#and also it can go to my head! because the affection of teenagers is an elusive thing

[i-yap]

Jason Todd x y/n thoughts- sexual

SEXUAL THEMES( even sa/rape and really sad stuff) SO MINORS STAY AWAY

Jason todd is a virgin. He got kidnapped really young and has been very against touch since then and opening up-even physically - to anyone. Most times he doesn't even want to get it. Plus he doesn't jerk off as much. As sad as it is , realistically joker probably implied sexual torture. Harley once tried to rape dick grayson, and harley was also someone who used to torture jason...so yea.

He didnt get particularly fixated on it, he just didn't care. Out of all the torture he endured, it probably just became another thing, but he doesn't really feel attracted to most women and he doesn't want to.

till he meets you. First he opens up emotionally. I don't think hookup turned more is a trope that would work for jason. He will first fall in love and then allow himself to open up sexually .

And its like a damn broke down, its a fricking flood. Now most people assume men without any experience suck at sex...NO they are better because not only are they more ready to learn they go by their carnal desire and instincts. Jason also never really watched porn, so he is very observant and easily affected .

that doesnt mean he comes fast, he is smart, he isn't a hormonal teenager, he probably did google and read and more than that he just focuses on what makes you feel good. Because everything is making him feel really good. He therefore is more skilled and a more eager and passionate lover.

Also sex is more for him. It is lovemaking . Most people assume they wanna be degraded, hurt, thrown around(aka me and some of you) but i know that is someone actually hurt me or was mean in real life id get really affected and in my head.

Jason is mean yes, but its sweet mean. "You must really like it when I kiss you here, fucking drenched you are" "so wet baby, all for me?" "has anyone ever made you feel like this" "calm down baby, I got you, let me do it for you yea?"

Its all genuine, all dirty talk is genuine, its not those practiced words , its what he is really feeling in the moment. And what he is feeling is carnal desire and loveeee. Also the first time he tastes pussy- its over for him( technically over for you). He wont hit you, smack you yes but its lightly. choke you yes but very lightly, just holding your neck a little tighter as he kisses you. He is observant he can tell when it hurts. \

Now wouldnt jason want to know what sex with other women may feel like? HELL NO it took him forever to even want someone to hold his hand, and he is like a worshipper. He is devoted asf. He is disgusted you would even ask. Why would he want someone else when he has more than he could even imagine with you? Let him show you just how bad he wants you and only you.

#• #Jason Todd x Reader #Jason Todd x You #Jason Todd x Y/N #Jason Todd Fluff #Jason Todd Angst #Jason Todd Comfort #Jason Todd Headcanons #Jason Todd Imagines #Red Hood x Reader #Red Hood x You #Red Hood x Y/N #Red Hood Fluff #Red Hood Comfort #Batfamily #Batfamily x Reader #Batfamily Fluff #Batfamily x You #Batfamily x Y/N #Batfamily Headcanons #Batfamily Imagines #Batboys #Batboys x Reader #Batboys Fluff #Batboys Headcanons #Batboys Imagines

[itspileofgoodthings]

One of my students saw me yesterday walking across the field at lunch and I waved and then she threw her arms in the air and goes “Miss K, you belong in the SOUND OF MUSIC also I don’t know anything about your love life and it’s not my business but when it happens it will just be [ chef’s kiss motion ]” and it was so cute and funny and everything alsksksjejejehehjejee

#like she just. it was just this overflow of emotion and delight in my person #that only a 17 year old girl can give #it is the positive and very precious to me side of what I was talking about with boundaries the other day #I taught this girl in 8th grade #And then again her sophomore year #and she just. Loves me! A lot! #anyway there are real negatives to it sometimes and just dangers and fears #because it gives me power and sometimes it gives me the temptation to use that power #and also it can go to my head! because the affection of teenagers is an elusive thing #so I’m just trying to stay on the right side of all the lines #but that was kind of just a little gift of a moment after a hard week of worrying #also thank you so much for praying for me. I was able to pray myself about it which I have not been able to #And just remember to give all the most specific and embarrassing moments and missteps (that I do not speak about here) to God #So thank you ❤️ #Anyway

[humansofnewyork]

“The person who hurt us, hurt both of us. But it affected us differently. I isolated myself. I started taking drugs when I was twelve, maybe thirteen. But she just moved on with her life. I could never understand: how can she be so happy, while I’m stuck in my head and constantly thinking about it? It was exhausting to me. She was exhausting to me, especially when we were teenagers. I couldn’t stand to be around her because she was so light and positive and funny. Everything was always so cool, and so good. It felt to me that she didn’t want to face it. She just wanted to accept that it happened, and move on. But I couldn’t move on. I didn’t have that choice. I couldn’t just choose to not think about it. I remember the bad things, and how they made me feel. And I never want to feel that way again. I couldn’t just go back out into the world like it never even happened. I know that there are a lot more good people than bad, I do believe that. But there are bad people too. And they can really hurt you deeply if you give them your trust. So I never trusted anyone. Three years ago it reached a point where I felt completely hopeless. It was all so exhausting. I was exhausted. Exhausted from carrying these heavy feelings. Exhausted from making bad decisions. Exhausted from the drugs. It felt like nothing was ever going to change for me. Around that time we went out to dinner with my mother, and we finally had a deep talk about everything. We’d talked about it before, but maybe this time I really meant it. I decided that I have to let it go. I just have to let it go. I still have dark times when I don’t want to study or work. But when I’m in a bad mood, I’ll turn to her. Her happiness doesn’t make me feel worse anymore. It motivates me. It inspires me. Now she’s the person who can most easily put me in a good mood. I let her be a part of my bad days. And because of that, she’s also become a huge part of my good days. Both of us have gotten a lot more mature, and a lot wiser. But it was mainly me, I think. I had to change. If I hadn’t found a way to let go, we’d still be too different to be this close.”

[ccsainzleclerc5516]

She’s Not So Little Anymore

Pairing: Lewis Hamilton x reader

Warnings: none, dad Lewis yes pls

“You’re not leaving the house until you change your clothes!”

“But dad-“ Harper stammered in a broken voice and teary eyes.

“There’s no but, I said what I said. You can go out with your friends after you put some clothes on. End of discussion.” Lewis told his daughter sternly before turning and heading towards the living room.

“I hate you!!” Harper growled bursting into tears and slamming the door of her room.

“Don’t slam the door at me!” He said in a raised tone. Sitting on the couch he sighed and rubbed his face feeling awful because of the argument between him and his fifteen-year-old daughter.

It was not natural for Lewis to yell and get into heated arguments with his daughter. The two have always had a special relationship - she was daddy's little girl for whom he would remove the stars from the sky just to make her happy. Harper loved and was just as close to you as she was to Lewis, but still, her daddy has always been her number one.

But since Harper entered her teenage phase, it has become very difficult for Lewis to accept that she is actually growing up, that she is changing, that she is interested in some other things that are actually normal for her age.

He really was having a hard time facing the fact that his little girl is not so little anymore. That’s why often broke out arguments between the two of them when Harper would stay out too late with her friends, when she would come home late or mention that she had a crush on a boy or for example like today when she would wear something that Lewis thought was too revealing.

Lewis did all this because he loves her too much and wants to protect her, but, of course, the teenager thinks that her father is working against her and that he is "purposely ruining her life".

Fortunately, not long after the argument, you came back from grocery shopping and found Lewis sitting on the couch looking at the switched off TV.

“Hi, baby” You greeted him happily, but you felt a strange energy in the air.

“Hey” He muttered not turning to look at you.

“Is everything okay?” You ask suspiciously, leaving the heavy bags on the hallway floor.

“Everything is fine except our daughter just told me she hates me”

You immediately knew what it was about. You were aware of how much it affected Lewis. You weren't always happy with some of your daughter's behaviors either, but you understood that it was just a phase and that it would pass, but you also understood that it was difficult for Lewis to face it.

You sighed walking up closer to the couch to Lewis from behind and bent down to wrap your arms around him.

“And that is why?” You asked pressing a kiss to his cheek.

“Because she thinks it’s normal to leave the house wearing a short ass dress that doesn’t even have any straps God forbid some sleeves” He says visibly upset and you can’t help but chuckle at him. “That’s not funny, y/n?”

“That’s not, but you are” You say making yourself comfortable in his lap. “You’re being too overprotective of her-“

“Of course I’m overprotective of her, she’s my little girl!” He cuts you off trying to justify his actions.

“Would you let me finish, please?”

“I’m sorry..”

“She’s no longer a little girl, Lew. You have to make your peace with that. Sometimes I don't like her clothing choices or her behavior either, but that's why we're here to guide her. But you forbid her too many things and she sees it as you trying to control her.”

“I just..” He sighs leaning his head against your chest. “I just want to protect her.. I miss the time when she was with me non-stop. We used to do so many things together now she only wants to hang out with her friends.”

“Baby, that’s normal. If it were any different, we would have been worried.” You assure him putting your hands on his cheeks. “You’re still her number one, you’ll always be.”

“Youe ability to calm me down amazes me.” He smiles at your soothing and comforting words. “I don’t know what I’d do without you. I love you more than you know.”

“I love you too, baby” You place a soft kiss on his lips. “Now go and talk to her”

Lewis immediately got up and headed towards Harper's room while you decided to sort the groceries you had brought into the house a little while ago.

“My princess?” Lewis said gently knocking on the door. “Can I come in?”

Almost the same second, the door opened revealing crying Harper who was still sobbing. What Lewis didn't expect was for Harper to give him a tight hug and start crying in his arms.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” Lewis asked a little worried.

“Because you made me say that I hate you. And I don’t hate you, daddy, I’m sorry I didn’t mean it.” She cried. It stung her as much as it stung Lewis because Harper is aware of how special her relationship with her father is.

“Baby, it’s okay. I know you didn’t mean it. I’m sorry too.” He comforted her rubbing her back. “I don’t like when we can’t talk things out and I hate when we argue. We don’t do that, that’s not us.”

“I know we don’t do that. I don’t like it either” She said quietly.

“It’s hard for me to accept that you’re growing up and that you are no longer my little girl.” He lifts up her head to look at her. “I promise to try to be more understanding of your wishes.”

“Daddy, I’m always gonna be your little girl.” Her words warmed Lewis's heart. She knew what she meant by that. The love Harper has for her dad will always be strong and special and nothing can ever replace it. Lewis was grinning like a child thinking how he is the luckiest man in the world to have the two best girls in his life, Harper and you.

#f1 fanfic #f1 #f1 fic #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton smut #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #f1 smut #f1 fluff #f1 one shot #f1 imagine

[littlemissmiller]

𝑳𝒊𝒌𝒆 𝑻𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒈𝒆𝒓𝒔

Pairing: javier peña x fem!reader

Summary: Javier is your partner while on assignment in Bogotá. You can’t seem to resist him, as much as you tell yourself you’re done fooling around with him. One night, he comes home and the next morning, you finally realize your true feelings for him…

Warning: 21+ (drinking and smoking), semi-rough sex, ass slapping, slight power play, dom!javier, sub!reader, oral(m and f receiving), partners/friends to lovers

Word count: 3.8k

A/N: surprise! it’s pedro! i hope y’all enjoy this just as much as the tom fics (which i appreciate all the support once again, exceeded my expectations). I had this one in the vault for a while, but just went back and edited it so here it is! i have another billy and coryo fic in the works, but a girl has got to diversify her blog page no? also i do plan to post more pedro stuff (given my blog name 😅)ok enjoy! ❤︎

☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎☀︎︎

“This is the last time Javier.” You panted as Javier Peña pushed you up against the wall of a small janitor’s closet. A frequent place you had found yourself in once again, fucking like teenagers. Everyone had left the office nearly, but you still didn’t want to get caught.

“Yeah you said that last time sweetheart.” He growled into your ear as he readjusted you, hoisting you up further onto the wall. Your legs were wrapped around his waist and he was fucking up into you. His pants were only down far enough to let his cock out and he continued to push your tight pencil skirt up over your thighs and hips. You moaned into his ear which caused him to pick up his pace.

“I mean it we…we can’t keep doing this.” You moaned as his lips attached to your neck. He smirked and looked back up at you. His hand slithered up your throat and cupped under your chin.

“Really? Is that why you decided to wear this tight little skirt today? To get me to stop?” He panted

“I always wear these…” you lied

“Yeah well what about this blouse then hmm.” His hand slid down your throat to tug on your collar and then slipped inside your blouse to cup your breast.

“You know I can see right through it don’t you?”

“Maybe I was trying to get someone else’s attention…”you croaked out

“Mmm I don’t think so sweetheart. I know other people are looking but they wouldn’t dare to touch you.” He replied

“Why is that?”

“You know why…” he breathed into your ear “because you’re mine…” he picked up his pace and soon enough you were both coming undone.

He held you in place for a while and rested his forehead against yours. You both panted in exhaustion, your breathing in sync. He planted a soft kiss on your cheek before pulling out and setting you back on your feet.

“You should grab a drink with me tonight.” He suggested as he stepped back, readjusting himself, stuffing his cock back into his jeans and buckling his belt.

“Javi…” you sighed, shaking your head and smirking as you buttoned up your blouse “you know my rules…”

Ever since you and Javier started hooking up, you were very explicit about how your relationship would be. You had told him you weren’t looking for a relationship, but he convinced you to be “partners with benefits”.

Your rules were clear. No going out to bars or dinner, no flirting in front of your colleagues, and nothing more than just sex. Those were the rules left anyways. Javier had a way of convincing you to break them. At first, you had told him no hooking up at work, but about two weeks later and one too many tight dresses, you had broken that rule. And the rule not to show physical affection to each other outside of your activities. He couldn’t seem to help himself around you. He would always wait until no one was around, but occasionally he’d plant a kiss on your cheek or come up behind you and plant one on the back of your neck. It would usually turn into more, but occasionally it was just in passing and very quick.

“C’mon we can go as just co-workers. Then it’s not a date”

You looked up at him and rolled your eyes. You slipped your heels back on and started to fix your hair.

“You know what I told you. I’m not looking for a relationship, especially not with you.” You looked at him pointedly and he frowned “besides if you and I get together who else is going to fuck the hookers Escobar likes the have around.” You have joked raising my eyebrow

He rolled his eyes.

“They are informants and I get very useful information from them”

“Oh besides how they like it” you smirked reaching for the door

Javier stopped you. His hand wrapped around your wrist. He looked at you and you looked back at him intensely, snapping your head in surprise and confusion.

“Are you jealous or something?” He asked

“No!” You laughed “besides we get good intel like you said.”

He released your wrist and grunted in agreement. He traced his hand over your own, moving it from your wrist to your finger tip. He moved his fingers around your palm and rubbed his thumb over your knuckles.

“You should still get a drink with me though” he insisted, continuing to stroke your hand. “Hmm…what do you say? He kissed your knuckles this time, which took you off guard but it wasn’t unwelcomed.

A part of you had put these rules in place mainly for yourself. You knew getting tangled up with Javier like this would be trouble and quite frankly a distraction. Maybe you needed a distraction, but with your own partner? Would that really happen? Maybe because you also knew, in the back of your mind, you had deeper feelings at play. You thought about it and, in that moment, you realized you were about to break one of your own rules again.

“Fine.” You started, dropping your hand to your side “just as co-workers thought. This is not a date or anything like a date.”

