#hurtnocomfort

[wolga43]

“why are you crying over a laptop screen?” because my favorite character just went through hell and the author tagged it 'hurt no comfort'. leave me alone to mourn.

see more....

[thenumberonewoldonshipper]

Dear Diary

trigger warning before you read this, large mentions of eating disorder, depression, and self-harm, read with caution.

---

                                  Dear Diary..                       16/7/75

There is something wrong with Wolf, but he will not talk to us or tell us what is wrong. He’s been meaner to all of us recently, isolating himself in his room more and more, sometimes he will stay in his room for such a long time and dad will have to drag him out by his shirt. That happened a couple of nights ago, Wolf had only been out of his room four or five times, all to use the bathroom, and he was refusing to eat anything. Dad went up there and tried to be nice about it, but Wolf started yelling things like, “I don’t feel good, just leave me alone!” and, “I’m not hungry, I’m fine!”, and more stuff I will not write down. Dad got really upset and broke down the door, not to hurt him or anything, he just dragged him to the dinner table. He still didn’t eat anything, after a while he just got up and threw it away before going back to his room. I know it is scaring our mom, since I heard her and dad fighting in the kitchen that night, whispering about getting him help by sending him away to a hospital. It is starting to scare me now, I’ve heard nothing but bad things about hospitals like those, I don’t want to lose Wolf, he's my best friend.. I tried talking to him today though, but he didn't talk much. I sat outside his door and talked about going back to  school and whatever I could think of. I left though, I could tell he didn’t want me to talk to him. I hope he starts getting better soon..

                                      Dear Diary..                           18/7/75

I heard Wolf crying last night, it wasn’t loud, it was noticeable though. I think I was the only one who heard it because my room is right next to his room. It went on for at least fifteen minutes before it stopped. I went out to check on him, but he was already walking out of his room. He stopped when he saw me, I saw him gripping his upper arm tightly, I think I saw blood coming from in between his fingers, it was too dark though. He had some sort of regret and sadness in his face. I went back into my room though, I didn’t say anything to him, I was too scared to. I listened though, I heard him go to the bathroom, close the door, and start wincing quietly. I think he did get hurt, I don’t know what could have hurt him in his room though, he's completely alone in there. I keep hearing mom crying too though, especially when Wolf doesn’t come down and eat. It's been like this for almost a month, just as long as Wolf has been like this. I thought about telling our parents about what I saw last night, but I decided not to, I think it would make Wolf feel worse than he already feels. I have no idea what caused Wolf to act like this, but I don’t think any of us do.. He was fine a few days before this started, then he just switched up, I don’t remember anything causing it. One day he is fine and then the next he is acting like this. Mom has been trying to talk to him through the door, sometimes she will try and go in, but it is always locked. I know it hurts her, because I always watch her expression fall when she realises it is locked. Though dad has been harsher to him recently, which causes so many arguments between them. Just this morning he started yelling at Wolf for not coming down for breakfast again, I don’t know why he would do that, it is not Wolf’s fault. Dad started saying Wolf wasn’t a man and that he was acting like a disappointment, he also said he wasn’t acting like the boy he’d raised him to be. I think that hurt Wolf very deeply, since Wolf started yelling and saying vulgar things to dad until dad just left. It made me sad for some reason, it made me sad to see Wolf act so out of character.

                                  Dear Diary..                       19/7/75

Wolf threw up last night after dinner, mom and dad didn’t hear it though, I think they were outside in the backyard. I went and checked on him when I first heard the gagging start, he would not let me in though. I knocked and tried talking to him through the door, even after he stopped. When Wolf opened the door I asked him what was wrong with him, but all he said was, “I’m sorry, Maria..”.  Before he gently pushed past me to go back to his room. I do not know why he threw up, I thought the dinner tasted fine, maybe he is sick or something. Wolf looked really tired though, I don’t know how to put it into words, but he looked like he’d been sleeping badly. He also was wearing the same hoodie he has been wearing for weeks now, and there is now a stain on the sleeve, but it was unnoticeable. I think I am going to tell mom and dad this time..

