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kurohe · 6 months ago

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Things you can do to actively participate in the revolution

Here's the list !

I know some of those will look really silly, i promise they are not. And obviously, this is not a checklist, you don't have to do everything. But they're steps that you can absolutely take if you wish to, and they WILL help.

(Thanks everyone for your help, and for adding things yourself with your reblogs <3)

(under the cut !)

1) Let's start off with a very easy one you can do right now: stop using Chrome. It's a google owned browser, and it sents all of your data towards it. Mozilla is a very good replacement, but almost anything will do, really. Also, resign your amazon prime subscription. We revolting against capitalism as a whole, and this is a good first step to not freely give em your data and money

2) Start stealing things from supermarkets and malls. I am not kidding. Little things, that aren't really monitored: a can of food, a lighter, a pair of socks. Condiments are particularly easy to hide in bags or pockets. Steal hygiene products, steal food.

Remember that you should have access to those for free, and you don't because a few rich guys don't want you to.

Additional tip: train station stores are very easy to steal from, because they're so busy. But don't put yourself in danger. Check beforehand if they check bags at checkout, look out for employees that might notice what you're doing. Don't be reckless.

(edit: imma say this, you should read up on what the risks of stealing are, for you and others. Stealing from big stores is IMO always morally right, but it is risky for many reasons. Be careful)

3) In the same line, if you see someone stealing anything from a big store, no you didn't.

4) I know a lot of people are scared of disrespecting rules. By fear of being caught, or by guilt. My advice is: start disrespecting stupid, meaningless rules. I don't have specific exemples, but you'll encounter them and wonder why you're doing that. Stop doing it. This will train you to be able to disobey autority way easier.

5) Put stickers everywhere. If you already have them, go ham. Especially on public property (lamposts are amazing). If you don't, buy them from artists or independant stores, not big brands. If you cannot afford them, remember that you can simply write stuff on an A4 paper and plaster it to walls. Or even post its !

6) Carry a sharpie with you at all time, the big black ones. If you see propaganda, scribble it out. Keep a look out for terfs stickers, maga posters, etc. Also good for getting rid of transphobic and sexist stuff written on public restroom stalls !

7) Buy locally. This means going to the market or small stores, and thrifting your clothes. If you can't for money or accessibility reasons, try trading with your friends, family and neighbours. Get communication going in your circles, and you'll realise there are a lot of things that you can simply trade with or buy from people around you. Like a jar of jam against some eggs, or a pair of socks for a t-shirt you don't wear anymore !

8) Learn how to sew. I know, that sounds dumb ! But i promise you, not only will it be amazing to trade with other people ("i'll sew back ur shirt and in exchange, you give me a can of peaches !"), corporations also haaaate when you know how to fix your clothes. Because they want you to buy more. You'll spend a lot less money if you know how to fix em

9) If you have the space and the money, grow your own food, and share it or sell it around you. Be careful, some assholes will call the FDA on you. Do that with people you trust.

Additional tip: growing vegetables and fruits can be a real nightmare. You can absolutely start by just growing some basil or mint :)

10) Organise. Join leftist groups online, even if it's just to see what's being said, you don't even need to interact. Follow creators, repost and share their content. By doing that, you'll stay informed on group movements like strikes, protests and boycotts, which you can then participate in. It's very important you're connected to other ppl and the movements that are started !

11) Unionize. I'm very sorry I don't know the exact way unions work in the US, but if you can, join one. They will help you in times of needs, especially if you're a student or a worker. If you're not sure how to do that, absolutely ask around to people you know are very active politically, around you or online. People will help.

12) Stay. Informed. Follow independant papers and news outlet. If you can afford it, give them a dollar or two. They are fighting everyday for access to unbiased information for all, and sadly, their independance means that they rely almost entirely on donations and people simply engaging with what they put out.

If you can't access those: do not get your news from TV. Ever. Or anywhere else that has been bought by the far right. Sadly, the majority of TV channels are just the worst.

And, most importantly: fact check. All of the time.

13) Share that information. Talk to those you trust and who are ready to listen to you, and tell them about what's happening. Get angry with them. Revolution stems from people coming together and realising that they're being used and profited off of. Share videos and posts relating to politics, especially informative videos.

14) Go to protests ! If you've never been, i know it can be scary. But you can stay in the middle (don't go all the way to the front, that's where stuff can get heated) and scream and walk with everyone else. You'll meet people who, like you, want things to change. Capitalism wants you to stay as unconnected to others as possible, and that's a great way to fight that.

Sometimes, there are sites that have a planning for all protests happening in a city. Look up if one exists for yours

15) Create and strenghten community. I know i really struggled with this one, because it's so vague. But here's a few places you can start:

-Go and introduce yourself to your neighbours, if you deem it safe. Give them a little gift if you can afford it, like a pack of pasta.

-Make new friends, even if they aren't deep friendships. You need connections. Online or irl, both are fine- don't stay isolated.

-If you already have community, go check on them right now. Ask your friends how they're doing, and if they need anything- ask how they're being impacted by what's happening right now politically.

16) Look for ways to fuck over the institutions in easy ways. One example that went around tumblr a lot is letting dandelions grow in your backyard, because landlords fucking hate it. If you work in retail or fast food, cheat. Accidentally forget to scan the diapers. Put in 7 nuggets instead of 6.

(edit: been told that it's very risky for walmart workers to not scan things, so beware.)

17) Engage in art. MAKE art. Music, shitty paint drawings, craft, anything as long as you're being creative. Share it. If you feel like you can't do that, then support artists. Make a point to look up cool illustrations, and new music. Go to the cinema.

If you're an artist currently in an underpaid office job, please, by the love of god, be creative during office hours. You're underpaid, they do not deserve your full time and attention. Take 30 minutes to write that snippet you've been thinking about.

(and actually, if you're underpaid at all: do the minimum required. So that you can't be fired, but that's it. Any more effort is not worth it. Companies will never be thankful for what you do.)

18) Look up books that your state banned, and go read them. You can get them secondhand, or as pdfs online. (if anyone needs ressources, i will glady look for and share them.)

And, actually, read books in general if you can. Yes, fanfics count !

19) Seek education. There's a lot of youtube channels out there talking about educational subjects in a fun way. Some things the rich assholes who run the country specifically don't want you to learn more about are: biology, history and archeology, social and economic sciences. GO LEARN ABOUT THOSE.

The people in power don't want you to be educated. It's why they eviscerated the education system.

20) PIRATE. I cannot stress this enough, anything you can pirate (that isn't from small, indie creators, except if you absolutely can't afford it) do it. Download music illegally, torrent movies and games. If you want access to academical studies and papers, some writers will give them to you for free if you email them about it. There are also ways to go around paywalls.

21) Don't fall for the traps of "progressive brands". Lately, i've seen a lot of praise for Ben and Jerry's for openly supporting lgbtq rights and being globally anti-trump. They are still a brand. Avoid buying from any big names when you can. That being said, if you have to, check beforehand which ones and what their history is. Some are more evil than others.

Additional tip: a lot of brands you see in stores are actually owned by bigger brands. One prime example of this is Nestle, who are fucking evil, but they own a shitload of other big names. Be careful what you buy.

22) I hate to say this, but be prepared to defend yourself. Revolutions are never peaceful. You will get in danger. If you can, get in ok physical shape. Learn how to run fast and fight well.

If none of those are available options to you, please, make sure you have someone around you that will be able to protect you, or a place where you can be safe. Whether you are disabled, a minor, or anything else. Don't put yourself in more danger than is necessary.

(this used to also include getting a gun. I deleted it because i don't feel comfortable recommending this. But it's still an option.)

23) Last but not least, be kind. When someone cuts off a woman speaking, interrupt and give her the floor back. Shame those who think it's right to say bigoted shit in public. Listen to those around you. If you can't act, then remember to always have empathy for the homeless, for drug users, for immigrants. Understand they are people just like you. You are not immune to propaganda and prejudice, no matter who you are. Always question yourself and your biases.

(if you've read this far, please repost. We need this to reach as many people as possible)

I want to remind you that you're not alone. I know things seem hopeless, but the simple fact that you're reading this is proof it's not. I don't live in the US, but i'm supporting you as best i can from where i am, and sending you strenght.

If you have any questions, do ask away. I'll end on this image that's very dear to me:

#us politics #eat the rich #my credentials are that i am french btw #i hope this helps even one person #if that's the case then i succeeded #donald trump

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reasonsforhope · 7 months ago

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"When Ellen Kaphamtengo felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen, she thought she might be in labour. It was the ninth month of her first pregnancy and she wasn’t taking any chances. With the help of her mother, the 18-year-old climbed on to a motorcycle taxi and rushed to a hospital in Malawi’s capital, Lilongwe, a 20-minute ride away.

At the Area 25 health centre, they told her it was a false alarm and took her to the maternity ward. But things escalated quickly when a routine ultrasound revealed that her baby was much smaller than expected for her pregnancy stage, which can cause asphyxia – a condition that limits blood flow and oxygen to the baby.

In Malawi, about 19 out of 1,000 babies die during delivery or in the first month of life. Birth asphyxia is a leading cause of neonatal mortality in the country, and can mean newborns suffering brain damage, with long-term effects including developmental delays and cerebral palsy.

Doctors reclassified Kaphamtengo, who had been anticipating a normal delivery, as a high-risk patient. Using AI-enabled foetal monitoring software, further testing found that the baby’s heart rate was dropping. A stress test showed that the baby would not survive labour.

The hospital’s head of maternal care, Chikondi Chiweza, knew she had less than 30 minutes to deliver Kaphamtengo’s baby by caesarean section. Having delivered thousands of babies at some of the busiest public hospitals in the city, she was familiar with how quickly a baby’s odds of survival can change during labour.

Chiweza, who delivered Kaphamtengo’s baby in good health, says the foetal monitoring programme has been a gamechanger for deliveries at the hospital.

“[In Kaphamtengo’s case], we would have only discovered what we did either later on, or with the baby as a stillbirth,” she says.

The software, donated by the childbirth safety technology company PeriGen through a partnership with Malawi’s health ministry and Texas children’s hospital, tracks the baby’s vital signs during labour, giving clinicians early warning of any abnormalities. Since they began using it three years ago, the number of stillbirths and neonatal deaths at the centre has fallen by 82%. It is the only hospital in the country using the technology.

“The time around delivery is the most dangerous for mother and baby,” says Jeffrey Wilkinson, an obstetrician with Texas children’s hospital, who is leading the programme. “You can prevent most deaths by making sure the baby is safe during the delivery process.”

The AI monitoring system needs less time, equipment and fewer skilled staff than traditional foetal monitoring methods, which is critical in hospitals in low-income countries such as Malawi, which face severe shortages of health workers. Regular foetal observation often relies on doctors performing periodic checks, meaning that critical information can be missed during intervals, while AI-supported programs do continuous, real-time monitoring. Traditional checks also require physicians to interpret raw data from various devices, which can be time consuming and subject to error.

Area 25’s maternity ward handles about 8,000 deliveries a year with a team of around 80 midwives and doctors. While only about 10% are trained to perform traditional electronic monitoring, most can use the AI software to detect anomalies, so doctors are aware of any riskier or more complex births. Hospital staff also say that using AI has standardised important aspects of maternity care at the clinic, such as interpretations on foetal wellbeing and decisions on when to intervene.

Kaphamtengo, who is excited to be a new mother, believes the doctor’s interventions may have saved her baby’s life. “They were able to discover that my baby was distressed early enough to act,” she says, holding her son, Justice.

Doctors at the hospital hope to see the technology introduced in other hospitals in Malawi, and across Africa.

“AI technology is being used in many fields, and saving babies’ lives should not be an exception,” says Chiweza. “It can really bridge the gap in the quality of care that underserved populations can access.”"

-via The Guardian, December 6, 2024

#cw child death #cw pregnancy #malawi #africa #ai #artificial intelligence #public health #infant mortality #childbirth #medical news #good news #hope

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cognitivejustice · 20 days ago

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Firstly, the researchers removed the phones’ batteries and replaced them with external power sources to reduce the risk of chemical leakage into the environment, a ScienceDaily report explains.

Then, four phones were connected together, fitted with 3D-printed casings and holders, and turned into a working prototype ready to be reused.

“Innovation often begins not with something new, but with a new way of thinking about the old, re-imagining its role in shaping the future,” says Huber Flores, Associate Professor of Pervasive Computing at the University of Tartu in Estonia.

The prototype created by researchers was put to use underwater, where it participated in the monitoring of marine life by helping to count different sea species.

Normally, these kinds of tasks require a scuba diver to record video and bring it to the surface for analysis. The prototype meant the whole process could be done automatically underwater.

And there are many other ways that a phone’s capacity to efficiently process and store data can be put to good use after its WhatsApping days are done.

These mini data centres could also be used at bus stops, for example, to collect real-time data on the number of passengers. This could help to optimise public transportation networks.

Such smartphone repurposing is just a drop in the ocean of issues that natural resource mining, energy-intensive production and e-waste present. Ultimately, we need to challenge this throwaway culture and move to a more circular model.

#solarpunk #solar punk #reculture #estonia

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xobunni0 · 6 months ago

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𝐟𝐮𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫

𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐟!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

౨ৎ 𝐈𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐢𝐜𝐡.. what started innocently. over time grew more deeper, more personal, and attraction was undeniable.

- E.T is HIS song, a man that yearns is a man THAT EARNS!!, giggling while writing this, once again he’s a sweetheart, 𝐰𝐜- 1526

𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐈'𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐤 𝐢𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐥…

the halls of the facility were silent, with the hum of fluorescent lights and the occasional distant beep of monitors. you moved carefully clutching the stolen clearance card in one hand. the night shift was low tonight, but if anyone caught you.. there’d be no way to explain what you were doing

finally, you reached the heavy steel door that led to where he was being kept. with a swipe of the card and with a soft beep the lock opened. you exhaled a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in and slipped inside

the dim lighting of the containment room made you feel even more uneasy. seated in the far corner of his glass enclosure was Shadow. he sat with one leg stretched out, and the other bent, his back resting against the wall. his eyes were closed but the moment you entered his ears twitched ever so slightly, and his gaze moved to you.

“risking a lot just to see me again” he said, his voice low and smooth but with the faintest hint of teasing

“yes.” you smiled, stepping closer to the glass barrier

his expression softened in a way that only you ever seemed to see. it made your heart skip a beat every time. he stood and approached the glass, stopping mere inches from where you stood on the other side

“are they suspicious?” he asked, his tone now more serious

you shook your head. “not yet. but I can’t stay long. If they catch me-”

“they won’t.” his voice was firm. his hand hovered near the glass and instinctively you mirrored the action, your fingertips meeting the cold glass that separated you

“I hate this” you whispered, “I wish I could do more. I hate sneaking around like this.”

Shadow’s gaze never left yours.

His smirk returned, faint but there. “You do plenty. more than anyone else would dare.”

the warmth in his voice sent a flutter through your chest, and for a moment.. the severity of what you were doing did not matter. in this moment it was just the two of you.

“time’s running out” you said hesitantly, glancing down at your watch

shadow’s faint smirk faded, “Then go. Don’t get caught.”

you hesitated, your eyes locking with his.

you stepped back from the glass slowly, your hand lingering against it for just a moment longer. “I’ll be back” you promised

“I know” he replied, his voice softer now

your hand was on the door when Shadow’s voice stopped you.

“Wait.”

you turned back. heart pounding, his crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. he stepped closer to the glass his movements slow

“I want to feel you” he said, his voice low

you knew what he meant. “Shadow…” you whispered, your voice trembling.

“I trust you” he said, the tone in his voice cutting through your fear. “If anyone can do it.. it’s you.”

you hesitated for only a moment before nodding. you had been on the edge of risk for weeks, but this… this was crossing the line. and yet you couldn’t deny him. not when he looked at you like that

quickly, you turned to the control panel beside the glass. your fingers flew over the keys, entering codes you weren’t supposed to know. you had spent countless nights memorizing the system just in case a moment like this ever came

the hiss of the containment seal breaking startled you both. the glass slid aside, revealing Shadow standing there. his presence overwhelming now that the barrier was gone

for a moment, neither of you moved. then slowly he stepped forward. his crimson eyes searched yours, as though waiting for confirmation that this was real

you reached out first, your fingers trembling as they brushed against the soft fur of his chest. the contact sent a jolt through you both and Shadow let out a breathy sigh

“Warm” he murmured, as if surprised

Shadow’s other hand came up hesitantly. his gloved fingers brushing against your cheek. his touch was gentle

you let your fingers trace along his arm, his fur soft under your touch

you leaned against the cold metal wall, your heart hammering. Shadow moved closer his crimson eyes scanning every inch of your face , taking you in completely.

“You’re trembling” he said softly, his voice carrying none of its usual sharpness

you hadn’t realized it until now, but your hands were shaking. the adrenaline of what you’d just done was coursing through you and the risk you’d taken started weighing heavy.

“I’m fine” you lied, your voice uneven

Shadow stepped even closer, his towering presence blocking out the harsh glow of the lights overhead. he reached out his gloved hand brushing against your cheek softly

“Don’t lie to me” he murmured

the concern in his eyes broke you completely.

“I’m just… scared” you admitted, your voice breaking slightly

Shadow’s hand moved to cradle your face, his touch warm despite the coolness of his gloves. “You don’t have to be.”

his words were simple, but enough to melt your fear. his had been building between you for weeks, months…

without thinking you leaned into his touch, your eyes closing shut. his gloved fingers moved gently along your jawline his touch so soft and tender. when you opened your eyes again his gaze was locked on yours.

“Shadow…” you whispered, your voice trembling for an entirely different reason now

he leaned closer, his other hand coming to rest against the wall beside your head caging you in. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes” you said without hesitation, the word falling from your lips too quickly

“Then let me show you what freedom feels like.”

the space between you was no longer there as he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. the kiss was cautious at first, as if testing the boundaries. but when you tilted your head to deepen it his hesitation melted away.

his big gloved hands moved to the small of your back pulling you closer, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders, clinging to him like you would lose him if you let go.

no alarms, no guards, no glass keeping you apart. it was just the two of you, pressed together in the dim corridor. sharing something that puts everything on the line… but was so good.

when the kiss finally broke, you were both breathless. Shadow rested his forehead against yours his eyes half-lidded.

“I’ve wanted to do that for a long time” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper

you smiled, your fingers tracing the edge of his quills. “me too.”

