#acting normal around him is getting harder by the day

[fandomxo00]

Ok but imagine:

Your first autistic burnout with Logan

It was days like today that got you. It didn't happen all at once you noticed that things begin to get harder. Self care was a necessity but sometimes you just didn't have energy for it. For you it felt like time was speeding up, like you thought it was Friday but it's really Monday. Like the world spinning but your stuck where you are. That your trying to process every day and everything that happens but it's already tomorrow.

But you don't stop pushing yourself, they tell you have to push through. That you have the break time you need so why would you need anymore? That you barely taught any classes anyway, barely a teacher there. You felt selfish most of the time because if you listened to yourself you'd try to put yourself first. But no one else understands you? Unless your autistic it's hard to understand what it feels like to be burnout.

You started having bad mood swings, unable to regulate your emotions, as you usually would be to. It was hard to get around, to do just about anything because your body was tired. Your mind was fatigued, and the wrong words come out of your mouth a lot easier. Because you weren't acting normal you usually started beating yourself up because you shouldn't feel this tired. You shouldn't feel like even breathing can be hard for you. Which in these moments because a problem because of your unrelentless anxiety about having to put your mind to anything, or having to be social situations that you didn't want to be in.

But you had to show up for your job or you were going to lose it. Charles could only be so patient with you right? Even with accommodations in place, there was a certain point where you felt like in other people's brains there was no coming back, you just didn't want to get better. That you decided one day that you were just coming to become depressed. For so long doctors who didn't know you assumed you were bipolar, though you didn't have manic epsiodes. You just really intense happiness that could last for a little while but it was usually because you were in a mood swing.

Logan was instantly drawn to the moment he met you. You had the same type of darkness he recognized in himself. When you looked at him you had the same pain in his eyes that were reflected in his. The two of you had gone through very different pain and trauma, but when he learned about yours it didn't think it was any easier. Not with the mental and emotional manipulation you grew up with. The hours you spent alone and isolated because the world was simply too much for you. That you rather stay in your little bubble and never leave.

You'd been doing good for so long, you could have a bad day or a bad week, but you always got back up. Logan had never seen you practically paralyzed. You could barely keep your eyes open, you could barely move without groaning or crying, it was like your limbs were almost lifeless.

The room was pitch black, something he knew you didn't like. You always had a night light on, and now you couldn't even open your eyes long enough. You'd even covered your ears when he tried talking to you, a faint 'shh' coming out of your mouth. He felt the pain shoot through him as he saw the pain all over your face, you almost looked lifeless. Logan spoke quietly as he checked on you, before reaching for his hand and grasping on tightly while you started to cry. "What's wrong?" He whispered.

"I-is just too much." You bawled. "H-hold me tight please." Logan's arms wrapped around you without hesitation, listening to you as you laid your head against his chest, his arms tight around your body.

Eventually you needed space, feeling almost suffocated, but you didn't want him to leave. You didn't know how to communicate this, your own anxiety of just having to talk practically making you mute. You just climbed away from him, before whispering, "Stay." Laying your head on the pillow, and he laid next to you. You moved forward eventually, wanting the comfort of his hand in yours. Logan traced your features with his hazel green eyes, trying to make sure he was prepared for whatever you were feeling. Trying to understand something that he knew you couldn't explain to him right now.

All he knew was that you needed him and he wasn't going anywhere.

note: cried while writing this, i'm sorry i'm not filling in requests rn feeling a lot executive dysfunction and just trying to remain positive.

tags: @ohtobemare @jessjessmarvelandhp @chronicallybubbly @delicateholland @bubblegumholland

[hana-no-seiiki]

TEACHER: What’s your favorite act of service?

YANDERE! BOYFRIEND: Hugs (from my significant other)

YANDERE’s FRIEND: … cute but they asked act of service-

READER: *is dying from both second hand embarrassment and blushing*

[critterbitter]

The twins and their starters may have grown slightly taller, but their love of shenanigans have tripled, no, quadrupled in size.

On that note did you know Eelectrik has a glow animation?? Perfect nightlight eel. Absolute gold standard for creature. Click here for the masterlist!

Bonus shitpost under cut ft @birdsaretoddlers’s incredible take.

(plus a fanfic drabble that birds did while we were discussing in chat! Check out their funny writing @birdsaretoddlers) “Lam lam pentttt. Lam.”

“Language. I am not calling them that. This is a civil discussion about the capacity of a 284 Berkshire’s firebox, not a playground argument.”

“Lammm Pent.”

“If you possess my phone I will have to put you in time-out in your ball, and neither of us will like that.”

The argument over a literal online flame war was cut short by the door flying open, one of the hinges breaking off with the force and flying somewhere into the aether, never to be seen again. Or at least, not without a strong magnet.

Emmet stood there, proudly, holding his newly-evolved Eelektrik, his grin a mile wide. Ingo picked his heart up out of his femoral artery, where it had lodged itself, and gently removed Lampent from where she hid, hanging over his shoulder. Emmet stood there, eyes twinkling, clearly ready to perform the coveted Bit. Ingo opened his mouth, got halfway through a word, and his twin took the proffered delight of cutting him off.

“I am Emmet and I discovered something INCREDIBLE. INGO LOOK.”

Ingo looked, because what else was he going to do? He would allow his twin to complete his circus act, it was only proper and polite. Eelektrik trilled with delight. Emmet twirled like the best of Nimbasan runway models, clearly wrestling his eel, cooing platitudes to it as he writhed and squirmed to get it into position.

“Me beautiful slimy baby, my beloved pool noodle, my beeesstt conductor!~” Doing something that could generously be called ‘dislocating his shoulders’, Emmet managed to get his eel flipped up and around his neck. He flopped forwards, bonelessly, tipping his hat and giggling madly. He was grinning harder than normal. Ingo was a little scared.

“But now, Eelektrik can do MORE. OBSERVE.”

He threw his shoulders back, standing up as tall as he could, somehow not throwing himself ass-first onto the floor as the fifty pounds of eel he was currently deadlifting remained stationary over his neck. Emmet’s arms flew upwards and out, rocking back and forth in jazz hands. Eelektrik frilled its fans, made another happy little buzz and-

"Eelektrik boa."

“DRAGONS ALMIGHTY. THE EEL GLOWS.”

There it was, clear as day. Eelektrik flashed it’s spots in natural bioluminescence, blinking like a neon sign. Bright beautiful yellow and clearly charged, Emmet’s hair stood on end, pushing his hat an inch off his head. They blinked in a rhythmic, pulsing manner. It was almost hypnotizing to watch, in a way. Ingo snapped back to reality, realizing his mouth had dropped open and Lampent had ceased questing for his Pokedex. Recognizing Emmet was looking for a response, he threw his arm out in a thumbs-up so fast his arm hurt, snapping his suspender against his neck.

“Brrravo! Ten out of ten! Majestic eel scarf!” He praised, Emmet’s expression only growing further full of himself and his achievement, which was well deserved. Lampent echoed the sentiment, flashing back at Eelektrik in response.

Now that both Pokemon could glow, they’d never have a problem in the caves again!

[hysteria-things]

MATT'S STREAM

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!chris x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and chris’ relationship isn’t out to the public just yet. when he’s on stream with matt, you tease him.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUT, swearing, teasing, dry humping, cock warming, degradation if you squint, p in v, semi-public (?)

ASSUME YOU'RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 1,521

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: hiii i’m excited for this. let’s see how this goes :)

chris sits at his desk, spam clicking and smashing buttons on his keyboard. he talks to his brothers in his headset.

matt’s streaming on twitch right now, meaning that thousands of fans are watching the three of them play fortnite. you’ve been with chris for a few months, yet the fans have no idea. you both collectively agreed to keep your relationship out of the public eye.

hence why you are seated next to him out of frame, watching the stream go down. your eyes scan to his side profile. his brows furrow in concentration, his tongue sticking out as he focuses on the computer screen. you hear the boys scream in his headset, and he slams his hands onto his lap.

“damn.” he grunts out, glancing over at you for a moment and smiling.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom.” he says into the mic before muting it and taking off his headset. he turns his face cam off and goes into the bathroom to do his business.

he comes out beats later, sitting back in the gaming chair, wiggling to get comfortable. you get up, which gains his attention. “you doing okay?” he asks.

“yeah. just need to stretch.”

before he could unmute his mic and turn the cam back on, you push the chair back slightly to have enough space to straddle his lap. he wraps his arms around your waist and welcomes you closer, kissing your collarbone. “they’re going to think i’m shitting.” he says jokingly.

your arms snake around his neck and you lean back to look at him. “say your camera broke.”

he smirks and puts back on his headset. “i’m back.” he starts. “for some reason, my camera is acting weird.”

“it’s all good. as long as we can still hear you.” matt’s voice replies.

the thin fabric you call panties rubs against his bulge through his red plaid pajama pants. you have a shirt on, one of chris’s FRESH LOVE t-shirts that covers you enough to look like a nightgown. a sensation tingles between your legs, and you start to move your hips slowly.

you hear chris groan, pressing a button on his keyboard. “what are you doing?” he asks sternly.

“i need to get comfortable.” you tease, rocking your hips harder. he opens his mouth to say something, but closes it and clicks unmute again.

you rest your head in the crook of his neck and continue to rock your hips, feeling him grow beneath you. he still talks to his brothers normally, but his performance on the game doesn’t look good.

“what the fuck is up with you, chris?” nick questions into the headphones.

“sorry,” he mumbles.

your hands find their way to the back of his neck and tug at his hair lightly. you breathe heavily to not make any noise since his mic is right next to your head. you don’t even notice your hips rutting and body tensing when you feel your release soak your underwear.

you exhale shakily, lifting your body and looking at the mess you made. there’s a wet stain on his pants on top of his hard-on. you don’t even have to look to know your underwear is ruined.

chris looks at you confused, before following your gaze. you go to get up but he grabs your hips and places you back to where you’re hovering over him. he unties his pants and pulls them down along with his boxers. he moves the mic away from his mouth, leaning toward your ear.

“don’t move or make a fucking sound,” he warns in a low tone you could barely hear.

he pushes your panties to the side and guides you down onto his cock, fighting off the hissing noise trying to escape your lips as he stretches you out tenderly and slowly. you and chris started having sex not long ago, but even after a few days without it, you had to readjust again.

this, however, is a first.

you guys never tried cock warming before. you felt so nervous. so excited. so full.

after multiple rounds of fortnite that felt like it lasted hours, your brain felt fuzzy despite not even doing anything. every time he talked, laughed, or celebrated a victory or loss, he’d thrust deep inside of you. and it drove you nuts.

you hear commotion on the other end of the headset. “fuck!” chris screams, jolting his hips further into you than at any other time. your eyes roll ever so slightly, mouth agape as your bottom lip grazes over his bare shoulder. it’s too late to take back the moan that came out of you.

chris’ hands make their way to your ass and squeeze hard, setting a reminder.

be quiet. right.

your patience becomes thinner and thinner, since it’s already been about thirty minutes. too desperate, you start to grind against him.

before he can do or say anything, you grab his mic and fist your hand over it so nobody can hear.

“please let me ride you. i promise i’ll be quiet.” you beg.

“so needy.” he sighs, taking your hand off of the mic and returning to the game.

rutting your hips forward, you start bouncing, your clit swollen from sitting still for so long without doing anything about it. you don’t know, but you could’ve sworn you heard chris groan.

too busy focusing to try to not make a sound by biting your lip, you hear sentences being scattered around from the boys.

“i don’t know, man.”

“this game sucks!”

“is your camera working yet?”

“no, sorry!”

little do they know, here you are, fucking yourself on your boyfriend’s dick like a bitch in heat.

you nuzzle your head in his neck and kiss a spot before biting down to stifle your pathetic sounds. chris hisses at the sudden contact and misses a kill, the other person killing him instead, costing them to lose.

“for fuck sake. chris, are you sure you’re okay?” matt asks in annoyance.

the tip of his cock brushes against your g-spot unexpectedly, forcing a whine out of you. “actually.” chris starts. “i don’t feel good, to be honest. i might log off for tonight.”

he quickly ends the discord call and shuts down his computer, stopping your movements. you look at him with glassy eyes, a frown portraying your face. he runs a finger up your spine before gripping onto your hair and yanking it, making you whimper. “first, you ruin my pants.”

he thrusts himself up into you, taking you by surprise with a gasp.

“then, you tease me.”

another thrust.

“now, you can’t follow simple fucking instructions.”

again.

a broken moan comes out of you, chris slapping your ass. “need me to fuck you so bad you can’t even wait two hours. instead, you get off by fucking yourself on my dick like your life depends on it. so pathetic.”

you whine of embarrassment, yet you don’t want this to stop.

“please.” you breathe out. “i’m sorry. please fuck me.”

with that, chris grabs your thigh with his free hand and starts plunging into you from below. his grip is still tight on your hair. you let out breathy moans left and right since each thrust takes the air out of your lungs. your eyes start prickling with tears from all of the built-up pleasure. “oh my— fucking— jesus— god.”

chris chuckles at your failed attempt to form a sentence. your moans transition into high-pitched squeals when he hits the angle that makes a knot form in your stomach. he releases his grip from your hair and moves it to your jaw, his hand that was on your thigh coming up to your mouth. he shoves in his middle and ring finger for you to suck on.

god, this felt good, and boy was it hot.

drool starts dribbling down your chin as you moan around his fingers and your eyes roll back. chris twitches inside you causing him to groan and take out his fingers, but your mouth still hangs open as unholy sounds come out of it. he releases your jaw and cups your ass with both hands.

