#but when i could actually use it for personal benefit and idk some emotional release its the fucking sahara desert

[widevibratobitch]

oh for fucks sakeeeeee

[invinciblerodent]

Y'know, puttering around with my recordings, I think I really am going to give Davrin's romance with Ver a pretty serious twisting around. Rewrite some things a bit, change things around, keep most of the "slow burn" of it intact- but also add in the "friends with benefits" elements that I feel match what he says in the check-in scene after the point of no return better.

I think I have a post from like, months before release, when all we knew about the character was "charming Warden (who may or may not have been the Storm Coast team's commander in '41)", about how I sort of expected his to be the romance that starts off more casual (with the expiration date all Wardens have, it's not surprising that someone who's been one for at least ten years would be hesitant to enter any genuine emotional entanglements, platonic or romantic), and then for him to find himself falling for Rook unexpectedly (and kind of against his will) anyway.

And from some of that late dialogue, I still think that that may have been the exact intention, initially, but maybe they didn't want to create too big a disparity between the different romance paths, or like they didn't want for it to come off like they weren't taking him as seriously as the rest, so the path sort of ended up getting a bit... I don't wanna say "subdued", but I can't think of a better word lol. Brought to match the pacing of the others and the overall story more, that's more like what I mean.

.... Anyway, I kinda think I wanna have them sleep together for the first time either after his personal quest (no more distractions, clearly established romantic interest in- and some commitment to one another, but with still an opportunity to angst about everything else) or preferably, that night after drinking with Lucanis.

I'm leaning towards the latter thought, specifically because it'd be clearly a very, very bad idea.

It'd be far too fast, far too early, I got that scene like right after the Cauldron, so deep in the thick of his personal quest- plus, the mutual interest was barely expressed like one day prior to it, and there was alcohol involved. Which all kind of makes it perfect, because it's an awful time to toss that complication in there.

But, it gives me an opportunity to have the both of them keep thinking that it being just a casual, physical thing is what the other wants (despite the "well, I could see us heading somewhere, someday" of it), and to have their feelings developing sort of in the background of it-- and then!!!!! that forest kiss can also take a role more like another complicating factor, with the "heart of a halla" line being a bit more ambiguous.

Like, casually kissing your booty call/situationship/FWB you've been secretly falling for, it's a bit more touchy-feely than the previously established [they were not established] guidelines [there are no guidelines] suggest is appropriate [none of this is appropriate], but it feels right, and that alone makes it feel weird and confusing, ykwim?

But, then the whole "Most of my life, I've gone it alone. With you... I never want to go back." thing makes more sense being where it is, after his personal quest, to me at least. Because that sounds like a confession, and with being free from worries and the griffons safe (with Eldrin, in that game), there's a great time to have a long-ish, actually serious conversation about what this is and where it's going.

.... That would also mean that some of the bed scene dialogue doesn't make as much sense ("Is this all just for show"? "Just like I imagined"? Girl you know exactly if it's for show and what his hands feel like, you've been getting dicked down semi-regularly for weeks), but I can work with some tweaks to that lol. The final parts of it, about planning the future and getting soppy still make perfect sense, it's just those lines in the leadup that need some minor tweaking.

Idk, I really liked the in-game experience I had, and I love me a good slow burn, but I can't deny that it's more my style when "slow burn" doesn't also mean ".... so sex is a thing that happens only at the very end, when all feelings are resolved". I like it adding more uncertainty and confusion into the mix, and giving a sort of "oh, this is different now" feel to that first time once the feelings are also resolved.

(The date though, I wanna keep where and how it is exactly, because he mentions he got the tip for the picnic from Evka and Antoine, and I find it really cute to imagine him just sort of looking at them after speaking with Valya like.... "... they probably have the right idea of it, don't they. While we're here, let... let me just go ask. How to, uh. Do this whole. Romance thing, I guess. Make it sound, idk, casual. And chill. We're... chill." Never mind that Evka and Antoine are literally one of the most romantic couples any of them know, but yknow, nbd.)

(And then it goes all the way sideways? Love it. Love the "hey so this tea I thought would be a fun, cute thing for us to try made her trip absolute balls for a while, so maybe this outing is not a great opportunity to like, talk. Seriously. About how I may or may not be falling a little bit in love with her. And by 'little bit', I mean 'up to the very tips of my ears'. Nbd, just gonna... postpone, spilling my guts out for her perusal, I guess." of it all. A+, no notes.)

[todourouki]

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i crash, u crash.

SUMMARY: Being with Dabi wasn’t easy and it probably never will be, but he just wants to make sure you’ll stick around. Or in which Dabi tries his best to show you he cares about you.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: based off i crash, u crash by lil peep! lol honestly idk about this one. but welcome back gift for me, from me, to you <3

PAIRING: Boyfriend!Dabi & Fem!Reader

WORD COUNT: 5,476

WARNINGS: Explicit Content, Dabi is toxic, Angst*, NSFW [18+] including spitting, slight daddy kink, squirting, slight overstimulation.

© todourouki

Sex with Dabi was always the same.

Routinely speaking, whenever he was back from a mission was the time you were expected to be on all fours waiting for his attention. It was always rough too, nothing short of angry and aggressive even if it was a form of “love-making.” He could call it what he wanted to though, he knew the universal term for his type of sex was simply fucking.

The positions and their timings were always on schedule. No more than 3 minutes in missionary— all the time in the world doing everything else. You never really got to touch him, and he’s never let you see his face when he came.

The relationship of hot and fiery sex mixed with an unrequited form of codependency grew to an actual romantic one somehow between the days and nights spent together, yet nothing of the dynamic ever changed. The only thing you could recall is that he groggily asked of you to “finally be his girlfriend since you already acted like it.”

Dabi was a complicated person. You never knew if he planned on waking up and deciding he wanted to be single, and honestly the day he decided to do such a thing wouldn’t be a surprise to you. He was an avid participator in the league of breaking hearts and even if you had more than enough knowledge on this, you allowed his sneaky smirk to seduce you into the sheets of his bed and hours of his days.

You eventually found yourself moving in, figuring out that he refused to sleep without the air conditioner on, never wore socks around the house, used way too much salt on his eggs, and never managed to close the curtains after he got out the shower. Above all that though, he never changed the way he fucked you.

Dabi loves you, of course you never had to question it or get reassurance. He showed you in minuscule ways such as stealing bringing you your favorite snacks after a long day without you, doing things such as buying double of what he gets from store runs because you’re in his mind all day, and telling you he’ll be safe for you once he walks out the door. He never says I love you, but he doesn’t need to.

It’s hard to get someone like him to change the way they are, so when you’re sitting on your shared bed flipping through a magazine and see a couples quiz linger across the page, you can’t help but try to feed yourself crumbs of his affection you know you’ll spend a lifetime searching for.

“How long did it take for you to realize you like me?” You broke the silence, squinting at the duo-skin toned man slouched across the wooden headboard.

You heard him chuckle, blinking longly at you with amusement glimmering within his cerulean irises. It wasn’t rare for Dabi to mock you for asking such a thing, but it was a rare moment for you to glare at him deadpanned and genuinely waiting for an answer. It fucking confused him.

“As long as it took you to make me cum the first time.”

You rolled your eyes, ignoring his comment enough to make him furrow his eyebrows. It wasn’t like you to not retaliate back, you were always quick to snap back at him. Hearing nothing but his own breathing as you skipped through pages made him furrow his eyebrows. He wanted to ask if you were okay— he really did, but then you’d think he cared.

And Dabi would be a terrible person if he let you know he cared.

The silence was nearly overbearing, nearly deafening in his ears as he tried his hardest to focus on anything but your serious expression haunting him in the back of his mind. Things like this rarely bothered him. It goes to say that Dabi was rarely ever bothered.

Sure, you never asked for much reassurance and never even did as much as ask if he meant it when he asked you out mid-nap, but he really did. Sure, you lived off the whim of thinking it was, but at least the raven haired man knew it was. Right?

The sound of the magazine slamming shut and getting thrown somewhere onto the bed broke Dabi of his thoughts. “I’m gonna’ pee.” You announced, mostly to no one in particular because your soft eyes refused to meet his own. Another rare occurrence.

You lied to Dabi for the first time in your life. Did you really have to pee? Of course not. Did you have to cry in the bathroom for a quick 2 seconds to release the pent up frustration of utter confusion? Of course you did. It was annoying— living with someone and only getting treated as if you were anything in the slightest to him when his dick was inside of you. He only ever fucks you rough and never lets you see his face, and he expects you to believe he wants to be with you?

After cleaning your solemn face from dry tears, your body grudgingly made its way out the bathroom and to the bed. Your presence within the studio was clear, panties strewn across the open drawers mixed with Dabi’s briefs, shoes tucked neatly compared to Dabi’s boots tossed lazily near the door, and perfume bottles layering up against the old brown dresser. You took a quick glance at a picture of you hanging on the wall, a familiar raven-headed man’s arms wrapped around your head as he towered over your frame with his head resting across your head.

It was never worth the confusion.

“Why were you crying?” His dark voice rang out, making you slightly flinch as you dented the soft mattress with your frame.

A quick shake of the head will do, you thought to yourself as you followed your own orders. You knew Dabi wouldn’t push to find out what was wrong, he never does. And he doesn’t, lips shut as he takes a drag from some cigarette he’s smoking and giving you a longing look of aggravation. It’s even less of a surprise for him to do such a thing.

“If you have something to tell me, then I suggest you do it.” If you hadn’t known Dabi for as long as you do, you’d probably assume he was being condescending and outright rude. Because you do know him though, you know that’s exactly how he’s trying to come off to you.

You dreaded it. The eventual confrontation that was inevitable from the moment you accepted to be his girlfriend— it all led to this moment in space and time. You felt exactly how you predicted you’d feel, sick and intimidated. Not necessarily by Dabi because you know he’d never hurt you, but intimidated by the fact that it’s as easy as 1-2-3 for him to up and leave depending on your answer.

“What are we, Dabi?” And there it goes, 1-2-3.

It was like hearing a pin drop. Nobody moved, nobody spoke, nobody did anything for the first three seconds following the ultimatum. He knew he had two options: answer genuinely and reveal information he’d die before releasing, or leave you high and dry yet again for his own benefit when it comes to the mere idea of using words he doesn’t use in bed.

Staring into your eyes never scared him, he cremating people for a living, but knowing that lying behind them were tears falling for your reflection rather than on his shoulder caused a pang to hit his chest. It was unfamiliar and unusual, but looking at your body begin to leave its space in the bed in frustration with his quietness made him snap. You were serious for the first time.

“I’m not going to repeat myself.” Your words were harsh, harsher than usual and you yourself couldn’t even tell where this newfound energy came from.

You were okay. You were okay with whatever this complicated situationship was, and you probably would have still been okay with it if you hadn’t gotten too deep in over your head and let his words get to you. Him saying he realized he liked you coincidentally while you fucked should be above you, yet here you are.

“Jesus doll, relax.” He taunted, hands reaching out to grab your arm in a fit of confusion and annoyance, “just come back to bed Y/N.”

You felt it - the minute he touched your arm and released the tiniest bit of heat coming off his palm - just how tense he was becoming. He knew once you put your mind to something, it was difficult to get you to move away from it. He knew that there was no escaping this conversation.

It was inevitable really, the fact that one day (which was, unfortunately for him, today) you would question the legitimacy of his emotions for you. You were carefree just like him, that’s why he fell for you. But you were also blunt. If you felt a way, you were going to say it and that’s that.

Easily, the scarred hand gripping onto your arm slid over to your clenched jaw. You didn’t mean to give him a hard time for not looking his way—with the way his fingers squeezed deep into your skin and tilted your head towards him, you knew you did. It almost repulsed you with how obedient your body was to his touch, glancing at him with no shame other than the dried tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m gonna tell you the one time and I’ll never repeat myself,” he threatened, voice treading amongst angry waters as his blue eyes bored into yours, “I’m serious.”

You stood your ground, eyes taking away from your scowling expression as they swirled in curiosity. It didn’t take much to make you lower your frame onto the edge of the bed, a sigh escaping your lips as you pulled the t-shirt past your exposed panties.

“I don’t say much when it comes to you, or even to when it’s about you—but you’re all I am.” Your eyebrows furrowed, clear confusion written in your face.

“What does tha—” “I’m talking.” Dabi’s aggravated expression never left, not even with the joint hoisted between his lips in nothing but frustration.

“I got nothing to give you, nothing but collected calls from jail and maybe some jewelry I stole cause I got bored. I don’t have any money, anything to my name, and nothing but a spot on the police and hero department’s most wanted list.” His words made you frown, the clear self-depreciation outweighing the cocky and arrogant attitude you once knew to belong to the man infront of you.

“I can’t look you in the eye, show you my face when you milk my cock clean— can’t do shit like that,” Dabi’s smirk was quick to appear, your eyes rolling as you met his serious gaze yet again, “probably won’t be able to take you out the country either unless we run far, far away from here.”

“But nothing I say or do will ever express the way I feel about you.” And now it’s Dabi’s turn for the 1-2-3 process, because that statement in itself made your brain stop working.

Your brain couldn’t comprehend the fact that Dabi’s free hand was circling your bare thigh, moving closer and closer to where he most felt at home. His words never faltered though, only slightly pausing to smoothly slip his hands onto the soaked folds of pink lace.

His words were thrown against empty ears. You couldn’t focus on the words flowing within the room due to the ever-growing heartbeat pulsing between your thighs. Dabi’s hand sank into your leg, heat splitting between your skin enough to hiss and throw your head back.

“From this perfect pussy,” he applied pressure to the space between your legs, the wet patch inducing a smile from his once blank expesssion. The sudden contact caused a gasp to slip from your panting lips. Almost instinctively, Dabi pressed his thumb against your tongue, “to this smart ass mouth, it’s all I need to wake up in the morning.”

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi's heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he's ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who's life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen burn bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

His motions stopped, yet hands showed no intention on moving from its current place. He was staring at you intensely - as intensely as he could - to assert his egotistical dominance but you knew the truth.

And as Dabi lowered your frame into the soft, plush white sheets, he realized he knew the truth as well. Your eyes were dazed, irises looking at all of him at the same time as your body swallowed in his touch and he knew. Dabi knows deep down no matter how much taller, bigger, or dominant he ever tried to be, he would worship the ground you walked on with the blink of an eye.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi's harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

Before you, Dabi was known to be something of a martyr. He fooled women, toying with their souls the same way he toyed with their bodies and cried trauma when they threatened to leave. He kept a string on every one he ever fucked, being cautious enough to keep them at the heel of his feet for a fun time when he felt he had enough of you.

Then, he got addicted. He drowned in your drive, finding for the first time in his life some sort of comfort. Your natural warmth, your smile, your understanding— you were someone Dabi would find himself laughing at for thinking they actually existed.

"You're gonna get tired of me one day," he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, "you're gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own."

He wanted to think he wouldn't care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn't do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he's ever known in his life for as long as he'd live.

With a soft whimper, your hands turned his head from his lowered expression over to your soft eyes. He hated how quick you got him to look at you, and he especially hated how quick you made his breath stop.

"Hey," you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

"You crash, I crash. Always."

Your words hit him, and boy did they hit Dabi hard. The time it took for the word always to softly slip off your tongue was just enough time for Dabi to realize the depth of your words.

They were the same ones that fell between your lips when he thought he was dying, when you thought you were dying, and now. Dabi was complex - that was evident - but he was also the simplest man you knew. All he ever really needed was some reassurance.

It was long before his fingers found their way into your scalp, slipping over the crevices of your neck and gripping onto the back of your head as if his life depended on it. All you could do was gasp.

"Can I touch you?" The words were like a record scratch, repeating through the scarred man's brain all too much to keep anyone sane.

He couldn't tell if it was the slur of your words, or if it was your soft hands running across his thick shoulders as the words whispered into his ears— whatever it was made him take up the obligation of doing anything and everything you said.

It wasn't soon before you found yourself slamming your lips against his, the sensation causing you both to moan. You couldn't tell the difference between his hands and yours, tangled limbs falling deep into the plush comforter covering your shared bed. His weight above you did nothing but encourage you to wrap your bare limbs against his now shirtless one on, hands running through the raven locks above your head.

The minute you felt the heated pads of his fingertips lower themselves down your abdomen, your head shook underneath his and caused him to part his lips from its home on yours.

"Hmph," you groaned, pouting as your hands traveled down to his jeans and began to fiddle with the zipper, "I want to feel you in me now."

Dabi was used to being in control. He was used to ordering your body around, telling you what to do and how to do it. In the bedroom, Dabi made the orders. So when he parted his lips from yours and stood over your body with his scarred hands shoving his pants down his thighs, you couldn't do anything less than moan. Knowing he was taking what you said into consideration brought chills to your skin.

"You sure you're ready for this, sweetheart?" He smirked, legs coming out of the restricting jeans he wore and leaving his tall and lean frame in nothing but gray briefs.

Dabi had a lot to brag about, in the most respectful way possible.