                                  Dear Diary..                       19/7/75

I just told mom and dad that Wolf threw up after dinner, I regret it though. Dad is currently yelling at Wolf through his door, so is mom.. Mom isn’t mad like dad though, she is just begging Wolf to talk to her and to come out of his room, but dad is mad at him for something. I don’t understand it, he keeps yelling about sending him to a hospital. Wolf is denying the help and denying being unwell, and mom is insisting depression. I don’t know what that word means, but I think Wolf does. He is denying it more and more, mom and dad are giving up though. I hope they will stop yelling at Wolf like this and try to be more gentle with him.

                                  Dear Diary..                       23/7/75

Something big happened today, something really bad with Wolf. Today was the second day of him not eating, at least to our knowledge. Dad went and yelled at him through the door again, yelling at him to eat or else his scholarship to college is at stake and he's not gonna make the hockey team if he doesn’t eat anything soon. I think I understand why dad is yelling now, I think it is the only way he can be concerned, by yelling. Anyway, Wolf said go away and I guess it made dad extra mad or extra concerned because he forced the door open like last time. When I heard it I went out and watched it, I don’t know why, maybe it was concern. He managed to drag Wolf in the hallway, and I noticed Wolf was wearing a different hoodie, a zip up one, but it was unzipped. Dad had a hold on Wolf’s right sleeve and when Wolf started resisting and tugging backwards his arm slipped out of the sleeve. He had a tank top underneath, and his upper arm was in full view for everyone, it all happened right in front of my doorway, where I was. I saw Wolf freeze up and dad flip around, I don’t remember dads facial expression, I was still looking at Wolf's upper arm. It had these cuts all over it, some deep, some not so deep, some old, and some new. Some of them were white lines, but a lot of them were various shades of red. Wolf started shaking slightly before anyone said anything though. Dad was still staring at Wolf’s arm by the time I looked at him, before dad grabbed Wolf’s upper arm and looked at it closer. Wolf was muttering excuses but dad started yelling about Wolf cutting himself. I saw Wolf tug out of his grip and start yelling back, angry and mean stuff, but I do not think he meant any of it. HIs voice was.. Shaking, that is the word for it. Mom came upstairs after dad started yelling, Wolf had already put his jacket back on and covered his upper arm with his hand. Dad told mom though, that Wolf was cutting himself. I think that means intentionally hurting yourself, I don’t know why Wolf would do something like that. Mom started crying and asking Wolf why over and over again, while dad kept yelling at him for being weak. I think this time it was more so anger rather than concern. Wolf wasn’t saying anything, but I saw he kept glancing at me, almost like he didn’t want me to see this or see what was happening. Wolf shoved past both of them and I think muttered, “Don’t do this in front of Maria, please..” before he walked downstairs. They followed him quickly, I just shut my door. They are all still downstairs, but I can’t hear them anymore. They are being too quiet, it is starting to freak me out. I can make out their voices, I can very slightly hear mom and dads voices, but I cannot make out what they are saying to Wolf, and I do not hear Wolf’s voice at all. I think they’re going to send Wolf away.

                                  Dear Diary..                       29/7/75

We just got home from dropping Wolf off at the hospital, it is very far away, I think almost two hours. Mom has been crying nonstop since we dropped him off, and dad has been awfully silent after too. They took him to the doctors a few days ago, I heard them talking about it when they got home and Wolf went back to his room. I sat on the stairs listening, they were talking about how the doctor said he has an eating disorder and depression. I’m not too sure what either of those words mean, but I think it is a bad thing to have. Mom kept talking about how he is too young for any of this, dad was agreeing. I guess that is why they took him to the hospital for a while. It feels empty in the house without him, and heavier I think. I think he is there for three or four months, at least, that is what I heard being told to mom and dad, I was too focused on Wolf. He looked bad, it was one of the first times I had actually seen him in a month I think, he still had a hoodie on, and his arms crossed, like he was trying to hide himself. Maybe he felt ashamed, I hope he didn’t, I do not think he can control it. I hugged him before we left, he hugged back and told me that he loves me and to not get into any kind of trouble. I think that is why mom was crying, because I noticed her tear up after that, she only started crying when we walked out. I hope Wolf will be better when he gets home, I miss my brother.