Shadow’s crimson eyes lingered on yours, his hands rested lightly on your waist, his touch something you didn’t know you needed so bad. for a moment, neither of you spoke.

“You don’t understand what you’ve done for me” he said softly, his voice rough. “For so long… all I had was the glass. All I could do was watch you… memorize every detail of you from a distance. Your voice, the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you liked. I lived for those moments.”

your breath hitched at his words, your chest tightening. Shadow’s thumb traced a soft circle against your side

“You were my only connection to the outside” he continued, “Every time you came to see me even if it was just for a moment. but.. it was never enough. I couldn’t reach you. Couldn’t feel you.”

“Shadow…” you whispered

he reached up brushing his fingers along your cheek, his touch slow. “But now, you’re here. You’re real. I can touch you, hold you, feel your warmth.”

you placed your hand over his pressing his palm to your cheek.

his hand slipped from your cheek to cradle the back of your neck, pulling you closer. “You’re more than I deserve” he murmured. “You’ve risked everything for me.. and I don’t even know how to begin to tell you what that means. your brave, kind…”

he paused, his voice faltering for the first time. “and so beautiful.”

before you could respond he leaned in, capturing your lips in another kiss. this one was deeper, more intense, soaking in every minute of it now that the barriers between you were gone

when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, his breath warm against your skin. “I don’t know what I did to deserve you” he said softly.

for the first time... a small genuine smile curved his lips, softening his sharp features. he held you closer, his big arms wrapping around you as if he was afraid you might slip away

“You’ve given me something I thought I’d never have” he whispered

you buried your face in his soft chest, your arms tightening around him.

𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 ⏦ﾟᢉ𐭩 - 𓊆ྀི𝐝𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐞𓊇ྀི [𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰] 𝐌.𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

#౨ৎ #oneshot #shadow x reader #shadow the hedgehog x reader #shadow imagine #shadow the hedgehog #imagine #need him #who said that #fanfic #sonic movie #Sonic #sonic movie 3 #sonic the hedgehog #fluff

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itzpookiepooh · 3 months ago

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Bad Habit

You’re caught smoking a cigarette

Let’s be real he doesn’t play like that. When he says he’ll spit bubbles at you, he means it. You guys were walking along the beach when he told you he’d be back. You rummaged through your pockets for your lighter and loose cigarette. You would’ve brought the whole pack but you’ve been keeping this a secret from him.

You checked your surroundings, clear as day. You crouched down and lit it before you inhaled and exhaled. You felt your muscles relax as the cloud of nicotine disappeared. You were itching for this, it had been the most stressful week of your life and this was your answer. Nothing else worked in your opinion.

Raf suggested a walk to clear your mind right as you were about to disappear somewhere for a smoke. You wanted to say no but he was already dragging you away. Little did you know he found out about your little habit when he went to hang up your jacket and the pack fell out. He was too stunned to talk to you about it. He knew you’d deny it so he had to catch you in the act. You went to take another pull when you were splashed by the sea.

“What the fuck?” You mumbled to yourself because it wasn’t a small splash, no it was a good amount. Enough to put out your cigarette.

“Next time I’ll spit on you.” The Lumerian threatened as he got out of the water snatching it out of your mouth and crushing it in his hand.

After that he watched you like a hawk. No outside time alone, no unsupervised purchases, nothing. He would rather you be here as long as you can than put your life at risk for a stick of nicotine. He helped you find other ways to deal with the stress of work. Lately it’s been going for a swim which you hated to admit, worked.

He caught you when you were coming home from work. You smoked by the apartment building before coming in. He saw you put it out before taking the elevator to your home just to go on the balcony and smoke again. He thought that was a lot in just a day and began to wonder if these two were your only cigarettes today. He became lost in thought on how this all started.

One day you guys were hanging out and he could see how bothered you were. Not by him, never by him. By the fact that you haven’t smoked today. Anxiety was eating you up as your leg bounced at such a fast pace. He just watched as you were developing habits you didn’t have before.

“I’ve thought about picking up smoking.” His voice breaks the ongoing silence (other than your tapping foot) in the room. You looked at him as if he lost his mind.

“What? No. You’ll ruin your lungs.” You object with a shake of your head. He tilted his head at you with a raised eyebrow. “So then you’ll stop?” The question shocked you.

You thought you had been pretty stealthy but the longer you did it the less secretive you became. You stared at him knowing you were caught. You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose. You didn’t want to disappoint him so you agreed. He crumpled all your cigarettes so that they were ruined and you couldn’t use them. He worked with you on finding ways to stop the urge. You settled on chewing gum which was fine with him. He would rather you have packets of gum hiding all over your apartment than cigarettes.

Immediately goes through the house looking for your stashes. He found a few empty packs and some with a few left in them. You hid a newer pack in a fake plant you brought home to “liven up the space”, which shocked Zayne a little. He sighed at the thought of you smoking especially with your heart condition. He thought this was rather foolish but he didn’t want to judge you.

He monitored you closely before making any rash decisions. You got home from work and when you thought he was showering or working you’d step outside, smoke, and then come back inside to quickly shower before he could smell you. It was fool proof however you didn’t think you sat out there long enough for it to stick to your clothes. That’s what gave you away because no matter how quick you were he could smell it. He decided to bring it up over dinner.

“You have a heart condition, you shouldn’t be smoking.” He was blunt, no need to be soft with you because he knew it wouldn’t work.

“I’m not smoking that much—“ Arguing was futile when he showed you how many packs he found in the house alone. He hasn’t even checked your bike yet. You felt a bit of shame especially since you knew how bad your condition is.

He talked to you about things you could do to reduce the urge. He didn’t want to make you go cold turkey so quickly. You spent the next few weeks trying different things, you only broke the rules once when you left early for work to go to a gas station. Zayne confiscated those swiftly and luckily you didn’t do any damage to your condition. Now you were on a patch with regular counseling sessions. You were just stressed with the events of Josephine passing away which was understandable. Zayne made sure to remind you to lean on him more often.

He has heightened senses so he smelled what you tried to cover with perfume. The scent lingered on your clothes almost irritating him. As soon as you went to shower he sent your clothes for a wash. When he picked up your sweater loose cigarettes fell out of the pocket. Did you lose the case? What was going on here?

He frightened you when he came home causing you to drop the pack earlier. You gathered what you could because the wind swept up the packaging. He rolled his eyes throwing away the loose cigarettes while covering his nose from the stench stuck to your clothes. That night when you thought he was sleeping you tried to sneak out of bed to go indulge yourself. His evol wrapped around your waist like a boa constrictor, pulling you back to him.

“That’s a nasty habit you’ve got there sweetie. Its stench is hard to get out.” You were shocked he knew until you remembered he has an extremely good sense of smell. He told you to use him more often, tell him what was bothering you.

“I can quit cold turkey.” You told him with your arms crossed. He knew you wouldn’t it was a hard habit to kick. In order to help you he told you a fact about it he knew you’d care about.

“The worse your condition, the less you’ll be able to go on missions. Also your teeth are turning yellow.” You cover your mouth rushing to the bathroom to brush your teeth. He snickers waiting for you to come back out. He has you tell him if you have anymore lying around which lucky for him you don’t. You were on your last pack and were going to reup in the morning.

Now you spent mornings before work doing boxing with Sylus. If you weren’t boxing you were drinking a detoxing tea. If it was a really long day he would put on a record to lull you to sleep. He would do anything to keep your mind off of whatever was stressing you out.

He immediately confronted you. It turned into this whole thing. You stormed out of the house not wanting to hear him nag you. You were being scolded like you were a child. You were irritated listening to him yell as you sat on the couch. So when you got far enough you went to pull out your cigarettes only to find your pockets empty. You groan in frustration as you grip your hair.

“Looking for these?” His voice rings as he waves the pack in the air. You glare at him as he comes to sit next to you.

“Come here to nag me some more?” You pout your cheeks falling into your palms. He chuckled sadly as he pats your back.

“I just want what’s best for you and this?” He waves the package at you. “Is not what’s best.” He had a point you couldn’t lie.

“I’m just stressed out that’s all. Tired mostly.” You mumble. He pulls you into him as he comforts you.

“Then tell me these things. I want to help but I can’t help you if you don’t tell me.” You eventually agree and ask him for the package which he reluctantly gave you. You threw them in the nearest garbage can with pursed lips. Was this for the best? You hated burdening people but this was Caleb who would do anything for you.

He spent countless amounts of time working with how you could deal with cravings. It chopped down to sweets, not too much to where you’d have a stomachache but enough to get over this hump. He was proud of you for quitting and as a reward you got to fly his ship…with his guidance of course.

If you smoke don’t kill me I had this random idea and had to write it 🙂 also I wanna do more bad habits like nail biting and stuff like that I had fun writing this!

Hope you liked it 💋

#rafayel love and deepspace #rafayel x reader #love and deepspace xavier #xavier x reader #zayne love and deepspace #zayne x reader #sylus love and deepspace #sylus x reader #pookie n’ lads °❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

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yieldtotemptation · 11 months ago

Text

MINE ft. Yeji

yeji x male reader smut

9k words

it's a follow up to... NURSE

“You’re unbelievable!”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“You’re going to make me go insane!”

“That good, am I?”

“I swear one of these days—”

“I know, I know, I feel the same—”

“—I am seriously going to kill you!”

“Uh, shit, I’m out of jokes with that one.”

“Good, because I am Not. Fucking. Joking.”

Yeji’s well and truly pissed—rightfully so, mind you (you really fucked up this time), and for the first time ever there may really be no clever quip or line that can get you out of this one.

But of course, that won’t stop you from trying.

“Look around! This isn’t a fucking joke!”

She’s glaring at you, the kind of furious that could melt steel with her gaze alone, eyes narrowed into sharp slits that slice through your bullshit like a hot knife.

And so, you blink first, balking under Yeji’s glare, and decide to take her advice and look away, look around at your surroundings—at the many, many reasons Yeji is justifiably upset.

For one, there’s your current location—a hospital room, not a good look. Then, there’s the cast around your arm and bandages on your head—not the worse of injuries, but again, when you couple it with the IV snaking its way up your arm, and the morbid beeping of a heart rate monitor filling the silence, it really does not make you out to be the most intact of individuals.

Finally, there’s Yeji, her eyes verging on tears and her hands balled into fists, clutching the fabric of your hospital gown and looking like she’s ready to tear the room apart.

Add them all together: a hospital room, a handsome but seriously injured boyfriend, with his devastated girlfriend wracked with worry besides him… it doesn’t paint the best of pictures.

But yet, before you can stop yourself, another attempt at lightening the mood: “You should see the other guy.”

There it is! A crack in Yeji’s armour, a flicker of something other than righteous fury on her face—eyes widen slightly, lips part just a smidge—a ghost of a smile, perhaps?

But it’s gone before you can confirm its existence—Yeji’s façade is maintained and all you get is a minuscule quirk of her eyebrow.

“The other guy was a car,” she says through gritted teeth.

“And now that car is being turned into scrap and I get to be in the presence of the most beautiful girl in all of Korea.”

“I hate you,” she replies, lovingly (you hope).

“Most beautiful girl in all of Asia?” You’re almost there, you can see it on her face.

“Still hate you.” An ease in tension—a slight drop of her shoulders, a relaxing of her grip.

“The world?”

A sigh, a frown slowly turning upwards, success! — “You’re an idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” you add, and that gets you a smile—a real, genuine, heart-stopping smile that lights up the room more than any fluorescent bulb could ever dream of.

“What am I going to do with you?” She’s shaking her head, letting you have your little victory.

“What would I do without you?” You ask, and she's rolling her eyes—nothing she hasn't heard you say before. “Certainly wouldn’t get to stay in a room this nice.”

Yeji blushes, her cheeks taking on the same shade of the excessive number of roses decorating your bedside. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Seriously, Yeji?” You say, and echo back to her, “look around.”

It’s Yeji’s turn to act coy—as if it’s perfectly normal for a hospital room to come with a flat-screen TV, designer furniture and floor-to-ceiling windows that offer a panoramic view of the city.

The room is closer to a luxury suite than a recovery ward—bigger than your apartment, even—and there’s a voice in the back of your head telling you to maybe risk another injury so you can maybe extend your stay even longer, especially if it means getting to have Yeji fuss over you like this.

“I might have called in a favour or two,” Yeji admits. “But they said this was the only room available!”

“Yeji, this is too much,” you say, but she’s already ignoring you, waving her hand dismissively.

“It’s nothing,” she says, rising off the bed and leaving you to your own devices, satisfied that you’ve been properly scolded.

But, you know better. While Yeji is like this with everyone she cares about—always giving, always putting others first—with you she gets especially intense with her caring, and as much as she’d probably deny it otherwise, you know that she’s more than a little smug at the sight of you laid up in this fancy hospital room, with nothing to do but let her pamper you.

“Sure, sure,” you say, but you can easily imagine her on the phone with every hospital in a fifty-kilometre radius, pulling strings left and right, leaning on the right people to get what she wants.

It’s just who Yeji is—no half measures, above and beyond in every aspect.

“I should unpack,” Yeji decides, retrieving a ridiculously oversized bag from the corner of your suite.

“Unpack?” You ask, but your question falls on deaf ears.

“I was halfway across the world when I heard what happened.” Yeji's clicking her tongue with annoyance as she struggles with the zipper for the bag. “Two days before I could get a flight out!”

“You didn’t have to rush—” you start to say, but Yeji whips her head around, a clear warning not to finish the very stupid sentence you’re about to complete.

“I didn’t have time to pack everything, just grabbed what I could from our place—” (your place, technically) “—and came straight here.”

Yeji instantly sets about your room, making sure that there isn’t a corner that hasn't been touched by her: your favourite tea brewing, the last book you were reading, a Bluetooth speaker playing her ‘songs to remind you of me’ playlist; every single thing you could possibly need to feel better.

It’s not even what she’s doing as she completes her takeover of your hospital room, it’s how she’s doing it.

She’s in her normal everyday uniform: one of your flannel shirts over a tank top that just so happens to ride up just right, showing off her toned midriff as she reaches to hang a change of clothes for you in the wardrobe. Then there’s the snug, tight yoga pants moulded to her curves that stretch over her unbearably firm ass every time she needs to bend over and take something else out from her bag.

It’s all too perfect to be accidental, and you start to get conspiratorial, like perhaps this innocent act of care is just a torturous reminder of your what you can’t have while you’re all laid up and injured.

She is dressed normally. But normal, everyday clothes for anyone else on someone like Yeji, with her body—all sleek muscles and tight lines—is absolutely devastating.

Yeji works fast, a tornado of love and care clad in a dangerous pair of leggings, and in minutes she’s done, adding a finishing touch by spraying her perfume around the room, overpowering the sterile hospital scent with the sweet, floral notes that are uniquely hers—this is her space now, anyway.

Finally, she stops at the foot of your hospital bed, picking up your medical chart, reading it like she understands it all (actually, knowing Yeji, she probably got her medical degree on the way to the hospital just in case she deemed the doctors and nurses weren't doing a good enough job and she decided to take over).

“Hm,” is Yeji’s summary of your current condition. It’s cute, seeing her stare at the clipboard with a focus she usually reserves for the stage. “Eating well, no signs of deterioration in fine motor skills, very responsive, and very… friendly?”

You raise an eyebrow. “They wrote that down?”

“Attending physician: Dr. Park Yoona, Nurses: Roh Ji Yun, Jeon Jeong ah, Bae Hye Jin,” Yeji starts to read out the list of names—female names—and you start to hear the nails being hammered into your coffin, “Nurse Kim Ji Won—seriously, like the actress? All women. Hm.”

“Really, I hadn’t noticed!” Maybe feigning ignorance would increase your chances of survival. “You’d think in this day and age there’d be more male nurses now though, right?”

“Hm,” it’s that noise again. “I’m glad to hear that while I was worried sick about you, desperately trying to get over here, you’ve been well taken care of. Must be nice surrounded by all these cute women in their little nurse outfits.”

“Oh, please,” you test a deflection, “they’re just doing their jobs.”

Yeji’s eyes bore into you. “One of these nurses dots her ‘I’s with love hearts.”

You can only sigh at your impending doom. It’s been a good life.

“Who do these women think they are?”

You switch up your strategy, trying another angle: “They’re medical professionals, Yeji, not strippers.”

“Right, medical professionals,” Yeji echoes, her tone thick with sarcasm, before she suddenly switches up, putting on her sweetest, and most uncomfortable, baby voice. “Oh no, such a big, strong man that needs help. Tell me where it hurts so I can rub it better for you!”

“Stop, stop,” you protest, as much as you would like her to rub it better, you still have your pride. “I barely even talk to them—they just do their check-ups and leave. I can’t even remember what they look like, they’re probably all just plain, old ladies.”

You regret the words as soon as you say them (you really should’ve seen this coming), because before you can get any further into your pitiful defence, the door to your room swings open, and in struts a young, cheery, bouncy woman.

“Is my favourite patient ready for another check-up?” You're already cringing at the nurse’s question—her voice a squeak that’s far too high-pitched and far too cute for a hospital. If anything, she looks like an actress playing the role of a nurse, in some bad movie where they clearly casted for looks over believability.

Yeji’s eyes widen at the sight of the new, endowed occupant of the room, and she reads the name on the nurse’s tag, pinned firmly over a set of scrubs that’s a few sizes too small, and you’re immediately reminded of her earlier threat to kill you with surprising clarity.

“Kim Ji Won,” Yeji reads out loud, before suddenly remembering herself, lowering a baseball cap over her eyes and slipping on a surgical mask, hiding her face from view. She turns away, pretending to fuss with the flowers on your bedside table.

“Oh!” The nurse exclaims, and you’re starting to feel the walls of what was once a luxurious hospital room start to close in. “I didn’t realise you had a guest,” she says, as light and cheerful as ever, “is she perhaps your… sister?”

Oh God, Yeji might really kill you after this. “No, no, no, she’s my—”

But Nurse JI Won ploughs onwards, having the gall (or lack of a sense of self-preservation) to turn to Yeji, and chat away. “Your brother has been the perfect patient! Me and all the other nurses just can’t get enough of him! He’s such a charmer!”

Yep. Definitely dying. It’s been a good life.

“Oh, oops!” Ji Won giggles, as she somehow drops the clipboard she was holding, sending papers scattering across the floor. “I’m so silly, give me a second to get it together!”

“No, no, it’s okay you don’t need to—” you try, but by now you should know better, “—bend over and pick it up.”

