#id be willing to check it out | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cripplecharacters · 1 month ago

Text

Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters

[Plain Text: Writing Profoundly Intellectually Disabled Characters]

While there is a glaring lack of intellectually disabled characters - except maybe big, physically strong, white men who can’t “tell right from wrong” or have a personality - in all sorts of media, specifically profoundly intellectually disabled characters are next to non-existent, with the existing ones being used more often as plot devices rather than portrayed as human beings.

This does make a degree (and not more) of sense considering that 85% of ID people have it mild, 10% moderate, 3.5% severe and only 1.5% has profound ID, the larger group inevitably gets more representation (which doesn’t make it good, but it does exist). However, it hopefully doesn’t need explaining that minorities deserve to be represented too (...and represented well), so this is what this post will be about.

Please don’t treat this as your only source on writing a character like this (even though I’m willing to bet it’s the only one like this, at least on tumblr), do your research and always check other sources.

Also, for clarity: intellectual disability isn't an umberalla term for "mental/brain disability". It's a specific, singular diagnosis that used to be known as "mental [r slur]". It's not the same as brain damage, autism, dementia, dyslexia, and anything else that's not specifically "intellectual disability". It's something that you are either born with or acquire early in life.

How do I Include Them in the Story?

[Plain Text: How do I include them in the story?]

A profoundly ID person will spend the majority of their time either at home or in some sort of care facility since they will require 24/7 help. The easiest role to put them in is probably a family member of another character. I've mentioned on this blog before that the "ID characters always end up as the annoying younger sibling" thing is overdone, but none of these necessarily have to be true for this suggestion to work (especially not the "annoying" part).

A non-ID character could have an intellectually disabled older sibling, twin, cousin, uncle/aunt, the sibling of a grandparent, etc. Seriously - a severely disabled person can be an adult, or even an elder. Just not as a parent, since a profoundly disabled person can't consent (a lot of ID people very much can, but this is the one disability where your level of functioning is baked into the exact diagnosis - profound ID comes with the inability to consent/understand the consequences enough to consent).

"They're a family member" is basically the easiest "excuse" to include a profoundly intellectually disabled in a story (and, as a bonus, you don't have to figure out how the other character would react to meeting them for the first time, since they probably knew each other for a long time already).

If your story isn't about the profoundly disabled character and instead just features them as a character, it would be much easier to not make the other character their primary caregiver. It's simply a ton of work and the character wouldn't have time for fighting dragons and whatnot - it'd be easier to have the abled character spend time with the disabled character at home (or care facility; you can very much visit someone in one) hanging out rather than actually doing the caregiving part.

Outside of a home and a care facility, there are also day care programs that some people might attend. This is the rarest solution out of the three mainly because of financial reasons, but also these resources aren’t as common for people who can’t walk, learn self-care, etc. Going to one takes time (the profoundly disabled person isn’t gonna walk there by themselves) and probably requires a specialized van (that you can bring a wheelchair in, which is incredibly expensive). Most day care programs are focused on people who are moderately or severely ID at most. One made for profoundly ID people would require 1:1 aides, which generally means the programs are much smaller for logistical reasons, but also even more expensive. For most people, too expensive without funding. Basically, this is an option, but you have to consider your character’s financial situation and/or what kind of financial support do disabled people get where they live.

Another way is having the disabled character in some sort of high position - in real life there were quite a few cases of profoundly and severely intellectually disabled royalty. Depending on the place and time there might have been pressure to not let the public see them, but this wasn't always the case. The biggest example of the latter was probably Emperor An of Jin (the first Jin, Eastern one) who was, as his title suggests, crowned at some point. He didn’t actually rule (his uncle did) but yes, you can have a severely disabled person as the head of a monarchy, it’s not without precedent.

In fiction you can do whatever you want anyway when it comes to ableism, you can have it be there, or you can have it not be there - and if it does exist then there are still different kinds of ableism you can portray that aren't the "literally killing-the-disabled-baby/hiding-them-in-some-dungeon level of eugenics" kind. Maybe a rich family who cares about their image would actually be unable to shut up about their kid to show how "saint-like" they are for caring for the disabled - it is unfortunately realistic, and can be a potential way to have the character exist in public, not ignore ableism, and also not go the aforementioned literally-just-murder route that writers usually do to show an ableist family.

Characterization

[Plain Text: Characterization]

Warning; the bar here is somewhere in the Earth's inner core. If your character has a single characteristic beyond aggressive/loud/unmanageable*, they're automatically at the top of most complex fictional representation of severely/profoundly ID characters. Congrats.

* - Some people are those things but, unsurprisingly, they're other things too. A lot of profoundly ID people can actually be completely quiet - you notice people who are loud because they're loud.

As with literally every character, you need to figure out what they like and not like. This can be quite literally anything, but try to think of the basic stuff. Do they have something they really enjoy eating (and conversely - something they refuse to eat)? Do they have some sort of comfort toy or object they don't want anyone touching (and maybe showing them playing with it with a different character could be a way to show how much they trust them)? In more modern settings, do they have a favorite show they always bug everyone to put on? Are they really clingy or do they hate physical contact (again, maybe they only enjoy it from a specific character)?

Another characterization could be comfort objects. A lot of profoundly ID people are autistic (which I'll touch on later) and will have an object that they bring everywhere the same way that non-ID autistic people might. There's nothing really specific here, just another layer of "this character is a Person". Maybe they have a blanket they really enjoy chewing because the texture feels good or some sort of plushie they like to throw around because it makes a sound they find funny. Lots of options. Maybe they have a personal “tell” to let others know they want their comfort object brought to them.

Keep in mind, you have to show this all in non-verbal manner. A profoundly ID person is probably not using any sort of AAC device (the most robust one I remember seeing right now was a low-tech one with "yes" and "no", but there are probably ones who operate on a larger amount of singular words). This is basically another opportunity for characterization - what do they do when they're happy - laugh, flap their arms, make sounds? - and when they're upset - scream, hit themselves, make different sounds? Obviously, you'd have to take other disabilities into account (e.g. many profoundly ID people won't move much, some might not be able to make much audible sound, etc.) but almost anything helps.

This brings us to…

Communication

[Plain Text: Communication]

An important thing (concept?) I'll throw here is "total communication", which can mean different things in different contexts, but here I'll use it to mean "using everything you can to communicate with someone who cannot do so in a ‘traditional’ way".

Communication can be categorized as having two sides; expressive and receptive. For most intellectually disabled people in general, receptive skills tend to be significantly higher than expressive ones, though there are specific disorders where it’s reversed or equal. As mentioned before, most profoundly ID people won’t speak orally, won’t use sign language, and won’t use AAC (though out of all three, AAC is the most likely one). Some might say single words, but that’s about it. It’s not a “physically mute but can write perfectly grammatically correct sentences” situation, it’s more of a “[single noun]” one, if anything. Receptive skills however are pretty decent (in comparison) and they would probably understand their name, the name/title of their carer(s), names of things they see every day, events they have some frame of reference to (e.g. if they grew up Christian, they would probably know what Christmas is), etc. Your other characters could (and should) talk to them like they can understand, even if they don’t catch everything or even most of it. I say a lot of “probably” there, but the people who can’t do so usually have other comorbidities, which I’ll mention later.

To go back to expressive communication, eye pointing can be used to figure out what the character wants. A change in breathing can be used to tell that a character got stressed. Throwing an object can be used as a hint that the character wants to play. Maybe them reaching towards person A means they want to eat, but reaching towards person B means they want them to sing a song for them. Maybe them making a particular face means they just had a seizure and need to be comforted. Whatever their "tells" like this might be, other characters who know them would probably be able to tell more-or-less what's going on - you don't have to go really in-depth, especially if it's a minor character, but figuring out the ways your character communicates with others will make it feel more like a person and not a Disabled Lamp (“if you can replace a disabled character with a lamp or a sick dog, they’re not a character”).

If you read some of these and go "that's a thing that a child would do" then you're not necessarily wrong. A profoundly ID adult might enjoy activities that primarily kids partake in. This is, I can't stress this enough, not the same as "mentally being a child". Otherwise, a whole bunch of adults on this very website would be "mental middle schoolers" based on the shows that they watch - but they're obviously not. A profoundly ID adult doesn't have the "mind of a baby" if their favorite game is throwing a toy, they have the mind of a profoundly intellectually disabled adult. Sometimes people assume that since ID people aren't mentally [incorrect age], they always "act their [actual] age" and essentially end up downplaying how much some people's ID affects them, when the point is that no matter what you do, you are your age. An ID character who is 26 years, incontinent, constantly puts their hand in their mouth, can't speak, whatever, is mentally 26 years old the same way that they would be if they had a wife and a mortgage.

