was a flutter of pre-emptive exhaustion at the thought, and he found himself unwilling to move from where he sat on his bed. Paralysed by an onslaught of tiredness, he stared at the fibres of the floor and wondered, distantly, if he was well enough for this.

"I ordered the pizza," Remus looked up to Janus. He hadn't even heard him come up the stairs, but he stood there with a frown as he saw the other man unmoved on the bed. "Are you okay?"

"Tired."

"Yeah, it's like that at first," Janus sat beside him, frowning. "Even I was like that when I first started working, routine changes can be difficult for anyone, the best you can do is keep at it and do what you can to make it easier."

"Anyone?"

"Yeah, I mean, I went from a good three months of not moving to a 9 to 5 job, the first month all I did was sleep when I got back." Remus sighed with some quiet relief. "It's not the difficulty, really, it's just getting used to it, bearing with the uncomfortable until it's familiar."

Remus nodded, resting his head against his partner's shoulder, before nuzzling at his neck. Janus shivered beside him, and Remus felt the way his breath caught in his throat against his own lips, where Janus' heartbeat also fluttered.

"I love you," Remus muttered.

"Pizza's on its way," Janus replied, voice suddenly hoarse and strained. The other man could do nothing other than grin, the heat of Janus' flustered response warm to the touch.

"We've got at least an hour," his hand rested on Janus' spine, where a shiver trembled through him, pressing his body into the touch without so much as a conscious thought. "That's some time to kill."

"Re-"

"Please."

"No." Remus stopped. He looked up at his lover with poorly concealed hurt, his eyebrows pulled into such a pointed frown that Janus could only assume he'd just punched him in the gut. "I'm not rejecting you, Re," he uttered, sighing, "...If we're going to do this, we're going to talk about it first."

"Talk about what?"

"About how you're feeling! About how I'm feeling! But not on a time limit and not on a whim, because I don't want that." Remus' frown deepened, trying to grasp an idea of why Janus felt the need in the first place. "I'm not comfortable doing anything that could possibly hurt you, Re, I won't do it if I think for a second it will, it's not fuckin' worth it."

"Why are you uncomfortable? I was the one that was raped." Janus flinched at the curtness.

"Because I care about you, what the fuck else do you think?"

"I should get to decide what I do!" The quick rage that seemed to fly through him was abrupt and uncontrollable. He forgot on some instinct how to curb the fire as it lit in his throat and poured out of him. At the moment, he couldn't have ascertained where it came from, why he suddenly felt helpless and furious.

"You should! But this isn't just your choice!" Whilst Janus simply felt hurt. His voice shook with a more managed anger, measured and weathered to something close to sadness; the raised voice hadn't scared him, but it did wound in one way or another. He hated to upset Remus, even more so when he felt it was a perfectly reasonable request. It would take another few minutes of back and forth and raising voices and the inevitable slam of the door as Remus - now angered beyond anything that made sense - left his own room and stormed downstairs. A few seconds for Janus to catch his breath before he would offer himself an explanation that made enough sense for him to flop back on the bed and groan dejectedly.

The silence in the house consumed them both as they waited and waited. Neither ready to face the other - for shame, or heartache, or just plain sorrow - so they remained apart, until the doorbell rang, and the pizza was there. Janus let the pizza go cold for half an hour before he swallowed his pride and returned to the other man. Remus had hardly touched the pizza, peeling sweetcorn off of the surface and dropping it into the cardboard box.

"I wasn't trying to control you," Janus muttered, "...I know, I figured...afterwards that was probably why you were so angry, I wasn't trying to control what you do with your body, and I'm not making decisions for you - but I am making them for me, Re, I couldn't live with myself knowing I hurt you." He sat down in silence and picked at the abandoned sweetcorn, eating it and wincing at the cold grease and rubbery cheese.

"I don't know why I - I just got so angry."

Janus nodded. "I think, maybe, because you don't want to feel like anyone has any input over you, and that's fine, that's normal, and that's good, but when it involves both of us..."

"Yeah," Remus nodded, "...yeah, I get you." His eyes were shining with tears. He stared down at the mangled and uneaten pizza so hard that Janus wondered if the thing might burst into flames from concentration alone. He slid closer to the other man and offered him an arm. Remus sank against his shoulder and shook with the exhaustion of his own feelings. The anger, residual from the pain he'd suffered for too long, the fear that remained ever present beyond his conscious thought, the shame of existing with all these overwhelming feelings. 

"I love you."

"I love you too."

"Let's try and keep a lid on it, for a bit, yeah, I don't want to ruin a good day." Remus nodded wearily, pressing a kiss to Janus' shoulder, the best apology he had the energy to give.

[evilwickedme]

I'm only just getting into the comics and haven't read much yet, but is Pit Madness an actual thing in canon or just widespread fanon? Bc yeah, I don't like it either but there's so much of it I assumed it was rooted in the text

I've never seen it in a Jason comic, although I don't exactly have an encyclopedic knowledge of his appearances (reminder that I'm doing my best, but I've only been reading DC comics for less than a year). I understand that it's mentioned in comics related to Ra's Al Ghul, but the Pit is used rarely both in and out of text and is one of those things that works however the writer wants it to work.

I can tell you that in the comics I've read that are pre-N52 Jason is extremely angry, but he's also calm and calculated about it, and in n52 comics that I've read he's extremely angry, but mostly reads as impulsive, not sadistic. I haven't gotten to post rebirth Jason comics yet except for a few panels here and there and the Robins: Being Robin comic which was pretty bad in general don't read it, but my impression is they haven't stopped trying to retcon him into "the angry robin" (which, uh, fuck that) but have leaned more into his emotional side as a core aspect of him in recent years, which I in general approve of. Either way, I have never seen a mention of pit rage, only of him being thrown in the Pit to heal his medically impossible walking coma (but this is comics and he gets healed by green goo, so let's not take medical accuracy too seriously).