She’s already turned away from you, pointing her ass up and straight into the air, performatively picking up the pages one by one, taking her time so you can commit to memory the exact colour of the lacy thong peeking out of her pants.

It’s so blatant that you’re almost impressed, but compared to the practiced ease of your girlfriend, it’s a pale imitation. Still, your mind can’t resist making the comparison, even though there’s no ass in the world that can hold a candle to Yeji’s cheeks wrapped in sheer nylon.

Look at you, all loyal and shit—even in the face of all temptation, you’re still a committed boyfriend, through and through.

If only Yeji, who is now evaluating you with a glare as hot as a thousand suns, could know that your mind is filled with thoughts of just her… even as you're staring at Nurse Ji Won’s ass.

You’re dead. Dead. Dead. Dead.

“Aha, got it!” Ji Won is back on her feet, jumping with a cheer that suggests that maybe she could use a little more support, whilst completely immune to the sudden drop in temperature in the room. Yeji might as well be a ghost to her, the nurse looks only at you, scanning your body, searching for any new injuries that may have popped up since your last check-up.

If only she knew to just come back in an hour.

“It says here it’s about time to take out your IV!” Ji Won sunnily declares.

Consent isn’t a word that seems to exist in this nurse’s vocabulary, and she takes the opportunity to lean real close over you, pressing her ample chest against your side, making sure you get the full feel of her curves as she reaches across to the stand.

Of course, you don’t look—that would be insane. Instead your eyes are on Yeji, who’s definitely not looking at the nurse. No, she’s still boring a hole right through your skull, her hands holding a shredded flower, her knuckles turning white.

“Okay, that’s all done!” Ji Won chirps, and mercifully removes her breasts from your shoulder. “Hey, why are you acting all shy? You’re usually so much friendlier!”

“Oh?” Yeji makes a noise for the first time, and it terrifies you.

But again, the nurse pretends like she doesn’t even exist. “Let me check your heartbeat… And—”

“I’m sure it’s all fine and you can leave now, right—” You try a last-ditch effort to save this poor nurse’s life, but she’s clearly not taking the hint.

“Perfect as always, Mr. Metronome!” She says, writing down on her clipboard, clearly not noticing the seconds of her remaining lifespan ticking away. “We always talk about how you must work out so much to have a heart rate so low and consistent, I mean, obviously you do—look at you!”

You file her comments away as yet another reason your life is about to end, and try to push on, “so—I’m all good, right?”

“Of course you are,” Ji Won replies, turning the volume right up on the flirtiness, and her eyes flicker over to Yeji before she winks at you. “But I’ll just double-check everything before I go.”

“No, I think that’s enough!” Yeji breaks the conversation with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, and the poor nurse jumps from the sternness of her voice. “You said he’s fine, he said he’s tired, and so that means you can leave now!”

“Oh, he’s tired? Does he need extra pillows, or is there anything I can do to make him more comfortable?”

But Yeji already has her out the door, practically dragging the girl out of the room by her collar of her scrubs. “He’s fine!”

The door slams behind the nurse, but not before you hear her giggle, “Hey, you look familiar!”

An icy silence fills the room once the nurse is gone, thick and tense. Yeji doesn’t move for several beats, it’s eerie the way she just stands there, staring at the closed door of your hospital room.

Something clicks in her head, though, and she locks the door, turning back to you, seemingly having made a final decision on your fate.

“So…” you throw out a feeler, trying your best to move straight past, well, everything. “How’s the tour going?”

“Is she perhaps your sister?” Yeji’s voice jumps an octave, a perfect imitation of the high-pitched squeak that had just left the room. She turns to you, throwing the cap off her head and tearing the mask off her face. “Vomit.”

“I have no idea what that nurse was talking about,” you say, immediately making a case to plead your innocence.

“So gross!” Her words are dripping with pure disgust, but at least it isn’t directed at you (for now, anyway). “That’s it! We’re moving hospitals!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, calm down.”

“What is it with girls like that? Oh, you must work out a lot, I mean obviously you do!” Yeji continues her eerily uncanny impersonation. “Seriously, you’re an adult and you’re doing baby talk? ‘Perfect as always Mr. Metronome!”

“She’s just being nice, probably didn’t mean anything at all,” it’s a very weak argument you’re making, the only way the nurse could make her intentions more obvious were if she was wearing a bright neon sign that flashed ‘please fuck me!’.

“Bitch. Shameless! Hitting on my boyfriend in front of me. Acting so cute, so helpless—oops! I dropped my clipboard!” Yeji’s pouting now, fluttering her lashes, mimicking every blatant flirtation Nurse Ji Won had thrown your way.

“Really, we’re doing caricatures now?”

“Carica-what?” Yeji tilts her head to the side, and starts to sway her way over to you, her hips swinging from side to side with an exaggerated bounce. She’s playing it up to a T, making sure to sway, shake, to jiggle with each step she takes. “What does that word even mean? It’s such a big word. You must be really smart.”

Yeji settles into the role of the pretty, ditzy nurse far too easily, and her eyes tell you that she’s enjoying it far too much. For now though, you play along, clearing your throat and putting on your manliest voice—“I have been told I have a rather expansive vocabulary.”

“Wow, another big word,” Yeji’s at your bedside again, taking your hand into hers, looking up at you with wide-eyed awe. “Oh, you’re just so clever!” She giggles, as her other hand just so happens to come down on your thigh, leaving her free to squeeze and massage your muscles. “And so strong too! Do you work out?”

You grit your teeth as Yeji starts to trace her thumb in gentle circles over your skin, all the while staring up at you so innocently—she’s laying it on thick. “Sometimes…”

“I can tell…” Yeji continues, her voice trailing off as she runs her hand further up your thigh, light as a feather, but when she’s looking at you with those eyes and that smile, it’s if she’s dragging a live wire across your skin. You swallow hard, trying to keep your composure as she leans in closer, lets her top hang a little loose, lets you get a peek at the soft swell of her breasts, parts those full, pouty lips of hers, her fingers tracing the contour of your leg as she moves higher and higher and higher, until her fingertips are on your—“Unbelievable! I cannot believe that actually works on you!”

“That’s unfair!” You shout in surprise, letting go of a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding. “You can’t expect me not to react when you’re doing that!”

“Uh huh, I bet!” Yeji says, clearly not buying it. “You’re not at all attracted to the helpless, innocent, bouncy little slut that leans close so you can get a good view of her fat tits?”

“I’ll have you know I’m a singular pair of tits kind of guy.”

“This bitch,” Yeji curses under her breath, throwing her hands up in frustration. She unfortunately removes her hand from your leg, and plops herself down on your bed (it’s easily big enough for two), stewing in her emotions. You watch each cross her face: concern, jealousy, disbelief, a slight hint of amusement.

“Yeji,” you say, getting her attention, snapping her out of her thoughts. “You’re my girlfriend. I’m yours. That’s that.”

She stares back at you, her eyes light up at the declaration, and she punches your arm—your healthy one, of course. “You better be.”

It’s strange, seeing Yeji like this—so raw, so visibly affected by someone else’s attention on you. You’ve always thought of her as so strong, so confident, but there’s something in her possessiveness over you that is making you think about things that should definitely not happen in a hospital.

Fuck it, injuries be damned, without another word, you stretch forward and grab her by the waist, your good hand wrapping around her firmly, pulling her closer to you. She gasps, but doesn’t resist, no, she leans into your touch, her body melting into yours as if it’s been starved for affection.

You hold her tight, letting her settle into your embrace, and can only laugh at the ridiculousness of the situation you’re in. “You know, for someone who’s supposed to be taking care of me, you’re really not helping my blood pressure right now.”

“I’m still mad at you,” Yeji murmurs into your chest, but there’s no venom in her voice. Instead, it’s filled with something else entirely—something softer, more vulnerable. Her body relaxes against you, and you feel the tension in the room start to dissipate.

“Let’s not pretend that you weren’t enjoying acting like a helpless, little slut, Yeji,” you accuse, and Yeji’s cheeks flush a deeper shade of red. “I know you.”

“It’s your fault,” Yeji says, still hiding her face in your chest. “You and your ridiculous sexy nurse fantasy.”

“It’s a classic,” you shrug, before making an executive decision. “And this time, we actually have the right setting for it.”

Yeji looks around the room, shyly biting her lip. Again, all an act, she’s far too perceptive to not have the same thought on the forefront of her mind. “Here?”

“I saw you lock the door.” You catch the smirk that flashes across Yeji’s face. “Your mind is as filthy as mine, Yeji, I’m just better at vocalising it.”

“You think you can read my mind?”

“You know I can.” You lean in, your mouth finding hers in a soft kiss to prove your point—you didn’t need to ask to know that this is what she’s been after the whole time. Your lips find her forehead, “I can read your mind”—a kiss on her cheek—“your body”—and a whisper in her ear— “your pussy.”

You know you’re right by the hitch in Yeji’s breathing, how she leans into your touch, and when she straddles you without a second thought. Her thighs squeeze down against yours, the fabric of her yoga pants sliding against your hospital gown. She’s all soft curves and heat as she settles herself over you, her hands pressing down on your chest to keep herself steady.

“That nurse really riled you up, didn’t she?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Yeji steals another kiss from you, a moan muffled against your mouth. But yet, there’s the slight grind of hips—slow, deliberate friction, unbearable by design. “I’m just here to take care of my helpless boyfriend.”

“Yoga pants, Yeji. Again,” you say. “I saw it all. How you just so happened to need to stretch, or bend over, or lean just right,” you tease, even though it’s getting harder and harder to get your words out by the second. “You’re just as bad as her, only you’re way better at it.”

You kiss her again, this time with more urgency, the type of kiss you’ve been dying to give her since she first walked into the room, your tongue slipping into her mouth and tasting minty sweetness on her breath.

“And you look way fucking hotter than her when you do it, too.”

A smug smile plays on Yeji's lips as she's kissing you again. “I am the most beautiful woman in Korea.”

“The world,” you correct her.

“Goes without saying,” she finished. “’Extremely hot girlfriend’, if I remember correctly?”

“On fucking fire,” you summarise, and reach out to touch her, needing to feel her, but Yeji stops you placing your hand back on the bed.

She gives you a stern look, and shakes her head. “No, no, no. You’re the patient here, remember? You’re not allowed to do anything,” she says, her voice a mix of playfulness and authority. Yeji leans in closer, her breath hot against your ear. “You have to let the slutty nurse take care of you.”

You see it again—that switch—and Yeji gets more adventurous, cutting off your breath as she drags her hand down, sliding it under your thin hospital gown, walking her fingers back up your thigh. She stops just shy of your hardened cock, her eyes never leaving yours, revelling in your neediness for her, your want, before finally she takes a hold of you, her grip firm and tight and sure.

There’s heat in her palm, and she pulls a moan out of you and into her mouth as she starts to slowly stroke. It’s the softness of her hand against the growing stiffness of your shaft, her fingertips grazing your skin—you know you should be more careful, more considerate of where you are, but with Yeji’s touch, all rational thought is lost.

“I bet none of those bitch nurses could make you feel like this.” Yeji’s touch is a masterpiece of precision and passion, each movement calculated, practiced, she’s right—she’s the only one who knows how to touch you in just the perfect way to make you ache. Her fingers dance along your shaft, her grip tightening and loosening in a rhythm that only she can hear.

“I don’t even know who you’re talking about.” You groan, playing dumb, your mind filled with nothing but Yeji’s body on top of you, her fingers wrapped around you. “What other women?”

Yeji’s eyes narrow, but she can’t hold back her smile. “Good answer,” she whispers, rewarding you by moving faster now, each stroke deeper, more deliberate, reading your every reaction to the way she pumps you, timing her fingers with your stuttering breaths.

She likes—loves—taking care of you, making you feel good, there’s a thrill in it for her, knowing that she’s the one who can make you this vulnerable, this desperate. Her hand moves with confidence, her strokes become more insistent, her gaze hungrier, and she leans forward, pressing herself into your chest, letting you feel the softness of her breasts, the stiffness of her nipples through the flimsy fabric of her top.

“Does this feel good, honey?” She asks, like she doesn’t already know the answer, like she can’t feel your hips bucking up to meet her touch. "Do you like it when I take care of you?"

You nod, unable to form words, unable to do anything but keep your eyes on Yeji and marvel at just how fucking hot she is on top of you as she strokes you. Her hair falls in soft waves around her face, tickling your neck and cheeks, and her eyes—those piercing, all-knowing eyes—affixed to yours, holding you hostage.

“God, I love this cock,” Yeji murmurs between kisses against your cheek, your jaw, your neck, “so big, so hard… All mine…” She’s so satisfied, so happy with herself—with your cock—her constant praise as much for her as it is for you. “Fuck, look how big you’re getting for me, barely fits in my hand.”

“God, Yeji,” you gasp, struggling to keep together, to keep from losing yourself in the palm of her hand, as each of her strokes, each of her words, keep coming, stroking your cock, your ego, fucking with you completely. “I’m getting close—”

“Not yet.” Yeji lets you go, leaving you panting, your tortured cock standing tall and missing her attention.

Before you can even mount a protest, she’s sliding up your body, stretching above your head to grab the hospital bed remote, smothering you with the soft mounds of her breasts as she does so. You groan into her, forced to feel the weight of her pressing down on you, the warmth of her skin against yours, teasing you in a way that’s both infuriating and heavenly.

With a click, the bed whirs into action, reclining back until you're flat on your back, staring directly up at her. She kneels over your head, and there’s the outline of her pussy through the fabric of her leggings, all swollen and damp and begging for your tongue.

She doesn’t have to look to know she has your undivided attention—she's pulling her shirt and her top over her head, setting her breasts, ripe and full, bouncing free from their confinement. No bra today (of course she didn’t, what would be the fucking point?) and you get a full view of those perfect tits, her dark, pebbled nipples already stiff for you.

“It’s your turn to take care of me.”

Yeji lowers herself onto your waiting mouth, lets out a noise that’s so needy, so fucking greedy, as your lips meet her heat for the first time in what feels like an eternity.

“Fuuuuuuck…”

You kiss, lick, nibble at her, tease her, groan into her thighs, as she urges herself against you, making you breathe in the scent of her sex, so immediately wet for you.

It’s not nearly enough for either of you—you need to feel her against your lips, your tongue. You move your hand up her thigh and towards her hip, digging your fingers into her waistband. But Yeji stops you again, and says the four most pleasant words in any language. “Just fucking rip them.”

There’s no hesitation—she lifts her hips off your face, you snake your hand between her legs, take one end of the fabric between your fingers, and another in your teeth: one quick, sharp yank, and you tear. The nylon gives way with a satisfying rip, and Yeji shivers above you as the cool air hits her full, puffy, exposed cunt.

“Mmmph, yesssss,” Yeji hisses as you pull her back down onto your lips, shuddering as you kiss that lovely crease where her thigh meets her pelvis, her pleasure vibrating through your own skull. She quivers, shifts, needy for your lips on her naked pussy, and she pleads, “stop teasing… I need it…”

You smile against her skin, your breath ghosting over her pussy, making her squirm. "What's the magic word?"

"Now," Yeji says, her voice firm, her thighs so magnificently tense. "The magic word is now."

With that, you give her a long lick, starting from the very bottom of her pussy and moving upward, tasting every millimetre of her juicy cunt, tracing the entire length of her slit, ending with an indulgent flick of her clit.

“Fuuuuuuuuck,” Yeji cries out, shivering, falling apart as your tongue finds that sweet spot, her thighs tightening around your neck. Her hands come down to either side of your head, her fingers tangling in your hair, holding you in place as she starts to rock back and forth, setting her own rhythm, matching her hips with the pace of your tongue. “God, you’re so fucking good at that, always so fucking good at that.”

She’s whining, so, so desperate, so pleading, and you’re eager as you taste her, explore her, will her to come apart in your mouth. You’re taking generous licks, tongue dancing around her clit, teasing it, testing her full vocal range as she cries out your name

“Oh, please, please baby, fucking please.” She’s getting wetter and wetter, coating your tongue, your lips, your chin. “I missed this,” she gasps, grinding herself against your tongue, all desperation and utter awe. “Missed you making me feel so fucking good.”

You look up, up at her as she rides your face, she’s so fucking breathtaking. Her body tensing around you and on top of you—so tight, so firm—chiselled abs honed by decades of dancing, that gorgeous curve of her waist leading up to her perky, petite tits, so lovely, bouncing with every gasp she takes.

"I'm so wet for you, honey, so fucking wet," Yeji whimpers, “you always make me so fucking wet—I can’t—ah!”

A sharp inhale, you suck her clit into your mouth, flicking your tongue against the sensitive nub. She’s moaning so fucking loud, so unrestrained, echoing through the hospital room and down the hallways, loud enough to let every nurse on the floor know exactly how fucking good it feels to be on top of you. Her hips jerk, she can’t control her own body now, and you know she’s getting closer and closer, determined to ride your tongue right to the end.

Just looking at her is all it takes for you—seeing her so damn horny, so satisfied sets you on edge, needing something, anything to take your cock and match her euphoria.

“Do you want me to help you out, baby?” Yeji’s reading your mind. You groan and affirmative into the folds of her cunt, and in an instant, you go from being smothered by her juices to being faced with the full, perfect tautness of her ass.

She makes it look so easy, so graceful, lifting herself off your face and spinning around to this new position—face down, ass up.

A second later and your wishes are granted—your cock, so heavy with need, standing neglected and alone is met by Yeji’s soft, warm lips, kissing the very tip of you, tasting the drops of pre-cum that’s already leaking out of you.

“Let me make you feel better,” is all Yeji says—just one light kiss, a whisper into your cock, and she dives onto you, swallowing your cock whole. It’s far too much, far too quickly, you’re out of breath and ready to tap out as her warm, wet mouth envelopes your whole rod in one, smooth suck.

Her tongue swirls around you, her teeth grazing the sensitive flesh, she takes you deeper and deeper, until you’re buried down her throat. You throb inside her, her throat muscles contracting back around you, and you can’t help but thrust up into her mouth, seeking more, needing more.

“Yeji!” You cry out her name on reflex as she takes you in, her hands digging into your thighs as she works her mouth up and down, bobbing, taking you deep and noisily, smacking her lips, sloshing her tongue. Whatever pain you had lingering from your arm, your head, or your ribs, it’s all forgotten—there’s only Yeji, and her exquisite lips, doing everything she can to wring every drop of pleasure out from your body.

It's too much, too intense, and you’ve been on the edge since she first grabbed a hold on you. This can’t end now, not when she’s sucking you so hard, practically worshipping your cock. You need a distraction—pull her hips back, gently, firmly, push that beautiful ass back into your face and indulge in her again.