“Fine by me. Whatever you wanna call it.”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. You opened the janitors closet and poked your head out. You looked around and stepped out. Javier followed after you.

“Let’s get going. And separate cars.” You commanded, looking at him seriously

“I figured.”

“Where are we meeting?” You asked

“That bar near your place. The one on the corner next to your apartment.” You answered

Of course he chose somewhere near your place. You thought he was gonna try and take you home with him after. Back to his place. You were wrong. You and him met at the bar and, what ended up being one drink became three, then a cigarette, and your night was pretty much set.

“This ain’t too bad hmm?” He asked

“I don’t mind getting a drink with you Javier. Just the principle of it I…struggle with”

He smirked at your answer “Is that so?” He slid his hand onto your knee which made you almost choke on the beer you were sipping on.

“Javi!” You gritted though my teeth in a low tone

“You said no flirting in front of co-workers or at work. Nothing about outside of work.” He smirked.

“I hope you understand that you’re not coming home with me tonight.” You remark pointedly

“Oh really why is that?” He asked rubbing my thigh

“Because we are just getting a drink as co-workers. Remember.”

Javier leaned back with a satisfied smirk on his face and downed his whiskey.

“You’re at least gonna let me walk you home?”

“It’s just around the corner.” You reminded him

“So?” He asked

“I’ll be fine, but I have feeling you’d follow me anyways” you joked

“You think I’m too overprotective of you?”

“Sometimes….” You looked at him and he looked at you not with lust but something else. A deeper longing and you knew in that moment what you had suspected for a while. Javier Peña seemed to have fallen for you.

He ended up walking you home and you begrudgingly let him in for “just one more drink” and soon after you found yourself back home with him, although you didn’t actually have sex. The two of you drank whiskey and just talked. Something you rarely found time to do. Simply connect with each other. You both sat on the couch, Javier took the liberty of your closeness to occasionally caress your thigh or play with your hair. It was simple, yet incredibly intimate. You and him eventually moved to your bedroom, where you cuddled up on him. Neither of you talked much after that. You simply lost yourself in that moment with him. You felt complete and your heart felt full. You slowly faded into sleep against him and without realizing it he had kissed your forehead several times after you had fallen asleep until he too drifted off.

When you woke up the next morning Javier was still asleep, sleeping on his stomach. You watched his back muscles as they rose and fell. He breathed heavily and you tangled your fingers loosely in his hair to try and wake him up. He kept sleeping, so you decided to take a shower. As the warm water poured over your head you thought about the way he looked at you the night before. His big brown doughy eyes that looked at you like a puppy dog. His hand on your leg, fingers playing with your hair and his charming smile. And the way you held each other until you both fell asleep. You realized that you liked him too. You had been resisting him and the idea of you two together. Especially given that you weren’t too sure how the DEA would feel about you and him having a relationship.

Would you not be able to work together catching Escobar worse get fired? You didn’t want to lose everything at work just to be with him, but you also couldn’t help but feel this way for him. Your thoughts are disrupted when you hear the shower curtain being pushed back. Javier stepped in behind you and came close, pressing his chest against your back. You kept your eyes closed as he wrapped his hands around your waist. He started placing light kisses on your neck and you reached up behind to cup his face. You could feel his cock getting hard on your ass and you reached down to stroke him. He groaned into your ear as he cupped your breasts.

“Mind if I stay?” He whispered

You spun in his arms and looked into his eyes. That same loving look from last night appeared on his face and you knew that he definitely had feelings for you too. There was no turning back now. For either of you. So you accepted that you were also in love with him and leaned into kiss him. It was passionate, with full force. He pushed your back against the shower wall, cupped your face with one hand while the other was planted on the wall beside your head. You moved up against him and moved your leg slowly up to his waist. He dropped his hand and immediately groped your thigh.

“Wanna stay in here or take this back to the bed?” He asked

“I don’t think we’ve ever done it in the shower before” you remarked

“We haven’t” he smirked

You reached back down the stroke his cock and smiled at him.

“Well Agent Peña…” you said as you continued touching him. “What do you want?”

His hands traveled along your body and settled on your waist. He spun you back around and pushed you back up against the shower wall, grabbing your wrists and holding them behind your back. You let out a breathy moan. You knew calling Javier “Agent Peña” turns him on. And you knew that it could make him go from the sweet man you cared about you so much, into a man hungry with lust. It makes him want to be in charge.

“I want you. And I suggest you behave. Got it?”

You moaned in agreement and nodded. He slapped your ass and tightened his grip around your wrists.

“Words sweetheart…”

“Yes sir…I’ll…I’ll be good” you reply somewhat begrudgingly.

Javier and you had this game sometimes when hooking up. You knew whenever you called him by his formal title, he was going to want to ravish you And you liked to give into him sometimes. Pretend you were a suspect or one of Escobar’s whores. It excited you, in a way you didn’t even know was possible. Makes you feel on edge and you like the anticipation that had control over you. Sex with Javier was usually always good, but when he was trying to find out where the next shipment was going to come in or where Escobar was going to be next he definitely had a few tricks up his sleeve. A few tricks to get girls to talk in bed.

Then he spun you back around as he grabbed your ass again. He rubbed his hand over it and slid it down in between your thighs. His fingers started rubbing your folds and you started melting up against the wall. Letting go of your wrists, he held you closer to him so your back was against his chest. He started pinching and twisting your nipples with his free hand. You let out a series of moans and whines. The hand in between your thigh snaked up and began to rub your clit. His fingers traced over it before pressing down and rubbing in a tight circle. You moaned and arched your back. He moved his hand across your sternum and pushed your back against his chest.

“Don’t move too much sweetheart” Javier demanded. “Just stay right here”

You held onto his biceps now that both of your hands were free. Your legs were shaking and everything around you was going fuzzy.

“Goddamn Peña you make me feel so good.” You whined

“I bet if you were actually one of Escobars girls I’d get information out of you real easy.”

You let out a mix between a moan and a laugh

“You flatter yourself Agent Peña”

With that he pushed you up against the shower wall some more you steadied yourself with your hands. You gasped in surprise at his sudden dominance. He pushed your legs open slightly, his hand grabbing the insides of your thighs. Then you felt the tip of his cock push into you and gasped.

“Would you tell me now?” He asked nipping on my ear lobe

“You’re going to have to do more than that to get anything out of me”

With that he pushed all the way inside you. He felt so full, so big. You couldn’t help but let out a long, staggering moan, but you weren’t about to say anything to him, about how good it felt. Not even say his name. It’s what he was trying to get out of you in this little game of yours. He started pumping in and out of you slowly at first, but he soon picked up his pace. You only let out a few soft moans as he worked his hips against your ass. You weren’t going to let him win that quickly, yet the pleasure was agonizingly good. He started pounding into you and you could barely contain your whimpers. His hand came down and sharply landed on your ass. He smacked it again and again. Each time you couldn’t help but let him hear you.

“Got more to tell me sweetheart?”

You shook your head and he growled into your ear

“C’mon now I know you wanna talk to me. At least tell me how good it feels”

You didn’t reply and he smacked your ass one last time. He pulled out abruptly, spun you around and turned the water off.

“I know what will make you talk…” he smirked

You stared up at him doe eyed, somewhat confused and scared and somewhat in anticipation. He pulled the curtain back then scooped you up into his arms. You wrapped your arms around his neck and legs dangling from the crook of his elbow. He held your naked body against his tightly and walked back into your bedroom. He threw you down on the bed and you let out a slight yelp. He crawled on top of you and started kissing you again.

“If you won’t talk to me from me fucking you…then I guess I’ll just torture you with my tongue.” He whispered

He worked his way down your entire body, kissing every inch slowly. He was methodically in his actions. Kissing, sucking, and nipping on your flesh like an animal that just caught its prey. He slowly reached your core and began teasing the inside of your thigh with his lips and tongue. Your hand moved down to grab his head and move him where you wanted. He bit down on your thigh, giving it a hard slap, and looked up at you.

“If you want me somewhere specific you’re gonna have to use your words.”

You groaned in response

You watched him as he went back to teasing you. His mouth drew closer and closer to your clit, until finally. Your hips bucked up in his face slightly as he flicked his tongue over the sensitive bundle of nerves. He held you down and started really going for it. He ate you out like he was starving for you. Javier lapped you up, sucking and teasing your core. His tongue was relentless and kept bringing you closer and closer to the edge. He could sense it too. So he kept you on edge for a while. Javier pulled back, gawking at you as your eyes and pouty lips silently begged him to return his mouth to your slit. He slowly rubbed you as he admired you. He stroked himself with his free hand and bent back down to kiss your thighs.

You squirmed when his lips touched your skin again, so desperate to cum for him. Javier kissed your clit again, his soft affectionate demeanor driving you crazy. You wanted to cry out, but you held back, still remembering that he’s trying to coax you into telling him how good he makes you feel. How bad you crave him. Javier made eye contact with you as he tasted you, his tongue delicately danced over your folds. You bit down on your lip hard, eyes never leaving his. He pulled back again, catching his breath. He rubbed your clit again as he looked at you.

“C’mon baby. Why don’t you tell me how good it feels hmm? C’mon let me hear you.” Javier nearly begged but you just shook your head. His face changed as he scoffed at you.

“Fine. Gonna be a stubborn little thing hmm? Two can play at that game.” He said, removing his fingers. You buck your hips up at the loss of his hand, your face scrunched up disappointment. He sat up on his knees and beckoned you to him. You crawled forward, eyes never leaving his. With his cock in one hand, he stroked the side of your face

“Well if you're not going to speak, then maybe you can use your mouth in a different way hmm?” He suggested. He cups your face and draws you close to his crotch.

You opened your sweet little mouth, and he traced your bottom lip with the pad of his thumb. You opened and took him into your mouth. He was so big, and you could feel the tip as it prodded the back of your throat. You gagged slightly and he cooed at you. He pumped into you, loving the way your lips became fat and plumb. He held the back of your head and he continued moving his hips. Javier tilts his head back in bliss, his grip getting slightly tighter in your hair. He looks down for a moment, reaching for your ass and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck that’s good.” He quipped. He looked back down at your mouth then back up at your ass. He ran his hand in-between your cheeks and started to rub your slick folds. His actions caught you off guard and you popped your mouth off his length. You moaned and gasped as your legs started to give out.

“Oh there she is. Can’t help it now hmm? Come on, tell me how good it feels.”

You held back for as long as possible, biting down hard on your bottom lip until you can’t help it anymore.

“Mmm mmm ooh fuck Javi fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck..” you finally cried out, your legs shaking uncontrollably. You duck your head down, face against the mattress as Javier made you cum. You convulsed on his hand. He smiled, his satisfaction ever so apparent.

“Thaaaats it. Oh fuuuck, you’re so pretty baby. So pretty cumming for me like this” he moaned

You stared back up at him, eyes slightly wet and glossy from having him down your throat. With a finger under your chin, he guided your lips back up to his. As he kissed you, he gently pushed you back on your back and you spread your legs for him. He wanted to tease you still, catching you while you're still a babbling mess. He rubs your clit as he pushes himself inside you. It was overwhelming at first, and you clenched around his cock.

“Javi…I-I oh fuck your gonna make me cum again” you squealed

“Good. Tell me who makes you feel good hmm?”

“Y-you Javier ok. You win you win you win, I fuck, I-I…”

“Go on. Say it. Say it to me.”

“I want you. Not just, not just like hooking up…I want all of you please…please…”

The admission stumbled out of you and you almost regretted it as you said it but Javier simply smiled. As he pumped into, he leaned down and kissed you

“Ohh I want you too. I have for a while.”

His passion overtook him and he sped up his hips. He was practically possessed, letting his brain go numb as he continued to drill into you. Your fucked out face gawked at him, continuously looking at his face and then at the place where his cock had entered you. The feeling of pleasure consumed you, he felt so full and deep in you. You never wanted this to end and neither did he. Javier kissed you frantically, savoring you.

“That’s all I really wanted this whole time. To know you wanted me too.” He whispered

You nodded and he pumped into you more deliberately.

“Christ baby you feel so good. Not gonna last much longer.”

Mhmm go on. Fill me up. Fuck pleasepleasepleasepleaseplease…” you beg over and over again until he came. His cum spilled into you, feeling warm and filling. He took a moment to catch his breath, kissing all over your face as he did.

“Mmm Javier, we’re going to be in so much trouble…” you muffled as he kissed you

“You really think…” he kissed you “that we should worry about that” he kissed you again “right now. In this moment”

You sighed against him and shook your head

“I hope you have a plan for figuring this out.”

“You know I’ll figure it out baby.” He smiled cockily

He cupped your face and continued to kiss you over and over again. You slowly melted into his touch and so did your anxiety. At that moment you didn’t care. You had him, as much as you had tried to resist him, you wanted him and now, now you had him.

꧁✹❂✹꧂



#javier peña #javier pena x reader smut #javier pena x reader #javier pena fanfiction #javier pena narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal smut #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #fan fiction #javier pena fic #smut #fan fic smut #narcos #pedro smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters

[celestialprincesse]

WHEN I SAY NEED I MEAN NEED!!

The 141 + Konig with their s/o wearing a pheromone perfume just to tease them or simply just for fun to see their reaction while they are turning FERAL to get another wiff of that addictive smell.

(u could just skip this but if you have free time and willing to is an absolute)

Thank yew besty, i can sleep in peace now. 😌

Anon baby?! You cute toot little genius megamind?! Also I can't believe this is my first time writing for König? Anywho💕

Price buys all of his s/o's perfumes, knows the scents they like and their favourite notes and therefore buys them a perfume for every occasion or at any airport duty free he manages to browse. Because of this, he has a tendency to bury his nose in their neck, or kiss the insides of their wrists, the smell of them alone allowing him to think back to the day they got married or the night he proposed. When he stuffs his nose between the crook of their neck and their hair, and doesn't recognise the scent they're wearing, he's immediately confused, leaving his face smooshed against them whilst he tries to work out what it is they're wearing that smells so delicious. They're just trying to reply to some emails whilst he's literally got his face buried in the back of their neck, sniffing loudly as he tries to get their attention. "You got new perfume?" He grumbles lustfully, voice halfway between a low grunt and a breathless rumble. "Mhm. You like it?" "Smells fuckin' delicious - smells like sex." "Sex?" You giggle incredulously. "Sex. Speaking of which, come to bed."

Gaz loves when the smell of his s/o lingers around their home and reminds him of them. He loves when his head hits the pillow of the bed and their sweet shampoo lingers in their shared space, or when he puts on one of the hoodies they've borrowed and it still smells of them. When he comes home from an errand to them sat watching their favourite show on the TV, he practically lays on top of them like some kind of human weighted blanket, stuffing his face up their shirt with a deep sigh. "Smell good." He grumbles into the warm skin of their sternum. "Yeah?" Your hum, scratching your nails soothingly into his scalp, to which he only gives a contented hum of approval. He spends the afternoon just sort of nosing at their skin, and ends up falling asleep in their shirt.