                                  Dear Diary..                      5/10/75

Wolf got home today, I do not think it helped him, at all. I mean, he seems better, he took off his jacket finally and started eating in front of us again, but something about him is different. He is quiet, he usually talks about hockey or practice or anything, but he is just silent. He hangs out with us, but he just won’t talk, he will just sit there, not saying anything unless spoken to directly. He goes back to school tomorrow, maybe that will make him talk to us. Mom and dad have not noticed, I do not think they have anyway. I think they are just happy he is home and eating. Maybe Wolf is just getting used to being back at home, maybe he’ll be ok soon.

[rays0ndetre]

making your two ocs date is all fun and games until you give one of them a terminal illness that slowly eats away at them over the course of the plot and the other has to pretend that they still have time left together

[wowtheuniverse]

got my first 15 likes on my first short drabble!!!!!!!!! I'm so glad people enjoyed my story, and now I present to you more angsttttt (tadaaaa)

I'm going to experiment on my writing in this sector(how you say it?), and then I'll try to write some fluff to balance all this pain.

I wrote this for Simon but I didn't specify so it can be any other character you want,

word count: 900 words

tw: I don't think there's any but tell me if there's need for it! Just the innocence of a little girl in a world full of shadows.

I Just Need My Other Shoe

 She is sitting on the floor when the knock comes, small legs folded awkwardly beneath her, one shoe already on and the other lying forgotten just out of reach. Her fingers are busy with the strap, clumsy but determined, repeating the same careful movements her father once showed her slow, patient, “like this love, not too tight.” She hums quietly to herself as she works, pausing every few seconds to check if it looks right, because he always notices when it doesn’t.

The sound reaches her, and everything in her stills for just a heartbeat.

Then her face lights up.

Not surprise. Not curiosity. Just knowing.

“That’s Daddy,” she says softly, almost to herself, like she’s reminding the room of something it should already understand. There is no doubt in her voice, no hesitation in the way she pushes herself up too quickly, leaving the second shoe behind without even noticing. The world, to her, is still a place where promises hold, where he said he’d come back means he will.

She runs, unsteady but fast, one shoe thudding softly against the floor while the other foot slips slightly with every step. Somewhere behind her, her mother says her name ,not loudly, but wrong, strained in a way that doesn’t reacher in time. She is already at the door, already reaching for it, already smiling.

“Youre late,” she says as she pulls it open, breathless, the words light and familiar, something she’s probably said before.

But the shape in the doorway doesn’t change into him.

It stays wrong.

Tall figures, still and quiet, their presence heavy in a way she doesn’t understand. The kind of stillness that carries meaning for adults, but to her, it is just… empty space where he should be.

Her smile lingers a moment longer than it should, caught halfway between expectation and confusion, like it hasn’t quite caught up yet. She leans forward instinctively, peeking around them, small body stretching as if she might find him just out of view.

he’s behind you?” she asks gently, not worried  just helping them fix the mistake.

No one answers.

Behind her, something breaks.

She doesn’t turn right away. She’s still looking, still searching the quiet street, still certain that if she just looks properly, she’ll see him walking up, maybe waving, maybe smiling like he always does when he’s late.

“He said he’d be back today” she adds, softer now as if the reminder matters. “Before dinner.”

The words hang there, fragile and true, with nowhere to land.

When her mother pulls her back, dropping to her knees and wrapping her arms around her too tightly, too suddenly, the girl stiffens in surprise before relaxing again, confused more than anything. She pats her clumsily, the way she’s seen it done before, small hand pressing against her shoulder in uneven comfort.

“It’s okay,” she murmurs, because she thinks that’s what she’s supposed to say, that’s what mum would tell her when she cried

But her mother is crying.

And that doesn’t fit.

Not with a knock at the door. Not with Daddy coming home.

Her thoughts begin to shift then, not breaking, just bending gently, trying to make space for something that doesn’t belong. Maybe he’s late. Maybe he took longer. Maybe-

She slips free after a moment, drawn back toward the open doorway like something unfinished is waiting there. The air outside is cool against her skin, and she steps onto the path without thinking, eyes searching again, more carefully this time, like she might have missed him before.

Then she notices her foot.

The missing shoe.

She looks down at it, small toes pressing against the cold ground, and something in her expression changes , not sadness, not yet, just quiet relization.

“Oh,” she says softly.

Of course.

That must be it.

Her fathers voice lives gently in her memory: both shoes, or you’ll be too slow.

Maybe he came and she wasn’t ready.