“Mmmph—!” Yeji moans into you as your tongue meets her cunt, the sound reverberating down your shaft and right into your brain.

And now it’s a competition—you push through her pussy with her tongue, feel her walls tightening around you. She’s pushing back into you, grinding down on you, making sure you get the full flavour of her cunt, her ass, every inch of her on your taste buds.

She’s more frantic now, moving faster, sloppier on your cock as you push her closer and closer to climax. Her tongue slides against you, her cheeks hollow out around you, she drools and dribbles down your shaft—it’s messy and wet and absolutely fucking amazing.

But you can’t let her win, not this time. You double down on your efforts, suctioning your lips over her clit and start rapidly flicking your tongue, setting a relentless pace that you know will make her crumble. She tries her best to keep up, to keep going, but she’s a mess of sucking and moaning and quivering all over your face and on your cock.

Yeji works her tongue, her lips, her mouth—she makes sure you know it’s all yours. But then, after taking you all the way to the back of her throat, your cock pops out of her mouth with a wet smack, and she lets out a cry of pure, unbridled ecstasy. “Fuck, I can’t, I can’t, I’m gonna—FUCK!”

She collapses, bent over and prone, only her ass rocking and grinding against your face as she utterly, completely falls apart, ruined by just your tongue, ruined by the orgasm you’re giving her.

“So good—God—fuck—keep going, keep going, keep going!” Yeji’s voice is a chant, a prayer that you’re more than happy to answer. She’s shaking, her pussy pulsing against your face as you lick and suck at her clit, clouding your mind with the heady mix of sweetness and desire that has you hooked. She’s lost, given up and given over to you now, her moans becoming screams—“your tongue, your fucking tongue—gah!”

Her body geos rigid, locking up as she hits that wonderful peak—but you’re not ready to stop. You keep licking, keep pushing through wave after wave of pleasure that crash over her, not giving a second of rest. Her juices flood your mouth and you swallow greedily, drinking her in like it’s the only medicine you need.

“Fuck—fuck—fuck—fucking making me feel so good—God!”

Nothing fucking matters, all you know is Yeij’s cunt is on your tongue and her ass is in your face, and your only job is to keep licking her to her core, until she finally goes slack, crumbling on top of you.

She stays like that, her legs shaking like she’s just run a marathon, her nipples squashed against your chest, her gasps hot and ragged against your thigh. You can feel the staccato of her heart, and you hold her close, massaging her lower back as she does her best to catch her breath.

And yet, there you are, still throbbing, still so fucking hard and delirious with your need for her touch.

There’s no point in hiding it, she’s so close you can feel her breath on your cock, your close enough to poke her eye out with how hard you are.

“Someone’s feeling left out,” she says, as if she’s not entirely to blame. “Is that for me?”

“You know it is,” you respond, far weaker, more pleading than you intended.

A gentle, torturous kiss against your thigh, and you’re just about ready to explode in her face. “Then I guess as your dutiful, loving, girlfriend, I better do something about it.”

It’s so easy for her—one moment she’s exhausted, out of breath on top of you, the next she’s fully recovered, back on top and mounting you, facing you as she smears the tip of your cock with her wetness.

You try to sit up, eager to get straight to it, straight to fucking her like you need to, but her hands are on your shoulders and she’s pushing you back down.

“Lie down, baby,” she hushes you, pressing you down onto the mattress. “Just enjoy this.”

Her eyes narrow as she drinks in the sight of you, bursting with anticipation as she lowers her pussy onto your cock. It’s a special kind of torment, one that makes your hips buck involuntarily, so impatient to feel her warmth again.

But she takes her sweet time, and it’s only when she’s close enough, she bends down, mouth hovering over yours. Your eyes drift shut, and you wait for that soft contact of her lips, but it doesn’t come.

Instead, she whispers, "I've got you," and you feel the warm, velvety embrace of her cunt as she takes you in, inch by agonising inch.

Fully seated, her walls close around you, and that’s when she kisses you hard, her tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth with the same aching hunger of her cunt around your cock.

She tastes so damn good, feels incredible—it’s been too long, and you want nothing but to grab her, hold her and slam her hips down onto yours and drive deeper into her, but your body won’t cooperate.

You can only lay there as she starts to move, her hips rocking back and forth, slowly, intentionally, having you seeing stars. And then, just when you think you can’t take it anymore, she lifts herself up off your cock, and in one swift motion, sinks herself straight back down, whispering “holy fuck yesss” against your lips.

She needs time to get used to you, used to your cock filling her whole again. “This fucking cock,” she bites your lip as she rides you, “always so big, always so perfect.”

Yeji has to take it slow, has to let her pussy stretch around you, adjust to you, before she can start to ride you, to fuck you like she really wants to. And she does want to—wants to claim you, erase any doubt about who is the one person that can fuck you like you deserve to be—so, so much.

Each movement down the length of your cock is faster than the one before, each moan into your mouth hotter, each clench of her cunt around yours so much tighter, until she’s fucking you in earnest—harder, faster.

“So thick, so, so, riiiiight,” Yeji groans.“I’ve missed this, needed this.”

She’s riding you like she’s been waiting for this forever, like this might be the last time, bouncing her ass up and down, her eyes hooded with lust, her hair a wild mess around her flushed face, her nipples swinging every time your hips meet.

“When you get better, honey, I need you to fuck me real hard,” Yeji whispers in your ear, her breath hot and tickling, thick with lust, her tight cunt milking you, keeping you on the edge of insanity. “But I’ll take care of you for now, I’ll take care of this cock—fuck I love it—I love you—I love that you’re mine.”

“You’re mine too, Yeji,” you groan back to her.

“That’s right—I belong to you and you belong to me,” Yeji punctuates her point with a hard slam of her cunt down onto your cock. "You're My. Fucking. Boyfriend."

She’s getting faster and faster now, picking up her pace, like she needs to prove something, to herself, to you, to the entire fucking hospital.

“Those other bitches can’t ride you like I do—can’t fuck you like I do,” Yeji’s panting, each word fucked out of her, coming out like a proud battle cry. She’s right, you’re sure of it—no one else can make you feel this way, no one else can take you, claim you like she can. She’s lost in it now, lost in the heat and the friction, her whole body consumed by a burning desire to show you just how good she is at this.

Yeji leans back, sitting upright, giving herself better leverage to bounce on your cock, giving you a better view of her body—all perfectly sculpted edges and soft curves—and those fucking perky tits. They’re stunning, just like the rest of her, and you reach for them on instinct, cupping the soft mounds, feeling the weight of them in your palm. Her nipples are so hard, erect, begging for your touch, and you don’t want to disappoint—could never—so you pinch and twist them, watching her face contort with pleasure, feeling her pussy tighten around you as she cries out.

“No one can take this big fucking cock like I can—down my throat, in my cunt.” It’s a declaration—loud and proud, for every single person in the hospital to know.

“Jealous?” You grunt out the word, hoarse, rough. “Thinking about me fucking other woman like I fuck you? Making them scream—making them cum as hard as I’m about to make you?”

You can see the twist in Yeji’s face, how her pupils dilate as your words sink in. There’s a war playing out on her face, jealousy and desire, the mere thought of you fucking other woman making her pussy spasm around you. “Oh, fuck you! You would ruin them, honey, they wouldn’t be able to take you. Or is that what you want to hear? Some cute bitch screaming: ‘oh baby, oh please, oh daddy, I can’t take it—I can’t take this big fucking cock!’”

There’s truth in the mockery, and there’s a dark thrill in Yeji’s jealousy. But now’s not the time for anything (or anyone) else but her—you’re too close, too far gone, your cock throbbing with the need to spill into her.

“Only I can take it, it’s mine, mine, mine.” She’s soaking you, so needy, so deep, so fucking filthy as she whines over your cock. “You better keep fucking me—only me—or I will make your life hell.”

“Show me then,” you challenge her, and you can see something flash across her eyes—something primal, something rough.

“I’m yours,” she declares again, riding you in a way that can only be described as pure art, her whole body moving in perfect harmony with a singular goal—to be absolutely wrecked by your cock. “All yours, nobody else’s. And you’re mine.”

It takes one hard pump into her tight, sweaty body and she’s falling into you, her body pressed on top of you, her forehead pressed against yours. It’s electric, the connection between your bodies, a jolt of pleasure surging through your cock and her cunt until all that matters is the feel of her fucking you like her life depends on it.

It’s love at every thrust, every gasp and moan. Nothing but Yeji on top of you, her soft skin pressed against you, her heartbeat racing against yours, her wetness coating your cock like a silk glove. Not just pleasure, you’re claiming each other—she’s whispering it in your ear, whispering your name like a promise, a declaration of war against anyone who would dare to come between you.

“Fuuuck.” Yeji bites down on your shoulder, digs her nails in your skin, squeezes her pussy around you like a vice. “I’m gonna do it again,” she mewls, “this cock—your beautiful cock—is gonna make me cum all over again.”

She’s chasing that precious feeling, desperate for it, her hips moving in erratic circles, determined to bring you with her. You can feel it too, the beginnings rising from the base of your cock, the tension in your balls. You want to hold on, to make this last, but at this point it’s like trying to hold back a tidal wave.

“Give—fuck—give me more!” Yeji’s eyes are squeezed shut; her mouth open in a silent scream as she grinds down on you, her body trembling with the effort to keep her balance. You can see the tension in every line of her body, how her abs clench, her toes curl. It's like watching a live wire, and you're the one holding the current. "Nobody can fuck me like you do—fuck—nobody can take you like I can!"

You wrap your arm around her shoulder, holding her tight, wrenching control from her, making her prove her words with every forceful thrust. You’re going to be in pain later, but fuck all that—Yeji’s so wet, so tight, so fucking hot—she’s a force of nature, and you’re just the lucky fuck that gets to be in the eye of the storm.

“You’re going to cum in me, now, okay? I’m going to cum so fucking hard and then you’re going to cum right inside me.” Yeji’s completely given herself over to you, letting you fuck her, use her, she’s all yours anyway. “Fuck-fuck-fuck-fuck!”

And then she’s there, her cunt gripping you like a fist, her walls pulsing and quivering around you. Yeji’s eyes fly open, her gaze locks onto yours, and she’s cumming hard.

Her orgasm rips through her body, she’s choking your cock with pussy, muscles tightening and release in a painful rhythm, and all she can do is shake and cry out every filthy word she knows, every sweet noise she can make as she spills and creams and comes apart on top of you.

“It’s too much,” Yeji’s barely holding on, panting incessantly, “too-fucking-much—too-fucking-much!”

The way she looks, the way she fucks, the way she cums—it’s a thing of beauty, an absolute fucking honour to witness—every twitch, every shiver, every gasp that falls from her swollen lips. Her nails pierce your skin, her teeth threaten to draw blood, her eyes wide and wild as her climax crashes over her.

“Please-please-fucking-please!”

But she doesn’t stop. If anything, she’s becoming more insistent, more urgent, fucking back against you again, her hips moving in a blur, taking you like a woman possessed. She’s pleading for you, pleading for you to give in, to let go, to follow her into bliss. Yeji’s a woman on a mission—to make you feel her, to make you fill her and you realise that maybe this isn’t just about jealousy anymore—it’s about making you know in every fibre of your being that your cum belongs in her cunt and her cunt only.

"Give it to me," Yeji demands, “I need you to—please—fuck—cum in me!”

Every word’s a trigger, sending you spiralling over the edge. It’s been building for an eternity now, an unbearable pressure needing to find a home in Yeji’s scorching, sopping wet pussy.

“Kiss me—I need you to—need to taste—fuck—please—kiss me now!”

There’s nothing left to do but obey, bringing your hand to the back of her neck and pulling her down into a fierce, bruising kiss. Your mouths crash together, your tongues dance and entangle, your teeth clash, and all the while Yeji’s clenching around you, cunt contracting in an effort to keep you still, keep you together.

“Fill me.”

A final, triumphant spear into her and your gone—releasing, spurting your cum deep inside her—so hard, so hot, so intense, emptying everything, all of you, every last drop into her greedy pussy.

“Yesssssss—this—this is what I needed.” Yeji hums a satisfied note into your collarbone, so full, so complete, so content. She’s still slowly rocking her hips back and forth, still pulsing around you, milking you dry. “I feel so…full.”

She dissolves into a puddle in your arms, nuzzling her head into the crook of your neck. Your hand finds its way to her back, tracing gentle circles, rubbing away the tension that’s been built up, the strain she’s put her body through.

She’s warm, she's so alive, and you can feel her heart beating against your chest, a stilted, hurried rhythm that's gradually slowing down. You kiss her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, anywhere you can reach without having to strain yourself. It’s a gentle reassurance, making sure that for all the fucking and the filthiness, she knows that no matter what happens, you’re there to make sure she’s okay.

Yeji whispers an “I love you,” her words like a balm to your soul. “I really, really, fucking love you, you know?”

“I know, Yeji,” you say, low enough for only her to hear. “I really, really, fucking love you too.”

There’s still the embers of your shared climax resonating through your bodies, the come down from an epic high that’s left the two of you a tangled mess of limbs and hospital sheets. You both lay there, Yeji’s pussy still spasming around your cock, your cum and her juices dribbling down and pooling between your bodies.

“I was really worried about you.” Yeji whispers, vulnerable. The admission hangs in the air above you, a stark reminder of the fear and insecurity that’s been simmering just beneath the surface. “When they called me, I thought—I—I fucking hated that feeling.”

“I’m sorry,” you say. It’s all there is left to say.

“And I am really pissed about these nurses,” Yeji adds with a deadly seriousness, that only makes you smile. “I’m moving you to another hospital as soon as I can.”

“We just might have to after this,” you murmur, stroking her hair as you catch your breath. “No way they didn’t hear any of that.”

“Good.” Yeji declares, a little too intensely, too smugly.

You look down at her and can’t help but chuckle. “Well aren’t you all happy and copacetic now?”

Yeji looks back at you, pauses, and then grins. “Copa-what-tic?”

You can only roll your eyes. “Copacetic.”

“Wow,” Yeji starts, her voice back up an octave, laced with sickly sweetness. “Such a big, complicated word. You’re so smart.”

“Uh huh.”

“And these muscles too! Look at you all pumped and sweaty. Have you been working out?” Yeji teases, her cheeks still flushed a bright pink shade. She reaches down to give your bicep a gentle squeeze, mouthing an exaggerated ‘wow’ in amazement of its size.

“I did just finish a pretty intense workout. Might’ve even got another concussion from having my brains fucked out.”

“In that case, as your nurse it’s my responsibility to get you good and clean.” Yeji’s kissing you again, soft and slow. “Come on now, let me give you a good, nice scrub.”

“Is this going to be a reciprocal thing, you wash my back, I wash yours?”

“Why don’t you come with me and find out?” Yeji slides off your cock, peeling herself off your sticky body, and lifts herself up and off the bed.

You watch as she stretches, her body a glorious mess of grace and sweat and cum, and for a moment you’re just in awe of her. She’s glowing, and she’s not even trying.

“Aren’t you going to join me?” Yeji winks, already sauntering away from you and towards the bathroom, her hips swaying, her ass calling for you with each perfect bounce. “It’s time for some serious physical therapy. Nurse’s orders.”

#kpop smut #yeji smut #itzy smut #male reader

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diz-eaze · 9 days ago

Text

online friend kinich

; and how he's closer to you than you thought.

; yandere, modern au, creepnich agenda, invasion of personal space, stalking, kinich is on his freak game, not proofread.

other people fear spiders and the murky depths of the sea. but you fear something else.

you can count the number of friends you have with just one hand, the single digit a direct result from your vehement avoidance of social interactions and fear of the outside. the idea of speaking to another person in public causes your throat to seize, your hands to clam up, and your knees to buckle. being perceived beyond a characterization you deem acceptable is too much for you to bear.

as a child, you were told the dangers of strangers, along with tales your aunt told of kidnappings, murder, and accidents that happen on the road, all of which have kept you awake at night countless times.

but children grow up, they abandon these fears to progress in their life. unfortunately for you, the fear sticks like a second skin, even burrowing beneath the surface and penetrating deep into your soul.

instead, you retreat. you keep yourself locked inside the comfort of your room, too scared to take a single step.

while your education still begrudingly takes place on campus, your already few friends can only access you through discord messages and tiktok streaks since you're gone with the wind as soon as dismissal rings. within the bleak, dark walls of your abode, accompanied by shelves lined up with merchandise of your favorite media, you only feel safe here. in here, there are no white vans or judgmental eyes.

besides, anonymity online allows you to act in a way that your peers would never expect you to be; it allows you to be yourself for other strangers to accept without risking your safety.

really, this is the only world that you need.

today, you fought with one of your friends over your lifelong fears. she had insisted that the solution was for you to go out more, and you blatantly shut all of her ideas down with a repeated anxious shake of your head. she persisted, but you stood your ground, even if your voice was shaky.but you're weak, so it ended with you running out of the classroom in tears. her scathing remark leaves a burning sensation in your throat, trapping the sobs that wish to escape.

she doesn't - couldn't - understand.

it's a mantra that envelops your mind when you harshly shut the door to your room, unalthletic lungs desperately heaving in oxygen to regain your bearings. tears stain your face, but you don't even bother to wipe them off when your legs maneuver you infront of your monitor.

it's practically muscle memory now; you turn on your computer, type in your password, open up discord, and your fingers dance around the keyboard as you type up a message to the only person who can truly understand you.

almightydragonlord1111.

a silly username, one that still manages to invoke a laugh to bubble out your throat even if cracked at the edges. he had explained to you once that he created his account back in middle school, hence the cringe-inducing title.

you never bothered to ask for his real name. he had offered once in the past, but you refused. you like the split between knowing all his vulnerable thoughts, yet not even knowing what his real name is or what he looks like. perhaps it makes it easier for you to hypothetically leave behind this stranger who knows everything about you, should a day like that come.

kal3idoscope: hi, almightydragonlord1111 can i vent for a min? only if ur not busy ofc. sorry lol idk anyone else to approach. haha.

leaning back into the cushion of your gaming chair, you release an exhausted sigh.

a second only passed when his reply came.

almightydragonlord1111: hey, of course it is.

almightydragonlord1111: you can even call me if you want :) i'm here for you, always.

kal3idoscope: i'll stay with venting thru dms haha

kal3idoscope: but thank u, seriously ☹️💘

and you do, you tell him of your deep-rooted frustrations, your fight with your friend, and being torn between staying in the comforts of your room or finally taking that first step to face the world. you tell him of how terrified you are to be viewed through the lenses of another person. you tell him everything, your feelings spilling over each sentence and letter typed.

when you finish sending it all, it takes him a couple of minutes to process the sheer amount of text you've made him read through, and you watch with abated breath, staring at his icon.

almightydragonlord1111: ... wow

almightydragonlord1111: honestly, i can see both sides of the argument

almightydragonlord1111: it's not like you asked to be afraid of these things. i get it. but at the same time, not everyone is out to get you?

almightydragonlord1111: and i don't mean that in a demeaning way, i promise

almightydragonlord1111: still... ultimately, she's right, you know. maybe you don't need to enjoy going outside after just one trip... but just take it step by step, yeah?

you know deep down that your friend was right to an extent, but being told of the reality by someone you deeply trusted stung your heart. you don't even know why you're hurt by it - maybe deep down, you wanted him to agree with you and take your side. but you suck in a deep breath, trying your best to not let your hurt shine through.

kal3idoscope: orfkrerbrnfvmkr

kal3idoscope: AHHHHHHHHHHHH

kal3idoscope: ok ok maybe im a bitttt too paranoid, thats fair 😭😭

kal3idoscope: but idk really know where to start eekkkkkk

almightydragonlord1111: hmm

almightydragonlord1111: maybe somewhere local for now?

almightydragonlord1111: you can even bring a friend with you if you feel too unsafe

kal3idoscope: oh

kal3idoscope: no need :')

kal3idoscope: i dont think i can talk to them rn

kal3idoscope: but yeah! ill try some cafes around my area :D maybe tomorrow or next week idk fkvvmkrni

kal3idoscope: thnx almightydragonlord1111, srsly

almightydragonlord1111: no prob :)

almightydragonlord1111: anyways, you up for valo?

kal3idoscope: always 🤓💯

you push the issue to the back of your mind, for now enjoying your time spent with him.

a week later, as you promised to almightydragonlord1111, you find yourself in a secluded corner of a cafe not far from your house. for once, you're outside for a reason other than school. sinking into the plush cushions, you obsessively eye anyone passing by, checking for any dangerous object they may carry on their person.

you probably look crazy to some of them, and the idea makes you wince.

you force yourself to stop looking like some creep once you realize that there are fewer people inside the cafe than you previously thought. soon, your body begins to relax after your mind has been on overdrive since you entered the establishment.

your order arrives, bid with a wobbly "thank you" from your lips, and you plug your earphones in. several minutes come to pass while you idly mess around on your laptop, trying to see how long you can last out in public.