I understand the appeal of pit madness in two ways: the first is that it makes for an easy motivator. You throw him in the pit, he gets Angry™, and you can use that to tell a pretty interesting story (Red Robin Hood likens it to an addiction, for example, which I found really interesting actually).

But the second is the one I suspect is more common. I think people are uncomfortable with liking a character who is genuinely unremorseful about killing. It directly negates their values. On the one hand, it's super badass when Jason throws that duffel bag of heads onto the table of drug lords in the beginning of under the red hood - on the other hand, gross, right? This is why so many pit rage stories focus on him "getting better". Whether that means being literally magically healed from the pit's effects or if that means learning that killing is wrong, actually, the pit's influence, by the end of the fic, is gone, and the batfam forgives him for all the murder because it wasn't REALLY Jason, it was the Pit!

But like... No it isn't? Like there is zero evidence of the Pit ever influencing any of Jason's actions. Like, if anything, one of my favorite things about UTRH as a story is the fact that Jason is calm, calculated, AND IN THE RIGHT. Not that Batman is necessarily wrong - I mean, I think his particular reasoning is stupid, it's not a fucking slippery slope for most of us, but I also think that murder is, you know, wrong. But Jason is also right - he came back to life to find that nothing had changed in the batfam and Gotham, or if it had, it had changed for the worse! The Joker has done nothing but become more and more threatening as a villain and Bruce has done nothing to amend his methods of dealing with the Joker at all.

Jason's solution is simple, elegant - kill the Joker, he can no longer hurt anyone else. And in a system like Gotham's where corruption makes both rehabilitation and straight up locking someone away for good impossibilities, the genuinely most logical solution is to kill the Joker. Not necessarily the most moral from your or my point of view. But one that makes sense when you look at it through Jason's eyes as a deeply traumatized victim.

I think that if the Pit really had influenced Jason, the best way to use it as a narrative device is as another source of trauma - something that I have seen extremely occasionally in fics. Not as something that influenced his actions, necessarily, but maybe as something that was forced upon him, a kind of loss of bodily autonomy.

But at the end of the day, most of the time the point of pit madness in Jason Todd/batfam fic is to excuse extreme abusive behavior and make it all okay in the end, and I think it's because so many of the people writing him don't understand why and how he uses extreme violence in the ways he does and who feel extremely uncomfortable being fans of someone who genuinely believes that some people deserve to die.

[unpopularly-opinionated]

So I finished watching WeCrashed today, which is the dramatized reenactment of the whole WeWork fiasco, and to get this out of the way early: It was a pretty good show. 9/10

I am biased because I love Anne Hathaway, I think she's wildly underrated by a lot of people. Jared Leto is an enigma of a human being. I am under the impression he is kind of a piece of shit IRL, and I don't entirely disagree. My one and only personal experience impression is the one time my parents took me to Vegas to go see a 30 Seconds to Mars concert, and I kid you not, but this mother fucker showed up sick and basically had the audience sing 90% of the maybe like 5-6 songs he actually performed. Would've ruined the night if it weren't for that also coincidentally being my first Panic! At The Disco concert who opened for him. Went there to see 30 Seconds to Mars, left seeing Panic! At The Disco and wasn't too disappointed, granted I was maybe 14-15 at the time I think, I don't know. Time is an illusion.

Anyways, despite all of that, I shit you not but I think this role was kind of made for him. I've heard Jared Leto has started an actual cult IRL, and from what the show told me about Adam Neumann, he's the type of guy who would probably create a cult himself. And to be honest, he kind of did if the show is to be believed. The entire time I'm watching the show, this man is spinning bullshit like it's golden thread and I kept waiting for the acknowledgement of that; I kept waiting for the behind closed doors scene where he tells his wife, Rebekah (Anne Hathaway), that he's fooled some more cash cows into giving him a shit ton of milk but it never happens and that's because I think this man legitimately believed in every fucking word he said.

The analogy they use in the show is that he's selling people unicorns when unicorns don't even exist, but this man legitimately believes unicorns fucking exist and he's going to make you believe it too. He's simultaneously full of shit, but not at the same time. It was so wild to watch because I just couldn't wrap my head around it. You hear about cult leaders, or shitty CEOs raking in billions of dollars, and you just keep waiting for the other shoe to drop; you keep waiting for the realization that he's actually just this huge piece of shit scamming people out of their money. But I don't know that I feel comfortable calling it a scam when he truly, honestly, and genuinely believes in the bullshit he is selling. It wasn't a bid for money, or power, or control. This man just bought into his own bullshit the same way he sold it to everyone else. He was a drug dealer who partook in his own supply.

The whole time I watched the show, I asked myself if the show was funded in any way by the Neumann's because of just how good it showed them to be. Yes, they were insane. Yes, they wound up financially ruining a lot of people. But at no point did I ever think that was genuinely intentional. If it wasn't obvious already, I went into this show with zero knowledge of WeWork. Literally none. I had only just heard of its existence recently, and I'm actually kind of dumbfounded that a scandal of this magnitude has somehow completely escaped my notice. It took me until I believe episode four before I even understood what it was WeWork even sold. To be honest with you, I'm still not even sure I'm sure what they sold. From my perspective, they sound like glorified landlords but for office jobs, mainly tech companies.