Maybe he looked, and she wasn’t standing properly.

Maybe he couldn’t see her.

The thought settles into her with simple, unquestioned logic,something she can hold onto, something that makes sense in a world that suddenly doesn’t.

She takes a small step forward anyway, lifting her hand in a careful wave toward the empty street, her voice carrying just enough to reach wherever she believes he might be.

“I’m here,” she calls, softer than before, like she doesn’t want to miss him by being too loud. “Daddy I’m here.”

The street doesn’t answer

The silence stretches.

But she doesn’t let it break her

Not yet.

After a moment, she turns back toward the house, calm in a way that feels too small for the grief around her, already fixing the problem in her mind.

“I forgot my other shoe,” she says quetly, almost apologetic like she’s the one who made the mistake.

She walks back inside, careful now, purposeful, her focus narrowing onto that single, solvable thing. She picks up the shoe, sitting down again, trying harder this time, fingers fumbling but determined, blinking a few times as if something in her chest feels strange but not enough to stop.

Because once she gets it right

once she’s ready

she can go back outside.

She can stand where he can see her.

[gothsatchel]

chronic pain for writers #4

this one's not one specific topic, but a collection of little things that may not deserve their own posts. If anyone would like me to expand on anything, please let me know!

refusal to take pain meds - it might seem like self-sabotage for a person with chronic pain to not take pain medication, but there's a certain level of pain where you hit a threshold. I used to take four ibuprofen pills and two acetaminophen pills as soon as I woke up every day, before breakfast or coffee or anything, and then continue to take more pills throughout the day as those wore off. I needed them to function. it made the chronic pain go away to an extent, but (unsurprisingly) it gave me gastrointestinal issues. at a certain point I decided I'd rather live in pain than risk organ damage. the recommended dosage didn't do much, and higher-potency prescription meds came with their own issues and stigma. I also used to take Vicodin, and then oxycontin, but I was able to give those up before I got to the point where I depended on them to a problematic degree (I'm not gonna lie, I did abuse the oxy a little). I'm at the point where I don't take anything unless I'm desperate, even though I have pain every day, because I don't want to put my overall health at risk (even though pain is part of my overall health. it's a vicious cycle.)

my pain might manifest in my mood before it does physically. I'm so used to waking up in pain that sometimes I don't notice it. this doesn't mean I'm sunshine and rainbows and pain-free when I wake up in the morning, it means I'm waking up exhausted and irritable whether I slept for 3 hours or 14 hours, but I don't recognize the cause right away. I'm used to how pain feels, so I don't react to the pain specifically. I do react to how the pain makes me feel, which is generally just bad. this one is difficult to describe, but imagine you live in an underground bunker, and you've lived there for years. you may recall sunlight from childhood, but it's such a foreign concept to you at this point that you can safely say you don't remember it. a crack opens up above you, bleeding bright sunlight into your uncomfortable but familiar cave. instead of feeling the warmth of the sun, you feel annoyed at the brightness of this offending white-hot light. this is what it feels like to wake up with something terrible that you're just accustomed to, in the back of your mind knowing that there's something better but rejecting it because you know you can't have it anymore. you know this sunlight feels warm , but it's actually just hurting your eyes.

I'm terrified of new experiences. before my chronic pain was this bad, I used to be a thrill seeker. I have a roller coaster credit tracker in the hundreds. I haven't gone out of my way to ride challenging coasters since the manifestation of my constant pain, because I'm afraid of hurting myself. there are so many coasters that have been built since my diagnosis, and so many that have been on my list for years that I hadn't gotten around to yet, that I don't know if I'll ever do because I'm afraid of things I was never afraid of before. things I used to be able to handle with ease are now things that keep me up at night, so I go to sleep watching videos of other people experiencing these things instead.

fearing a flare-up will not prevent a flare-up. I'm still actively working as a server even though I have chronic hip/leg/back pain (dumb, I know, but unfortunately life goes on while you're stuck and certain resources aren't available to everyone.) I'll try to prepare myself for shifts that I know are going to suck by taking ibuprofen (which I've already established doesn't always reach the pain threshold) and wearing an icyhot patch on the affected area. i'll spend the morning doing yoga. sometimes, no matter how much prep I put in, my hip will still give out in the middle of the shift and I'll spend the rest of my time at work limping and waiting for it all to be over. there's simply just nothing I could have done to prevent it. it's taken a lot for me to accept that my body is just not built to handle certain things, and setting myself to the same standards as people who don't experience chronic pain is pointless. I can do all the prep in the world, or no prep at all, and I'll still be sore after work. chronic pain is, inevitably, chronic.