“holy shit.” you whine. “i’m gonna cum.”

“let go, y/n. fuck you’re doing so good for me.”

because you certainly don’t have to be told twice, your whole body trembles and you fall forward. your hands cup the sides of his neck.

“i love you.” you moan into his neck as he continues thrusting to get to his release. “i love you so fucking much— jesus god.” you cry out when you feel chris filling you up.

he thrusts a few more times into your trembling body to get down from his high.

“look at me.” he says softly, bringing your head up to make eye contact. he smiles and kisses your lips. “i love you too, ma.”

when you come back to your senses you lift yourself off of him and stumble to his bed to sit down. chris pulls up his boxers and checks his phone that’s been blowing up on the desk in front of him.

[delilahsturniolo]

don’t take it out on me.

written by: @delilahsturniolo

____________________

Summary: in which matt has a bad day and takes it out on his girlfriend.

this story contains: angst, crying, arguing, yelling, comforting/fluff, kinda physical argument? (just one or two shoves) & slight anxiety attack

Let me know if i missed any ^^

____________________________________________

“don’t take it out on me”

“i’m out of sympathy, for you.”

I sat on Matt’s bed, mindlessly scrolling on my phone. The triplets were out filming a car video, I haven’t seen Matt all day. I checked the time, it was 11:36 PM. They should be driving back home by now.

I went into my text messages and clicked on Matt’s contact.

IMESSAGE

Matt ❤️

hi baby! are you guys done filming?

read 11:37 PM

I furrowed my eyes in confusion as I waited for him to respond, but he didn’t. He left me on read? That was so out of the ordinary for Matt, he would normally always respond to my messages. I put my phone down, deciding to brush it off and think nothing of it.

Before I knew it I heard the front door open, footsteps walking into the house, followed by Nick’s loud giggles. I heard someone coming up the stairs and approaching the room.

The door opened, it was Matt. He entered his room and shut the door, not saying a word to me. “Hi baby!” I exclaimed, getting up off his bed and walking towards him, wrapping my arms around him.

Instead of returning the hug, he immediately pushed me off of him. I stumbled back a little, shocked at his sudden action. I watched as he headed over to his closet, getting his pajamas.

“Matt? Are you okay?” I asked hesitantly, not daring to move from where I was. Matt had never in his life pushed me off of him, or rejected a hug from me. I was really confused but decided to stay patient with him.

“I’m fine.” He grumbled, coming out of his closet. I frowned and spoke up again. “You don’t seem fine, you look upset.” I crossed my arms.

“I said I’m fine! I’m not upset, okay? Jeez.” Matt snapped at me, picking up his phone and looking down at it, completely blocking me out.

“Why are you being like this?” I questioned in a frustrated tone, he huffed and glared at me, throwing his phone down on the bed.

“I have no idea what the fuck you want from me, y/n! Just leave me alone! Is that so hard to ask?” Matt yells, I felt my heart sink. I clenched my fists and stepped closer to him. Our faces were inches away from each other, the tension and anger was filling the air. Usually, Matt would never dare to raise his voice at me, but this was different. This never happened before.

“Stop yelling at me and tell me why the fuck you’re so angry!” I yelled back at him. Matt scoffed and rolled his eyes. “I just had a bad day, it’s no big deal.” He said, his voice laced with bitterness and irritation.

I glared at him angrily. “Well, don’t take it out on me! I was so excited to see you and you come home and act like this?” He reached out to touch my shoulder but I pushed him back, a little harder than I should’ve.

Matt immediately grabbed my wrists, yanking me closer to him. His grip was excruciatingly tight. “Don’t fucking do that.”

I winced in pain as me grabbed me. I yanked my hand away from him and walked out of the room, tears filling my eyes.

1 hour later…

I was in the bathroom, I finished brushing my teeth and put away my toothbrush, wiping my face. Matt was in the room, scrolling on his phone. We still hadn’t spoken since our argument,

I went over to the sink and looked in the mirror, I looked a mess. My eyes were so tired, they were red and puffy. My mind kept replaying the argument with me and Matt, all the yelling and screaming was all I could think about. No..all I could think about was Matt. This was so out of character for him.

The bathroom was connected to Matt’s room (i know it’s not actually but just pretend) and the door was open. I looked back at Matt, who sat on his bed and looked down at his phone. I sighed, letting out a shaky breath.

What if he never forgave me? What if he was going to leave me? Were the type of thoughts that were consuming my mind. I felt my eyes water as tears began streaming down my face. My ears were ringing and my vision was blurred by my tears. I let out a pained sob, my chest rising and falling rapidly.

Matt’s head immediately snapped up and toward the bathroom as he heard sobs coming from it. “Baby? Are you okay?” Matt called out, but no response.

He threw his phone down, not caring that it hit the floor as he rushed into the bathroom. Right now, his girlfriend was his top priority.

He entered the bathroom and spotted me crying my eyes out. He didn’t hesitate to come over to me and immediately wrap his arms around me, holding me tightly against his chest.

“Shh…it’s okay love, I’m here, I’ve got you.” He whispered into my ear, gently rubbing my back in a soothing motion. His heart was breaking.

I sobbed into his chest, clinging to him tightly. “Don’t cry baby, please don’t cry. I love you so much. So fucking much.” Matt spoke softly, gently rocking me back and forth, he held onto me like his life depended on it.

“Can you take a nice deep breath for me?” Matt said, taking a deep breath himself so I could copy him. I sucked in a deep breath, copying his breathing pattern.

“Good job sweetheart, a couple more.” He took more deep breaths and I followed him. Eventually, my sobs subsided, and we were just hugging in silence.

He pulled away and gently wiped my remaining tears away. He suddenly spoke up.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I should’ve never yelled at you, or treat you like that at all. I just had the shittiest day ever, but that’s no excuse. You’re the most beautiful and perfect girl ever, inside and out. I promise you, you make me so happy and I love you. No matter how angry I am, that will never change. I’m so sorry.” Matt gently caressed my cheek. I felt myself smile at his genuine apology.

“Theres that gorgeous smile!” Matt exclaimed, I laughed softly.

“It’s okay Matt, I forgive you. But, if you have bad days you know you can talk to me right? I’m always here for you.” I replied, looking up into his bright blue eyes.

“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t come to you earlier, baby. I should have never taken out my stress on you.” Matt apologized once again.

“Matt, it’s okay. Stop apologizing.” I chuckled, Matt smiled at me. He suddenly slung one arm under my arms and his other arm under my legs, picking me up bridal style. I gasped at the sudden action. “Matt!” I giggled. He playfully threw me onto the bed.

He covered me in a blanket and grabbed his stuffed animal, mr wrinkleton and placed him next to me. “I’ll be right back, pick out a movie and keep mr wrinkleton company for me.”

I nodded, hugging mr wrinkleton against my chest as I picked up the remote, scrolling through movies. I decided to pick The Notebook, one of my favorites.

Soon enough, Matt came back. He held a bunch of drinks and snacks in his hands, I laughed as he struggled to carry all of them. He set them down on his side table.

“Matt..this is so sweet.” I blushed, Matt looked down at me, admiring me. He handed me a bag of chips and a soda.

“Anything for you, gorgeous girl.”

He plopped down on the bed next to me and I started the movie. Matt scooted closer to me and wrapped his arms around me. I laid my head on his chest as we watched the movie, his hand gently running through my hair in a comforting way.

“I love you, my pretty girl.”

“I love you too Matt.”

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AUTHORS NOTE 💌

hii!

this is my first fic, so im really

sorry if it sucks, but i hope you enjoyed it, i had a lot of fun writing this! don’t hesitate to send in requests or give me feedback. 🤍

i love u guys

[twistedwonderlandimaginesblog]

Mc accidently got splashed with a (obsessive) "love potion" and she falls in giddy love with first person she lays her eyes on.

All she wants to do is give them kisses and hugs...and yea she also is clingy and she follows them around even duuring class. She is ready to do anything for her "love" ( like whatever they ask of her) she wants them to be happy . She is convinced that they are dating and it's honestly pointless to try and explain things to her.

How would Azul, Jamil, Malleus, Duece and Floyd hanndle the situation/what's their reaction? ( they were not dating before ) 

Azul Ashengrotto:

Azul was doomed by yet another situation he couldn’t see himself out of. He hardly knows how to handle you normally, or rather how to handle his feelings for you, but you’re much harder when you’re like this. Having you clinging to his side and demanding his attention made it impossible for him to concentrate, and feelings be damned he wasn’t going to let his business suffer. Since Jade and Floyd refused to escort you from his office (finding Azul’s flustered face and inability to actually push you away the best comedy bit they’d seen in years) he ordered them to instead find a cure for the nightmarish love potion that ailed you. They do agree but take longer than they need to, wanting Azul to endure his torturous thoughts a bit longer.

Deuce Spade:

You have poor Deuce stressed OUT. He’s too worried about your well-being to hear any of Ace’s teasing, also focused on keeping his lips covered in case of another surprise attack. He wouldn’t mind under normal circumstances but this doesn’t feel genuine (and he had a much more romantic first kiss in mind for the two of you). He boldly confided in his seniors about you in hopes of them helping with a solution, tightly holding your hand to keep you at bay. He’s willing to go to any length to cure you, even if he’d miss the closeness.

Floyd Leech:

Floyd is willing to milk this situation for all that it’s worth. He particularly enjoyed the squeezing contest you had, and how tightly you clung to him even after he clearly won. He would have loved to keep you all to himself, using your condition to get out of working at Mostro Lounge as it would be hard to cook with you attached to him like you were. Jade is surprised with how long Floyd indulged your clingy behavior, even when he seemed fed up, he knew if he really wanted to push you away and lock you up so you’d leave him alone, he would do it.

Jamil Viper:

Jamil would have used you for all you were worth if he didn’t have feelings for you. He’s frustrated that yet another responsibility was thrust upon him, but turning his back on you was not a choice under these circumstances. It makes it hard to go about his day when he has two different people bothering him all day, but you proved to be the bigger challenge (for now). If he could concentrate he’d have an easier time of finding a solution but there was a part of him that longed for you to continue to worship him, curious how much of this might mirror your relationship if you ended up dating.

Malleus Draconia:

You had always been more honest with Malleus than others, but this was certainly new. As much as he enjoyed your emboldened behavior it didn’t take him long to detect something was off, leaving him conflicted. He wouldn’t mind having a close relationship like this with you, maybe some more boundaries discussed for the sake of Sebek’s heart and everyone else's eardrums, but he was disappointed to know this wasn’t you acting on ‘real’ feelings. He’s even more suspicious about how and why you were splashed with such a potion to begin with, growing rather possessive at the concept of someone trying to steal your heart away from him.

[prettyboykatsuki]

✮ tags ; fingering, gn + afab!reader, pro-hero katsuki, dirty talk from both parties, semi-public sex (they're in a dressing room), finger-sucking, 18+

✮ wc ; 1.5k

✮ a/n ; it feels like i just got hit over the head with a fucking mallet. i swear im still on hiatus. its seven in the morning. im going to go crazy. the literal spike of adrenaline i got looking at him.

"No way," He snorts, his voice clipped—cocky against the shell of your ear as his hands sneaks against your waist. "This is what gets you?"

A reflexive part of you doesn't want to give Katsuki the satisfaction of a yes. You know how he is. You'd go as far as saying you like it - almost as much as you like him when he's not acting like the center of the universe. But it's undeniable that part of what draws you to Katsuki is the very thing that causing you strife now.

He's complicated. Underlined all that dripping egoism is a real sense of uncertainty - and that part of him is sexy too. The awkward, lovesick gentle man he can be when he wants.

But. But.

Other times, it's his magnetism. Such raw, enigmatic confidence built on experience. Prowess. No amount of complicated can erase or overshadow just how much Katsuki is a pure fire. You normally get boyfriend Katsuki, and he's catty and affectionate with nothing to prove. Soggy and loveable and approachable.

You forget, often, what he can be like when the cameras flash. What the public likes of him. Which is raw sex appeal and sultry eyes and a wicked little grin, wolfish and wanting.

You're not ashamed to admit seeing that turns you on. And it's only worsened to see him bask in it - getting off on the sudden attention

(Your attention, specifically - considering he had been all but indifferent to the awing of studio, only minutes prior.)

"Yeah, it is," You groan, pressing your forehead against his shoulder. Your body shudders responsively to his touch.

There's something rushed about the whole ordeal. Your back is pressed up against the mirror in his dressing room - legs spread with your pants barely unbuttoned. Katsuki is no better, borrowed pants snug on thick, muscular thighs. He laughs a little breathlessly. No less affected than you if the tent in his pants is any measure.

"Aw, what?" He presses, his lips pulled. All canines as he rests his palm over your waistband and doesn't move an inch. "Seeing me in front of all those cameras turn you on?"

You pull away to stare at him and he's grinning. Unusual playfulness steeped and soaked between layers of lust. Your hand reaches for his length, hand cupped around as you grip. He closes his eyes, swears under his breath.

"You look good," You tell him, and you mean it - much more than you've meant anything in the last twenty minutes. He's taken aback by the candor despite asking for it. "You looked so fucking good."

His eyes go lidded as he presses his mouth to yours. He stops teasing, breaching past your pants into your underwear. Your spine curls at the sudden sensation. Brief and unmoving. You can feel how wet you are, feel the way your arousal burns in your core and makes your whole body tight with want.