For the last thing from this section I'll circle back to the assumption that all severely/profoundly ID people are loud, aggressive, etc. - as I said, some of them are (just like abled people). The thing is, this is not always an unreasonable response to being unable to communicate with the people who are caring for you. If you had a pressure sore but couldn't explain it to anyone you'd be pissed off and screaming too. That's an extreme example, but still applies. If someone is severely stressed out (for an abled person, this might be inheriting a ton of debt, for a profoundly ID person it can be a change in daily routine), they can lash out. It's an unpleasant but very much human reaction to have, even if what's behind the ID person's behavior is significantly different from what an average abled person might consider "a good reason".

So I guess my advice is, try to show some empathy to the character, even if they genuinely are loud and/or aggressive. Intellectually disabled people - including the profoundly disabled ones - aren't some alien species that is just mean and hates their caregivers for no reason, some just can't process their feelings the way an abled person might because of their disability. That's not to say that caregivers aren't allowed to feel frustrated - because they are - but that very severely disabled people aren't purposefully evil. As mentioned in the earlier parts, all behavior has a cause, just like for literally everyone. So if the character is being "unmanageable": maybe they aren't some cursed burden, maybe they're just stressed out of their mind and now someone they don't know that well is trying to do *something* to them, which they can't figure out because of their disability affecting their receptive language skills.

Resources and What to Keep in Mind

[Plain Text: Resources and What to Keep in Mind]

Some resources you might read about ID can be potentially misleading. Even if you specifically look for causes of the profound severity of intellectual disability, you will get results for mild ID. That's mainly because people with mild ID make up >85% of intellectually disabled people and those with profound ID make like 1%, so they're a minority in a minority.

Basically:

Down syndrome is a very unlikely cause. It's always listed as the main genetic cause of ID, but that's only true for mild and moderate severities. If you choose any of the common causes of ID make sure it actually has the symptoms you're looking for.

Most profoundly ID people will have either severe brain damage early in life (and this can come with cerebral palsy), cephalic disorders (e.g. microcephaly), genetic conditions that you've never heard of (e.g. Pallister-Killian or Emanuel syndromes, 3p deletion), genetic conditions that you've never heard of for a very understandable reason (e.g. X-linked intellectual disability-limb spasticity-retinal dystrophy-arginine vasopressin deficiency… there are hundreds named in this way), or just have it without a known cause. The last one happens much more often than people tend to assume.

For a reason I'll probably discover at some point, most disorders and syndromes that come with ID are said to have "autistic-like features" rather than being "comorbid with autism". In practice, it's the same thing. Your character is probably autistic.

In the same way, a lot of practical resources will assume that ID = moderate ID (since most mildly affected need no or minimal support, and severely/profoundly disabled ones are a small minority) so pay attention if you're looking at the right things. If it's talking about having a job, travelling alone, etc., then you got clickbaited.

Another subsection here will be comorbidities because there are a lot of them. I’ll mention the biggest ones.

Brain damage is the most common one (except autism) and can vary a lot. There is barely anything I can say about this one, it’s an enormous spectrum that for some people causes disability and for others barely affects their symptoms. Cerebral palsy, especially quadriplegic, is seen a lot and might affect the character’s mobility a lot. Some people might be unable to breathe or swallow and need a breathing or feeding tube.

Deafness and blindness are comorbid with a surprising amount of causes of ID. The thing is, you could take advice for deaf/blind characters as-in for a character that has both (e.g.) glaucoma and mild ID and not change much, but this doesn’t really work for a character who’s profoundly disabled like this. The situation that can happen here is that it’s not actually known if the person is or isn’t deaf or blind because they can’t tell you. As mentioned earlier, some people will have absent receptive communication skills. How do you verify if they’re deaf or just not reactive to language? Some people won’t react to even extremely loud sounds, even if they can hear them perfectly well (besides, a lot of deaf people can still hear some). Same for verifying if they are blind - obviously, sometimes there’s something visual going on, but often there isn’t. Especially since the main causes of both blindness and deafness will be brain-based, not ear- or eye-based. Another character not being sure if the disabled character is blind or just very uninterested in visual stimuli is a possibility, especially with less advanced medicine. This is also why you might see those weird statistics of "between 5-90% of people with [condition] are deaf" kind.

Mobility is almost always severely affected. Some are fully mobile, but that’s simply not common. The average person will be unable to walk independently. It’s not always a muscle or nerve problem (though it absolutely can be), it’s mostly an issue of coordination. Because of this (and understanding physical space), operating a wheelchair (...successfully) might be impossible. This doesn’t mean you should just drop your character in a hospital wheelchair for them to get wheeled around because they will probably need a wheelchair that will actually support them - a headrest, ability to tilt, a harness, all that. This could be done with a powerchair (they can have controls on the back for a second person to operate), a manual wheelchair, or an adaptive stroller.

Now for resources;

One good resource I can recommend is SBSK (which I shared before), to my knowledge this is the only place that interviews severely and profoundly ID people (+their families) and the interviewer is great at actually interacting with many of them.

Most resources on the practical things only ever talk about caregivers (who are very important) but completely ignore the actual person being cared for which IMO kinda defeats the point.

Good luck writing!

mod Sasza

#mod sasza #intellectual disability representation #writing resources #writing ideas #writing disabled characters #writeblr #writing advice

670 notes · View notes

keshi-gommu · 8 months ago

Text

I need you mother fuckers to give specifics.

Because Biden doesn't support universal health care, which is the healthcare reform people want. He does not support student loan cancelation, the student loan forgiveness that people want. Numbers 8 and 9, are damn near the same thing, numbers 12 and 13 are in direct contrast to each other, and numbers 4, 5, and 10 should also be just one point.

Like bro I get Biden is lesser of two evils. But notice how when you actually get to some real specifics here that it's not "just one thing" (that one thing being a *literal* genocide, btw). But stop pissing in my face and calling it rain.

Look.

I have made you a chart. A very simple chart.

People say "You have to draw the line somewhere, and Biden has crossed it-" and my response is "Trump has crossed way more lines than Biden".

These categories are based off of actual policy enacted by both of these men while they were in office.

If the ONLY LINE YOU CARE ABOUT is line 12, you have an incredible amount of privilege, AND YOU DO NOT CARE ABOUT PALESTINIANS. You obviously have nothing to fear from a Trump presidency, and you do not give a fuck if a ceasefire actually occurs. You are obviously fine if your queer, disabled, and marginalized loved ones are hurt. You clearly don't care about the status of American democracy, which Trump has openly stated he plans to destroy on day 1 he is in office.

#like you very clearly padded this list to be longer than it should #how is prescription drug reform and healthcare reform two different things #be so fucking forreal #“supports vaccines”#ok and trumps agency was the one who got the vaccine to us quickly #plus trump does tepidly support the vaccine last i checked #like dude #if Dems just said it like it was #which is that biden sucks #but there are a small handful of key differences #then id be willing to accept this #but yall are trying hard to smooth out bidens lies

103K notes · View notes

timeisacephalopod · 2 years ago

Text

(Content warning for eating disorder mention)

The most fucked up thing I've learned about recently, when I really sat down to think of it, is how fat people with eating disorders are treated. When a person is very thin and has the behaviors we associate with anorexia we would know that telling them they're too fat for treatment is just. Fucking evil, it's an evil thing to do to someone, but that's exactly what people with "atypical" anorexia face if they seek treatment and the atypical part in my understanding is just being larger than the BMI "regular" anorexia has to qualify for having the disorder.

Like instead of using the same fucking term we decided fat people with eating disorders were built wrong somehow and thus need a Special Term™️ rather than defining eating disorders around the behaviors associated with them, not the body type of those who suffer from them. Just thinking about the way even thinner people who aren't thin enough trying to get treatment and being told they're too healthy or too fat for it makes my blood boil with rage when we would never treat someone who's eating disorder shows up strongly on their frame this way because we'd immediately recognize how disgusting that is.

#winters ramblings #yall gotta check out the podcast maintenance phase and also aubry gordons books #but like the one ep they did they had a guest on whi had an ED at two different points in her life and the second time #she was not extremely thin. she got told when she sought treatment to look at herself and look at everyone else #and then the person asked WHY she was there. SHE ALREADY HAD AN ED. SHE KNEW WHAT SHE WAS EXPERIENCING #how FUCKING DISGUSTING do you have to be to tell someone who just told you they have an EATING DISORDER #to LOOK AROUND BC CLEARLY THEYRE TOO FUCKING FAT FOR TREATMENT. amd what of people who JUST got an ED??#ehat do they have to be on deaths door for you to give a shit?? fuck you thats horrific and cruel and a lot of other words i dont have #like thats just EVIL man. fuckin EVIL and im not much one for believing in evil the way we concenceptualize it #but like holy fucking SHIT how else do you look at something like that??!? why the FUCK would you EVER say #something like that so someone who is TELLING you theyre sick?? and you say NO YOURE NOT??#like the person MP had on had ALREADY been treated for an ED. she KNEW what was happening to her #and this ALLEGED professional reacted like that lioe fucking congrats on potentially making someone WAY SICKER #like i just cant get over that id have LOST IT on that fucking twit at the treatment center. the whole block would have been aware #of what i thought and wjere i wanted that person to go what to do whaen they get there and where to go after that too #like !!!! what the fuck!!!! like if youre willing to let sick people get SICKER just to prove their sickness to you before you treat them #you have NO BUSINESS being in the medial or mental health professions. acting like that you might as well be a cop #like yes i also know that several drs did this exact thing to me but with depression and thats why it hits a nerve #BUT I DONT THINK I NEED THAT SHITTY TREATMENT FROM DRS TO KNOW HOW FUCKED UP IT IS #TO TELL SOMEONE WITH AN ED THAT THEYRE TOO HEALTHY OR NOT THIN ENOUGH FOR TREATMENT #like are you TRYING to make them WORSE??!? how DARE you!!

