#but im resolved to keep on my schedule. im just going insane doing so

[eye-cri]

Rrraaaaahhhhh Zeus's birthday will be in exactly two months in a week and I'm already swirling with ideas.... I'll throw them out so yall can give me feedback, okay?

1. Collab on an art piece. I would say collab to each make individual pieces, but I doubt people that are currently here care that much for Zeus. So this seems more reasonable with this crowd.

Edit: well, actually. Let's have this act as a interest check for a birthday collab for Zeus. All you have to do is say you're down. I'll decide the nature of it based on the amount of people that show interest.

2. Make my own piece that includes characters (ocs included) that care for Zeus. I won't say the specifics!!

3. ........Adi- *explodes*

4. All 3?

[joontier]

mercedes midnight runs | drabble 

synopsis: ur thirsting over jk driving you around in a mercedes

pairings: jungkook x reader

rating: R

genre: smut, angst | warnings: pwp basically (the thirst is real and unquenchable) with lidol angst ; swearing ; degradation ; car sex (pls dont do this while driving fjlaksas)

word count: 2.1k

g/n: this is the first installment for my ‘between the lines’ collection! ackkk ive been wanting to do this for so long because ive always thirsted over the boys driving and imagining jk driving his mercedes around seoul is just,,,,, eye ---- btw, this is heavily unedited nhnghgnhgn i just had to share the thirst with yall real quick 

between the lines navi. |  navi. | m.list

You’ve already planned out a quiet night to yourself tonight to rest and get your mind off of things, but all of a sudden, just as you were about to settle in bed, Jungkook sends you a text, telling you to get ready in half an hour because he’s going to pick you up and take you out somewhere. 

It isn't new news anymore that he’s texting you at this hour because he’s only permitted to go out after his schedules, which usually also end late at night. Superstar problems, can’t relate. 

Well, that and because your relationship with him warrants these types of late night meet-ups. It’s that type of arrangement you’d never thought you’d agree to, but eventually, learned to cope with. Your phone pings - a new message.

[🕺] 12:45AM

im out front

When you exit your apartment, you see an unfamiliar silver car parked in front of the building, you back up the stairs, wary of who might be inside the mysterious vehicle. The window rolls down halfway, and you see Jungkook takes a peek through the small space. 

Going back down the steps, you quickly climb inside the vehicle. “New car?” 

“Yeah, you like it?” 

You hum in agreement, tracing a hand along the sleek design of the dashboard. “It’s very...you,” you remark, in awe at how this new Benz fits Jungkook so well. “C’mere,” Jungkook tugs at your elbow, closing the distance between the two of you. “Fuck, you don’t know how much I missed you.” He presses his lightly chapped lips against yours, nipping gently at your bottom lip. Abruptly, you pull away, worried. 

“Kook...what if someone sees?” 

“I got the windows tinted. I got this car for us.” His words resonate throughout the car, and you're afraid he might hear your heart thudding strongly in your chest. You choose to ignore the implications of his words, focusing on his presence and not your treacherous thoughts. 

You give him a chaste kiss on his cheek in reply, sending a smile in his direction. You hope he doesn't see your real emotions swimming in your eyes. “Where are we escaping off to tonight?”  Internally cringing at your careless choice of words, you take off your hoodie and place it at the backseat, along with your purse, all the while giving him a generous display of your cleavage as a distraction.

Jungkook’s tongue darts out to moisten his lips. “I’m having second thoughts now, if we should really leave or not,” he says, unabashedly staring at your chest, eyeing your nipples, pert against the fabric of your low-cut top. “No bra?” 

“You told me you’d be here in twenty minutes, so I had to hurry….” 

“Wearing a bra takes you twenty minutes now?” Jungkook snorts, shaking his head at your lame excuse. 

“Yup, especially when all I could think about is having you take them off. So be grateful, because I’m doing you a favor.” You give him a wink, giggling when he huffs and starts the car. You’ve outwitted him once more. Silently, deep within the recesses of your brain, you wish you had the same amount of control you had over your words with your heart, especially when you’re around Jungkook. 

Connecting your phone to the car’s music player via bluetooth, you scroll through your recents and pick on your favorite playlist when you’re with Jungkook. ‘Sexy Can I’ by Ray J and Yung Berg comes first on shuffle. 

“That sounds like a very promising playlist.” 

Your conversation slowly lulls into silence, the two of you seated there quietly as you feel the enhanced bass reverberate throughout the new car. Leaning against the headrest, you glimpse at the man beside you, studying his features. 

Sometimes you find it funny how never in a million years did you even dream of being this close to the Euphoria crooner. If it wasn’t for your cousin Eunkyung - an idol who debuted the same year as Jungkook did, who’s likewise a very good friend of the latter, then you don't think you would even come close to breathing the same air as the global sensation beside you. 

Judging by the movement of Jungkook’s lips, you reckon he’s been speaking to you for the last five minutes, but you definitely have not processed a single word from him, for all you care. You couldn't blame yourself though, and Jungkook is certainly the one who is to take responsibility for your momentary preoccupation.

“You okay babe?” 

“Mhmmhm” 

If you were going to be completely honest, you were far from okay. Besides the many thoughts swirling inside your head, your trusty menstrual cycle tracker app is telling you that you’re bound to welcome your monthly visitor in a week - which means you’re PMSing - which further means you’re only in one certain state of mind - you’re insatiably horny. 

Unfortunately for you, Jungkook is absolutely no help at all. Not when he constantly looks like sex personified - muscular thighs, veiny arms, the whole package. Plus, there’s something about Jungkook behind the wheel that’s ultimately driving you crazy. 

A major part of it is your hormones for sure, but then again, even your hormones are thirsting over Jungkook driving, veiny forearms on display as he grips the wheel, or the way he backs up with only one hand on the steering wheel, or the way he sometimes keep a hand on your thigh as he drives. The formula is clear: Jeon Jungkook will be the cause of your insanity.

Jungkook pulls up the sleeves of his Carhartt sweater, revealing his nearing full-sleeve-tattooed right arm. The sight instantly makes you water, or wetter. Whichever the case may be. 

You hadn’t seen him in a week, busy working on his mixtape, amongst other stuff. And you miss him terribly, sex with him included. As desperate and slutty that sounds, Jungkook is that type of person that leaves you wanting, yearning for more. 

“What’s going on then?” 

“If this is about Eunkyung…you know we already talked about that…”

“I don’t wanna talk about that, Jungkook.” 

“What’s wrong then?” 

You don’t answer, just silently watching the muscles on his forearm ripple as he pulls on the hand brake when you get to an intersection. You gulp, looking away as you push your thighs together, hoping that somehow the friction will help the desire pooling between your legs. The action doesn't go unnoticed by Jungkook, whose eyes instantly  darken, now all too aware of your state. 

“Tell me what’s wrong baby girl.” 

Your resolve nearly breaks at the pet name, looking out the window to avoid his gaze. The light turns green again, and as he continues to drive, he rests a hand on your exposed thigh, strategically placing it just in the middle, the action gentle, yet enough to add fuel to your frustration. 

His tattooed fingers gingerly trace patterns on your bare thigh. Fuck Jungkook and his thing for skirts. You weren't one to complain about his sexual fantasies though, not when wearing the skirts he buys for you gets you a good fucking afterwards. 

You stay quiet in your seat, not giving the satisfaction that Jungkook gets knowing that he’s getting you all riled up. Two can play at this game. 

Gingerly, you place a hand on top of his, gently guiding his hand north towards your core. The man driving beside you lets out a cough, sitting up straighter. Keeping his hand sliding up until he’s fully cupping your core, Jungkook chokes on thin air as he realizes you’re not wearing panties either. 

“Let me guess, wearing underwear is too mainstream?” 