I pride myself on not being as influenced by individuals as others are. I don't do the whole "so-and-so is my hero" nonsense. But I have to admit that if I had met Adam Neumann in person, and he was even half as magnetic as he is portrayed in the show, I'm not entirely sure I wouldn't also be drawn to him. I don't know, man. It's to the point where at the end of the show, when he eventually steps down as CEO and the new CEO is giving his speech, I had this gut feeling of "the bad guys won in the end", even if the "bad guy" in this scenario was the completely rational business expert who actually wanted the company to make a profit. The show sold me the idea that the Neumann's, while fucking insane, were the good guys in this scenario. Which is why I can't help but wonder if this show was somehow funded by them.

Overall, the show was really good. I will say, there was this slight disconnect at the very end though. During the credits, they show a clip from an interview with the real Adam Neumann and Rebekah, and for the most part he seems like a totally normal dude. He's portrayed as kind of manic and psychotic during the show, so it was a major contrast to see him be kind of normal, albeit very passionate in the end.

If there's one type of media drama that I fucking love more, it's all this corporate drama nonsense. It's why Social Network is one of my favorite movies. I just love hearing about the behind the scenes drama of all of these big companies.

TL;DR: I felt so bad for Miguel, the true MVP of WeWork. Fuck me did that man need to grow a spine, but nevertheless I felt bad for him but respected his loyalty to the end all the same.

[merrumeru]

You're driving me crazy when you are coming home, part 2

Pairing : Damon Albarn x Reader 90s!

Words : 6k

TW: toxic relationship, cheating, swear words, drugs, mention of sex

Note: Finally, I managed to finish 2 parts.While writing, I decided that I would also write part 3, so this is not the end of the story yet : ) As always, thank you for your interest in my story, sorry for grammatical / stylistic mistakes. I also wish you a happy and successful New Year!

! The story presents a stereotypical toxic relationship. I do not glorify it and do not support it. If any of you are in such a relationship, please get help, because your worth and your life depend on you and nothing should make you feel inferior.

click to read part 1

septemper 1995

As he said, he did so. He called every day. The sound of the phone made me feel anxious. On the one hand, I wanted to answer and talk to him, but on the other, I knew that it would close the door to a peaceful life once again. I ignored it at first, but after two weeks I decided to pick it up.

„Y/N?” I heard my name after a while. There was surprise in his voice. Maybe he didn't expect me to pick up the call anytime. Or maybe it was the last chance, because tomorrow he wouldn’t try again. „Finally”

„Uhm… what do you want?” I didn't want my words to be so cold. I wasn't annoyed that he was calling, but rather deeply glad in heart that he was still trying so hard. Although this time I made up my mind not to give him hope.

"Nothing. I'm calling to see how you are doing." He hesitated and added "And apologize for being such an asshole lately. At the party, I know... I was a bit overwhelmed, i guess. But I didn't expect you to be there and it all seemed unfair and painful to me."

"Your reaction scared me a little." I sat down on the carpet right next to the table on which the phone was standing, brought my knees to my chest and embrace them with my free hand.

"It's the alcohol's fault and also it's really hard when you're not around. When you seem so far away." I listened to his deep voice slowly pronouncing each word. Why was I doing this to myself? Putting salt in every wound in my heart again. Maybe he was right. It was kind of an obsession. I felt pathetic, but still wanted to hear all those stupid words from his lips.

"I don't want to convince you this time that I will change. I really want to do this."

"How?"

"I do not know yet. But I certainly won't know if you don't let me get close. Please don't push me away. Don't you remember how good we were together? We were connected by something more from the very beginning"

"Damon..."

"No. Please tell me that I can see you again. I won't let it all end like this." His voice was putting some kind of pressure on me. I was starting to feel like I was doing something wrong.As if it was my fault that everything got complicated. "Love.Please say yes. "

"You mess with my head and heart." And I hung up. Hot tears rose under my closed lids and it slowly ran down my cheeks. It was the first time that I felt such a great regret. I had the impression that this one decision would determine my entire future. I had the feeling that this one decision would define my entire future. Will I be happy or will I stay at this pathetic point.

I got up and my eyes stared at the ashtray that stood on the windowsill. Still in it was the cigarette Damon put out over a year ago.If I was going to put my life in order, I should have started by cleaning it up first.

late november 1995

It was one of those evenings where only someone crazy would leave the house. It was gray and gloomy all day, and the rain refused to say goodbye to the city. I had nowhere to go, so when I returned from work in the afternoon, I changed into comfortable clothes and was going to spend time with tea and a good book.

The tea, however, turned into wine. As I slowly felt its influence, I decided to get some air out. I put on my coat and grabbed a pack of cigarettes. The city looked sad. Only tiny points of light scattered the darkness. I listened to the rain hitting hollowly against the street.

Out of the corner of my eye I saw someone running down the sidewalk. I thought that tomorrow this person will most likely regret their choice. This type of rain permeates you to your panties, so a cold was guaranteed. Without an umbrella, only with the hood up, this figure was heading towards my street. The cigarette slowly died out in my hand, but the point I was staring at completely absorbed my attention.

When this person started to approach specifically my apartment, I thought it was one of the neighbors. Unfortunately, I didn't know very well the people who lived in the building.

I felt an unpleasant shiver. As I was about to go inside and close the balcony door, I heard a muffled scream. It was my name. My hand stopped on the doorknob. At first, I thought I had misheard. But when I heard the same thing the second time, I knew I was right.

"Y/N I can see you!" It was Damon. Of course, who else would come near to my house at this time and in such weather.

"Do not shout. It's late. I don't live alone in this neighborhood."

"I know. Excuse me. But you haven't been taking calls from me again. I didn't know what to do." I could sense some disappointment and desperation in his voice. "Wants to see you."