1 note · View note

kingtomura · 11 months ago

Text

Cat and mouse

synopsis: Your ex boyfriend has some nerve texting you at three in the morning — an entire week after the disaster breakup you had. You should really go over there and give him a piece of your mind. Well, you know what they say about famous last words. wc: 6.1k | crossposted to ao3 content: tomura shigaraki x female reader, no quirks au, toxic tomura, reader is kinda toxic too tbh, unhealthy relationships, breaking up and making up, vaginal fingering, overstim, breeding kink, piv, dubcon creampie, degredation, threats of baby trapping, hurt/comfort, sweet at the end idc

You’ve told your friends time and time again to stay out of your business. They never listen.

“Oh my god, Kirishima? Is he even twenty yet?” You drag as you watch your friend flip through several pictures of the redheaded boy like he was a member of the bachelor.

She smiles, scrolling her phone for more options, “no, but he will be in a couple of months!”

“No!” Your words are sharp. You love Mina but god, you don’t want her to play matchmaker with you. It’s not like you’re a charity case or something.

She gasps and you swear you could see the lightbulb go off above her head. “What about Denki? He’s fun!”

You groan, falling back onto the bed and covering your eyes with your arm. “Mina.”

“Hey, just give her a break okay? It’s only been about a week.” Your saving grace Yaoyorozu speaks up and it’s nice to finally have someone on your side.

“Thank you.”

“Seriously? So we’re just going to sit around and watch you mope about all day?” Mina questions, irritation clear in her voice and it grates your ears.

“Preferably, yes! Just let me be.” You roll over, face officially shoved into your pillow. It’s been a rough couple of days and you haven’t gotten a single call or text from Tomura. Not that you should be expecting one. You broke up with him after all.

It’s just.. this time feels different. Usually there’s more arguing and he’s fighting for you to stay around, but this time there was nothing. No quips, no insults, just “fine, get out then.”

That hurt the most.

You had no idea what he was up to.

Maybe he was as depressed as you were.

Maybe he’s found someone else.

The thought makes you stop in your tracks. The idea of Tomura, your tomura with someone else is enough to make you nauseous.

You jump to your feet and rush to the bathroom, locking yourself in and falling to your knees.

God, what if that was why it was so easy?

You pull out your phone, the device lighting up and unlocking with your facial id.

Tomura doesn’t use social media much but you could still check to see if he’d blocked you.

To your surprise, he hadn’t.

He hasn't posted anything either and there’s no new person in his followers.

You feel yourself exhale a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. No change is a good thing.

There’s knocking on the door and you thank the stars you locked it. Your friends would judge you so hard if they saw you lurking through your ex’s social media.

“Hey, are you okay in there?” It’s your saving grace Yaoyorozu again and you almost feel bad for shutting her out.

“Yeah, I’m sorry if it feels like I pressured you! I’ll give you some space.” Mina's regretful voice calls and it makes your heart clench. You know she means well but she just doesn’t understand. None of them do.

Whether you want to admit it or not, you love Tomura.

Yes, you argue and yes, you fight, but he just gets you. He’s so cynical, but so caring — in his own special way. Too bad he was such an asshole. The argument wasn’t even supposed to go that far.

There are tears beginning to blur your vision and you wipe them away, willing the feelings down and standing to your feet.

If he wanted you to stay away, then fine. You could do that.

You splash cool water onto your face and take a breath, steeling yourself and getting ready to face your friend once more. It was Saturday and they were convinced you needed a fun girl’s night.

It takes a lot to refrain from cringing at the phrase, but you believe they held some truth with the idea. You definitely didn’t want to be alone right now.

You unlock the bathroom door, meeting Mina and Yaoyorozu’s worried expressions with a smile.

“We should probably get ready now, huh?”

Mina’s eyes light up, smile blinding and excitement contagious.

“Yes! Jirou and the others are here now.” She starts to clap, excitement buzzing around her, “Girl’s night is going to be amazing!”

—-

Girl’s night was a bust.

The moment everyone arrived the apartment quickly filled with chaos. Noisy and busy, it was all giving you a headache. Until someone decided it would be a good idea to pregame before going out.

In preparation for the night your friend’s insisted that you get dolled up, hair makeup and skimpy clothes you wouldn’t look twice at on any normal day.

You had to admit it made you a little more excited to get out and at least feel like your world isn't crashing around you. It was supposed to be a fun little night out. Somehow one drink turned into two, which turned into three which turned into Mina swearing she could beat everyone in a dance battle.

The group only got more riled up as everyone indulged in this silly challenge.

One challenge leads to another, which leads to more drinking, which then ends in everyone being too drunk to function and knocking out — all laid out in odd places around your living room floor and couch.

The groggy feeling came first, your arms radiating in dull pain as you vaguely recalled trying to beat Mina in a contest of who could do the most push ups. It sure as hell wasn't you, but the drunk version of you thought it was possible to move mountains.

You blink a few times, trying to will your eyes to rapidly adjust to the darkness of the room and find out what this odd buzzing noise beside you had been. Turning over, you find your phone, squinting as the too bright screen lights up your face and you see that it is three a.m.

You had fallen asleep with everyone else.

The phone buzzes again, lighting up and you have to squint further to read the contact name.

Tomura.

Your eyes widen as you scan over the three texts he’s sent you.

Wasting no time, you rush to your feet and into the bathroom so you can look at your phone without the chance of prying eyes overlooking your shoulder. Even though they were probably going to be out until late morning.

Tomura’s messages were short, no paragraphs, no essays but three different messages sent in succession.

When are you coming to get your shit?

I’m tired of waiting.

And I’m deleting our farm btw.

The first two messages don’t get much of a reaction from you, especially since it’s three a.m and he knows you’re usually asleep around this time.

But the third message…

Your Stardew Valley farm that you’ve had and worked on together for almost two years being put on the line and threatened? What the fuck was his problem?

This farm was a constant in your relationship. Throughout the ups and downs and back and forths. You were sure that hell would freeze over before you both would give up that progress. But here he is, threatening you while you would have been asleep. What an asshole.

Your feet are moving before your brain can stop them and you make your way to the front door. Since your friends were all passed out it would be easy to sneak over to Shigaraki’s place, give him a piece of your mind and then sneak back. In and out, quick and easy.

Your decision is made and you grab your coat, deciding to just go over there as you are. You hadn’t changed out of your outfit that was supposed to be for the night out, but it didn’t matter. You only needed to get over there and get there fast.

Once you arrive at Tomura’s doorstep you waste no time knocking. It’s around three in the morning so he should still very much be awake.

There's a chill in the air as you wait for his answer and you wrap your jacket closer to your body. A rumble of thunder caught your attention and it's then you notice the rain clouds rolling in. You knew it would only be a matter of time before the bottom of the sky falls out and rain drenches everything. You were on borrowed time if you wanted to make it back before then.

After what feels like forever the door finally opens, revealing a very cozy pajama-clad Tomura, who seemed a little too pleased for his own good — if that sly smile he was doing a bad job at hiding was anything to go by.

You don't give him a chance to greet you or say anything for that matter, stopping his words in their tracks as you cut him off. “What do you want?”

He doesn’t bother hiding his smirk now, the expression making your fists clench and your anger boil. “What do I want? You’re at my door, in front of my apartment.” He scoffs, clearly getting the exact reaction he had wanted from you, “I should be asking what do you want?”

Caught like a deer in headlights. Whatever, you don't let that stop you as you pull out your phone to show him his text. “You sent this, I know you’re bluffing. What do you want?”

Tomura shrugs, leaning against his door frame and giving you a pleased look. Expression relaxed and content. Not a care in the world. “To talk.”

“Well, I'm here now, so let’s talk.” You spit, crossing your arms and waiting for whatever else he would throw at you.

��Sure, but you should come in first.” He starts, looking up towards the darkened sky, confirming his assessment. “It’s gonna rain soon, you know.”

Of course you knew that.

You just didn’t want to give him more time than you had. But you agree and go in, ignoring the fighting feeling in the back of your mind screaming at you to turn away and hightail it out of there.

Tomura’s home is the exact way it was the day you left, give or take a few more containers of takeout littered around the place. You have half a mind to scold him about it, but quickly remember that it isn’t your place to do that anymore.