pain fucks with my brain. my pain is constant enough that it fades into the background of my day, but sometimes it really wants to be noticed. if I'm in a mental state where I'm not able to pay attention to my pain and treat it (such as at work), the pain will instead creep up into my brain and cause brain fog and cognitive dysfunction. I often won't realize I'm in pain until I can't formulate simple thoughts. this, along with compensation pain (discussed in post #3) is a good indicator that I'm overworking my body and need a rest, when I'm too busy or distracted to listen to my pain itself.

there we have it, just some things that felt like a paragraph rather than an essay. again, I'm happy to expand on any of these topics if anyone is interested. I make these posts for writers (of fanfics or otherwise) to understand what they're putting their characters through when they tag #whump and #hurtnocomfort, but they are also real lived experiences. I have the knowledge, and I'm happy to explain it. <3

[starsnblue]

Heartbreaker - James Potter x Reader

Warnings: 18+, consensual choking, piv.

Summary: The Marauders have a list rating all the girls in school. Sirius makes a bet with James that he can’t sleep with the poor girl at the bottom.

AN: Angst warning! This idea came to me out of the blue yesterday, enjoy <3.

Part 1/Part 2/Part 3

-3.1K

Out of all the boys in his year Sirius Black had probably shagged the most girls. James Potter was a close second to that title. 

The pair would go around admiring each girl and what she had to offer. Of course, to be admired by either of them was a huge morale boost in itself and that girl quickly became the envy of those around her. Then, they would make a list of who they would most like to shag based on these qualities. Simple stuff really. 

That list was legendary. No one ever saw it except for those two, and Remus Lupin and Peter Pettigrew of course. But the speculation surrounding it was gossip enough. Who was at the top? God, most girls would tear their hair out to know. Was it Lacey from Hufflepuff, who claimed to have the biggest rack in the whole school? Or Rachel, the Ravenclaw said to give the best head by all the boys she slept with. Whispers swirled and rumours ran rampant over who claimed the title of ‘hottest girl in school’.

But, a juicer topic of conversation still was, who was at the bottom? 

One afternoon James and Sirius were mucking about in the dorm, ostensibly tidying but actually making careful additions and subtractions to their precious list. 

“Is she still at the bottom?” Asked Sirius, glancing at the name crammed onto the end of the parchment. 

James nodded absentmindedly, trying to decide whose hair he liked better out of two girls he slept with last week. 

Sirius hummed, the cogs in his head turning. When was the last time they’d done something really fun? A slow, devious grin spread across his face. 

“Say James,” He said casually, stretching out beside the boy, “I’ll give you twenty five galleons to fuck her.”

James head shot up, brows furrowed in confusion. 

“Who, her?” He questioned, looking at the writing. “Nah mate.”

Sirius’ face fell. He was just about to complain about how boring James was when,-

“I’d need at least fifty or it’s not worth it. If I’m going to stoop that low I need adequate compensation.” 

Sirius smiled widely, reaching up to shake James’ hand.

“You’re on.” 

And the game was afoot. 

-

James knew he couldn’t just approach you straight up and suggest a quick broom cupboard romp, you’d never say yes. It was one of the reasons you were down there in the first place, you were so boring. Or at least, that’s what they thought of you. 

James didn’t know much about you either, which didn’t help. Still, he was almost sure he’d conquered harder battles. Almost. 

He started easily, finding you concealed between bookshelves in the library. Curled up on a window seat, book in hand, a steaming cup of tea within arms reach, you were the picture of safety. Domestic bliss. It was up to him to break that. 

But he could’t be obvious. There was a good chance you’d guess what his intentions were anyway, his reputation preceded him, but maybe he could at least convince you he was doing it because he actually liked you.

So, he strolled confusedly along the little alley, staring at the books, pretending not to have noticed you. He tried to act like he didn’t know which book to pick and then you’d help him out and boom! Conversation started. Except he was wondering for quite a long time, because you didn’t look up. Either you were too shy, too engrossed in your book or maybe you actually hadn’t noticed him. Whatever the reason, his plan didn’t work. Now he had to think on his feet. 