Shrugging, you spread your legs wider, guiding his fingers to slide against your already glistening folds. A shot of electricity runs through your spine. “Fuck, baby girl, you’ll be the death of me,” Jungkook growls, taking a sharp intake of breath as he teases you, shallowly dipping a digit through your wet cunt. 

“You’re fucking soaked. You seem to enjoy the thought, princess. Christening my car seats like the slut that you are?” He drawls, this time fully pushing a finger in as you get to another stoplight. 

“Jungkook, don’t tease me like that baby.” Biting your lip to stop the moan that’s threatening to spill, your own hand reaches out to grab at Jungkook crotch. He hisses at the sensation. You smirk to yourself. Seems like you’re not the only one who’s greatly affected. 

Encouraged by Jungkook’s reaction, you slip a hand through the waistband of his sweats, taking hold of his already hard cock. “And you’re surprised I don’t wear underwear? Bit rich coming from you now isn’t it?” 

“Better watch your mouth and stop teasing me, baby girl. You might just get punished for that.” 

“And what if I want to get punished?”

Jungkook huffs, pulling out his finger as the light turns orange. He brings his slick-covered finger to your lips, “Suck,” he orders. You oblige, sucking on his slender digit and swirling a tongue around it. 

“You’re in for a fucking treat, naughty girl.” 

It’s green again. With a sigh, Jungkook gets back to driving, this time religiously looking for a discreet place to stop over so he can fuck you properly. He finally finds a filling station, now driving with newly found urgency. 

He parks in one secluded corner of the station, with just a singular parking space separating you from a parked truck, the driver snoring away happily. 

The tension is thick in the air, inevitably making you feel hot even with the air conditioning on full blast. With no words needed to get the message across, you both unbuckle your seatbelts hastily, finding each other in a heated kiss shortly after. 

Making another grab at Jungkook’s dick - outlining against the confines of his Puma sweats, you urge him to pull them down to his thighs so you can have a taste of your alleged ‘treat’. Likewise, he orders you to lift your skirt up, giving him easier access to have you writing on his fingers alone. 

Scooting closer, you bend over the center console, taking Jungkook’s length in your hands. You place a tentative kiss on the tip before diving in, taking his cock inside your mouth. Jungkook lets out a guttural groan at the sensation, taking your hair into his hands, forming a makeshift ponytail on your head. 

“You’re so fucking hot, you know that right?” His head throws back as you take him to the hilt, the tip hitting the back of your throat. At his compliment, you swallow and as you watch Jungkook visibly shudder, you give yourself a mental pat on the back. 

As you continue to bob up and down Jungkook’s length, your hand travels between your legs, fingers easily finding your nether bud. With Jungkook starting to buck his hips upwards, helping you with your task, you quicken the pace of the fingers toying with your clit. You’re so close, but you’re doubtful you’ll even get to orgasm, considering your perched precariously over the console - definitely an uncomfortable position for you to orgasm in. 

Jungkook senses your discomfort and tells you to sit down, and you’ll both do this together. As soon as you get seated, you scoot closer to the middle, when Jungkook’s hand extends to return its attention to your dripping cunt. You give Jungkook’s erection stands tall, likewise calling for attention. Heeding to its silent call, you wrap your fingers around his shaft, stroking his length languidly. 

For a full minute, you both stay like that, trying to get each other to orgasm. Jungkook’s breathing gets labored by the second - the tell-tale signs he’s getting close. As your hand momentarily leaves his dick to massage his balls, his phone blares, startling you both out of your wits. 

Letting out an annoyed huff, he grabs the phone and switches mute button down then thrusting the device somewhere on the dashboard. Pretending as if nothing happened, you continue your handjob until Jungkook can’t take it any longer, pulling you up from your seat and telling you to come and sit on his lap. 

As soon as Jungkook pushes his seat back, you crawl over to his side, unceremoniously sitting on his lap, gyrating your hips as you slide your wet folds against the muscular expanse  of his thigh. You’re almost there, Jungkook taking your breasts in his hands for more stimulation - that is until his phone vibrates loudly against the surface of the dashboard. 

“You should probably get that,” you pull away, retreating to your seat: cockblocked for the second time. You check the dashboard for his phone, and get a glimpse of the caller’s ID on his screen. Eunkyung. 

You place the device into Jungkook’s hands yourself. 

“It’s your girlfriend calling.”

© hhyungz 2020. All rights reserved.

[dontshouta]

elegant obscenities

summery: Your tattoo session which you’ve had scheduled for months has finally arrived and you finally get to meet the man everyone’s speaking so highly of. pairing: tattoo artist!bakugou katsuki x fem!reader word count: 3,799 note: modern au! also,, this is ns*fw so please�� if ur not into that... just look away alsoalso, my tattoo knowledge is very limited.. im goin based on what ive seen on t.v or what ive read.. soo sorry if anythings wrong lol i dont have the heart to do extensive research on it atm but i hope you enjoy nonetheless

To say you were excited was a massive understatement. You felt like your heart was gonna burst from how quickly it was beating, your stomach felt like the den of a thousand butterflies, and yet you couldn’t wipe the huge smile plastered on your face.  Today, you were going to see what all the fuss was about. Today, you were getting your first tattoo from the King of Tattoos himself-- Bakugou Katsuki. Just the mere thought of it shot a rush of adrenaline through your veins. You’ve heard so many reviews on this guy, you’ve seen his beautiful works on yelp, you’ve seen the clean and cut format of the parlor’s website- he was no joke. Though, his reputation seemed flawless, people did seem to not like his attitude. But of course, that would be ultimately overlooked, his work was just that good. 

As excited you were, you were equally nervous. You didn’t know if you could sit through an hour session of what could possibly be him yelling and screaming at the top of his lungs. Or at least, that’s what some people have claimed to have happened. You wanted to remain optimistic though, and decided not showing up would be a waste of everyone’s time.

So, with determination and excitement fueling your resolve, you entered the tattoo parlor. You were greeted by an eager redhead, who smiled when you told him of your appointment.

“Oh yeah! Well, Y/N, if you could read over these papers and sign ‘em, Bakugou’ll be ready for you when your done!”

You took the clipboard with a smile and sat down. For a moment, you just stared at the words, not really reading them and letting the paper blur. You only hesitated for a moment, before grabbing the pen and firmly filling out the forms. You couldn’t possibly back out now, you’ve waited months for this opportunity! Just because some reviews said he could be a scary guy, psh, from what you’ve seen from the redhead, he couldn’t possibly be that bad, right? Just as you signed your last signature, someone cursed at the end of the hall.

“Shitty-hair! Is that client here yet?! I’m not gonna fuckin’ wait all damn day!” 

You froze in your seat, your eyes watching the redhead as he rolled his eyes.

“She’s here, dude, chill.” 

You gulped, pen shaking in your hand as you stared at the papers again. Was this guy serious? He sounds like he could up and kill me with his tattoo gun! The redhead laughed, taking in your pale figure and offering a calming smile. You relaxed the slightest bit.

“Ah, don’t mind him. He’s all bark and no bite, you’ll be fine. It’s just a tattoo after all!” He laughed again, trying to get you to ease out of your frightened position. “Are you done filling those out? If you could hand me your I.D you’ll be all set!”

You nodded mutely, handing him your I.D and clipboard. His reassurances should’ve placated you but why were you so damn tense? Was the reality of getting a tattoo settling into your bones and immobilizing you? You let out a deep sigh, deciding it’s now or never, hostile artist or not, he still was the best of the best.

The redhead, Kirishima he said was his name, handed you back your I.D and beckoned you to follow him down the hall. The closer you got to the room, the quicker your heart beat. You were so nervous, so excited, you didn’t know what to do with the plethora of emotions surrounding you. With a deep breath, you entered the room behind Kirishima.