So instead you stay quiet, following him into the apartment and into the living room. Opting to stand as he sat, and resisted the urge to get comfortable.

“So, what do you want to talk about?” You try, done watching him pick up a controller and boot up a video game. Seriously?

Your patience was wearing thin now as you watched him ignore you to play some stupid game. You try calling to him again, knowing this was probably a waste of your time and groans.

“I was in the middle of something before you got here. Let me finish and we’ll talk.” It's flippant the way he waves you off and continues the game. The lack of care only hurting your feelings further and making you realize this may have all been a big mistake on your part.

You shouldn’t be at your ex boyfriend’s house being ignored. You should be at your house getting drunk and hanging out with your best friends. There was no reason to stay somewhere you’re obviously not valued.

It’s a simple choice when you put it into perspective.

But things are always easier said than done.

You sigh, the air puffing out your cheeks, a bad habit you had when angry, and walk right in front of Tomura’s TV. There was more satisfaction in making him lose the game and then announcing your departure than just leaving quietly.

He cranes his neck to see around you, but it doesn’t work, finally giving up as his character inevitably dies. “What!?”

“I’m leaving!” You announced, turning on your heel and heading towards the front door.

“You had to make me lose first? I said I was almost done!” He spat back, rising from the couch to follow you.

You shrug, “I don’t care. Why invite me in if you’re just going to ignore me?”

“Didn’t think you had the patience of a child.'' Tomura stands in front of you, cutting through your path and stopping you in your tracks.

It's almost comical the way he insults you. “Okay pot, meet kettle.” You try to brush past him, but he side steps with you.

“What are you dressed like that for anyway? Did you go out tonight or something?”

“No!” You deny, a little louder than intended and then pause. “But it’s none of your business what I do anyway.”

Tomura hums at this, taking the words in and running them through his mind as he gives you a once over, eyes scanning from the too-tight shirt you wore — showing a generous amount of cleavage, down to your mini skirt that left little to the imagination.

“Could've fooled me.”

“What do you mean by that?” You hate when he gives you cryptic answers, like it’s impossible to pry into his mind to see what he was thinking at the moment.

“You knew you were coming to see me so I dont get why you're wearing that skimpy shit. Unless you wanted me to check you out.”

“Not everything is about you, Tomura. Maybe I just wanted to dress up and look nice.”

“Bullshit—”

“God, Tomura you always fucking do this!” You yell, walking right up into his face. The excitement in his scarlet eyes sends a chill up your spin, but you can’t back down.

He gets closer, matching your tone and you can still see the grin he’s trying to hide. It makes you see red. “Do what? Tell you the truth? You know I’m not wrong.”

“Yeah, you think you know everything, but you don’t. I’m dressed up because I want to be, not because of you.” You’re insisting at this point, frustration threatening to tip over and spill out into the form of another pointless argument. Why did you think you could actually come over and have a decent conversation with him?

Tomura is a master at getting under your skin and hitting where it hurts. In all of your arguments he’s never really pulled out the big shots but you wouldn’t put it past him to do so now.

“Oh, so you come over to my place dressed like a slut and you expect me to believe you don’t have some hidden motive?”

And there it is.

Your last straw. He could be so egotistical and mean — you’ve had it.

You regret it the moment you do it, but your body moves before your brain can process your actions. You push Tomura. Hard.

He doesn’t fall back far but you know it’s enough to piss him off. And he’s never been one to hold anything back, so he shoves you back and your back hits the wall.

Tomura has you pinned before you know it and there’s a thrill that runs through your body in a way you know you shouldn’t be feeling. Your knees feel weak for reasons that are not related to fear and your panties were gradually becoming more wet.

His voice is low and his eyes are narrowed as he pins you against the wall, pressing your cheeks together with his other hand. “You’re really starting to piss me off.”

You have to bite back a smile, knowing this has taken a turn and you aren’t strong enough to stop where it’s going. Not that you would want to.

“Oh yeah? If I piss you off so badly then why are you hard?”

He doesn’t look down. He can feel his own arousal just as well as you can while it’s pressed against your abdomen.

Tomura pushes off of you — maintaining some distance as he turns away.

“You’re fucking annoying.”

“Sure am.” You supply, chipper and certain as you trail behind him.

He’s walking further into the apartment, and you follow. Legs moving on their own accord as you go further into the lion's den, exchanging quips and insults. You jab your finger into his shoulder, bothered by the way he continues to ignore you, it's a pathetic attempt at catching his attention and it works. Kind of.

The only response being him slapping your hand away with a glare and muttering a soft fuck off as he walked on.

You both went back and forth. Like the sun and moon, you just can’t stay away from each other.

It was how these things usually went between you and Tomura. He would start up, make a petty argument and you would never back down. Tomura is someone who was used to getting his way and others simply did what he said with no objections.

But that was not how you were.

And he loved it.

You knew by the way he would get that devious glimmer in his eye when you would challenge a point, starting up a debate. Sometimes they were heated enough to make you both break up. It never lasted more than a few days. A week being the longest.

Push and pull.

Tomura made his way past you again, ignoring your calls about how you hate being ignored. At this point you’re sure he’s doing it on purpose to rile you up more but you can’t help but take the bait. You grab his shoulder, forcing him to turn around and face you as you point a finger in his face.

“Stop walking away from me!”

He grabs your wrist and pulls you closer, making you stumble on your feet and almost lose balance. You were so close you could feel the heat from his body and smell the fresh linen scent of his shirt. “Don’t tell me what to do.”

You snatch your wrist away from him, tension between you two growing hotter by the second as the space between you got thinner.

“What are you going to do about it?”

The narrowing of his eyes only made your grin grow wider as you watched the gears turn in his head as he thought about just how many things he would do about it. All of it enticed you, so you beat him to the punch.

You reach forward again, fully intending to shove his shoulder again for another reaction, another glare, maybe even more words, but he stops you. It was fast, the way you both tumbled through the hallway as Tomura crashed his lips to yours. The relief of finally feeling his lips again meshed with the excitement of how rough he was with you.

You lose yourself in the kiss, welcoming him in with open arms as you vaguely register the dark walls of his room and posters plastered along the walls in your scuffle.

It was exciting, probably the best part of breaking up and making up. At this point you think the whole point of falling apart is coming back together again. An endless cycle where the reward is worth the punishment.

Cat and mouse.

You end up on top of him, straddling his hips while your smug smile beams down at him. Tomura gives you an unamused look in return, yet the way his hands rested on your thighs gave away the ill hidden interest. It was all the encouragement you needed as you leaned down, hovering above him with both hands on his chest.

“Not so tough now, are you?”

It’s bait. You know it’s bait, he knows it’s bait, but he takes it anyway — the way you knew he would.

Tomura wastes no time flipping the both of you over, quickly reversing your positions as he settled himself between your legs. It’s dangerous the way his actions riled you up further, and you have to bite your lip to keep the smile from betraying your false anger. You couldn’t let him know how excited you were to be back in his bed.

He presses your cheeks together and rocks your head left to right, tone mocking and eyes wild with fever, “Oh, look who’s become a firecracker all of the sudden. Where did that flame come from, huh?”

You want to respond, but Tomura beats you to it, releasing your cheeks and pointing a nimble finger against your forehead, “Don’t be dumb.”

His eyes trail from yours and then down to your lips, then finally down to your exposed cleavage. The movement was swift as he cupped one of your breasts in his hand and dipped down, claiming your lips again. It was softer than the first time but not by much, especially not when he matched his pace by grinding his clothed erection into you, making you moan at the contact.

Your skirt was so short and it made you feel even more exposed than you already were. Tomura had easy access to you and the thin fabric of your panties made everything feel so much closer.

You moan at the contact, swiping your tongue against Tomura’s bottom lip and wasting no time deepening the kiss as you pull him closer. You needed more and you needed it as soon as possible.

Tomura pulled the low cut front of your shirt down, easily exposing your breasts from the confines of the shirt and massaged them, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your nipples and making you cry out from the sensitivity.

He pulls away from you, eyes gazing into yours and you swore in that moment he put you in a trance. Tomura’s ruby red gaze always left you mesmerized and you can’t help the whimper that leaves your lips, brows furrowed and eyes wanting, “Please.”

“Please what?” And he’s not taunting you, he’s not mocking you. His eyes are soft as he brings a hand to your cheek. “Tell me what you want.”

“You.” Fuck, you’ve missed him. “I just want you.”

There’s a hint of a smile on his face as he strokes your cheek, soft look in his eyes making your heart flutter, and then it’s gone. Replaced by a hardened gaze as he moves to remove your shirt and bra, fully exposing you to his hungry eyes, and then moves to remove your short skirt.

His hands hover there for a moment, debating whether or not he should keep it on and fuck you in it, but then decides against the idea and pulls it off, taking your soaked panties down with it as well.

The air in the room feels cool against your skin as you shiver in anticipation.

“Fuck,” Tomura whispers, now eye level with your cunt. You gasp as he runs two fingers between your wet folds and holds the digits up to show you. Syrupy clear slick clung to them, slowly trailing down as Tomura rose back up, eye level with you once more.