Stumbling down, he accidentally-on-purpose knocked over your tea, soaking the cushions around you.

“Oh!” There it was. 

James started apologising profusely, whipping out his handkerchief to try and mop up some of the hot liquid. You’d jumped up to avoid getting any on your clothes, and in doing so, ended up rather close to him. Perfect 

James spun you around by your shoulders so you were face to face, mere inches away from each other. Staring into your eyes, he started apologising again.

“I’m so sorry darling. Please, I just wasn’t watching where I was going and I didn’t notice your tea there, please, please, I’m so sorry I’ll-“ 

You cut him off gently. 

“It’s okay,” You smiled weakly up at him, “No harm done.” 

James only redoubled his efforts. 

“Are you sure you’re okay? I mean, a burn is nothing to downplay, let me take you to Madam Pomfrey, or at least get you another cup hmm?” 

You shook your head, denying him both things. 

“I’m alright James, really. Though Madam Pince might not be once she sees the state of her cushions.” 

With a flourish, James produced his want from his robes. 

“Never fear,” He said and bent down, siphoning the tea stain off the cushions with the tip of his wand.

You were mildly impressed. That wasn’t just run-of-the-mill magic. 

When James turned around, you were smiling at him. He wasn’t quite sure what he’d done to garner that reaction, but he’d certainly use it to his advantage. 

“Let me get you a replacement yeah?” He suggested, “Hogsmeade this weekend?” 

You blushed, clutching your book to your chest and turned away. James instantly knew he’d done too much too soon. Shit. 

He leapt forward, still trying to talk his way out of this into you, “Or not! That’s fine! How about we just go to the kitchens now?”

But you were already walking away, your peace disturbed. 

“No thank you Potter.” 

You left, leaving him slightly disheveled and his mind racing. 

-

He tried again a few days later. You were on your way back to your common room when he caught up with you in the corridor. 

“Hey you,” He called. 

You turned, confused. Why was he talking to you again? 

“Err, hey,” You said, turning away and continuing to walk. 

He jogged up to you, grinning all the while like you’d made the sun rise this morning. Annoying, boyishly handsome. 

“Where you off to?” 

You answered shortly, politely, but you didn’t invite any further conversation. You tried to walk faster, but he only matched your pace. 

“Oh cool,” He commented, “Any further plans tonight?” 

The way he said ‘tonight’ put you on your guard, this was James Potter after all. 

“No,” You said cautiously. You still weren’t looking at him. 

“Great! I mean, not great, I mean, oh you know what I mean,” He said lightly, laughing off his blunder. You weren’t laughing. “You couldn’t be tempted to take a walk with me around the grounds this evening, could you? I think the moon’s meant to be very pretty this evening.”

You sighed irritably. “No thank you, Potter, when I want to go on a date with you I’ll ask you myself.”

That stumped James so much he came to an abrupt halt. You took the opportunity and sped off, once again, leaving James on his own. He was thinking hard. 

‘You’d ask him yourself?’ Really? He thought you would never be brave enough to do something like that. You were so quiet and withdrawn, he wouldn’t ever peg you down as someone who’d make the first move. But then it dawned on him slowly, that there was probably a lot of stuff he didn’t know about you 

But he’d love to find out. 

-

The third time, the time you said yes, was a chance meeting on the Astronomy Tower one evening. All the previous encounters between you two had been scientifically engineered by James with the help of the Marauders Map, but tonight, it was all chance. 

James thanked his lucky stars when he arrived at the top of the tower and saw you sat there, staring at the moon. He knew you came up here sometimes and this wasn’t his first visit up here in hopes of bumping into you. 

Quietly, he snuck around until he was stood next to you, before perching on the empty stone on your right side. You didn’t turn to look at him. 

“Hello Potter.”

He sat up a little straighter.

“What’re you doing up here?” 

James had decided earlier, after the failed attempts, that honesty was the best policy when it came to you. So it was time to test it out. 

“I was looking for you.” He said softly. 

Now it was your turn to sit up straighter. You were sure he was able to hear your heartbeat. 

“What did you want me for?” You asked slowly.