Your hands clawed at his waistband, giggling as you pulled his body all the way back to its original position of resting above you and let the underwear go with a loud smack. Being eye to eye with someone like Dabi was scary, no point in denying that. Her there was something about it that just drove the two of you insane— and he couldn't tell if I was anything short of love.

He silenced himself, attaching his lips to yours and preoccupying a hand into pulling his briefs down just enough. And by just enough, it meant just enough to brush your clothed clit as his painfully hard cock stretched up to his stomach. You couldn’t do anything but flinch, hands reaching out to grip his thick girth and slap it across your clothed pussy.

“Let me do it.” You smiled, eyes boring into Dabi’s own blue ones. Your free hand slipped your panties to the side, his mushroom tip dancing against the rim of your wet hole and causing the two of you to release a soft groan into one another’s face.

If there was one thing Dabi would never get tired of, it would be the feeling of your velvet walls sucking his dick closer into you. Nothing short of sensation hit him the minute your hands shoved the head in, and his almost fell inlove with the view of you watching his large length disappear into your own heaven.

It was hard for you to not cum from his entrance. Even as he bottomed out, your teeth sealing a scream from leaving your throat by pressing into his shoulder, did you realize just how big Dabi was. No matter how skinny, lean, and weightless he seemed, the girth and length on Dabi’s third leg when he was stuffing himself into you never failed to surprise you. Even through the self-inflicted pain of going into this without foreplay, you knew there was nothing that would ever fill you up as amazing as Dabi does.

“Fuuuck,” you dragged out into his earlobe, tongue licking a strip of his patched skin from your bite-mark to the lobe of his pierced ears, “you’re so big.”

He couldn’t help but whimper (another thing on Dabi’s list or shit he doesn’t do but now does because of you), the feeling of your tongue circling his ear as your pussy gripped onto his fleeting cock nearly felt like too much. It didn’t help that you were moaning and whispering in his ear with nothing but pure sex laced in your words.

“You know,” he breathed out, beginning to create a routine with his hips bottoming harshly into your cervix and slowly dragging out in a timely fashion, “this is the best pussy I’ve ever had.”

He thinks it’s a compliment, but really it stirs awake the competitive bone in your body. You ignore it though like you always do, choosing to appreciate the fact that he considers you the best at atleast something.

His hand gripped onto your neck, bringing neon stars and dots of blackness to conceal your view of cerulean eyes. Nothing but the lewd sounds of Dabi pushing his dick into your wet hole filled the room, sprinkles of your whimpers and his groans mixing amongst the darkness of the apartment.

Dabi was trouble. He never felt in control of his feelings, never knew what he would want in life, and never bothered to consider living for someone other than himself. It’s moments like these with you though, that makes him realize the God he wakes up thinking about rests between the gap in the middle of your heavenly thighs. He’d killed people before, but the power you held over him was enough to make him consider killing everyone on earth if you’d ask.

You felt him begin to grow impatient, hips pounding into your frame and causing your body to jolt up and down harshly. Words couldn’t describe how amazing Dabi felt inside of you right now. His tip crushed your cervix within every thrust, and it was Dabi’s fingers that lifted your gaping face from the trance of watching him fuck into you to his own face.

“I-I cant.” You began to slip out, tears growing against your eyes as Dabi’s hot fingers began to flick your swollen clit. You swear it’s only been like ten minutes, or maybe Dabi’s huge dick pushing against your cervix was beginning to fuck you stupid. “You’re gonna’ make me cum— make me cum too fast daddy.” You cried out, fingers dragging against the stapled back as you felt Dabi purposely drag one of the piercings located on his tip across your pulsating velvet walls. It was almost too good to be true, and you couldn’t help yourself from kicking his waist over you and forcing his body underneath you. He didn’t even have the courtesy to wipe the smirk off his sweating face.

“Get to work, doll.”

You knew why he spoke to you with such condensation. You also knew exactly why his hands pressed into your ass cheeks as you found your home on top of his bare lap. His scarred torso leaned against the black bed frame, and you decided right then and there that Dabi deserved to get his brains fucked out. So you did exactly what he told you to do— you got to work.

You were wet enough to take him some more, knees straining as you finally pushed his length deep into your stomach. The silent scream that left your lips didn’t go unnoticed though, your fingers that now gripped his cheeks pressing between his lips to keep his teasing menstruations to himself. Dabi’s eyes couldn’t come off your body, and honestly he wished they never had to.

Keeping a grip on your stomach and your ass cheek, an enflamed slap brought a powerful burn across your ass cheek and caused you to jolt against his penis.

“Jesus Dabi, a-are you trying to kill me?” You weakly pleaded, and it didn’t take long for your fucked our expression to start slurring your words.

The sound of you dropping your frame onto his body filled the room, your hips rolling against your clothed clit and bringing sensation you weren’t sure if you could handle. You were trying to focus, but the feeling of Dabi heating a hand up across your ass and slowly beginning to meet your thrusts caused your brain to jumble into a mess of nothing but him.

“Fuck, baby you look so good when you start to get stupid.” He smirked, lips running against the cleavage of your bouncing breasts and lazily sucking on the moving nipple in front of him.

You wanted to fight back, and you wanted to defend yourself against him thinking you we’re starting to get stupid. You really wanted to— the only issue being that you couldn’t. You couldn’t the minute Dabi found a way to meet your thrusts and roughly tilt your neck back up towards the ceiling.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Was all you could cry out as you began to grow impatient in your lower abdomen. It just felt too good. And as if to add injury to insult, your walls began to clamp up from the feeling you knew was coming soon. Dabi paid the price.

You’d never seen his eyes get this wide, eyebrows furrowed as his mouth gaped open in shock. His eyes found its way down, the sight of your pussy gripping and swallowing his dick back in and out being something he wishes he could see all day and that’s when Dabi realizes that he is inlove with everything about you.

“It’s like your perfect pussy was made for me, baby.” He whimpered out, smirking between hooded eyes as he struggled to regain some of his consciousness. You were way too good at bouncing on his dick, and he couldn’t help but begin to meet your thrusts with more precision as he felt himself near orgasm.

“A-all for you! Always all- always all for you daddy!” You cried out, voice struggling to come out as you threw your hands against Dabi’s chest and began to bounce as if your life depends on it.

You hate doing all the work, honestly you really do dislike it. But this has been the longest Dabi has allowed you to ride him and the feeling of you literally milking his cock at your own disposal was an offer too good to ruin.

“I know it’s all for me, princess.” He whimpered out, a hand gripping the back of your neck and pulling it low enough to slam your chapped lips against his own. “Wanna know something, baby?”

The words vibrating against your own moans got lost in the sound, your headboard forcibly slamming against the wall only louder as every other thrust from you gradually grew rougher with your urge to cum. Your brain couldn’t do anything less than feverishly nod, hands slipping back onto your body and allowing Dabi to drill into you from underneath. Gasps slipped out of your parted lips with a hand gripping his black hair and the other begging to rub your own clit.

“You crash, I crash forever, right baby?” He moaned out, the words entering your ears and making you cry out with tears finally spilling down your eyes from nothing but intense pleasure.

“Fuck yes daddy, forever!” You cried out, body beginning to hunch over as you felt the pressure in your stomach compared to the way Dabi slammed into you become too much.

“Good, doll,” he moaned, pushing you so far into him, the heartbeat in your pussy was sure to be vibrating onto the veins of his dick, “so do me a favor.”

Everything happened much too fast, your dizzy state only increasing as Dabi grabbed your body harshly and tossed you back underneath him. There you were again, tossed carelessly under him with your legs trembling and pussy stuffed with all of Dabi in his glory. His lips found our ear again, licking your lobe and sucking on it right after.

“Cream all over my cock so I can stuff you up with my kids, deal?” He smirked into you, jolting into you as soon as the last word resonated on all ears.

Soon enough, he found it in himself to thrust into you like never before. You could barely breath, gasping for air as you felt your vagina began to vibrate due to stage of pleasure you were in. And just like that, your body began to run from the overstimulation of Dabi’s hot finger rubbing roughly against your clit as he drills your frame into the crevices of your mattress.

“Da-daddy I’m gonna’....” The words just couldn’t come out— he was begging to fuck you dumb.

You couldn’t feel nothing but Dabi’s dick pound into you, and if this was all you felt before you fell into a sex-coma than fuck it. It will forever and always be worth it.

It was like you were starting to see white. The feeling of one of his hands now roughly gripping your drooling expression closer to his face made you scream in pleasure, Dabi’s smirk leaving only to release a trail of saliva from his throat into the back of yours. You swallowed it with no hesitation, some of the residue slipping through your lips in a mix with your own spit as you began to drool at the feeling of his tip hitting that one spot over and over again.

And that’s when you felt it. You felt the build up, the pressure of holding back becoming too much as you belted into a mess of tears and tried to push his body off your own.

“No baby,” he roughly said, milking his cock into you even harder and rubbing pressured circles into your clit until a strong snapped within you and you saw nothing but white.

You weren’t sure if it was a sub-space you had entered, or some fucked up version of heaven people who just for their brains fucked out go, but either option felt like fair-game the minute your pussy began to squirt a mess of cum and other liquids from the space Dabi still found himself intruding. If anything boosted his confidence, it was this right here.

“Fuck yes baby, squirt for daddy,” he smirked, rubbing you harder and harder as your felt your body stiffen at the overstimulation, “fuck, you’re so hot.”

As soon as you, Dabi found himself cumming harder than he ever had, lips only being able to cry out a mantra of your name. He knew sex with you was amazing— but this was a new high he doesn’t think he’d ever went to let go of. He didn’t even have the energy to lift himself out of you, small drips of cum able to slip out of your swollen pussy making you flinch in both overstimulation and pain. The cockwarming brought chills to your arm, body sprawled underneath Dabi’s panting frame in nothing but a fucked our expression.

You felt him lift his head up, eyes glancing over your puffy closed ones and being able to do nothing more than steal a kiss from your tongue-licked lips. He knows the difference between “fucked-out” you and “genuinely-knocked-out” you, and you knew he knew the difference too. But he acted as if he didn’t.

And before Dabi could pass out on top of your sweaty and sticky frame, words he mumbled into your shoulder nearly burned into your skin. At least, just enough to make your pussy and lips twitch in nothing but contentness.

I crash, you crash. Forever and always.

Sex with Dabi was always the same— sure. It was rough, messy, and painfully over-stimulating, but it was Dabi, and it was more than enough for you.

Your mind was now blank. All you could think about was the feelings of Dabi’s heated fingertips dancing against the confining cotton of your panties. He always had the ability of doing this to you— dumbifying you with nothing but the pads of his fingertips and making you beg for his tongue.

Watching you pant under him nearly made the expressionless man shudder in pleasure. Dabi wasnt a liar, anything and everything he’s ever said being some mangled up verbal example of his brain. He was far from the type to express his feelings, show anything other than smugness and oversuimulation, and dedicate his entire life to another person.

He was far from the type, yet managed to become a perfect example of a significant other who’s life slowly but surely becomes solely to live for another person. The other person in this situation, was you.

You felt him begin to leave swollen bubbles on the outer layer of your skin, legs shaking in a way that brought the two of you out of your racing minds.

His motions stopped, yet hands showed no intention on moving from its current place. He was staring at you intensely - as intensely as he could - to assert his egotistical dominance but you knew the truth.

And as Dabi lowered your frame into the soft, plush white sheets, he realized he knew the truth as well. Your eyes were dazed, irises looking at all of him at the same time as your body swallowed in his touch and he knew. Dabi knows deep down no matter how much taller, bigger, or dominant he ever tried to be, he would worship the ground you walked on with the blink of an eye.

Your hands found his cold cheeks, tongue still stuck to your bottom lip with Dabi’s harsh finger circling the pink muscle. Not a word was said, or per say, not a single word needed to be said. The energy surrounding the one-roomed apartment was enough for the two of them.

Before you, Dabi was known to be something of a martyr. He fooled women, toying with their souls the same way he toyed with their bodies and cried trauma when they threatened to leave. He kept a string on every one he ever fucked, being cautious enough to keep them at the heel of his feet for a fun time when he felt he had enough of you.

Then, he got addicted. He drowned in your drive, finding for the first time in his life some sort of comfort. Your natural warmth, your smile, your understanding— you were someone Dabi would find himself laughing at for thinking they actually existed.

“You’re gonna get tired of me one day,” he bitterly smiled, eyeing you deep into your skull with nothing but sadness laced in an angry distraction, “you’re gonna find some hero and leave me here all on my own.”

He wanted to think he wouldn’t care. If the time where you decided to go back to the better things in life, leave a lowlife villain who wants to destruct the government, and live a rich healthy lifestyle, he knew you didn’t do anything less but deserve it. You were too good for him, better than anyone he’s ever known in his life for as long as he’d live.

With a soft whimper, your hands turned his head from his lowered expression over to your soft eyes. He hated how quick you got him to look at you, and he especially hated how quick you made his breath stop.

“Hey,” you whispered, soft smile still glowing even though you realized he had intentionally lowered his voice as well as his lips from your sight. The vulnerable expression the raven-haired man was trying his hardest to not get you to see brought a rough pang to your chest.

“You crash, I crash. Always.”

[emmyhem]

always (l.r.h)

a/n: hi everyone! this is a lil angsty piece i wanted to get up. i just want to say again how sorry i am for not getting anything up for the past two weeks, i’ve just been overwhelmed with some stuff for my classes, but i am starting to get back in the swing of things now. also, this is unedited as i was rushing to get it up in time. i do plan on posting something else tomorrow night and hopefully i’ll be posting pretty consistently from now on. also this does end kind of abruptly but i wanted to leave it like that because i’m a sucker for angst, with that being said i would be happy to write a part two if that’s something you’d be interested in. anyway, feedback and comments are appreciated as always and i hope you’re all having an amazing day/night. enjoy! - emmy <33

pairing: luke hemmings x fem!reader 

summary: luke recounts his mistake and hopes he can patch things up with his always. 

warnings:  very brief mention of sex, cursing, mentions of alcohol, luke’s being an asshole, mention of pinching (idk), slight insecurity from the reader, lots of angst :( 

word count: 2.6k

Luke had always hated the quiet. That’s when his thoughts were the loudest. That must be why he had never really liked being alone with himself. 

Tonight in particular, his thoughts were practically screaming, one word over and over again. 

“Y/n”

For the past two years that name had acted as his most favorite word, one that he would utter whenever he had gotten the chance. Whether it be to brag about your recent accomplishments to his friends, to catch your attention from another room, or falling from his lips with a sigh of pleasure as he reached completion with you laying breathlessly beneath him. 

Now the word seemed torturous, the last time he uttered it replaying on a relentless loop in his head. 

It was your 2nd anniversary. Dinner had been laid out on the table for an hour. Two glasses of wine sat untouched in front of a vase of roses you had picked out at the florist earlier that morning, and there was no sign of Luke. 

You were wracking through your brain as you watched a petal fall from a rose and land lightly in one of the glasses. 

Had you gotten the time wrong? 

But you were sure that the two of you had agreed on 8:00 for dinner, that way you had time to get everything ready after getting home from work, and Luke wouldn’t have to rush to leave the studio. 

Yet somehow you found yourself staring at the now cold dinner at 9:30, with absolutely no word from Luke. You wanted to call, if for no other reason than to check he was still alive and breathing, but your nerves stopped you from doing that, not wanting to take on the role of the overbearing girlfriend. 

Your stomach growled hungrily over the light music that was playing through the house speakers. So, begrudgingly you took a bite of the pasta on your plate before downing your entire glass of wine. 

Luke arrived home about 2 hours later, a bouquet of your favorite flowers in hand. He caught sight of the table, with one setting completely untouched as he hung up his coat, causing guilt to pang in his chest. 

“Baby,” he called out, carrying himself to your shared bedroom.

When no response came his heart rate sped up in fear that you had left. 

“Y/n” he called, louder this time with a sense of urgency clear in his voice.  

That’s when he spotted a person sized lump underneath the duvet. Releasing a sigh of relief he moved towards you, peeling the blankets off and leaving a soft kiss on your shoulder. 

This caused you to stir a bit, eyes fluttering open to meet him. 

“Hi, my love.” he cooed. 

A frown was prominent on your face, and a crease separated your eyebrows as they furrowed angrily. 

“I’m sorry I’m late. We got a bit carried away in the studio, but in good news the album is coming along great. M’so excited for you to hear it” 

You had always tried to be understanding of Luke’s job for many reasons. One being that you both reaped the benefit of his success, you wanted for essentially nothing, had a nice house, the opportunity to travel, and Luke often spoiled you with gifts even if you asked him not to. Another being how happy it made your boyfriend. Music truly was his passion, and he was so talented that you wouldn’t want for him to ever put his work on the back burner for you. 

With that being said, you made a point to take time off to spend time with him whenever you were able to. You had even changed jobs because your last one hadn’t allowed you to go on tour with him, which he had been adamant about, insisting, “There’s no way I can be away from you for that long.” 