Johnny is just generally feral. This man uses all of their fancy creams and lotions, just generally doesn't share the boundaries that some couples would have. He'd spot the perfume on their bathroom counter straight away, probably brush it off too. He doesn't really pay it much mind how good they smell until they're both pottering around the kitchen together making dinner. He'll just sort of inch closer until he's grabbing their wrist where they've spritzed a tiny bit of the perfume that morning and proceeded to forget about it. He's so weird about showing his affection too, probably nipping at them and licking them throughout the day, confused as to why they're more alluring and attractive than normal. His mind races with thoughts of maybe they're ovulating or he's got some kind of weird hormonal guy thing going on. Whatever it is, he's all over them all evening, and practically pawing their clothes off when they get to bed.

Simon gets grumpy when he can't control himself around them. He's a man who prides himself on his ability to remain stoic and impassive, not to mention the fact that he hates feeling like some out of control, lovesick teenage boy. He gets all huffy and puffy, and his s/o is like genuinely concerned for him, so much so that he walks in on them in the bathroom scrubbing at their neck and wrists with a loofah. "The fuck are you doing?" He grunts with an inquisitive, amused raise of his eyebrow. "I - um - spilled something?" "Like that 'pheromone' stuff I got the purchase notification on my bank app for?" "Whaaaaaat? No! Maybe." He just sort of chuffs at their oversight, and the fact that he'd literally seen them browsing these faddy pheromone perfumes on the sofa right beside him.

König literally is just an animal. This man has very limited social decorum as is, at home? Yeah, no, gone. His boundaries are non existent, and he has a tendency to paw at his s/o, slip his hands down their pants or up their shirts daily. Wearing pheromone perfume doesn't help their cause. He spends the day following them around the house like a needy puppy, whining when they swat him away so that they can work or cook or go to the bathroom. He acts all grumbly and wounded and pathetic, and they promptly hide the pheromone perfume, deeming it more of a hindrance than a help, although it is kind of entertaining to see their nearly seven foot, sniper boyfriend so needy over something that they thought was a total scam. It doesn't stop him from practically dragging them to bed by the scruff of their neck, huffing about how he's been wanting them all day.

#cod mwii #cod mw2 #tf 141 #cod #call of duty #John price #captain price #John Price x y/n #John price x reader #Kyle garrick #Kyle gaz garrick #gaz garrick x reader #gaz garrick x y/n #johnny soap mactavish #soap mactavish #john soap mactavish #soap mactavish x reader #soap mactavish x y/n #Simon ghost riley #Simon Riley #ghost Riley #Simon Riley x y/n #Simon Riley x reader #Konig #Kong x reader #konig x y/n #Angies asks!

[loganlermanstanaccount]

Rigor Mortis (part 5)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Part 4, Part 6

summary: You deal with the aftermath of last night. Lyla has a party.

warnings: very suggestive. mentions of sex, vulgar language, etc 18+ Minors DNI

a/n: this is so so so self indulgent i cannot express it enough. probably ooc asf: you've been warned.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here

wc: 8.5k (i'm on a strict plan and had a lot to get through lmfao)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

and they were good.

Eventually, you're bundled into your room in a fit of giggles and with shaky legs. Even in Miguel's hoodie, insisted upon by the man himself, the sheets feel a little colder after he leaves. Initially, he had collapsed on top of you; smothering you with the heat of his bare skin and the sweats that ride down his hips, dangerously low. You're pushing him off, or trying to, heavy and leaden-limbed. Whether it's the weight of that orgasm or the remnants of that blunt that turns your arms to jelly – you don't know.

Honestly, you don't think you care. He's resorted to laying his head on your chest in mock sleep – clearly still high as fuck – and stretching out on top like a housecat. He's warm on your lap; so you bring a hand to card through dark brown curls that rest on the flat of your sternum. 

You'd never have known it: Miguel has a playful side, beneath all the sarcasm and red tape. 

In the morning, he's gone - with only his hoodie as proof that something happened. For you, it's a hazy memory - warmth tinged in the lazy light of last night's high. It comes and goes like the tide on a quiet beach: remembering how he touched you, the feel of bare skin on bare skin, the way it burned when he kissed your shoulder…. 

And it's gone, again. You're left tracing the hickey at the base of your neck, and it aches . A little moment like that, fooling around like teenagers on prom night, and it shouldn't feel as intimate as it does. Groaning into your pillow, you burrow into the expanse of your roommate's hoodie. With a busy week incoming, you can't afford to be distracted – not like this. 

And so, you bury the urge to knock on Miguel's door, and put your lips around the words that mean… more. You want more. It feels greedy to verbalise it, as if you've seen too much of him already. The irony; humping almost fully clothed and yet, feeling so bare. It leaves a strange taste in your mouth – blood, maybe. Maybe he's finally done it: stuck the knife between ribs to find out what colour you bleed. Miguel's a scientist after all; prone to making things go pop and snap , slicing into specimens with a steady hand.

It's too much, too close for comfort and you can't afford it: affection and intimacy in any shape or size was a fatal wound , especially after last time. Instead, you let the morning waves crash over its outline left in sand. A body – blood and gristle and guts – washed away by the tide. 

You find yourself pushing down dangerous feelings. After finally getting comfortable with Miguel, all that progress seems for naught; bumbling around the apartment like a deer finding its legs. The first morning, you're spared a confrontation as he's already gone from the apartment. Earlier than usual, and you hand-wave away that little voice in your head that says: he's avoiding you . 

He's not. He can't be. And you know it because he's able to look you in the eye. Briefly, but it's much longer than you can last. You have a whole conversation when he comes home and it only makes you want to rip out your eyeballs a little. 

You're on the sofa, hands in your lap and antsy. There's a stupid soap on the TV, but you can barely concentrate; head too full of cotton to make sense of the screen. You're so lost in thought that when the door clicks open, you jump half a foot into the air. 

"Shit." You turn, watching Miguel kick his shoes off at the door. Flashing him a nervous smile, you wave limply and turn around to cringe. 

"Heeey," God. You burrow into the cushions. 

"Hey." He's got a plastic bag in hand. He drops the rucksack on his back, and goes straight to the kitchen. 

You call out. "Takeout's in the fridge." 

He hums, and you hear clattering from the doorway. Turning, you watch; sleeves rolled up in a smart shirt. You can see the muscles in his back from here; the ripple of hard lines under cotton. Craning your head, you can't help but be curious. 

"Stop sticking your nose in."

You're halfway off the couch, and stop dead in your tracks. 

"M'not-" 

He peeks out from the doorframe; catching you in the act. 

"You're not allowed to look."

It leaves you spluttering, getting off the sofa like a spoilt child. He's telling you not to look, and like clockwork you're itching for it; padding towards the counters. Miguel must have superpowers the way he catches you, leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed across his broad chest. You're on your tiptoes and trying to get a glimpse into the kitchen. He shifts in the way, tight-lipped and shaking his head. 

"Meant it. It's a surprise." You cock your head, like you can't believe what he's saying. 

You step to the other side and he steps along with you, blocking your view. 

"... Miguel ." You say it slowly, incredulous. You're stepping closer, ever so slightly, but he stays stony-faced and resolute. 

For the first time in 24 hours, since you basically fucked him in the room next door, you're looking each other in the eye. Squinting, you hold his gaze but he barely cracks a smile. 

"Sit down." He says it sternly, but his voice is soft. "Please."

With a flourish, you bring your hands up in surrender and inch back towards the couch. It's the usual chopping and thudding of cabinets being opened and closed. It takes everything not to look back, but you force yourself to concentrate on the TV. 

Finally, he places a bowl in front of you before flopping to your side. He's still in his work clothes, adjusting the waistband of black slacks and popping off the buttons at the top of his shirt. You're trying not to stare, not to drool at the way he just melts ; sinking into the seats like a lolly on a hot sidewalk. When he brings his bowl closer, that's when you inspect the contents of yours. 

"Is this…?" You start, and he hums; taking a healthy slurp of noodles in the process. 

You shake your head to no one in particular. It's the very same instant ramen you've stopped buying, after constant complaints and lectures from the man himself. There's enough salt in here to banish a demon, he'd spit. In retaliation you'd bite back, saying, maybe you'll fuck off where you came from, and retreat to your room to eat in peace. It's your favourite flavour; perfectly salty and flavourful and definitely not good for you. In the broth, there's the milky white and yellow of an egg, with spring onions and fresh veg breaking the surface. Even before you've taken a bite, you feel that warmth at your chest, again. 

He doesn't even look at you, pointing a finger at the screen instead. 

"I thought Jenny was dead?"

You clear your throat of that lump, rising up like a fishing boat spit up by the waves. 

"That was her twin sister, Jane."

"...I thought Jane was dead." He frowns. 

"No, no, Jane faked her death in the mining accident; and ran off with all that inheritance money… were you paying attention last episode?"

"No, you watched it without me."

"Yeah, but you said you hated this show–"

" –only because it's a total rip-off of La Patrona ," 

"And yet, you're begging me not to watch without you–" 

"Begging seems a little strong–" 

He's kept his sharp tongue, and you're too occupied with arguing to notice the hand wrapped around the back of the sofa; how you're both inching closer until your legs come to rest on his own. You're focusing on his lips, drawn in by a pull that seems stronger than gravity. 

He's saying your name, and you snap out of it. Blinking up at him, a deer in headlights, you remember yourself and look away. Tension pulls at the both of you, a string as thin as fishing wire that snaps with your realisation. You like the way he looks, flushed and flustered after a long day. You could make him feel even better, right now, if he wanted it. You'd drop to your knees and wrap a hand around his cock, pulling those beautiful sounds out of him – the very same ones you'd fucked yourself to the thought of, not so long ago. 

If, being the key word. And with the way he shifts back, away from you, you're not too sure if last night was a flash in the pan or something more. 

Everything about Miguel screams dangerous; flags in deep scarlet that are telling you to stay the fuck away. He doesn't commit, sleeps around; refusing to define or put a label on any significant relationship in his life. He won't even admit, say the words, that he's fucking a half-dozen girls right now; even when you've got concrete proof in the form of messy lips and banging on the walls. Okay, maybe half a dozen is a stretch; but three girls, on three separate, multiple, occasions for sure. Probably; you haven't technically seen anything but if the precision of last night was any indicator – the terrifying speed at which he made you fold like a lawn chair – he had significant experience. He was a fucking veteran; dedicated to the sport for the love of the game. 

You find yourself caught in his web all the same; kicking yourself at your naivete. He's turned away now, seemingly unfazed, making little comments at the show you've got on TV. It's becoming increasingly clear where you stand: caught in a game of chicken with your roommate – a man with balls of steel, if last night was any indicator. You're ill equipped to deal with such levels of conflict avoidance, despite years of hands on experience. 

The question remains, stuck in the gaps of your teeth like udon, thick and dense and chewy: how exactly does he feel about you? Where do you belong? 

~~~

It's been quite the week and a half, mostly spent trying to make sense of Miguel. One minute you're at each other's throats, and the next, he's talking you through rate laws and kinetics equations. Apparently , you've got a lecturer he used to have, and he insists on sidling up to you on the dining table; prodding at your paper and liberally crossing out errors. His inconsistency has you irate ; and it means you get petty, picking fights and laying easy bait. Frustratingly enough, all it does is make that tension worse; thick and choking ; in your little apartment. 

The only thing you have to look forward to is the party at Lyla's; of which you've volunteered to help set up. It means food, and drink, and a couple hours of respite, hopefully. 

On the day, you get to Lyla's early. Miguel's at work, promising to be there in a couple of hours, and so you take the subway instead. Yet again, walking up to her apartment feels like another world – one of marble and faux fur and lots of animal print. When she lets you up, you're left with only your thoughts and the quiet hum of the elevator. In the mirrored wall, you take stock of your outfit: snug denim and a little shirt. Admittedly, your wardrobe felt a little lacking – jeans and a nice top being your go to. Right now, your only hope is that the dress code would be more forgiving. 

The door swings open and Lyla's pushing you towards the living room, chattering away at a mile a minute. It's overwhelming as you're dragged into the light, half a dozen boxes and its miscellaneous contents strewn onto the floor. 

"–and Jess has the nose of a bloodhound, so if anything seems even a little off, she'll know… "

You nod slowly as Lyla squeezes your arm with so much force, it cuts off blood supply. 

"Like clockwork. We need this to run like clockwork."

Fingers numb, you watch as her features set; a wide smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes and shadow that cuts her face just so. Overcast and dramatic; simply put, it's terrifying. 

There's a loud Pop! from behind, making you jump. 

"... sorry !" Peter's voice rings out, and there’s a tangle of brown hair and dark eyes peeking over the kitchen island. 

Walking over, you can see he's splayed out on the tiles, balloons littered all over the place. A balloon pump, long discarded, sits in its packet at barely an arm's length. More importantly, though, he's got a bundle of red hair and freckles in his arms; little May, sniffling and whining with what's left of a balloon between chubby fingers. 

"Might need some help, over here…" He says it softly, rocking the little girl in his lap. 

Lyla rolls up non-existent sleeves, face scrunched up in concentration. She closes her eyes ; fingers dancing as if typing on non-existent keys. 

"...okay, okay, change of plans." She turns to you, eyes wrenched open and hands clasped together – Machievellian in nature. You suppose; with the sheer extent of her party planning skills, able to pull strings this way and that; it fits. "We've got exactly 3 hours and 23 minutes before everyone else arrives, plus about 17 minutes, give or take, before Jess does."

"How do you kno-" You start, but Peter presses a finger to his lips. She's in the zone, he seems to mouth. 

“I need you and Pete to get these balloons done, and then we can set up the archway. I’ll call Ben, ask him where the fuck he is, and then we’ll see if we can get some banners and streamers up…. God , and the food…. think I need to threaten someone at the catering company, give me a sec,” She stalks off, muttering something that sounds important. Pete shrugs, kicking over a box of balloons; black, white and gold, a lot fancier than you had expected. May is eased off of his lap, and he presses a gentle kiss to the top of her head. She sniffles, holding her head up bravely. It's probably the cutest thing you’ve seen all year.

“I give her 5 minutes before she realises Miguel’s going to be late.”

“...and God help us when she does.” You finish for him, settling down on the cool marble. 

You make a start on the balloons, opening the untouched packets and pulling out a shiny pump.

“How long have you known each other?” You busy your hands by stretching the neck of a deceptively small balloon.

“Oh, Lyla?” He frowns. “A couple of years, maybe. We met because of Miguel – same with Jess and Ben, actually.”

It's your turn to frown. Miguel was the glue? It’s a picture that doesn’t quite match up with the meet-cute that you were painting in your head. If they met because of your roommate, it must’ve been a contentious group project, or someone rear-ended in the parking lot, that brought them together: something with a lot of shouting and arguing, you decide. 

Maybe Pete sees the surprise on your face, because he adds, “I’ve known Miguel for longer, though… and he’s a lot nicer than people give him credit for.”

“...I didn’t say he wasn’t.” Nice? Not a chance. 

“But you were thinking it. Promise, once you get to know him–”

He’ll give you a mind-numbing orgasm and pretend it never happened. Or something like that.

“ –he gets less confusing?” You grumble. “I’ve seen enough, I think.”

“So maybe he’s a bit of a prick. But under that cold, stony exterior; buried deep, deep, deep…”

You raise an eyebrow.

“Deep down , somewhere, he’s got a heart.”

“I just,” You pause, choosing your next words more delicately. “I didn’t expect his friends to be like you guys. Fun and–” …a little batshit, and… “ – spontaneous. He’s so stoic sometimes, it’s worrying. Like, he’ll just blank out on the couch–”

“–frowning in the corner like the wall’s pissed him off personally? Yeah, I’ve seen that one a few times.”

“He’s just so hot and cold! Sometimes we’re good and almost friendly, and then all of a sudden he’s avoiding me at all costs, holed up somewhere. A-And then he’s making me breakfast, like that blip didn’t even happen… did I do something wrong? Has he said anything to you? I-I just want him to–”

The man besides you chuckles. And then, you flash him a violent look that has him flattening his features in a hurry.

“He just… takes some time to warm up, s’all. He’s changed – changing. I mean, we went to highschool together and I didn’t even realise ‘til we met again in college.”

“You went to highschool with him?”

“Yeah, but I was like, 2 grades ahead of him. We didn’t really talk except… we were both in this robotics club afterschool.”

“Robotics? Wires, and circuit boards, and–”

“ –robots. Honest-to-God, hand-on-heart, stupid little robots. And being teenagers with way too much time on our hands, we’d build ‘em, and then make ‘em fight to the death. Miguel… he took it way more serious than everyone else there. We’d mess around with goobers and battlebots – hell, sometimes we’d skip to get food. He was.. He was always there, though, hunkered down in the corner and tinkering away at something.” 

“Now, I wasn’t popular in highschool, at all – I went to Robotics Club , so I think that about sums it up – but I remember… no-one could really understand him. Top of his class, always up for awards, but people thought he was a little weird. Come rain or shine, he’d always be in that corner seat with a screwdriver basically glued to his hand. And we didn’t have a clue what he was building.”

He seems wistful, thinking back to that time. 

“When I finally asked him what it was, at the end of maybe… 2 semesters,” He smiles, one that deepens his dimples and brushes the corners of his eyes. “He finally told us. It was a… a fucking arena for all the stupid stuff we built. He’d really thought it through, too: all our equipment would get jumbled up, so he made little boxes and sections to separate them in. There was an LED pad he’d programmed to keep a scoreboard. It was made out of this… self-healing vinyl so we wouldn’t need to replace it too often. He got so excited when he was explaining it all; about how it folded up so we could bring it with us when we changed classrooms, and… honestly, I think they still have it there.”

He sighs. “I think that’s all he knows how to do, y’know. That’s the language he speaks, the only one he really understands. Taking care of people, giving them what they need. You’re barely friends with Miguel, then all of a sudden he’s giving you hangover cures cooked up in his kitchen, and cussing you out in the morning, ‘cus you went a little too ham after a breakup. Or…he’s bringing pizza to your apartment at 3 in the morning, ‘cus he knew you were lying about being okay after your Uncle’s funeral.”

He’s got a faraway look in his eyes, an absentminded hand in May’s. Her stubby fingers curl around his, and then he’s back, snapped out of that distant daydream.

“Give it time. He’s been through some shit. Miguel’s got layers, like–”

“Like an onion?” You offer, weakly.

“No, no. Like one of those cheese wheel things that May likes so much. With.. with the wrapper and the waxy red stuff on the..?” He handwaves it away. “Forget it. MJ knows what they’re called.”