“You’re so wet…” He murmured, bringing the digits to your mouth and you opened, taking them into your mouth and tasting yourself. You kept eye contact as you watched his eyes widen in delight — Tomura loved it when you put on a show for him.

There’s another moment of Tomura pressing against your tongue with his fingers and then he pulls them out, opting for a kiss in exchange, his tongue dipping into your mouth and groaning as he could taste what’s left of your slick on you as well.

The pleasant feeling and linguid action of your movements made your shoulders relax as you practically melted into his soft bed, the feeling of his body above yours bringing you mountains of comfort. It was a distraction, of course.

You felt the same two of Tomura’s fingers prod at your slick entrance before pressing in fully and all the way down to the knuckle. The stretch was intense but the pressure was euphoric, making you squeeze your eyes shut and grip him closer.

He didn’t make you wait long as he pumped his fingers, quickly finding that sensitive spot so deep inside of you that only he could pinpoint and brushing against it over and over.

The feeling was so good it made you pull away from the kiss to breathe, thighs twitching and toes curling in pleasure. You wouldn’t last long like this.

“Tomura, fuck..!” You moaned, drowning in ecstasy as he continued his abuse of your spot, never letting up or slowing down, aiming to make you cum as quickly as he could. It was obvious he wanted you to come undone as soon as possible by the way he watched your every expression.

The way your brows furrowed to the way you bit your lip. Tomura eagerly drank every expression and gave it back to you in the form of pleasure.

“What?” He started, unphased by your dilemma, “Gonna cum?”

It took a lot of focus and effort, but you nod — done with fighting for the night and accepting the fact that you will come apart quickly. So you give in to the pleasure.

Tomura smiles, a devious grin splitting his features as he curls his fingers, hitting the spot one more time for good measure and you lose composure, your climax crashing into you like a tidal wave. There was nothing you could do besides ride the feeling while holding on to Tomura tight — like you would get swept away if you didn’t.

He fucks you through it with his fingers, eyes never leaving your face as you come down from your high.

“Pent up, huh?” He questions, and this time there is that little hint of teasing. It brings you back to reality.

Yes, you have been pent up. You haven’t been able to get off to anything since you’ve broken up and it’s been hell.

You have no time for the games, you just want him and you want him now.

So, you take Tomura’s face in your hands, making him look you in the eyes. The flecks of black in his carmine eyes always makes you remember why you come back. Every single time.

“Fuck me, please, Tomura.” It's soft and filled with desire that you cannot be bothered to hide, and Tomura has never been one to deny you.

He quickly discards his own clothes, making sure to not stay away from you for long. His cock is hard and leaking precum from the head as he strokes it in preparation. You feel giddy at the thought and watch as he slides the head of his cock between your folds, coating it with your slick, and rubbing against your clit. The action makes your hips twitch up towards him.

He loves to tease and make you wait, but today he doesn’t make you wait long. Tomura leans down after lining himself up with your entrance and places his free hand behind your head, right above the nape of your neck. His hands were warm and the feeling of those hands cradling your head felt so comforting in the space of his familiar dark bedroom.

You bring a hand to his hair, tangling your fingers in his ashen locks as he pushes forward. The stretch makes you whimper and Tomura captures your lips in a kiss again, swallowing the noises and releasing a groan of his own as your walls tighten around his cock.

There's something about the way Tomura drags his hips, the way he starts off at a slow pace, winding you up as he steadily increases his speed and force. It happens so gradually that you don't realize you’re screaming his name until he tells you to shut up — threatening to cover your mouth because he didn't want his neighbors to hear how much of a slut you were.

It drove you mad the way he said it all with a smile and fucked you harder. Almost daring you to be louder so he can punish you with a hand over your mouth.

Tomura knew how rough you liked it and he always delivered, giving you back arching pleasure as he pounded into you. It leaves you gasping and struggling to keep your voice down. Your hands find the surface of his back, trying to hold on as much as you could with building pleasure on the horizon.

“Tomu— Tomura..! Please,” you cry and he doesn’t miss a beat, driving his cock so deep against your sweet spot it makes you see stars. “Fuck..!”

“Yeah, that’s it.” Tomura cooed, eyes filled with mischief as he brought you closer to the edge. “Cry for me.”

And you do, your body feeling euphoric as the feeling buzzed up your spine and filled your brain with the fuzz of ecstasy.

“What are you gonna do, huh?” He starts, his hips grinding against you, the closeness of his pelvis rubs against your clit, making you cry out again, “What are you gonna do when I breed this pretty cunt and make sure you’re stuck with me forever?”

He’s bluffing, you know Tomura doesn’t want kids. He’s just trying to gauge your reaction. Your dedication.

“Tomura…” You only moan, breath catching as he hits that spot inside you that he knows so well.

Tomura is smiling, wild and devious, as you look up at him with glossy eyes, so close to crying from the feelings, “I’m gonna do it. I’ll make you mine forever and you can’t do anything about it.”

“Ah!” You should stop him, tell him to calm down but he has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your back arching off of the bed. Everything is blurring together and you can only slur words as the drool from your earlier kiss trails down your cheek.

You are completely at his mercy like this and you know your friends would be beyond disappointed.

It just feels so good the way his cock drags in and out of your body pulling moans and whines from your throat. He was relentless in the way he pounded into you — beyond the point of being soft and slow because he knows that’s exactly you like it.

“Say you want it.” The command comes with the slowing of his hips and you whine, high and needy as Tomura slows to a near stop.

“Tomura, I—“

“Say you want it or I swear to god I’ll stop right now.” It’s a threat and you don’t want to find out if he’ll go through with it. Tomura never goes back on his word.

“No, please, don’t— I want it!” you pant, frustrated and aching for more movement.

“I want you to,” you stammer, desperate to have your release. “I don’t care if you cum in me. I need you so bad.”

“That’s my girl,” He coos, dipping his head down onto your shoulder, “Fuck.. love you s’much”

You stop — you’ve never heard him say that. Ever. You doubted he would ever say it since it’s been so long.

He doesn’t give you a chance to ruminate on it because he's picking up the pace again and giving you the friction you were so deeply in need of. The feelings are swimming in your head as your cries reach new heights. Tomura is too far gone to stop you or care and you’re thankful. You couldn’t stop yourself if you tried.

The build of your orgasm crashes down and sends you with it, making your thighs quiver in pleasure and your eyes squeeze shut. Tomura’s mouth meets yours before you could cry out, the warmth of his tongue guiding you as he fucked you through it.

He didn’t last long after, the way your walls tightened around him with the force of your orgasm has Tomura’s pace erratic as he chased his own high.

The bed shook as Tomura finally finished, hips stuttered as he released inside of you, hot seed coating your insides and making heat rise to your cheeks. He really did it.

You watch as he slows to a stop above you, his eyes closed as he enjoys the feeling of release. Tomura’s breathing was heavy and you couldn’t stop yourself from bringing him down into another kiss, traveling from his lips to his cheeks and then back again.

It was intimate and you were worried it may have been too much, given the reason you were both in this situation was because of a stupid breakup.

Tomura’s pulls out of you, making you wince and taking the feeling of being so full away from you. He doesn’t go far, opting to stay on top of you and rest his head on your shoulder, wanting to keep you as close as possible.

“You really piss me off.” He mumbles into your shoulder, out of breath and tired. “God, why can’t you just stay with me.”

“Tomura…” Your hands run through his hair, the sweat is making it stick to his forehead as you wait for him to keep talking.

“Stop leaving me.” His voice is firm, unwavering.

“You told me to go.”

“I didn’t think you fucking would. I would never actually want you to.”

“I can’t read between the lines Tomura, I’m not in your head.” You make him look at you this time, pulling his hair a little to get him to raise his head. “Did you mean it?”

“I just said I didn’t—“

“No, the other thing you said.” He gives you a look of pure confusion and you lose a little bit of hope, “when you said you loved me?”

You stare into his carmine eyes, hoping, praying it wasn’t just pillow talk from the heat of the moment.

He looks at you for a long time, frustration still wearing on his features. If you didn’t know any better you would say he was pouting. “Of course I meant it. I’ve always felt like that.”

“But you’ve never said it!”

“I show it!”

“How?” This is getting frustrating and going in circles.

He groans, sitting up and taking his warmth with him. “I’m not going to sit here and list everything I’ve ever done for you. I don’t think it works like that.”

You open your mouth to counter, irritation on your tongue because that’s not what you meant, but Tomura stops you again.

“I don’t know how to explain it, okay?” He shakes his head and sighs, laying next to you on the bed and looking up at his ceiling. “It’s weird. I have these strong feelings, but it’s not hate, it's not anger. It's the opposite of that.”

You stare at him as he focuses ahead, keeping his eyes trained on the uninteresting ceiling above.

“Father said it’s a weakness and I should feel that way but,” There’s a pause as he looks away from the ceiling, meeting your eyes finally, “if it’s so weak of me, then why are the feelings so strong?”