30 minutes in, a hooded figure opens the glass door to the cafe, causing the chime to ring: a newcomer, it signals to the workers. you hadn't cared, eyes too preoccupied and with the music blasting in your ears as you tried to get used to the new environment.

but then the sound of a metal chair scraping against the floor as it's pulled back is heard through your earphones. you snap your eyes over to check, only to visibly flinch back upon seeing that the hooded figure chose to sit right next to you out of all the other available tables.

your body tenses up once again, spine set in a perfect vertical line as you try to rationalize the situation in your head. you survey the hooded figure from the corner of your eyes, noting the neon highlights in the outfit and that their face can't be seen at all, covered up by a black face mask and sunglasses. still, a silver dangling earring peeks out every now and then from his occasional movements. and his body figure isn't the burly type, though you know better than to underestimate a complete stranger.

who's to say they don't have sharp objects hidden beneath the layers of clothing? you shudder in terror, body unconsciously inching away from them.

unpredictably, they inch closer.

you suck in a sharp breath, extremely alarmed. the hooded figure must have heard it because you hear an amused huff shortly after. it only serves to turn your blood ice-cold.

as if to egg you on, they advance once more, leaving you with no room to exit as you're already pressed up by the corner.

shaking, you now know that you're not being paranoid - this person is really out to get you. your shaking fingers grip onto the cotton material of your graphic t-shirt, already feeling tears welling up in your eyes. you really shouldn't have gone outside today.

they shuffle closer, and you whimper out in trepidity.

on the table, you spy your laptop and phone on standby but too far away for you to grab. if you could, you would've opened up discord and frantically messaged almightydragonlord1111 your local area to call the authorities. sadly, there's no one here to help you.

you close your eyes, begging for an employee to glance over the corner of the cafe and see that you're in clear distress. but zero prayers are answered as their body soon comes into contact with yours.

they chuckle, a boyish tone that leads you to believe that this person is a man. he breathes down on your neck, chest heaving in a repeated up and down motion. the hot air of his breath hits your nape, and you shudder in disgust.

the world feels as if it's closing in, limiting the space until it can only hold you and this terrifying stranger. every second that ticks by only adds to your increasing anxiety, furthering your fear of the outside world once this situation comes to pass.

you should tell him to stop - to leave you alone. you should be angry, snarling out profanities and berating this guy for having the audacity to even come close to you.

but all that trickles out of your lips is a whisper, a plea: "please... leave me alone. please."

the hooded figure pauses, and you feel his stare bore into you, piercing through your clothes in order to truly peer in. a few deafening seconds cruise through, and a bead of sweat rolls down your temple.

finally, his body departs from yours, allowing you to finally exhale in relief. you watch with rapt attention as he languidly stands up, stretching his limbs and his silver earring even glinting against the overhead light. soon, he walks out of the cafe, leaving your heart wrapped in dread, not even ordering once.

your hands quickly grab hold of your phone and laptop, frantically shoving everything into your bag as you hastily exit the cafe with shaky knees. you hail a taxi, wanting to be in the comfort of your house as soon as possible.

once inside your abode, you bolt straight for your room, ignoring the inquiries of your older sibling. you shut the door with a loud bang, locking it for safe measure. you feel your legs give up on you, and you fall to the floor in a graceless manner. you try to inhale as much oxygen as your lungs would allow.

breathe in, breathe out. breathe in, breathe out.

the sound of your notifications going off breaks through your spiraling mental health.

you move to sit up. fishing for your phone, your quivering breath turns labored when you see the message isn't coming from any of your social media, but from your phone's text messages itself.

someone found your phone number.

unknown number: it was nice to finally see you in person :) my real name is kinich, by the way.

unknown number: i hope we can share a conversation face-to-face next time.

unknown number: i'm glad you didn't bring a friend with you, it was just the two of us :)

you were right.

there really is something to fear about the world beyond your room.

#another kinich drabble when i was supposed to do ifa.... sowrry </3 #outro's interlude <3 #tw yandere #tw stalking #yandere genshin impact #yandere #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere kinich #kinich #kinich x reader

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4linos · 3 days ago

Text

even if it’s a secret 2.

bang chan x manager!reader

synopsis: you’re the group’s manager. he’s a member. and falling for each other wasn’t part of the job description, but it happened anyway.

warnings: angst, emotional tension, forbidden romance, mutual pining, fluff.

wc: 4787

[even if it’s a secret 1]

“I think we should break up.”

It was like you had slapped him.

The air shifted instantly. You saw the words hit him in real-time, his eyes widened, his face blanked, and then… something behind them shut down. Fast.

“What?”

His voice came out hoarse. Disbelieving.

You looked down, trying not to cry, not yet.

“I think it’s time.”

“No,” he said, almost too fast. “No, what happened? What—did I do something?”

“No,” you said quickly. “It’s not you, it’s not that.”

He stepped toward you, hands half-raised like he wanted to grab you, shake the truth out of you.

“Then why? Why are you doing this?”

You couldn’t tell him what Minho told you. You couldn’t tell him how your every move felt monitored, how the risk was thick in the air, how the secret was burning a hole in your chest. If you told him that, he’d do what he always did, he’d try to fix it.

You didn’t want fixing. You wanted protection.

“I’ve just… I’ve been thinking about it,” you said instead, trying to steady your voice. “And it’s too risky now. We’ve already pushed our luck.”

He stared at you like he didn’t recognize you.

“So that’s it?” His tone cracked sharp, but laced with disbelief. “You’re just going to give up?”

“I’m not giving up,” you said, more firmly now. “I’m being smart. Practical.”

He scoffed, taking a step back. “Smart? Practical? You’re the one who told me we could make this work. You told me we’d be careful, that it’d be okay.”

You felt tears prick at the corners of your eyes. “Things changed—”

He cut in, voice louder now. “No, you changed. You didn’t even try to talk to me about this. You just made this decision and dropped it on me like—like it’s nothing.”

“That’s not fair—”

“If you loved me,” he said, stepping forward, “you wouldn’t be doing this.”

Your chest caved. That sentence hit harder than you expected.

“I do love you,” you said, almost a whisper. “I love you so much it hurts.”

He looked at you, eyes blazing. “Then why are you throwing us away?”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. The words were too tangled.

He pressed his hands to his temples, pacing. “You’re not making any sense. We’ve been fine. No one’s even suspicious—”

“Yes, they are,” you snapped. “They are watching. They know something’s up, Chan.”

He froze.

You immediately regretted saying it.

His voice dropped. “What do you mean?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly. “It’s not—”

“What do you mean they know something’s up?”

“Just let it go,” you said, louder. “Please.”

He stepped forward. “No. Who said something? What happened?”

“I’m telling you, just drop it—”

“No, you drop it,” he snapped, his tone full of frustration. “Why do you get to decide for both of us? You’re acting like we’re caught, like it’s over, and it’s not.”

“It is if we don’t stop now!” you shouted.

Silence.

“Fine,” he said quietly. “Then let’s go to the company. Let’s talk to them. Maybe—maybe it won’t be as bad as you think.”

You felt your heart splinter at that. Because even now, after everything, he still wanted to fight for you.

But you couldn’t do it.

“No,” you said, shaking your head. “Just give it up.”

And then it happened.

The words flew from your mouth before you could catch them, unfiltered, raw with emotion you didn’t really mean:

“This relationship was a mistake. Being with you was a huge mistake from the beginning.”

He froze.

The pain on his face was immediate, visceral.

His jaw clenched, eyes wide and wet, but not with tears. With anger. With betrayal.

You opened your mouth to take it back, but he held up a hand.

“No,” he said, voice hard and trembling. “Don’t.”

You shook your head, stepping toward him. “Chan, I didn’t mean—”

He backed away, shaking his head.

“You think being with me was a mistake,” he repeated, like he was trying to believe it. “Alright.”

“Chan, wait—”

“If you want to break up, then fine,” he said. “So be it. Good luck keeping things ‘safe.’ I hope that helps you sleep at night.”

And before you could say another word, he turned and walked out.

The door slammed behind him, harder than it ever had before.

You stood there, breathless, feeling the silence echo through the apartment like an aftershock.

The words you said, mistake, hung in the air like smoke. And you couldn’t un-say them. You couldn't pull them back. You could only hope, somehow, that they didn’t burn everything down forever.

The apartment was painfully quiet after he left.

You stood in the center of your living room, your heart racing as if the fight was still happening like the sound of his voice still echoed off the walls. You hadn’t even changed out of your work clothes. Your bag was still slung over your shoulder. The door still vibrated slightly from the way he’d slammed it shut.

The word mistake wouldn’t stop repeating in your head.

You said it. You meant something else. But it had come out like poison, like the only defense you had left.

You didn't cry. Not right away.

First, you sat on the couch, hands still shaking. Your mind replayed everything: the way he looked at you when you said those words. The way he shut down. The door slamming.

Your stomach twisted.

He wasn’t just upset. He was hurt. And you had done that.

You didn’t sleep that night. Or the next one.

You didn’t answer his calls, not because he was calling, but because he wasn’t. He hadn’t texted, hadn’t tried to reach out, hadn’t even opened your last message. It felt like something you’d gotten used to calling him every night, checking in, laughing for a few minutes even on the hardest days. Now, that quiet was all you had.

Work was the worst kind of unbearable.

He didn’t look at you.

Not in passing. Not in meetings. Not when you helped hand out water bottles or go over schedules. If the other members noticed, they didn’t say anything, not even Minho or Jisung, though they looked at you differently. Like they knew.

Like they knew something had broken.

Chan was different, too. Colder. Not to the members, he still smiled at them, still offered help, still stayed behind at the studio. But his smile didn’t reach his eyes, and he barely said more than a polite thank-you to any staff member.

To you, he said nothing.

He had always looked out for you, even when you weren’t near him. His glances, the subtle touches when no one was looking, the texts asking if you got home okay. They were gone now. He didn’t check. He didn’t ask. And part of you hated yourself for wanting him to, even after what you said.

You thought, maybe, with time, things would soften.

But a week passed. Then another. And the silence only got louder.

Until you were walking past the hallway near the main studio room when you heard his voice low, tired, but unmistakably his.

“Minho, just drop it.”

You paused, back pressed against the wall before your name caught your ears.

“She’s miserable,” Minho said. “You think she wanted it to end like that?”

There was a beat of silence.

Then Chan replied, flat and tight:

“She said it was a mistake. I’m just giving her what she wanted.”

Your lungs stilled.

Minho sighed. “You know she didn’t mean that.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Chan muttered. “She still said it.”

You didn’t hear the rest.

You couldn’t.

You backed away, your breath catching in your throat. You couldn’t face him, not like this, not when he still believed that you thought being with him was a mistake.

The truth was…

You never thought that. Not once.

It wasn’t a mistake to love him. It was the most terrifying, most beautiful thing you’d ever let yourself do.

The mistake was letting fear speak louder than love.

And now, that fear had left you with nothing but silence.

You didn’t expect anyone, not really.

Part of you, the part still clinging to the shred of hope you hadn’t yet managed to smother wanted it to be him. Maybe Chan would finally show up like he used to, with that nervous energy, the way he always looked like he couldn’t stand to be away from you for too long. Maybe this would be the moment he’d say he couldn’t take the distance anymore. That he was done pretending he could stay mad.

But another part of you, the rational part that had been screaming at you for days knew better.

So when the knock came, you hesitated.

You crossed your living room slowly, hands wiping anxiously on your sweater, bracing yourself for either relief or disappointment. You opened the door and blinked in surprise.

“Hey!” Jisung chirped brightly, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, grin wide like this was completely normal.

You froze. “Jisung…?”

He stepped in without waiting for a full invitation, his eyes scanning the space before nodding in approval. “Damn, it is nice in here. Why didn’t I get invited over sooner?”

You closed the door behind him, but didn’t move from your spot as you stared at him with wary confusion. “What… are you doing here?”

He looked at you, then around your apartment again, and then sighed dramatically before collapsing onto your couch like he’d been carrying the weight of the whole group. “Chan’s miserable,” he said simply. “Like, really miserable.”

Your heart did a little painful twitch in your chest.

Jisung turned his head toward you, eyes softer now. “And so are you. Figured I’d come be your free therapist or something.”

You couldn’t help it, a tiny laugh escaped you, worn out and tired. “You’re gonna play couples counselor now?”

He nodded, all mock-serious. “Yup. Unlicensed, unqualified, but extremely nosey. I’m the best kind.”

You folded your arms loosely and gave him a half-smile. “You can’t counsel a couple that doesn’t exist anymore.”

His face fell immediately. “Wait, what?”

You lowered your gaze to the floor and nodded once. “He didn’t tell you? We broke up.”

The words came out too fast, too plain. Like you’d trained yourself to say them without letting them burn on the way out.

Jisung sat up straighter, his eyes wide. “I thought you two were just fighting,” he said. “You’ve fought before. I mean — yeah, it was bad this time, but you—”

“It’s different now,” you cut in softly, walking past him to sit on the edge of the armchair across from the couch. You wrapped your arms around your knees and rested your chin there, suddenly feeling very small. “We said a lot of things we didn’t mean. Or maybe we did. I don’t even know anymore.”

He frowned, watching you quietly. “What happened?”

You were quiet for a moment. Then, voice soft and unsteady, you said: “The company… I think they’re catching on.”

Jisung blinked. “Catching on to what, exactly?”

“To us,” you said. “Minho overheard something. He warned me. I’ve been more careful, but… I felt like someone was always watching me. Like I couldn’t even breathe right without it getting reported back to someone higher.”

Jisung’s brows furrowed in concern.

“I didn’t tell Chan. I didn’t want him to do anything reckless. You know him, he always does something. He’d talk to the company, or throw himself in front of me if it meant protecting me. I couldn’t let him do that.”

“So you broke up with him instead,” Jisung said quietly, the words landing like they made sense now.

“I told him it was a mistake. That being with him was a mistake.” You choked on the confession. “And I didn’t mean it. I didn’t. I just… I panicked. I didn’t know what else to do.”

Jisung rubbed the back of his neck and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “You know… I don’t think he meant to walk away either. I think he just didn’t know how to fight for you when it felt like you didn’t want to be fought for.”

You looked up at him, eyes stinging.

“He loves you,” Jisung said plainly. “Even now. Even if he’s pissed, or hurting, or stubborn. I see it. He doesn’t even bother hiding it anymore, not from me, not from Minho. Not even from himself.”

You smiled sadly. “It doesn’t change the fact that we’re a secret that could ruin both of us.”

“No offense, but you’ve been a secret for ten months and somehow managed not to burn the company down.”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “But it’s getting harder. It’s not just hiding it from the company, it’s hiding it from ourselves. Hiding the fact that we can’t even act like we know each other outside of work. Hiding how much it kills me to pretend he’s just another artist I manage.”

Jisung’s eyes were soft. “So why did you tell me all this now?”

“I didn’t expect you,” you admitted. “But I think I needed someone to tell me I wasn’t crazy.”

“You’re not,” he said simply. “You’re just in love.”

You wiped a hand under your eye quickly, brushing away a tear that threatened to spill. “And scared.”

He smiled at that. “Well, yeah. Love’s terrifying.”

You let out a shaky breath and leaned back into the chair. “So what now? You giving me advice or something?”

He grinned. “Only if you want it.”

You looked at him. “Hit me.”

“Talk to him.”

You groaned and dropped your head back dramatically.

“No, seriously,” he said, suddenly more serious. “Talk to him. Not in passing. Not when someone else could pull him away. Talk to him. You guys built something real even if it’s quiet and messy and a little terrifying. Don’t let fear make all of this mean nothing.”

You were quiet, thoughtful.

Jisung stood and stretched. “Anyway. That’s enough emotional labor for me for one night. I’m gonna go binge something brainless and forget I just cried on your couch.”

“You didn’t cry,” you said.

“Not yet,” he quipped, pointing at you before heading to the door.