The room was covered in art and designs of the past on the walls, fat binders lining bookshelves and a desk spilling over with sketches and unfinished line work. You could tell just from the room alone the experience Bakugou’s had. The tattoo table sat in the corner, laughing at your hesitance,  which almost had you running for the hills at the mere sight of it. The air smelt sterile, and you took a deep breath again to try and calm your jolting nerves. Just as you did, the air caught in your throat when you finally laid eyes on your tattoo artist. His eyes were an angry red, brows set in a frown as he appraised your form. You were frozen at the door, not quite able to tear your eyes away. No one mentioned anything about how hot he was! Feeling very deceived by the reviews online, you shimmied yourself fully into the room, all the while staring at the famed Bakugou Katsuki.

“Took you long enough.” He grumbled with a click of his tongue, strong, impossibly tattooed arms crossed over a built torso. He wore a black tank top, not leaving much to the imagination and wore watching black jeans, which hung delectably low on his hips. Now you weren’t sure if you could sit in the same room as him for a completely different reason.

Kirishima rolled his eyes. “Dude, she’s early. Impatience is so not manly.” He huffed, walking out of the room, giving you a thumbs up and smile on the way out.

Now you were left alone. With an insanely attractive man whose hands and eyes were going to be all over you for the next hour. Your earlier hesitance in the matter all but withered away and was replaced with a newfound excitement. 

You waved awkwardly, smiling slightly. “Um, hi, I’m Y/N! I’ve heard so many great things about you!” You greeted, hoping you didn’t seem overly eager. Now with your resolve restored tenfold, you wanted to get off on the right foot. His temper still looming over your head dangerously.

He clicked his tongue again, eyes roaming over your figure. “You better have, I don’t run this fuckin’ business for nothin’.” He mumbled, motioning for you to sit at that tattoo table while he prepared.

You watched him eagerly, eyes following where he slapped on his latex gloves. You drank in the way his nimble fingers worked with his equipment, sending you head reeling from thoughts of what else they could do. Goodness, this is embarrassing. Get yourself together, Y/N! You can’t be getting yourself all hot and bothered, this is a professional environment! And with that, you averted your eyes and focused them on your twiddling thumbs. 

“So’re you gonna take your pants off or what?” He finally asked, eyes slanting in passive anger at you.

“Wh- huh?!” You exclaimed, almost falling off the table in pure shock. Take off my pants?? Has he noticed my staring? Wait- can he read my thoughts?!

“I can’t tattoo your thigh over you pants, you know. Idiot, you should’ve worn shorts or somethin’.” His voice was laced with superiority as he chastised you, making your thighs clench unconsciously. You were not going to survive this session.

With flaming cheeks, you stood from the table, hands poised over the button of your jeans.

“R-Right.. Well um, would.. Would you mind turning around or something?” You asked quietly, the blush on your cheeks traveling to the rest of your face as you stared into his red eyes. Which he rolled.

“I’m gonna see you half naked anyway,  just take your pants off so we can get this shit over with.” He commanded, a brow raised haughtily as he sat on the stool next to the table. 

Now, you really didn’t think this through. You’d hoped he’d find you half naked in different circumstances, but here you were, jeans pooling around your ankles in contempt while the flush seemed to travel throughout the rest of your body. How could you forget that you wanted this stupid tattoo on your thigh? At first, you didn’t think anything of it, believing you wouldn’t be attracted to your artist. Fate had other plans though, and made your artist the most attractive man you’ve ever laid eyes on. 

You stepped out of your jeans, mumbling begrudgingly as you scooped the mass of fabric from the ground. Once you straightened up, you made eye contact with Bakugou. For a split second, it looked like he was staring at you ass. If you were bolder you might’ve said something like “Like what you see?” but instead, you shook your head, finding the notion preposterous as you sat back onto the table with curses being muttered under your breath.

“It ain’t my fault you wanted the damn tattoo on your thigh, no need to get all bitchy with me.” That comment might’ve brought down his attractiveness to you by about one percent, so any response that you had died in your throat once he started cleaning the exposed area on your thigh. Your lips were zipped tight, trying your absolute best and then some to keep any peep from coming out of your mouth. 

The breath that had been stuck in your chest finally escaped from your body once Bakugou pulled away, reaching for the readied transfer paper. You eyes softened at the sight of the design of your tattoo, heart fluttering at the way Bakugou had rendered it.

“It looks beautiful.” You whispered, smile blossoming on your face as he applied the transfer to your thigh, momentarily forgetting your qualms about the damn artist’s proximity. 

He hummed in response, clearly denoting an I know in his wake as he removed the transfer paper. “Look in the mirror and tell me it looks good.” He commanded, his tone clearly indicating he already knows it looks good. Probably just wants me to stroke his ego some more.

You got up anyway, not wanting to disobey him, and checked out the art that was going to be permanently etched into you skin in an hour’s time. “It’s perfect.” You breathed, checking yourself out in the mirror with renewed excitement. When you turned back, Bakugou’s eyes flickered up from your thigh to your eyes. He cleared his throat, motioning you to sit back on the table with a flick of his wrist.

“Duh, I strive for nothin’ but perfection.” He said, gloved hands patting the table impatiently.

Was that… a blush on his cheeks? Your heart rate accelerated, smile growing as you skipped back onto the table. “I don’t doubt it, Bakugou! Alright, now tat me up!” You were giggling happily, legs spread onto the table before the young artist, which, unbeknownst to you, had his heart rate going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, yeah.” 

With that, he leaned into you inner thigh, one hand gripping onto the soft flesh while the other poised the tattoo gun over it. 

“Brace yourself, it ain’t the most comfortable feeling in the world.” He warned, barely giving you any time to actually do so before getting to work.

A gasp escaped from your lips once you felt the tattoo gun connect with your skin, not necessarily in pain but to your horror, in pleasure. You bit your lip, trying to seem nonchalant but in all reality, heat was rushing to your core and you started to feel your body temperature rise considerably. You couldn’t really blame yourself, an attractive man’s face was inches from your barely concealed vagina while he gripped your thigh. How could you not get turned on? What was really going through your head though, was how you were going to distract yourself. You couldn’t possibly think about him and only him this entire time, right? He’d probably catch on and kick you out or something. You wouldn’t be able to stand the embarrassment that would come with that. 

While you did try to keep your mind occupied, you couldn’t help but watch the artist at work. His tongue slightly poked out his lips every now and then. Sometimes he’d blow out a breath which would hit your thigh deliciously and send you head spinning. He’d squeeze your thigh and maneuver it this way and that to get a better angle. Every little thing had your heart racing, your thighs needing to clench, your core needing some damn friction. You were, to put it lightly, going fucking insane.

Bakugou suddenly pulled back, his face screwed up in an expression you couldn’t place. An agitated groan escaped his lips while he made aggressive eye contact with you.

“Wh- ar-are you done-?!” Your eyes flickered to the unfinished tattoo, your expression turning confused when you met his eyes again. “What-?”

He shoved himself onto you, pupils blown wide with arousal. “You know what you’re doin’, huh? Don’t play dumb with me you’ve been acting like this since you walked in here.. You know how hard it is to fucking concentrate when I can just smell how wet you are? Huh?” He all but growled, eyes glued to yours while his large hands gripped your waist possessively.

You took in a shaky breath, breaking eye contact to watch his body hover impossibly close to yours. A sweat had built around Bakugou’s temples, body slightly shaking with restraint as he gathered your next reaction.

“Fuck.. you can’t blame me, can you?!” You yelled, hands gripping onto his strong biceps. “You’re over here gripping on my thigh and breathing on my coochie, how the fuck am I supposed to react?”