~~~

You put your back into helping set up. You don't quite get the theme, but Lyla explains it all whilst you hang the contents of those boxes on the wall: a maximalist, hedonistic mish-mash of food, drink and decor. She wants it to feel like if Gatsby three raves, and actually fucked that sad twink – whatever that means. The visual representation of an orgasm, but classy, she says. More, more, more; and if your back doesn't hurt by the end of it, then it's not enough. 

She's got you hauling ass across her front room, draping fabric and moving furniture like it's your job. Ben arrives and between the four of you (five, if you include May clambering on decor), it's all done. You can't help but think she's done a great job: the whole room decked out to look like the cover of an expensive wedding in Vogue – excessive but in a way that's only classy when rich people hire someone else to do it. Lush fabric in lieu of streamers draped on the walls, balloons sculpted into arches and tastefully dotted around the floor. The theme is black and white, with hints of gold, and gentle strings of pearl hang from ceilings and walls. It looks good, because it has to; Lyla's made you move everything around about a million times. 

Gleefully, she rubs her hands together, turning to all of you. "Food's going to be here in 10, I think. You guys get changed and I'll double check when Miguel's bringing the cake."

Peter and Ben disperse into various rooms – with Peter noticeably rubbing his back, May on his arm. You're left with Lyla, awkwardly looking towards her for guidance. 

"...get changed?" You look down at your woefully casual outfit. It seems you've come completely unprepared. 

"Yep. Miggy didn't tell you about the dress code?" 

…it's becoming increasingly difficult to cut your roommate some slack. With everything that's happened, rather conveniently, he's neglected to make any mention of a dress code. 

Sheepishly, you start, "I didn't know, shit –" 

Lyla cuts you off and brings a hand up to silence you. Bouncing on her toes, she's almost giddy with excitement. 

"I know exactly what you can wear!" 

She leads you upstairs to her room. You perch on her bed; and whilst you grapple with the fact that she even has an upstairs, you lose her in the deep depths of a walk-in. Lyla rummages through almost cartoonishly; wading through fur and leather and giant coats like an explorer hacking through dense forest. Eventually, she resurfaces, waving a bundle of white fabric. She hands it to you with a grin. 

She gives you some room, pushing you through the double doors of her closet to get changed. The dress feels amazing on: well-made, thick fabric and endlessly snug in all the right places. In the mirror, you marvel at how such a simple garment transforms you: a silky slip that stops about mid thigh, draped beautifully on your shoulders, and hugging your hips like a glove. There's a little slit at the side that stops just a bit higher than you'd usually be comfortable with, but… it works. Incidentally, your makeup and hair compliments the look; soft and pretty and–

You hear a small gasp from behind the door. Lyla's got her head peeking out into the room, and then she's at your side with a gentle hand on your arm. She spins you around in front of the mirror. 

"You look…" Her eyes light up, marvelling at you. " Gorgeous. You have to keep it."

"No, I can't… I won't . I was already underdressed, and this must have been expensive. I can't."

"No shit, of course it was expensive. But that's not a good enough reason… I barely wear it, and I've got more than enough clothes. Keep it ." She's smiling, head just over your shoulder in the mirror. 

"It's not too much…?" 

"Honestly, babe, it's not enough." She giggles. "D'you like it?" 

It feels weird to look at yourself like this, dolled up and pretty – contrasting how you've felt in the past few months. It feels like you've been in survival mode; exhausted and perpetually tired. On, all the time, and sick with worry about one thing or the other. You've forgotten to take care of yourself, and as a result, this feels different. 

Lyla notices: the way you stand up a little straighter and adjust your hair; the way you try your hardest to clamp down a smile. Do you like it? Slowly but surely, you nod. 

"You're allowed to like it, y'know," She says, softly. "You look happy. You look good. "

You believe it, when she says it. You let that feeling carry you down the stairs; one hand on the railing and Lyla babbling away with an arm looped around yours. 

~~~

Miguel is late – really late .

He was meant to be at Lyla'a about an hour and a half ago, which means he's rushing to get the cake. For once, at least that goes smoothly; and he picks up a little red velvet affair, piped to perfection and with " Happy 27th, Jess!" written on its face. It keeps him company on the way to the party, sitting snug on the passenger's seat as he drives more carefully than before. He figures it's better to be safe than sorry; already this late, there's no need to add cake smasher to the list. 

The day's been draining, and he wants nothing more than to curl up in bed with his favourite podcast. He knows his friends like the back of his hand, and knows that when Lyla says a small celebration for Jess, just a house party ; what she means is going the whole 9 yards, an excess of food and drink and disgustingly expensive decor, all for the sake of a birthday. He's had a glimpse of the guest list, and recognises about half of the people there – Lyla's too friendly for her own good, he thinks. He'd tried to talk her out of it, knowing Jess would be more than up for a smaller dinner, but she had her mind set. And it's impressive, what she's no doubt managed to achieve in the past few weeks of meticulous planning. 

Nevertheless, it's not something he has the energy for, right now. Work had been a slog; and he'd had a couple hours of lectures before a meeting with his thesis supervisor – where she had ripped his outline to shreds, frankly. He's still sore from that verbal lashing, but fears the one he'll get from Lyla more, if he doesn't come. 

And… and there's you, headstrong and stubborn and insisting on attending; even though he had made it abundantly clear you were under no obligation to do so. It must be out of spite, he thinks. But with the dress code, he can't help but daydream as to what you'd look like; maybe, a pretty little dress on, hair done a bit different, and… ohhh fuck. He didn't tell you about the dress code. 

He's gripping the steering wheel, annoyed at himself for such a little slip up. And it's not just the fact that he's forgotten; but he knows, considering the past few days, you might take it the wrong way. He's not stupid ; he knows he's been wishy-washy, all because it's hard to decide how he wants you or if he should. More than anything, he feels guilt; getting you high and oh-so close to fucking you, just the way you deserve, and then… he can't. It's hard to explain, and even harder for him to wrap his head around. That logical part of him screaming: you can't fuck your roommate without consequences. But he's already had a glance into Pandora's box, a taste of that sweet fruit – of temptation , strong and heady. 

It's that taste left in his mouth, of something sweet, that lingers when he walks into the party. The door's open, but even from down the hallway he can feel it: the rattle and shake of pumping music. He squeezes himself in, dodging the mass of bodies packed into the main room. The lights are low, music loud and the celebration well underway. More than anything, he's hoping it's so busy he can just show his face for a bit, and then slip out. 

He towers over other people, shuffling past, giving a nod or hello to all the people that slap his back and greet him. A scattered chorus of 'Hi' s and 'S'up, Miguel's, and then he's placing the cake on the counter, pushing past half-empty drinks and beer bottles. He snatches one up, looking around. He's watching for the furred collar that Lyla's no doubt wearing, or mousy brown in the neon lights; but with the pumping mass of bodies, he can't see much. 

He's ready to check upstairs when the crowd parts, and he sees you ; swirling in the mass. It makes his chest bloom with heat; you're gorgeous, dressed in white like an angel and smiling in a way he's never seen before. And then, his heart stops as someone else comes into view: another man, somewhat taller than you. There's an arm wrapped around your waist, and the man dances up against you in a way that makes something cold and bitter flare up within him. Miguel stays glued to the spot, for some reason, unable to take his eyes off of you: illuminated in the light, beautiful and flowing like a spectre. And like nails on a chalkboard, all he can do is watch as you dance up against someone else. 

His mouth goes dry, and then he's making a beeline for the double doors at the back; a glassy entrance to a balcony tucked away. The air is stifling in there, but when he's on the balcony, finally, he's able to breathe. 

There's someone nursing a brightly coloured drink, in its corner. Jess, big hair braided back and a velvety red jumpsuit on. She turns at the clatter of the door opening, before bursting into a wide smile. 

" Miguel!" She cheers, enveloping him in a hug. 

"Hey," He smiles warmly, sinking into her arms.  "Happy birthday, Jess."

"Thank you, kindly." She curtsies, producing a faux southern twang and laughing all the same. Then, she wags a finger at the man in front of her. "You're late . "

He rubs his temples. "I.. I know."

"Lyla's gonna fucking kill you. "

"I know."

She gives him a playful punch. "You okay, over there?" 

He gives her a rueful smile. "Yeah, Jess. Of course. When am I ever not okay?" 

"I've got a list, big guy, but we'll be here all day." 

She laughs and Miguel glances over through the glass; drawn to you even now. The song's changed, a bass line that rattles the panes, and you're still glued to that guy . Just as quickly, he looks away. 

With a front row view to that display, Jess raises an eyebrow. She follows his gaze, connecting the dots. 

" Oh. " Her voice is gentle. "S'that her?" 

" Her?" Miguel echoes.

" Her . Your roommate. The one Lyla says you're fucking."

"You and I both know– " 

"Okay, okay, maybe she didn't say those exact words…. but there's something there, for sure."

"Not possible . " He says it plainly, like it's the most obvious thing in the world. 

She leans against the railing, taking a careful sip of her drink. 

"Xina says you're doing stupid shit to impress her. Peter says you're making heart eyes whenever she's in the room. Ben says– "

"Xina? What's she got to do with anything?" He's deflecting, Jess notes. Miguel, usually so quick with the sarcasm, and he's refusing to touch the other half of what she said. 

"...you're tutoring half of her classmates."

He purses his lips. "Yeah, but I didn't think –" 

"...you didn't think girls would talk?" She splutters. Of course it sounds stupid, when she puts it like that. 

"Yeah, well, Xina's still not talking to me , so…" He trails off, shaking his head. 

"It's almost as if you broke her heart into a million tiny pieces, Mig." She rolls her eyes. "Get your head out of your ass, man." 

She turns to face the city and Miguel does the same, with a heavy sigh. It's quiet for a moment, with only the sound of cars below and dull thrum of speakers behind to keep them company. He's always liked this, he thinks. A moment of calm with Jess, the only sane person for miles around. They're able to sit in comfortable silence, in a half-minute that transcends words. 

He reaches into his front pocket, pulling out a little parcel that's wrapped up in red paper. He nudges Jess, handing the present over. 

"Happy birthday." 

She smiles, tearing into the little package. Then she stops halfway, heart melting at what peeks through. 

" Miguel… " She coos, a hand on his arm to steady herself. Out of the packing paper, she produces two little boots; red and blue and made of soft wool. "How did you…?" 

"It wasn't obvious, but… sick in the mornings, switching to soda when we go out to a bar…" He allows himself a smile. "And I asked what's-his-face, just to be sure."

"See, I can't tell if you actually don't know my husband's name or–" She cuts herself off with watery laughter. "F-Forget it. Fuck, I'm gonna cry all this makeup off,"

He takes a sharp intake of air. "They were… mamá made them." 

"Thank you, oh God . I know how much this–" 

He cuts her off with a hand wave, as if to say; don't worry about it. "Sorry I couldn't come to the wedding. Your husband seems nice, and he treats you well. Although , he's kind of–" 

" Corny . Yeah, we get that a lot." She's half laughing, half crying, fanning her face to stop her mascara from running. 

He wraps a big arm around her, pulling Jess into his side. Happy tears, he hopes as she blubbers. 

"I think m'getting too old for this… we don't see each other enough, lately… a-and I would've been happy with the dinner, then Lyla told me there was an emergency over here–" 

"She did good. Really good. Don't tell her I said that, though."

She nods, bringing a finger to her lips with a smile. "And you don't tell the other's about…"

"Of course not. When you're ready, Jess."

"I love you, man." She grins wide, and Miguel returns it with one of his own; an increasingly rare megawatt smile. It quickly falls with her next words. 

"If you ever tell anyone I said that, I'll break your kneecaps and blame it on the hormones." 

She grabs his beer, opening it with her teeth, and hands it back to him. A little scared, Miguel takes a healthy swig. 

"Oh, shit. " Jess exclaims, batting his arm. "I completely forgot. Lyla's got some stupid games on, upstairs."

"Who with?" 

"The usual suspects, Mig – though Peter's long gone and… I don't even know where Ben goes, actually. But you can bring your girlfriend up, if you promise not to eyefuck her across the room."

" Gross , Jess."

She raises a hand up in surrender, leading the way back inside. 