"Take a taxi and go home. You are definitely cold. You are going to be sick!" Even though I shouldn't care anymore, it worried me. I didn't want him to get pneumonia or something else because of me. "Today is not the time to talk."

"Have mercy on me! Nothing scares me when I want to see you. I will come every day and wait outside your window." Then there was a loud sneeze.

"You're fucking crazy Damon!" I said too loud. I was embarrassed that the neighbors might see this scene and talk about me behind my back later. "Come in, but only for a moment. I'll get you a taxi."

I quickly entered the apartment and ran to the intercom. A short sound and after a while I heard his heavy footsteps in the stairwell.

Indeed, he looked like one great misfortune. Raindrops ran down from his hair over his face. The clothes looked like a rag soaked in water.

"There's no time. Get undressed. Go to the bathroom, take a warm shower. I'll make you something warm to drink. Then I'll call a cab." I took his soaked hoodie.

"Okay boss!" A goofy smirk crossed his face. "Towel where always?"

"Yup. I will also bring you some clothes for change. Some of your stuffs are still in the wordrobe."

Damon disappeared into the bathroom. I hung his wet clothes on the dryer and went to look for some others. Why was I still keeping his stuff in the closet? I could return them to him by post a long time ago. I pulled out clean jeans and a t-shirt that had been left untouched in over a year. But there was still his scent on them. I smelt them and thought I must be crazy. Again, I was in a situation that I didn't want to be in and had been avoiding for a long time.

However, I would be lying to myself if I didn't admit that my heart was beating faster when I realized it was him. It was a romantic novel situation.However, I was still afraid that it might quickly turn into something completely different.

Damon was still taking a shower. Meanwhile, I put the water on for tea and prepared mugs. In this situation, the conversation was probably inevitable.I thought for a moment, staring at the mugs

In my memories I returned somewhere to our mornings together. When I would often wake up in his arms, from which I sneaked out to prepare tea and something to eat. His sleepy face, tired after a concert or tour. And only the two of us. No other people. At the time, I didn't think it could be one of the same scenarios for him. After all, he also was waking up in the company of other girls.

"You're so good to me." I didn't even notice when Damon stood behind me and his hands wrapped around my waist. He put his chin on my shoulder. "I feel like I'm going back to the past."

"Enjoy the moment because this may be your last chance." I poured boiling water over the tea bags.

"Let go of me Damon, it's hard for me to move."

"You didn't complain about it then. You also didn't complain when my hands slowly wandered to other places." I felt his hands rise up towards my breasts.

"Oh come on!" I brushed his hands off me. "Do not cross the border. I only let you be here because the weather is not the best.Don't expect my mind to change."

"I am not doing anything. It's just a friendly hug. We didn't say hello properly." I felt his lips against my neck. I tilted my head to the side to stop him.

"Stop it. Why didn't you put on the shirt I left for you." His body was still very close to mine. I felt him press me closer to the table top.I felt hot with stress and some kind of excitement. I was just glad he couldn't see my face.

"I don't like this one. I'd rather be without" his hands rested on my hips. I knew I had to be even cooler not to let him take control of the situation. And control over me too.

"Bullshit. You used to wear it a lot. I gave you shirt on purpose so that you don't freeze any more. Do not behave like a child."

"Oh so your cold little heart is still worried about me." He whispered in my ear. His hot breath made me shiver. "I'm glad."

"It's just common sense. Pneumonia would not be useful on tour. Just because I don't want to be with you doesn't mean that I want something bad to happen to you." I shrugged my shoulders and reached for the teaspoon to get the teabags out of the mugs.

"I've always liked that about you. You could just leave me there in the rain. And yet you did not hesitate. Here I am again. Just thinking about all those evenings and mornings that w-"

"You can be happy, you used this situation well. Always target my weaknesses best. Will you mark it somewhere on your "private success" list?" I turned to look him straight in the face. At first he frowned, then smiled broadly.

"You look funny when you get angry." He placed his hands on the counter behind me. I had the impression that he was trapping me in some cage. "Why are you trying to see only the negative sides. Relax. Love, I won't bite you ... maybe."

"I'm just tired. You're not making it all easy for me. I told you that we'd better not see each other." Our eyes met for a moment, but I quickly broke this contact and placed my gaze on his shirtless chest.

He was thinner than the last time. I knew that everything related to his work give him a lot of anxiety and stress. He wanted to be the best. In each field. Still the media kept him down to earth all the time and did not let him enjoy his success.

I stabbed him gently in the stomach with my finger and tried to push him away, but he grabbed my hand. He lifted our hands and with the free one he pulled me closer. Enough to feel his warmth and heartbeat.

"What are you doing?" I mumbled, pressing my forehead against his shoulder.

"I dance with you."

"You don't have the right outfit for slow dancing."

"You also" He kissed my head. "But you always look beautiful to me".

We swayed to the music that didn't exist. I was completely dominated in his arms. What I secretly wanted was with me, and everything seemed normal. As if all the problems are gone. All it took was a few words and touches to make me feel powerless again.

I wanted to feel loved and protected. To make my brain erase the thoughts that I am not the only one. And I will never be.

"Damon. Still nothing has changed. You make me feel so miserable. Miserable in love" I bit my lower lip until it hurt. I wanted to distract myself from the other pain that was bursting through my chest. " I do not know what to do. I am like in a dream, but around the corner there is the biggest nightmare waiting for its turn. It will be beautiful again for a while and then ... and then I will regret it again."

"I promise you that nothing like this will happen. I'm crazy about you. I'll do some more stupid things if I have to, as long as it allows me to get close to you." He took my face in his hands and kissed me softly.