Your response shocked him, but was enough to confirm any suspicions he had and he immediately clashed his lips with yours. You melted instantly, hands roaming up to grip at his sandy hair roughly. Teeth clashed, tongues melded and fought for dominance, breath coming in hot and heavy as your bodies melted into each other. Bakugou was already hard against your thigh, member pulsing through his jeans and prodding closer and closer to your dripping core. 

You moved to wrap your exposed legs around his waist but was shoved roughly back onto the table, Bakugou breaking the heated kiss and roaming down. His hands left a trail of fire on your exposed skin, causing small, broken mewls to slip to your lips while he pushed your top over your breasts, his eyes drinking in your heated form greedily.

“Fuck baby you look so good like this. I’ve barely even touched you and you already look fucked out, all for me huh?” He purred obscenities into your ear, a shiver wracking through your body at his words. His hands barely skimmed over your bra, your breath held in anticipation as he slowed his rough mannerisms to admire your breathless body. A low growl emitted from the back of his throat, his hands pushing your bra down to expose your chest, your nipples hardening immediately in the crisp air. Deft, tattooed fingers toyed with your breasts, red eyes burning into your own as he watched you writhe underneath him, your legs rubbing together incessantly to try and gauge at least the tiniest amount of friction you could get. 

You whined needily, fingers fisting into his hair as you tried to connect your barely concealed pelvis with his.

“Nuh, uh, baby girl I’m gonna need you to be patient, yeah? Can you be patient for me?” His tone was laced with such dominance you were rendered speechless, a nod of your head indicating you understood what he was implying.

“No, that ain’t gonna cut it sweetheart, use your fucking words or else I’m stoppin’ right here, when we’ve barely even gotten started.” His fingers gripped your chin, forcing your gaze onto his.

“Y-Yes, sir..?” You were hesitant with the addition of the title but a hum of approval resonated from the tattooed man that had you relaxing back into the table again. Your eyes watched his every move while he lowered himself closer to you, a feeling of desperation slowly gnawing at you. His hands roamed every inch of exposed skin, from the apples of your cheeks down to your pelvis, his fingers toying dangerously with the waistband of your delicate panties.

Just as you thought he was gonna grant you at least some relief, his fingers skimmed past the waistband completely, ignoring the removal of the tiny article of clothing and instead moving to push a tattooed finger against your core teasingly. A gasp escaped your lips, one of your hands gripping his bicep for dear life, the tiny amount of contact overwhelming you.

He chuckled dangerously, his face moving to hover over your clothed heat, his hot breath tickling your thighs.

“Oh, please, just fucking touch me, Bakugou.” You seethed, your patience growing incredibly thin. You wanted to reach for his wrist and just make him touch you yourself but you didn’t want to push your luck, having already yelled at the man already. 

He laughed at your command, his hands moving to grip your hips while his tongue poked out of his mouth to gently prod at your panties. An eloquent oh fuck rolled out of your mouth, his hands gripping harder as his tongue lightly grazed over your clothed cunt.

“Is this what you wanted, princess?” He murmured against your wet panties, his eyes lazily gazing up at you. The sight of his face buried in between your legs had you shaking, the hands in his hair impossibly tightening while you tugged him closer to you.

“Bakugou, please, please, please, eat me out I can’t take it anymore, I want you to fuck me so-!” You cut yourself off with a hearty moan, his fingers snatching your underwear to the side and delving his tongue into dripping core. One of his hands massaged your hip, while the other snaked to toy with your entrance. You were already gasping for breath, legs spasming against his head while he dug himself deeper into you. His tongue laved other your clit, alternating between drawing lazy circles and sucking it hard. The juxtaposition of movements drove you mad, your head falling back against the table with your back arching, you hips bucking into his mouth greedily. His finger finally pushed into you, the combination of his thrusting finger and suckling lips pushing you further and further towards the edge.

All too soon, the friction was gone just as you felt your climax rush over you, causing a shriek of disapproval to sound from you. Your head was up in a flash to shoot a look of desperation to the teasing man. His gaze shook you to your very core, almost undoing you just then, with eyes completely clouded over with unadulterated lust. He smirked, bringing his soiled fingers to his lips and sucking them clean. A whine emitted from your throat, the display downright lewd and having you begging for more.

“Baku-”

“Call me Katsuki, darling.”

“Katsuki, please.”

And with that statement, his tank top was off. His pretty fingers worked to smoothly take off his belt and pants, the mere sounds of the rustling clothes bringing more excitement in between your legs. You crawled toward him, moving to help but he quickly pinned you back down onto the table.

“Now, now, let’s not get too hasty. I plan on fuckin’ that pretty pussy of yours real good, yeah? Don’t you worry that pretty little fuckin’ head of yours.”

Bakugou picked you up with ease, flipping you around and bending you over so your ass was up in the air for him to lay a resounding smack onto it. He hummed while you whined desperately, his abusing hand rubbing the skin immediately to soothe the reddening cheek. You legs felt wobbly, barely able to keep yourself up for him. He was rubbed languid strokes against his angry cock, angling it towards your entrance and prodding at it coyly. He tapped the appendage against your folds, chuckling as your hips bucked up against him. A smirk played on his lips, his eyes dark and dangerous as he started to shift his hips forwards to meet yours. You watched the muscles in his beautifully inked stomach flex as he moved, the feeling of slowly being filled just too good.

Once he was fully inside you, you gasped hotly, trying to accustom yourself to the sensation of being so thoroughly stretched out. His eyes watched attentively, flickering from your stretched hole and to your face. He moved his hips back tortuously slow, setting a pace so agonizingly good that you could barely open you mouth without moaning desperately.

“Oh, f-fuck!” You half-sobbed, clinging to the table for dear life as he rocked into you. He moved to hide his face against the back of your neck, latching onto the juncture of her shoulder and throat in a way that made you sure he would leave a mark. The feeling was almost too much– the slow drag of his cock inside you, the ministrations of his lips, teeth and tongue on your shoulder, the quiet and low growls leaving his perfect lips– you were done for.

His large hands gripped your ass, alternating from hard gropes to rough slaps that resounded about the room and arousing you tenfold. Broken moans fled your lips, your fingernails scratching at the table hopelessly. His cock pulsed within you as he quickened his pace abruptly, his hand fisting into your hair and forcing your back to arch up into him. You cried out in pure glee, your breasts bouncing while he pounded mercilessly into you. 

His hands held your hips in a bruising grip, the pain mixing deliciously with the absolute pleasure that was Bakugou’s pace. His lips were muttering obscenities into your ear, alternating from suckling your earlobe in between his teeth and littering your neck with pretty purple bruises. You have ascended, your mind gone due to this tattoo artist’s godly dick. 

You were sputtering, moans never ceasing to escape from your lips as you tried your best to keep up with his pace, your body becoming hotter and hotter with every deep thrust. You felt your climax building, your walls clenching around his thick cock, causing him to curse into your ear.

His unoccupied hand snaking around your waist to rub quick circles into your clit, sending your body into overdrive and making you see stars.

“I’m go-gonna- oh my goodness- I’m gonna f-fucking come-!” Your body was on fire, your mind short-circuiting with the amount of pleasure wracking your body as you finally came. Your moans came louder with it, your body spasming against his still pistoning cock.

He came soon after, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he rode out his high within your overstimulated walls. Bakugou released your hair, your body falling limply onto the tattoo table. You were gasping for breath, his seed pooling out of your pussy and onto the table. His fingers circled your folds and gathered the come from it, holding them out in front of your lips.

“Now, be a good girl and swallow my cum, huh, princess?”

[jemej3m]

Bro. I love your writing. Will there pls be a part 3 for the radio show ficlet 🙈♥️

yes because im trash here it is

p.1 / p.2 / p.3

*

The first time Andrew stopped by Neil’s recording studio, FM-OX Studios, it was a brief moment of panic. He had a coffee in each hand, and buzzed his studio with his elbow. The door made a beeping noise and slid open for him, and he was confronted by the dark inners of a radio station. 