Your heart aches. It's clear that he’s torn, and with the strange way he was raised you know that he can’t help the way he is.

“Tomura…”

“And it won’t go away. I can’t fight them down or push them away like I can with everything else. It eats me up and I… guess I lash out because of it.” He shakes his head and for the first time Tomura looks defeated. You’ve never seen him this way — he’s always been filled with confidence and self assured. “I just don’t know what to do.”

You bring a hand to his cheek as you press your forehead against his. It kills you that this is what’s been on his mind and you aren’t sure what you could do to fix it. Maybe there was nothing you could do, physically, but you would do your best to be there for him emotionally.

“Sometimes,” you try to be careful with your words, knowing how much Tomura looks up to his foster father even though the man has been nothing but strange to him. “People say things that aren’t true because they don’t know how to live with it.”

Tomura’s guardian cannot live with love nor the idea of it.

“That doesn't mean you have to live that way.”

And it’s the truth.

Tomura doesn’t say anything, just watches you with heavy lidded eyes, ruby red nearly glowing in the low light of the room. He was so much more than what people thought they knew of him and you didn’t care if it took time for others to see that.

He leans in, closing his eyes and you meet him halfway into a kiss.

It's warm and it's soft and you know that even when your phone is buzzing from dozens of missed calls and texts from your friends, it will be fine.

You and Tomura would take things one day at a time.

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki tomura #shigaraki tomura x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura x reader #mha x reader #my works #tomura shigaraki smut #shigaraki smut #shigaraki tomura smut #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you

3K notes · View notes

fearcvlt · 1 month ago

Text

❝disdain❞

pairing. rafe cameron x fem!reader note. hi hi !! um... this isn't the greatest probably?? trying to work myself out of a really bad case of writer's block rn. this fic has literally no reprieve at all, so don't go into it expecting literally anything good to happen. sorry :/ any feedback is appreciated !! tags. nsfw, mdni. stalking. obsessive behaviour. unhinged!rafe. rape/non-con. no use of y/n. p in v. creampie. gagging. no prep. no resolution :/ 2.9k words.

Rafe has never had a good handle on his self-control.

His restraint is barely hanging on by a thread when it comes to you, a pretty little thing he stumbled across at the Country Club. He finds it a little irritating, how you don’t seem to fall at his feet as easily as other girls do. Like, ouch? He’s even been nicer than he usually is to you, all sweet and gentlemanly and so not Rafe-like.

And he’s been behaving recently, alright? Hasn’t beaten up any of your little Pogue friends in a good while — if only to avoid the way you’d look at him for days after. He doesn’t really understand why you’re so hung up on those losers, but he’s willing to take a step back (or get better at hiding the bruising on his knuckles after a fight. He’s not picky).

Doesn’t he at least deserve a little kiss for all his trouble?

The point is, Rafe has tried the right approach. Asked you out with his best charming smile, dressed up all nice and shit. You’d rejected him. Him. He doesn’t know what about it got him so worked up, but he’d been keeping an eye on you almost obsessively since then.

He’s not a stalker or anything. It’s not weird if he follows you as you slip out of a party, or if he checks up on you through your windows late at night. He was in the area — it comes from a place of friendly concern, and he’d swear that ‘til his dying breath. He’s not a good guy, but he can be if it’s for you.

But he fucked up a little bit one night, and he’s noticed you acting all skittish recently. It wasn’t his fault, honest. He’d had a little too much to drink, and enough coke that it fucked with his head. He got a little trigger happy, might’ve called your phone on no caller ID. Or, well, FaceTime is more accurate.

Didn’t have his face in frame, though. Just his fist pumping his dick, flushed and leaking for you as he panted into the phone speaker. Not enough to give away it was him, he hoped. Not that you stayed on the line for more than three seconds, anyways. Seeing your little sleepy face was enough to have him making a mess of his screen only moments later, so it was fine by him.

Rafe wants to have a talk with you about leaving that window of yours cracked. It’s summer, it gets hot. He gets it. But it really was too easy for him to get into your bedroom to steal a few things for himself. Panties, a half-used bottom of perfume, maybe a sweater or two. He’s building up quite a collection, you know. He’d like to think you’d be honoured if you knew how down bad he was for you.

He’s gotta figure something out. He’s pretty sure he’ll be able to charm you into getting with him — then he doesn’t even have to worry about you finding out he was the one that’d been watching you this whole time. Win-win.

Shame shit never seems to go right for him.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Rafe’s a little surprised when you show up to his party. You haven’t been around at the last few, but you chose to come to his. His chest puffs out a little with pride, his mind suddenly focused on you rather than whatever bullshit Kelce and Topper are spewing this time.

He’ll have a couple of drinks before he approaches, he reasons. Get himself a little more loose and confident, give you a chance to settle. He can be a patient man when he wants to be, and he’s got a whole lotta time when it comes to you.

It can’t be that long that he takes his eyes off of you — fifteen minutes at most? Yet, as his gaze flicks over the crowd, he’s instantly livid. You and some shithead are trying to make your way upstairs. That can only mean one thing, and Rafe isn’t fucking stupid.

He peels away from his friends, following after you immediately. He climbs the steps two at a time, pushing open the door until he finds you.

Nothing’s happening when he gets there, thank god — Rafe isn’t sure he’d be able to keep his hands off of the guy if he was. He looks at him, jaw tensing. “Get the fuck outta my room.”

At least the dude isn’t stupid, because he’s ducking out a moment later. Rafe’s satisfaction doesn’t last long when he notices your uncharacteristic quietness. He follows your line of sight, frowning as he realises it’s on your missing perfume. Ah, shit.

“What? Think a girl left it here one time.” He scoffs, swallowing as he notices the look on your face. He’s normally good at lying, but he feels pretty damn tongue-tied right about now. “I look like the kinda guy to use that shit?”

When your eyes flick to his sheets, he grows even more nervous. He has plausible deniability for the perfume, sure, but you’re looking at the sheets like you recognise them (that little video call is really coming back to bite him in the ass) and he isn’t sure what to do.

“Hello? Anyone home?” Humour’s about all he’s got right now, so he waves a hand in front of your face. Hoping it’s enough to make him seem like he ain’t got a clue what’s going on in your pretty little head right about now. Good thing your panties are securely hidden away in his top drawer. You definitely wouldn’t be happy about that development.

“It’s you.”

His heart sinks a little at those two words, his mind going into overdrive as he tries to think about how he should react to that statement. Honesty is absolutely a fucking no-go, especially with that expression starting to twist your face.

“Yeah? You’re in my room. What’re you getting at here?” He’s hoping acting dumb will work. It’s about the only thing he can think of doing at this moment. “Shit, princess. Think you need to slow down on the drinking.”

He takes a few steps towards you, brows furrowing at the expression on your face. His hands drop to your hips, keeping you close. The feeling of your warmth is enough to have him barely suppressing a shudder. “You’re being stupid, c’mon. I’ll take you home so you can have a lie down—”

“No. Are you fucking insane? Do you honestly think I’m that stupid? God, I knew I recognised your voice in that call.” You reply, shoving him away with every intention of getting the fuck out of there as soon as possible.

The second you shove him, Rafe’s jaw tenses before he’s pulling you against him. He’s far stronger than you and he has no problem using that against you. At your words, his eyes narrow, lips drawing downward into a scowl.

“You’re mine,” he hisses at you, grip tightening. “I like to have things that prove it. I’m not sick, you’re just ungrateful.”

“You spend all your time hanging around those fucking Pogues, as if they deserve your time more than us. More than me.” He sneers, voice cold. “But you never give me the time of day. It’s not my fault if I had to start keeping a closer eye on you, make sure you’re not mixing with the wrong crowd. That’s on you, princess.”

He presses you firmly against the wall, his jaw set tight. “Should’ve just said yes to me when I first asked you out. Maybe then things would be different.”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach, eyes wide as you meet his gaze. Any confidence you had had confronting him before quickly simmers away into nothing. “Rafe… I’m sorry. Just let me go and I’ll forget this, alright? Promise.”

“Ah, baby. You’re hurting my feelings with that kinda talk. I don’t want you to forget about this…” One of his hands slips away from your hip and grabs a handful of your hair, tugging at it lightly as if to emphasise his point. “You don’t know me. You don’t know anything about me. You — us. I’m gonna be good to you. I’m gonna keep you.”

“You… You’re sick. A freak.” You hiss, wincing as he yanks your head back, his fingers grasping your hair tighter. He’s starting to get really sick of you talking to him like that.

At your wince, he only grins, the manic edge of his expression cutting into his features. “You’re gonna like me, baby. I’m not the sick one, no… You’ve just got the wrong impression, princess. That’s all. I’ll show you how good this’ll be for you, you’ll understand. I know you will.”

You shake your head quickly, tears brimming in your eyes. He makes a small, amused sound at the sight of them, leaning down to press his lips to one of the droplets as it begins to slide down your cheek.