"You mean that," He says more than asks. His breathing goes shaky and you can feel him pulse in your hands. "Say it. Tell me you want it."

You laugh a little "Want you, Katsuki. Make me feel good, baby."

He groans, once again loosing all composure. You hold onto Katsuki's shoulder as he takes your words like a challenge—the way he takes most things. Everything about the experience is both too much and not enough. You both know it. The energy in the room electric, it's almost harder not to take it all off and fuck him in the middle of his work-day. He has to be back out there in god knows how soon but you can barely keep your legs together without the friction driving you crazy.

He breathes slow trying to maintain his composure- huffs as his fingers press along the folds of your cunt. "You're so wet, fuck," He drops his chin against your shoulder "Never seen you like this"

"You look good when you're all in front of the camera, my love," You huff, an arm around his middle as you draw him close. Your voice is close next to his ear, speaking soft. "A waste you can't fuck me right now,"

There's something like a low growl in his throat when he finally gives you what you. Katsuki knows your body like the back of his hand - every inch of you memorized. Precise, angular movements. He circles your clit a few times before moving down further. You can feel the tight space get tighter, the heel of his hands pressing against your clit as his fingers push past your entrance.

You bite back a moan so broken it's pitiful and he groans with you. He goes slowly at first, tries to ease you into the sensation of his fingers. His are so much thicker and so much longer, noticeable as you feel him stretch your pussy out. He presses the heel of his hand up a little more to give you everything.

"How the hell am I supposed to go out there?" He grits. "Talking to me like that like I'm not about to go back out there."

"I'll let you fuck me as much as you want as a sorry, I promise."

He scoffs at you, makes a point of it as both of his fingers slide into you. He always starts with his middle - feels around for the sweet spot until you're gripping at him harder. After he finds it, he adds his ring finger. He stiffens when you moan, his own arousal starting to show in his face. Red eyes all clouded with desire so deep it could drown.

A honeyed feeling blooms in your core. Burns hot like sugar as you spread your legs to give him more room to you. Your body is so hot, so molten - you give up on everything else. On thinking, on breathing, on keeping quiet. You slump into the mirror behind you as he sets a motion. His fingers curl towards him over and over, rubbing and pushing and grinding against your pulsing core. Against your g-spot, throbbing insides trembling with each gesture.

Your voice breaks out. A deep, needy moan punched from your lungs. He stares at you before ducking into your space. His teeth scrape against the skin near your jaw, kissing and biting and licking. He pays attention to the sweet spot underneath your ear.

"Look at you," He says, like he's gloating. You think he is. If you weren't so aroused you might be able to pay it some mind. "Gonna cum on my fucking fingers, huh?"

"Fuck, Katsuki. Fuck me, fuck."

"I'll make good on that promise, damn tease." He says with a laugh. Biting and cocky and egotistical. Unbearably sexy at the worst of times. It's effecting you more than you care to admit, but you don't have the capacity to pull away from him. "Makin' me do this to you in the middle of my work day like some kinda freak."

"Like it doesn't turn you on,"

He laughs, deep and low. "That's the problem, dumbass."

"Kat," You shudder, your back arching - eyes fluttering closed as you grip his arm. You can feel the way his muscle flexes under your nail, digging into your arm. You groan and whine, cunt clenching around his fingers. It's dripping, noisy as he draws the mess out of you. "Gonna cum."

"Make a mess. Show it to me."

The sound of his voice, gravel coarse and low - is what ends up pushing you over the edge you're sure. Your orgasm crashes into so quickly and with so much force. You barely keep yourself from screaming. Your boyfriend kisses you to swallow whatever other noises you make - seemingly eager to do it. He puts his tongue into your mouth, stifling any other remaining noise.

Your body is pulses, pussy fluttering as shocks of euphoric flit through your whole body and leave you in complete and utter wreckage. Katsuki fucks you through it like the overachiever he tends to be, his fingers highlighting the soft sticky noises of your orgasm as you finish.

Your whole body shakes as a result of your lust. Not entirely gone but at least somewhat tamped down. You let your eyes flutter open as Katsuki pulls his hand away.

Before he can wipe his fingers down, you grab his wrist and pull them up to your mouth. He looks at you startled at first before he realizes, a look of pure lust settling on his features. Carmine red eyes stare down at you hard as you lick your cum off of his hand with a tired smile.

"Take more pictures for me to get off on and come fuck me before we go, okay?"

"Fucking evil little brat." He hisses, kissing you. He moans when he tastes you on him. "Don't think about anything but me while I'm gone."

You shake your head, trying to make sense of anything. "Don't think I could."

He laughs good-naturedly, kissing you again. "Damn right,"

[jj-one]

SALTY & SWEET 🥣

pairing: established relationship, nerdy bf!dom!Jungkook x gf!reader, jk is around 21/22 in this genre/tags: smut, (some) fluff, angst, degradation, praise kink, oral (m receiving), facef*cking, food play, c*m play, c*m eating, use of word daddy (once) words: 981

**old repost from my deleted blog

Oh you sad, sad little thing… always finding yourself in these compromising situations. The whole morning went as normal with Jungkook, he was super nice to you and smothered you with lots of loving kisses! But once he arrived back home from classes his entire mood shifted completely.

“Get on your knees, wanna use that pretty little mouth of yours right now.” Jungkook was hovering over you as you sat down.

You were just minding your business on the couch eating a bowl of strawberries when he said that to you.

“W-what?” Your eyes bug out of your head like a deer in headlights.

“Did I stutter? On your knees NOW!” His voice becomes more stern.

You squirm to get up, not wanting to waste another minute incase he gets angrier. Your body feels shaky from his intimidating persona, he usually comes off as sweet and caring but when he’s mad he becomes almost sadistic.

It didn’t take long for him to end up down your throat. All 7 inches of him being taken by you. You kept choking and gagging but the more you did it the more Jungkook would just keep pushing your head back down. His fingers latching onto your hair and thrusting his hips harder to get more of his cock deeper in your throat.

“C’mon, you can take it like the little pathetic slut you are. You’re my precious little pup right?”

His words made you so fucking wet for him.

You wanted to please him in the best way you could. Bobbing your head back and forth, his spit combined with your saliva all over your face. Jungkook likes it messy though, he also loves shooting his load out on your face after a long day. You acted like nothing but a toy for him to use, just a fuckdoll he can manipulate and dump all his cum into when he’s frustrated.

His glasses were sliding down to his nose as he keeps lowering his head to get a finer view of you. Your fucked out face was so angelic to him, so divine… you looked the most beautiful when you had Jungkook’s cock buried in your mouth.

“There atta-girl… such a good little slut for me aren’t you?” The way he talks to you will be your true weakness.

You had to prove your love to him. Your devotion. You wanted his cum as a reward so you had to work hard for it and push through the pain. You try humming to loosen up your vocal cords and take him better, the vibrations sent chills up his spine and he almost lost his balance for a second. Feeling the way he throbbed and twitched on your tongue made you moan against his shaft.

“Fuck yeah… good girl my good little fucking princess…”

You kept letting him throatfuck you and the tears came rolling down now. He loved seeing you become a crying fucked out mess for him, it filled his heart with the utmost joy.

“Aww.. my darling’s getting teary eyed, can’t take all of it huh??”

Your jaw hurts so bad but you can’t stop now, you have only one goal to achieve and that was to make your boyfriend cum all over your pretty face. His cock slammed into your uvula and you made a loud gagging noise, he would just grin and keep pushing hisself in you relentlessly. He laughed at your misery, the way your knees buckled and quivered while being under him.

He wouldn’t be laughing for too much longer though, one more thrust to the back of your throat would leave him nearly unable to talk. His body felt paralyzed. Eyes were violently rolling to the back of his head as he feels his release approaching. He jerks his hips back and quickly pulls out of your mouth. He doesn’t bring his cock to your face though, instead his attention is drawn to the bowl of strawberries you were eating from earlier.

He stands in front of it on the couch and viciously strokes his cock, large white ropes of cum come trickling down onto the fresh strawberries. Once he finishes he looks back at you now with an evil grin.

“Get on all fours for me doll.” He instructs you.

You do as you’re told, getting on your hands and knees, crawling your way towards him. He takes ones of the strawberries— that are now all coated with his hot delicious cum and brings it to your lips.

“Open wide.”

You open your mouth and he plops the strawberry in, you immediately close your mouth to start chewing. The strawberry was so sweet and juicy while Jungkook’s cum was warm and salty, this might be the perfect combination you’ve ever tried.

“Taste’s good right princess?”

You nod your head and finally speak “Yes, so yummy daddy, want to eat more!”

“Then go ahead, eat more.”

You dip your face in the bowl of strawberries and eat another one. You can’t get over how good his cum tastes with the savory fruit. He pets the top of your head like you were a kitten, just grinning at the sight of you eagerly eating his cum.

“Such a naughty little girl… you really are a huge slut.” He degrades you more, wrapping his hand around your neck as he lifts you from being on all fours.

You’re back on your knees again facing him while he kept a tight grip on you. The way this man had you so down bad for him, you were willing to let him do absolutely anything to satisfy his needs. Your body couldn’t stop trembling under his touch, he had you perfectly the way he wanted.

“Still look so pretty, even after sucking off my cock..” his hold on you was only getting tighter at this point.

“So obedient for me, always.”

[stilinskibaby]

brother's best friend.

PAIRING : stiles stilinski x mccall!reader.

CONTENT : fluff ๑ angst ๑ smut

it started out as a childhood crush, as most longterm infatuations do. you couldn't have been older than four when you met stiles, your stiles. he was missing his front tooth and he spoke with a lisp.

he was wildly loud and animated and you know when you're a kid and you think a boy is so cute that you're sure there's hearts in your eyes. he spoke of playing dragons and knights with scott, “oh! and you can be the princess.”

it was a memory that you kept crawling back to, a time much simpler than now. you could have let out a cold laugh, now you were in constant fear of your life, scott’s life, stiles’ life. it wasn't anything you couldn't handle but you wished for the times when all you had to worry about was your silly schoolgirl crush on stiles.

today was surprisingly quiet, just defeating peter and dealing with the deadpool, you were tired. all of you were, but you kept an eye open just on the off chance that something would try to kill one of your friends.

you stared at your reflection in the mirror, and dotted some concealer under your eyes, anything to make it look like you got some sleep last night. you didn't have scott’s powers to fall back on, nor lydia’s intelligence and intuition. everyday you wondered if you'd be another human lost in the fight against the preternatural.

you tried to wipe the thoughts from your head before walking down the main hall of the high school, stiles stood leaning against his locker while your brother talked about god knows what.

you walked up to the two of them and tried to act normal. like stiles isn't a whole foot away from you, like his cologne isn't enough to make your knees quiver, like every little wink, smile and joke doesn't make you wanna beg him to love you.

you'd been dealing with this crush for as long as you have memories, it should be easier by now. it seemed like lately though, it was getting harder. almost like he was purposefully invading all your thoughts.

“helllloooo?” you came back to the present because of stiles’ voice and scott's hand waving in front of your face. your skin warmed from the embarrassment of getting caught zoning out.

“what? sorry, I'm just tired,” you sighed, seemingly having said that alot recently. but dealing with what you can only assume to be a unrequited crush is tiring. especially when that crush happens to be on your brother's best friend.

stiles eyes squinted with disbelief. if there was one thing you hated about the boy, it was his ability to tell when anyone was lying.

“right, anyways,” scott continued eyeing you from the corner of his eyes but you were already zoning out again.

your day continued on like that, just skating by with your mind constantly drifting back to stiles. it felt almost like you were cursed, your brain almost short circuiting whenever you tried to think of literally anything else.

before you knew it, as if on airplane mode you found yourself walking out the doors towards the jeep. since scott started working at the clinic, you'd just been riding home with stiles. and due to the supernatural nature of your life, it's easier this way.

you climbed into the jeep and tried to keep a semblance of calm. stiles scent was invading your nostrils, with his lacrosse gear in the back seat and him sitting directly next to you. a soft song played on the radio, and if your emotions weren't getting the best of you ; you'd romanticize the man before you.

you were almost never quiet when left alone with stiles, it almost like you don't know how to shut up when around him. so the silence filling the jeep was becoming a bit much even for the hyperactive mind of stiles stilinski.

“you sure you're okay, sunshine?” his hand awkwardly patted your leg. stiles has been calling you sunshine forever, it's yours-and-his special little thing and even when you feel like the world is crushing you, it still gives you butterflies.

you had be around ten, you sat on the bus one seat in front of stiles and scott. stiles was talking mindlessly about lydia ( 12 year olds and their crushes ). and some kid was in the seat in front of you talking about how weird you were. being just a kid, you were almost to tears until stiles heard what the unkind words sprouted from the kid’s mouth.

“you don't even know what you're talking about! she's like sunshine.”

you found yourself blushing and feeling embarrassed, just for the kid to start making fun of you and stiles.

you let the silence hang a bit longer, trying to buy some time to tell a somewhat believable lie. the jeep came to a stop in front of stiles’ house. your eyebrows knit together trying to remember if there was some prior agreement that you forgot about.

“i think i know exactly what you need!” stiles spoke excitedly, and your heart felt like it was gonna fall out of your chest.

“a-and what's that?” you tried to convey a sarcastic tone but your voice shook as spoke. you prayed to whoever was listening that he didn't notice.

his eyes scanned your face as if trying to pry into your mind and it would give him all the answers. “movie night! i know we haven't done one in forever, but i think it'll help get your mind off whatever is bothering you. I know scott is usually here for this,” he sighed a little and rubbed the back of his neck.

your heart warmed, you couldn't believe the absolute kindness this boy had to offer. though every moment around him, was a kick to ego and a kiss for your heart.