It occurred to him that despite his qualifications in media and communications, he’d never traversed into a real station. The reception desk was empty, the stairwell behind it scarcely lit. Andrew could still see the various photos, awards and promotional posters. It was odd connecting faces to voices: He hadn’t expected to recognise any of them, but one photo had him standing still. 

Kevin and a middle aged man with full sleeve tattoos were standing side-by-side at some sort of award ceremony. Kevin held an award. They shared the same tight-lipped smile and shadowed gaze, Kevin’s dark hair a youthful version of the man’s grey streaks. 

Andrew would ask Kevin about it, if he remotely cared about anything to do with Kevin’s strange realm of fame and glamour. The intrigue passed like a cold chill and Andrew kept moving up the stairs with no more than a disinterested huff.

He sidled past various closed offices and let himself into the main recording studio. 

It only occurred to him as he looked through the com-glass that he’d never realised how insane this was. Yes, Neil was a public figure, and if anything happened to Andrew, records of their calls would be on the working phones and presumably recorded in this public space. 

Still, Andrew had no idea what the man looked like. There was almost nothing on FM-OX’s online page on him, and there were certainly no photos of him. Andrew wasn’t going to know if he acted differently whilst on and off air. Andrew had almost no information on him, so what the fuck did he think he was doing, waltzing in like this? 

And then Andrew had looked through the glass. 

There he sat. Sitting under only the light of a lampshade, face illuminated by a programming screen as his hands moved across a soundboard. A phone sat to his left, and his hand tapped nervously by it, as if waiting for bad news. 

Movement through the glass had Neil looking to where Andrew was stood, frozen. A look of slight shock flit across the man’s face and he stood to let Andrew into the recording studio, taking the coffee from Andrew’s free hand. 

He was barely taller than Andrew was. 

“Hi,” He said, a little mesmerised that Andrew was actually there. 

Andrew only had to take one look at his decadent red curls, the dazzling blue eyes and distorted scars across his cheeks and hands before knowing he was absolutely fucked. 

Shit.

*

Neil cocked his head to the side as he considered Andrew, who dozed lightly in an armchair he’d dragged into the studio with his feet up on the recording desk. 

It wasn’t the first time Andrew had come in: He’d been here upwards of a dozen times by now. Neil was no less perplexed by the man, who spent most of his nights tending one of Columbia’s downtown bars. 

Neil had actually looked into the man’s qualifications. He’d come through at the top of his class and denied various offers for positions in news presenting and show hosting on various stations across the east coast, as far north and prestigious as New York. Andrew even turned down down a Los Angeles placement that would have put him on a path akin to Kevin Day’s. 

Neil was at a loss about the man. He never talked about presenting. He never considered a different life other than the one he’d garnered and bartered for. 

Really, Neil couldn’t quite pin down what they spent their time talking about. All Neil knew was that it was easy, just as entertaining as it had been over the phone. Andrew listened in on the phone calls with him and made rude remarks under his breath, of which Neil muted but wished he could keep on air. 

With November brought the holiday season, which always left Neil feeling a little hollow. Dan and Matt had invited him to spend Thanksgiving at theirs, but it felt like a little more than an intrusion: Neil still couldn’t see himself as their awkward, flighty coworker that they put up with because they didn’t have much of a choice. Radio didn’t stop for the holidays, but they’d insisted that he should put a pre-record on for the night and stay over. 

It lead him to some intriguing topics of conversation. Who was going to see their families for the holidays? Who’s family drama was the most insidious? What awful gifts have you received? What are you thankful for?

Neil talked about these on air, but the most coveted discussions were those with Andrew. Andrew, who looked at Neil from under his lashes as he let his fingers brush over the soundboard. Andrew, who texted Neil songs he’d found that fit the theme or style of Neil’s show. Andrew, who was both brutally honest and impossible to read. 

“What about you?” Neil asked one evening, letting his microphone go on mute as Billy Joel began playing. Andrew didn’t look at him or even acknowledge he’d spoken aside from the arch of a singular eyebrow. “What are your holiday plans?”

“My mother died when I was sixteen, I never knew my father, I havdn’t spoken to my brother since he moved to Chicago for med-school and my cousin lives away from his God-fearing parents in Germany with his husband.” Andrew said, spinning the Rubic’s cube in his hand. “Does that give you a clear enough answer?”

Neil hummed. “My father got locked up for life because of various reasons. My mother’s death was one of them. My only relations run gang operations between France and England. I think we’ve got the same sentiment there.”

Andrew finally stopped his fiddling and graced Neil with a heady gaze. “Let’s not talk about family.” 

“Let’s not.” Neil agreed. 

Andrew’s fingers reached out: They only just managed to brush gently across the scars on Neil’s cheek, the ones where his father and his assistant had cut bloody revenge onto his face for speaking out against him. 

Neil smiled hesitantly with the odd gentleness in Andrew’s touch. Censure passed between them, until Andrew jerked his hand away like Neil’s skin was scalding to the touch. 

The odd moment passed, being one of many. Eventually, he found that Andrew’s presence made his shifts pass quicker than normal: The toughest hours were the last, when exhaustion began to settle in. Andrew brought good coffee and quiet conversation, filling up the dark space that always swathed Neil whilst hosting. 

It’d been a long while since routine like this, involving and revolving around someone else, had felt comfortable, rather than paranoia inducing or guilt-inspiring. 

Neil put it down to the loneliness of the night shift, and assumed Andrew was there for the same reasons. 

*

“You should co-host with me one night.” Neil suggested, as they turned off the lights of the studio and checked the pre-recorded hour of music would carry over until Renee’s morning show. 

Andrew was particularly lethargic that night: He’d been growing more accustomed to the later schedules and was almost fully nocturnal at this point. But that night at Eden’s had been particularly gruelling, the slowness of the evening as people became more reluctant to go out due to the weather and the holidays. 

That was the only reason Andrew gave a half-hearted shrug, rather than a flat out no. It wasn’t that he’d already entertained the thought. It wasn’t that he’d watched the way Neil came alive when recommending music and talking to various callers, letting his sharp tongue kiss the cheek of death as he pointed out prejudices and subjective opinions. 

Neil’s hesitant smile was practically too good to deny. 

But being a co-host meant being administered into the payroll of Wymack’s various presenters. His studio wasn’t loosely run, but it wasn’t exactly a commandeered ship either: Andrew’s presence had been mostly unnoticed for about a month and a half. 

Six weeks, since Andrew had first walked in with coffee. Six weeks had been all it took for Neil to work up the nerve to ask him to present alongside him. Like presenting was a taboo between them, when they were together exclusively whilst Neil hosted his show. Andrew didn’t hate journalism and presenting. He couldn’t find enough interest in it to hate it. 

Andrew did hate Neil, though. He hated that he’d wormed his way past Andrew’s exterior and persisted, until Andrew’s resolve crumbled and Neil could see all of his ugly truths and scars. 

“I told Wymack I want to bring on an irregular co-host. That I’ve already found one.” Neil continued. 

“Didn’t think to ask me first?”

Neil raised his chin. “You can say no.” 

“Shut up.” Andrew muttered, angrier at himself than anyone else. If Kevin found out about this, Andrew was moving to New Zealand and studying fairy penguins for the rest of his life. “Fine.”

It’d only be temporary. Nothing more. 

“I thought that was my line.” Neil snarked, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied grin. He looked relaxed. Andrew really wanted to lean over and kiss him. 

Oh, he thought vaguely. It wasn’t a new desire, but it’d never been so definite. That’s new. 