~~~

Miguel's here all of a sudden, and in a moment you thought would be more of a bang ; you lock eyes with him as Jess herds you upstairs. It's less of a sharp pain at the ribs and more of a crescendo; pooling warmth spreading to fingers and toes. He's still in his work clothes: crisp white shirt with a couple buttons undone, and black trousers. A little formal, and yet, he doesn't feel out of place; wearing the monochrome of the dress code, and looking twice as good as any man in the room. Somehow, you've forgotten how tall he is; lumbering over everyone else as he cuts between the crowd. He snakes behind you, giving you a strange look as you walk up the stairs. All of a sudden, you're weary of your dress, tugging down its hem as best you can. Miguel stays behind you, a gentle hand at the small of your back. 

"You're okay," He whispers, sending shivers down your spine. " I've got you ."

He doesn't mean it like that , but it's too easy for you to close your eyes and imagine what it could be; words he kissed into skin when you're on top, struggling to take his length. 

You ignore that coil tightening at the pit of your stomach, choosing instead to focus on Lyla stumbling through the door,  trademark pink shades slipping down her nose. Behind her, there's a little sitting room; plush furniture and a massive tv – with quite a few consoles in the corner, you note. She shouts your name, barely audible over the music. 

" – oh, and hi, Miguel!" She's too drunk to be mad, and you don't notice Miguel visibly relaxing. She takes your hand, calling over to Jess just behind you. "We saved you a mocktail, J."

Taking your seat, you settle down next to Lyla; perching with your legs crossed on the seat. Miguel sits some way away, on the opposite side of your makeshift circle, clearly trying not to make eye contact. Jess elbows him, and he turns to her, before having a heated argument; all hushed whispers and hand gestures. It's the most animated he's been in the past week, for sure… 

"We're playing Never Have I Ever, Jess! Like back in college."

The woman in question rolls her eyes, giving a flash of pretty dimple. Back in college, Lyla says, when they'd drink cheap beer and spill their guts in dive bars – a tradition Jess wasn't too upset to see go. She didn't have the stomach for it then, and she doesn't now; but it probably wouldn't hurt to relive some of that fun. 

It's a warmup round, so to speak; a strong drink thrust into your hands. You take turns going around the circle, starting off relatively tame. First, it's Never have I ever skipped a class. Everyone, all college aged or older, drinks to that one. It's practically a given. And then someone chips in with Never have I ever broken a bone . Again, most people drink – taking advantage of the freebies to get a little tipsy. 

It's Lyla that throws out the juicy ones, after a couple of duds. 

" Never have I ever faked an orgasm." She says it from behind her glass, giggling. 

Less people drink, this time. Sheepishly, you raise your glass, taking a healthy gulp. Lyla takes the opportunity to gasp, clutching at her chest and fanning her forehead dramatically. 

You're whispering back, half laughing and half telling her off, "That's not that weird, Ly. Hasn't everyone…?"

"Not me. How's your partner meant to know it's shit if you fake it?" 

It's her sincerity that makes you laugh; wide-eyed and completely incredulous. You're clamping down the giggles when you look around, immediately locking eyes with Miguel. He gives you an odd look, as if amused. 

You're up next, and roll up metaphorical sleeves. "Never have I ever had a threesome. "

There's murmuring around the room, and a couple of people take a drink. Lyla does, with glee, and someone else you don't quite know the name of. What surprises you, however, is when Miguel takes a swig; eyes locked onto yours. 

You feel heat rising, blinking away as best you can. You still feel his gaze, of course. That game of chicken, the one you've so desperately been trying to avoid, rears its ugly head. You think Miguel is winning. 

The questions get more and more provocative. Never have I ever been pegged… or pegged someone else. Lyla drinks, Jess takes a gulp of her fruity mocktail…. and so does Miguel. Never have I ever been cheated on. Most people drink to this one, including yourself. A shitty teen relationship barely counts, you suppose; but you're taking every opportunity for a drink right now. 

Never have I ever cheated on someone. One or two people drink, and at least they have the decency to be ashamed. When Miguel drinks, however, you shift in your seat. Something settles within you, discontent. Yet again, your image of the man in front of you changes. For someone who sleeps around, maybe it's not too much of a stretch for him to cheat ; but the word feels so final, too cruel. It doesn't match up, for some reason, with your Miguel, who brings you piping hot noodles and hot water bottles on a bad day. 

This time, he doesn't meet your eye. 

Lyla decides she's bored, bouncing on the balls of her feet. 

"New game – truth or dare!" There's faux groans from around the room. Lyla sticks a tongue out, ignoring them, and continues. "Jess, as the birthday girl… you get first pick."

Jess lights up, gorgeous , with the hoops at her ears swinging to and fro when she looks around. You haven't spoken much to her, but she seems like good fun; making a whole song and dance of picking the first victim. 

It's obvious, in hindsight, who she'd pick. There's only one person in the room visibly squirming, almost sweating , at the idea of something so out of his control. 

" Miguel," She says, turning to the man sinking into cushions. "Truth or dare?" 

He gives her a look, and she combats it with one of her own; the kind that could melt steel beams, and says It's my birthday, don't be a dick. 

" Dare ." He grits his teeth. 

"I dare you," She pauses for dramatic effect. "...to show us your porn watch history." 

Imperceptible, his eyes flash towards you. You notice , mouth dry. He groans. "We're not 19 anymore, Jess. It's childish. I'm a grown ass man–" 

" Truth or Dare , Mig."

"Truth." It's quick – which is very reasonable, considering her tone. 

"When was the last time you fucked someone?" 

Everyone turns to Miguel. He's looking at you, of course, wincing at the words he's about to say. 

"I don't…" He's swirling the beer bottle in his hand, and then he shrugs noncommittally. "I don't know. A… month, maybe."

" Bullshit!" Someone whisper-shouts, and then there's some laughter. 

Jess' eyebrows jump up, and Miguel bats her concerns away, whispering something under his breath. You can't quite catch it but his body language is clear: don't ask. He downs the rest of his drink, lips around the bottle, as some liquid trails down the side of his jaw. You're watching, unrepentantly obvious, and he catches your gaze. Without breaking eye contact, he swipes a finger to the liquid and licks it up.

Heart racing, you force yourself to look away and try to concentrate on the next few dares. The circle seems to have moved on, more interested in whatever juicy shit they can drag up in the next poor victim. 

You've all but zoned out when it's the turn of Jun, egged on by a couple of friends. You frown. He's that guy you were dancing with earlier, caught up in heady music and swirling lights. Jun is handsome, in that famous starlet kind of way; square-jawed, pretty eyes, and dark, cropped hair. Boy wonder is lean-lined with a nice smile; the very same that had reeled you in on the dancefloor. Maybe it's the liquor, but you think he's looking at you now; raking sharp eyes over your figure. 

"How do you know him?" You whisper to Lyla. 

She cups a hand to your ear, more than halfway to being absolutely wasted. 

"Used t-to work with him. He's nice enough, I think…? There was a rumour around the office; and apparently, he's got a massive di-" 

"Truth or dare?" Someone says. 

"Dare. Obviously." He flashes a smile in your direction. 

You squirm, and Lyla shines with realisation. 

"Oh my God." She whispers, and then she's interrupting before you can stop her. "Makeout with the hottest girl in the room. A proper one, tongue and teeth and–" 

You elbow her, square in the ribs. Thankfully, she takes the hint. Jun cocks his head, as if mulling it over. He gets up. 

Your head spins with the drink, and you're concentrating on keeping your sneakers flat on the ground. Head down, you don't notice the man walking over. He crouches, tapping your knee. 

"Oh." You say, blinking up at him. "Hi, again."

"Hi, again." He smiles. It's like you're the only two in the room, and with the way he looks at you, eyes darting to your lips… "Can I kiss you?" 

The words get caught in your throat, so you nod, fumbling. 

He places a hand to your chin, gently pushing you closer and then you're kissing; sweet and gentle. You separate, and you open your eyes to find his blown . You've got tunnel vision: his lips are pretty and wonderfully swollen – you just can't help it. 

You go back in again, parting your lips to let him in. He's cradling your jaw, tracing a hand up your thigh and it feels good. Closing your eyes, you sink into the heady haze of booze, grabbing at his shoulders. They're not as broad as Miguel's, and Jun isn't as clean shaven. When you snake a hand to the nape of his neck; it's rougher than your roommate's hair, cropped into a boyish cut instead of Miguel's gentle curl. Sighing, you both come up for air, and you're almost disappointed at the distinct lack of red-brown blinking back at you. 

Nails on a chalkboard, and you're back in the room. You look around to amused faces, catching Lyla wide-eyed besides you. Jun's cheeky, placing a quick peck to the side of your mouth before sitting down. From your vantage point, you're scared to look, to really look , in fear of what you'll see. 

Miguel, in the corner, with a white hot grip on his beer bottle. Catching that stormy gaze, something just clicks. Something resembling power, absolutely intoxicating, that heady rush you got from kissing someone else. Or, more accurately, getting a reaction from your roommate. Notoriously unwavering, and yet … he reveals a gap in his armour. A silent swipe to the ribs that doesn't kill, but draws blood. 

People are dispersing now, growing tired of the games. Lyla darts off; with the attention span of an excited pomeranian, and the excessive alcohol, she's already lost interest. You take a breather, sinking into plush cushions and catch Miguel's eye. In the commotion, he's tossing his beer and walking up to you, as if gearing up to say something. 

Someone sits into the seat besides you: tall and handsome, but definitely not Miguel. It's Jun, who smells like fresh flowers and cut grass, nudging your side. 

"You're good at that," He says, with a little smile. 

"Good at what?" You say, confused. 

"That kiss." He seems a little bashful, probably sobering up. "It was… good. "

"Not…" You're distracted, eyes flicking over to find Miguel. He's gone. "Not my best work, I think."

He stretches an arm around the back of the sofa, caging you in a little closer, and all you can do is blink up at him. 

"....you want to try again?" 

He's handsome. He's flirting . And he's present; able to give you clear signs that he wants you. It's more than a certain someone can provide, and you're left with a deep-seated need that no-one else seems to be able to fulfill. Four words ring out in your head, clanging around like pinball. You. Might. Get. Laid. 

It's enough to have you leaning up against Jun, a hand tracing circles in his thigh and fluttering your lashes as best you can. Hopefully it's a look that's says seductive, and not pink-eye. This far into the night, you don't quite have the energy to care. 

Heavy petting and drunk giggling; you spend God knows how long in that little room, whispering stupid shit to each other. You introduce yourself, and so does he. A brief overview of your life; and you find yourself desperately trying to skip the small talk. Jun works with computers. You're a student. Jun is very good with his hands. You're a visual learner. Everything seems to fall into place. 

Soon enough, you're swapping numbers and leading him out the door to somewhere more private . His apartment ; you find yourself hoping, as you make your way downstairs. 

He's draping a jacket on your shoulders, and you wade through the crowd. The lights are spinning a little less, you find, holding onto Jun's palm. In that great big room; people packed in like black and white sardines; all you're looking for is something to tether yourself to – or someone. Relationships, you've learnt, were overrated. You're young, and single, and gorgeous ; able to bag whoever you want. And what do you want? A hookup, clearly; something simple and uncomplicated, without the mess of feelings to untangle yourself from in the morning. 

There's a commotion from a corner of the room, and Jun pulls you back; craning his head to see. A jumble of people, crowded around the epicentre. He nods towards the bustle. 

"Isn't that Miguel?" He shouts over the bass, and your eyes widen.

You push past, trying to get a better look. Flashing lights, pumping music. In the red and blue and black, he's there ; hand wiping a bloodied nose. He's saying something; and a couple of guys surround Miguel, giving rough shoves and shouting something you can't hear. Someone throws a punch and he takes it, barely shifting at the continuous blows. 

It's a sobering sight, and you're worried; looking left and right at the onslaught of bystanders.

"Why isn't he fighting back ?" You say, barely audible. No-one's doing anything but watching; one or two even pulling their phones out to record. The sight makes you sick, and you're shouting his name, trying to get closer. Like a gunshot, sudden and sharp and cutting through the noise, he locks eyes with you. His eyes dark, with that same look he gave you not too long ago. 

Another cruel kick, and he's down on one knee, clutching at his stomach. You notice the broken glass, the blood in his shirt. He's goading them, and still , he refuses to fight back. 250 pounds soaking wet and at least 6"5; he's a fucking killer – and everyone knows it. Why won't he fight back?

There's a pounding at your skull, and something deep and dark and complicated that twists around your insides, threatening to rise up – and then.. and then… 

The lights are turned on, and the music stops. Lyla's at the stairs shouting obscenities; telling everyone to get the fuck out, or I'm calling the cops. 

People disperse out the doors, but only a few rush towards Miguel. You do, of course, and then Jess is by his side to help him up. He must look worse than he feels because despite the bruising and pouring blood; he pinches the bridge of his nose like he always does, as if it's just a headache. He's laughing ; the smug bastard; incisors sharp and dangerous and flashing pearly white. Your heart's still racing; betraying complicated feelings. As the last dregs drip out of Lyla's apartment, you're all left to deal with the aftermath. 

Jess looks shaken, Lyla's sobering up; and you're holding Miguel's hand, elbow deep in the oil spill. 

_

_

_

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook @sonderspider @spear-bitch @cryingintheclubdhmu @mageneire @notdyl4n @slezhara @funkyfoxx0 @smol-beb @iceclaw101 @lixhizy @errorundyne-exe @707xn @beantokki@twentysomethingwereyote

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #rigor mortis 😼 #kat_writes😼 #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o'hara smut #atsv miguel #miguel x reader

[charlotteking23]

Hi! I really enjoy your stories! I was wondering if you could write a batfam x batmom reader story about the boys (not including bruce) getting magically age reversed (i.e. dick becomes damian's age, damian becomes Dick's age, and Jason and Tim swap ages) and the 4 of them getting into shenanigans and chaos. And Batmom teasing and coddling them.

This sounds amazing, and sorry it took so long to post but I was writing it and my computer started resetting and it did not save this draft so I had to start over.

WHAT HAPPENED!!!

Bruce decided to take his kids to the Justice League hall, where he was showing them the Machine Hall which was VERY DANGEROUS. During the middle of the tour, there was an emergency alert, deciding to leave his kids in said dangerous room but why not.

"Jason, don't touch that Dad said it's dangerous", said Dick was already tired of Jason's shenanigans, and playing pranks on everyone. "Quit being such a buzzkill, and have fun no adults are around", Jason said in a playful tone. Jason was very unserious sometimes but when he's mad he will kill you. "You know Jason, you don't act very mature for an Adult and BTW there are adults around you and Dick", Tim was the smart one always pointing out his brother's mistakes in a not-so-kind way. Damian just stood there glaring at his brother fighting like little children.

"Oh what, touching a machine is going to get us killed", said Jason. "I hope it kills you first", Damian said. But It was too late for Jason had touched the machine despite Dick's warning.

Suddenly a bright light blinded the boys. AHHHHHH, screamed the boys, The bright light dimmed down and the boys saw each other but of different ages. Dick and Damian's ages were switched so Dick was 12 and Damian was 25. So was Jason and Tim, Jason was 17 and Tim was 23.

The boys were freaking out, trying hard to comprehend the situation. Damian started to immediately blame Jason for this while Dick was trying to calm himself down from having a panic attack. Lastly, Tim wasn't that affected and went looking at the machine Jason touched. "Hey guys look at this" Stated Tim when the boys looked at where Tim was pointing They realized... "Jason you Idiot you touch an age switch Machine", said Dick. "Aww shit, I didn't think this would happen," said Jason. "No fucking duh Jason, if you knew this would not have happened," Damian said while hitting Jason on the back of his head.