But before he left, he turned back around. “He’s waiting, you know.”

“Chan?”

He nodded. “Even if he acts like he’s not. Even if he tells you there’s nothing to talk about. He’s waiting.”

And with that, Jisung left you alone again, but this time, with a little less fear and a little more clarity.

You didn't sleep that night.

Even after Jisung left and your apartment returned to its usual, suffocating silence, your thoughts stayed loud.

Everything he said repeated in your head like a looping track. “He’s waiting.” “Don’t let fear make all of this mean nothing.” You turned those words over and over until they felt bruised.

You knew you couldn’t ignore it anymore. Couldn’t pretend it didn’t matter.

You had to talk to Chan. Even if he didn’t want to talk to you.

You waited until the next afternoon, not because you were avoiding him, but because you needed to find the right moment. Or maybe you just needed to find enough courage.

He was tucked in the corner of the studio hallway, leaning over his phone outside a conference room door. His cap was low on his head, a mask pulled up over half his face, but you knew him. You knew his posture. His energy. You could feel it before you even made a sound.

He looked up when he saw you approaching.

And just like that, everything inside you twisted.

He looked tired. And not just in the usual idol-who-never-sleeps kind of way. He looked emotionally exhausted. Like something in him had been unsettled since that night you told him everything was a mistake.

You stopped a few steps away.

“Can we talk?” Your voice came out softer than you intended.

Chan blinked. His eyes were unreadable. “About what?”

You felt your chest tighten. “About us.”

He looked down again, jaw tense. “There is no us.”

“Chan—”

“I told you,” he cut in, “there’s nothing to talk about.”

His tone wasn’t cold, it was guarded. But that only hurt more. Because this wasn’t some stranger trying to push you away. This was the same person who used to text you late at night just to say he missed your voice. Who would send you a voice memo of some unfinished melody and say, “It’s missing something, probably you.”

You took a step closer. “Can you just… not shut me out yet?”

He didn’t look at you, but his hands clenched at his sides. “Why? So you can tell me again how it was all a mistake?”

You flinched.

“I didn’t mean that,” you said quickly. “You know I didn’t.”

“Do I?” His voice was tight. Bitter. “Because it sure sounded like you did.”

You hated this, hated the way his voice trembled under the anger like it was barely holding itself together. Hated how all of this was your fault.

You stepped in front of him, forcing him to either look at you or move. “I panicked, Chan. I was scared. I’ve been scared. Of everything. Of being caught. Of losing my job. Of ruining your name. Of ruining you.”

He didn’t say anything.

You swallowed hard. “I didn’t tell you about what Minho said because I knew you’d try to fix it. And I didn’t want you to get hurt. That’s all I’ve been trying to do this whole time, protect you.”

“Then why didn’t you trust me to protect you back?” he snapped suddenly.

You froze.

His eyes finally met yours. “Why didn’t you tell me? Why didn’t you talk to me before deciding to throw everything away?”

Your lip trembled. “Because I didn’t know how. I was so worried I couldn’t think straight, and I thought—” You paused, voice cracking. “I thought if I cut it off first, it would hurt less. For both of us.”

Chan let out a breath a short, humorless laugh. “Yeah? How’s that working out for you?”

You winced.

He looked away again, arms crossed now, as if trying to hold himself together. “You don’t get it. You think I don’t know the risks? You think I don’t think about them every day? I do. But every time I think about what I might lose, the only thing I keep coming back to is you.”

Your eyes blurred, throat tight. “Chan…”

“I was willing to risk it because you’re worth the risk,” he said, quieter now. “But if you don’t believe the same, if you think being with me was a mistake then what’s left for me to fight for?”

There it was. Raw. Bare. Unguarded.

And it hurt.

Because the only thing worse than losing Chan was knowing you were the reason he started to believe he wasn’t worth fighting for.

You closed the space between you before he could move away. “It wasn’t a mistake,” you said, voice shaking. “Being with you has been the best thing that’s happened to me. I just let fear win. I let it control me, and it made me say things I didn’t mean because I thought it was the only way to keep you safe.”

His eyes searched yours now, the fury in them starting to crack.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Minho. I’m sorry I didn’t trust you to handle it with me. I’m sorry I hurt you, because I know I did.”

Chan didn’t respond right away.

But you could see his breathing shift. Slower. Deeper.

Then finally, softly: “Do you… still want to be with me?”

Your voice was barely above a whisper. “More than anything.”

He studied your face. “Even if it’s not easy?”

You nodded. “Even if it’s terrifying.”

Chan didn’t say anything for a long second. But then you saw it that slight tilt in his lips, the smallest movement of his shoulders relaxing.

He let out a shaky sigh. “I missed you.”

You stepped closer and rested your forehead against his chest. “I missed you too.”

Chan hesitated for just a breath and then his arms wrapped around you. Tight. Secure. Warm.

“I’m still mad at you,” he murmured into your hair.

“I deserve that.”

“But I’m not going anywhere.”

You closed your eyes, holding on to him as tightly as he held you.

You didn’t know what tomorrow would bring. Maybe the company really was watching. Maybe the next move had to be even more cautious. Or maybe there would come a day where you had to make the hardest choice all over again.

But for now, in this moment, he wasn’t leaving.

And neither were you.

The tension hung between you and Chan as you stood there, his arms were still wrapped around you but now, it felt different. Less about the reassurance of the moment, and more about the unspoken agreement that this wasn’t going to be easy.

Chan’s fingers gently traced circles on your back as you leaned against his chest, listening to the beat of his heart, trying to hold onto the warmth of the present. But even in this brief silence, you couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the world around you was closing in. You wanted this, you needed this, but you didn’t know how much longer you could keep the secret. How much longer you could keep pretending everything was fine when you felt like you were constantly being watched.

Finally, it was Chan who broke the silence, his voice soft but laced with that familiar concern. “I know you’re scared, but you can’t shut me out. Not when we’re in this together.”

You felt the lump rise in your throat again. Together. That was all you wanted. But your job, your reputation, everything you’d worked for felt like it was hanging by a thread. Every glance, every question, every moment where you had to answer something vague… it made your stomach churn.

“I’m scared,” you whispered, almost too softly. “I’m scared that if they find out… everything’s over. For both of us.”

Chan’s grip on you tightened, and you could feel his warmth, his presence trying to anchor you. “I get it. Believe me, I do. But you can’t go through this alone. Not anymore.”

You pulled back a little, enough to meet his gaze. There was still that vulnerability in his eyes, and it made your chest ache. You hated this. You hated how afraid you were, how you couldn’t just let yourself be with him without the constant fear of what might happen if anyone found out.

“I know,” you said, voice breaking slightly. “But when Minho told me… they’re watching us. I felt it, Chan. It’s not just a feeling anymore. They’re asking more questions about what I’m doing every day, where I go, what I’m spending my time on. I can’t lie anymore, and I’m scared I’m gonna slip up. I don’t know what happens if I do.”

Chan’s face softened, but there was something behind his eyes that showed how much the realization hurt him, too. You could see it in the way his jaw tightened, the way his brows furrowed. But he didn’t pull away from you. Instead, he placed his hands on your shoulders, gently but firmly, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“Tell me everything,” he said softly, his tone demanding nothing but the truth. “I can’t help if I don’t know what’s going on. I want to be there for you, but I need to know everything, even if it’s hard.”

You swallowed, the weight of it pressing down on your chest. He wanted to help, but how could he, when the situation was so out of both your control? How could he when the very nature of your relationship, your job, the company… all of it felt like a ticking time bomb?

Taking a shaky breath, you began, your voice trembling with every word. “It’s not just what Minho told me. I’ve been feeling it for weeks now. They’ve been asking me so many questions about my routine, what I’m doing after work, what I’m spending my time on, who I’m spending my time with… And it’s not just the staff. The higher-ups are starting to watch too. They’re waiting for me to slip, and I’m afraid that when I do, it’ll be too late.”

Chan’s expression grew more serious as you spoke, his hands never leaving your shoulders. He was quiet, digesting what you were saying, before his voice came out with an edge of frustration. “I know you’re scared, and I know you feel like you’re walking on eggshells. But you have to trust me, we can figure this out together. I can’t be there if you keep hiding this from me. I know it’s hard, but I need you to be honest with me about how you’re feeling. We don’t get anywhere if we keep pretending everything’s okay.”

“I’m not pretending,” you murmured, feeling your chest tighten again. “But I’m trying to protect you. You’ve already given up so much for me. I’m afraid that if the company finds out, if they see what we’ve been doing… that’ll be the end of everything. My career, your career… I can’t risk that.”

Chan’s eyes softened, the lines of frustration slowly easing from his face. He took a deep breath, his hands gently lifting yours to hold. “I get it. I do. But you don’t need to protect me. You don’t need to do this on your own. I didn’t start this relationship with you because of what it could cost me. I did it because I wanted to be with you, because of you. So if the company finds out, if it all falls apart… I’m not leaving you. I’ll fight for this. For us.”

Tears pricked the corners of your eyes as you looked at him. “But it’s not just about us anymore, Chan. It’s about everything we’ve worked for. It’s about everything the company could take from us.”

“I know,” he said softly. “But we can’t let the company control our happiness. We can’t let fear dictate what we have. If we’ve made it this far without getting caught, we can make it longer. We just have to be smarter. And we have to do it together.”

Your throat tightened as you nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. You wanted to believe him. You wanted to believe that you could figure this out, that there was still a way forward even if the walls around you were closing in.

But how much longer could you really keep it hidden? How much longer could you both keep playing this dangerous game?

Chan seemed to sense your doubt, and his hand gently cupped your cheek, urging you to meet his eyes. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere, but I need you to trust me. We can’t keep running away from this, pretending we don’t have something real. If we’re careful, we can make this work. If we don’t let the company or anyone else tell us what we can or can’t do…”

You closed your eyes, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t want to lose you,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

“And you won’t,” he said with a certainty that made your heart flutter, even amidst the fear. “We’re in this together, okay? But we have to be careful. We can’t just ignore everything that’s happening. If we’re going to keep going like this, we need a plan.”

You nodded, finally feeling like you weren’t completely alone in this. “A plan,” you repeated softly, the weight of everything still pressing down on you, but the presence of Chan beside you made the pressure feel a little more bearable. “We’ll have to be extra careful. No more mistakes. No more slip-ups. We can’t let anyone get suspicious.”

Chan smiled gently, his thumb brushing across your cheek. “Exactly. We take it one step at a time. But as long as we’re both in this, we’ll make it work.”

You nodded, the tightness in your chest loosening just a fraction. For the first time in a while, you could breathe a little easier, knowing that the weight of everything wasn’t yours to carry alone anymore.

But the road ahead would still be difficult. It would take patience, precision, and constant vigilance. The balance between secrecy and the need for closeness would always be a tightrope walk.

But with Chan by your side, you knew it was a step you were both willing to take.

masterlist.

a/n: open ending. ❤️‍🩹

[official taglist: @alisonyus @lenfilms @captainchrisstan @anastasiiiiaaaaa @emilyywhyy @ready2readnwrite @nyxaluna @tricky-ritz @tsunderelino @wickedbutlovely @delulumel @shinygubbins @hhwangsmoon lmk if you’d like to be added/removed 😙 ..]

387 notes · View notes

donvampiro · 2 months ago

Note

Hiii!! I wanted to ask if you could please do some more “Jealous?” headcannons (the one with Zoro, Sanji and Nami) with Sabo, Marco and Law?

Thank you so much!!!

hello, Anon!!

hope you're doing well. here are the hc you asked for! i'm so sorry for the super long wait, ngl mental health issues and work have made the last few years a very difficult time. in any case, i hope these hc will meet your expectations 🥺 have a nice day/night! 💕💕

@pure-kirarin get ur sabotonin

part 1! (Nami, Sanji, Zoro) -> here

MASTERLIST - Welcome

***

'Jealous?' pt.2

(jealous/protective) Sabo, Marco & Law x gn!reader

Sabo

‘Don’t worry (y/n), i’m not a jealous man; i mean, what comes first is your individual freedom. me and my feelings don’t have to interfere in your life.’

HAHAHAHAHA bro. like. for real. – our sweet Sabo is the jealous type. BUT somehow he’s like Zoro, he just can’t help, despite his ‘motto’ which would rest upon giving you space, trusting you because you’re an adult capable of assuming your actions, your behavior and its consequences. Sabo wants you to feel, to be free. etc etc... but that doesn’t prevent him from being jealous. and he knows it lol

he’ll rather be the type to strongly repress his jealousy though. Because our revolutionary with a top hat knows that he too has many social interactions that could make you jealous, and he doesn’t want to make your relationship unfair by preventing you from doing the same. He knows he has no right to monitor your life or anything similar.

Sabo bottling up his jealousy would result in very specific (and rather either cute...or scary. no in-between) facial expressions as well as gestures, betraying his state.

With an upset expression, Sabo watches you talk to this person you just met, and he’s surprised that you’re able to ignore him like that, like, so easily – unless it’s his own imagination? no, it’s not, right? but... you can’t forget him so quickly, right? … right? He watches you chat, trying to keep the courteous smile he likes to display; while giving your interlocutor a severe (to say the least) sidelong look. but now… now, it’s getting too long for him. He moves away a little to slump on the nearest seat, never taking his eyes off you. he frowns slightly and, pouty as he drums his fingers in frustration, he broods over this jealousy that he cannot let be exposed, at the risk of betraying this promise of fairness he made. to compensate, his mind blurts out his bad faith.

‘how the hell can (y/n) find this person interesting? Everything they say is so very commonplace…’

Sabo hates when he’s like this. But he also hates your interlocutor, who makes (him) a definitely (very) bad impression. There’s something wrong with this person. But the blond tries to be reasonable, yes, no doubt that his jealousy distorts his judgment. If you talk to this individual, it's probably because they’re not as horrible as he thinks, right?... yeah, yeah. Pfuh. bitter, Sabo wouldn't go so far as to call this person ‘interesting’ either.

he has so little free time, and when he can spend time with you, you choose someone else. Now looking more sad than angry, Sabo narrows his eyes, then looks up again at that damn disruptive element you’re talking to.

even if he’s the type to know how to keep his cool, Sabo can be quite impulsive when it comes to his s/o. Thus, if at some point he’s really fed up, i don’t think he’d leave, i rather think he could come back to you and your interlocutor quite abruptly, to bring you closer to him, so that you stop ignoring him.

he takes big, determined steps, walking straight towards you and already knowing that he won’t tolerate any concessions. he's here to be with you, and wouldn't let anyone hinder his goals, obstruct his way, or whatever. Sabo’s gait speaks louder than all the explanations existing, and he quickly takes back his place by your side, not failing to give the same acerbic look at whoever seems to present themselves as a rival.

“Who do you think you are for y/n?”, Sabo’s gaze shouts. His own morality asks the same question, but to himself. “Who do i think i am to act this way?”. Sabo will probably hate himself, later, for having stepped in, but for now, he doesn’t care.

if the person touches you; lmao it's over. But there’s an even worse thing, it’s this expression of discomfort which gradually takes place on your face, signaling to the blond that you’re not necessarily completely okay facing this interlocutor starting to get physically comfortable with you. everything connects in Sabo's mind; and he understands that he has probably been blinded by his jealousy. weren't you just, so far, being polite to the person, and not ignoring your favorite revolutionary?

a miffed sigh crosses the barrier of Sabo's lips, who not only regrets his jealousy which, as always, carries him away, in countries where all the judgements are rather wrong;... but he also regrets this impoliteness of your interlocutor – which he is determined to put an end to.

Sabo cocks an accusing eyebrow as he stares with irritation at this decidedly annoying person. He readjusts his gloves, before gently placing his hand on their chest, exerting a slight pressure so as to push this individual away from you.

‘Can’t you see that you make (y/n) uncomfortable? We’d have hoped for a little more insight from you. Anyway… I strongly advise you to leave, before I get angry.’

the blond has moved forward a little, placing himself in front of you without hiding you completely, his first desire remaining to make sure that you enjoy your individual freedom; as he often tells you. to not hinder your movements. to let you express yourself. admittedly. but it should always be so. these are basic freedoms, and Sabo will never let anyone get too comfortable with you at first sight, as if they were getting the upper hand over you by imposing that inappropriate touch… right?

it’s hard to stand up to the piercing gaze of the revolutionary, it contains both the expression of this jealousy repressed until then, but also all the love he has for you, the strength of his convictions, including that of protecting you. to be the gentleman you need, or at least to be there for you. that’s all. that’s good.

Guilt slowly rises though, and Sabo’s a bit annoyed with himself about feeling this kind of latent satisfaction in getting this person out of your way. But it seemed like the best solution, judging by the overall situation and the discomfort it was causing you. Visibly, well-advised is the person, because they don’t really insist, facing the revolutionary with a top hat. They’re not interested in an argument, shrugging as they walk away. Sabo turns to you, and you both look confused. The little moment of guilty satisfaction that had been Sabo's (namely, when he chased away that annoying interlocutor) has soon faded, and now the words seem to be struggling to overcome the barrier of your respective lips.

Shouldn’t he be proud that he spared you the company of someone who made you visibly uncomfortable? … Nope? Why is his heart still so heavy? Sabo frowns and doesn’t know what to say, yet he’s guided to a single gesture – to take you in his arms, to hug you gently. Putting his gloved hand lightly on your hair, Sabo feels so sorry as he tightens his embrace. Feeling that you’re cuddling him back reassures him, and, as you whisper thanks; he offers you his most sincere apologies, before murmuring:

'I love you, (y/n).'

Marco

tbh i sincerely wondered whether Marco was a jealous man or not.

i think that, deep down, everyone has a small part of jealousy in themselves, but that the difference lies in the fact that we manage to control it with more or less ease. From then on, i believe that Marco has “mastered” his jealousy well, like he’s quite at peace with it.

i mean, especially if it's people he knows. Marco observes (from afar) and rationalizes things. Just because you talk to this or that member of the crew (or any other crew, btw), doesn't mean you're necessarily going to abandon him, or that something bad is going to happen to you.

yeah, Marco definitely prefers to be reasonable and to keep reading. You’re free to do whatever you want, he's the one you love anyway. And you’re the one he loves! So his face keeps that peaceful smile that makes you melt.