And you were happy to do all of those things, because you were in love, and  you felt incredibly lucky to even be a part of his world. But you did start to question things as your relationship went on. It felt like Luke didn’t even consider your job. He only saw it as something that took you away from him. 

You had worked hard to get where you were in the occupational field. Without your job all you would have to do is sit around and wait for Luke to be ready for you, and you just couldn’t live like that. 

Luke turned on the lamp on your nightstand as you slowly sat up in bed. 

“2 weeks Luke, we’ve had these plans for two weeks.” 

“I know baby I tried, but you know how it is when inspiration strikes.” he dismissed while sitting the flowers on the ground. 

“No, I don’t. Do you not think that I have things I could be doing for work? Cause I do, and I choose this over all of that.” you huffed in frustration. 

Luke took a deep breath while subtly rolling his eyes. 

“Y/n, I’m sorry for missing dinner, but you don’t understand the pressure I’m under, from the fans, the label, management, and the band.” 

“I know that you work hard and I know how important this is to you, and I’m so proud of you, but I’m proud of us too and I would’ve liked to have a night for just us.” you tried to explain. “Not to mention the fact that I’m under pressure in my job too and I always find time for you, no matter what.” 

“Yea, you have pressure from a job that you don’t need.” his voice rising in anger with each word as he paced around the room. 

“How many times do I have to tell you Luke? It’s my job, it’s a part of my life and I don’t plan on giving it up anytime soon.” you shouted. 

“Great.” he replied sarcastically. “Then you should understand that I won’t give up my job anytime soon.” 

“I’m not asking you to, I’m just asking for a bit of consideration, and just a sliver of your time.” 

“I’m working to make us more money.” he stated.

“Luke, we don’t need any more money. You should be working because you enjoy it and because it’s your passion.”

He let out a condescending laugh before turning to look in your eyes. 

“Yea, well you don’t seem to mind all the money when you're sitting at home in the house that I bought, and leeching off of my bank account on the daily. D’ya think you could afford all the shit you have just based on your salary?” he spat crudely. 

You physically leaned back as if the words had just actually been thrown at you. They must’ve, because the pain they caused felt far too real to just be emotional. You opened your mouth to fight back, to scream, to do something but the lump in your throat prevented anything to come out other than a sad, and pathetic squeak. 

Was that what he thought about you? 

This had caught you completely off guard. Sure, you were expecting an argument, you’d even say you were expecting a big one, but you would’ve never guessed he would throw this in your face. 

You felt betrayed. It had always made you insecure that you were making such little money compared to your boyfriend. 

Some days after receiving your paycheck you would go out and spend it all on Luke, solely because you wanted to know that you could contribute too. You would do that whenever you got the chance, to reassure that your work was important, and valid. And mainly to show Luke that you appreciated all he did for you. 

He would always reply, “You don’t have to do this, love. I like spoiling my girl.” 

Yeah right. 

“I wasn’t, I m-mean I don’t try to lee-,” you paused, the word feeling too gross to repeat back. 

“Well, you do whether you're trying or not so the least you can do is give me a break occasionally.” he spoke casually, while changing into sweats as if he wasn’t ripping you apart with every word. 

You kept a blank stare at the bedroom door, your eyes already stinging with unshed tears. You wished you could be angrier but his words left you questioning and feeling guilty. 

As hard as you’d tried to provide for yourself and make your own way you couldn’t help but wonder if you had subconsciously started leaning on him, more than you had ever wanted. 

Luke continued getting ready for bed, not taking a second look at you since hitting you with his harsh words. 

“I-I’m sorry.” you croaked. 

“It’s fine, Y/n I just wish you could’ve been slightly more understanding.” he continued, still not facing you. 

“I think that maybe, I mean, um I gotta go.” you were speaking through tears, as you abruptly stood from the bed and hurried to leave the room. 

This caught Luke’s attention causing him to spin in your direction at lightning speed, finally taking in your emotional state.

“Going? Going where? I-what are you talking about?” 

You didn’t reply, grabbing your keys, bag, and shoes as you continued to speed to the front door. 

“Y/n!” he continued, following closely behind you. 

You paused at the front door and turned to meet his eyes. His stressed appearance subsided as you allowed him the opportunity to talk. 

“You’re upset.” he concluded, reaching a hand out to hold your cheek.

You leaned away from his touch and shook your head lightly, “M’not.” 

His features softened and he took another step closer to you, “You are. I’m sorry, I was harsh.” 

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” 

“Didn’t know?” 

“I don’t want t-to leech” you stuttered out. 

This rendered Luke speechless, realizing how cruel his words had been. You had taken this as an opportunity to exit the house, quickly running to your car. Luke made it to the driveway just in time to see you drive away. 

“Fuck” he snapped, jogging back towards the house to get his phone and call you in hopes of convincing you to come back. 

After calling you at least 20 times with no response he conceded and decided he should try and get some sleep, that way he was rested enough to get you to forgive him in the morning. 

His body fell naturally to his side of the bed, but his eyes lingered on where you typically laid. 

Rolling onto his back, eyes finding the ceiling he muttered to himself, “I’m an idiot.” 

Eventually he was tiring out, the bedroom ceiling growing extremely boring after staring for so long. He turned on his side to hug your pillow to his chest. As his hand slid under the pillow it came into contact with an envelope that had been hidden underneath. 

He sat up and flicked on a lamp to read the front, “To my Lu” 

He could tell that you had taken your time penciling on your words, each letter was flawless and written delicately. Before ripping it open he hesitated, questioning whether or not he even deserved to see what was inside after the way he spoke to you. The selfish part of his brain won for the second time that night. 

The first thing he saw after opening was two airline tickets situated just in front of a folded piece of notebook paper. 

He held his breath as he brought them into the light, two roundtrip business tickets to Sydney. 

He rushed to read the note you had left with them, unfolding it quickly. 

“Lu, 

Happy two years, my love. I can’t believe I’ve been lucky enough to call you mine for this long. Not a day goes by where I’m not in complete and utter awe of you and everything you do for me. I know how hard you work and how much you miss home and your family while you continue to grow in your music, and in yourself everyday. I know these aren’t the best tickets you’ve ever had by any means or the most extravagant vacation you’ve taken, but I wanted to show you how much I love you and how much I know you deserve, and need a break. We have 2 weeks, we leave tomorrow. I’ve worked it all out with the guys and your label. I know this is just a small way to repay you for the way you’ve taken care of me and the way you’ve loved me so selflessly for so long but I hope it shows you just a sliver of how much I love you. 

Yours always, 

               Y/n” 

He traced the letters of your name repeatedly as he blinked back a few stinging tears, before falling asleep, the note clutched tightly to his chest. 

That was a week, and about 100 missed calls ago.

About two days after you left, your friend had called to let him know that you were safe and staying with her for the time being. It had slightly lessened his worry, but the guilt he felt grew exponentially each day he had no reason to say your name.

He had claimed your side of the bed as his own in hopes that it would bring you closer to him. When he had finally dragged himself out of bed to shower he used your body wash and as embarrassing as it sounds nearly cried when the room was flooded with the familiar rose scented steam. And tonight while scouring through the liquor cabinet and feeling completely sorry for himself he had come across a bottle of tequila that you had purchased on your most recent vacation. 

Luke had put a serious dent in it by the time he was done scrolling through all of his pictures of you, and his finger began to itch with the need to call you. 

Through blurry and clouded eyes he located your contact, a breath hitching in his throat when he clicked the call button. 

With each unanswered ring he pinched his wrist, willing himself to wake up and discover this was all just some horrible nightmare, that he would just roll over and see you curled up next to him, warm, and sweet, and perfect. So fucking perfect. 

“You’ve reached y/n. Sorry I can’t get to the phone, leave a message and I’ll get back to you. Thanks” 

But it’s not his nightmare that got him here, it’s his mistake. 

“Y/n,” he croaked, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he hasn’t used it much in the past couple of days. 

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I miss you and I’m sorry. I-” his heart was pounding and his intoxication numbed him from the feeling of  the hot tears that streamed down his face as he continued. “M’selfish baby. I’m so selfish and I was talking out of my ass that night, of course you’re not leeching. That’s fucking ridiculous, you couldn’t be, I give you nothing compared to what you give me. I just don’t know how to admit I’m wrong and the money is bullshit, it doesn’t matter, we could both live without it.”  his chest felt tight as he took a large gulp of air. “I-I can’t live without you, really I don’t think I can. I need you and I love you. I love you so much. Just please come home to me, please baby. I need you with me, and I want to fucking give you the world and I know you don’t need me to give it to you. I want to. I just-I want to give you everything, anything. You can have it all. It’s yours. I’m yours, alwa-”  his pleads were cut off by the dial tone. 

“Always.” he repeated, staring at the black screen. 

pt. 2

[carpisuns]

New anon, but I saw the last one and I have some thoughts. Specifically, I have been obsessing over ml for the last month or so, and I’ve only seen three episodes, and they were the three released before crocoduel. And you know what? I wasn’t that into it, it wasn’t bad it just wasn’t half as engaging as fanon and fanworks have been for me.

I’ve also done this with the Magicians, Supernatural, and a couple others. I think the reason that this works, for some people, is because it is a more familiar and in many ways, easier way to discover and become attached to new material and new characters. Fan writers and artists are coming from a place of love for their source material (no matter what issues they may have with it) and that bleeds out into their work. Time is spent developing the characters and their feelings, their relationships, in ways that canon so often can’t or isn’t allowed to, and reading that, it’s very easy to fall in love with new characters very quickly. There’s also common AUs and dynamics that make it much easier to start something new.

And also: comfort characters. So many fans find common ground with characters and further project onto them, particularly in fanfic. And because of that it’s often easier to identify with a fan’s interpretation of a character than it is to identify with the canon’s, since you have these more deeply explored feelings and relationships based on a combination of canon and the personal experiences of the fan writer. Also, with these kinds of fics it’s extremely emotionally affirming since for someone who doesn’t have much of any connection with the source material, it feels like the original, even if you’re reading a large body of work by a lot of different people. And I’m so used to fanfic as a substitute for the emotional work and character development that shows/movies/books don’t have room for or aren’t willing to get into, that approaching a fandom as it’s own original piece of media in a way, feels very comforting.

That’s my perspective on it anyways, and why I do this. I do think it is a good thing to engage with the canon to an extent, even if it’s just watching a few clips (how I found ml) but I also don’t think you need any real connection or knowledge of it to be deeply invested in the fandom. Sorry, this got very long.

you know, i totally get being on, like, the fringe of fandoms and interacting with fanon to an extent without a proper investment in canon (I have a couple fandoms like that), but i honestly just can't imagine becoming super invested in a fandom when I am not invested in the source material...maybe that's just a difference between you and me, idk.

but also, i gotta admit that i'm struggling a bit to understand the reason. you yourself pointed out that fan work is enjoyable because the creator's love for canon bleeds into it. and isn't that the reason that you would want to give canon a real chance? obviously there is fan content made out of spite lol (and sadly a fair amount in this fandom), but to me most fan content is like a love letter to canon. like, "i adore this thing so much that it inspired me to create and share with other people who adore it." and what better recommendation is there than that?? i would think people would wanna familiarize themselves with canon in order to better enjoy fanon(?)

i completely understand your point about fan content delving further into characterization and relationships where canon hasn't/can't, and that is such a big appeal of fanfic/fanart. but i don't feel like that's a reason to not engage with canon? on the contrary, i feel like you are missing something important in your understanding and appreciation of that wonderful exploration if you haven't experienced firsthand the foundation that canon set. and maybe that missing thing is just your personal interpretation of a character/dynamic.

for example, i could say, "adrien agreste is this, this, and this and he would do this but not this." and of course i will think im right because my characterization is always perfect 😌sakjdfaldjks but someone else might have a slightly different interpretation, and someone else will have another interpretation, and when you mush all those individual takes on a character together, you will get a good sense of who they are, but you still don't have the Original™️ to draw your own interpretation from. idk, to me it sounds like basing your opinion of chocolate ice cream on what other people are saying about it without ever trying it yourself? ajsldakljf maybe that's an oversimplification but i do think that without experiencing it for yourself, your understanding will always be kind of incomplete.

idk, i big agree with everything you said about why fan content is special, but everything that is a point in fanon's favor is not a knock on canon. to me fan content feels pretty inseparable from canon, so it just doesn't compute to me to take canon out of the equation? then we would have nothing.

i feel like it's almost kinda trendy nowadays to be like, "oh this show actually sucks lmao but the fanon and AUs are good." like it's shameful to actually...enjoy source material? 😭 i mean i completely understand that miraculous ladybug is not gonna be everyone's cup of tea and that's fine! but if you truly enjoy the fan content that much i encourage you to give canon a real shot. it's not that surprising to me that you watched 3 recent episodes and didn't vibe that much, since you haven't seen the 3 seasons of buildup that lead to them. miraculous has a neat way of tying a bunch of things together so if you aren't familiar with all of it, you're probably missing out.

personally my love for miraculous was kind of a slowburn at first. i only started watching the show because my sister and i made a deal that forced me to watch the first few eps lol. and i didn't really vibe either. but there must have been enough of a spark there for me to keep watching bc for some reason i did and the more i watched the more i fell in love with it until it became the thing that occupies my brain more than anything else. i started with canon and then got into fanon, but it could easily go the other way too. and if you're already invested in the story and characters, i have to imagine it would be much easier to push past the initial cringe of "this is a show about a couple of teen furries rated TV-Y7 on netflix" lol and give anything you don't vibe with the benefit of the doubt.

again, to be clear, i'm not trying to judge or gatekeep here! i'm just saying this because i genuinely LOVE miraculous. it's my favorite show. that's why i make things for it. that's why i have this blog. i want people to watch it. so maybe, pwetty pwease, try watching the show you like so much? 🥺👉👈

(source bc i was too lazy to make my own so i stole this from twitter)

[astralsweetness]

I can’t be honest (but neither can you) || Changkyun/Reader (m)

➣ I cannot believe this is my first contribution to Monsta X, this is really how I’m entering the writing side of this fandom OTL Also hello idk how to write short summaries?? I proof-read this at 4:30 AM so please tell me if I missed something lol. Fair warning I switch P.O.V.’s often in this and with absolutely no regard to any writing rules

➣ Changkyun/Reader | Angst[?] with a surprisingly happy ending that I didn’t mean to write | Showcases some bad coping mechanisms from both he and the reader | Mentioned Wonho/Reader, but it’s purely platonic in a sexual way | Smut warnings include: mentions of choking, pegging, fingering, mentions of a ruined sexual scene, sort of self-imposed edging if you squint, hair-pulling, facesitting

➣ It’s been almost a year since he called off the relationship and your name still tastes like a mixture between sugar and ash on his tongue when he says it, your picture is still saved in his camera roll, and he’s taken the plunge these last few months to reach out to you to be friends again. His hyungs tell him it’s a bad idea, and he tells them he knows, because he does, really, he swears he does. It’s just that his heart soars when he gets to talk to you and he can’t remember why he was ever scared of letting you in past that last wall he’d put up, and he’s going to your place and he hates himself because instead of “I love you” he says “please fuck me” and even now he can’t be honest to you about his feelings.

“I want you to fuck me.” He’s standing at your door, speaking in English with that deep voice of his, and you just blink blankly at him - he hadn’t called or texted to say he was coming over, and to be completely honest you hadn’t seen him in over a week. The silence is uncomfortable, but his eyes are intense, and he refuses to shift shyly under your blank stare.

“..well, come in I guess.” You invite him in with raised eyebrows - he goes easily, knowing your apartment like his own home. It’s been almost a year since you two broke up, but he hasn’t forgotten anything. That same stupid plant he hated was still on your table. He had no idea how it was still alive.

“So.. we aren’t together anymore, we haven’t hung out in a while, but you decided I’m the person you want to fuck you. Suddenly.” Your tone of voice conveys your lack of belief - this sort of feels like some very strange joke, but you have no idea who’d ever come up with one like this.

“You fuck Wonho-hyung all the time, and you aren’t dating him, so why can’t you fuck me?” His words are said in a rush, the first sign of nervousness, and you cross your arms and cock a hip. It’s your default power-pose, lets you feel like you’re in control when you have no idea what’s going on.

‘Is that really all it is?’ you want to ask, but you stay silent. He doesn’t seem aware that when you’re with Hoseok it’s more for the other man’s emotional well-being than it was just to get laid. Sometimes people needed to be broken apart and pieced back together lovingly just to feel okay. For Hoseok, you were a friend he trusted enough to let break him and then take care of the pieces that remained shattered on the floor.

“If you tell me why then maybe.”

“I’m not doing shit for a maybe.” He fires back instantly, gaze narrowing. His shoulders have tensed and he’s widened his stance, an unconscious reaction to the way your own body language had changed. Whether he actually felt it or not, at a subconscious level he believed he was being threatened.

You step forward and snag him by the forearm - the fight goes out of him instantly, replaced by pure innocent confusion as you lead him to your bed. He notices dully that you’ve redecorated your bedroom - though it makes sense considering he was the one who had helped you liven it up before.