Bruce later found out with a panic attack and was scared of how he would tell his wife this happened under his care. But he also grounded Jason for 1 month again.

Timeskip to the manor

hey kids..... was the first thing Batmom had said before seeing her kids not looking like her kids. WHAT HAPPENED? Her Dick looks so young and cute and her Dami looks so tall and mature, Jason looks like a teenager and Tim seemed well older.

Mom we can explain, Dick said and explained the whole situation of what happened because of Jason's stupidity. Well, where was your father when this happened? What Tim had told her was not the answer she wanted. You left the kids alone in a dangerous machine room, Batmom continued scolding Bruce and her kids for this misfortune but internally screaming about how cute her kids looked.

No matter how hard she tried, she absolutely adored Dick and Jason, for it reminded her when they were young. And then she started crying with Tim and Damian feeling sad they had grown up so tall and handsome even though they were still the same by heart externally they looked different.

DICK

Being a 12-year-old was not as bad as he thought or so he thought. His mother became even more protective watching his every move and she refused to let him go whenever they hugged each other. Mom, you have to let me go, NO!, his mother shouted. But...Mom, I can't breathe. Then breathe later.

During this chaos, he found out he had to go to school, don't ask why. The whole day was torture I mean who wants to go to school after already graduating not Dick, to make matters worse he had to hang out with Jon. He was the only kid he knew and he didn't want to socialize with kids younger than him.

Curfew for patroling was a lot different since he was 12, he had to be home at 10:00 and he couldn't go anywhere without an escort because he was too "young" to drive.

And even the Titans made fun of his appearance, I mean their brave and powerful leader was a 12-year-old and a short one. Can you guys just help me! Dick shouted in anger. No, can do, not until we finished laughing at how short you are, kon said laughing at Dick who couldn't even reach the high cabinets.

JASON

Jason, honey what are you doing? you need to get up, his mother said in her usual calm voice. here he was lying in his bed with nothing to do, it was only 7:30 am. Why, I have nothing going on. Didn't I tell you, you're going to school to collect Tim's work so he can complete it at home, Batmom said while opening his blinds. But Mama...No buts get up and get ready for school. Jason was not happy and grumbled the whole time getting ready for school.

Jason was getting ready for patrol putting on his suit and wishing his Mama goodbye. Before she told him the horrible news, He had a curfew. His mother used the excuse that growing boys needed energy and he had school in the morning. Mom, please I don't need a curfew I am fine. No, and that's final Jason, his mother said in a stern voice.

good news He could drive and hang out unlike Dick who needed to be escorted when driving, Man did Jason crack up and tease Dick. HA, you can't drive what a loser, Dick was not happy and vowed he would get Jason back.

With Jason's curfews, he had to sneak out but lucky for him, he had done it so many times. The only problem is his mama was watching him like a hawk, but when everyone was asleep he decided to climb out of his window. Only to be stopped by the infamous Batmom and her sidekick Batman, grounding him for another month. Hey mom, how did you know I was sneaking out and where I would be? hmm, Dick told me. Damn it, Jason said cursing under his breath passing by a laughing Dick when coming upstairs towards his room.

TIM

was Tim happy? Yes, yes he was. Switching ages with Jason seemed bad but it turned out good when he found out he didn't have to go to school, he had the whole day to himself. While Jason had to go to his school and get all his assessments, It was good because it only took him an hour to complete the work Jason gave him.

First thing first, He explained to Stephanie what happened after she accidentally came to the manor expecting to see her boyfriend but instead saw a tall, handsome adult-like Tim. It took some time for her to cope with what happened but after she was furious with Jason. After he came back from school she hit him with her slipper right in the face. OWWWW what Hell Stephanie! why did you hurt me, Jason said in shock. You turned my boyfriend into well this, Stephanie said with her hands still griping the slipper. MOM, why are you standing there, do something! but to Jason's surprise, his mother did nothing and instead told him, he deserved it.

Tim had no curfew which meant rubbing it in his brother's face. HAHA, Damian and Tim both laughed at Dick and Jason going home from patrols while they get to stay. Shut up, both of them grumbled not liking the feeling of being teased. Since Tim was legally an adult, why not have alcohol, after one glass of wine he got drunk. HEy GUyS, LoOK at ME I aM a BAnANa, Then proceeded to start crying when Titanic came on, NOOOOO, HOw COuLd JAcK DIe!!! while the whole Bat-family saw this, well now we know he has no alcohol tolerance said Dick, with Jason and his mother laughing their asses off. Damian looked at his father to say something only for him to be astonished, trying to find the proper words only for nothing to come out. And Alfred gets Tim some tissues and water.

DAMIAN

Damian hated everything and everyone except for his mother of course. He Knew from the beginning this was bad and turns out he was right it was chaos.

Damian didn't do anything different except now he can drive legally, he could drive before but wasn't allowed for you know only being 12. He used this opportunity to get away from his crazy family.

Damian still hang out with Jon when he was out of school and gossiped about Dick and how he was at school, it was hilarious. Though Dick was not happy about it.

Unlike Tim, Damian had a high alcohol tolerance. Dami, you are surprisingly good at drinking and not getting drunk easily, have you drunk before? No, Ummi..... but could not continue, how could he lie to his Ummi so he told the truth. Yes, Ummi I already had my first drink. WAIT, WITH WHO? said Batmom in a shout, ready to throw someone out the window. With Dad, and that was not the answer she was looking for. BRUCEEEEE!!!!, screamed Batmom. Yes honey, Bruce said panting. Did you take Damian to have his first drink? Umm oh no is that the Joker breaking into the bank again. Oh No better stop him bye, and with that, he left like he was Flash already out the door. And to say the least, Batmom was not happy.

Time skip after 3 days

Some random mad scientist Bruce found on the black market reversed the kid's ages. Dick was 25, Jason was 23, Tim was 17 and Damian was 12.

Everything was back to normal, SIKE. Batmom punished everyone in the manor except for Alfred of course for all the things they did when reversed. Bruce was grounded and sleeping on the couch leaving the kids alone in a Dangerous machine room and keeping the fact that Damian had his first drink.

Batmom was so happy but still sad. Of course, she's happy her kids are back to normal but her two eldest had to leave to go back to their house, it was heartbreaking. So to make their mom feel better they did Family Game Night 😉.

#batfam x reader #bruce wayne x reader #batmom #batman #batfam x batmom #batmom imagine #batmom imagines #batmom!reader #bruce wayne #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #damian wayne #damian al ghul #alfred pennyworth

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Ok so Harry has a tendency to blatantly state out loud just how much the Dursleys don't give two shits about him (to the point that the people around him think it's just a typical teenager over exaggerating their complaints), but... Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

Also like, I know that the way the Dursleys treated him plays a huge part in the way Harry behaves and views himself- specifically him not thinking an adult is a reliable source of help and protection + his disastrouly low self esteem + how he doesn't respond to Snape's everything (which is the exact opposite of what James would have done) ... But what are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows? (Someone once mentioned that they hc that when feeling extreme emotions Harry tends to skip out on food and may have nearly wasted away in his second year had it not been for Ron and Hermione- which is also why they act so much like Harry's bodyguards)

Yep, Harry put no effort into hiding his abuse. He literally told anyone who would listen. By 5th year, he was making jokes about it to Ron and Hermione who seemed used to it.

Now, you've raised a few questions and I'll try to answer them to the best of my ability.

Does he realise that the way he is being treated by them is wrong?

I think he does. Most of his comments about his relatives' treatment definitely sound like Harry is very aware that he shouldn't be treated like that.

“I told you, I didn’t — but it’ll take too long to explain now — look, can you tell them at Hogwarts that the Dursleys have locked me up and won’t let me come back, and obviously I can’t magic myself out, because the Ministry’ll think that’s the second spell I’ve done in three days, so —” “Stop gibbering,” said Ron. “We’ve come to take you home with us.” “But you can’t magic me out either —” “We don’t need to,” said Ron, jerking his head toward the front seat and grinning. “You forget who I’ve got with me.” “Tie that around the bars,” said Fred, throwing the end of a rope to Harry. “If the Dursleys wake up, I’m dead,” said Harry as he tied the rope tightly around a bar and Fred revved up the car. “Don’t worry,” said Fred, “and stand back.”

(COS, page 31)

“It was cloudy, Mum!” said Fred. “You keep your mouth closed while you’re eating!” Mrs. Weasley snapped. “They were starving him, Mum!” said George. “And you!” said Mrs. Weasley, but it was with a slightly softened expression that she started cutting Harry bread and buttering it for him.

(COS, page 39)

But Harry wasn’t going to stand for this. Gone were the days when he had been forced to take every single one of the Dursleys’ stupid rules.

(GOF, page 33)

“Excellent,” said Lupin, looking up as Tonks and Harry entered. “We’ve got about a minute, I think. We should probably get out into the garden so we’re ready. Harry, I’ve left a letter telling your aunt and uncle not to worry —” “They won’t,” said Harry. “That you’re safe —” “That’ll just depress them.” “— and you’ll see them next summer.” “Do I have to?” Lupin smiled but made no answer.

(OOTP, page 54)

“You don’t seem to need many qualifications to liaise with Muggles. . . . All they want is an O.W.L. in Muggle Studies. . . . ‘Much more important is your enthusiasm, patience, and a good sense of fun!’ ” “You’d need more than a good sense of fun to liaise with my uncle,” said Harry darkly. “Good sense of when to duck, more like . . .”

(OOTP, page 657)

It seems Harry is very much aware that the way he is being treated is wrong. the younger Weasleys and Hermione are clearly aware of that too. Harry calls the Dursleys' rules stupid, he knows the Dursleys aren't treating him the way they should and that he doesn't have to take it. That he shouldn't have to take it.

Harry is kind of a best-case scenario of an abused kid and Dumbledore was so lucky Harry ended up functional enough for his plans. It could've so easily gone down differently.

Honestly, I'm enraged on Harry's behalf at how Arthur, Molly, and Lupin (and every other adult) just completely ignore his mistreatment. He really does just state plainly what's going on and has Ron, Fred, George, and Hermione backing up everything he says.

What are the other ways in which he got affected and it shows?

I do like when Harry's approach to food is affected by the Dursleys starving him, that being said, there isn't really any book evidence for it. It's an interesting headcanon to explore though. His low self-esteem, willingness to endanger himself, and his thinking that adults be counted on are definitely effects seen in the books. As for other things we do see in the books:

1. Harry is actually really quiet. He doesn't speak as much as Ron and Hermione and he's pretty awkward with social interaction. He mimics Ron in many ways since he never had any friends before him.

His approach to studying is one of the ways he mimics Ron socially. Harry actually read their school books before 1st year, he found Hedwig's name in a History of Magic. And he planned to study at the beginning of Philosopher's Stone. Then he meets Ron and realizes no one in Gryffindor except Hermione actually studies, and she is hated for it. So he didn't bother studying either, even though he planned to because he wanted to fit in.

2. Harry isn't great at emotional regulation, specifically anger. Harry is a pretty angry character and throughout the books, he actually has moments when he completely loses himself to a sense of anger.

A boiling hate erupted in Harry’s chest, leaving no place for fear. For the first time in his life, he wanted his wand back in his hand, not to defend himself, but to attack . . . to kill.

(POA, page 339)

“Madame Maxime!” said Fleur at once, striding over to her headmistress. “Zey are saying zat zis little boy is to compete also!” Somewhere under Harry’s numb disbelief he felt a ripple of anger. Little boy?

(GOF, page 275)

Harry sat there staring at Snape as the lesson began, picturing horrific things happening to him. . . . If only he knew how to do the Cruciatus Curse . . . he’d have Snape flat on his back like that spider, jerking and twitching. . . .

(GOF, page 300)

If Dudley’s friends saw him sitting here, they would be sure to make a beeline for him, and what would Dudley do then? He wouldn’t want to lose face in front of the gang, but he’d be terrified of provoking Harry. . . . It would be really fun to watch Dudley’s dilemma; to taunt him, watch him, with him powerless to respond . . . and if any of the others tried hitting Harry, Harry was ready — he had his wand . . . let them try . . . He’d love to vent some of his frustration on the boys who had once made his life hell —

(OOTP, page 11)

He does calm down the older he gets. But he definitely has a lot of anger in him.

3. Harry, in general, has a disrespect for authority. I assume this is an extension of his distrust of adults, in that no teacher or nurse ever helped him. Harry is so anti-authority and anti-orders, that he can resist the Imperius Curse decently from the first try.

Harry just doesn't do orders or authority. Actually in the earlier books, and even in books 6 and 7, Harry has his doubts about Dumbledore. He repeatedly tells people he's Dumbledore's man, but in his head, he has doubts. Like he has for any other adult with authority over him.

“Dumbledore’s been driven out of this castle by the mere memory of me!” he hissed. “He’s not as gone as you might think!” Harry retorted. He was speaking at random, wanting to scare Riddle, wishing rather than believing it to be true —

(COS, page 282)

“Because the Ministry of Magic’s still after me, and Voldemort will know all about me being an Animagus by now, Wormtail will have told him, so my big disguise is useless. There’s not much I can do for the Order of the Phoenix . . . or so Dumbledore feels.” There was something about the slightly flattened tone of voice in which Sirius uttered Dumbledore’s name that told Harry that Sirius was not very happy with the headmaster either. Harry felt a sudden upsurge of affection for his godfather.

(OOTP, pages 82-83)

He's very distrusting of adults and authority, but also his peers. He doesn't tell Ron and Hermione everything in the earlier books because he is very slow to trust. Which, makes sense for someone who grew up like he did.

4. His occasional impulsiveness is an extension of his issues with emotional regulation, I think.

5. I think Harry's cunning Slytherin streak is a result of his abuse. The Dursleys' mistreatment taught him to sneak around, to lie, to be clever. It taught him to keep a blank face when being yelled at because if he reacted it'll make it worse.

He learned how to insult the Dursleys in ways that go over Dudley's head. His little way to rebel.

6. His response to pain as well. We see it with Umbridge and the blood quill for example:

He let out a gasp of pain. The words had appeared on the parchment in what appeared to be shining red ink. At the same time, the words had appeared on the back of Harry’s right hand, cut into his skin as though traced there by a scalpel — yet even as he stared at the shining cut, the skin healed over again, leaving the place where it had been slightly redder than before but quite smooth. Harry looked around at Umbridge. She was watching him, her wide, toadlike mouth stretched in a smile. “Yes?” “Nothing,” said Harry quietly. He looked back at the parchment, placed the quill upon it once more, wrote I must not tell lies, and felt the searing pain on the back of his hand for a second time

(OOTP, page 267)

Harry can hide his pain and not react to it, and he does it well. He learned from the Dursleys that she wants to see his pain, and he isn't going to give her what she wants. Instead, he grits his teeth through it and doesn't react externally.

Even later in the book when Umbridge threatens with the Crociatus Curse, Harry just braces himself for it, not planning to break (in later books too, Harry is very willing to get hurt and just deal with it). He is willing to take torture without reacting, and I think this is something he got from the Dursleys.

These are the some other things that came to mind regarding your question. There are probably more that I can't think of now that I might add later. Harry is who he is in part because of his nightmare of a childhood. So many facets of his personality just link back to it.