James was looking at you. You could feel his eyes on the side of your face. Slowly, tentatively, you turned to look at him too. 

His eyes were bright, sparkling in the moonlight, framed by his glasses. His hair fell perfectly over his forehead and his lips… His lips looked like they were waiting for you. 

You sucked in a quick breath as James moved impossibly closer, your noses almost touching. You were still waiting for a reply, even though you didn’t need one. You knew. 

James knew you knew. 

So it was you who leant forward and closed the gap between you two, unable to bear the suspense any longer. You felt James’ lips part in surprise before he was kissing you back, one hand coming up to cup your jaw, the other curling round to rest on your back. 

You kissed him gently at first. You settled a hand on his knee and one at the nape of his neck before you deepened it. Tongues meeting, you moaned quietly into his mouth, unexpectedly enjoying this. At first, you thought if you finally kissed him he would leave you alone. But now James had you, he didn’t want to let you go. 

Your moan must’ve triggered something in him, because he left your mouth to kiss along your jaw and down to your neck, sucking gently. You sighed, running your fingers through his hair, holding him there. Your hand crept up his leg and as you got closer and closer, he  sucked harder and harder, until you would have a brilliant purple mark tomorrow. 

Reaching the apex of his thighs, you dared to brush over the bulge in his jeans. You may as well have set off an explosive. James leapt up and in one swift movement stripped off his jumper and his top. He bent down, putting them behind you before covering your body with his, pressing you down to lie on your back. 

You were encased. All your senses just screamed James Potter and you were more than happy about it. Reaching up, you pulled him down to meet your lips again in a bruising kiss, need building in both of you. The hand that was not holding himself up travelled down until he was cupping your breast. Squeezing and groping you over your clothes, you quickly grew frustrated, needing more skin-on-skin contact. 

You put a hand on his chest to push him back so you could sit up and pull off your own clothes. Once you had emerged, leaving yourself in your bra, you saw that James’ face had lit up like a Christmas tree. You had to refrain from giggling. You unhooked your bra and took that off too. James groaned comically before he charged forward again, burying his face in your chest. This time you did giggle, caressing his head as he licked and mouthed your tits, leaving a trail of shiny spit behind. 

“James.” You moaned breathily. He only grunted back, preoccupied. 

He was straddling you as his hands moved down to work you out of your trousers and underwear. You were naked on the cold stone, lying half-heartedly on James’ jumper. 

James sat up to admire the mess he’d made of you. Under the moonlight you glowed: hair messy, face flushed, hickey blooming on your neck, tits covered in his spit. He grinned proudly. 

“James.” You breathed again, begging now. 

He fumbled with his own belt, stripping himself of the last remaining barrier. You were eager to see what James Potter was packing after his reputation, but the feeling of fingers sliding over your core was distracting. 

You jumped as he rubbed experimental circles on your clit, grinning at you all the while.

“You’re so wet for me.” He said it like it was a badge of honour. “Ready for me hm?” He asked, moving his hand down to ease two fingers into you. 

“Oh yes,” He groaned, “Fuck, you were probably born ready.”

You didn’t answer him, instead wriggling your hips enticingly. James laughed, getting the message. 

Your impatience turned into a whimper as you felt the head of his cock pressing into you, lubricating himself with you before he positioned himself at your entrance. He sank in slowly, watching you take him reverently. The stretch of his cock was deliciously filling and you moaned as he bottomed out. 

“Fuck,” He cursed, tossing his head. “You feel like heaven.” 

You didn’t stop to think about how many other girls he’d said that too, letting the praise wash over you. You moaned as he began to move, his thrusts deep and steady. 

Much to the other’s delight, you were both vocal, moaning loudly and sighing as James sped up. The despicable sound of your wetness being sloshed around by his cock was probably echoing over the grounds along with your moans, but neither of you cared. 

You sighed, this was nice and all, but you’d need more if you were going to cum. 

“Choke me.” You gasped out at him, propping yourself up on your elbows. 

James swore he hand’t heard you correctly and stared up, confused. You rolled your eyes. Instead of repeating yourself you simply grabbed his arm, pulling his hand up to place it around your throat. 

Oh. Oh. 

James grip flexed as he grasped your neck firmly, before he began to squeeze. He cut off the circulation gently, letting your head fill with a delicious buzzing. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head, this what you’d been missing. 