“Fuck off, Josten.” 

Neil only snorted.

He looked back to the phone that sat on Neil’s desk, and wished he’d never fucking called in the first place. 

*

we will get there I PROMISE

[cs-discourse]

it is my dream to unlock all of the cs & discourse mods backstories. why is juice box filled with hatred? why does phe hint vaguely at a sad angst backstory? ( legit tho phe, you ok? ) why do rando anons dislike cinna for super petty reasons? why did I think phe and peach were the same mod? why does raey suck so much? actually, why do all the rp mods suck so much? these are some of the questions I hope will be answered by the unlocking of the mods backstories.

fjjvhdhhche honestly, if you really wanna know, sit tight for a second. Youve unlocked my sad anime backstory by asking 😔😔😔😜 But yeah tw for abuse and suicide ig.

So to keep this as short as I can, my mom yeeted basically as soon as I was born, my dad went off to war and when he came back he couldnt hold any jobs so me and him lived w my grandparents (who were taking care of me when he was gone too). My grandmother (bitchma from now on) hates him (and i hated him for a while, but now I see why she did and I love him) and kicked him out bc he had no job and major ptsd.

So I lived with gparents up until I was 18. In that time I was basically subjected to gaslighting, manipulation, all types of mental and physical abuse, mostly by bitchma. They believed in spanking (ofc. which is fucking horrble. do not spank your child) and I would legit have panic attacks??? anxiety attacks? (not sure which. i bever figured it out) where I couldnt breathe and I hyperventilated and sobbed and it was horrible, and bitchma would just tell me to “Stop that, you can breathe” while im sobbing and gasping for air. She’ll get mad at anything and everything, screamed constantly, blamed me for everything. Always said “Well (insert other child) didnt do this” or “I bet your friend (only friend i talked about) gets good grades”. Would scream at me about clothes I would wear, even if she backhandedly approved them earlier. Would hurt my feelings and when I would cry or feel the courage to tell her she hurt me she would just say “the world doesnt revolve around you”. Never apologized. Got mad at me for bad grades when I was in such a bad mind state because I had to live there with her. Said “I’ve never had a child that’s failed before, even your dad got good grades. But it seems like the only thing you can do.” That hurt me a lot. I remember it so clearly. I tried to kill myself that day, and other days, but by then I had friends I cared for. And I loved my friends as my family. If I did it, they would hurt and I never wanted to do that to them.

But coming back to my dad hate, she hates him because she couldn’t mold him into a perfect little child and was realizing she couldn’t mold me into a perfect child either. My dad and I have such similar personalities and likes it’s insane. Most likely because we were raised by the same tyrant with the same mindset of “I hate her”. He’s told me that even though he’s literally been deployed in war, some of the shit she’s done has given him more ptsd than it. I moved in with him when I turned 18. This is the happiest I’ve been in my entire life, escaping that hellhole. There’s so much more she’s done, but honestly I don’t have the willpower and don’t want to drone on, this is very long.

But yeah. She’s the only person that I’ve ever had no mercy for. When I heard she may have cancer, I was so fucking happy. But she didn’t, sadly. With the shit bitchma subjected me to, I honestly wish her the worst with her growing age. That’s how much fucking pain she’s caused me. Sorry to dump, but 1: you did ask and 2: it feels nice to vent

.phe

-

You probably thought we were both the same because I tend to keep to myself and both mod names start with P and I was signing as MP for a while when I started typoing Peach a lot and wanted to save myself the trouble.

Also, here’s my backstory LOL.. o<-<

I was born with a tumor disorder called infantile myofibromatosis and all that means is that I had self-resolving tumors all over my body at about age 3. As a result of the tumors going away, I spent a lot of years 8-12 in the hospital getting spinal transfusion work and checkups due to a destroyed vertebra, which would have resulted in paralysis from the waist down if untreated. I’ve got some pretty neat scars from all of this and I kinda want to get them turned into tattoos but I can’t because of MRIs scheduled for every 10 years.

Thankfully, the surgeries worked and I could resume “normal” activity approved by my surgeon at about 16. I have pictures of my before and after spinal x-rays if anyone wants to see. I think they’re kinda cool.

I tend to be a shut book about everything unless we’re friends and usually when I tell people everything they’re like D: I’m so sorry. So I just skip the guilt of sharing and don’t.

I’ve got a lot of nostalgic interests because I feel like I’m always trying to make up for lost time but I’m working on letting some things go.

My family tries to be supportive most of the time but my father is manipulative and tries to gaslight everyone. He kinda treats everyone in the house like we exist to serve him like a king and my brother’s frustrations often wind up being exploded all over my mother and I. It’s very a toxic household situation and I was happier before COVID when I could party and club and avoid my family with my college friends but I think that ship has sailed.

I’m currently in the process of trying to save money for future rent and new clothing, take my GRE again to raise my score above 160 and then fly the coop for good. It’ll probably take a year for all of this at least, if not longer. We’ll see. // Mod Peach

[piamii]

Taking a mental health day from work today but was really conflicted about how to word it.

Last year I took a few mental health days but there were 6 of us so maybe it was less conspicuous

It’s only me this year and I for some reason keep feeling this push pull with my supervisor to be close and honest with her

Last night I was feeling ok about work. But after once again not sleeping properly I feel like somethings up with me

I’m feeling all the ways I used to feel about my mental health

Being small is not okay, it’s not okay to let go, I’m responsible for all of my clients progress and safety

Which is true in a way but

I also have beeen thinking about the difference between me and my supervisor

She’s the only person I see on a regular basis. Like I see her 4 times a week

So I don’t know how to be myself, a postdoc

I keep comparing myself to her

I wondered to myself would anyone else take a mental health day in my position?

Who cares, others aren’t me

It’s like I forgot I’m extremely sensitive and have been sobbing every day and not sleeping well at all during the weekdays

My nutrition and hydration and shit has been ok, so I’m not getting sick which is the weird part

Im so incredibly emotionally constipated

There are so many incredibly destructive thoughts in my head right now that haven’t been addressed

Things have just gotten increasingly harder for a long time now and I can’t tell where adjustment starts and my dysfunctional mental state ends

Is it really ok for me to say work is too much?

Does it make me pathetic?

Didn’t I feel this way in all previous years too?

2nd year, it wasn’t like this but at least I was more honest with myself about how anxious and nervous I was about work. I definitely took it easy and complained more often. I slept poorly frequently on clinical days and would feel really angry about it. I don’t think I got sick more than once that year

3rd year i wasn’t sleeping quite as poorly but still had sleep problems, hated my commute. That was the year I kind of had to start blocking people out of my life, like not completely but was so down and exhausted that I couldn’t function socially outside of work and school. I didn’t get sick much tho. Definitely noticed SAD symptoms starting this year but to be honest felt somewhat depressed on and off through early winter until spring which is I guess the colder darker months in OR. I think I had some SI but it was towards the end of winter

4th year was when I had more somatic issues. My sleep was honestly not bad that year comparatively speaking but when m and I broke up during internship application season I had a bunch of health issues that resolved shortly after my interviews ended. Tbh internship interviews were a nice reprieve from the dark slump that probably would have hit me if I had just done school in the winter. I had my first sinus infection in spring and went to see Slushii anyways Hahahha.

Internship year... I had a sinus infection too and got a cold maybe 2 other times. Last year was the most I’ve ever gotten sick. I took a mental health day maybe like 3 times and actually used sick days too. I want to say this was the hardest year for me mental health wise until this year in terms of symptoms but the best in terms of self care. By like April/May I was feeling really good about life. Maybe it’s the weather here too idk

This year feels so much harder than the other years combined. I’ve used one sick day and two mental health days and I’m having a hard time understanding where I’m at mental health wise in conjunction with who I need to be to do well at work. It feels like I’m growing at an unmanageable pace. I’ve had the most frequent SI I’ve ever had in my life which is somewhat alarming to me. I’m safe don’t worry but I’m just saying the thoughts coming into my head. My sleep is getting reallynfucked up over these last 2 weeks. I sleep like a baby on the weekends which makes me feel like it’s stress related. On one hand I’m acclimating to this insane amount of stress and on the other hand it feels like every day I’m being stretched open and carved out.