#harry potter #hp #asks #harry james potter #harry potter analysis

[runninriot]

written for the @steddiesongfics may prompt

(David Bowie - Absolute Beginners, 1986)

wc: 1986 | rated: t | tags: Steddie in love, newly established relationship, fluff, background characters, Good Uncle Wayne Munson | also on ao3

As long as we’re together, the rest can go to hell

Waking up in Eddie’s arms for the first time feels unreal. Like maybe he’s not really awake after all. Maybe Steve’s still stuck in a beautiful dream and the sound of the other man’s peaceful breathing is just a fragment of his imagination. But he can feel Eddie’s chest rise and fall beneath his head, can feel the comfortable weight of Eddie’s arm on his back, the soothing warmth of his skin.

Maybe it is real.

Maybe they actually, finally got their shit together – as Robin would say.

    God, Robin would be so smug if she could see him right now, nuzzling Eddie’s skin, sinking deeper into the sleeping man’s arms.

She’d known there was something going on, told him so but never pushed. Even before that night Eddie came out to them a few months back. Where Robin told him her secret, too, and Steve didn’t even know he had one of his own to share.

Before Steve realised what that funny feeling was. What it meant to have a riot of butterfly wings create a storm in his stomach, to have his heartbeat set the rhythm to a song he’s never heard before.

Man, she will be so proud of herself when- if they tell her.

They will tell her, right?

They’ll them all – Robin, Nance, the kids...

Dustin.

    Oh God, what will Dustin say if they tell him that they’re-

Together?

Are they together?

Is this- Is this what they are?

It must be, right?

Eddie told him he loves him. Kept repeating the words over and over again between kisses. Said it so many times, Steve had no reason to believe it wasn’t true.

It must be true because Steve wants it to be true.

Eddie is-

This isn’t just a stupid crush, some made-believe infatuation with his high school sweetheart. Steve isn’t a stupidly naive teenager anymore. He knows the difference between simply searching for affection and truly wanting to be with someone.

He is in love with Eddie. That’s a fact. Unshakeable like the fact that water is wet, the sun is hot, and the moon is 238.700 miles away from earth (yes, he does listen to Dustin ramble about his stupid nerd interests sometimes, thank you very much).

He’s in love and although this is all very scary and new, he wants their friends to know about them. Wants them to be happy for them.

But what if they’re not?

What if the fact that he’s in love with another man gives Mike one more reason to hate him? What if Lucas refuses to let Steve coach him because of it? What if it doesn’t work out and Dustin has to choose between him and Eddie? What if-

   “I can hear you think.”

Steve startles when Eddie tightens his arms around him, pressing a quick kiss to the top of his head. And when he looks up at Eddie, Steve finds two sleepy eyes blinking back at him.

   “Morning, baby,” Eddie says through a smile and-

Steve’s heart immediately does that thing again and there’s this familiar feeling in his gut, and Eddie looks so soft in the warm morning light that Steve just can’t not kiss him.

   “Morning,” Steve finally answers when they part – Eddie’s hand still holding his face, beautiful eyes looking right into his soul, and Steve feels like flying.

   “Hm, so that’s not what it’s about, huh?”

Steve’s confused, doesn’t know what Eddie is talking about and it must show on his face because Eddie chuckles before he continues.

   “For a moment I was scared you’ve gotten all nervous and fidgety because you were- I don’t know. That maybe you had doubts. About this?” He moves his free hand between the two of them, pointing at himself and back at Steve.

   “But I guess you kissing me despite my morning breath must mean you-“

Steve shuts him up with another press of lips, morning breath be damned. He won’t give Eddie any reason to even think for another second that he doesn’t want this. Because he does. He wants this, them, together. Probably more than he’s ever wanted anything in his life.

He shakes his head, doesn’t know how to express all those things that are rattling his mind. How to tell Eddie what goes on in his head without stumbling over the words, without twisting his tongue, without making a fool of himself because-

They’ve only just woken up and it’s the first time they’re in bed together and instead of just enjoying the moment, instead of being in the here and now, Steve is already like, 238.700 steps ahead.

   “Talk to me, Stevie. Tell me what’s going on in that pretty head of yours.”

Steve slowly relaxes into the pleasant feeling of Eddie’s fingers gently scraping along the back of his neck like he’s trying to coax the words out of him, trying to help slow down his racing thoughts. And somehow, it works.

   “I was just-“ Steve takes a deep, grounding breath, “I was just wondering if we should tell the others. About us. A-about us being... boyfriends?”

Steve feels heat spreading in his face, feels the blush creep from his cheeks to his ears.

He didn’t mean to make it sound like a question but they haven’t really defined what they are, yet. They’ve been way too busy making out, kissing, touching – God, how could he not have been completely distracted by the way Eddie kissed him. The way he painted his neck in love-coloured bruises. How he worshipped Steve’s whole body with his lips like he was something special, something worth taking his time with.

And oh, his time he took, that teasing bastard. Made it his mission to kiss every goddamn mole and freckle on Steve’s body. Started counting them with his lips, his tongue, tracing his fingers over every inch of his exposed skin. Kissed him where no one had ever kissed him before, his touch so careful and gentle it only made Steve crazy for more, more, more.

By the time Eddie finally put his mouth on him, Steve was already so far gone that it took not even 30 seconds for him to lose it. But then Eddie didn’t give him a chance to feel embarrassed about it, just kept kissing him, touching him, showering him in sweet little nothings that meant everything to Steve.

   “Steve? You with me?”

    Hm? Oh.

   “S-sorry. What did you say?” Steve smiles apologetically, relieved when Eddie chuckles lightly.

   “I said. Yes, boyfriends. If you want that? And yes to telling people. God, I can’t wait to see Dustin’s stupid little face when he hears that I, Eddie Munson, get to date the hottest guy in Hawkins. Hell, the hottest guy in the entire fucking world!”

Eddie balls his fist and punches the air like he’s just won a competition, and the excitement in his voice is infectious, startles a loud and very unsexy snort out of Steve.

   “Take that, Dustin! So much for teasing me for my lack of success in the dating department. Ha! Oh, but Mike will be devastated. Everyone knows he’s got the biggest crush on you.”

   “What?! Shut up, he does not!” Steve is screeching now, tears in his eyes from laughing so hard.

   “You think I’m lying? Ask Lucas! He was the one that told me. Said he doesn’t quite get it but Lucas only has eyes for Max so, of course he doesn’t.”

   “Eddie, stop! I don’t believe it. Mike hates me! Sometimes I could swear he’s doing his best to pretend I don’t even exist.”

   “Tell yourself whatever makes you feel good, baby,” Eddie winks, smiles so bright it’s like he’s the sun himself. Bright like the sun and just as hot.

(How hot is the sun? Dustin will know, he’ll ask him next time he sees him.)

   “Robin will be a tough one, though.”

   “Huh? Robin? She’s literally one of us, Eds. Why should she of all people have any problem with us being together?”

Eddie must sense his concern, because he glides his thumb over Steve’s furrowed brows to smooth out the worry lines, kisses him on the forehead like that’s gonna stop his mind from reeling.

Weirdly enough, it does.

   “Well, duh! She’ll be so happy for you. It’s me I’m worried about.”

Eddie winks at him and that’s when Steve finally catches on. He huffs out a laugh, rolls his eyes in fake-annoyance, can’t not smile when Eddie offers him the saddest, most convincing puppy eyes he’s ever seen.

   “She’s going to kill me if I ever so much as make you mad or, god forbid, sad for whatever reason.”

   “Oh that’s easy to avoid. Just never make me mad or sad and you’ll be fine,” Steve mocks him, knows deep down Eddie would never anyway.

   “What about-“ Steve realises he hasn’t even thought about that before.

They’re at the trailer. Steve heard Wayne come home from his night shift a while ago, knows the man’s still awake, considering the noise coming from the outside Eddie’s bedroom.

   “Do you want to tell Wayne? It’s okay if not. We don’t- We can just pretend nothing has changed. I don’t want him to get mad. Or, or worse.”

Now it’s Eddie’s turn to look worried and Steve gets it. He couldn’t even think about telling his own parents. His father would- No, he’ll just have to keep this from them. Not like they ever really care for what goes on in his life anyway.

   “Come on.”

    What?

Eddie throws back the blanket they shared, leaving them both naked and exposed to the light of the day, the reality of the night before hitting them both with a rush of childish embarrassment, sending a deep blush into both their faces, both not used to being so vulnerably bare in front of each other.

But Eddie seems to regain his composure quickly, untangles from Steve’s arms and jumps out of the bed.

He grabs two pairs of boxers and sweatpants and shirts from his dresser, tossing half of them at Steve who’s still too stunned to speak.

   “Eddie, what-”

   “Hurry up, sweety! I smell coffee.”

Steve follows Eddie, nervously fussing with his hair in a weak attempt to make himself more presentable, less... ‘spent the night making out with your nephew’, hiding behind Eddie when Wayne catches sight of them.

   “Morning boys. Coffee?” The man grumbles, not even batting an eye when Eddie abruptly turns, grabs Steve by the face, and plants a kiss right on his mouth.

   “Yes, please. Me and my boyfriend would love a nice cup of coffee. Don’t we, Stevie?”

Eddie beams at him, a teeth-flashing grin on his face, and Steve wants to kill him. Wants to kiss him even more. Doesn’t know what to say, what to do. Just stands there, frozen in shock, dumbly nodding to answer the question he only vaguely remembers has been asked.

   “I see.” Wayne stands up from the armchair he was sitting in, walks over to them, blank expression on his face.

He exhales deeply and Steve holds his breath, not ready for whatever comes next.

   “Took you long enough to figure it out.”

Eddie shoots his uncle a look, rolls his eyes, scoffs – and Steve feels the weight of a thousand worlds fall off his shoulders.

(How much does one earth weigh? He’ll ask Dustin. Maybe he-)

   “You better treat him right, son. You do not wanna get in trouble with me for hurting him, you hear me?”

Steve’s mouth falls open in disbelief when he realises those words are directed at Eddie and not at him.

That’s what finally cuts the tension. Steve starts laughing, loud and whole-heartedly, feels lighter, better than ever before.

He kisses Eddie again, because he can. They’re in love, and that’s okay.

And as long as they’re together, the rest can go to hell.

#steddiesongfics #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fluff #steddie fic

[spacerockfloater]

I’m going to preface this post by saying I don’t give a flying fuck about the hate I’m going to receive for the opinion I will be sharing and I won’t bother replying to any comments attacking me for it.

I fucking LOVE that Aemond killed Luke and I wish it wasn’t accidental. I wish Luke’s death was full on intentional, lol.

As a victim of bullying, I’ve been in situations where I have had to fend off 20+ kids as a kid myself. I’ve been verbally, physically, emotionally and psychologically assaulted as a child by other children, simply because I wanted, strived for and had good grades in school, actions that did not affect any of my classmates in the slightest. Therefore, I absolutely sympathise with Aemond, whose lack of dragon and later on his acquisition of one hurt no one (dragons belong to no one, you snooze you lose), yet he still got ridiculed and attacked for it. Yes, Aegon was also a bully and I hate him for it, but ultimately he grows out of it and supports his family, unlike the Strong bastards who remain bullies and assaulters. Oh, and Aemond tried to hit Jace with a rock because he attacked him first. Accusing him for standing up for himself is victim blaming. People who defend the Strong boys are bullies and that’s final.

No, I don’t give a rat’s ass that his attackers were children. Aemond was a child, too, and they ganked him 4v1. It’s crazy how some of y’all support physically attacking someone because you don’t agree with them. It was satisfying to see him kick their teeth in. Aemond and Luke are only 2 years apart, even if the actors’ appearances suggest otherwise. Your age does not excuse you being a fucking piece of shit. Children and teenagers appear on the news daily as rapists, killers, assaulters and all kind of criminals. That’s the reason juvie exists. Children should face the consequences of their actions.

“Are you excusing child murder?” if it is by the hand of the child they unapologetically disabled, fuck yeah. Besides, at the end of the day, Aemond dies, too, so you could say justice is served.

Still, I would have given the Strong boy the benefit of the doubt if it weren’t for this scene:

Lucerys is laughing at Aemond.

He is looking him in the eye and he is laughing at him. It’s been 6 fucking years. Lucerys is 17 (confirmed by the writers) and he feels no remorse for what he did. He was not punished for his action, so he has learned nothing.

He feels safe to mock Aemond, in the comfort and safety of his grandfather’s house, where his guard and stepdad can stop Aemond, whom he cannot beat on his own, from bashing his head against the wall. He feels safe to attack Aemond when he calls him Strong, knowing that other people will finish the fight he started but can’t win.

But what happens when no one is around to protect him from the consequences of his own actions? He shits himself. His face falls, he stumbles backwards and does not object to Aemond calling him Strong.

Not laughing now, huh, you little shit stain?

#hotd #hotd critical #pro team green #anti targ stans #anti team black #team green #team black #lucerys targaryen #prince lucerys #lucerys strong #lucerys velaryon #anti lucerys velaryon #pro aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen #prince aemond #anti rhaenyra targaryen #rhaenyra targaryen #pro alicent hightower #alicent hightower #anti daemon targaryen #anti targ restoration #anti targaryen #anti bullying #asoiaf #asoif/got #house targaryen #house hightower

[paymechildsupport]

I should have really been in bed five hours ago, but these leaks make me wanna commit heinous acts and I just gotta do something about this Sukuna pic cuz erm… just :3

He’s just so….. <3

EHEHEHHEHEHEHEH I don’t know what it is but the idea of having such a powerful, destructive man just down at my feet is so intoxicating jsjshdbdbdb

Just imagine his humongous form in your sheets in the latest hours of midnight— just an amalgamation of limbs on your bedspread

Drowsy and drunk off sleepiness, fighting off exhaustion in that soft cushiony state between consciousness with his big arms swallowing your much tinier body up, head on your chest

You’d absentmindedly run your fingers through his wolf hair, nails scraping his scalp in such a way to elicit tiny sounds of contentment

He in no way would be silent: bro will be sighing and huffing and even just purring occasionally,- exactly like an old cat or dog. You’d feel every noise vibrate, bouncing around in his large chest, pressed against your torso

The second you fall asleep and cease to shower him in affection he’d immediately get incredibly offended

He’d take it personally, and man’s can hold a NASTY GRUDGE (look what he’s doing to poor Yuji 😭)

He’d let out a rather audible, “hmph”, and make a show of pulling himself off of you, making sure he woke you up

“How dare you, pathetic mortal”

HE’D SULK

He’d be both very bluntly aggressive but also passive aggressive in every. Single. Thing.

He is entitled to your time, your attention, your affection, your every waking thought should be dedicated to him and him alone. He should be first priority over everything

JAJSJDBBDBS Y’know how in like superhero movies the villain sometimes has this really adorable cliché where they are this absolutely brutal, horrible monster whose committed numerous misdeeds but have a wife / spouse they treasure above all else? Like, they’ll be in the middle of explaining their plans of world domination when their wife all of a sudden calls out that dinner’s ready, — and then all of a sudden the villain is this esteemed gentleman who’s just really really excited to have some lasagna his darling wife made for dinner?? They really just wanna keep their spouse outta all the crime and such cuz they know they hate it and always get scolded for it.

yeah, that’s the only way I’ve been coping for these past leaks 🥶

Sukuna would be in the middle of nuking the map when all of a sudden you pull up

He’d be talking all high and mighty, saying how he’d obliterate and kill all of Yuji’s loved ones when suddenly he hears his name get called out and he’d just FREEZE.