"I don't know."

"You know it. This is why I am here." He looked deep into my eyes. "We collapsed in love. No matter how long you'd deny it, you won't fool yourself."

"I can't think straight when you say all this"

"So don't think. You're too afraid of something that won't happen." I felt as if his words were telling me some truth. At this point, I was indifferent to what would happen to me. " We're meant for each other and I think we can make it this time, my love."

He was right. I was in love with him endlessly. A whole year without him was one big mistake. Even when I persuaded myself that it would be better this way, I was wondering subconsciously what I could do to keep him for myself. It wasn't only a fun on my part, it was a real desire to have his love. That's why under the pressure of his beautiful, empty words, I broke like a match.

And again he kissed every inch of my body. All the warmth of our bodies was extinguished by the cold floor in my kitchen.

....

We sat close to each other leaning against the kitchen cabinets. The cold touch of the floor on my thighs causes goosebumps on my body. I nestled even tighter against Damon's shoulder. He was quietly smoking and sometimes lazily turning around to kiss my head. There was the same ashtray in front of us, which I couldn't clean for so long.

"This is a really nice surprise." I watched him slowly release the smoke from his mouth.

"Hm?" I didn't quite know what he meant.

"As I walked over here, I thought you wouldn't even let me in. That I'll be standing like an idiot by your window and the neighbors will have a nice show. And also this fucking rain wasn't planned either."

"You should be grateful. If it wasn't for this rain, I wouldn't let you in." I chuckled softly. His hand was lying on my thigs and gently caressed it.

"I just can't go on pretending, that it came to a natural end." Damon muttered. "I never meant to break your heart."

"Let's not talk about this now. You don't want to shower ... again? You're sweating all over." I chuckled as I pushed the sticky hair away from his forehead.

"And we can shower together and continue our ..."

"Forget Alban. It is impossible to shower normally with you. Go first." I got up and held my hand out in his direction.

Damon stubbed out his cigarette and stood up, supporting himself with my hand. His hands went to my bare hips, barely covered with a shirt. His kiss tasted like cigarette but at taht moment it was the sweetest flavor I could ever taste.

"But then I won't leave you alone." I looked at his bare back as he walked towards the bathroom.

I knew I was wrong. Damon's words were breaking my heart, but his kisses brought the pieces back together. And still there was damage than he couldn't undo. And as my fingers dug into his bare back and our heavy breaths mingled, I felt bitterness.

I stared at the void for a moment longer. The sound of the phone snapped me out of my reverie.

"Hallo?" I suspected who it was from the very beginning.

"Is Damon with you? I couldn't get in touch with him and finally figured that idiot must bothering you again"

"Yup, he's there. But we're good... I guess..."

"Good? " Graham sounded surprised.

"I don't know ... I guess so ... It's complicated ..." I tried to find the proper words, but something was blocking me "This is probably not a story to tell via phone."

"I'll visit you tomorrow."

"Ok. I finish work at 8 pm."

"I can come to the restaurant, we will come back together and ... "

And I didn't hear the rest. The telephone receiver was ripped from my hand.

"Bye Graham." Damon growled and threw the receiver against the table.

My heart skipped a beat from fear. I heard thick raindrops hitting the windows with force. The weather perfectly reflects the state of our souls. Enormous strength of character and love that cannot break through the barrier of misunderstanding.

"Funny how it has to be him every time. You're so fucking annoing Y/N."

"And so? What's wrong with talking to a friend....our mutual friend?"

"Friends do not call their friends' girlfriends at this hour."

"You're ridiculous Damon."

"You are always like that, you want to have everything for yourself. One is never enough for you"

"How dare you say that. It's you who keep coming back to prove to yourself that you still have some control over me." What the last hour had created was crumbling again. "You and your ego don't want me, you're only here to show everyone your "big dick energy".

"Stop with this bulshit Y/N. You can't change the narrative and blame me again. So hard for you to admit you're really a bitch?"

"I'm fucking done with you. Get out my house." Damon frowned. His face showed superiority but also sadness. He was well aware that certain words leave irreversible changes.

"Fine. I don't need you and I don't want to try anymore." Damon stepped past me and headed for the door. He casually put on his boots and jacket over his torso without a shirt.

"What are you doing?"

"Going home."

"Like this? It's raining."

"It's not your problem."

"Wait. You can't go like this and leave this shitshow behind you."

"I can and what's more I'm doing it now!" Damon looked my way. "Eventually you'll have the life you want so badly."

"Damon! You know very well that's not what I mean." I felt like I was drowning. So I was giving myself some hope all the time. And now, as we parted again in even greater insecurity and anger, desperation filled my heart. I was pathetic, but I didn't want it to end like this. "Pleas wait a minute! Let's talk like adults!"

"No." And he left. I watched Damon disappear into the downpour.

"You are the worst, jealous asshole Albarn!" The darkness of the night consumed my words. I stood in the doorway of my apartment and bitter tears ran down my cheeks.

january 1996

It was hard for me to believe that I was putting myself in an uncomfortable situation again. However, after talking to Graham, I knew I couldn't remain indifferent. I knew Damon was acting like a prick and our break up would only make things worse. The weirdest thing about it was Graham saying he didn't feel any tension between them. There was only a curse upon me. As if all the fault was on my side. No wonder he was the main topic of our conversation The more Damon tried to pretend everything was okay, the more aggressive, hyperactive and unpredictable he became. His overly close friendship with drugs turns him even more into someone who was on the way to self- destruction.

And I couldn't stand by and let it happen.