“thank you, stiles,” his hand still awkwardly sat on your thigh, burning a metaphorical hole through your jeans.

he grinned that big smile, the one where his whole face turns into pure joy. it took everything in you not to just kiss him right there. and right as you began to get the courage he pops open his door and falls out the jeep. you chuckled to yourself bitterly.

you followed him into his room where you plopped yourself down on the bed. “so what's on tonight, star wars again?” you giggled as you watched him fumble through his dvds.

“actually, i rented heathers last night just for you, i know it's your favorite!” this boy was going to kill you.

and just like old times, he made popcorn and let you lay on his chest. you thought you might throw up. watching your favorite film, with the biggest crush of your life and it started to feel like you were suffocating.

you sat up anxiously, leaning against the wall, stiles’ head lazily rolled to the side, watching your every move.

“stiles,” your voice shook, your lips quivered and you were rubbing your hands intensely.

“hey! woah, hey, it's okay, whatever it is, it's okay, what's got you so upset? did you kill someone or something?” he tried to joke and relieve the tension and at this moment you think that might be an easier conversation.

“no, no, nothing like that,” the Perception of rejection was getting to you, an anvil falling on your heart. you laughed bitterly, “actually, now it feels so dumb. i just, stiles, i-i love you. i love you so much and i cant, i tried to swallow it and for a while that worked,” you were basically sobbing now eyes closed and lip shaking and you were about to lose your breath.

“but i can't, and I can't keep pretending i dont, but it's killing me and that feels dramatic but please, please don't hate me.” he knew this was very serious for you, a girl that almost never let anyone see her cry. amd he didn't mean to, and he feels so bad for it but he laughs, it just thr awkwardness that's in his bones.

“i’m sorry, i’m sorry, please I didn't mean to laugh, but i guess it just seems so silly to me that you wouldn't just tell me or someone and let it get so bad.” he pauses almost like he's trying to find his words. and all you can think about is running, running as fast as you can but his hand is on your leg and you'd feel so bad for it.

“i can't believe you could be so oblivious, I've been trying to hint to you for years now that i felt the same,” you didn't let him finish his sentence instead, doing what you've always wanted to do : kiss him. your lips mold together perfectly, you felt so far away, like you were in a dream.

the dream felt more hazy, when his hands find your hips and pull you into his lap. you can feel his cock hardened underth you, restrained by his jeans. you grind against and whimper into his mouth.

“stiles, stiles if you don't do something right now,” your words were breathless, somewhere between a whimper and a whine. his fingers move quickly to undo his jeans, while you shed yourself of everything but your bra and panties. you always wore cute panties in a secret way to manifest this happening.

as soon as he has you below, his hands are moving to grope your tits, he groans, eyes scanning every inch of your body, trying to commit every part of you to memory.

“fuck, you're so pretty, baby.” his words go straight to your core, warm, wet and clenching around nothing. you're thoughtless, the only thing left in your mind is him, so you just whine.

his fingers trace around your hips and slide your thong to the side to get a view of your beautiful cunt.

“you ready?” you nod, and he shakes his head, as if a new man. “say it,” as his hands slide over every part of your body except where you need him most.

“m ready, please stiles need you, need your cock. please, please” you were practically begging so pumped himself a few times before sheathing his full length into your cunt. it's so deliciously painful.

“mm such a good girl, taking me so well,” he pressed his lips against your forehead in a long kiss. before giving you long thick strokes, ans his hand reaching between you to rub little circles onto your clit. you were seeing white as continued to fuck you, your fingernails scraping against his pale skin.

his teeth gritted as he moaned, trying so hard to hold back. “m close, please please.” you whined and he fucked you faster, and harder. rough groans falling out of his lips.

your climax was closing in on your, your nails skating harder against him, your legs closing in around his hips. you basically screamed your orgasm out against stiles neck. he chuckled to himself, proud he could do all this. he funally let go, fucking you both through your climaxes. and keeping his now soft cock in your cunt, to keep his cum in you. thank god for birth control.

[solbaby7]

Killing Me Softly

pairing: cassian x reader

[ part 2 ]

warnings: swearing, violence, blood, jealous themes, angst

summary: [based off that episode in greys were Mer got beaten by that patient who didn’t remember anything when they woke up]

—

It had started out as a normal fight.

Something small and fixable.

But somewhere along the way, things had snowballed and the playful Cassian you’d always known had disappeared before your very eyes. “You have a responsibility,” His tone is firm; slightly condescending and you can feel the attitude beginning to form when his arms cross over his chest. Cassian shoulders squared out, spine straight and wings pulled taut as he stood his ground. “The answer is no.”

“Cass, you’re not even listening. I told you I had this planned a week ago,” It comes out rushed, brows furrowed as you tried to meet something else besides that hard wall behind hazel eyes. “Besides it’s the med wing, they always have volunteers coming in to help—it’s just one date.”

“This really isn’t up for discussion,” His steely exterior nearly crumbles to pieces when he sees the way you visibly deflate, fingers grazing over the pretty dress you’d spent three days searching for with Mor and Cass had to pretend to be thrilled when you came barreling through his bedroom door with it in hand. You were beaming, smile so wide he thought your cheeks would split in two. “Now, go get changed.”

Guilt bubbles in his belly at the sight of you, jaw clenched tight and eyes blinking furiously to push back the frustrated tears; you had been really excited. You say nothing when you breeze past him, making sure not to touch him or make eye contact when you disappear back where you came and Cass doesn’t even need to turn around to know the way Azriel is looking at him. “Thought you said the med-wing was fully staffed? Easy day, you said.”

“Don’t even start.”

“It was just one date, she bought a dress and everything.” Az doesn’t buckle at the remorse that begins to scrunch at hard features, hands that clench and unclench at his sides as Cass battled a war that didn’t take prisoners. “If you won’t act on your feelings for her then leave her be so she can be happy.”

“Seriously, mind your fucking business.” Cassian all but snarls, golden eyes like burning lava when regarding his brother; the words hitting much harder than and punch. “She had a job to do and she’ll be here doing it. We don’t have time for stupid dresses and dates when people are dying.”

You don’t speak when you re-emerge in something more sturdy, medical equipment neatly organized in a bag that you held loosely in one hand. A whole folder of papers had been shoved in your grasp from a brooding General, inky hair flying away from his face when the wind cut through on his speedy departure. Frustration builds but you don’t allow it to overcome you, ignoring Azriel’s inquisitive stare, arms crossed over his chest and thick leathers hugging muscular thighs. “You okay?”

You sigh, gesturing to the stack of papers while you begin down the hall. “I’m busy.”

Times flows significantly slower now that you’re aware you’re missing something of importance; you’d really been looking forward to dressing up. Taking special time on your hair and the dark kohl that Mor insisted would make your eyes pop. The bittersweet daydream of what could’ve been is interrupted by the ruffled patient, his body covered in a serious of wrappings and notes near his side table on the tonics he’d been given—heavy duty sedatives and even stronger pain alleviants. Dosages so high there was no was he should’ve been moving, eyes blinking into consciousness and slurred speech stumbling from his tongue. “Where am I?”

“Sir, it’s okay just relax. I’m only here to help.”

“I shouldn’t be here,” Your hands are gentle when they reach out for him in attempts to soothe but it only makes him more agitated, arms whipping around wildly and his volume steadily increases. “Who are you? Why am I here?”

“Sir, please. If you just calm down I can explain—you were hurt, I’m only here to help.”

Rational thought and logic make no home in the frantic patients mind, his terrifyingly sturdy grip latches onto your shoulder. You’re jostled in close, bandages and antiseptic falling from your grasp and you only have time for one sharp yelp before his hands are wrapped around your neck. It takes alarmingly little effort for him to get to his feet, slamming your form down on the cot he’d been recovering in for days. Broken noises pull from your throat, nails scratching at his arms and face and whatever skin you can get your hands on, punching and kicking and reaching for anything to help and just as a black spots line your vision you finally get a good kick in, enough to push you from his hands and your body tumbles to the floor with a thud.

Deep heaving breaths pull from you, sucking in as much oxygen as your lungs will allow and tears you didn’t even realize you’d let out are streaming down the curve of your cheeks as you struggle to gain your footing, to get out of the room but hands are back around your arms. A broken cry fills the air when your face is shoved into the wall, heavy weight pushing you over and over until blood pooled from your temple and choked noises caught in your throat.

You can’t even remember when it stopped, a darkness overtaking you but even that’s abruptly ripped away from you for what feels like just seconds later. Someone screaming, strangled, pain filled shouts when you feel a set of hands on your body, lifting you from the floor and setting you on a cool table. “She’s awake,” You hear Madja firmly speak, hands quick yet sturdy when reaching into her bag to pull out medical grade scissors. “Anyone not necessary needs to leave.”

“She’s family, we aren’t leaving her.” Azriel retorts even stronger, leaving no room for discussion and you can feel the warmth of his hands on your own when he looks down at you. “You’re going to be okay, we’re here. We’re all here.”

You can’t even form words, eyes watery and panicked when darting between both of his own and the grip you have on his fingers when the healer pressed down on your abdomen is enough to have him barking at her for pain relief. “I can’t just give her things without a full assessment.”

“Assess faster—she’s in too much pain.”

Everything goes in one ear and out the other; you keep trying to speak, to beg them to please stop poking there and prodding at that bruise and asking if it hurt there, because it hurt everywhere. Broken whines pull from your throat, chest heaving and limbs trembling so hard the table shook. “I can feel three—no four broken ribs, collarbone fracture on the right side, shoulders dislocated on the right as well.” Madja begins, voice almost void of any emotion as she drifts from a person to a woman in charge. The High Lord in standing near your head, murmuring encouraging words while soaking in the information, a grim expression shared between him and the shadowsinger. “Damage to the brain is possible with such intense trauma to her head; two males had to physically pull the patient off of her.”

“Why would he even do this?” Rhys takes the warm cloth handed to him and gently begins to drag it over your forehead, trying his best to comfort you through the agony. “She’s harmless—she wouldn’t have hurt a fly.”

“It was the first time he’d been lucid since we’d found him; he doesn’t even remember what happened.”

Half a dozen more healers filter in the room with handfuls of equipment, eyes filled with worry when regarding one of their own but they quickly shake it off and step into line to assist. Azriel snarls at Madja’s words, stomach clenching in disdain at the helpless groans you let out, head lolling from side to side, tears treading trails into your hair as the pain overwhelms you.

Madja skims a knuckle over your jaw on accident when accessing the harsh bruising at your throat and the yelp that pulls is absolutely devastating. “Grab the restraints and hold her down,” The healer commands to the others, insisting they wrap them tighter while ignoring the deep shouts of the two males guarding you like their lives depended on it. “Her jaw is broken,” A heavy sigh pulls from Madja, dark hair tightly braided behind her shoulders. “—I have to set it and it won’t be fun so help me or get out of the room so we can do our jobs.”

Rhysand’s fingers are running through your hair, Azriel’s thumb rubbing soothing circles along the back of your hands and you feel the exact moment they both go stiff, heads turning to face the towering figure that stuttered to a stop in the doorway. “I’ll hold her arms,” The shadowsinger holds your arms with a firmness you hadn’t experienced from him before, soft apologies being whispered into your ears when your heart rate surges. “Cass, hold her legs. She needs to be still.”

The General doesn’t move, eyes wide and mouth hung open when he takes in your form. The clothes that were cut from your body, the countless amounts of thick gauze and medical towels soaked with your blood pooling in piles on the floor. Warbled streaks of crimson red is a stark contrast against the white floors; the smeared print of ten fingers and two palms drag along the wall, the small side table and the around door handle—you’d just nearly gotten away. “Cassian,” Azriel snaps, the rough tone ripping him from his trance. “Hold down her legs, now.”

The shock doesn’t wear off even if he does do as he’s told, golden eyes stuck on every bruise, ears painfully attuned to every whimper, every cry and gut-wrenching scream when your jaw was forced open, the bone shifting with a deafening crunch. “Please, please, please.” You barely get the words out; speech slurred, sweat lacing your forehead, body shaking so hard from the pain you couldn’t tell what was up from down. “Please, make it stop. Please, I’ll do anything—please stop.”

“Give her something!” Rhys snapped, wiping away tears and bracing you from moving around too much.

Madja scoffs, outnumbered and overwhelmed she calls for a tonic, allowing a higher dose than normal and your relief is instant. Deep cries fade to drawn out whimpers before your whole form goes eerily limp. “This will not be an easy recovery; if you think that was bad, just wait.” Quick hands make work of setting your shoulder with a sharp jolt and another healer is wrapping it in thick bandages to keep it in place. “Why was she even in here? The form specifically stated that supervision was required for this patient—she shouldn’t have been alone.”

“She shouldn’t have been here at all,” One of the healers muttered under her breath, hands quick and careful when tucking your hair behind your ear and dabbing your face clean of the blood that had started drying. “—she had a date today. I took this shift for her so she could go. She’s been talking about it all week.”

A silence fills the room and Rhys follows the sharp stare Azriel had trained on the General who’d been stuck in place at your feet. His hands shake where they rest near your calves, gaze seemly stuck on the socks you wore, fabric torn and stained in your own blood and he can just picture how hard you’d struggled trying to escape. Cassian says nothing, not when the others seem to catch on; putting together a piece of the puzzle in his silence—the shock that settles in every pore and the guilt that radiated from his burly form.