“Sit - and try to relax. All the muscles in your shoulders are tensing up.” Your words have the opposite affect you wanted them to have - he tenses more, seemingly thrown off by your care, your notice of his minute actions.

You watch the way his gaze drifts over your room – it catches and lingers on a group picture of you and the rest of his group, tucked safely into the frame of your vanity mirror.

It’s a nice picture, though you really don’t remember taking it. You’re fairly certain everyone was drunk though, since you’ve got your arm thrown around Minhyuk’s shoulders in it, pressing your cheek against his.

It’s cute, even if looking at it is bittersweet. You can see the question on his face, the ‘why did you keep this?’.

“It’s not like I stopped being friends with them just because we broke up.” You feel defensive over your choice, face heating – you weren’t even near him in the picture, on completely opposite sides in it. He just murmurs a soft “oh” that sounds dejected, and you desperately don’t want to think about it.

“Anyway –“ You’re desperate to move on at this point, and he seems to feel the same because his attention snaps back to you. “You’re not really in a position here to argue and make demands, but fine -“ It was just sex, right? For you, anyway. “I can’t literally right now, I have a class in 30 minutes, but if you tell me why then we can negotiate.” You feel like some sort of fucking dealer.

He seems vaguely surprised you’ve agreed so easily, but he works his jaw and tries to figure out how to explain his reasoning to you - whatever it may be. You let him think and go in search of your computer bag. Online classes were a pain, especially those that required attendance in the form of a webcam. The bag has been thrown into a corner of your room, and you sigh and bend down to begin your annoying search.

“Well, we’re not together anymore, so..” You crane your neck to look at him, even as you continue to rummage through your backpack for your computer cord. Damn thing was in there somewhere, you knew. “I don’t have to worry about what you think of me anymore?”

He finishes his statement with an accidental upwards inflection that turns it into a question, and your hands pause before you turn back around and continue searching, mulling over your word choice carefully. ‘You never had to worry’ sits on your tongue, something that is desperate to be said, but you swallow it back down. He wouldn’t believe you and it’d cool the current mood.

“I see.” You finally settle on, standing and popping your vertebrae back into place as your prize - the fucking charging cord - dangles from your hands. Your two words could convey many meanings, and you can see from your peripheral that his brow has furrowed. It’s not the answer he was expecting, though you think he probably didn’t know what he’d been expecting in the first place. “Then - what is it you want?”

“For you to fuck me.” He answers again, and then swallows as he notices your blank stare has returned.

“I know that, you said that. I meant what specifically are you looking to get out of this?”

“I want it to hurt.” His words make your breath catch in your throat, emotions swinging between vaguely turned on and worried. Sure, he’d had some masochistic tendencies in bed before, but - “I mean - I don’t – not physically -“ He’s switched to Korean in the wake of your silence, a comfort language, and you wonder if he even realizes he’s done it.

“Okay.” You respond simply in Korean back and he stops his rambling, just blinks at you. You see the tension finally start to drain out of his shoulders and switch back to English purely for your own sake, because it was easier, definitely not because you wanted to be able to hear his voice speaking your native language. “So long as you promise to use safewords, I won’t ask. I’m not your therapist and I’m not -“

“My girlfriend.” He finishes your sentence quietly, back to English as well, and your mouth goes dry.

“And I’m not here to judge you.” You remedy - you weren’t going to mention anything about your past relationship, and he looks away quickly at that realization. “You mentioned Hoseok -“ His hand twitches at his side when you call his hyung by his real name, but you mercifully don’t call him on this. Maybe this was a bad idea, but you’ve gone this long purely on the denial that he regrets breaking up with you, and it’s too late to stop that now. “- so I’m going to treat this situation exactly like that.”

“Okay?” Changkyun has no idea what that means, his fingers curling into your bedspread. You check the time - 20 minutes until class.

“I’m your friend, and I want to help you. This doesn’t change anything between us, this doesn’t add some extra dynamic, some extra layer.” Your voice has gone business mode and he’s stiffened his back at it, an ingrained response from being in the music industry for so long. “I’m not doing this just because I want sex - if you are, that’s fine, but I’m just doing this to help you out. Is that clear?” He nods once, eyes wide. You think he’s cute. You’ve always thought he was cute, and it reminds you of how cute turned into smitten and smitten turned into perfection and perfection turned into love and love - well, he ended love. “Changkyun - do you promise this is just about sex or release of some kind and nothing else?”

Your tone had softened, and he’d been let out of whatever thrall your no-nonsense voice had put him into. The question hangs in the air heavily, dripping of a nectar so sweet it’s sickening.

“Yes. I promise.” His voice is hoarse, cracking and quiet - and you think he’s lying.

But you’ve held on to your denial for so long. He had said before that the spark was just gone - and what were you supposed to say to that? It wasn’t his fault; people fell out of love all the time. You could barely believe he’d ever been interested in you from the beginning and you refused to believe you were worth falling in love with for a second time. The fact that you had managed to remain friends is more than you could have ever hoped for.

“Okay.” You repeat his assurance, more for your own benefit than his. The room is quiet, and thunder rolls in the distance. Fuck - a storm meant spotty WiFi for your class.

You check the time again - 15 minutes.

“We can use the stoplight system -“ His gaze has blanked so you take the time to roughly translate it into Korean, explaining until his brow smooths out, and then you’re back to English. “Aside from that, though, I need to know what you’re interested in, what you want to happen or don’t want to happen. You can hang out here if you want during my class, or leave, I don’t care - but take the time to think over what it is you want in this session.” Your words are too clinical, you know this, but you can’t keep yourself from doing it that way. You know most of the things he’s into and not into, but if you don’t take this route then it all feels too intimate. Besides, he’d always kept a very careful hold of how much control he’d let go around you before, never wanting to slip too far into subspace, always wanting to seem in command, even when subbing for you. You wonder if that’s changed. You certainly don’t remember him ever blatantly asking outright to have something done to him before.

Memories flash across your mind eye, his back covered in your scratch marks, the way he moaned brokenly when you pulled on his hair, the way he came when you pressed your fingers to his throat. But he never asked for any of it - you had to ask if it was okay to do to him, and he always brushed off any of your attempts of aftercare.

You swallow again, feeling vaguely sick. Things had been broken in your relationship long before he called it off, but neither one of you wanted to admit it. Your heart hurts for multiple reasons, but when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye you know the biggest one: ‘I hope I didn’t hurt him by not talking about it’.

But he didn’t talk about it either. Did he care about whether it hurt you?

“Is that okay?” He’s been talking to you, and you startle out of your thoughts - a half-formed little smirk dances at the corners of his lips, one eyebrow quirked in amusement. He knows you well enough to know when you’ve been drifting. “I said, I’ll stay here if that’s alright with you.”

“Yeah, it’s fine - sorry, was just.. thinking.” It doesn’t really surprise you that he’s decided to stay - he’s confident to a fault, it’s true, but there’s a slash of shyness that strikes through his character, and you know that if he left he might not be able to come back. The thunder rumbles in agreement.

You half-watch him as you set up your computer on the coffee table – he’s looking around your apartment with thinly veiled curiosity, though you don’t really blame him. It didn’t really look anything like when you two had been together, and yet.. you felt it still had his subtle touch all over it. You wondered if he noticed that.

The class is boring, as it usually is – you’re watching the screen but your mind is far away, listening to your admittedly enthusiastic professor talk about the hyoid bone and articulations while your focus is on Changkyun. He lingers around you with a nervous type of energy, clearly not feeling allowed to roam around your apartment (it’d be kind of weird if he had, you admit) but also not feeling comfortable enough to sit on the couch next to you, even if he would have been off camera.

It’s almost like it was before, and you half expect him to sit down next to you anyway and throw his arm around your shoulder, always just off-screen, sitting next to you during your classes while he amused himself with his phone, just so he could be near you.

You’re just about to be able to feel the phantom warmth from the memory of his arm around you before he coughs and you startle, eyes snapping to him – he looks back wide-eyed, not understanding your surprise but murmuring a quiet apology anyway.

God you were so fucked.

.｡..｡.

“So?” The instant your class had ended you’d snapped the computer lid shut – you hadn’t retained a single thing said, what a complete waste. It wouldn’t have mattered if you’d skipped and focused on Changkyun in the end after all. “Did you decide on what you wanted?”

You’re so flippant with your question that he feels like he’s being asked about what it is he wants to eat instead of how he wants to have sex – the entire hour of your class he’d been nervous, and those nerves had by now tightened into a very tight ball at the base of his spine that periodically sent white-hot flames licking along his muscles.

“I –“ His mouth is so fucking dry and he hates how small he suddenly feels – he’d never felt like this around you before, but usually it had always been you asking if you could do something to him, hadn’t it? “I said it earlier. I want you to fuck me.”

He watches your reaction with pin-point precision – the small widening of your eyes, the way your gaze darts to the side like it always did when you were thinking something over – it wasn’t like you hadn’t ever fucked him before, but he’d never asked you to do so, and you clearly hadn’t expected him to come out with something like that so easily.

Why the hell could he say something like that and not something as simple as ‘I love you’, or even ‘I miss you’?

“Okay.” You’ve wrested your thoughts back under control – it wasn’t fair of him to say something like that, looking so utterly and effortlessly attractive. “As long as there’s no kissing I’ll fuck you any way you like, Changkyun.” You were over him and he was over you and this was just sex.

If you said it enough you’d start to believe it, right?

Changkyun just nods at your terms, looking a bit despondent – you can’t help the strong surge within you that says to fix it, fix whatever upset him, but you have a feeling you knew already. He’d always been a bit fixated on kissing you, but you knew if you let him this time then it’d all be over.

“I don’t remember you ever falling this far into the ‘submissive’ side of things, Changkyun.” You’re desperate to regain the upper-hand, and he flushes a bright red at your comment, grumbling out a weak “shut up” that has you smiling.

“Have you been experimenting?” You’re still teasing him but he bristles at the insinuation that he would have been with anyone after you – you had no reason to think he hadn’t been but the mere thought of being with anyone other than you makes him ache deep in his chest, in his soul.

“No.” He tries to keep his voice calm, but it wavers still and he digs his fingernails into the soft leather of his belt, pausing. “I haven’t been with anyone since –“

He can’t say it, but you understand regardless – he doesn’t like how surprised you look, ducks his head and lets his hair obscure his view of you as he refocuses on undressing. It’s not that you’d been wrong to be surprised with his decision for today, either – before you, he’d never really definitively considered himself particularly dominant or submissive, happy with having the choice to be either at the drop of a hat. That changed with you though – you had been so uncompromising with your power, beautiful and self-assured, and he knew without a doubt that if you so much as even hinted at it he would be on his knees for you every single time.

Not that he had ever told you that, of course. He’d never told you anything he really wanted to. Even now, with you looking at him softly, trying to see if you’d crossed a line with your little teasing jabs, the words ‘I’m happy being this for you’ get stuck in his throat and all he can do is tug his shirt over his head wordlessly, fingernails clicking nervously at his belt as he undoes it. You pretend not to notice the way your heartrate accelerates as he reveals his body bit by bit to you, slender waist but powerful figure, beautiful skin, beautiful body.

“Well, then – lie down.” You gesture to your bed and he swallows down the stupid fucking butterflies he gets at the gesture – he’d been on your bed before, he’d been in this position before, there was absolutely nothing to be nervous about.

And still, despite his nerves, a pleasurable chill runs down his spine when he hears the cap of the lube being clicked open, and he forces himself to exhale as he shifts and tries to get comfortable on a comforter he no longer recognized, in a room that had no trace of him in it anymore.

You look at him with a level gaze, always so calm, and he ignores the erratic beating of his heart and nods his assent for you to begin, immediately shifting his gaze to your ceiling.

Why the fuck was he so goddamn nervous?

(He tries to forget the way he instantly whimpers when he feels your finger, slick with lube, probing at his rim, tries to forget the way he gets hard in under a minute from your heavy gaze and one finger alone, and god he aches for more, aches for anything you’re willing to give him.)

“You’re taking this awfully well.” The teasing comes out unbidden, spilling past your lips before you can even think about the words – but it’s true, for someone who had claimed to not have been with anyone since you he was taking your fingers incredibly well.

“My own hands – fuck – exist..” His snarky response turns into a shaky moan halfway through when you decide to carefully – but quickly – add a third finger. There’s something erotic (and interesting) to you about that, thinking over the fact that Changkyun had been finger-fucking himself ever since you two broke up.

“You look good like this.” It’s an attempt to make up for the previous teasing but all it does is cause him to groan and throw a forearm over his eyes, legs spreading wider when you hit that spot deep inside.

“Fuck, jesus – fuck..” It’s a broken sob instead of an actual sentence (though he manages to stick with English), a familiar feeling already building deep in his gut. He’s not sure if it’s because it’s been so long since he’d been fingered by someone else or if it’s because it’s you doing it, complimenting him while doing so, or if it’s a combination of everything, but his back arches against his will and he knows he is seconds away from coming undone already.

“Stop – stop, oh my god –“ At his desperate plea you stop moving completely and he wants to sob as the pleasurable feeling slowly ebbs away, an almost painful drag as it settles back into a dull burn. He’s gasping, tiny whimpering sounds as he sucks breath back into his lungs, chest heaving – his eyes are wide, fingers curling into your comforter. He looks frantic, frightened almost, and even if it wasn’t your responsibility you knew you’d be desperate to fix it.

“Changkyun, ar –“

“I’m fine.” He bites it out angrily, doing his absolute best to look like he had been anything but moments away from an orgasm five minutes into.. whatever this was. He’s shutting you out again, before anything even begins, and it fills you with such an irrational anger that you have to suck in a breath of your own to keep from lashing out, taking gentle care to extract your fingers even as your blood boils.

“Stop fucking lying to me.” You can’t keep the ice from your words, even if you manage to control the volume and pitch – his dark eyes snap from the ceiling to you in surprise. There’s a panicked feeling bubbling up in his chest, because he really doesn’t know if he can handle you calling him on his true feelings for you right now, doesn’t want to have to admit he still loves you while he’s naked and so vulnerable.

“I’m not –“

“Stop it.” His mouth shuts with an audible click of his teeth, so sudden is your cut-in. Your brow has smoothed out, no longer angry, instead immensely sad, and he’s not sure this is any better. “You said you wanted to do this because you didn’t have to worry about my opinion. So why are you still doing it?”

He can’t breathe, and the lube is drying sticky on your fingers, and for a moment neither of you are aware of the position you’re in, the way the thunder has become your constant background music – he’s looking at you unblinkingly and you’re staring back, and it’s too intimate, too much, but neither of you look away.

“Please stop.” He speaks and it’s barely a whisper, the sound of someone’s heart breaking louder than his voice. You don’t know what to say but open your mouth anyway.

Lightning flickers outside your bedroom window and then your apartment is shaking from the resounding thunder, the power flickering and then plunging the two of you into darkness. Suddenly you can breathe again, and you’re quickly trying to slide out from in between his legs because he said ‘stop’ and he was fully coherent even if he hadn’t said ‘red’, because he said ‘stop’ and you have only ever wanted him comfortable.

“Wait –“ He is frantic, grabs your forearm with frigid fingers as he leans half off your bed to catch you from retreating too far. It’s hard to see him but you get flashes from the light outside your window, electricity reflecting off his dark eyes in starbursts.

“You said to stop.” Your voice is broken and you feel so powerless, sick inside because while you rarely manage to ruin a scene it still tears you up inside each time, and Changkyun wouldn’t let you try to fix it with aftercare and you don’t know what to do anymore.

“I meant –“ Stop talking, stop laying me bare and open, just fuck me and make me forget everything, stop being you so I can stop loving you. “I just want to be ruined.” He says instead, and his voice is so low but so weak that you barely recognize it.

“I can’t do that if you don’t let me.” Your clean fingers curl around his and gently pry them from your arm – but then you keep holding them, and you want to let go but you can’t remember how to tell your body to do so. “Will you let me, Changkyun?”

The air is still and silent aside from the rain slashing angrily at your windows – there is no thunder, your own heartbeat loud enough (or maybe it was his, you didn’t know anymore).

“I want to.” He answers instead, voice quiet but a bit stronger than before, and your eyes have adjusted so you can see the features of his face vaguely now, follow the line of his brow to his cheek to his lips, and you’re leaning in and you hate yourself because you had promised this was the one thing you wouldn’t do.

“Let me wreck you then, baby.” And oh that nickname was a mistake but you’d said it anyway, a ghost of a whisper against his lips, a proposition and a plea all in one. He moves forward the last centimeter and connects your lips as an answer, a sound that is almost one of pure relief being ripped from his throat.

It’s like he’s been waiting years for this moment, doesn’t even fight as you grip his jaw lightly and angle him into a better position so you can scope out the inside of his mouth with your tongue, relearning things you had known long ago but had thought were forgotten.

There’s a flighty feeling in his chest, one of nervousness and expectation – he doesn’t want to give you control so easily, he doesn’t want to be opened and laid bare in front of you, he doesn’t want you to see something you dislike in him – but more than anything he wants you to touch him and keep kissing him and god he fucking misses you, has missed this. He’d asked you to ruin him, you’d asked to wreck him, but he knew he was already both ruined and wrecked just from being near you again, from having your lips on his own.