I was leaning against the back wall of the club where Blur was going to play tonight. There were still about half of hour to start, but the room was already full of drunk and noisy teenagers. I look at the faces of all those people who seemed completely carefree. The nostalgia of youth was in the air with a thick vapor of alcohol, smoke and sweat. However, I felt completely alienated. As if I had stepped out of my body and watched the whole show somewhere to the side.

I gripped tighter in my hand the beer bottle that Graham brought to me a few minutes earlier.

„You look stressed out like you're about to give a gig.”

„Funny.” I made a dissatisfied scowl at him. „I don't want to be here. Haven't seen him for months. I have the impression that I will see a complete stranger and it scares me.”

„You know… It won't be that bad. It's the same Damon all the time. It's only been a bit harder to get along with him lately. I'm glad you come, he really needs a kick in his ass. And only you can do something.” We stood there for a while longer, but the safer option was for Damon not to see us together. Graham, awkwardly but with some kind of affection, patted my shoulder and disappeared into the crowd.

The gig has started. Three of them were already onstage. But Damon was still absent. The flower of youth, however, did not bother, because of these enthusiastic screams and whistles it was impossible to hear one's own thoughts. My heart was racing when Damon finally came onstage. Or rather, he rolled out. He was completely drunk. Not very pleased, he walked over to the microphone.

It wasn’t bad. However, the gig lacked healthy, positive energy. In the air you could feel something was wrong. It was definitely not as good as before. Before all this emotional mess. I had the feeling that Damon noticed me and that his eyes were staring right at me. It gave me shivers. I wanted it to be true. He looked weary and miserable. His deep voice bore the mark of an emotion that kept his heart from resting peacefully. The audience probably didn't notice it. This secret was kept by me, boys and Damon. Only the five of us felt how pathetic it all was.

When it was over, I waited a short while until it got less crowded. I straightened my dress, took the jacket, and headed for the backstage. I walked slowly, convincing myself that this was no longer the moment to run away. I wanted to help him because this love still was raw, painfull and deep. And there is nothing worse than watching a loved one waste its life through stupid choices.

I was standing in front of a door with a note stuck to it awkwardly with his name written on it. I let the air out of my lungs loudly and pressed the doorknob. The light was dim. I quickly glanced around the room. Damon was with someone. They sat leaning towards each other on a small couch. It did not make any impression on me, it was not an unpleasant surprise. I knew how most of his gigs ended. Hoping he didn't have time to hear me come in, I tried to back out.

„Who’s this?” I heard a soft female voice.

My heart was beating like crazy. Because of my nervousness, I did not know if I was really moving or if my movements were only happening in my head. Before I could close the door, my hands was pulled by someone.

There was surprise on Damon's face. His lips parted slightly, as if he wanted to say something, but he tightened it instantly.

„I was just leaving. Sorry.” I didn't know what I was saying at all. In my mind, I heard the only word "exit" repeated over and over.

„Y/N…” He looked as if in a split second he suddenly sobered up completely. My name was like a keyword during a magician's performance. When it finally came out of his mouth, the whole situation became real. The surprise did not last long, and this stupid grimace I hated appeared on his face.

But for the first time in his gaze I saw his disdain for me. „Well well, the queen herself decided to go down to the people.” I frowned. I didn't know completely what he meant. However, the hostility of his words prevented me from uttering a single word. „Please come in and stay with us. Maybe these are not the atmosphere for a person like you, but I promise you will be great fun.”He pulled me in and closed the door with a loud bang.

My eyes fell on the young blonde sitting on the couch. She was certainly younger than us. Another silly girl fell for a few nice words. But I had no right to judge her. She smiled gently at me, slightly confused. „Forget it. I'm leaving.” I turned quickly, this time without thinking to get as far away from here as possible.

„I didn't let you leave.” Damon grabbed my wrist aggressively and pulled me over to the couch. Without any delicacy, he placed me next to the girl. „Maybe you want some tea or a beer !? Maybe I can find some cookies too!?”

„Stop making a jester of yourself.” His behavior disturbed me. I was afraid of talking to the "Stranger Damon", but it was completely over my expectations. „Jester? Since when being nice equals being a jester. You terribly underestimate me.”

„Oh stop it. If you don't speak normally, I'll leave.”

"Maybe I should go..." the girl was clearly embarrassed.

„Sit.” The atmosphere was tense. I've never seen him so aggressive. He had his moods, it was often difficult to get along with him, but he never acted in such a mean way.

„"Yes. You should go now. Apparently we have a lot to say to each other." Saying this, I did not take my eyes off Damon for a second as the blonde meekly grabbed her jacket and purse.

„How dare you decide if my guest is to leave or not."

„What guest? Bullshit. Are you not ashamed that you involve some young girls in your games?”

„Fuck off. You always have to show up and destroy all the fun. Is that the only thing you are good at? I was hurted by tah remark, I knew it was related to our relationship. ”A dog in the manger". I heard the door close quietly. She didn't even have to be persuaded to leave and probably didn't expect that the night, she would later tell her friend as the best in her life, would end with such a scene.

"I'm worried." Since he couldn't be nice, I decided to be the calm one. "I don't want you to screw up your life." My eyes stared at the table in front of me, where some drugs I didn't know were lying next to the beer bottles.

"Why do you care? You were going to cut me off. Forget." As he stood over me like the accuser, my throat felt dry.

"So let me do this Damon. Don't do stupid shit so I don't have to worry about you all the time."

"Ah yeah, so is pity preventing you from leaving the "poor" me alone? Thank you for your kindness!" The aggression in his voice made me uncomfortable. Damon took my every word as a direct attack. I didn't understand why it was so hard for him to believe that I was really worried about him.My feelings didn't go away in a matter of months. For a moment I even thought that he was doing it on purpose. He provokes me to make me realize again and again how obsessively I need his closeness.