He only watches as they collect the soiled gauze off the floor, antiseptic filling the space when they begin to scrub your handprints off the wall, sweeping up the drywall that gave way from the pure strength put into smashing your body to pieces. “Four broken ribs,” Azriel’s voice is unnervingly calm when the last of the healers filter out, the door shutting behind with a soft click. “—a fractured collarbone; she was thrown into the wall so hard her shoulder popped out of socket.” Rhys takes a step forward, a hand raised to stop the shadowsinger but he’s sharply cut off, Az’s tone getting just a bit deeper when he stalks towards Cassian like predators did their prey. “He nearly shattered her skull—she’d be dead if it weren’t for one of the other patients. They heard her scream and found me.” Inky shadows slink around Azriel’s shoulders, but it’s the hand that pushes Cassian a step away from you that finally gains his attention.

“Azriel—“ Rhysand begins to intercept but abruptly pauses when the spymaster continues, fingers pointed at the leader of the Night Courts armies.

“You made her stay today because you were jealous.”

The High Lord goes still, violet eyes sliding from one friend to the other. “What?”

“She had a date and Cass was jealous because he has feelings for her and is too afraid to say anything.” Azriel can’t seem to stop once he’s started; such pure rage burning beneath his skin at the selfishness that resulted in such unimaginable pain.

“You think any of that matters right now?” Cassian doesn’t even sound like himself; no booming voice or need to make his point, no logical facts and carefully thought out points. He can’t even stop looking at you, eyes glassy and shoulders slumped when remembering what you’d looked like just two hours earlier. “I thought I didn’t deserve her before but now—after this? I know I don’t.”

[dreamescapeswriting]

All Warmed Up ~ BC

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

GENRE: angst with a fluffy ending, chan not realising/ignoring that the reader is sick, sick reader, caring for you, Noway I'd forgive him wihtout some major grovelling tbf though

PAIRING: Chan x Fem!Reader

⤜Copyright: © DreamEscapesWriting - January 2024

⤜MASTERLIST

For days this headache had been brewing for you, it had started as nothing more than a dull pain in the front of your head but as time went on it continued to get worse and worse until you could barely stand it anymore. You’d called in sick to work for days now and it was getting to the point where your boss was beginning to get annoyed with you for it, not that you could help it when your body decided to make you ill though.

Normally you weren’t the type to let some sort of bug or flu keep you down but this one seemed to be knocking you down again and again and it was a struggle for you to even keep your eyes open. It was hard for you to even go to the bathroom without feeling so light-headed you were going to fall so you held onto the walls whenever you walked.

“Channie?” You coughed out as you heard him getting up, or getting in you weren’t entirely sure what time it was since the blackout curtains were still drawn shut keeping everything out. It was the only thing keeping your headache somewhat muted at this point and you were doing everything to keep any form of light out of your way. Your phone hadn’t been turned on since yesterday and you were laid in complete darkness, something that seemed to be helping you an awful lot lately.

“What are you doing in bed?” Chan grumbled a little harshly as he made his way over the windows throwing the curtains open and blinding you instantly as you let out a choked whine. 

“I’m sick.” You grumbled pulling the sheets over your head but it was as though he’d not heard you as he grabbed his bag and pulled his laptop free from his bag. You knew he’d been working harder than usual lately since their new album was dropping any second but this was somehow different to any other comeback stress you’d seen your boyfriend under.

He’d barely had time to look away from the screen to eat, let alone look at you and see the state that you were in and you didn't hate him for it. The two of you had an understanding that when he was so busy you weren't going to hear from him much, but knowing he was alive and eating was enough for you when he was in comeback mode. 

But it annoyed you as to why he was asking why you were home, you’d told him all week that you hadn’t been feeling well, texting him that you were home and for him to be quiet when he came in but all of the notifications were read but never replied to. Hell, you'd even asked him to pick you up some cold patches and he had. Had he forgotten you were sick that quickly?

You didn’t take it to heart since you knew he was busy but it started to grate you that he didn’t even act as though he cared that you were so sick. Not that you were doing it to gain his attention but to know your boyfriend cared wasn't too much to ask, was it?

Chan mumbled something you didn’t quite hear before slipping his headphones onto his head and starting to work on his laptop, you slowly peeked out from under the blankets and groaned as the sun felt like it was burning your eyes into raisins. 

“Fuck,” You grumbled reaching to the bedside cabinet for the sunglasses you’d kept nearby for when you had to venture to the bathroom and you slid them on slowly standing up. The clock on the wall said it was almost nine which meant you were once again not going to work and you needed to phone your boss.

“Have you seen my phone?” You mumbled out, searching around the bed for when you last saw it but it was nowhere in sight and it wasn’t even on the bedside cabinet either. You could have sworn you left it near you last night for when you were eventually going to need to use it again.

“Channie?” You asked out before tapping his shoulder and a very annoyed-looking Chan turned to look at you. There were bags under his eyes and you could bet he hadn't slept the night before,

“What?!” He bit out, staring at you and waiting impatiently for you to ask him whatever it was.

“Have you seen my phone? I need to call in sick.” You didn’t even react to his angry voice, you didn’t have the energy to.

“You’re calling in sick again?” Disbelief masked his tone as he turned his head back to look at the screen,

“I can barely move without feeling dizzy and I have this giant headache,” You groaned rubbing your temples a little before Chan pulled his headphones over his head.

Maybe he somehow thought you weren’t going to hear him but the next sentence made your heart break into a million tiny pieces,

“You need to get over yourself, there are people worse off that are still going to work.” At this point, between him not even acknowledging that you were sick and his words it felt as though your heart had just been put through a paper shredder and you didn’t know what to do with yourself.

The response you had for him died in your throat when you saw him going straight back to working on his project. Somewhere inside of you, you knew that he was just acting out of stress but it didn’t stop the achingness you were now feeling inside of you. And maybe he was right? People did go to work when they were sick but you’d never been one of those people, you could barely function when a migraine came on and you would always take time off to start trying to feel better. 

So instead of phoning in sick you moved to the wardrobe very shakily, changed into some work clothes and carefully made your way out of the house and into the street. With how dizzy you were feeling you grabbed a cab not wanting to put anyone else or yourself in danger if you were to drive to work.

After a few hours of working in his room, Chan finally slipped off his headphones and smiled to himself pretty proud of how everything had come together. It was done and it was good, perfect even but he would never admit that. Everything was composed and edited and ready to be put into an album for review with the company and he couldn’t have been any happier with how it had gone. Now all he wanted to do was celebrate with you, go out and grab some food and then come back and do nothing for a few days since he would have some time off.

“Yn?! I finished, do you wanna go out and grab some food?” He called out as he walked out of the bedroom expecting to find you on the sofa but the house was quiet and cold and you were nowhere in sight. 

“Yn?” He tapped on the bathroom door before opening it and finding it empty and panic began to wash over him, if you weren’t in the house where were you? You should have finished work hours ago and been home long before now. Sprinting back to your shared room he grabbed his phone to check where you were and he had missed calls from unknown numbers and a few from the boys. But there was a blinking voicemail at the top of his screen.

“Hello Mr Bang, this is Doctor Kush from Seoul General Hospital, we have Miss Yln here and you’re listed as her emergency contact, please contact us again on this number.” Dread began to crush Chan like a ton of bricks and he tried calling your phone only it was going straight to voicemail, next he was calling the boys who appeared to be ignoring his calls. 

“I’m fine Lix,” You hissed trying to get out of the hospital bed but his hands kept pushing you back to lie down on the bed shaking his head at you. You'd wished they'd not called anyone but you'd been out cold so you couldn't tell them not to call anyone for you.

“I need to go to work, I’m fine.” It was a lie and you knew it but the words Chan had said to you kept bouncing around in your head and you couldn’t stop them. In a sick twisted way, your head was telling you to prove him right, that you could go it and go to work when you were sick and you couldn’t see just how wrong he was.

“I will ask them to sedate you if you don’t lay down right now.” Felix’s voice was stern and you stared at him with his unblinking eyes and knew that he was serious with his threat.

“What were you even thinking going to work?” after the hospital couldn’t get hold of Chan they’d called your second emergency contact in your phone which happened to be Felix who was a little overprotective of you. The two of you were close with one another and had been ever since you'd started dating Chan he was like a brother to you and you adored the relationship you had with him.

“I thought I felt better.” Felix didn’t believe it for one second as he noticed your top lip twitch and your nose wriggle, a clear sign that you were lying to him.

“And the real reason?” Felix stared at you and the two of you failed to notice that Chan was standing at the door and panting heavily out of breath. He'd been running from the car park and up the stairs since the elevators were taking too long for him to even get inside.

“There are people worse off than me that still go to work, so I should get over it and go.” The words drove a knife through Chan’s chest, almost as much as seeing you hooked up to an IV did and he felt as though he was going to throw up.

He hadn’t expected you to hear him and he didn’t even know why he’d said it to you, it wasn’t as though he’d meant it - not to you at least, never to you. 

Of all people, Chan knew just how bad your migraines got to you but he’d just been so stressed with work and he’d been hearing people complain about how sick they were, too sick to help him edit the album and he snapped. It was wrong and he was going to make it up to you every second of every day for the rest of his life if you let him.

“Yn, I’m sorry.” You and Felix’s heads snapped in his direction and you quickly looked down at your hands on the bed, you didn't want to face him right now or for a while at least. It pained you to think of everything he'd said back at home,

“What happened?” Chan asked you but you refused to even look at him so Felix stepped in, clearing his throat as he told Chan everything that the doctors had told him.

“She passed out at work and fell down a flight of stairs,” Felix explained and you grimaced a little. You'd just made it inside the building and got to your floor before passing out, part of you was thankful it wasn't in the street since that would have been even more embarrassing. 

“What?!” Chan's eyes widened as he stared at you, searching for any signs of broken bones or injuries but you were just laid in bed with an IV in your arm.

“She’s fine, her migraine is worse so they're treating her with acetaminophen and she has a sprained ankle but it could have been a lot worse.” It could have been, Right now you would have given anything to still be passed out so you didn’t have to face Chan but you knew it was inevitable.

“I’ll give you some time alone.” The door to your room slid shut and you slowly looked up to see your boyfriend looking at you with tears in his eyes.

“I’m sorry-” Chan tried to say but you didn't want to hear it,

“Save it.” You hissed out, staring at him as he shook his head as if he was trying to find the words to say.

“But I am, I’ve just been-”

“Stressed?” You finished with a scoff, you wanted to shake your head but any movement you made honestly made you feel as though you were going to fall over again. 

“I’ve heard the same excuse time and time again Chan and it’s getting harder for me to forgive every time,” Your voice cracked as you got the words out and Chan sat on the chair beside your bed, holding your hand in his as he ran his fingers over your skin.

“I was spiteful and rude. I took out my anger from everyone else on you and it’s not fair.” He admitted,

“True.” You mumbled as he lifted your hand to his lips and softly placed a kiss on your skin, smiling weakly as he thought about it. There were going to be no words he could even express to tell you how sorry he was,

“Everyone at work had been calling in sick when they were fine and I just snapped. It was wrong and nasty but I just-”

“Let the dame break and I was collateral damage?” You mumbled bitterly before looking at him and he nodded at you slowly.

“And I will do everything I can to make it up to you.” You smirked a little at the thought of what you could get out of him and he watched you closely,

“Spoiler for the new album?”

“Anything but that.” He groaned, you knew he would never be allowed to no matter how much you begged.

“Take me home?” You knew he was sorry for what he’d said and it was still going to take a while before you got over it but all you wanted right now was to go home and be in his arms.

“I’ll talk to your doctor.” He whispered before gently kissing the top of your head and walking out of the room to go and find someone who knew your case.

Since coming home from the hospital Chan had been a completely different person toward you, work was wiped completely from his mind and he had been caring for you every second of the day. The night you'd come home from the hospital he'd run you a bath but used a baby thermometer to check that the water wasn't too hot for you to get into and wouldn't let you bathe alone.

The whole time he'd been there, he'd washed your body for you and helped make sure your hair didn't get wet. After that, he'd taken you to bed where he got you a warm hot water bottle to place on your ankle and changed it to ice whenever he needed to.

Now was no different, besides the fact that you felt completely fine and well enough to go back to your normal day-to-day business.

“You know I feel fine now right?” You asked as Chan tucked you into a blanket on the sofa and placed a hot drink on the table that was within arm's reach of you. 

“I just want to make sure.” He mumbled as he pushed play on your comfort film and went to go and get his own hot drink.

“Chan, the doctor gave me the all-clear four days ago.” you reminded him but he pouted at you in response making you giggle at him. You knew he was sorry for the way he had treated you and this was one of the only ways he was able to make it up to you so you were doing your best to let him.

“I love you,” You told him as he cuddled up under the blanket with you, holding your hand before squeezing it softly.

“I love you too.” He whispered, holding you close to him not wanting to let you go for even a second.