I’m not even ruminating that much before bed anymore. Like I’m not actively distressed like I used to be when things hit me hard last year. I’m just constantly unhappy and anxious this year which I feel like is my lot in life right now. My self care has gotten much better last year and this year, but this year it’s been harder to find ways to relax. Things went downhill really fast, when the seasons finally changed here and I started seeing 4 of my clients in the field. I am most definitely consistently working over 40 hrs a week now. I tried really hard last year to work less whenever I could and honestly the agency was pretty good about giving us a reasonable workload. But now it feels like I’m meeting the real world, where work just comes at you and never says sorry. You had to do extra and stay longer this week? Sucks for you. You have to completely uproot your already untenable schedule because one of your clients has really a really complex risk presentation? Welp that’s the price of doing this work.

Like when I was told the weeks here typically don’t go past 40 hrs I feel like I was lied to. I feel alone and singled out bc I’m the only postdoc this year. I want to know how C felt 2 years ago. If there were 2 of us I feel like I’d be having an okay time. Can you fucking believe they had a hard time building to full caseload last year? It cannot be just me in this position. I want to give up every day.

I don’t feel protected I don’t feel like I can ever let my guard down. There is no one I talk to regularly that I can be honest with. I don’t have the energy to relay this information to the people I do talk to regularly which at this point is my supervisor and M. And like hell im going to tell my supervisor this stuff.

Is this the real world?

Something tells me it is, but I have to find a way through it somehow

I’m still debating about this one client. She’s on my mind a lot and I’m scared which is probably a parallel experience to what her family is experiencing.

The fuck you mean our ethical duty? What am I supposed to take away from that convo? I know I have my own voice and opinion but that made me feel really bad for not doing exactly as you said. I know I tend towards the anxious paranoid side of things but that really scared me because instilll can’t think straight about this client and I sure as hell cant go to you.

The relationship between e and I has changed too, I think she’s overwhelmed too

Something that keeps popping up over and over again is- how fucking awful it would be for a client to complete suicide

I know it happens and it’s time I face that this could happen

It’s a terrifying thought and I almost don’t want to tell anyone that I’m having it

It feels shameful and dangerous to think about, because if I can’t handle it who could?

Who can contain this for me and tell me it’s okay? I don’t want to fucking hear that I should do more

It’s a complex mess of emotions inside my head. I understand why I would need to do more in this situation but there’s no room for it. I want help in trying to balance but my schedule is already unbalanced and bringing me into a dark place emotionally.

What if because I took today off no one sees my hospital patients all week?

Friday is going to suck ass if that’s the case

I could ask my supervisor directly to see them

But I want to be small today

And that would take a lot from me

How does the psychology service work at the hospital during Xmas break?

Uhhhh....

Shit.

I’m scared for some stupid reason that someone will make me stay during break or I’ll have to work some crazy stupid long hours on Friday

I hate ongoing patients bc they still need to be seen but it’s kind of your choice whether or not to see them

It’s like adding an automatic to do to the list every time I’m there but the task takes 2 hrs at least

I’m always scared I have to stay late at the hospital, luckily the latest has been 6:30 but I’m terrified every time I go in that it’s going to be longer

This is new for me and it’s ok to get freaked out

To not have a clear idea how much I am going to work each day and each week really puts me off

I feel pathetic because aren’t there a lot of jobs that are unpredictable like that? Especially once you become salaried ?

My stomach is starting to hurt

It’s weird because I haven’t gotten any somatic symptoms this year but I’ve also been sobbing my eyes out every day so maybe that’s why my body is feeling okay. I haven’t really cried the last few days because I’m just very tired of crying at this point, so maybe that’s why my stomach has been hurting a bit more

Every time m says something nice to me, hell anytime anyone says something nice to me I start to cry and I’m just so fucking done with crying and feeling out of control just to have nothing change and things even get harder at work

Fuck!!!!!

I haven’t properly dealt with this terrified feeling

I have to tell myself this feeling is informative but separate from reality

I’m so fucking scared.

[queencryo]

Going back tk texas today. Me and silly have been crying for like the last hour and a half which is..... not common for me. Welcome. (She says she could tell i hadnt cried hard in a Long Time bc i was like. Gross-sobbing for the first ten-fifteen minutes. Rude. Dont read me like that)

Um. Goingg to the airport now. Tired. Thankfully no nosebleed.

We made lemon-lime cheesecake pie. Dont ask. Good. Tho

Also trying to make no-sugar strawberry ice cream. Its in her freezer right now, i hooope it ends up well... no ice cream maker so we had go just stir it every 30 minutes.

Um... her mom's really nice. Very nice house.

The art museum in her city is soooo nice. Oh my gosh. There was a jigsaw of a puzzle hanging on a nearby wall. We tried to do it upside down, but it was very hard trying to do a completely featureless puzzle. We got the outer edges but thats it. (Silly's plan was to transfer the pieces one by one so we didnt have to resolve the puzzle. I... disnt get the memo). A museum employee asked if we were insane.

Today we went thrifting. Silly says i look very nice in the top i got. I do not believe her. She likes stripes very much, she says i like blue and patterns. Shes wrong kn the blue, it is only a coincidence fhat this morning i picked out the ugliest and bluest combination of clothes i think i have ever seen. (Im pretty sure a woman looked at me and said "oh *mouth tightening*" when she realized i was trans. I cant be sure, but i believe this occurred.) Silly got a shirt that, intenti9nally or not from the maker's point of viee., has a shitton of trans pride flags on it.

The grocery store here is called meier's, but spelled wrong. It is otherwise indistinguishable from wal mart.

Silly also likes dominic fera, and it was very nice to remember that funny young man.

I greatly missed being so close to another person.

I hate the TSA.

This flying experience will be much less pleasant than wednesday's.

Silly says that i am very pretty and that i pass well. I do not believe her on the latter count (how could i ever?), but the former is nice to hear. <3

I got a nosebleed at an inopportune time.

We spent the first day watching movies and cuddling, sleeping too. Well. Movies and sleeping varied. Cuddling was kind of constant. We missed each other though this was the first meeting in person.

I dont remember the haiku i made last night/this morning/today (sleep schedules were... extremely weird. The fiest night we slepg and got up at 2 am, then watched movies until like 7 and got up at 2 pm by accident. Hard to line that up with "days")

Im at the airport now. Started cryibg again when i printed my boarding pass. Silly just got home. Now im crying again 4 that also. I guess my beaten-in repression of crying in public isnt as strong as she is.

We got wings from this place she likes called roosters. I dont know whether i like it better than the wings place from my old hometown, but they were extremely good.

I actually presented as female, like... the whole yime i was there. Normally i would have been too scared to do so, but i, like... silly made me feel safe. Which i... appreciate so much (related note: i just gave my wrong name at a starbucks and then started crying before i could finish my order. Not looking forward to going back to the old presentation)

I slept the whole way on both planes. It was kinda nicr, and broke me out of the crying cycle as well.

Fully aware im bringing up crying too much but like. I really havent cried that hard in the past. Idk. Good few years? So do not @ me.sorry.

Silly doesn't keep ranch in her fridge. She WILL be oppressed for this.

She likes cooking shows a lot. What a dork. Shes right about gordon ramsey being a very cool and nice young man

Came home. Did not expect the whole "empty bed" thing to ping me.