James on his part, had underestimated you once again. He’d never in a million years thought you’d be into that kinky stuff. In fact, he could count on one hand the amount of partners he’d had who wanted to be choked. This was a shame really, because James Potter must’ve taken a masterclass in breath play. 

He knew just how much to restrict you, how long for and when to let you gasp for breath before repeating the process all over again. All the while his thrusts never slowed, and you could feel the pleasure building in you, brick by brick. 

You were muttering curses under your breath now, bringing a hand down to rub at your clit, orgasm building. James understood, and his thrusts became harder, faster, just as the hand around your throat became infinitely tighter. 

You were done for, moaning out loudly as your orgasm crashed heavily over you. Toes curling, head thrown back, gasping for air as James released his hold on your neck, letting air fill your lungs. Your own orgasm triggered his own and he swore loudly as he came in your cunt, filling you up. 

For a short while, the two of you simply panted staring at each other, each thinking their own thoughts. You were mentally ticking off which rumours were true and which weren’t about James’ sex life, enjoying the left over buzz, whilst he was realising he has seriously underestimated you. He suddenly saw you in a new light, one that was much more flattering and was determined to discover more. 

Eventually, you disentangled yourself from him and pulled your panties back on, catching the flow of cum dribbling from your pussy.

“Oi,” James said tiredly, “I wanted those.” 

You giggled, tired too, “Too slow Potter.” 

He was just about to state his case as to why you should give him your used panties when a noise started up from just behind him. 

You both froze, listening to the sound get closer and closer. You weren’t sure what it was, or who else would be wondering the Astronomy Tower at night, but you weren’t going to stick around to find out. James had just pulled on his boxers and you’d managed to cover your tits with your top when a figure appeared form around the corner, and you realised what the sound was. 

Clapping. A slow, purposeful clap, coming from one boy who was emerging from the dark, stepping into the moonlight. 

Your heart stuttered and went still as Sirius Black walked towards the both of you. Under one arm he had a piece of parchment that meant nothing to you, and in the other, a large sack. You were momentarily terrified of what he would do with it, but he simply chucked it at James’ feet. It clinked loudly.

“There you go,” He said cheekily, “Your winnings.” 

“I- what?” You asked, looking up at James questioningly still clutching the jumper to protect your modesty. He was staring at the floor, past his ‘winnings’ past his feet, and looking, if you didn’t know any better, ashamed. But why, why would he unless…

Your eyes smarted before filling with tears. You weren’t stupid. You could recognise a bet when you saw one. 

‘And I was part of it.’ You let the realisation was over you, feeling worse and worse by the millisecond. How long had Sirius stood there, listening to you? Your breathing became quick and shallow as your eyes flickered between James, still staring at the floor, and Sirius, who was grinning widely, saying “I really didn’t think you had it in you Prongs, I thought you’d never stoop that low.”

The words swam in your ears like the tears in your eyes before they fell. You waited desperately for one of them to say this had all been some big understanding, but it never came. You’d never felt more belittled or embarrassed or pathetic in your life. You wanted to sink though the floor and disappear, or better still, flee school all together before all of Hogwarts got to hear about this. Sniffing, you scrabbled to actually pull a top on, not bothering with your trousers, before you got shakily up and made your way towards the staircase. 

Behind you, you could hear Sirius laughing and congratulating James on his success. James was silent. He was watching you go, willing you to turn back. You didn’t. You were too busy wiping tears off your face, trying not to hyperventilate or dissolve into a panic attack. 

At least you knew who was at the bottom of the list now. 

Masterlist<3

[thebllifechosemeorsmth]

SmartBoom Fanfiction

Rated: E

Hurt No Comfort. Seriously, I committed a grave crime against the fandom with this one. Please don't read it and then say, Wow they hurt me and then didn't comfort me I'm going to say mean mean things in the comments! Because this is your warning, it's gonna hurt.

An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works

[cherrytilltheend]

where i'll be looking in their eyes when i'm down

i wanted to write a work for the mouthwashing fandom since ive been exploring it for a while, and swansea and daisuke's parent-child relationship hit me like a ten-tonne truck full of cement so i decided to hurt swansea

you're welcome

https://archiveofourown.org/works/63350119