@chiisaiblog @sw33tnight @kaitieskidmore97 @laylasbunbunny @stayconnecteed @saymyspringrain @toplinehyunjin @katnisspeetaprim @acciocriativity @wolfgurl2600 @just-aelia @choisoorin@straykids5star @minholythighs @midnightfrog625 @beccaskz @compersian @scarletemeterio @alicejustwakeup @halesandy @junhannies @gothic4under4lord @lixie-phoria @soulphoenix1618 @aerastus @jin-from-the-block @peachyproductions @lenfilms @elizaschuyler18 @piratequeen-impact @kpopmenace143 @minhosify @loveforred @kpopstuffs @chaeyoungs @delulu18 @stzatzch @b1nn1e-1s-cut3

[nadvs]

better off (part three) (end)

pairing rafe cameron x female reader

rating mature 18+

summary you and rafe take time apart to try to get better for each other. it’s harder than both of you expected.

warnings toxic relationship, smut

» part one / part two

» masterlist

Rafe knew he’d see you around. He figured that he’d spot you at parties. After all, a party is where you two met.

And he knew it’d be hard to act like strangers. But not this hard.

It’s been almost a week since the day at the marina. As he watches you in the crowd across the room, he’s afraid of breaking some unwritten rule by starting a conversation with you.

You said to give it a few weeks, then you’d talk. It’s been just six days. And he’s losing his mind.

The month of silence after your break-up was hard enough. At least he was just angry then, numbing the pain. But this? Having you at an arm’s length, but leaving you alone for the sake of ‘getting better’?

He felt so stupid getting home after your conversation. He didn’t even know where to start. Staring at his ceiling. Wondering what the hell getting better even looked like.

His friends would laugh their asses off if they saw his search history. ‘How to be a good boyfriend’ has to be among the most embarrassing searches.

That stuff should just come naturally, but he’s been filling up the album named after you in his phone with screenshots. Now, piled up after his favorite photos of you are snippets from advice columns and articles.

Rafe has always felt a twinge deep in his core that he doesn’t measure up. He’s missing something that would deem him good enough. He knew from a young age from the way his anger consumed him that there was something off.

That’s why it felt like a dagger to his heart any time you told him there was something wrong with him. He hated the confirmation. And that’s why he’d say whatever he could to hurt you just as bad.

It always seemed to hit you the hardest when he said no other person would want to put up with you. You shut down whenever he said that. It gave him a sick sense of power. But that’s what he’s trying to get away from. Being sick.

It’s nerve-wracking. Knowing he’ll have to prove himself to you. Wondering if maybe after all this, you’ll come to the conclusion that you shouldn’t be together at all. You said you were bad for each other countless times throughout your relationship.

The anxiety flooding his body sharpens when he sees a guy start talking to you. And you actually start talking back.

Hot, urgent rage flares in his chest. Normally, if you were together, he’d waste no time rushing over there, pushing the idiot away and yelling at you for entertaining him for even a second.

But are you even together? While he wouldn’t be interested in talking to another girl right now, you don’t seem to feel the same way, looking pretty with a smile on your face while you talk to the stranger.

His anger is just getting worse. He needs to get the fuck out of here. He pushes past the crowds and finds himself in a bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

He’s hunched over the sink and staring at the mirror, his lips parted as he breathes heavily. He has coke in his pocket. He wants to use it.

But it always just makes him more wired and paranoid. And he thinks part of getting better is not giving into these sorts of vices. It feels like his only option for some sort of release, though.

He stands up straight, the heels of his hands over his aching eyes as he paces back and forth over the tiled floor. Crying again. It’s all his body has been wanting to do since you broke up, but he usually can find a way to stop through a bottle or a line.

“Stop,” he whispers to himself. “You’re being a fucking pussy. Stop.”

Maybe that guy isn’t a stranger to you. Maybe you’ve been talking to him, planning to leave Rafe in your past. Maybe all this being healthy alone to be healthy together shit is a game you’re playing just to abandon him in the end.

Goddamn it. He’s spiralling.

A few rapid knocks on the door pull him out of his thoughts.

“Fuck off,” he shouts.

“Are you okay?”

He flattens his lips, his heart twisting once he realizes it’s you, the only person he’d open the door for right now.

He looks at his reflection. He turns on the tap to splash cold water on his face so you can’t tell he’s been crying. But in his haste, he wets the front of his shirt too, and lets out a frustrated groan.

He swings open the door. Your eyes are full of worry. And they’re beautiful and look like home. Six days is a fucking eternity.

“Hey,” you say, your brows furrowed. “Did I cross a line or something?“

“What?” Rafe says.

“Why’d you run off after I texted you?”

He feels for his phone in his pocket and pulls it out to see a text from you. Can you save me from this guy?

“I - I didn’t see this,” he stammers. He realizes this means you don’t have him blocked anymore.

“What happened?” you say, your eyes dropping to his chest, a dark, wet splotch spread across his t-shirt.

“Did he do something?” he asks at the same time.

“You first,” you say with a small smile.

“It’s just water,” he says, quick to shift the attention back onto you. “Did he?”

You look over your shoulder, back in the direction of the front room where the party is.

“No, he was just trying to hit on me and I wasn’t in the mood,” you say. You’re relieved Rafe didn’t purposely ditch you after you texted him, like you thought.

It feels so familiar, him being so protective over you. He’s thrown quite a few punches in the name of keeping you safe and claiming you as his.

Maybe it was toxic to like watching your boyfriend swing at guys who made you uncomfortable, but you didn’t care. Other girls would try to pull their boyfriends away from fights. You would watch yours with a smile on your face.

You meet Rafe’s eyes again. Even though you’re the one who told him you wouldn’t speak for a while, you were worried you messed something up by contacting him. But he looks anguished over missing a message from you.

For once, the struggle for dominance between you doesn’t feel like a struggle at all. He so obviously just wants to be good with you again. You hold all the power.

“Don’t stress. It’s fine,” you say sympathetically. “He finally left me alone.”

You don’t tell him you told the pushy guy you were going to look for your boyfriend. Because while you feel optimistic about what the future holds for you and Rafe, you can’t say you’re entirely confident you can both do this. And calling him your boyfriend again feels like too much right now.

The more you think about it, the more you realize just how broken you both are. You’ve been reading about how important it is to learn the underlying reasons for toxic behavior. And the two of you never liked facing your demons.

Rafe shuffles in place. It’s nice to be talking to him again, but by how stiff he seems, you’re doubting that he shares the sentiment.

“Why were you smiling at him?” he mutters.

The edge to his tone and the hard way he’s looking at you throw you right back to when you were dating. To the dread you’d feel when you knew an argument was starting.

“I was being polite,” you say.

“Polite,” he huffs. “If you want to keep your options open, you can just fucking say that.”

That. That’s what keeps you from allowing yourself to slip into the warm comfort of hope. You didn’t expect a change overnight, but this is the exact same man who left you on the marina.

Jealous. Domineering. Combative. No improvement at all.

“Are you hearing yourself?” you say, bitterness swirling in you. “I literally texted you asking you to rescue me.”

“You were giving him attention,” he says, “and then what, he said something you didn’t like and you decided to stop ‘being polite’? If you want to talk to other guys, own up to it.“

Frustration tenses through your muscles.

“I don’t want to talk to other guys,” you state. “I told you, I want to be healthy on my own first.”

“Sure,” he scoffs. You know this feeling all too well, the sense of betrayal when he dismisses you and acts like you’re making shit up.

“So, I’m lying?” you mutter.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” he says. He notices you flinch in embarrassment.

He’s still holding it over you, the way you let him believe you had someone new after you broke up.

You were wrong. The power struggle between you is still very much alive.

“This is exactly why we shouldn’t be talking,” you snap. The ugly impulse to be mean to him rises in you. “This is you trying to better yourself? Dick.”

You turn around to walk away. He hates himself for it. The fear of being left is such a powerful force, always taking him captive, always making him act possessively.

But he’s not wrong. You were smiling at that guy. And you have lied in the past.

He calls your name. You ignore him.

The next morning, you sit on your front porch with your phone in your hand. Rafe texted you early this morning.

Need to work on my jealousy. I know.

It’s weird, witnessing him admit to a wrongdoing. It’s not a sorry. But it’s something.

And despite your rash words, you’re proud of yourself for walking away last night. The old you would’ve stuck around for a screaming match. But you don’t want to be the old you anymore.

You finally reply: i shouldn’t have called you that.

He texts back: I deserved it.

You put your phone down. The exchange was stiff and almost formal, a far cry from how you’d normally speak to each other, but it feels like a step in the right direction.

Days pass. Rafe wishes you replied. He said he deserved it just so you’d say he didn’t.

But he used to do this a lot; saying or doing things just to get a specific reaction out of you. That might be part of what makes him sick.

The next weekend, you don’t see Rafe at your mutual friend’s beach party. It’s strange, considering he hardly ever misses an opportunity to get drunk with his buddies.

You look over to his group of friends for what feels like the hundredth time. He’s not there.

You were looking forward to seeing him. Maybe even talking to him. It’s been two weeks since you decided to try to better yourselves, and even though he hasn’t technically been your boyfriend for a month and a half now, missing him never gets easier.

You pull out your phone every so often, going back and forth between if you should text him. You check his social accounts, having unblocked him and refollowed him a few days ago, to see he hasn’t posted anything lately.

Step by step, you’re making space for him in your life again. Really, the space he once filled never went away. It’s just an empty void now.

This time apart idea is stupid.

You stop yourself from indulging in the thought. You did all the time back when you were dating - it becomes addictive to tell yourself whatever you were fighting over wasn’t a big deal. That you should just be happy to be with Rafe. That the issues don’t matter.

Maybe he didn’t ever really validate you, but you were bad at doing it for yourself, too. You need to remind yourself that this break is important.

But is it so bad to check up on him? Make sure he’s alright?

You pull out your phone and text him: You doing okay?

Your heart drops when the text immediately comes up as undelivered. He blocked you.

After every argument, if anyone blocked anyone, it always was you blocking him. He’d try to find other ways to contact you, sometimes even finding one of your friends on social media to ask to talk to you.

As you stand with your friends, you pretend to scroll through your phone, trying not to cry. One recurring theme in your relationship was that he always accused you of not really caring that much about him, at least not as much as he cared about you.

Your nasty habit of blocking him must be part of the reason why. Because this feeling of outright rejection, of someone clearly showing you they don’t want to hear whatever you want to say, stings.

You liked the power trip of when you blocked him because he always did whatever he could to talk to you again. And you realize just how fucked up that was.

You find an excuse to rush home, not wanting to even mention to your friends why you’re choked up. They’re already apprehensive about you and Rafe actually being able to have a healthy relationship.

You spend the rest of your night in your bed, crying because you and Rafe really did bring out the worst in each other. Because he might have decided he’s done with you and this idea of getting better for each other is not worth the effort.

Your pillow is wet with your tears by the time you finally fall asleep.

You try to spend the next day reading and journalling and imagining a life without Rafe. After the break-up, you were miserable, but you knew separating was what was best.

Now, after the promise you made each other to try to get better, it hurts so much more. You were hopeful. And he shattered that.

You’re desperate to feel the way you used to. When things were good. Your love could be bitter, but when it was sweet, it was incredible.

You once sat on the beach together well past midnight for hours, talking and laughing and cuddling as the waves crashed in front of you.

Now, every conversation turns into a fight. Why does this have to be so hard?

It’s a Thursday night when Rafe thinks about driving up to your spot. It’s a secluded, narrow trailhead that cars can’t get through.

You’d wrap your arms around him so tightly whenever he drove his motorcycle up the pathway. Once he reached the peak, which offers a vista of the island, boasting the beaches as well as the town, you’d sit on a blanket on the ground over the cliffside.

It was almost always quiet up there, a nice break from how loud things always feel for him. You two thought you were the only ones in the world who knew about the place, but other people have left pieces of their own memories there, empty beer bottles scattered around.

Thankfully, though, you’ve never run into anyone else up there.

He remembers one night, sitting next to you, thinking that he genuinely preferred you over everyone, even preferred you over being alone.

He realizes you never fought up there. Not once.

Rafe counts. It’s been eighteen days since your conversation at the marina. You said to take a few weeks. Almost three should be enough. He hopes.

He unblocks your number and texts you: Down to go to our spot? I can pick you up.

The anxiety as he waits for your response is almost paralyzing. Then, you reply: ok.

Holding Rafe again while on the back of his bike, smelling him, feeling his warmth, makes your chest tighten with the threat of tears.

You didn’t say much when you hopped on. You don’t say anything when you make it to the hill’s peak. You watch him grab the blanket he always carries in his bike’s rear trunk, bunched up in his big hands.

It’s all a fluid motion, working together how you always did before, flattening the blanket over the patches of dirt and grass and sand.

Rafe always got freaked out when you got too close to the edge, so you sit closer to the blanket’s far corner for his comfort.

He sits a foot away from you, his legs bent, arms resting on his knees. You haven’t looked at each other for longer than a second.

The sun is setting soon. The air is thick between you. It’s like you’re both afraid of breaking the silence.

You lick your lips, gazing out at the orange horizon of where sky meets sea. You see him look at you from your peripheral vision. You turn to meet his gaze.

You finally say what’s been turning over in your head for the past few days.

“Are we done?” you say weakly.

Rafe mournfully breathes your name, sounding defeated when he says, “You tell me.”

Normally, and probably aggressively, you’d ask him why he’s being difficult. But after so much time reflecting, you know he’s not trying to be. He actually thinks it’s on you.

Every time he muttered that you wouldn’t find someone who cared like he does. Every time he hounded you after you told him to stop talking to you. Every time he insinuated that you’re either considering cheating or have already cheated. It was his own poisonous way of trying to keep you.

Because now, you can see just how painfully insecure Rafe is. And it’s not on you to fix that. But it explains a lot.