“Oh, my poor little thing,” he coos at you, expression almost sickeningly gentle. Rafe’s hand moves from your hair, gently cupping your cheek. “Poor baby… Course you’re my girl. You always have been. I waited for you — I’m being so good to you, and all you’re doing is calling me a freak.”

He pauses, brushing his nose against your hairline and inhaling deeply. “I forgive you, princess, don’t worry. I love you so much, you know. I know how to be patient.”

You feel sick, bile rising up in your throat so rapidly that it hurts when you force yourself to swallow it down. His hands slide up and down your body, mapping out the shape of you and squeezing at your flesh. You open your mouth to protest, but all you can manage is a strangled whimper as he starts to tug at the fabric of your top, pulling back just enough to look down at the skin that he's exposing.

Your shirt is bunched up above your tits now, and his hands are coming up to grope at them through the thin fabric of your bra. He leans down until his lips brush against your ear, breath hot and carrying the scent of alcohol as he speaks. “You wear this for me, baby?”

His thumb rolls over your nipple under the fabric now, and the tears start to fall more rapidly, hot and heavy as they roll down your cheeks. There are people downstairs, you know that. Probably a few upstairs, too, that have snuck away to have fun. You could scream — someone would have to hear over the music, right? And then they’d come to help, and you could get the hell away and hopefully never see Rafe Cameron again.

Except as your lips part, three fingers force their way down your throat harshly, muffling any attempts to gain attention you had in mind. He isn’t gentle about it, the roughness of his fingers jarring your throat and making you gag. Nails scrape against the sensitive flesh as you choke and splutter around the digits, drooling obscenely from the corners of your mouth.

“Cute, baby. I’ve been watching you, remember? I know you. Ain’t nothing in your pretty head you can think of doing that I haven’t thought of first.” Rafe walks forwards until the back of your knees hit the edge of his bed. You try your best to stay upright, but all it takes is a little push from him to get you to buckle and fall back against the mattress.

He’s on you in an instant. His hands are everywhere all at once, pulling on your clothes, exploring your skin. You squeeze your eyes shut so you don’t have to watch it happen, your body going rigid as you attempt to block out his touch. Rafe doesn’t seem to care, just happy that he’s touching you at all. You feel a cold air brushing against you as he strips you down to nothing, knee pushing your legs further apart so that he can settle between them.

His body is heavy as he cages you in against the bed, bearing down on you while he unbuckles his pants and slips them down. He doesn’t bother with taking them off, sliding them down along with his boxers until he can free himself from the fabric. He pushes forward instantly, impatient, sliding into you with a string of mumbled curses. He doesn’t go slow or give you time to adjust — he thinks he’s waited long enough. And he deserves this. Deserves you.

“So good, so good… Fuck, baby, see? Don’t even need to stretch you out, you fit so perfect… Fucking… made for this.” He grunts, hot and heavy against your cheek. He noses into the flesh there, dragging wet trails across your face with the tip of his nose and he spreads your tears further, sniffing at you like a damn dog.

It burns. Your body is struggling to accommodate his size, but he’s pushing past the resistance. Rafe’s lips find yours as he starts to move, fucking into you desperately. He groans at the taste of you, slipping his tongue into your mouth. In a desperate attempt to get him away from you, you bite down on the offending muscle. It barely makes him pause. He laughs all breathlessly against your mouth, then he bites you harder. You make a pained sound in the back of your throat as his teeth sink into your lower lip hard enough to draw blood, his tongue darting out afterwards to lick away the mess.

You don’t have the courage to bite him this time as he slides his tongue into your mouth again, letting you taste your own blood. The tang of iron only makes it harder to shut this all out, to pretend it’s something else. Your cunt aches between your legs, even as it drools helplessly in an attempt to ease the intrusion. You only feel sicker at the thought that your body seems to be inviting this.

Rafe pulls back slightly, forearms resting either side of your head as he fucks into you more desperately. You’re practically folded in half — his hips smacking against the flesh of your ass with each thrust. “Fuck, you’re tight. Relax a bit, baby. Think you’re cutting off my circulation or some shit.”

He huffs out an easy laugh, like anything about this is funny. The simple fact of it is, he just doesn’t care. He only moves faster with each pained little gasp that leaves your mouth. There’s no gentle touches or movements. He doesn’t rub at your clit to at least attempt to make it into something that feels good for you.

Rafe Cameron takes. He takes and he takes what he wants until there’s nothing left of it, and no matter how deep his obsession for you runs, that’s all it is. An obsession. There is no love or tenderness in his actions, and there never will be. He’ll use you until he’s satisfied, then you’ll be tossed aside like every other toy he’s gotten bored of over the years. You know that, and he makes no attempt to hide the fact from you.

“Fuuuck, baby. Gonna make me cum. Y’want me to fill up this pretty little cunt?” He groans, forehead dropping against your own. His gaze meets yours as you shake your head weakly, but he just grins. “Yeah? ‘Course you do, baby. Good girl.”

He bites his lower lip, brows furrowing as he continues to rock into you. You can feel every drag of his cock along your walls, and you feel yourself begin to tremble as it starts to twitch inside of you. “Yeah, baby. Yeah, that’s it. Fuck, that’s it.”

He presses his hips flush to yours with a groan, hands fisting in the sheets beside your head as the tip of his cock presses painfully against your cervix. His length kicks with every hot spurt of cum that fills you up, but you’d long since lost the energy to fight it. You lie there limp and frozen as he finishes, whispered words of praise hot against your face.

When he’s done, he pulls away from you swiftly, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he tucks himself back into his trousers. He doesn’t even spare you a second glance as he rises up again, running a hand through his sweat-slick hair.

“Do me a favour, yeah? Stay here?” He asks, already getting ready to go back downstairs. “Wanna see you once the party dies out. You’ll do that for me, right?”

Rafe doesn’t wait for a response before he fixes up his shirt and makes his way towards the door. He doesn’t need to worry, not really. This isn’t the first time this has happened, and he knows your type. You don’t have the kind of resources it takes to get into a fight with the Camerons — even if you did say something, he’d only walk away with a slap on the wrist.

So he returns to his party with a sense of satisfaction that’s only amplified when he makes his way up to his bedroom hours later only to find you passed out on his bed still. He’s got a great idea on how to wake you up.

#rafe x reader #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe obx #rafe cameron x you #rafe x you #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x y/n

180 notes · View notes

antifainternational · 9 hours ago

Note

Tips for first-time protesters?

So many tips!

Before The Action: -Watch social media for announcements about the action or any last-minute changes to the plans for the action (like start times, rally points, etc). Be sure that the information you’re seeing is coming from a trusted source.-Probably a good idea to tell someone you know who’s not going what your plans are for getting there and what time you expect to be back. Maybe set up a time to call them to check-in. That way if you don’t call, they’ll know that something’s up. -Check the laws in your area around police powers to detain and arrest people. Find out what information you are legally obligated to provide the police and under what circumstance. Do you have to identify yourself if asked to by police? Do you have to show ID if asked to by police? Do the police have the power to detain you without charge? The answers vary depending on the country or region you’re in - best to find out what your rights are in advance! -Try to get a good night’s rest before the action and arrive sober and not hungover - you’ll need a clear head to make fast decisions on the go!-Try to go with someone else or, better still, a few other people that you know and trust (e.g. an affinity group). That way you can have each other’s backs and bolster attendance numbers too! If that’s not possible, you could try to make contact with a local antifa group and see if they’d be willing to let you join them in arriving at the action.

-If you are going it alone, that’s totally fine, too! You can probably expect other anti-fascists at the protest to be a little bit wary with you at first (due to the tendency of plainclothes police to infiltrate and try to provoke shit), but that’s not a big deal. The worst thing that might happen is that you’ll feel uncomfortable and leave early, but we bet it’s much more likely that you’ll be making some new friends!What To Bring: -Having some kind of official/government ID with you might mean that the cops don’t have an excuse to hold you even longer while they identify you. But this doesn’t always apply or make sense (e.g. for actions where delaying the cops by not revealing identities is part of the tactics). Many antifascists advise against bringing ID with you - it really depends on the region you’re in.

-Cash money - avoid bank card/debit card/credit cards

-Public transit tokens -it’s probably a good idea to bring some N-95 masks for health reasons alone, but concealing your identity is also very generally a good practice (provided you’ve checked local laws about wearing masks at protests beforehand!)

- Wear comfortable shoes. You’re going to be standing for a long time. And possibly doing some sprinting! Dress accordingly! -Wear clothing appropriate for the time of year and season for being outdoors for several hours, just in case.

- Bring water, shouting at nazis is thirsty work

-write down the phone number for legal support in case of arrest. -a change of clothes can help disrupt intelligence gathering by the opposition or police and also make you less conspicuous. For example, one member of our crew likes to bring a small backpack containing a different-coloured jacket, a hat, some sunglasses, and a tote bag big enough to fit everything in (including the backpack) and has been known to quickly duck into an alley or public washroom and switch jackets, put on the hat & sunglasses, stuff the backpack into the tote bag, and emerge looking like a completely different person! This has been a handy tactic when leaving a black bloc-style action to do recon of the opposition, for example.