“Quick, act like I didn’t just murder your closest kin like three minutes ago.”

”what? Why??”

“Because my spouse is here and they’ll actually skin me alive if they see me like this 😡—- hey honey ☺️ how’s it going..?”

Like tensing up, eyes bulging, lip quivering, sweating BULLETS, the most scared anyone’s ever seen him. Immediately dropping everything, disregarding the accumulating mass of cursed energy he’d been saving up for the past twenty minutes, to turn around and give you his best, most charming smile

You’d just walk up to him and like, grab him by the ear, yanking him down to your level to curse the ever living daylights outta him

“Stop going out and bullying teenagers 🤬 you miserable old man I swear—“

And he’d just stand there and TAKE IT. You’d scold him exactly like a disappointed mother, personally escorting him off the battlefield and profusely apologizing to Yuji for your husband’s actions

He’d just be all sad, walking away and dragging his feet, moping, back hunched, hand holding yours 😭🤏 and leaving an incredibly confused Yuji

And then you adopt Yuji and Sukuna stops being a grumpy old man and my boy gets his happily ever after and we all hug it out :3

#I NEED HIM #i need him so bad #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen #jjk oneshot #sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna #sukuna ryomen #sukuna #sukuna x you #sukuna jjk #jjk fluff #sukuna fluff #jjk spoilers #This truly is my jujutsu Kaisen #he’s so silly #he’s so pretty

[brucewaynehater101]

Oh my god, I love that so much. Tim's heart beat was only for Kon, so when Kon went away so did his heart beat. It's still gone because Tim hasn't even come *close* to recovering from Kon and Bart and Steph's deaths, even if all three of them are back they still deeply effect him. Also Tim being the heart of the team so so <3 to me.

Tim 100% will use this incident against not just Bruce, but the entire family. Dick suggests he cuts back on the caffeine and Tim replies, "the only time I do is when I'm Relaxing on a trip and last time I went on a trip you nearly killed Ivy because you were to stressed to think straight." and when Jason comments he should take a rest, Tim says, "I only rest on trains but last time I got on one, you nearly made another duffel bag of heads."

Turning back time a bit though, can you imagine when they get to the train car that Tim is on, expecting it to be some grand show down with all of them in costume? And then they hear... music? coming from the train car that the tracker says Tim is in?? They all swing into the car while Tim's back is to them, yelling along to Shakira and when he turns around it's literally, "WHENEVER, WHEREVER, WE'RE MEANT TO- AAAAAAAAA" And he jumps a solid foot in the air while chucking his MP3 at the closest Bat, Bruce, and hitting them square in the forehead with it. Tim is death glaring them as he says, "what the fuck are you doing here, I'm on vacation. I'll be home tomorrow, what the *fuck* is so important that you tracked me down on my day off???"

Yes! Exactly. There's so much angst to be explored with Tim's missing heartbeat, how that reflects his current mindset/relationships with people, and how that affects Kon. I like to hc that Kon listens to various YJ members' heartbeats as a calming measure and reassurance. His inability to hear Tim's causes him stress and heartbreak (your choice on whether that's platonic or not).

Tim is a chaos gremlin who uses guilt tripping (in lighthearted measures) with a vicious lack of mercy. It only works half the time on his family members anyways and is a healthier form of airing out grievances (than trying to attack anyone).

Tim most definitely is swaying and dancing to the music when the Bats find him. He refuses to be embarrassed by this. If they want to make fun of him for dancing and singing alone on a train, they can suck it.

Tim: "What the fuck is so important that you tracked me down on my day off??? The world better be ending."

Bruce: "Tim... you weren't answering your phone and no one knew where you were."

Tim: "I'm on my vacation like always? You know this!"

Bruce: "No. No we didn't."

Tim: ".... Is this another case of me assuming you know about something that's been happening for years?"

Bruce: *nods with pursed lips*

Tim: *sighs heavily*

Jason: "Wait.... your vacation is riding cargo carts for days?"

Tim: *points a finger at Jason* "I don't want to hear judgment from you, Mr. Red Helmet."

Also, the reveal of them finding out why he developed this de-stress mechanism is going to be great. Just Tim refusing to make eye contact as he tries to nonchalantly explain being abandoned in another state/city and having to make his way home before he was even a teenager. Then he turned this very messed up form of neglect into a semi healthy form of decompression due to the same incident happening more than once to Tim.

The Bats obvious go fucking ballistic

#dc comics #tim drake #dc universe #jason todd #bruce wayne #thank you for the ask!!!! #dc au

[thegoldencontracts]

On The House!

Summary: Azul's always seemed to break his "no free lunch" rule with you. A free lunch here, tutoring there, and whatnot. But it's only after you two start dating that you realize why.

Notes: Jai if you see this TYYYY YOU ARE A GENIUSS RAGGHHH, also there's one brief innuendo of "punishment" by the reader bc I feel like teenagers would absolutely make innuendos - source: me and my friends, and also bc the reader's gotta annoy Azul somehow

Everyone knew that Azul Ashengrotto was notoriously stingy. He was a firm believer that if you wanted to cross a bridge, you had to pay the toll. He never gave anything for free.

Except with you. Azul tutored you quite a few times, and he'd even get you snacks while he was at it. Why? Was he trying to scam you?

As you chewed on a piece of the candy he'd given you, you couldn't help but ask.

"Hey, Azul," you said. "Can I ask why you're giving me all this free stuff?"

Azul's eyes widened a bit.

"It's of irrelevance," he said.

Weird. He didn't usually get defensive this quickly. Maybe he was just upset because you'd caught him trying to scam you?

"Is this some weird plan to sucker me into a contract?" You asked, eyes narrowed. "Because I'm not signing anything."

Azul seemed to get irritated at that, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"No, no, I assure you, that isn't the case," he said.

Why was he getting defensive like this? That wasn't usually how he reacted to your prodding. There was probably something you didn't know.

Scratch that, there was definitely something you didn't know.

Whatever. You'd just have to find out later, it seemed.

"Fine, fine," you said. "But-"

Azul rolled his eyes, and you couldn't help but feel a sense of awe that you got to see him so openly annoyed.

"I'm watching, Azul. You'd better not scan me, or else I'll punish you, okay?"

Azul groaned.

"What sort of phrasing is that?" He asked. "You aren't powerful enough to enforce anything upon me either way!"

"But it's funny!"

"Hmph, cretin."

And yet, you couldn't help but wonder, if Azul really thought you were a cretin, why did he give you so much free stuff?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Time passed, and things between you and Azul changed. You'd even begin dating. He still kept giving you free stuff though.

Why? How was it that he could call you an absolute cretin and then shove a bowl of soup cooked by him your way in the same breath?

But then, one day, you realized why he did it.

It was to show his affection.

In hindsight, it should've been obvious. Everyone had some form of expressing their care for others, right? And this was Azul's. It only made sense.

You were going to ask him about it. Mostly because his reaction would be fun.

"Hey, remember that time I asked you why you gave me free stuff so much?" You said one day while the two of you were cuddled together in his bed.

Azul just silently pulled back the hand you'd used for emphasis back to his head, shooting you a bleary glare.

"Mm," he said in what was probably an affirmative. You could never be too sure though. Not with a tired Azul. For all you knew, he could just be expressing his annoyance with the fact that you weren't giving him enough headpats.

"Well, I think you were always doing it to show your looooove."

That seemed to wake Azul up.

Hastily, he swatted away your hand - though you could tell he wanted it back right after, turning away from you with a huff.

"That's utterly preposterous!" He said, though his cheeks were flushed. "I certainly wasn't pining after you like some buffoon!"

He absolutely was. He showed you he loved you since way back then, while all his free tutoring sessions and carefully prepared meals.

"Are you embarrassed about it, Azul?" You said. "Don't me. I think it's cute, you know."

Azul scowled.

"You're a mongrel," he said, before standing up with a sigh. "I'll make you some food, perhaps the added energy will help restore your ordinary intellect."

That actually sounded like Azul was calling you smart and stupid at the same time. Bravo, Azul. Impressive.

Wait. He was doing it again!

"And you're making this because you looove me, right?" You said, batting your eyelashes.

"Think whatever you wish," he said. "But we ought to get back to bed once you finish your food."

He just wanted to cuddle, didn't he?

"Anything for you."

And as Azul asked you what you wanted for dinner, you could tell that he'd do anything for you as well.

#azul ashengrotto #twisted wonderland #azul ashengrotto x reader #azul x reader #twst #twst azul #twst x reader #azul ashengrotto x you #azul x you #twst fanfic #fluff #azul fluff #fanfiction

[firesnap]

Rambling about bad c!Crime takes in 2024.

I think the struggle with being a c!Crime fan during peak DSMP was having to deal with the people who would unironically use "vilbur" like it was a badge of honor and the ones who legitimately thought c!Tommy was 8-years-old at the beginning of L'Manberg.

Like, I don't need to rehash a lot of this. A hundred meta essays were about how Tommy was not responsible for Wilbur's mental health, that he was a front row audience member watching Wilbur's decline and begging people to intercede because he was a damn teenager with zero tools in his kit for "help my brother is frightening me and he's ten feet from me but I think I've lost him in this cave."

But you can still see people go "Ok Tommy helped make Wilbur worse."

No. Just no Tommy's worst behaviors didn't impact Wilbur because Wilbur was so far into his own spiral at that point that it just didn't even phase him if Tommy called him insane. You can't put that on Tommy. When Wilbur came back he even said he could recognize the man he was back then was frightening and beyond what Tommy should have had to see.

But, saying Wilbur acted on violent delusions on Tommy or emotionally abused him or isolated Tommy on purpose... Girl this isn't exile arc and you're not getting c!Crime.

Wilbur and Tommy at their best were moments were like... Tommy with a shield in front of Wilbur, Wilbur with a hand on Tommy's shoulder saying to be better than Wilbur ever was, Tommy and Wilbur running through a small nation and dancing on beaches and laughing at how fucking much the other one sucked with every bit of affection in the world tied behind those words. It was a loop of I'd die for you, I'd die for anything but especially you and Who the fuck ever asked you to die??

At their worst they were a negative feedback loop that fed each other. Tommy was possessive of Wilbur, from even the early L'Manberg days, to the point where Wilbur often neglected other relationships to give Tommy attention. He was angry at Wilbur for falling off the pedestal that Tommy put him on. Wilbur was just as dependent on Tommy being always behind him and took advantage of the fact that Tommy wouldn't leave. He dumped his own fears and paranoia and self-hatred at Tommy's feet and then assumed that this person younger than him could sort through it.

And if you can't handle hearing how they fed the worst parts of each other, then maybe you aren't really here for that dynamic. Maybe you've made something else up in your head that you like more. And that's fine, man. Do whatever the server is gone. Just don't act like your personal version is what canon gave us.

Also, something something it's totally fine to dislike Wilbur's finale btw, but as imperfect as the execution was, it was right on board with what they were telling us about c!Crime from right when Wilbur was revived to Wilbur telling Ranboo that, essentially, Tommy would never leave him and Wilbur knew that wasn't healthy. They needed to break the cycle to save themselves and whatever brotherhood was between them.

They were about acknowledging they were tied to each other in fucked up and unhealthy ways, but needing that sense of brother so much that they were both afraid to do anything about it.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Can we get a pining villain out in their civilian clothes when they bump into hero (also in civilian clothes) and recognizes them immediately, but hero doesn’t and starts friendly conversation while villain is both unsure of what to do and secretly crushing? Sorry if that’s an odd request ahhhh ^^;

Oh god.

“Jeez, I’m so sorry-” The hero picked up the books and shoved them back into the villain’s arms awkwardly. “I don’t know where my head is today, I didn’t…nevermind, the books aren’t dirty or anything? Library hates dog ears.”

The villain shook their head slowly. They hadn’t even checked.

“And you’re okay? Not hurt or anything? I didn’t hurt you, right?”

Again, the villain shook their head, even though their shoulder was pulsing in pain. The hero was quite strong. Stronger than they looked, definitely. It wasn’t like the villain had been obsessed with the idea of finding out their civilian persona.

They knew of other villains who dedicated their entire being to finding out absolute everything about their nemesis. But for the most time, the villain didn’t want to know anything about them.

They didn’t want to know what they did or whom they talked to. Or when they were visiting friends or lovers. When they went on dates or when they broke up with someone.

Because, ultimately, it wasn’t any of their business, right? And they weren’t on such a low level to force a foul gameplay onto them. Blackmailing them, kidnapping lovers…the villain didn’t like that.

However, now that they stood in front of the hero, they weren’t quite sure what to say nor what to do. They had recognised them immediately. Their widened eyes, their fingers. At first they hadn’t been sure but some scars gave the hero away.

They were obviously hiding them, pulling down sleeves and shifting a little — it was a habit the villain was used to too.

“I’m sorry again. I’m probably taking up a lot of your time already but do we know each other?” the hero asked suddenly. They tilted their head, just like last Wednesday when the villain had explained to them how to identify a fake bomb. The sunlight was hitting the hero’s eyes just right but this was probably some cruel joke from above.

The hero was one of those popular people probably. Popular at school, at work, in the neighbourhoods. Someone everyone loved, someone who was so sweet they were rotting teeth left and right.

Months ago, the villain had thought they were jealous of them but that was wrong. They were enchanted by them, wondering how a person who had gone through hell and back was still able to be kind.

“No…”

“Are you sure? You seem very familiar to me,” the hero said. They were curious, seemed intrigued by the villain. Their backstory wasn’t a secret. Everyone knew about the troubled childhood, the kidnapping and the trading. Being raised like cattle.

Everyone knew.

And the villain could relate. Opening up about it was difficult but they felt like the hero could understand, they could love them despite everything.

If the villain was even worthy of that kind of affection. They closed their eyes, trying to throw that thought into a bin.

“…I’m just a tourist,” the villain lied. Their neck was getting embarrassingly hot. Why was the hero staring at them like that? They’d never seen their expression be so soft, had never seen the little scar above their brow. Somehow, this felt like a prank.

“Hm, well, I’m really sorry for bothering you then.” The hero’s eyes fell down to the books and back up. A hint of a smile decorated their face and for a second, the hero just stood there in front of them with the busy sounds of the city passing by. “For how long are you staying?”

“…I am departing tomorrow.”

“Oh? Back home?”

“Yeah…” This was going terribly. The villain swallowed. They felt like a teenager again, too awkward to talk to their crush. In costume it was a little different. They could allow themselves to put on a show and pretend to be eccentric. But here they felt so…exposed.

“Pardon me, this is probably a little abrupt but…” Suddenly, the hero took a step forward. Their hand reached the villain’s wrist, soft fingers finding a scar a little too quickly. “…you’re really pretty.”

They looked up into the villain’s eyes.

“And by the way…the library doesn’t like it when tourists take books home either. Sending them back is such a hassle.” They tapped onto the copy on top, a volume of The Divine Comedy the villain had grabbed almost mindlessly. The hero took a step back, smiling. “See you soon, then.”

Oh god. They knew.

#Dante Dante Dante Dante #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request