You try to slide your hands back down his body but he stops you, continues to kiss you as his fingers curl around your own, and the act is so intimate it almost feels wrong.

“Just – hurry up, I’m ready enough.” He manages to say scattered between four different kisses, never apart from your lips for more than a few seconds. You hate yourself for not even trying to stop him, leaning into them each time.

“You can stretch yourself some more while I get ready.” You have to pull away from him completely to say this, and he follows you like you’ve got some magnetic pull on him before you’re off of the bed and the connection is broken.

Even with your eyes adjusted it’s hard to properly get the harness on, fingers fumbling with the straps but managing in the end. You can hear him breathing harsh, anticipating – you can tell from the sounds alone that he hadn’t taken your advice, but you’re not surprised. Always your little pain slut, even if he had never wanted to admit it.

When you approach him again his eyes are wide, brow furrowing as he notices you’re still fully clothed – he keeps his mouth shut tight though, gaze darting in the dark. The storm still rages on outside but neither of you even notice it anymore.

Your fingers on the inside of his thigh startle him – he jumps, trying to close his legs, but you force them back open again. Something about that simple action makes a moan trickle into his throat, but he swallows it back down stubbornly.

He can’t conceal the next sound he makes when you press the blunt tip of the strap-on to his opening, though, a rasping whine as you push in slowly, so fucking slowly. Even with all the lube he knew you’d slathered over the toy it still takes a bit of work to get it into him, and every slight stretch makes him grit his teeth in a masochistic type of pleasure, feeling so full by the end that it makes him so painfully hard his head spins. It hadn’t taken long to get him worked back up, but he’s not really thinking about that right now.

All he knows is that he wants to be close to you, wants to feel good, wants to make you happy – he wants so much that he doesn’t think he can even begin to put any of it into words. It always ends up at ‘I love you’ and he already knew that was a phrase that lodged in his throat like knives.

“Please.” This he can say – you don’t know what he’s begging for but he’s begging all the same, the word ‘please’ becoming a chant that slowly shifts back into his native tongue when teeth mark his throat, fingertips pressing insistently into his hips as you fuck him hard and rough. He hopes, distantly, that it bruises. He wants to be able to remember this for as long as possible.

If he was present enough in the moment he might have been embarrassed by the sounds he was making – his naturally deep voice has transformed completely into high breathy whines, all trace of his ‘savage rapper’ persona gone when you bite his lip hard enough it throbs before you’re flipping him, pushing his shoulders down into the bed with one hand.

The feeling of your palm, small but blindingly warm on his back, makes him weak enough that his thoughts stutter, head a chaotic mess of fractured thoughts and sensations. His eyes are open but unfocused – it’s dark in the room anyway, but he’s unaware of it, cognizant only of your presence and his, that warm fuzzy feeling in his chest competing with the white-hot fire you were stoking lower in his pelvis.

You want to cry at how beautiful and perfect he is for you, the way he arches his back instinctively, presents himself as your own personal plaything – but he wasn’t yours, you had to remember that, remind yourself over and over that this was just sex. (If you repeated it enough it started to stop sounding like real words, and that was equally as dangerous as forgetting them in the first place.)

The head of the strap-on teases his entrance and he groans, clenching his fists into your pillow – you’d taken it out when you’d flipped him and he was fighting against every fucking urge and want and need his body was screaming at him to just take the plunge and force himself backwards. (But another part of his brain is telling him to wait, to make you happy, to draw this out as long as fucking possible because he has no idea if he’ll ever get to experience it again.)

“Can you tell me what you want?” Your voice is soft as silk, quiet, and a fluttery feeling rises up in his stomach at the sound, at how you’ve modified an order to be a request. He doesn’t know how he feels at the realization that you were taking it ‘easier’ on him verbally, that you had at some point come to understand he was having trouble letting go completely.

“I –“ He tries, he really fucking does, but like always the words get stuck in his throat. He just can’t seem to bring himself to admit what he really wants out loud and it is destroying him. One of your hands smooths down his side, lingering at his hip, and he feels like you’ve left behind a line of pure fire on his skin, almost burning away the shame and hatred he feels at himself for his fucking inability to be vulnerable, his cowardice.

“Just fuck me.” He says instead, defeat coating his words – and he can feel you hesitating, because it was obvious he’d meant to say something else and hadn’t.

He opens his mouth to say something, though he has no idea what, at the same instant you decide to slide the strap-on back into him. Whatever he’d been planning to do is gone from his mind instantly, his world reduced to just the dull burn, the frustratingly slow drag against his innermost walls, the way you manage to somehow brush up against the spot that has him trembling and dropping to his forearms. He curses in a strange mixture of Korean and English and you laugh softly at the sound, even as you slide out and thrust back into him hard enough that he jolts forward.

He feels, in a sense, like he is being broken in all the best ways – all he can focus on is you, all he can feel is the way you’re fucking him, grabbing at his hips. His breath is caught in his throat and he just knows he is going to ache later, bone-deep and satisfying.

But it’s not enough, never enough – you’re not asking to do more to him like you had in the past and he can’t manage to tell you what he desires most (though, at this point, he’s not totally sure he could say anything coherent anyway). He reaches back with one hand, groping – your fingers wrap around his and he drags them up to his hair, a wordless plea. He hopes you understand what he’s asking for.

A broken moan is ripped from his throat when you fist your hand in dark strands and pull backward, forcing him into an arch – his mind has blanked into varying shades of white, electricity on his skin and molten lava running through his veins, your heat against his back overwhelming.

You know it’s a bad idea before you do it, but you lean down and press you lips to his shoulder anyway, teeth scraping over feverish skin – the hoarse whine he gives at the feeling makes wetness pool between your legs, uncomfortable and wrong because this was just sex, this was just supposed to be for him.

The urge to mark him up is so strong it’s almost distracting – your hips falter in the bruising pace you’d set as your mind drifts, Changkyun groaning at the sudden shift in speed.

“Let me –“ He’s gasping, feels like he’s been running a fucking marathon or drowning (and oh, he has, drowning in you, in his expansive and terrifying feelings for you) but he knows your hips have to be sore by now and to be completely honest he is just downright greedy, wanting to feel you deep inside, wanting to –

He just wants so much. He reaches back to press at you gently and you let him move you instantly, trying to figure out what had bothered him – as soon as you realize he just wants a change in position you’re grabbing at his hips again, tugging him over your legs. His cock drags against the fabric of your shorts and he nearly sucks in a breath, trying to focus on lining himself up instead of the way it throbbed (or the way you were looking at him, hair splayed out on the pillow and yet so in command still).

He thinks he should feel more in control like this, on top of you, hands braced on your shoulders – but he doesn’t, not at all, and he knows instantly that he isn’t when you snap your hips up to meet his and he falls onto you, moan vibrating against the skin of your neck. He can feel your fingers in his hair, nails scraping against his scalp, can feel the infuriatingly teasing way his cock is rubbing up against your fucking shirt you never took off. It’s gone untouched for so long that it’s absolutely aching by now and he thinks he might actually be able to orgasm like this – but he doesn’t want to, not yet, even with how border-line painful its become. He doesn’t want this to end, doesn’t want to have to go back to a world without you in it.

His hips stutter on top of yours when you tug on his hair again, grinding hard against the strap-on, and you lift his face high enough you can press your lips to his, all hot breath and panted moans. He tastes of honey and heartbreak and you want nothing more than to make him cum and fall apart, trembling, on top of you.

“Am I ruining you properly, baby?” Your voice is dark red and sinful, and he trembles at the sound and tries to seek out your lips again, a whine lodged in his throat when you tighten your grip on his hair and keep him in place, rolling your hips languidly up to meet his frantic movements. “Tell me.”

“Fuck..” He responds instead, deep and rough in his chest – it cracks into a high moan when you punish him with a harsh upwards thrust, fingers curling into your shoulders. Your soft laugh, amused or delighted he’s not sure, makes a feeling like electric butterflies break out across his skin. If you had let go of his hair he’d have buried his face into your neck again to hide his expression – but you haven’t, and he knows you can see everything, every part of him, every expression he makes.

He thinks he must look stupid, embarrassing – but all you see is pure beauty. His brow has furrowed and sweat drips down to his collarbones, bruised lips parted slightly, glistening from where you’d kissed him earlier. Hazy eyes try to look anywhere but your face failingly, allowing you to see the foggy galaxy residing in their darkness. You’re not sure if what you’re seeing is his pupil or iris, but you find it gorgeous all the same, intoxicating.

“I’m going to make you cum, Kyunnie.” He shakes at your dangerous words, your knife-sharp gaze. You’re aware he never responded to your last question. “You’ll fall apart up there, ruined, just like you asked to be.”

Your words wrap around him, coiling tightly like chains – he feels caught, trapped, and he wants nothing more than for you to make good on your word, even if it sends a sharp trill of fear through his stomach.

The grip on his hair lets go suddenly and he sags forward, as if your pull on him had been all that was keeping him upright. He’s left a mess of pre-cum on your shirt, flushes a dark red when you drag your fingers through it thoughtfully.

“Messy boy..” You muse, heat spreading through you when you see the way his cock jerks at those two simple words, so red and aching, so fucking beautiful and desperate.

Fuck, you wanted so badly for him to be yours.

One of his hands flies to your wrist when you finally wrap your fingers around him – more of his weight is on you now but you can’t find it in yourself to mind, not with the way he’s breathing hot and wet against your neck, the way he doesn’t stop you when you move your hand, just clings to your arm desperately like he’s not totally sure he wants to be touched yet.

A choked sound leaves his mouth, lips bitten bloody, and you turn your head so you can breathe against his ear, let him press his face further into your neck. “Such a little whore..” You murmur, and he sobs open-mouthed against your skin and thrusts weakly into your fingers and then back onto the strap-on, unsure of which feeling he wanted more of. “So beautiful. So perfect.”

A part of him feels like he’s dying, unsure if he was really okay with being so vulnerable with you – but another part of him, the larger part, feels like he is fucking soaring, like this is all he had ever wanted and more. There are flames licking at his body, coiling tighter and tighter in his stomach, and he’s not sure how much longer he can last like this.

“You can fall, Changkyun.” Your voice is in his ear, like the sound of silk sliding over skin, fingernails tracing lightly along the back of his neck. He hates the way he reacts so viscerally to it, climax surging forward at the sound, at the way your fingers slide wetly over the head of his cock pinned in between the two of you. “It’ll be okay, you can fall to pieces. I’ll catch you.”

He orgasms with a wail that makes him flush a dark red, and he would have been mortified at the sound if every nerve ending in his body wasn’t currently sparking, his muscles spasming as he tries to keep thrusting into your fist even as the lightning bolt sensations turn from overwhelming to painful. He doesn’t even realize tears have slipped from his eyes until he feels your lips kissing them away, and he is hit with such a wave of emotion that he can’t breathe all over again (and it is just pure emotion, he couldn’t identify a single one of them if he tried).

After you slowly pulled out and settle him on the blankets he watches, distractedly, as you slide the straps down over your hips, leaving it on the floor to be dealt with later. Impulsively he reaches out to catch the edge of your shorts when you try to head to the bathroom, tongue sliding over chapped lips when you turn that powerful, beautiful gaze of yours on him. One of your eyebrows has raised, appraising him as he slowly tugs you back to the bed until you’re resting on your knees next to his waist. Sweat is drying sticky on his skin and he’s trying not to feel like he’d done something wrong, reacted in some undesirable way that you’d remember and relate to him for the rest of your life - but above all that, he wants to taste you. It’s the only consistent thought running through his mind, more prevalent than the lingering unease at having bared so much of himself to you.

“Please.” Again, it’s all he can say, eyes so dark and wide, pleading – his fingertips rest lightly on your hip, over the waistband of your shorts, lips parted ever so slightly. It’s so obvious what he’s asking for, and you want to say no. You’re pretty sure you need to say no. “Babe –“

You surge forward to cut him off mid-sentence with a brutal kiss and he gasps – you didn’t want to hear that, and you can tell from the way he’s frozen that he hadn’t meant to say it, even as his body returns the kiss on pure muscle memory alone. This entire experience had been a mess, a mistake, and yet –

“Okay.” It’s more a breath against his mouth than a word, but the way he smiles at your soft agreeance makes your heart hurt. You were in so deep, had fallen so far – how foolish of you to think you had been over him. How fucking stupid you’d been.

He wastes no time, pulling your shorts and underwear down like he’d done it hundreds of times before – because he had, you note dully – fingers wrapping around your thighs. When you sink down onto his face a tension drains out of his body that neither of you had even noticed was still lingering.

All he can smell is you, all he can taste is you – you surround him and this is all he’s ever fucking wanted, to be possessed by you, to be as close to you as possible. He’s not even totally sure what he’s doing aside from the fact that he’s putting his absolute all into it – he’s just trying to taste every inch of you he can, tongue delving as deep as possible before switching to suck on your clit. There’s no rhyme or reason to his method and it has you letting out a quiet sigh that borders on a gasp. He tries to memorize the sound instantly – any sound he could get out of you was a treasure in itself, but he wasn’t sure he’d ever get to hear them again after this.

There is no particular build-up to your orgasm – it’s at first lingering briefly bone-deep and then suddenly it is upon you in streaks of lightning, hips grinding against his face but mouth stubbornly shut. You can’t let this be any more intimate than it already was. (And yet you instinctively reach down and lace your fingers with his, and his thumb smooths across the back of your hand as he continues to mouth at your cunt, drink up your fluids. You are so utterly and completely stupid, your heart in your throat.)

There is a moment you want to carve out afterwards, a small bubble in time where the two of you could just bask in the afterglow and pretend like nothing had changed from a year ago – but you can’t let yourself do that, pushing yourself up off the bed even as every fiber of you begs to remain beside him for a moment longer. His fingers remain holding yours a moment too long before dropping to your bedspread, defeated.

Your heart suddenly felt like it was three sizes too big for your body, filled to the brim with love for a man you knew you’d have no second chance with, and you clench your teeth tightly to keep it from oozing out between your teeth like bittersweet sugar.

He’s still panting when you return with a damp cloth, reaches for it as if he really expects you to make him clean himself off. You scoff and catch his hand with your own, setting it back down on the bed as you begin to clean off his face first. Whether you wanted to avoid intimacy or not there were things you simply refused to throw to the wayside just because you wanted to remain distant, and one of those was taking care of him after sex. (He’s more receptive this time than he used to be, not fighting you and claiming he was fine, letting you dote on him with a sort of hesitant and soft acceptance. It makes your heart hurt all the more, the pure ache and want almost unbearable.)

“You’re always so messy..” It’s meant to be a light comment but the two of you accidentally lock gazes when you say it, your hand stalling in its motions. He looks like he wants to say something, lips parting – your breath catches in your throat, waiting, but he ultimately just shuts his mouth, gaze darting away from you. Your breath leaves you in a small burst. “Just relax, Kyun, I’ve got you.”

It’s the typical words you say to a sub after an intense session (with an accidental affectionate nickname that you bite the inside of your cheek for), but you mean them, and you don’t want to, but you do, irrevocably. You know that if he needed it, if he asked for it, you would let him stay here for as long as he wanted. You knew that tonight you wouldn’t be asking him to leave. And for that you are so, so incredibly fucked. (You wonder if he is too, judging from the way his eyes widen at the nickname and his breath stutters – but you crush that thought instantly, don’t dare to get your hopes up.)

He’s surprised that you take the time to clean him up, bring him water and a change in clothes – they aren’t his but they’re clearly a man’s, and he wonders if they belong to Hoseok considering the size. Something deep in his chest hurts at that thought. He’s even more surprised when you pull on an oversized shirt instead of telling him to leave – he faintly realizes that he recognizes it, a soft violet that hung down to your lower thighs and always felt soft against his chest when he’d hold you – crawling into bed next to him after changing into it, though he’s automatically moving to accommodate you, perfectly content to throw the thick comforter to the floor to be dealt with in the morning.

“Is.. this okay?” Your voice is quiet, so tentative and soft and hesitant, and all he wants to do is tell you yes, this was more than okay, this was everything he had ever wanted.

“Yeah – I mean, it’s your bed, so..” He hates himself for the way he responds, swallowing hard but taking the initiative to slide his arm over your side, nose in your hair. He can feel the way you tense, but you don’t say anything against it or try to pull away. “And.. this? It’s okay too?”

“…it’s okay.” It’s a small response but he inhales deeply in relief, drinking in your scent half by accident. It’s the same smell he had missed for so long, the one he’d dream of and wake up thinking there was a chance it still lingered on his pillow, heart dropping through his ribcage when he realized it wasn’t.

Despite the nerves fluttering in your stomach you fall asleep fast, mentally drained and physically exhausted - his fingers trace the line of your shoulder, head pillowed on his own arm as he watches you sleep. There is a purely warm and happy feeling trying to spread through his body, but it doesn’t make it very far before the remembrance that you still weren’t his and he still wasn’t yours freezes it in its tracks. He feels like his heart is melting, dripping through his ribs and oozing into his stomach and making him sick.