I looked at him. His slim body was leaning against the wall. In his hand he held an open bottle of beer, which he had not yet drank from. Which bottle was it that evening? From his lazy movements and wandering eyes, I could see that he was still very drunk.

His verbal scuffles were tiring me. I got up and slowly walked over to him.

„It's not the pity” Our eyes met again.This time his seemed less hostile. „Like you said the last night we saw each other. I'm obsessively in love with you. I don't like not knowing what you are doing or where you are. And most of all, I hate it when you are angry with me."

I knew that normal, quiet conversation would do nothing. Damon was set to reflect every "attack", and as he was, every word I made sounded like a grudge to him. The only option was to play to admit he was right, his big ego loved to be right, so I had to take a completely different strategy. Even if I had to say words I didn't want to. Even if it had to scratch all my wounds.

„I thought you were over that. This is just another silly relationship that you will forget. You are famous, you are handsome, you can have anything.” I was standing in front of him. Close enough to see his facial expressions even in dim light. I wanted him to look at me again, eyes full of love. However, it was becoming a distant dream. Damon didn't say anything. His eyes were fixed on the bottle. I reached out and touched his hand. Our fingers intertwined automatically.

„Stupid relationship?” His deep, low voice broke the silence. "The love of my life says she loves me, but our relationship is just some stupidity." I felt how he was squeezing my hand tighter and tighter.

„It's hurts.” I tried to free my hand from his grip, but he held it very tightly. I felt like a sinking ship for which every move only made things worse.

„Why don't you want me? " His tone of voice changed dramatically. He was full of reproach and a sadness. And that broke my heart.

„I do not understand what you mean. When we were… together… I never met with anyone else. It was you who insisted we had freedom. Only sex.”

"And that's why you slept with Graham?" I was dizzying mainly from emotions. When this question came out of his mouth, I didn't understand what he want to say.

„What?”

„You have been calling each other for a long time, you were always talking, you were meeting. When things got worse between us, you sleept with him”

„We are only friends! Nothing ever happened between us. If you had any more brain cells, you'd figure out that we mostly talk about you."

"How to cheat me"

"Why do you have so little faith in me? What have I done to you?" My voice was starting to break. "What do you expect from me? I am not your dog, I have a life besides you and your affairs. Why should I give up everything you don't like? This is not what a normal relationship looks like."

"I don't control you." Damon hissed through gritted teeth. I felt how tense he was. Perhaps this was the first time my words started to mean something. " You're just so complicated ... you never say what you want and then you have a pretensions."

"If you were really present in body and soul, whe we spent time together, you would understand me better."

"I was present."

"You don't believe your own words, Damon." I tried to touch his face, but he pushed my hand away and turned his face in the opposite direction.

"So now you know me better than I know myself?" Damon laughed nervously. "Bullshit."

"Don't be like that. I'm really here for you."

"I don't understand why everyone around me keeps telling me I have a problem. Start worrying about yourself or something."

"Because you've changed or... or all this time, i never really knew you"

Damon fixed his piercing gaze on my face. His rage was building up again, I just didn't know what was really upsetting him.

"I love you. Your body, your voice, your smile, everything. I feel the pain consuming me when I can't be close to you. But you keep pushing me away even if I'm sorry. I'm not a fucking stranger but I can see the fear in your eyes." Damon raised the hand in which he was holding the bottle, for a moment it looked like he was going to hit me. However, when I closed my eyes, I heard the sound of breaking glass on the wall behind. He grabbed my wrist and pushed me towards the walls so that we swapped positions. "Admit that what you are feeling is not fear but desire."

Damon pressed me against the wall with his body. His lips traveled over my neck and his hands rolled up my skirt. I squeezed my thighs tighter, a soft moan escaped from my throat. One of his hands was on the inside of my thigh.

"You come here couse you want me to shagg you. Say it."

He placed sloppy kiss at my lips. My hands tightened on his shirt. Our lips pressed together for a longer moment.

"Stop it, Damon." I broke the kiss. I looked at him but he kept his eyes closed. "This is not a good time, we will regret it."

I wanted to hug him but without words he slided down. Damon was kneeling in front of me, leaning his head against my thighs.

"It's so damn hard. I don't know what to do. Pressure, stress, our problems ... there is so much of it." His voice sounded even deeper and sadder than usual. Damon's hands wrapped around my legs. I was gently stroking his hair.

"I know, my love." I tried to choose the right words. It was all difficult for me, but I never took into account what he might feel and where some of his behavior came from. Nothing justified him, but no decisions are black and white. Everyone is complex, and so love is not simple. "If you let me, we can try to sort this out. But you gotta be clean and sober. I don't know where this will lead us or if "we" have a chance, but I really care about you."

"I'm so sorry Y/N for all this shit and for hurting you." And this time his words were sincere.

We sat in silence for a long moment. Neither new words nor those previously unspoken seemed appropriate in this situation.

I stayed with Damon until his manager came to pick him up. As a goodbye Damon kissed my forehead and sent me a grateful, little shy smille.

Only time could heal us and show us if we would succeed. But love and care, which, although hidden under a layer of mismatched words, tears and sorrow, must have become our salvation.

[alexis-dot-com]

Rambly-piercing-talk. If you're interested in piercings, this might be useful.

I just wanted to give some more information to first-timers, wanting to know what to expect from a piercing.

Before we continue, I need to make clear that I am NOT a medical professional. Any and all questions you have should be raised with your piercer, who I'm sure will be more than happy to talk you through everything you need to know. If they laugh off your concerns, or fail to answer your questions in an acceptable way, FIND SOMEBODY ELSE. For the love of god, the most important thing when it comes to piercings is your comfort, and if they aren't willing to accommodate for your first pierce, go elsewhere.