And now, when he tells you that you’re the one who decides the fate of your relationship, you get why. He’s always been the one clinging onto you, but refusing to be vulnerable about it.

You hope he can be vulnerable now. And you’re willing to go first.

“How come you blocked me?” you say softly.

“You tried to text me?” He straightens. He looks genuinely surprised that you reached out first.

You get why. You never reached out first before.

“Yeah,” you say. “I wanted to check up on you.”

“It’s stupid,” he begins. “I wanted to text you but you said we can’t talk, so I blocked you and sent texts that couldn’t actually get to you.“

Your lips quirk in a sad smile. You did the same thing in your own way, writing down everything you wished you could say to him in your journal.

It was an exercise you read about online; saying what you want to say to your ex without committing to them actually hearing it. You wonder if he read that article, too.

“It’s not stupid,” you say. “Can I see them?”

“Some of them are…” Rafe looks away. “I was really pissed off when I wrote some of them.”

“That’s okay,” you say. “Mine aren’t all nice, either.”

His forehead crinkles, clearly taken aback again by the fact that you wrote him messages, too.

“I wrote what I wanted to say to you in a notebook,” you explain. “You don’t have to show me if you don’t want to.”

“I can,” he offers. “Just don’t get mad at me.”

You can’t promise that, so you stay quiet when he pulls out his phone. He hands it to you and you tap in his passcode, still the same numbers, and open his texts.

You see a glimpse of a message from his friends’ group chat. Someone simply texted: sure. And even though it’s mundane, it’s still so weird not knowing about Rafe’s day and his life and his plans.

You open your conversation. There’s a string of undelivered texts. You scroll to the top and take a deep breath.

Friday, 5:46 pm

It sucks not talking to you.

Saturday, 3:01 am

You think youre so mmuch better than me and it oisses me the fuck k off

You can tell he was drunk writing that one.

Sunday, 12:11 pm

I would take back a lot of the shit I did if I could

“What would you take back?” you ask.

“I don’t know,” Rafe says tensely. “A lot.”

Despite everything, you watch him through disappointed eyes. He would do this all the time as your boyfriend, act like an emotional conversation was corny and embarrassing.

He notices how sad you look. So, he pushes through for you.

“Like… I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” he says.

“I yelled at you, too,” you say, offering him anything you can during this moment of vulnerability.

“I scared you sometimes.” His eyes flit away. “You tried to act like you weren’t fazed, but I know I scared you. I’m sorry.”

The apology almost throws you off.

“Yeah,” you say after a beat. There’s no point in being dishonest.

You continue reading.

Sunday, 9:20 pm

I always fought to make this work and you never did. I always fucking cared more

Monday, 4:44 pm

I think about you every second. I’m going crazy

Tuesday, 9:57 am

I miss your laugh

Tuesday, 3:01 pm

I wonder if you noticed

You meet his eyes, immediately seeing the pink tinge on his cheeks, even though the sky is dark orange now that the sun is now seconds away from setting. He’s embarrassed, likely from how raw and exposed he must feel.

“If I noticed what?” you ask.

“That I wasn’t at that party last weekend,” he admits. He knew you were there because he asked his friends.

“I noticed,” you say. “That’s when I texted you. Where were you?”

“Home,” he says curtly as he reaches for his phone.

“I’m not done,” you say, looking back down at the screen. His body tightens in minor irritation. This just feels like humiliation now, especially if you’re not planning to stay with him.

Tuesday, 11:30 pm

Obviously I love you and it’s so annoying every time you say I don’t say it enough

Your brows pinch in sadness. Now that so much time has passed, you feel bad for every time you guilt-tripped him about not saying it back.

Yesterday, 1:20 pm

To be honest I would choose being sick together over being healthy alone because at least I’d have you

The next message is the last one.

Today, 10:22 am

I just wish I was good enough

You realize your eyes have started to burn with tears. Rafe’s not simply insecure. Now, you’re almost sure he feels a sense of inferiority.

It tracks. He likes to pretend he thinks he’s better than everyone, bragging all the time. But the more you think about it, the more it seems forced in retrospect.

He acts like he’s above people because deep down, he feels like he’s below them.

“You’re more than good enough,” you tell him. You give him back his phone. “I promise.”

Rafe nods, looking away, clearly tense and awkward.

You spent your whole relationship fighting each other for the upper hand, but now you’re trying to figure out how to give it to him so he’s not embarrassed.

“The last thing I wrote down was that I hope we find our way back,” you confess.

Blue eyes land on yours. His expression has softened.

“What else?” His voice is rough, almost strained.

“You want to know everything?”

“Yeah.”

You look out at the view again, crickets chirping, thinking about all that you’ve wanted to tell him. The breeze is gentle and the remaining sliver of the sun nestles into the horizon.

“I used to feel good about myself around you, and then at some point, I just… I really didn’t like who I was, Rafe.”

It makes everything in him hurt. But then, you continue.

“I blamed you and I shouldn’t have,” you continue. “We both fought unfairly, but you didn’t bring anything out of me that wasn’t already there. I’m sorry that I made it your fault when I was mean.”

He blinks, nodding, staring at your profile as you continue to speak.

“I didn’t like how controlling and jealous you could get,” you admit. “You didn’t trust me and it hurt. I never actually did anything to make you question my loyalty, did I?”

Rafe chews on his lip. Tears prick at his eyes.

“No,” he says.

“And we had a bad habit of, like… of trying to prove each other’s feelings wrong,” you say. “But if we hurt each other, we need to just accept it instead of arguing about it, you know?”

“I know.”

“We did bring out the worst in each other,” you say. “And I hope we can bring out the best. Because we were best friends before, remember? And then we just started trying to hurt each other. And I don’t want that for us.”

You feel the shift in the air between you immediately.

You meet Rafe’s gaze again in the dark summer air. Even though every other time he said this, it took effort, this time, he has to try not to say it. But why would he not say it?

“I love you,” he says.

Your lips part as you take in a short inhale of disbelief. It kills him to see how shocked you look to hear it.

But some things can never change and that includes how he prefers to show his love. He was always more action-oriented. So, he moves closer and gently cradles your jaw, his thumb rubbing over your cheek.

“Please let me kiss you,” he mumbles.

You leaning forward is your invitation and when his lips press on yours, your body feels weightless. You can’t remember the last time you touched this tenderly.

It’s the polar opposite of when you had what you thought was break-up sex. Your contact isn’t rough and angry at all. It’s soft like it’s the first time.

Rafe pulls back, his forehead against yours when a tear finally drops off his chin.

“I love you, too,” you whisper. His features crease in relief. You can tell he wasn’t expecting you to say it back.

“And you don’t have to say it to me all the time,” you say. “You’ve proven it. You’ve really been trying to get better for me. I can tell.”

He kisses you again, more impatiently this time. He missed this, missed you so much that it’s like he was lost without any hope of getting back home but now, he can breathe. Really breathe.

When he feels your tongue against his, his entire body reacts, getting hot and tight and hungry. He can sense that you feel the same when a whimper escapes you.

Rafe shifts and plants his hot mouth on your neck, still embracing your cheek as you tilt your head to give him full access.

The air around you is cool and dark now and you wonder if he wants to go all the way like you do. You’d hear someone coming up the trail and would definitely see headlights, so you’re not afraid of being caught.

You’re not afraid of anything. Not when he holds you like this.

You run a hand over the back of his neck, gently scratching the way you know he likes. He can’t take it anymore.

Rafe guides you onto your back, hovering over you, blanketing you with his weight.

“Should I stop?” he asks, breaths shallow.

“Don’t,” you say. “Don’t stop.”

A rush rips through you when you feel his hard excitement against you.

He wants you completely bare, but he can’t risk being caught out here, so he shifts to take off only what he needs to.

When he sinks into you, you’re both breathless and kissing through his thrusts. You wrap your arms around his shoulders, tilting your hips so he can fill you completely, be inside you as deep as possible.

“I’ll do anything,” he whispers against your mouth. “Just don’t leave again. Please.”

“I won’t,” you promise. “You’re everything I want, okay? You were always everything I wanted.”

Hearing that repairs the remaining cracks in his heart. He kisses you hard and for the first time in his life, he cries from happiness.

It’s slow and loving and the most gentle you’ve ever been with each other. Afterwards, he helps you get dressed again, kissing your skin wherever he can.

With your hearts still racing, you sit facing the view, his body curved behind yours as you lean with your back against his chest.

His fingers run over yours, stroking and rubbing and pinching, kissing your cheek again and again out of pure adoration under the moonlight.

“We won’t be perfect,” you tell him. “We’ll mess up. But I want to make sure you know I won’t give up.”

“Neither will I, baby,” he says. “I never did.”

Even though his methods weren’t always the healthiest, it’s true. He’s what kept you together, time and time again, as if he knew deep down that you two could be good together if you just tried.

You’ve never felt so solid with him before. You bring the back of his hand up to your mouth, kissing him.

It’s such a soft, loving gesture that Rafe has to tell himself not to cry again. It wasn’t a heat of the moment thing; he meant it when he said he’d do anything for you.

You own him. Completely. And he’s lucky that you want him back.

“I feel so lucky to have you,” you say.

“I was just thinking that,” he says with a chuckle.

You laugh and kiss the back of his hand again.

And you spend the next couple of hours talking and joking together just like that night on the beach months ago, except this time, you’re better people determined to get even better.

(the end) (alternate sad ending)

if you want notifications on when i post my fics, follow @xorafe-library and turn on notifications 💘

[hyewka]

warnings. switch!beomgyu, idol!au, brief mention of choking

cant stop thinking about trainee!reader and idol!beomgyu, where gyu first introduces a fuck buddy relationship after sleeping with you one time, not aware that alone would be the sole reason his obsession and attachment manifests. just imagine dom gyu whos used to fucking with no strings attached due to the nature of his occupation and who thinks itll be the same with you until he feels bored enough to leave your messages on delivered. but idol!beomgyu who one day lets out his frustrations, too roughly and mean that when hes done and sees the hurt, the less than normal distance, gets some clarity to immediately melt into apologies, inspecting every inch of your body to be sure you’re okay.

beomgyu who for once, lets someone sleep in with him after sex all because of what he assumed was really bad guilty conscience. awkward as he attempts to scoot for some room, letting you cover your body under his blanket, just completely rigid as he stares at the ceiling with his hands to his sides like some soldier.

then…he does it again, he lets you sleep in, this time its because he’s tired and he can feel your exhaustion radiating off you. he’ll feel bad letting you walk all the way to your flat. but due to how frequent you get together, his arms feel more comfortable wrapping around your figure as you drift to sleep.

when he lets it happen the third time, it’s a problem.

you didn’t fuck, not even a quickie or a makeout session, just him, for whatever reason, asking you to cuddle. cuddle. “i’m stressed, with the comeback and all.” he mumbles lamely, biting down slightly on his lip, trying to convince himself as well.

“when you’re stressed… we fuck.” you say slowly, and skeptically.

just when hes about to backtrack and take it back you jump in his bed anyway, “whatever i’m not gonna refuse a good mattress.”

and then when you sleep with your face turned towards him, he feels like hes been sucked in, looking at every detail as if hes trying to have a picture in his head forever.

beomgyu who gets attached way too fast and way too quick that after the fourth time you‘ve fucked around and sees you flirting it up with soobin he absolutely loses it.

“i just got him a gift to congragulate him for landing the mc gig..why’re you acting like i murdered your entire bloodline?”

because thats what it feels like.

he inexplicably presses harder on your throat, shutting you up more by pressing his lips on yours, kissing and kissing till your lips were swollen, his brows furrowed deeply as you pathetically attempt to roll your hips into his. fucking you against the wall in a random artists’ green room, five minutes before a pre recording…hes fucking lost his mind.

god, he’s addicted.

imagine when your dynamic slowly flips, none of you are aware until you realize how often he follows you around like a puppy fan—you don’t think he was ever this clingy. beomgyu being the one who tries to meet up any chance available even paying you a visit secretly in the practice room at midnight, sneaking in snacks.

then its the sex— he’s more vocal, more sensitive when you touch him, moaning so loud you would have to clasp a hand over his mouth to muffle the sound. his eyes glaze over at times when you praise him and holy shit what the fuck was up with choi beomgyu.

the beomgyu you met that one day, fucked at a random hotel, and quite literally introduced hard kinks almost immedietely nows in front of you, crumbling down to his knees with his glossy eyes peering up at you like you were a god, begging you to use his face to get off. ruin his makeup. ruin him, please.

[brokenmenswhore]

Hii🤭 I saw you writing for the marauders and I was wondering if you could do like a lover version of the poly one you already posted, totally ok if you don’t. Thanks anyway 🤍

don’t touch | poly!marauders

pairings: poly!marauders x reader, remus lupin x reader

warnings: none, maybe just jealous remus?

a/n: wasn’t super sure what direction to take this but i hope this is ok! i’m so nervous that someone is gonna request something and end up hating what i write kfjkejejek

this is technically a reimagined drabble of this request!

────── ☾ ──────

Remus was never shy about showing his affection for you, especially in front of his friends. He was proud to be with you, and wanted to show off that he had you, but was still protective over your relationship.

He would often hold your hand or kiss you out of the blue when you were walking with Sirius and James, or sometimes he would hug you, lift you, and spin you around in the hug, almost knocking his friends over. It was clear that he was enamored with you, and with his friends always around, it was becoming harder for them not to feel the same way.