What NOT To Bring:

-We’d recommend not bringing your phone or shelling out a few bucks to bring a burner phone that you’ve taken precautions to not connect to your person. That phone shouldn’t have contacts listed under real names, etc. If you do bring a phone keep it on lock - we know of cases where the cops or the fash got a hold of someone’s phone that wasn’t locked and then had all their contacts, photos, text & voice messages, access to their social media accounts, etc. Not good! Also remember that the cops could be using technology to intercept calls & texts. Basically, never communicate anything on a phone that you wouldn’t say in public.

-Don’t bring drugs or alcohol for what we hope are obvious reasons.

-Wearing identifiable clothing (i.e. with distinct logos, patches, patterns, colours, etc.) is not a good idea. Try to blend in with what others are wearing (that’s typically an all-black ensemble). Of course, having a change of clothes into something that doesn’t look like protest wear is probably a smart move (see above). At The Action: -If you didn’t organize the protest or are traveling to another area to attend it, it’s good etiquette to follow the lead of the organizers and not start shit that they’ll have to answer for after it’s said and done and you’ve left. -stick together - try to stay with the group during the action and not get cut off from them. -It’s not really ever a good idea to take photos of your side/the good guys at actions although there should be obvious reasons why you might want photos/video of the bad guys. Certainly never take pics of undisguised folks on your side without permission and certainly never post them publicly on social media, etc. You should try to avoid getting photographed if at all possible. -if police are there, use the STFU strategy. Shut The Fuck Up. Do not speak with them. If they ask you a question, “no comment” or “I don’t answer questions” suffices (providing your local laws allow this - be sure you’ve checked beforehand!). -as a general rule, use common sense and pay attention to the situation at hand and let that determine what you do/don’t do. Final tip: don’t over-worry yourself here - for sure make some common-sense preparations before you go but make sure you go! After The Action -make sure you’re safe to leave the action. This might mean traveling with others along a route you pre-planned. Or it might mean arriving at a pre-planned rally point afterwards to make sure everyone’s OK. Watch for people you don’t know following you. It might be a good idea to not travel directly home, but instead go to a public space or a few public spaces first. GOOD LUCK/LET US KNOW HOW IT GOES!

209 notes · View notes

jjkeremika · 1 year ago

Text

AoT men in your class hit on you

description: you’re in classes with the men from attack on titan; they try to flirt with you.

pairing: reiner x reader, armin x reader, connie x reader, jean x reader, eren x reader, levi x reader, erwin x reader, zeke x reader, galliard x reader

*unspecified gendered reader*

Reiner

Reiner flashed you his prettiest smile, the one he’d practiced in the mirror on occasion, the one he knew looked nice. The smile was contagious, sparking a small smile to grow on your face as you peered at him out of the corner of your eyes.

He’d keep the smile as he’d scratch at the back of his neck, asking, “Want to study together for the next quiz?” Reiner would flex his bicep a little more, raise his eyebrow and smirk seductively, run his hand through his shirt blond hair. “I’ll test you. Tonight”

Armin

You were surprised when Armin asked for your help with studying. He’d been scoring the highest in the class until recently, which you had assumed to have been a fluke.

Armin would curl his toes into the ground and bite the inside of his lip as the heat rushed to his face, as he lied about his level of understanding and hoped you’d believe it. Hoped you’d spend extra time with him, one-on-one.

“If you have the time,” he’d added cautiously, your silence unsettling him. “There’s no pressure, but Id repay you however you… please…” He swallowed hardly, you watched his adam’s apple bob. “However… unconventional.”

Connie

Connie would scratch the back of his neck in embarrassment, faux-confidence reeking off his skin as he flexed his muscles and tried to appear solid. The light sheen of sweat and pink blush across his cheeks exposed the truth, but you were willing to look past it because it was so warm out.

“Hey, y/n…” His usually loud voice was quieter today, a usually unbound announcement finally directed towards someone—you, “how are you feeling for this next quiz? I-I can help you if you need it.”

You couldn’t stifle the laugh in time before it was bubbling off your lips, making Connie’s face darker but also causing him to chuckle a little too. “H-hey, why is that so funny?”

Jean

Jean always tried too hard to impress you. Fumbling the ball because he checked to see if you watched him catch it; missed the goalpost because he focused on you being on the sideline and not the direction of the ball; wiped out during the mile run because he spent more time waving at you than watching the trail.

You tended to any wounds after, unsure if the blush that intimately graced his face was from the embarrassment of failing or the fact that your hands were on his body or both. Maybe it was on purpose, always needing your help.

Both yours and his gazes were fixed onto his ankle, where your hands were slowly and wrapping a bandage around the bruised skin. "Thank you... for always helping," Jean uttered coyly, looking up to make eye contact, his skin warm. "Maybe I can return the favor somehow." He looked away, the pink turning a deep red, but his fingertips were brushing your upper-arm. "Help you..."

Eren

Eren had sat next to you today, waving slightly. You greeted him and Mikasa as she sat on his other side. "Hey," he greeted softly, "did... did you get a haircut?"

"Yeah," you nodded, running your hand through the strands quickly. He blushed and looked away, facing the table.

"He thinks you look nice," Mikasa said plainly, smiling at you from behind him, which prompted him to look at her in a flash of horror and embarrassment and whisper-shouted, "Mikasa! Stop!"

You laughed, the magnetic sound pulling Eren's attention back towards you. "I think you look nice too, Eren," you complimented, biting your lip shyly.

He froze for a moment, struggling to remember how to breathe. "I, uh, um," he started, swallowing in between, "You look... nicer."

"He'd think you'd look nicer on a date together," Mikasa chirped from behind him, settling into the chair. He shouted at her again, the blush deepening.

Levi

Since you normally spent time in a group, having it be just you and Levi felt a little awkward. Most of the time he didn't speak anyway and you silently traced his features, appreciated each angle. You fiddled with a ring as you debated topics to bring up, wondered if he wanted to even speak to you at all. That was the thing with him. You had no idea where you stood.

You had opened your mouth to speak when he interrupted, "Did you get a haircut?" Same tone as always, but he was looking at you now with that iron gaze, the one that sucked the air out between them like a vacuum.

You hummed and nodded. "It looks nice." He reached his hand out and briefly touched the loose strand in front of your ear. "Suits you."

Erwin

Erwin had called out your name in the hallway to grasp your attention, his tight t-shirt immediately catching your eyes as he rushed over to you. It didn't help that he was so tall, and your eyes met at his nipples, and his shirt was so tight.

He repeated your name which caused your attention to move from his chest to his lips. He'd said something. You weren't paying attention. Shit.

"Sorry, what?" you asked sheepishly, blushing from embarrassment. Because it was him, the guy who always gave off the perfect persona, the guy who didn't need to ask because he was always listening.

Erwin laughed and repeated his offer to carry your textbooks to class, taking them from your hands before you could respond and walking alongside you.

Then you watched him unintentionally ignore a friend, someone who tried to say hi to him but he was oblivious to it. You couldn't explain it, but the fact that he didn't hear it made your palms sweat. You thought he was always aware, always listening.

But maybe that was just because he was always listening to you.

Zeke

You had fallen into step with Zeke after Jean and Eren ran off together, racing and arguing over some obsolete, absurd test of masculinity.

"Are you going to join them?" you asked him jokingly, pointing towards the immature boys trying to trip the other one as they both ran.

Zeke sighed, "I'd hoped you knew me better than that." He slumped his shoulders dramatically, and clutched his hand over his heart. "Oh, how your words wound me."

You rolled your eyes. "You're so dramatic, just like your brother." Zeke scoffed as you shrugged. "But that just means it runs in the family. Besides, you're way more mature than your brother. Like, he's not even on the board. So--"

"You are quite mature... and remarkable," he interrupted. You blushed, automatically retorting with a sarcastic commend, "Okay, well I didn't say you were remarkable."

"I'd like to be," he said plainly, stopping to look at you, "to be remarkable to you. To mean something to you."

Galliard

Normally Galliard only approached you on days where Reiner was all over you, picking on Reiner in front of you every chance he got, puffing his chest out slightly whenever you laughed.

Today, though, you were sat at your desk alone when he walked over and sat in front of you. “Hey, Porco,” you greeted, smiling, originally intending to quickly glance up but your irises caught on his and now they felt tethered.

“Good morning, y/n,” he replied smoothly, his tone different when Reiner wasn’t around, when it was just you two. It was silent for a moment, the only sign of time passing being the other students moving around you. “Heard Reiner asked you out. Wanted to hear what charity you were a part of that made you say yes.”

You laughed, covering your mouth in embarrassment when other students looked at you. He smirked, a light pink embracing his cheeks. "We should go out sometime," he added, winking, "Whatever time Reiner's thing is."

2K notes · View notes