Let's get into it. I've had 6 total lobe piercings, 3 in each ear. (My first two healed over so had them re-done a few years ago. I just had two more, next to them today) I also have both of my Daiths pierced. I had a scaffold (two upper-ear piercings connected with a bar), my lip, and today, my Septum, so 12 in total.

When you enter your tattoo/piercing parlour, you'll be asked what you want. Be sure to do some research and preferable remember the name of the place you want done. If the piercer shuns you for not knowing, find somebody else. You'll be asked to sign a consent form, filling out your name, address, phone number, etc, along with what you want done. You'll also be asked to tick boxes like "I confirm that I am not under the influence of drugs, alcohol, etc". These questions will likely differ from country-to-country, but it'll look something like this.

Once it's all filled in and the piercer confirms that you're able to go ahead with it, you'll be taken to a private room, where the tools should be placed on a table next to you in individually sealed packaging. Next, the piercer will likely mark on your body with a pen where you want piercing. It's usually a small blue dot. Next, you'll be asked to double-check in the mirror before you continue. Make sure you're happy with the placement, as you don't want it re-doing multiple times. After, you'll be sat down and asked to move to accommodate the piercer. You'll have the body part sanitised and pulled slightly, sometimes with a tool (see the pliers below) before being asked if you are ready.

Take as long as you need, and when you're ready, let them know. You'll usually be told to breathe in deeply, during which the actual pierce will happen. I won't lie to you, it'll sting. Of course it will, it's a needle going through your skin, but it'll usually only last a second-or-two. Once the needle is in, it'll need to be followed through with the jewellery. This bit is again, not pleasant. You're having a fresh wound poked about. It should only last another couple of seconds though. Once it's all done, you'll be asked to sit still while they finish up, usually by screwing the jewellery tightly. Once it's all done, you're free to go. I was asked to sign the consent form again, just to say I was happy with the procedure and after paying, was on my way.

As for the piercings I had today, the septum piercing didn't hurt much at all, at least, nowhere near as much as I was worried it would. It was uncomfortable, needing to have this in my nose for like, 30 seconds?

But the actual pierce wasn't too bad. Again, it's still a needle going through a piece of your skin, but that pain lasts what, 4-5 seconds? The pain was more intense than the lobe, but if I can make it through, so can you!

The jewellery going in after was a little more painful, but again, it was only a few seconds, and only really painful because you are having a fresh wound messed with. Uncomfortable, but not unbearable. And now, two hours later, the pain is just like I've been whacked on the nose. Just a dull, hot pain that'll likely stay for a day or two, and it'll still be sensitive for a few weeks, but nothing too bad.

As for the lobes; this is the third time I've had them done, so I knew what to expect; a second-or-two of sharp pain before calming to a dull pain. Again, it feels hot, like I've been thumped, but it'll subside in a few days.

Main take-away from having 10+ piercings? Just get 'em. If you want a piercing but are worried about the pain, just get them done. I know it's scary (even after so many, my heart was still racing). It's ultimately a nervous half-hour before, some slight discomfort as they're prepared, a second-or-two of sharp pain, and a few days of a dull pain. It's uncomfortable, and a little painful, but you can always chug a few pain-killers AFTER (not before, as some can water-down your blood and make them bleed a lot more).

Now, if you're scared of the sight of blood, again, I wouldn't be too worried. These I got done today aren't bleeding at all, and by the time it comes to your first cleaning (VERY IMPORTANT), it'll have dried and come off as flakes. I did notice that the cartilage ones I had done (Scaffold and Daiths) bled quite a bit more, but it wasn't exactly pouring out.

As for cleaning, a little salt mixed in with some boiled-but-cooled water with a Q-tip will do the trick. Be sure to clean both sides of the pierce. It may be uncomfortable as flakes of dead skin and blood can be sharp against the sensitive wound, but so long as you're careful, you should be golden. Repeat this a few times a day, but no more than three. I tend to do it once in the morning, once around mid-day if I'm able to, and another before I go to bed.

You don't want to clean them TOO much, as the salt can dry out the piercing and lead to complications. That said, LEAVE IT THE FUCK ALONE UNLESS YOU'RE CLEANING IT!!!! This applies to any piercings. The last thing you want is to be messing with it every five seconds. Obviously, a septum piercing will cause some issues, what with blowing your nose, (it's allergy season where I am and I'm not looking forward to it) but I managed to gently blow my nose earlier, so it should be fine so long as you don't mess with it.

Some people like to mention that "you can hide a septum piercing by rotating it inside your nostril". Don't do that. At least not before it's fully healed at around 6 months. The last thing you want to do is be moving it at all.

Masks might come to mind, "won't it harm the piercing?". I had to wear one both before and after the piercing while in the parlour, and it honestly wasn't bad at all. It didn't push up against the septum, as the fabric seemed to connect from the tip of my nose to my chin, so it was just barely missed. I wouldn't recommend wearing one for long periods, mind, as the moisture build-up won't be good for it, but you'll be fine in your weekly shops and such. If you're required to wear one for long hours at work, or during transport, I'd say to hang fire until it's safe to do so.

Ultimately, piercings aren't too painful. The discomfort isn't pleasant, neither is the sharp pain or dull one that comes later, but I was in the parlour for around 20 minutes, for all three I had done today. Less than half-an-hour of discomfort and you come out looking hot-as-fuck? I'd say that's a good trade. If you have any questions, feel free to send them to me, or better yet, to your local parlour, as again, I'm no medical professional.