He’s shaking your shoulder before he even knows what he’s doing, and you’re half-awake and groggy but so fucking beautiful and every single one of his nerves feels like a live wire underneath his skin, buzzing and loud and painful, and he is so scared, but he is also tired. Tired of hurting, tired of missing you, tired of the way Kihyun will be talking about you but stop awkwardly when he notices Changkyun listening, tired of the way he smiles so big his cheeks hurt when the two of you talk on the phone, tired of how he swallows down the words “love you” every time you hang up – and he’s fucking tired of being scared most of all.

“Changkyun, you better be fucking dying..” You’re angry, always angry when woken suddenly, and he just wants to kiss you.

‘I love you, I’m stupid, I was scared, I always loved you, I never fucking stopped, did you know I would dream of you? Did you know that you were the only thing on my mind? On plane rides, in the vans, backstage, all I could think about was you and my hyungs all told me I was just hurting myself and I knew that but I still hoped that somehow you and I would end up happy together.’

Like always he can’t say any of it. It sits on his tongue and he just utters a quiet ‘fuck’ instead, throat tight. Why couldn’t he fucking do this?

“..Kyun?” He’s sitting up now, and you are too, side by side – your expression is open, sleepy but worried, and he has a sudden urge to take your face in his hands and kiss your eyelids.

The scariest part of telling the truth, of laying yourself bare for someone, of letting them in, was that they could take one look and never come back. And maybe he’s not afraid of loving you – maybe he’s never been afraid of loving you, with your eyes that hold the only stars he ever wants to look at. Maybe he’s been afraid of not being loved back.

He swallows hard, reaches for every bit of confidence and courage performing has ever given him, forces himself to be brave the way the industry has taught him to be. Moonlight filters in through the window and he thinks your eyes might actually house the milky way in them somehow.

“I love you, still – always. I never stopped.”

He can’t breathe because you’re just looking at him, stunned and disbelieving, tears collecting on your lash-line but not falling, never falling, and he feels like the fucking worst for telling you now, this way, this bluntly – but he knows if he didn’t say anything he would have never said anything, and he’s not sure he could have survived that, so the words had fallen from his lips hard and heavy and desperate to be said. (And a part of him is still surprised he even managed to say them at all, rushed and frantic as they were.)

“I –“ Your brow is furrowed and your voice is thick, but when he reaches to brush your tears away you let him and his lungs start to tentatively fill themselves with oxygen again.

When you smile it is watery and weak but it is there, and he feels like sunlight has reappeared in the lining of his skin, bright and blinding and warm.

[just-dreaming-about]

Young!Remus Lupin x Hufflepuff

Yasss I’m back! I was so frustrated because this one didn't work out for me, took me forever to finish. I hope you like it although it’s something like a first approach, too soon to be dating... it’s more like they are building the relationship? IDK I just loved writing about Remus, I think he deserves all the love in the world! Feel free to comment if you want or a like, would be really appreciated. Thank you!

Nereida Wellstrom was probably one of the most popular Huffelpuffs girls in sixth year, she was the daughter of one of the most important magizoologists of the moment and her family was owner of a natural reserve for all kind of magical creatures. Aside from everyone wanting to get along with her because of her father and his influence, she was also well known for her lively and distracted character; she always forgot that cheating step on the stairs or was so distracted talking to someone that the ghosts of the castle always pierced her. Of course, she was the target of many of Peeves' pranks. Nereida's reaction was usually to laugh at these accidents. Another of Nereida's quirks was that she was always up to something. Despite being one of those people who caught your attention as soon as she entered the room -with her toasted skin, her shiny short brown hair, the sweet bangs that fell over her chocolate eyes, the smooth shape of her face that gave her a sweet and boyish air as well as her short height for her age it was as if a toasted pixie walked through the halls of Hogwarts cheerfully- she had managed more than once to avoid being seen by her companions and thus save some fairies who were going to cut their wings like ingredients for a potion that they had to work in class. No one had seen her but everyone knew it had been her as soon as professor Slughorn appeared in the classroom very disappointed that they wouldn't be able to work on the potion he had prepared for that day. Everyone expected Nereida to be elected prefect and if the letter came that she had been named as such, she didn't tell anyone. There were rumors that she hadn't been given the position due to how clueless she was and it was even said that she herself had rejected the position but no one could confirm them. In short, Nereida was -as everyone said- perfect. So perfect that couldn't even be prefect.  Actually, what was happening was that the girl was too busy studying magical creatures like her father and the rest of her family. Her passion led her to break Hogwarts rules from time to time like that incident with the fairies, the Cornish pixies she released in her second year, her strange friendship with the giant black lake squid or her late night escapes in the early forbidden forest to try to find those wolves so smart from the rumors. 

-I'm telling you they are real! -she exclaimed as she left the dark arts class.

As almost always, Nereida was surrounded by girls: two Hufflepuff girls who were her dorm companions and three Gryffindor girls looking at her with humor, one of those Gryffindors was Lily Evans. Nereida and Lily didn't always agree on many things but that was the basis of their friendship, a healthy rivalry in which in the end they ended up helping each other to improve. In fact, it was Lily who spoke in a frustrated tone as this was a recurring theme.

-Listen to me, Wellstrom. That thing of the wolves is only a rumor, it isn't known if they inhabit the forbidden forest. -But there are records that those wolves exist, Evans. Read a little, will you?

The girls had stopped a few steps from the classroom door they had just left and were openly arguing in the middle of the hallway. All wanted to give their opinion and none gave their arm to break. In fact an arm appeared between the girls, trying to shamelessly wrap around Evans' shoulders.

-Try it and I'll hex you, Potter -the redhead threatened without blinking an eye. -Evans! -James greeted without losing his smile- What are you talking about now? -Ladies -Sirius greeted smiling at the group of girls and causing the giggles of some of them.

Nereida watched the four boys with renewed interest that only Remus Lupin noticed because the other three were distracted by the girls, as always. A curious fact about her that not many people knew was the strong connection she had with magical creatures. Let's see, everyone knew about Nereida's passion with any living being, magical or not, but almost nobody knew Nereida's ability to perceive the emotions of the creatures that surrounded her. It was an overwhelming skill that she kept secret despite her popularity. So she couldn't remember a single time that Remus was close to her without feeling anything. Anything. Fear, emotion, nerves, relief... But since last year, whenever the group of four boys was around, she had this unpleasant feeling of feeling a hundred emotions at once. Frustration, pressure, confidence, nonchalance, nerves... It was as if there were a thousand animals surrounding her and each of them felt something so strongly that she couldn't help but notice it with even more intensity. Once, because of this she had ended up in the infirmary lying about how little she had slept from staying awake studying. The Hufflepuff noticed something different about them and although she couldn't say what, a sensation was so strong that she took Lily's arm -which was the one closest to her- in search of stability. The redhead looked at the girl with a frown but said nothing as one of the other Hufflepuffs informed the boys -Sirius specifically- of the conversation although Nereida suspected she was only informing them to get their attention. Sirius and James were smiling openly seemingly carefree and attractive to almost the entire group of girls, Peter struggling to feign half the confidence his friends displayed while Remus clutched the books under his arm and prayed that the conversation would end soon. At the request of the Defense professor, the group began to move towards the end of the corridor and towards the stairs, towards the Great Hall.

-So smart wolves -Sirius summed up looking at James and Remus with an ironic smile that neither of the girls understood their true meaning- Who believes those things? -For your information, Black -started Nereida who had already regained color on her cheeks- It’s a real study. It's only happened twice, that is known, but werewolves... Do you know what they are, Black? Do you listen in Dark Arts? -Every now and then I think a teacher talks to me but I'm not quite sure, Wellstrom -he joked earning the laughter of the girls to which he replied with an arrogant smile. -What do werewolves have to do with wolves in the Forbidden Forest? -James asked, now was hard for him to pretend the security that Sirius showed. -The thing is, when two werewolves pair during the full moon... -Stop there, Wellstrom. There are ladies in front, are you really going to tell us a naughty story like that?

Nereida rolled her eyes and Lily sent her a knowing smile as the other girls feigned shyness and laughed to gain the attention of the attractive boy. They had to stop for a few minutes and wait for the stairs to return to their previous position to continue on their way to the Great Hall.

-The result are puppies that will never take human form -she finished explaining to James's watchful eye who soon looked at Remus who was turning pale at times- The rumor is the international magic security ministry entrusted Albus Dumbledore with the care of one of these litters and is rumored to be at Hogwarts. In the forbidden forest to be more exact. -And you are interested in that rumor... why? -Remus dared to ask, earning a look from Sirius and Peter while James didn't bother pretending to be curious about the answer to that question. -Werewolves, Lupin! They are natural predators that only attack humans, wouldn't you like to know why? -Not especially... -Remus muttered looking at his friends. -Well I do. I know werewolves are dangerous, but aren't they fascinating?

The gaze of the entire group towards her made her blush. Some gestures went from annoyance to surprise, others shame and strangeness. She coughed.

-If those wolves are there, if there is a pack of smart wolves in that forest and they can understand me enough, maybe I will discover something new about werewolves. There's a potion to calm them down on full moon nights, what if there's some way they can keep their consciousness on those nights? What if there’s still something to discover? Wouldn't be fascinating to be the first person to discover something so important that would benefit a large group of people who have been oppressed and mistreated for generations, for being something that not many have chosen to be?

The awkward silence that followed her speech made her feel very small for a moment. These were the downsides of popularity, as soon as people understood how rare you are they would actually leave you alone. Nereida didn't mind being alone once in a while but she couldn't bear to be treated like crazy by her closest friends. Lily Evans was the first to laugh while the other girls didn’t know what to say and the boys exchanged intense glances with each other.

-I love that you look for the good side of the most dangerous creatures. For real. That just show how sweet you are but... don't you think if there was a remedy like the one you say it wouldn't have been discovered by now? -That's the problem, Evans! There is a small part of the magical community that suffers with every full moon and nobody cares! And meanwhile, there are cruel murders of which the perpetrators aren't aware and have to bear the blame for crimes they don't remember. Or even incriminate them at the slightest opportunity! It's unfair! -I love your enthusiasm, Wellstrom. You're adorable. But you're only a sixth-year student, shouldn't you lower the bar a little? -Did someone tell to the great Scamander to lower the bar? Evans, he is the author of... -Fantastic beasts and where to find them, I know. It's your obsession since I know you. -Always with the name of Scamander on the lips. Not that you were in love with that old man -Sirius joked, slapping Remus on the back to distract him from his thoughts. -Like Professor Dumbledore said... -Lily began to say, watching the other girls get rid of this awkward conversation by sneaking down the few stairs that separated them from the Great Hall- If Newt Scamander hasn't found it, it's not worth finding. Have a good afternoon, Wellstrom.

And without further ado the redhead followed the other girls to the Great Hall. Nereida stared at Lily a second and then turned to the boys who were still sharing mysterious glances and seemed to want to get out of there as soon as possible.

-You believe me, right? -I believe you’re a crazy little pixie but you're cute, Wellstrom -Sirius smirked as he pinched her little nose before running downstairs pulling Peter with him. -I believe what Lily has said. Sorry, Wellstrom -James summed up following his friends.

Nereida stared at the boys with a slightly offended gesture, her cheeks red from helplessness as she found no arguments to back up her theory.

-If it’s of any use, I think it's a very beautiful dream.

Remus spoke so softly that Nereida almost forgot he was after her. Actually the boy had gone down a couple of steps while he was talking and now they were almost at the same height. Remus's gaze, normally calm and friendly, was nervous now and his eyes tried not to stare at hers for long. His scars only intensified the sweet look his nervous eyes hid.

-I'm sorry that they don't believe you.

Nereida closed her eyes for a second before open them and smile. The boy no longer conveyed to her any overwhelming feelings as before. She held the Defense Against the Dark Arts book to her chest and looked at him with her characteristic joy. 

-You know? It's the quality of one's convictions that determines success, not the number of followers. -Wise words. Do you mind if I take note?

The boy's smile this time did make her feel something, but this time it was a feeling of her own that made her blush without losing her happy smile and her nervous laugh.

-All yours! Thanks for your words, Lupin. -Remus! Sirius is going to eat your part if you don't come!

It was James smiling at his friend from the big doors of the Great Hall. The two laughed together and headed toward the room to head to their respective tables, sit with their different friends, and enjoy a carefree, laughter-filled lunch. No one would say that from time to time the cheerful brown eyes sought that sweet and shy emerald gaze only a few tables away. She didn’t know that the boy in question was still talking about the topic they had had on the stairs with their friends. The four heads were close together as they ate as fast as they could while talking about that remedy that Nereida had mentioned. It would be a dream come true for Remus and his friends thought to study all the possibilities. So for the next few weeks the marauders began to haunt the library for information, any kind of information, to give them a clue about the potion Nereida was talking about. Surprisingly, it was Peter who suggested that they look in all the books about lycanthropy in which the name Nereida Wellstrom came as on of the last readers. Occasionally, Nereida herself found the four boys at different levels of boredom or attention as they struggled to read the complicated texts before them. Lily even told her that it was the first time she had found Potter minimally attractive with his nose stuck in the book in front of him and barely paying attention to his surroundings. Nereida cheerfully commented that people could surprise us for good if given a chance. The little Hufflepuff was at one of the tables with the Gryffindor redhead, both comparing the conclusions of their respective essays for the potions class, with a certain touch of rivalry between them, while the two girls from Ravenclaw, another Hufflepuff and another Gryffindor they were trying to finish their own essays.

-Evans, lovely as always. -Potter, annoying as always -she replied without looking up from her parchment.

James, Sirius and Peter walked past the girls' table laughing and sat at their usual table, each with a few books under their arms. Nereida smiled widely as she sneaked a glance at Lily as the redhead's eyes strayed at last from the parchment towards the boys. The brunette tried not to laugh with all her might, so to avoid a new discussion with her friend, she decided to get up and look for another book to compare the information in her essay, even though she knew that the information was correct. Leaving behind a couple of bookshelves, she found a well-known boy with scars and shy eyes searching the books. He hadn't noticed the girl's presence yet, so she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one was seeing her and took a few silent steps toward the boy, biting her lower lip in anticipation.

-Hello, Wellstrom -the boy greeted without even turning to look at her. -Why do these things never work for me? -the girl's broad smile settled on her face as she took a couple of steps back, hands behind her back, trying to put on an innocent smile and failing miserably. -Try a less strong perfume -he commented absently picking up a book and opening it to see the list of latest readers. 

He didn't seem to like something because he closed the book and tried another one again.

-Today I haven't put perfume -she replied absentmindedly picking up a lock of hair and smelling it to check it.

The boy finally looked up at her in surprise and a surge of nervousness enveloped her again. The boy's cheeks glowed subtly red.

-What a fine nose you have -Nereida laughed, downplaying the matter. -Yeah... I have to go, the boys are waiting for me -the boy tried to run away where she had come from and the girl pulled back a little to let him through. -Did I say something that bothered you? -she asked in time to stop him before he came out of the small corridor that formed the two shelves that covered both of them with foreign eyes. 

He took a few seconds to turn around and look at her with guilty eyes as she stared down at the ground not really expecting any response.

-No... It wasn't you. It's just... We're investigating something and... -I have noticed it -she replied smiling a bit and looking at him at last- You have broken a record, Lupin. Potter and Black in the library several days in a row. It must be the insignia of the prefect. -Must be -he dared to laugh slightly, shifted the weight from one leg to the other, and dared to say- About your perfume... It's not too strong... it's... nice. I'm sorry, Wellstrom. -Nereida -she smiled broadly and cheerfully, a slight blush on her cheeks- Please, I can't bear such courtesy when we're friends. -We're friends? -I think?

He was genuinely surprised and she was still smiling broadly with that slight blush on her cheeks that made her really look like a little pixie about to burst with excitement. She brushed a lock of hair from her face, further exposing the blush on her cheeks but when she fixed her eyes on the boy he seemed suddenly concerned.

-I... I have to go now... Nereida. -See you later, Remus.