Im not sure i have anything else.

If its not clear, this is a big journal post so i have this all written down somewhere, written over the course of basically the whole day.

[qiiniru-blog]

Hurting.

It’s me; back at it again with the sad-violin inducing post.

I want to talk to you about something that happened to me yesterday morning. I need you to read it through, non-judgemental. And if you aren’t the empathetic or compassionate kind, you might as well ‘x’ out of here and not read this post at all. Because I don’t know how to respond to people who aren’t empathetic, and aren’t understanding. 

Now, I know every story has two sides. I also know our brain likes to confabulate events, and as humans, recalling an event isn’t without fault. That being said, after the event happened I wrote it down. Via text, on Microsoft Word also. I tried to detail it as best I could and as accurately as I could. I acknowledge that it isn’t even in chronological order. But I did my best, and I will again right now. 

I haven’t told you this but I have had trouble sleeping. Partly because I moved to a new state and it’s a whole new environment. Partly because my SO has a nocturnal schedule that used to keep me up because I wasn’t used to all the noise. I was being woken up early in the mornings too by my mother in law’s (MIL) dog. Nearly every day. Her barking would begin. And I would struggle to fall asleep after that. 

So yesterday morning, around 5:15am-5:30am, I was woken up by the sounds of rustling. My eyes were closed. I was trying to tell myself it’s a plastic bag dancing in the wind. But it got louder gradually and Java, our cat who has a bed by the window separating her from us with nothing but a mere curtain, began her scowling, hissing, she slaps the window out of anger. She does this regularly when she sees the dog. She hates the dog. And that’s when my eyes opened. That’s when I knew the dog was back out there. I texted MIL and wrote ‘If Maggie is outside, she’s making a lot of noise.’ I realised MIL may be in the toilet or something so I went to see for myself. Lo and behold, she was digging right outside our window making a hell of a lot of noise. MIL would have brought her in by now if she saw the text so I thought I’d go and ask her to myself. I leave my room, groggy. MIL is by the kitchen counter looking like she’s just woken up. And I say ‘Maggie is making a lot of noise, can you bring her in please?’ She did. I went back to my room to sleep not that I was able to. Usually if I can’t get to sleep or feel antsy, I like to shower and that’s what I decided to do. I grabbed my things and went to the bathroom and prepared myself for what was supposed to be a relaxing, long shower. 

I took off my clothes and wrapped myself in my towel and prepared my skin with my favourite cleanser by the brand Fresh. I put shampoo on my hair and started the water. I checked my phone. A text. From MIL. The text said something along the lines of ‘the dog didn’t bark. she was running around. what you apparently heard was dry leaves.’ I felt confused. I was confused because what did it matter? What did it matter if the dog barked or didn’t bark. She was DIGGING right under my window. MIL wasn’t even outside, how would she know if the dog was running or not? What did she mean by APPARENTLY heard? There was nothing APPARENTLY about it. I DID hear something. SO I RESPONDED. I had every right to. I explained in the text that a) the dog was digging and NOT running, b) that even though she didn’t bark, the noises she was making woke me up, c) I hardly slept. I didn’t expect what was about to happen next.

She replied furiously, all caps-locked. She encouraged me to keep bitching at her. I was bitching? She mentioned something about it being her day off where she gets to see her friend after so long and made it sound like I was ruining her day. And how I found it necessary for her to take care of her dog while she was struggling to breathe. OH AND GET THIS! She said she hadn’t had coffee yet (she always says we shouldn’t speak to her when she hasn’t had her coffee because she can be a total bitch). I have no idea how anything she wrote was relevant to what just happened. I have no idea why she went insane. But I responded. I firstly said ‘I don’t know what the big deal is.’ And then made it apparent that just because it was her day off, doesn’t mean I get to lose out on sleep. Also, lack of coffee doesn’t mean I need to lose sleep too. I was really confused at this point and wanted to clear the air and tell her ‘chill’, or rather ‘it’s really not a big deal.’ So my mistake but I decided to go out there, naked under my towel ‘n all. Just to clear the air before it progressed. 

MIL was coming out of the kitchen with the cat litter utensils. And all I said was ‘Hey MIL (used her name), I don’t see what the big deal is.’ That line triggered everything afterwards. She raised her hand at me and the yelling began. Extremely loud. Extremely cruel. ‘DON’T TALK TO ME. JUST GO AWAY RIGHT NOW.’ ‘STOP TRYING TO TALK TO ME, I CAN’T EVEN BREATHE RIGHT NOW. GO AWAY.’ It wasn’t her saying she couldn’t talk right now because she couldn’t breathe politely. It was her being extremely rude. Childish. I tried to speak in between to calm her down because she’d wake everyone. But I didn’t get a word in. I managed to put in a ‘Don’t yell at me please’ and that ended poorly. ‘WHY DON’T YOU JUST LEAVE ME ALONE?! I SAID DON’T TALK TO ME’ This is where she got louder and louder and started screaming. ‘IT’S MY DAY OFF AND I HAVEN’T HAD COFFEE YET AND IM SUPPOSED TO SPEND THE DAY WITH MY FUCKING BEST FRIEND SO JUST GO AWAY.’ 

My eyes were already welling up. She didn’t seem sorry. She shouted right outside of my SO’s uncle’s room. They were asleep. I walked away. First towards my bedroom. But then realised I’d be waking my SO up so back to the shower. I muttered ‘wow’ under my breath. ‘not dealing with this right now.’

I cried in the shower. I texted my SO and his sister immediately because I needed help. I needed someone. It wasn’t OK. What happened was not OK. I was not OK. I have had major anxiety issues for the last couple of months and it was at its peak. I was shaking, I couldn’t even bathe myself at first. I sat in the shower just crying. Wanting someone to help me. To guide me away from the bathroom so I didn’t have to see her again. 

When I was done with my shower, I overheard her talking to her dog. Repeatedly she kept saying ‘she’s a bitch, she’s a bitch.’ Over and over. Obviously about me. Who else? I left praying I wouldn’t bump into her. And I didn’t.

I haven’t seen her since. She hasn’t apologised. And I’m sitting here, hurt. I’m hurt because I didn’t deserve that and not much was done about it asides from my SO telling her that it’s not OK to shout at someone. I feel like fingers are being pointed at me like it’s my fault. He said I have a habit of pushing someone and it could have been to the point where they start shouting. But she was already shouting. She had already started shouting as soon as I said I didn’t see what the big deal was. 

Just because she hadn’t had her coffee, doesn’t mean it is OK for her to be cruel to me. That is not a fucking reason. It is not OK to call me a bitch outside the shower room KNOWING I can hear everything. It is not OK to make me feel like I can’t leave my room now. 

That’s how I feel. I feel my problem wasn’t resolved. I don’t feel like I’m making this bigger than it is. She was in the wrong and I am owed an apology. I won’t accept it. I won’t. I know that makes no sense but I need for her to feel bad because if she doesn’t, it means she thinks it’s OK to be like that with people.

I’ve gone my entire life shouting at my own mum. And her shouting back at me and it’s disgusting. It’s a filthy habit I got into and now I regret it with my every fibre and sincerely believe I am going to hell for it because my mum will never truly forgive me for my actions. I don’t think I deserve to be forgiven. So maybe this is karma. 

I wish more was done. I wish my sleep didn’t mean so little. I wish she didn’t act like she controls everything in the house. I wish I was respected more. I wish I wasn’t so scared. I wish I didn’t feel like I have to walk on egg shells. I wish something more. I wish I didn’t feel alone.  I don’t know if you’ve watched 13 reasons why or not but I feel like Heather. And my first reason why is MIL. 

It won’t come to the why, though. It won’t. I just know I’m not OK right now and I need to be OK but I don’t know how.