When it started, you told Remus to cool it down in front of your friends because you didn’t walk to make anyone uncomfortable. Remus said it didn’t matter and he didn’t care.

Sirius wanted the kind of love you and Remus shared, and he had a rather large crush on you as a result.

The four of you walked down the corridor, ready to leave classes behind for the day.

“Will you pleeeeeeease come to Hogsmeade with us?” Remus begged, throwing an arm around your shoulders and kissing your temple.

“You know I have to study,” you sighed, “otherwise I absolutely would.”

“Oh come on, all you ever do is study study study,” he continued, “don’t you wanna hang out with us?”

You giggled, “of course, but not more than I need to study. I’m going to fail charms if I don’t get my shit together.”

Remus groaned in defeat.

“Come on, give yourself a break,” Sirius started, “you’re too hard on yourself. One night won’t make or break a semester-long grade.” He smiled, tugging at the sleeve of your robes.

Remus noticed and glared at him, but Sirius had no intention of acknowledging him.

You sighed. Remus eventually gave up when you protested, but Sirius was stubborn. “Fine.”

Sirius nudged you, smiling and turning away from Remus as you blushed slightly. Remus pulled you in for a kiss, marking you as his.

The entire time in Hogsmeade, Remus didn’t let your hand go once. He would even keep your fingers intertwined when he used the hand clasped to yours.

“Rem, you’re being ridiculous,” you said, pulling him into an aisle away from Sirius and James.

“How so?” he replied.

“You’re acting like if you drop my hand it’ll fall off.”

“Am not,” Remus protested, “besides, what’s so wrong about wanting to hold your hand?”

“Nothing,’ you responded honestly, “but for someone who wants to make out on the couch sitting next to Sirius, you sure seem jealous that he nudged me.”

Remus sighed. “He knows he isn’t supposed to act all lovey-dovey with you. He only does it because he’s into you.”

“So? You’re not his dad, you can’t tell him what to do.”

“I don’t want him being all touchy with my girlfriend. That’s not weird.”

You let it go, knowing that Remus wouldn’t budge on his stance no matter what you said. At dinner, you sat between Sirius and Remus, James next to Remus and away from any tension.

“Oh, you’d love this,” Sirius said, pointing to the drink menu and showing you one of the options.

“Absolutely,” you said, “I’m getting that.”

Remus began to run a finger through your hair, brushing the strands out enough to make his actions obvious to Sirius. You didn’t draw any attention to it, and continued talking with everyone as normal.

Sirius could tell that Remus was intentionally working him up, and Sirius had trouble controlling his temper.

“You know, you really do have the prettiest hair,” Sirius said, curling a strand in his fingers.

“Oh, so we’re just gonna forget that you’re not allowed to do that?” Remus snapped. “Don’t touch” was Remus’ rule- he didn’t want either of them near you. You were his and his to kiss and hold and squeeze only.

“Isn’t it her choice what I do to her?”

His choice of words sent Remus spiraling. Sirius noticed, and scooted out of the booth as fast as he could. Remus was trapped in between you and James, so he just lept over the table.

“I’m gonna kill you!” Remus screamed, chasing Sirius out the door, leaving you alone with James.

“So,” you started. “maybe we should get going?”

[emmyrosee]

“Don’t look at me like that. Freak.”

Kiyoomi’s words have you snapping out of your daze of, indeed, staring at him, blinking lazily and smiling dopily at him. His fingers continue to thumb through his book, just as he has been for as long as you’ve been staring at him.

Usually, Kiyoomi won’t say anything in regards to your staring, normally opting to be quiet and merely continue with his day, but today, he knows something feels different.

You have to get closer to him.

Your perch on the couch has you strangely close enough, close enough you smell his curl cream and the natural scent his body has due to not applying cologne or lotion.

He smells so good. You have to get closer.

“Stop staring at me.”

“I can’t. It’s against the rules.”

“Well my rules are: I’m gonna beat you up if you don’t at least blink while you stare at me. Feel those damn eyes fixated on mine.”

You laugh but say nothing, merely scooting closer.

“I love you,” you purr, kissing his cheek. He hums contently before gently grabbing your chin to keep you close, and he turns his head away from his book to kiss you properly.

Even sitting, you’re weakened from the affection, elbow buckling under the weight of holding you up being tampered with by the affection.

You have. To. Get. Closer.

“Kiyoomi?”

“Yeah babe?”

“You know how sometimes I really like skin to skin?”

Kiyoomi flicks his eyes up at the sky, both in thought and in preparation for your question, “yes. Yes I do.”

“I love you,” you assure once more.

Before he can question, it’s too late. You’re getting closer.

“What’re you do- AYE! HEY! NO-“

It’s too late. With a smile, you force yourself under his shirt, his hands failing (and, to be honest, not trying very hard) to still you and get you back out of the shirt. He squirms slightly under the feeling of you jamming yourself under the fabric with him, trying to shove you out because yeah, he loves you, but what in the sam hell are you doing?

Threads in his shirt start popping, and he screams in agony once again, “I LIKE THIS SHIRT, NO!”

As if he’s truly trying to make you stop.

He could easily stop you, he’s done it before, he’s not fooling you any time soon.

“Just- hold on, let me-“ you show no signs of stopping your squirming.

“It ticKLES FUCK OFF!” He snarls, and he sends you a glare of rage once your head pops through the head hole with him.

Basically nose to nose with him, you smile and nudge him softly, “hi you.”

There’s a beat of silence. Then, he lets out a hot breath of fury through his nose.

“Listen,” he whispers yells, and you let out a string of giggles. “No, you listen to me-“

“Okay.”

“This has got to stop- between you stealing them and you destroying them, I’m running out of shirts!”

“So don’t wear any,” you offer, and his face drops in annoyance and a roll of his eyes, and you laugh harder despite being pinned against him.

“No,” he snarls again, voices still pitched in a whisper, “no, you can’t keep doing this, just bite me for fucks sake! There’s no need for this!”

“Okay,” You say, and before he can even take his words back, you sink your teeth against his nose, biting softly while still giggling at his expense. He blinks unamused at you, clearly still in the act that he’s mad at you. “Sounds like you really just want me to bite you, Kiyoomi. Should I accept the invite?”

“IF IT KEEPS YOU FROM GRABBING MY TEETH, SNIFFING UNDER MY ARMS, AND CRAWLING IN MY SHIRTS, YES!” He barks, and you wheeze before thunking your head against him.

“You and I both know that those are not going to stop,” you assure.

He sighs, “yeah, I heard it as soon as I said it.”

“Glad we’re on the same page,” you say, giving him a small kiss for compensation. Then, you look around, your neck starting to hurt from being crinkled, “so… how do we get out of this?”

“YOU PUT US IN THIS!”

“Yeah but I have to pee.” You smack on a pair of puppy eyes and he rolls his, “unless… you don’t mind-“

“I’d rather rip this shirt to shreds and have you piss on it, than carry you to the bathroom and pee attached to you. I don’t love you that much.”

Liar.

Regardless, he pulls against you to try and pop the threads, back arching to force you up. You giggle and whine as you plant your hands on his chest, trying to push against him. The shirt stretches quite a bit under your forces, and with another grunt of effort, Kiyoomi reaches around you to grip the collar in his massive hands, and with one final shred, the shirt comes apart; it frees you both from the prison of fabric, and you let out a breath at the feeling of being released.

Now that there’s shreds of shirt in his hands, mouth releasing pants of adrenaline out, you do feel a little bad for it; with a small frown, you lean back next to him as he gathers the small bits of fabric, and you him for his attention. He glared at you from under his lashes.

“Thank you for getting us out,” you plant a compensatory kiss on his lips, initially to be used as a peck, but your heart beats wildly as one hand come up to cradle your head and keep you there as a proper kiss.

“I’ll always get you out,” he says simply against your lips.

When he doesn’t let go of your head though, your heart beats a little bit faster.

“Kiyoomi?”

“What?” The intensity of his kisses grow. You start to giggle against his lips, your hands planting on his shoulders to try and force some distance. “Why’re you freaking out?”

“Let me go!” Your words are smushed against his lips. He chuckles and pushes you impossibly closer, the entirety of his weight flipping on you and keeping you pinned. You squeal and try to fight more, only resulting in his kisses being planted down your neck and chin, making you erupt into more laughter.

“Thought you wanted to be close to me.”

“Too close!” You titter.

You feel him smirk against your skin.

“No such thing.”

[battlekidx2]

“Do you like girls?”

“I don’t know.”

“Do you like boys?”

“I don’t know. I think I like TV shows.”

I remember when I was in middle school all the other girls were talking about the guys they liked and I said I didn’t like anyone. I just wanted to do my own thing.

I didn’t really get why I would want to date anyone. I understood friendship, companionship— having someone to share my interests and mutually info dump to sounded cool— but I struggled to understand the appeal of spending every day and every night with someone else. Of holding hands and going on dates. 

This led to a lot of homophobic bullying and a few of them would act disgusted that I might be into them. Constantly acting like I was looking at their boobs and sexualizing them (I never made eye contact with anyone and would frequently look at the wall or space out while looking in their general direction). Or make a big show of not being interested and many other things.

I didn’t get this either. I didn’t know why I would be interested in any of them. They treated me poorly and I thought attraction was something people made up and simply just claimed to feel towards other people.

Just like I never understood celebrity crushes. You don’t know the person so how could you possibly know you liked them? And I never understood how people “chose” who they dated. Did they just choose whoever they liked hanging out with the most?

But any time I voiced this it was always met with worse and worse reactions. It led to isolation among peers and my family. My parents made it pretty clear I wasn’t who they wanted me to be. That I wasn’t normal.

I soon learned to fake it. Pretend I understood it.

The idea of not being attracted to anyone seemed like a foreign idea to most people I met. Even when I branched out and moved away, I met a few people in the lgbt community who couldn’t grasp it either and reacted poorly and it made me feel stupid. Like maybe I wasn’t just screwed up to people who fit in the neat little box society wants you to fit in, but to everyone else as well.

Maybe I was wrong. If it’s an impossibility even in this community that champions diversity and acceptance then can that really be my reality?

I kept trying to force it. To date, but every time I did I always felt that same skin crawling discomfort and it always petered out. It didn’t matter who it was or what gender. It always felt wrong. It was suffocating.

I don’t think there’s a movie that better portrays that all consuming, suffocating stagnation of feeling so out of place– knowing you’re out of place compared to those around you– and in response forcing yourself to fit what other people expect of you than I Saw the TV Glow.

Whenever I think back to growing up or whenever I return home that same feeling this movie is centered around always drenches my experiences.

And even now it’s hard to put into words when I talk to other people what I’ve felt when it comes to this aspect of my life.

That comment from Owen about knowing there’s nothing there when talking about romance and attraction, but being too afraid to look and knowing that his parents know something is wrong with him hit harder than any other scene from a movie I’ve watched this year.

It’s that absence of something that is at the heart of asexuality that makes me always question what I choose to identify as when I have to explain it to someone. Because for the most part my explanation boils down to (in broad oversimplified terms): I’ve never felt attraction, I’m more interested in watching a Spider-Man movie than I’ve ever been into even just the idea of dating, every time I’ve attempted to date it’s been uncomfortable and I’ve actively dodged anything beyond friendship while in the “relationship”.

And when I try to voice that to another person it always feels like those experiences don’t hold water. That’s describing the absence of something. There’s no real proof of the identity.

With being bi or gay or lesbian there’s something you can I don’t know—point to?— that can help you know your identity.

And that’s the fact that you’ve experienced attraction towards one or more people of one or more genders.

It’s defined not by the lack of something but the presence of an experience.

And so every time I try and explain it I end up feeling stupid. Like I just haven’t tried hard enough to find someone compatible. That I need to get back into the proverbial saddle and try again. I always in some way feel ashamed and backtrack as a result.

This is in no way to say that it’s harder or easier to be one identity or the another. Everyone’s experiences are different and everyone experiences are valid. This is just a struggle I’ve found that’s unique to asexuality that many people I’ve talked to have also experienced.

I haven’t felt that part of my experience be seen in media until I saw this movie. Maybe I’m latching onto what I can get or maybe that was an intrinsic part of the movie. That’s not important. What’s important is that it’s something I felt seen in even if it was literally just one scene.

This is my really long winded and roundabout way of saying that I really think this movie is going to stick with me much longer than any other thing I’ve seen this year.

Things can be hard to put into words and as a result I tend to keep things inside. I’m fairly certain I’m ace but it might turn out I’m on a different romantic spectrum then I thought or I fall somewhere different than I thought on the ace spectrum. I don’t know what I’ll discover in the future.

I’m likely not going to express my label out loud to anyone but a select few. I still can’t express this particular label out loud to many people. My family is definitely never going to hear it. A friend or two might.

It’s something I struggle with on a regular basis. I’m fine with identifying with the label in my head—in a lot of ways it makes me feel comfortable and happy— but any time I try to voice it the words die in my throat and I can’t help but feel ashamed. It’s easier to just tell people I don’t want to date right now. That there are all these factors in the way (finances, time, jobs, etc) than it is to try and explain what I’ve just rambled about above.

I know many people have felt and understood that experience and I hope people know they’re valid. You can express your identity with your full chest, shout it from the rooftops and let people know, or you can keep it to yourself, identifying as your label solely in your head. Both experiences are valid. And if your label changes at some point in your life that doesn’t make what you chose to identify as at this point any less valid too. People are always learning and growing. You can gain a new understanding of yourself as time move forward.

Sorry for the way too long ramble. This movie made me feel things.