The young werewolf returned to the table with his friends still a little worried about the conversation. The others were so engrossed in the books that they paid no attention to his red cheeks or to the fact that for the next hour he pretended to be reading as his leg moved frantically. Discreetly casting glances to the other side of the library to see how Nereida was trying to suppress a laugh while Lily was looking at her annoyed for some reason, her friends also trying not to laugh at the situation. It wasn't right. It wasn't fair. It was one thing to watch her from a distance, talking to her only when the occasion required or was necessary for some class. Another, very different, was to let a friendship develop and allow something else to grow because... Merlin, he could smell her nerves every time the girl approached him, he heard her heartbeat when he released a subtle compliment about her intelligence or her looks and he could literally feel her gaze across the room. Someone like him -someone so horrible and monstrous- feeling something for someone as her -so sweet and pure-? It was destined for failure. He wasn't made to have that kind of relationship. He looked at the boys sitting with him. Peter was taking notes as he turned the pages of the book in front of him. Sirius was leaning back in his chair, holding the book at his eye level to force himself to continue reading. James took the opportunity to give him a bright smile of encouragement as he put down the book he had been reading and took another from the pile they had formed in the center of the table. Friends. Something unknown to him until he got to Hogwarts. A wonderful feeling since he had discovered that this was a relationship that was allowed for him. Friends. Something he could handle. Beyond a friendship?  Nothing. Not even try. Impossible. Prohibited. The noise of moving chairs caught the attention of his green eyes, quickly moving towards the source of the noise. James made a comment to Lily that she ignored. Nereida gave him one of her happy and dazzling smiles. He was screwed. The little Hufflepuff gathered her things, still chatting with her friends all of them significantly taller than her. Even he had to lower his gaze to meet her eyes but it was worth it. She had the happiest and kindest eyes he had ever seen. Not even James who treated him with the greatest kindness could compare. Sirius put an arm around him, causing him to fall backwards to support his back on his chest, Sirius' arm around his neck and the other hand tousling him.

-Enjoying the views, Moony? -No! I was... I just... -Don't be ashamed, the girls of our year aren’t bad at all -laughed James.

Remus's cheeks found a new color of red while Sirius was still tousling him.

-It will be dinner time soon -Petter commented rubbing his eyes and leaving the book in the middle of the table next to the others. -We're leaving now then -said James getting up. -We should pick this up guys -Remus tried, pointing to the books they had left on the table. -And take away work from the librarian? How cruel, Moony. What will she do if we do the work? -was Sirius's carefree reply as he dragged him to his feet and leave the library.

Still down the hallways on the way to the Gryffindor common room, Sirius kept wrapping his shoulders, making him walk awkwardly, while also hugging James and complaining that they hadn't done anything fun with their lives lately. Lily Evans and Nereida Wellstrom glanced at them as the four passed the girls on their noisy march from the library. The redhead looked annoyed as the brunette looked at them amused. By the time the boys noticed Remus' feelings for a certain Hufflepuff, it had been several months since they finished their search for any werewolf elixir and the end of the year was fast approaching after exams were over.

-And you haven't said anything to us all this time? -James said as they celebrated the end of the exams with a few bottles of butter beers in their dorm- Us? Your brothers? Your companions since we can remember! -James, we met in first year. -As if that mattered, Moony! -Sirius yelled with tears in his eyes.

At this point in the night and after so many butter beers they began to act funny. Who would say that those two would get drunk on simple butter beers? Remus and Petter had to make efforts not to laugh because they hadn't drunk as much and because those two alone were making enough noise in the dorm, they didn't want to be noticed.

-I have told you everything about my Lily, how much I like her, since when I like her, my wedding plans... -Yes, Moony! Even the things we didn't want to hear, even when we told him to stop he kept talking.

Petter laughed at this statement and Remus rolled his eyes. Sirius took another drink to his beer.

-Exact! -exclaimed James dropping his butter beer- Because that's what friends are for, Moooony. To talk about our feelings and open up to each other as we will never open up with our girlfriends. -Even if we'll never have a formal girlfriend, Moony! -You two are ridiculous. We should go to sleep. -Oh, come on, Moony. It's getting funny -said Petter as Sirius hug him. -It's getting ridiculous and loudly. 

The others would complain about this. The both of them continue complaining about girls, how they always wanted more or never have enough or always being annoying, each of them with a different thing to complain about. Remus just roll his eyes, Nereida wasn't like that and they didn't have anything they were just good friends. 

-But that's what they want -Sirius murmured wrapping around Remus's shoulders and pulling him closer to whisper but he wasn't whispering at all then he started talking trying to imitate a girl but it sounded ridiculous- Oh, Rem, I love talking to you, let's be friends. Let's spend more time together. Let's start dating! Why are you afraid of getting a relation, Remus? Am I not enough for you? -That's enough, Pad -Remus laughed breaking free from his friend's hug- and that last one sounded a bit like Marlene. -She hates me again, guys! -he yelled dropping backwards until he rest his back on the ground and stare at the ceiling. -Well, you were kissing her last week -Petter accused him before taking another sip of his beer. -Yes... She kisses well... Why are girls so complicated? Remus, forget what James tells you. Get away from that Hufflepuff, friends before girls! -he threw his fists into the air, making the other three boys laugh.

As Remus predicted earlier, one of the senior prefects came to shut them up so they went to bed as quickly as they could. When Remus was sure that his companions were asleep, he allowed himself to think long and hard about the brunette that had lately occupied his thoughts. He had tried to hide it, pretend nothing was wrong but by now it had become an impossible task especially when he couldn't help but blush if she caught him staring at her, his heart raced when she talked to him about something about caring for magical creatures and she leaned in toward him -her elbows brushing or she resting her hand on his arm- to whisper something she didn't want anyone else to know. She made him feel like they were the only ones in the room sometimes. She made him feel like he was worthy sometimes. Lost in thought, he missed James's first attempts to get his attention and only when the other's pillow landed on his own scarred face did he turn to look at him.

-What, Prongs? What do you want now? -he spoke in whispers so as not to wake the others but his friend heard him perfectly. -We were being honest, Moony -he sounded serious and concerned about it- I know it seemed like we didn't take your feelings seriously... -I don't have those feelings, Prongs -he responded by throwing the pillow back. -Yeah, Moony. Whatever -the other laughed, receiving the pillow and arranging it to drop comfortably onto it- You are always there to cover our backs and clean what we dirty. You take great care of us and we want to thank you. If any of us deserves a little happiness, that's you Moony. -And what about Sirius? -he appreciated the darkness of the room because he felt his cheeks flush. -He knows how to handle himself, is stronger than you think. He also cares about you, even if he doesn't say it and is always joking. -I know...

Remus and James were silent for a few seconds, the werewolf thought that the other had fallen asleep but when a loud snoring from Sirius's bed broke in the room, both boys laughed together.

-Thanks, Prongs. -Anytime, Moony.

Friends. What a wonderful thing. Sometimes they can be your greatest comfort. And others can be so annoying that you wish you had killed them when you had a chance. The last weeks of the course were accompanied by a last full moon that left Remus exhausted and with even more reasons to try to make his friends abandon their efforts to get him a girlfriend because that was simply not going to happen in this life. The very petite brunette was unaware that three Gryffindors and seemed blind to any comments they made. Sirius and James were so subtle with Remus' secret that every time the girl entered the same room as them, they both instantly looked at Remus with malicious smiles and made unsubtle comments. Remus felt embarrassed and tormented by this, his friends didn't understand how far their insecurities went and they pretended not to matter but they did matter. For him they were everything. The central pillar of his life was a great deal of insecurities and fears as much about what he could do to the people around him as what people could do to him if were known he was a werewolf. At the same time, the young Hufflepuff was seen to be increasingly interested in Remus. Remus Lupin to her had always been a mysterious and nerve-racking person in more ways than one, he always seemed concerned about something and for some reason always seemed to hold back as if something he could do or say brought out the most horrible of the secrets. Nereida on the other hand wasn't interested in having any formal relationship or she said to her friends, she had had several dates but no boy who had shown interest in her seemed really interested in what the girl had to say so Remus Lupin losing his shyness to talk to her from time to time it was a breath of fresh air throughout the course. Remus, ignoring all the suspicions that he might arouse in her thanks to her secret gift or what she had heard and seen with her own eyes, seemed genuinely interested in everything the girl wanted to share with him and didn't get bored or interrupted her when she started to get excited about her passion. It was new, refreshing and something she had never felt before. Sometimes even she could feel her own nerves playing with her and her heart racing in anticipation and excitement or flushing red when she was with him. She didn't really know what these reactions were about but they were generally good feelings and she allowed herself to enjoy them without losing her happy smile and laughing as a reflection of the nerves she felt. Finally, the last day of class came and as the Marauders boarded the express and occupied the same compartment they always sat in, James struggled to get Lily's attention, Sirius pretended not to notice that Marlene was kissing a Ravenclaw in front of the boys' compartment, Peter was spending all his money on candy for the trip. For her part, Nereida could barely find an empty compartment so she ended up in the same one as Lily Evans and a bunch of other girls she felt comfortable talking to, but throughout the trip she hardly enjoyed her seat. There was always someone who wanted to talk to her, there was always a girl who took her out of the compartment and took her to another to the other side of the express because something she had to know had happened, some boy stopped her in the hallway to try to talk to her and the line for the bathroom was endless. She didn’t realize that if she paid attention to one of the compartments that she passed continuously, there was someone very attentive to every little gesture she made debating with himself whether to speak to her or not. With only a couple of hours to go before the trip, when Lily dragged her back down the hall to go take off their uniforms and put on normal clothes, when the Marauders had already changed into casual clothes, when Sirius left the door of the compartment open to lean on with James watching people pass by and waving to some from time to time, when the two girls returned to their compartment laughing because a boy from Ravenclaw had tried to flirt with Nereida and had been cut off with a scathing comment and smart of her... James interrupted the girls' way to comment on how pretty Lily Evans was in casual clothes, the redhead responding annoyed at the comment while Sirius couldn't help but laugh. The brunette's eyes searched the interior of the compartment and finally found those shy eyes that could barely look at her for several seconds in a row. She smiled at the boy's shyness and waved happily. He did the same. Peter saw this interaction and got up from his place to push Sirius and James out of the compartment, Potter colliding with Evans and causing another discussion, excusing himself that they had to accompany him because they had run out of chocolate. Nereida was very happy with this new opportunity and to Remus' torment the boys sent him gestures of encouragement while they were lost in search of more sweets, the brunette excused herself with the redhead and entered the messy compartment that was full of candy wrappers that the boys had been eating the whole trip.

-What a feast -she laughed as the boy's cheeks turned red as he tried to remove some of the clutter for the girl to sit on. -You know the boys -he managed to smile between the shame he felt at that moment. -Yeah, they are specials, right? -You don't know how much -he whispered but she didn't understand the message as she sat in the seat he had cleaned for her right in front of him.

A comfortable silence settled between them, Remus seemed about to lose his nerve trying to focus his eyes on anything but the girl in front of him while the girl was biting her lower lip thinking about what to say. Her feet were barely touching the ground so he swayed them a bit as he thought about a topic of conversation.

-Well... Summer, finally huh?-she tried. -Yeah -he nodded absentmindedly, mentally cursing himself for not being able to give a consistent answer and he was supposed to be the smart Marauder. -Any interesting vacation plans?

She didn't seem to mind Remus's lack of words, she was smiling as always while gently swinging her legs giving her a childish and tremendously adorable air in the werewolf's eyes. It was as if her small body couldn't wait to share something with him, like a true pixie.

-The usual, I think. I will spend the summer with my parents and visit James and Sirius.

Again he wished he had come up with a better answer, his summer suddenly seemed so boring although while planning with the boys it seemed like the most amazing thing that could happen to him. For some reason he found himself wanting to surprise her because she always had better stories to tell. He, of course, had good stories to tell but couldn't share them with anyone else or his secret would be revealed and he would be kicked out of Hogwarts or worse. Her smile, however, did not seem disappointed by Remus' plans although she did expect something similar. A chocolate frog jumped between them from a pile of sweets that they thought were empty. The poor chocolate frog jumped to Remus' knee, picked up momentum, and went out the window. The two laughed together at the scene and for a moment Remus' nerves seemed to slow down significantly as he could now look the girl in the eye with a calm smile on his face.

-And you? What plans do you have? -Oh, I think I'm going to visit my uncles in Romania. My father hasn't confirmed yet, he wants me to help him in the reserve because in a few days the diricawl will be born and he still cannot find a new assistant to study them. -But you are wanting to go to Romania, right? -he smiled knowing the answer beforehand. -Dragons, Remus! -she finally exploded with emotion, her eyes shining at the idea of those dangerous creatures- Authentic, huge and majestic dragons! Nothing to do with the illustrations in the books. Miss that for some harmless birds that disappear when they get nervous? -And don't forget that they are dangerous too. -Only if you tickle them, haven't you learned anything from Hogwarts? Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus

His response was to laugh and agree, in the end he always agreed with her because it was easier and because of the triumphant smile that appeared on her face when she won. The two continued talking for a long time, he was finally relaxed and able to carry on a conversation with her while she was unable to stop smiling all the time. When the other boys returned to the compartment, Nereida had moved to sit next to Remus while explaining how they managed to take care of the diricawl in the reserve. Remus didn't want to end the conversation but they were about to arrive at the King's Cross station and she had to go back to her own compartment with her friends. James, Sirius and Peter squeezed against the door to make way for the girl as they smiled at Remus, who he preferred to ignore. Once the girl was out of the compartment and the boys regained their seats, the brunette turned around, preventing the door from closing, surprising the boys who were going to start bothering their friend.

-Would you mind if I wrote to you this summer?

Remus's cheeks flushed before Nereida's cheery eyes and nervous giggle as James and Sirius exchanged a mischievous smile and Peter pulled out the new candy they had bought.

-Definitely! -Sirius exclaimed when he saw that Remus was slow to respond and the girl's confidence began to decline discreetly, putting an arm around his friend to wake him up. -And he will also write to you -James replied -He will be waiting anxiously for your letter -completed Sirius for Remus’ torture.

The girl laughed, more from nerves than from the boys' responses, as Remus struggled to get rid of Sirius's arm that was preventing him from breathing well. She said goodbye to them, smiling especially at Remus and closed the door at last to go to her seat next to Lily to whom she had to tell a lot of things suddenly but she only took a few steps when the door opened and Remus stumbled out trying to avoid to his noisy friends.

-Nereida! -the boy's voice attracted her attention and she turned around waiting for him to speak, which took a couple of seconds more than it should but in the end he managed to say- I hope you can go to Romania.

Nereida expected something else? Probably since the boy almost fell as he left the compartment and also it seemed that the nerves were winning him again while his cheeks reddened again. But all she did was smile, ignoring her own blush and the nerves growing in her chest.

-I will write you whether I go or not. -I will read anything you write to me. 

The girl's cheeks glowed even more red and her nervous giggle won the battle this time.

-Have a nice summer, Rem. -The same for you, Nereida.

The girl's cheeks glowed a new shade of red when she reunited with her friend and the other girls but in the end she said nothing about what had happened between her and Remus. It suddenly seemed too private between them even if it had happened in front of James, Sirius and Peter. Even she didn't know why, but she was looking forward to writing with Remus and knowing more about him and maybe seeing each other during the summer. 

Suddenly going to Romania didn't seem so exciting.

[kaylor]

what are your thoughts on lover (the album)?

bad things: it's a bit bloated. iftye and the man should not have been on the album, they're just not good. i think she should have stuck to one type of production rather than have lots of different styles which makes the album quite jarring to listen through sometimes. the placement of certain songs is awkward. she could have done with someone in the room with a critical eye/ear to just be like "maybe don't put false god after the song about your sick mom". joel little added absolutely nothing of value to this album. overall it doesn't sound finished. or like it was finished but then she kept tweaking it/switching songs and it's just very messy.

good things: some absolutely banging lyrics and vocals throughout, that cruel summer scream is not something i will ever get over. it always takes me until after tour is over to assign legendary status to any song, like i dont fully Get It until i've seen it love. that was the case with rep and i think a love production will make me enjoy a lot of songs more. see: cornelia street acoustic. there is a lot to discover in this album, there are so many layers, and so much of it is so so so gay. personally i love me! and yntcd, they're very enjoyable and got me super excited for album release. they make sense as singles considering how she has chosen singles in the past. there are so many highlights on this album in terms of emotional storytelling (but a lot of it is overshadowed by wack production) and it would definitely have benefited from visual aids such as (good) music videos to really bring it to life.

i was very excited for this album and i do like it but the way that it has been treated (lacklustre promo, poor single choices, uninspired music videos) like lover shouldn't have been a single imo, the man is even worse. the music videos are so full of easter eggs it's a chore trying to watch them. personally I'll be very happy once she can start making music you can take at face value. reputation was full of metaphors but lover has taken it to another level and it's made a lot of it very inaccessible? like she is so caught up with hiding the true meaning of songs, and crafting this dual narrative that it actually almost detracts from the music. idk if it's just because i personally am annoyed that people still misinterpret her songs as being about a random english twink (literally take your fuckin pick) but at some point the art needs to speak for itself. at some point i want her to not have to create an elaborate mystery game to tell us what she's actually singing about. especially when things that appear to be clues turn out to be Nothing At All, it's become very tedious and it's soured my perception of this album and era.

fingers crossed for ts8 rock album. i just want her to use some fuckign guitars again please

[eldritchsurveys]

994.

01 — Is your mood or the overall tone of your day often affected by the dreams you had the night before? >> Not often. Well, I assume not. Sometimes I wake up feeling like I’m being crushed by melancholy, but I don’t know if that’s because of a dream I can’t remember or if it’s just something that happens when I wake up sometimes.

02 — Do you listen to podcasts? If so, which ones? When do you typically listen to them? >> The podcast I usually listen to when I’m in the mood to listen to a podcast (read: not often) is Welcome to Night Vale.