'Hope you had a nice time chatting with the crew, (y/n).'

actually it might sound confusing for you – does Marco really care about you? He never really seeks your attention (at least not in as flashy a way as his crewmates). He never seems bothered by you talking to other people who might be… well… his… “rivals”? It’s troubling.

but oh, your presence is the only thing that can drag Marco's eyes away from his book. and above all, when this very presence is accompanied by another – unknown – soul.

it takes him a little longer to stifle his slight jealousy, because it’s difficult to fight this discomfort in front of this person who could create turmoil in your relationship, so dear to the phoenix. But Marco tries to stay true to his rule, you know, rationalization, in order to respect your own freedom.

this person here seems so confident and proud of themselves, standing in front of you and showing off as if Marco doesn't exist - while he's sitting right next to you and the relationship between you and him is anything but ambiguous. As a result, Marco doesn’t know if he should “simply” call this rudeness... or a clear provocation towards him from this person. Either way, that's not acceptable. But he still tries to rationalize — there's no point in getting carried away.

however, Marco understands that this interaction needs to end as soon as he notices your reaction: you're not exactly rejecting this person, but you're not accepting them either. The signals are unclear, mixed, a little confused — you look uncomfortable, embarrassed, maybe more, and Marco doesn't like that. Not at all.

your moods, emotions, likes and dislikes — all of this holds no secrets for Marco. As your lover, it's only natural for him to pay attention to you, to get to know you, and Marco strives to do this every day with the precision of a doctor. And today, the symptoms don't bode well, so Marco decides to step in.

'Are you okay?'

the question is simple, the tone is calm, and he means what he says. He checks up on you, makes a diagnosis of the situation. He would then turn to the person and ask them the same thing, but with a very different perspective in terms of meaning.

Marco doesn't need to get angry, threaten, or make a big speech. Just his look can let the person know that it would be in their best interest to avoid making you feel too uncomfortable.

this very person understood it very quickly, and didn't push their luck. Marco watches them leave without any real expression showing on his face, before wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you back towards him.

his expression is soft and his touch feather light as he rests his gaze on you, offering you a reassuring smile — and you can't help but smile back.

Trafalgar Law

jealousy is a form of affect. Trafalgar Law doesn't want to hear about affect... well, especially if it's jealousy, his jealousy.

might sound weird, but… unlike Marco, tbh i don't know if Law would try to rationalize things, to reassure himself that there's no real insecurity to feel, etc, etc. i rather think that he’d “simply” try not to think about it. What’s the point? It would only stretch thin your link… so… better try to pretend like everything’s fine, right? 🤡

yet you can read jealousy on Law’s face just like in an open book; it's obvious, but our friend with a mushroom hat is always ready to deny it, even if it means being a little curt.

'why would i be jealous? am i supposed to be jealous? i've no reason to be jealous of anything about you. do as you like, (y/n).'

when he defends himself, the word “jealous” is repeated a lot in his sentences, and somehow that’s the way his external speech betrays his deep state, his inner speech. Sometimes Law catches himself thinking that his jealousy isn't something bad, that it actually makes sense, doesn't it? After all, you like each other, and it's okay to feel... “in danger”? when that relationship is put in jeopardy. Moreover, this often motivates Law's desire to protect you, to support you. But… he also finds it unfortunate that it stems from negative affects. Law just wants to be there for you, to protect you, without himself feeling in danger about his place in your heart.

when he feels jealous, Law tends to distance himself, or, quite the contrary, to be slightly clingier than usual with you. Basically, he can either shut himself away and be very quiet, watching your interaction with the person who stirs up his jealousy from a distance (kinda like Sabo); or, on the contrary, he can make his presence felt in the most intense way possible, as if to put pressure on the person in question… and on you.

being more talkative and more attention-seeking than usual, being more irritable,... That would be Trafalgar Law’s (unconscious) way to show you he’s jealous. In fact, Law often realizes his own jealousy afterwards. At the heat of the moment, he just feels pissed off and frustrated, even though he finds it hard to admit it. Overall, what makes Law jealous is people who behave towards you in a way he considers to be inappropriate if they’re not your partner. e.g.: being too flirtatious with you.

Law isn’t the type to confront you to formally forbid you to discuss with someone, however he won’t fail to strongly advise you against hanging out, talking too much etc. with the person who embarrasses him — all of this through lil sentences that actually betray his condition (that you have already noticed for quite a while.)

‘They don’t inspire me with anything safe. I think you should avoid spending too much time with them.’

As said above, Law’s jealousy is no secret to you, it’s as plain as the nose on your face, but it’s often difficult to tackle the subject with him. Don’t tease him too much when it comes to this, he may close like a seashell. But all this embarrassment, which after all results from a form of personal pride; would be quickly put aside if the person (about whom Law already had doubts) comes to clearly bother you.

Coming out of his shell, Law will have no trouble stepping in, kinda abruptly. Maybe he'll grab that person by the collar, maybe not. He positions himself in such a way as to make it clear that nothing bad can happen to you as long as he’s by your side, that you’ll always find support in him. You can always count on him, even if he sometimes seems distant to you.

It’s all in the eyes. A piercing look that is much more full of meaning than words. Law doesn’t want to waste time talking to people who already bother him because they not only take his place, but don’t even take care of it. They’re just annoying you.

Law might sometimes be tempted to use his nodachi. But no doubt it would disappoint you… and that’s out of the question. Somehow it would mean to put himself on the same level as this person who bothers you, this very person who is (at least, in his eyes lol) a walking disappointment.

So Law just chooses to get even closer to them, so he can talk to them calmly… Well, to all appearances :) all of this with some sort of smirk that would actually contain a boiling anger as frustration, and which you’re the only reason why these two components don’t explode.

‘I've already been very lenient to let you talk to (y/n) while you seem so mannerless, so don’t overdo it. Back off and behave better. There will be no other chance.’

After that, depending on what you choose (do you want to leave? do you want to stay with this person who has now been warned by Law?), he’d stay close to you, not imposing himself on your actions, but making himself now much more attentive to the actions of the person — and this for your well-being rather than to his, rather than to this jealousy of which, as we’ve said, he finds it difficult to fully understand. It may not seem like much, but trust me that the person concerned would have understood that they shouldn't mess with you. brrr

In fact, it may seem strange, but I don’t think that Law is generally someone who would be very “fiery” in his jealousy, that is to say the type to violently attack those who make him jealous. i see him more as someone who withdraws, if not sulks; waiting for you to come get him to prove your ‘good faith’ — yes, because those are his terms. In reality, he just wants you to reassure him.

But, no matter what, if someone tries to hurt you, he’ll always be there to protect you! Law is protective of you — whether he’s sulking or not :)

#one piece #one piece x reader #one piece headcanons #one piece imagines #one piece imagine #sabo the revolutionary #chief of staff sabo #sabo x reader #marco x reader #marco the phoenix #marco one piece #trafalgar d. water law #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #jealousy #op x reader #one piece sabo #donvampiro

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letteremi · 8 days ago

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drawing Sukuna's markings on your face

“Hey, Sukuna.” You wave your fingers in greeting, careful not to disturb his intense focus. His expression is deadpan, his eyes laser-focused on the monitor before him.

The mouse zips across the desk with micro precision, clicks and the sounds of colourful gunfire punctuating the otherwise silent room. “Hey, princess. What’s up?”

“Wanna show you something.” You lean closer, grinning impishly, and your heart fluttering with a mix of excitement and nerves as the glow from his screen casts your face in red.

“Yeah, baby?” He can’t help the curiosity in his voice. It’s not every day you come up to him with this attitude, and he knows that when you do, he’s in for a treat.

Sukuna finally looks over, and freezes.

“What the fuck.”

Intricate, swirling markings stretch across your cheeks, curve elegantly over your nose, and angular lines sweep up on your forehead. Each line is painstakingly drawn on with your trusty eyeliner — is that what it is? Makeup terms are confusing — shaded and deepened with dark eyeshadow, and finished off with a subtle shimmer of highlighter that catches the light just right for ‘pizzazz’.

You trace one of the ink lines along your cheekbones, trying not to laugh as his gaze finally meets yours. “Surprise.”

Sukuna blinks at you, like a baffled owl caught in daybreak.

And then, a lazy grin spreads across his face, and his crimson eyes roam over your face like he’s savouring every inch of your handiwork.

“Well, look at you,” he drawls, voice low, dripping in veiled taunts and mischief. “Tryin’ to steal my style, or what?”

Before you can reply, he reaches up and hooks a finger under your chin, tilting your face just so. His headphones are now slung on his shoulders, teammates’ distant shouts and Gojo’s loud cursing fading into irrelevance. His thumb brushes one of the lines by your jaw, sending warmth shooting through your body.

Your face is beginning to heat up. Seriously, it was just for fun. Why’s he looking at you like that?

“You really went all out,” he murmurs, amusement, and something else, darkening in his eyes. “Should I be flattered, or jealous that you look this good?”

Sukuna leans closer, and the faint, intoxicating scent of his cologne wraps around you — thick and familiar.

You are going to be the death of him.

“I gotta say, you wear me well.” You barely have time to react before he’s tugging you into his lap, game long forgotten. Strong hands settle possessively on your waist as a wicked glint sparks in his eyes. His tongue licks the side of your neck, trailing to your ear.

“Though, if you wanted to be marked by me, you could’ve just asked.”

You squirm, twisting in his grasp, and Sukuna’s smirk grows wider. “It was just preshower makeup, don’t have to make such a big deal of it.” Your breathless protests fall on deaf ears.

“What ‘m hearing is,” Sukuna purrs, thick thumbs drawing circles on your thigh, slow and teasing, “we need to shower together.”

Fuck this game. Fuck the winning streak they were on, and fuck maybe risking dropping his rank. He’d climb back to the top, easily.

Something far more important needed his attention.

“Together?” you squeak, eyes growing as wide as dinner plates, face burning hotter than before.

Sukuna just grins, and with one smooth motion, hauls you up and over his shoulder.

“Together.”

After all, he’s got to give you some real marks.

#jjk x reader #sukuna x reader smut #sukuna x reader #sukuna x y/n #sukuna x you #ryomen sukuna #sukuna jjk #jjk smut #jjk #letteremi

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unitedwestandts · 3 months ago

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An Open Letter to Family Influencers

This quote from The New York Times article ‘A Marketplace of Girl Influencers Managed by Moms and Stalked by Men’ should chill every person posting a photo or video of a child on the internet to the bone.

I want to be upfront from the start that this letter is not meant to shame or criticize. I only hope it will raise questions and concerns for the welfare of the children we’re raising in this chaotic technological era where there are no enforceable rules or regulations, protections or safeguards for anyone involved in sharing their personal lives on social media. The internet is truly the Wild West right now and we all have to do better.

We are raising children in possibly one of the most dangerous times. Yes, we have more resources at our disposal than ever before to monitor our children’s health and safety but the foundation of many of those resources, the internet, is a vast ocean of uncertainty when it comes to how the information we’re putting into it on a day-to-day basis is being used and by whom.

Several documentaries have come out recently, Devil in the Family: The Fall of Ruby Franke and Bad Influence: The Dark Side of Kidfluencing to name some, that not only highlight the deeply troubling realities behind family vlogging but also how unprotected and vulnerable the children of today are the minute we post anything about them on social media. There is no way to control who is consuming anything on the internet and this has created a breeding ground for sexual predators and pedophiles to roam freely amongst innocent viewers watching lighthearted videos of childhood.

Many families turn to family vlogging for monetary reasons and I understand that incentive. In this increasingly unstable and high-cost economic world we’re living in, posting a few videos every day about the ups and downs of family life that generate anywhere from a few hundred to a few thousand dollars seems like a magical answer to the very real financial hardships so many people struggle with today.

But the fact is, you don’t know who’s watching. Doesn’t that scare you?

I used to regularly consume family vlogger content on Instagram and Facebook. Who doesn’t want to watch beautiful families go through the same things you are in a funny, lighthearted, real way that makes your potentially invisible struggles and joys seem somehow seen and heard. You laugh and cry with these content creators and their kids, you purchase things they recommend because maybe they’ll help your child through the same developmental leap or help you stay comfortable or awake for the long days at home or at work. It’s a potentially flawless system for stay-at-home parents to contribute to their household income without the burdensome cost and uncertainty of child care.

Except it’s not flawless, it opens up your family and your children to so many unspoken safety risks that we all seem to be willing to turn a blind eye to for the sake of enjoyable content that takes a little bit of tension or stress out of our daily lives.

I think people don’t realize how much of our personal information is out there for people to find if they do a slightly in depth google search or pay as little as $15 a month for access to anyone’s public record information. My profession has nothing to do with investigation or background researching. I have the average number of tech skills someone raised in the age of the internet would have. And still, with someone’s name and general known location or just a phone number, I could find out where you live, any addresses or phone numbers associated with you, any potential relatives or associates and their information, any minor or major criminal charges, social media profiles, automobile type and license plate number, all listed out plainly on one internet page for my perusal.

Note: I do not write the following comments to specific family influencers with any sort of menace or threat, only to point out the incredibly dangerous situations they are putting themselves and their families in.

K.D., it is admirable that you and your family have listened to the wishes of your eldest child and not filmed or posted any content of him or her on your social media. However, you have mentioned his or her first name in posts several times, not a common name, and people know your previously married name. You’ve also posted about the type of activity he or she participates in. It takes one google search of those two names put together with your name attached and immediately a post came up that contains information about the exact location of where that activity is practiced. Doesn’t that worry you that anyone who really wanted to know could so easily find one of your children?

H.N.A, your antics and daily journey with your child are lovely and adorable. But you’ve made it known where you and your family live, that your partner works while you stay at home, and you regularly post timestamp videos about your routine with your child. Does this not invite someone to know exactly when you are home alone with your child? I only have to look up your name, age, and location on one of these inexpensive information websites to have your exact address. Doesn’t this concern you for the safety of yourself and your family?

It has become commonplace online for family vloggers to post Amazon Wishlists where people—i.e. strangers—can you send you gifts. It is a wonderful thing to help others, that instinct should not be discouraged. But as highlighted in the Bad Influence documentary, how do you know who those gifts are coming from? In the documentary, a pre-teen girl was receiving gifts from ‘Megan’ who turned out to be an adult man, a sexual predator as we find out. Do you really want your toddler playing with a toy or your teen wearing an article of clothing that came from a pedophile?

I think there are two main questions family influencers should ask themselves.

The first is: How far will you go? You start out filming your babies and toddlers, how far into their childhood are you going to post content of their lives? 5? 10? 13? 16? When they say they don’t want to keep smiling for the camera but you’re relying on that YouTube, Instagram, Amazon, ect. generated income, are you actually going to listen to them or are you going to persuade them into 'just one more video'? Which of their experiences and reactions are you going to post? Crying? Tantrums? Injuries? Their first period? Where does the line get drawn?

The second question is: Will it be worth it? Will the money be worth your child eventually knowing you potentially put them in harm’s way? That you shared their childhoods, their vulnerable moments with complete strangers without their consent? Do you want to risk their faith and trust in you as a parent, the person they implicitly believed would protect them against the world?

What will your child think of all this in the future?

I am not here to blame or fault people who turn to family vlogging. The age of the internet has turned how we engage and interact with each other on its head and we’re all navigating this together, doing the best we can. While I believe social media did mainly start from a place of good intention in regards to helping people connect with one another, it has unfortunately morphed into a sort of money-hungry chimera that no one really knows how to control or regulate.

The monetization of these platforms that we use daily only benefits the few people controlling them and hurts the rest of us by preying on our stress and shame. They make it seem like they’re here to help you if you can just crack the code on how to make a tiny slice of the monetary pie they’re making. Post content, advertise yourself and your family and you will be rich and successful for essentially just living. But, as much as we want it to be, life is never that simple. Taking the easy route almost always proves to be the wrong path in the long run.

I am a parent of a young child, a parent that does not post any personal information or photos of my child. This was a mutual decision between my partner and I, although it was my partner who insisted on doing this before our child was born. While I was reluctant at the time, I am now so grateful that I agreed.

We have to collectively do better. I don’t know what the solution is to keep our children safe but I think that until we have one, the solution is to keep children off the internet. At least until they’re prepared to give informed consent regarding the use of their image and information. I don’t know what age that is, I don’t know what fully informed consent would be considered. I just know it is our responsibility as parents and people engaging with social media to keep the children of this world safe when we know of a specific threat. And the internet in its current state is a threat to them. Private profiles can be hacked, fake accounts created. There is no privacy on the internet. And as tools like the Way Back Machine and others have proven, the internet is written in permanent marker.

How are we going to continue writing its future with our children at stake?

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cap-trio · 2 months ago

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no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

summary: After a bad fight, Matt ends up in a coma. Unsure if he's going to make it or not, you decide to finally get something off your chest. It feels safer to confess assuming he most likely can't hear you, but when Matt wakes up, you find out you were wrong.

pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

tags: Angst, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions

tw: Mention of a coma and hospitals

word count: 4.5K | Read on AO3

You get the phone call on a Tuesday night.

It started as a typical day; you got up at 6:00 on the dot to get ready for work. Matt met you at your door at 7:30 to walk with you, despite your numerous protests you could make it to work fine on your own. Not to mention your apartment was out of his way by ten minutes. But he knew about the danger that lurked around every corner of Hell’s Kitchen and when it came to you, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Foggy’s name lights up your phone. Nothing out of the ordinary, but things go south as soon as you accept the call. “Hey, what’s -”

“Matt’s in the hospital,” he interrupts. “He’s in a coma.”

The phone falls to the ground, and you ignore Foggy’s voice calling your name. You don’t care that the screen is definitely cracked. You have tunnel vision and can only focus on Matt. You hear Foggy repeatedly asking if you’re okay and that you’re still on the line.

Sinking to the ground, you pick the phone back up. “Sorry, I’m here. What hospital?”

After getting the address, you make it there in record time. You don’t even bother waiting for the elevator, instead climbing the stairs two at a time to floor five. The ICU.

Foggy and Karen greet you in the lobby. Both look disheveled, with fresh tears on their cheeks, dark circles under their eyes, and hair askew from constantly running their hands through it. “What happened? Is he…” going to make it? You can’t bring yourself to finish the question. If you don’t say it, you won’t accidentally speak it into existence. You don’t want to let your thoughts go down that path, but how can you not?

“Fisk got to him,” Karen’s voice is low. “We don’t know what Matt told them happened, or if he said anything at all.”

“He called me, and I knew this was worse than the other times. He could barely breathe and then he passed out. I called 911, then you guys. It’s just been a waiting game.” Foggy takes a deep breath. “All I could make out was something about Fisk and how he got the upper hand this time.”

It takes every last ounce of strength not to collapse to the floor. Karen notices and leads you over to the seating area. “When can I see him?”