03 — Have you ever used exercise as a way of controlling/releasing your emotions? >> No, I’m not sure that works for me. Or I don’t know how to get it to work for me. Mostly I just don’t enjoy exercise, so, you know. (I imagine hiking would be nice for emotional processing, but idk about just... walking around on the sidewalk, which is all I have immediate access to.)

04 — How do you define “beauty,” and to what extent does it matter to you? Do you think that beauty is something that is actually attainable? Do you actively strive to be beautiful, and to what lengths do/would you go to attain beauty? >> I don’t really think about beauty enough to have opinions about it. I tend to be uncomplicated about that -- I like looking at some things and I don’t like looking at other things, and that’s really all there is to it. What other people think is beautiful is their business. I’m not interested in being considered beautiful by random people or anything.

05 — How do you keep track of your finances? >> The bank’s mobile app? I don’t really have enough finances to warrant a dedicated tracking method. I pretty much know where all my money goes because it can only go but so many places.

06 — Do you remember the very first time you came across surveys or the Xanga survey-taking community? How long after that did you take your first survey or start your own account? >> That was almost 15 years ago, so, no, I don’t remember the first time.

07 — Do you think that there are any positive aspects or outcomes of suffering from a mental illness? If you have a mental illness, do you think it has changed you for the better in any way? >> I’m having to approach identity and self-conceptualisation in a different way, and while it’s hard, I think ultimately that experience will be of great benefit to me. I don’t know what other positive things that I can think of are a direct result of living with trauma-brain -- for example, is my desire to be compassionate a result of having suffered at the hands and minds of so many callous people, or is it just a natural feature of my personality that has somehow endured said suffering? You know? Where does me end and the trauma-brain begin, that sort of thing.

08 — What is your opinion on celebrity culture and celebrity worship? Have you ever been guilty of putting a celebrity on a pedestal? Do you think it’s somehow more acceptable/understandable to obsess over certain types of celebrities (musicians over YouTubers, say) than others? At what point do you think an obsession like that crosses the line? >> I find celebrity culture/worship to be a little off-putting. I do realise that a lot of the people I encounter who are entrenched in disturbingly intimate parasocial relationships are probably just young people who will eventually grow out of it, so there’s that... but, you know, not always. Also, even so, the social culture doesn’t really do much to discourage it -- we have shit like TMZ and paparazzi and tabloids, and I’m sure the direct access that people have to celebrities (through Twitter, Youtube commenting, etc) doesn’t really help in boundary-forming. Frankly, it’s just an endemic problem, how we treat performing artists and personalities, and I wish they could just be treated like people.

09 — Do you enjoy livetweeting? If so, what sorts of things do you livetweet about? >> I don’t use twitter. I do sometimes post on tumblr as I’m doing something, like I’ve posted FFXIV thoughts while playing FFXIV. I’d forget what I wanted to say if I waited until I was finished, lol.

10 — What are some expectations you had about your education or career, and how do they compare to the reality? >> I didn’t have any expectations. Other people had them for me, and of course I failed those expectations.

11 — If you were to pursue a career in photography and had the opportunity and means to photograph whatever you wanted, what would most like to photograph? >> I’m not sure.

12 — Is there a certain type of clothing (outerwear, activewear, loungewear, etc.) that you enjoy shopping for more than others? >> I don’t enjoy shopping for clothes at all.

13 — Do you consider yourself an insecure person? What things are you most insecure about? >> I never thought about it. I guess I am insecure about certain things, yeah -- that’s just not usually the word I use because it’s inexact. 

14 — How concerned are you about your internet privacy? What sort of information do you avoid giving out online that others may readily offer up? What do you think of the argument that “I don’t care if [government organization] surveils me because I’ve got nothing to hide"? >> I’m not terribly concerned about it. I try to be careful about how I use the internet, what I say where, that sort of thing, but I don’t obsess over it. I think that argument is flawed, and plenty of people have explained why (it’s also used as an argument against being afraid of the police, and is equally flawed there).

15 — Is there someone in your life who always seems to be looking for your sympathy/pity? How do/would you deal with someone like that? >> No. I think my reaction to that would be to grey-rock them; I don’t like being manipulated into giving sympathy. If you really feel like you need something in particular from me, please learn to ask for it directly. It might feel weird, but it’ll have a much higher possibility of success than the passive methods.

16 — Do you tag posts for trigger/content warnings? Does it bother you when people don’t do so? >> Not unless I know I have a follower who is triggered by specific things and has asked for content warnings as a result. I’m not a mind-reader and I can’t be responsible for literally everyone who comes across my content. Once again, ask for what you want (and understand that the answer might not always be in your favour, particularly if you’re a stranger to me). I’m just some random blogger, you can just unfollow or block me if necessary.

17 — Do you have any projects that you’ve been thinking of starting for a while but haven’t gotten around to? Are there any ideas for projects that you have that you don’t think you’ll ever get around to? >> Nope.

18 — Are you ever afraid to post your ideas, artwork, photography, etc. online for fear that they will get stolen or not credited? >> Nah, that’s never been a fear of mine. While I’m big about crediting artists and will do image searches to find and put in the source of uncredited art before I reblog it, stuff like that, I don’t really care if someone tries to steal my work. Especially since my work is writing -- you can only get so far in stealing writing, after all. Like, good luck.

[mailorderfictionalcharacter]

a list of semi coherent thoughts I’ve had about mcu wanda maximoff

0.5 this post is open to discourse. if u are unwilling to see viewpoints that are pro wanda or anti wanda this is not the post 4 u.

1. wanda runs off of very powerful emotions and that’s an a + character trait. her rage fueled grief and power is just fascinating to watch.

2. ew whitewashing why do you do this to me mcu. stop. enough.

3. yeah it’s kind of ridiculous to kill the ex-ceo of a weapons company that killed your parents as compared to whoever fired the missiles or whoever ordered said military action but it’s not that ridiculous if you apply the barest modicum of generous interpretation to it.

Tony Stark was emblematic of the very destructive American ideal of we’re great and right and coming with guns. Going off of IM2, even as he was doing great things (”I’ve successfully privatized world peace”) his performance was still very um American (”no one’s man enough to go [against me]”). Like as audience members we get it but I could see how that sort of look-at-me attitude would not ring like redemption to someone in that much emotional pain. Like, you could easily read their actions as being about attacking every American/foreign influence figure head, which is sort of supported by the fact that the twins wanted the avengers down not just Tony Stark.

If the weapons were illegally sold there’s no guarantee the twins knew that Tony wasn’t responsible. It’s possible Tony leaked the truth about Obadiah after the “I Am Iron Man” press conference, but the original plan was a SHIELD coverup.

I’m not inclined to conflate profiting of our wrongs or moral ambiguities on the same moral level as instigating wrongs, but it’s also up in the air whether or not Stark Industries cared about collateral damage in the design of their weapons and that’s something the twins could legitimately blame them for. IM1 canon is a mixed bag - we have intellicrops (concern for philanthropy) but we also have, y’know the Jericho (the weapon that levels mountains)

(read more under the cut)

tl;dr: wanda is a fascinating flawed character who suffers from writing problems but she’s also wearing the name of a jewish/romani woman even though marvel studios is too much of a coward to translate that to film & i’m perpetually bitter and indecisive about everything.

4. the twins had enormous social factors encouraging them to hate the avengers/america. even american media was questioning the avengers; shield had fell; people were putting up anti avengers graffiti

5. considering the twins spent their formative years in a country at war and lost their parents I’m assuming they went through quite a few economic hardships.

6. what sort of access did the twins have to media or education?

7. I’m not inclined to blame the twins for their desire to get revenge but it is worth noting that they seemed to have very little concern for collateral damage even though the only thing we as an audience knows for certain is that the whole reason they’re seeking revenge is because of collateral damage.

8. there’s a gap of 8-12 years between the death of their parents and their attack on the avengers. no matter what mitigating circumstances there were (and I think there were a lot) that’s a premeditated crime

9. there’s a lot of parallels between wanda maximoff and kira nerys except the writers on Star Trek: Deep Space Nine actually cared about Kira Nerys.

10. both of Wanda’s major fuck ups (willingly unleashing the Hulk on Johannesburg and failing to protect everyone in Lagos) happened in African countries. I believe in some suspension of belief for superhero movies but I’m not sure it’s entirely appropriate to be like hey! look at Wanda! the whitewashed character who fucks things up in African countries! such girl power! great anti-imperialism message!

(I mean, the same disregard applies to all the avengers though. I’m pretty sure the safest interpretation of Lagos is “the avengers could have done better by not fighting in proximity with a bunch of civilians” which is on Steve. And unless I fever dreamed this Steve tosses his cowl at the feet of anti-avengers graffiti in the beginning of aou and there is nothing appropriate about that).

11. Wanda was introduced in AOU, a movie with sub par dialogue and tbh I have a feeling Whedon et.al never thought through the implications of Johannesburg bc he just wanted a convenient way to introduce a hulkbuster fight.

12. tbh I really want a scarlet witch movie to fix all of this but I also really want a recast and I know I won’t get either (fanon wanda is the best because we can fix all of this with a hammer).

13. CA:CW seemed to draw on a lot of Wanda’s comic history (specifically in the oppression metaphors) but since it followed the clusterfuck that was AOU I can’t exactly give them a standing ovation for that.

14. ca:cw did a very bad job following through wanda’s plot threads from aou. tbh I’m not even team we need to stretch Wanda’s redemption arc further but idk, it might be nice if she mentioned her dead brother or tied the Lagos incident/Sokovia accords to, idk, her past living in a war zone.

15. ca:cw could’ve given me wanda wryly commenting on how luxurious the compound was compared to sokovia but instead it gave the should-be-jewish character a cross in her bedroom and fuck that marvel why don’t you just stake me through the heart so I don’t have to deal with your bullshit

16. I wish wanda in the airport scene was more about her desire to do good (go stop the supersoldiers) than the awkward oppression metaphor

17. although push come to shove I would’ve focused on poverty/american foreign intervention over calling the powers she volunteered for the source of her oppression the whole raft scene does demonstrate that people whose powers (or even training) cannot be separated like say Sam and the Falcon or Tony and the suits face a special criminal justice risk.

but this isn’t really relevant to the accords, which are not the SHRA and honestly the same ethical problem of how to incarcerate enhanced people exists whether or not someone is acting as a superhero (is it ethical to put a psychic murderer in solitary confinement if that’s the only way to prevent them from using their powers to escape or assault guards?)

18. according to beta canon/film subtext wanda & pietro did not willingly sign up to work with hydra. Just good to remember.

19. I will forever be attached to the idea of wanda liking Vision’s company because he is both practically invulnerable (not going to get shot 7 times on a floating city) and emotionally dependent on her support (just like Pietro). (this is not implying twincest btw)

20. I think wanda’s house arrest in ca:cw is not completely unreasonable (she’s probably awaiting investigation & is at risk of being hurt/hurting others from mob violence) but definitely steve (and probably natasha & sam) should be under house arrest as well. but they aren’t, and I think it’s fair to say that in universe that’s xenophobia/anti-immigrant sentiment. why be afraid of the american icon when you can be afraid of the poor sokovian woman?

21. antis make way too much of the whole “she’s just a kid line”. like steve was responding to tony calling her, a human being, a weapon of mass destruction. like, he was just trying to humanize her and calling the youngest person in a group a kid even when they’re an adult isn’t that strange.

22. in lagos wanda was trying so damn hard to stop that bomb and yes she didn’t manage it but blaming her instead of steve? uh gross.

23. how much experience does she have? yes tony stark throwing himself into superheroics worked out surprisingly well but superheroes need training

24. I insist marvel release a 22 page dissertation on wanda’s mind powers but also if I don’t like it I’ll call it not canon. (my initial theory was that she produces ptsd symptoms - even if the person normally doesn’t suffer from ptsd - but something in the confidence that she can manipulate tony before entering his mind makes me think she has slight suggestive abilities beyond fear and also thor’s vision arguably followed a different vein)

25. antis like to argue that the maximoffs only turned on ultron because it benefited them but let’s be clear the maximoffs fought ultron because they thought he was wrong and wanted to personally help. they could’ve just tipped off the avengers and left or left ultron to do whatever ultron was going to do and only fought him if he directly came after them okay the twins had options and they chose the most altruistic option.

26. ppl who say wanda isn’t really whitewashed because marvel’s decades of retcons have whitewashed her at past points are pretty much using a two-wrongs argumentative fallacy.

[the-reactionist]

self-HATE re:programming

i’ve been thinking A LOT about Teal’s self-hate/doubt destructive programming; i had that too when i was in a sexual sect/religious cult here in Bulgaria;

in essence the programming goes against everything you now is natural in you - self love, self care, self confidence etc.

i used to need to get out of that so i figured out i could train my emotions and clear my messed-up head a bit by doing this: i would grab something i knew is positive, and try to convince myself or another person it is bad - so my heart space knows innately this is good, and i will try to fuck with my mind to see how the damage is being done, not involving any true hatred in the excercise, just seeing where my mind would lead me:

so i know veganism is good, but i would grab the vegetable ‘carrot’ and will try and convince someone carrots are not good for them and how they are not good for them; or either i will try to speak to myself about what benefits not eating carrots may have. this is exhausting but it brings a lil’ peace to mind because when you have a suicidal, self-destructive pattern imprinted deep within you, it is super hard to even take a rest, so you become too tense to be around. in my case i was put into psychiatric institutions and heavily medicated and had electric shocks performed on me, because of that. that restlessness is what “priests” would call “demonic”; it’s the kundalini energy unleashed. but anyways, let’s focus on the practical things one can do to rid themselves of negative programming;

i would put myself in the shoes of the abuser and at one point begin disbelieving the programming i have had because my focus is on something i see as completely beneficial for me or for anybody - a carrot, a kitty, etc.

i would argue in my mind with myself pointing out any detail i might wish to present as negative (there’s hair all over the house when you have a cat, smell of poo, etc) about the thing, and then give time to my emotions to settle and see when my head is cleared what my heart decides for the overall beneficil or non-beneficial aspects of the object or thing - for example, a carrot.

it’s liek breakign a spell.it takes a lot of work that looks ridiculous from  distance but this is the only way to master your mind back to your personal benefit, and put down te chains another hasforced onto you; in teal’s cse it is super intense and terrifying so the more time it would take, i believe, sinceshe was super young when it all started;

a more powerful exampel even would e i will take a mountain and i will be like hating the obviouslly beautiful place i am in - it is difficult getting there, tehre may be bears around, blah-blah; and when mymind is settled and i get tired of complaining, i will be at peace and find the beauty round me, forgetting abotu any ill though i’d had previously, because of disbelief in my self and my inner strengths;

idk what happens when you begin negtign soemthing that is obviouslly positive without reson - like lying to yourself actually; my mother has that, the person who tortured teal obviouslly hs that too in some form, but i think this leads to insanity, or else - deep mindfuck; possibly teal’s problem is that she is sensitive and experiences stuff not so much like ordinary people - with a distanced perspective of the moody, sleepy 3d body, but her whole world is made up of vibration and is constantly spinning nd whirling, flowing or else in motion; and i suppose the scary things she has heard and been made to contemplate, are a hundred times more debilitating because it i like having a virtual reality headset and nto being able to escape from the feeling of the bad things you are told maerializing before you in your physical space;

idk if that is actually helpful, but at least i have compassion for your pastexperiences, teal; i hope you will rid yourself of any traces of that damageing programming real soon <3

i would do this as a game: look at soemthign really amazing and start making up bad stuff abotu it; then iwould analyze what has come outof my subconscious, instead of feeling scared by myself becaus ei obviouslly am being a terrible person; aggression is nromal and whence we get to terms with it and the thought patterns behind that emotion, it is much easier to overcome and swallow.

self-help is taking full rwponsibility for one’s self; especially the bad patterns and programming within; but releasing them to realize it wasn’t you whothinks that the whole time, it is soemthign deeply embedded; and even if you hve soem grudges really abotu stuff inthis world and hate them,etc, you can coemto peace with why you experiene negtuive emotions towards them,a nd in time, if you wish, you can even overcoem that; btu the truth is boundaries are formed because of real triggers i the external reality, not because we just , for example, out of nowhere dcise we hate people touching us on the bus and we start crrying a knife with us; it is likely taht we have been sexually abused in order to become so senitive about that,a nd our reaction has actual grounds; so don’t beat yourselves up for any negative reaction to living youmight have currently;some of them re truly healthy.

*essentially, i hte end, your logical mind will be exhausted and decide it is ridiculous to hate that, or to efar it - the kitten, fro exmple; just look at it! obviouslly it isn’t scary and harmful, and appalling, and a detriment to the world; it is barely alive t this point..... -_- so you come to peace with teh erstlessness within; ngative programmign or darmk magic is just that - subconscious restlessness that keeps you away from peace, and is capable fo eladig to overweight, diabetes, cutting, alcoholism, ro any otehr harmful way ofexperiencing your reality