“We aren’t sure; they haven’t left his room. No updates yet, ” Foggy replies.

You were on a mission to get to the hospital as fast as you could. Now that you’re here, everything hits you like a truck. It’s a pain you’ve never felt before, like someone carved a hole in your chest, ripping out your heart like they were pulling weeds out of a garden, leaving you hollow. So hollow you can’t even cry. Everything is just numb like the switch controlling your emotions was flipped off. It’s like an out-of-body nightmare; you’re aware it’s not real, but you’re stuck anyway, forced to live in it. What you wouldn’t give for this to only be a fucked up dream.

The three of you sit in the lobby, hands interlocked, waiting in silence. Between the fluorescent lighting beating down like the sun, the faint sound of heart monitors, and the receptionists carrying on conversations like you weren’t at risk of losing your friend, you knew you couldn’t handle it for much longer before going crazy.

Maybe that would be okay though. It would prove you could still feel something other than the shell of who you were an hour ago.

“Am I broken?” Your voice is just above a whisper. “Why am I not breaking down in tears? Or having a panic attack?”

“It’s a stressful situation. Your body doesn’t know how to respond, so it’s pretty much just…not. It’s normal to shut down, so I promise you aren’t broken,” Karen assures you.

“I’m at the same level. I don’t want this to be real, so my body is responding like it’s not. Like this is all some fucked up dream,” Foggy adds.

For some reason, Foggy’s words are what bring on the tears. Not a gut-wrenching sob like you had expected, but still something. “Shit, was it something I said?” He asks.

“No. Yes,” you let out a small laugh. “I was just thinking how grateful I am that you two are here with me. If I were alone…” You don’t finish the thought, and you don’t need to. They know exactly what you mean.

Karen pulls you in for a hug, shedding a few tears herself. Foggy tries to brush off how he’s doing the same. The receptionist notices and quietly brings over an extra box of tissues and gives an apologetic smile. The sound of the door opening separates you three in hopes it’s any sort of update, but they go to the other family waiting.

An hour passes. You don’t move from your seat.

Another hour. Foggy goes to the vending machine for snacks. You don’t eat.

The third hour is when the panic really starts to seep in. You don’t want to be one of those people, but you’re about to go to the desk and demand some sort of update. Instead, you pace around the lobby to try and release the nervous energy.

The sound of the doors opening again freezes you in your tracks. Finally, a doctor appears. “Murdock crew?” She calls out. The three of you race over, but she says, “It’s best if we sit down.” Nervous glances are shared. That’s a telltale sign things are most definitely not good.

“So, I’ll start by saying Matthew has improved since he first arrived. Vitals are almost where we want them, but he needs to stay in a medically induced coma while we continue working on him. I don’t want to make any guarantees as he’s still in bad shape. Matthew is suffering from a concussion, several broken ribs, and internal bleeding. The coma could last up to a month, depending on whether or not he shows signs of recovery.”

Whether or not. Her words ring in your ears. Or not. Or not. Or not.

“But he’ll live, right? People have survived worse. He’ll be fine. Right?” Foggy sounds delirious, not that you can blame him. It’s not the update you guys were hoping for.

“Like I said, I don’t want to make any promises. I’m sorry I can’t give any definitive answers. Just know we’re working our absolute hardest.”

“Can we at least see him?” You beg.

“Not tonight, unfortunately. We’re hoping he’ll be ready for visitors in the next few days. We’ll keep you guys updated. For now, I recommend getting some rest and making sure you’re fed and hydrated. In stressful times, we tend to shut down and not take care of ourselves. We’ll call if anything changes, good or bad.”

Good or bad. Or bad. Or bad. Or bad.

“Thank you,” Karen says with a small smile.

She leaves the three of you alone again. “I don’t want to go home,” you admit. If something happens and you aren’t here, you’ll never forgive yourself.

“They don’t let people stay overnight,” Foggy sighs. “My apartment is the closest, why don’t we all head there and at least try to sleep?”

You’re all too exhausted to walk, so Karen hails a taxi. No one speaks, not even the driver. He takes one look at your group, mumbles a “sheesh” to himself, and starts the drive to Foggy’s apartment.

He provides some pajamas for you and Karen while you all set up camp in the living room. Phones charging and on the loudest setting, you all settle into your positions for the night. Karen on the couch, you on an air mattress, Foggy on the loveseat. It would almost be a fun sleepover if not given the circumstances. Not to mention how empty it feels without Matt.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep, but the fatigue kicks in and you can’t resist it any longer. Hoping to get an escape from this hell, you close your eyes and slip into an escape.

“We’re sorry. We tried everything, but Matthew wasn’t able to pull through. You’re welcome to come in and say your goodbyes. Again, our condolences. He was a fighter.” A painful sob comes from deep within you. You don’t even recognize yourself, everything feels raw and cracked. Grief fills you to the brim, like a thick smoke clouding your lungs, enough to leave you choking and gasping for air. You follow behind Foggy and Karen to say your goodbyes to Matt. The sight of him lying lifeless in the hospital bed sends you collapsing to the floor.

You wake with a scream. Foggy and Karen shoot up, immediately asking what happened. You can’t answer yet; your body takes a second to come back to reality and recognize it was just an awful dream. But it could happen, a twisted voice reminds you.

“I’m so sorry. I was having a nightmare, and it felt so real,” you sigh.

“It’s okay, we’re here,” Karen squeezes your hands. “I think we all had the same dream.”

Foggy nods in agreement. “Just wanted to get some rest, but here we are.” He chuckles humorlessly.

No one knows what to say next. Nothing can be said to make anyone feel better; trying would be pointless. It would all just feel like one person is saying what everyone wants to hear when really, no one has a clue how this will play out.

“Maybe we watch a movie? It doesn’t seem like sleep is an option, and it might be somewhat of a distraction,” Karen suggests.

It’s better than sitting in silence, especially when that silence invites dark thoughts to creep in, so Foggy fires up the TV and finds the most absurd comedy he can find.

Eventually, the three of you are able to doze off again by the time a second movie plays. No bad dreams happen this time, but the sound of someone's ringtone jostles everyone awake. The small amount of light peaking in lets you know it's sometime the next day, but everything feels disorienting.

Foggy answers and puts the phone on speaker. “Hello, we’d like to let you know Matt is ready for visitors. Our visiting hours are from 9:00 a.m to 9:00 p.m every day. If anything about that changes, we’ll reach out.”

“Thank you so much,” Foggy says before hanging up. Everyone takes a few minutes to freshen up before catching a cab back to the hospital. Anxiety courses through you, though it's different from last night. You’re not sure what you're going to say to Matt, or how he’ll look; you feel entirely unprepared. Having Karen and Foggy with you makes it a little less scary at least.

Karen checks in with the receptionist, and five minutes later a nurse comes to let the three of you in. She pauses outside his door. “I want to warn you that he looks pretty beaten up. It won't be easy seeing him in this state, but having someone with him might be good for his recovery.”

She has everyone take a deep breath before opening the door. Matt looks similar to how he did in your nightmare, all bloody and bruised, hooked up to various machines with tubes. You’ve seen him after a fight before, even helped clean him up, but it was never like this. Not even what the nurse said could’ve prepared you.

“What should we say to him? Anything that could make him wake up?” You ask.

“Hearing familiar voices is good no matter what. We recommend just telling him about your day, or maybe reading him a book he likes. Anything that feels right for you.”

None of this feels right, you want to scream. Instead you thank her for the tips.

“I’ll leave you guys alone, but feel free to press that button if you need anything at all.” She gestures to a CALL button near Matt’s bed before slipping out the door.

It's silent at first while everyone takes in the sight of him.

“Maybe tell him a story from college?” You suggest to Foggy. “It might be good to hear something familiar.”

He launches into the avocados at law story which has you and Karen laughing. You would’ve loved to have known them back then.

“I don’t think anything I say will top that,” Karen says. “I don’t even know what to say, anyway.”

Foggy assures her anything will be better than nothing, so she tearfully tells Matt how grateful she is for her and Foggy’s help during her trial. It moves you and Foggy to tears too, and everyone ends up a blubbery mess.

“Sorry to kill the mood,” she chuckles. “What’ve you got?” She asks you.

You decide to tell him about the first day he showed up at your apartment to walk you to work. How you weren’t expecting him at all, given that you’d only been friends for a few weeks at that point and he never mentioned he would be there. How even though you poked fun at him for it at first, he makes you feel safer and you’re lucky to have him.

“I didn’t even know he does that,” Karen says.

“I always thought it was weird when he’d be late for work when it wasn’t related to his…activities,” Foggy adds, not knowing if anyone outside the room could hear. “He really loves us all, huh?”

That brings on more tears. How grateful are you all to have someone like Matt in your lives?

“Alright, I think I’ve had enough crying for the rest of my life,” Karen laughs.

“I think it’d be good to talk about our day like the nurse suggested,” you say. “Not after we found out what happened, but before that.”

And that’s what the three of you do for the next week and a half, once a day and always together. Foggy brings up the idea of doing separate visits, suggesting it might be good for some alone time with him.

Your first visit alone is awkward. Without Karen and Foggy to describe your days together, you aren’t sure what to say. It’s like trying therapy for the first time, knowing you have things to talk about, but being too scared to bring anything up, making it feel too real.

His progress has been up and down, worrying you that it might stay like that for months. Or years. And there is one thing that Matt doesn’t know about you, a secret you’ve acknowledged and thrown into a locked box, refusing to open it. The sick, dark voice from before warns you this may be the only chance you get to tell him.

“Hi, Matt. It’s just me today; we decided it might be good to spend some alone time with you. Uh, today was alright. We went to Josie’s, played some pool, and had a few beers. Felt empty without you though. I’m trying to stall here because I want to tell you something. Something big. But I’m terrified, and a wuss, so I have to do it while you probably can’t hear me or respond at all.” You laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous.

“Well, here goes nothing,” you pause. “So uh, I’m kind of in love with you? Not sure why I phrased it like a question. I know I’m in love with you, and it scares the shit out of me. We’ve known each other for years, and I don’t know if telling you is worth the risk. I care about you too much to let some feelings get in the way. So yeah, that’s my secret.”

You’re not sure if you feel better or worse now that it’s out there. It feels good to get it off your chest, but nothing has really changed by admitting it. Matt will continue to be oblivious to your feelings while you have to continue carrying them around.

Exhaustion kicks in and you slump back in the chair. Just as your eyes begin to drift shut, you hear a groan and shoot awake. Matt starts stirring, mumbling to himself, and you watch helplessly before adrenaline kicks in.

“Nurse! I need a nurse!” You shout into the hallway. They instruct you to wait in the hall; on your way out, you see Matt’s eyes open and you let out a gasp. You swear you see him reach for you, but you’re also feeling a bit delirious so it could be your mind playing tricks on you.

You call Karen and Foggy with the news. Less than ten minutes later, the three of you are standing outside of his room, playing another round of the dreaded waiting game. You fill them in on the moments leading up to Matt waking up, purposefully leaving out details of the conversation.

Thirty minutes go by until one of the nurses comes into the hallway. “He’s awake and stable. You can come in and see him, but I’ll warn he may be slightly out of it.”

Matt gives a weak smile as the three of you enter. “How do I look?”

“Out of it, my ass,” Foggy laughs. “You look like shit.”

“Ouch. Aren’t you supposed to be nice to someone in a hospital bed? A blind man I might add.”

“Little too late to be playing the blind card,” Karen adds.

He turns in your general direction. “What’s your verdict?”

“I’m with these two. You’ve looked better.”

It feels good to be joking around like this again. Things certainly aren’t back to normal, but this is a step in the right direction.

“Even though you hurt my feelings, could we talk alone for a second?”

Foggy and Karen exchange a look and turn to raise their eyebrows at you. You shrug, indicating you’re not sure what this is about.

“I better get some alone time too,” Foggy pouts.

“There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Your friends leave, and as soon as the door shuts you feel like you’re suffocating with anxiety. What could he want to talk about that he couldn’t say in front of his best friends?

“Can I ask you about something?”

“Of course. Anything.” Your voice shakes when you answer.

“Earlier, right before I woke up, I thought I heard you say you’re in love with me.”

Panic settles in hard and fast, like being taken under by a cold ocean wave when your back is facing the water, unexpected and unpleasant.

Fuck.

“That’s not a question.” Stupid. It's the only thing your brain can think of to say, trying to delay the shitstorm that’s brewing.

“Okay,” his mouth quirks up into a small smile, trying to cover a laugh. He knows you well enough to know what you're doing. “Let me rephrase - are you in love with me?”

“I uh, no. I’m not. Must've been a crazy coma dream or something!” Your laugh that follows is too loud and brash to sound even remotely convincing.

“You’re lying.” There isn’t any uncertainty in his voice. He says it like it’s a known fact and not an educated guess.

“Wow, I feel like I should be offended,” you huff. You’re not sure why you’re angry at him when he’s right. Or maybe you’re angry that this conversation is even happening when you vowed to take these feelings to the grave. “I promise I’m not.”

“You are.” The way he emphasizes the word sucks all the air out of the room. That one word makes everything feel different. It’s confirmation you can’t brush this conversation off. Matt isn’t going to let it go.

“Jesus Matt, can we just drop it? I told you, I never said it. I don’t know why you can’t believe me. And is this really the most important thing to be focusing on right now?”

“To me? Yes, it is that important. And I can tell you’re lying.”

You roll your eyes. He knows even though he can’t see it, because he knows you. “Because of what, my laugh? I admit I sounded weird, but -”

He cuts you off. “It was your heartbeat.” He’s frustrated that you can’t understand, as if this is some normal thing people can do, or like he’s mentioned it before and it’s something you just casually forgot. Like you would ever forget something like that.

You snort at how unbelievable this situation has gotten. “My heartbeat? What the hell are you talking about?”

Surely this is a weird side effect of the concussion. Maybe he’s hearing things now? Or he’s playing some weird prank on you? You should probably call the nurse back in.

“I can hear people’s heartbeat. When they lie, it changes rhythms. When you said you aren’t in love with me it got faster. So I’m asking you again, are you in love with me?”

“Matt, you can’t just brush that off like it isn’t the most insane thing I’ve ever heard! You expect me to believe you, especially when you can’t prove it? Look, I’m gonna call in the nurse and have her check your head because clearly, the concussion isn’t any better.”

You reach for the call button but he grabs your wrist before you can press it. Warmth spreads across the spots where his fingers are touching you. Now is not the time you try to relay that message to your body. It doesn’t listen.

He lets go of your wrist and sighs. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes. You constantly made up excuses when you’d show up to work with mysterious bruises or cuts. Not gonna work in this argument.”

“I didn’t realize we were arguing,” he raises an eyebrow. “But to be fair, that was only to keep you safe. Have I ever lied about anything else?”

“I don’t know, I can’t hear your heartbeat.”

Now he rolls his eyes. “I know you’re trying to avoid talking about it. But please know I wouldn’t make something like this up. After the accident, my senses got heightened more than what would happen to the average person. I know it seems like I’m an asshole for keeping something like this private, like I use it to take advantage of people, but I don’t. Even when someone lies, I don’t force them into telling the truth. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

He sounds exhausted, and can you blame him? Having to live with this gift, but knowing he can’t really do anything with it, would take a toll on anyone.

But he’s also putting you in an uncomfortable position, despite claiming he doesn’t use it against people. “So why are you doing it to me now?”

“I’m sorry. We can drop it, but don’t you want to know why I’m so hung up on this? Why I’m seconds away from getting on my knees and begging you to tell the truth?”

Yes. No. Because admitting that makes this all too real. Too scary. It opens up a door you want to bolt shut because it allows too many what-ifs into the mix. What if things don’t work out? What if you work better as friends and break up, making everything complicated? You could write a whole book full of different scenarios.

But there is another possibility: what if Matt loves you too?

It’s enough to make you want to unlock the door and throw it open. “I do.”

Time seems to stand still. You both know what’s coming, and it scares the hell out of you, but it’s worth it. He’s worth it.

“Tell the truth. Please, I want to hear you say it.”

You already did, you want to point out. But now isn’t the time to be a smart ass, not with the way his gaze is piercing you and the tension rising with every second unspoken.

“I’m in love with you, Matt.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound is music to his ears, better than any song he’s heard. If he wasn’t ruined by you before, he sure is now.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“Good, or else that would’ve been really embarrassing.”

He laughs. “Now was that so hard to admit?”

“Oh please! You didn’t give me much of an option.” You deepen your voice in a terrible attempt to mock him, “I’m Matt and I can hear people’s heartbeats, so I know when they lie. I’m in love with you too, but instead of saving time and saying that, I’m gonna make you do it first. Even though I clearly heard you before.”

You both erupt into laughter; you can physically feel yourself getting lighter as the crushing weight of tension leaves your body.

“I’m never going to get over hearing you say that,” he admits.

“I won’t either.” You pause, feeling a shift in the conversation tone. “I honestly never wanted you to know. I only said it because I was scared of losing you, and it was a cowardly way of getting it off my chest. I tried convincing myself maybe you also felt that there was always something more between us, but then I’d get in my head and decide you didn’t. Decided it wouldn’t be worth losing you if I said something and you turned me down, but then I thought I’d lose you in a different way.” Your voice cracks at the end, and you force the tears back in, hating that you’re making things serious again.

“I’ve always felt it,” Matt confesses. “I never wanted to pressure you or make things weird if I misread the signs. Am I happy this is what it took for us to be together? Of course not, I pictured this moment a million different ways, and not one involved a hospital. But I am happy it happened. So unbelievably happy.”

“I am too. I’ve wanted this for years.”

“I really want to kiss you, but…” he gestures to his current state.

“We can make it work. We’ll just be careful.”

“I’ll make it up to you when I’m healed,” he smirks. He gets a little cocky from how he can make your heartbeat quicken, and how intimate it is that only the two of you can experience it together.

“Such a tease,” you roll your eyes, leaning down inches from his mouth.

“You’re one to talk.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

His hands cup your chin while yours rests on his hip, careful not to apply any pressure. You can both feel the other holding back; his lips are just grazing yours, but it’s enough to feel like hot lava is coursing through you. If his lingering touches over the years left sparks in their wake, kissing him is like being electrocuted. It’s delicate and sweet and you’re overwhelmed with how right it feels. The only thing on Matt’s mind are you and more, but he knows this is just the beginning.

So instead he focuses on the now, mentally adding this moment to a scrapbook of memories filled with you.

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