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slutsareteacherstoo · 7 months ago

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I Hope Part 3 - Terry Richmond x Black OC

Black Fem! OC - Savannah (dark skinned, curvy, and disabled) x Terry Richmond (Gentle!Terry, Sweet!Terry, Nervous!Terry)

(I gotta get better at these tags, suggestions welcome!)

Summary: Terry finds himself a change of scenery to after the events of Rebel Ridge

Warnings/Things of Note: I made him cry 😭🤣 (idk i just feel like that’s important; THE MAN IS GRIEVING!!!)

Word count: 3K+ (3,093)

Author’s Note: Thank you for your patience. After I made my last post I was like lemme try and polish it, but then I added more and then i fell asleep. Been fighting sleep tryna finish this part. I dont like how this part ends because it doesn’t have all the descriptions I wanted but it’s part 3 complete and onto part 3. im also trying to not let myself not sharing anything because Imma be holding on it to it for who knows how long cuz life is beating my butt😵‍💫

So canonically, Terry was born in 1992. And they wrapped up filming in July 2022. A lot of folks have been using 30 for Terry’s age since thats how old Aaron is. And so i was like okay cuz in my mind this takes place a few months after Rebel Ridge and so i used the time period to my advantage and make it an important part of the story

So we are throwing it back a bit in time to start at the beginning of their story. I was rereading it like oh shit damn i did do something frfr but we gotta go chronologic for this to work.

It’s kinda proofread but i be missing words when i type (also its 2:30 in the morning so idk its probably mistakes in there) Comments and critiques are welcome 🤗

don’t do too much tho🌚 cuz apparently yall think you can talk to people anyhow on this internet.

Anyways. Enjoy. ☺️

Fall 2022

Terry was making his way to the library. He needed a place to charge his phone and to think before heading to his final destination to meet her. Sun shining, skin glistening with sweat and pedaling hard to the tune of metal, he focused on where he was going. And what his next steps would be.

He wanted something different. Something better. He was trying to be better. Someone new. He’d been out of the military for almost 5 years now. And for the past 2, he’d been trying to shed that skin. To cut those ties and be someone new. A man and not a machine.

It’s why he found himself not at home but more than 2000 miles away from it. Away from what happened some months ago. The grief he was holding was too much. The very much preventable death of his favorite cousin. The future he envisioned for the both of them and what was to come instead. The loss of camaraderie and brotherhood of his fellow Marines while also knowing he needed to get out while he still could.

With his desired destination now in full view, he eased his pace a bit, preparing to slow down and eventually stop. The music in his ears was coming to a crescendo when he finally got off of his bike. He pulled his blue backpack for the lock and began the short walk to the bike locker. He hoisted it upward to fit in the rack with the other bikes.

After closing the locker, he decided to take a swig of water while looking at the landscape before him. Body turned to face the direction he’d previously came from. He was taking in the urban landscape, a concrete jungle lined with palm trees. A different view from the country back home. After taking the moment to center himself, Terry decided to enter the library.

He was making his way through the sliding doors, being met with the building’s cool air immediately. And when the song he was listening to faded, a different melody came through but it wasn’t from his phone. It was someone speaking. A smooth and gentle voice that resonated with Terry strongly. The person was saying something about frozen food. He took his buds out, ear by ear, to see where the voice was coming from. Hearing it in fullness and clarity, the feeling of resonance grew inside of him. Almost like recognition.

“So when we’re shopping for food, it can seem difficult to try and eat healthier. The fresh fruits and veggies seem to be more expensive than other items. So it makes sense that we want to go for what’s cheaper. Especially if we have mouths to feed,” said the voice.

A chorus of agreement in yeses, yups, and mhmms came from the direction of the voice.

“That’s why I like to get some of mine from the freezer.”

The chorus sounded again in wonder, confusion and intrigue. Terry’s interest was piqued too. Since he was going to start figuring out all this for himself again, he might as well listen. He finally looked and faced his body in the group’s direction, standing straight with hands crossed in front of him at attention. And she had it. The group’s conductor captivated him immediately. He didn’t know why but it felt important.

Her hair was in low puff and covered by a magenta bandanna. Translucent lavender glasses were the gateway to deep, dark brown cat eyes, lined in black. Terry couldn’t help but be drawn in by their allure. Thin, gold oversized hoops framed her face and gave warmth to her deep brown skin. The rest of it was covered by a white mask with light blue straps.

That actually gave him pause. Was he supposed to be wearing one? Maybe he missed a sign, distracted by the captivating conductor. Performing a quick scan, he hadn’t seen one, nor many other patrons wearing them as well. He’d spotted maybe 4 or 5 people outside the seated group and conductor. Some wore thin, black and light blue ones. Others wore more sturdy-looking ones? People had them in different colors—white, black, pink green. Maybe he could ask someone for one or why they were still wearing them.

Terry was dedicated to listening. He really was. She was talking to these folks about trying to eat good while stretching a dollar. Especially because he was gonna be staying in this expensive ass place for a minute. He was taking in all the details. Including the woman’s orange crochet cardigan and the white ribbed shirt stretched over her large chest. The white shirt was tucked into black yoga pants, waistband showcasing her soft, round belly. At a certain point, she’d put her hand on her hip; the orange cardigan behind her elbow now showing her wide set hips and full thighs that clung to the fabric. The rest of the material flared out at her knees over white light brown running shoes.

Terry heard something about freezing cooked rice. Something something starch profile. But it was the woman’s that had him at attention. He couldn’t see behind her but…he was NOT supposed to be checking out this random stranger in a random place. Being captivated by a masked maiden or whatever, this was neither the time nor place but damn she was everything.

Terry had thought these thoughts were all in his head, until the library worker behind him cleared their throat loudly for the audience of the one and only Terry Richmond. He was blushing with embarrassment and mortification, turning to meet the worker behind him. He smiled nervously and hoped the apology in his eyes came through. So much for trying to better man.

“I’m sorry about that. Is there a place I can charge my phone,” he asked while adjusting his backpack.

The worker pointed in the opposite direction of Savannah and her group. “You can go over there.” The worker was wearing a thin, black mask so he couldn’t see the bottom half of their face. But the expression in their eyes made it clear that he could actually go to hell, needed to keep it pushing and do so expeditiously. “Thank you,” Terry peered down at the worker’s badge to see their name, “Casey,” and made his way to get some juice for his phone.

Terry found an empty spot at a desk, back towards the wall and face towards the rest of the library. He could see the place with a much wider vantage point, but the conductor from earlier now out of his range. He ought to feel ashamed of himself and he did. Terry shook his head and sighed. He took a few calming breaths. In and out. In and out. Feeling a bit more comfortable, he pulls out his phone and charger, plugging it into the wall. He unlocks his phone to look at the address saved in his phone for the hundredth time. As if he hadn’t memorized it by heart. One of his safe spaces. Being with her. Figuring out what he’s going to say to her and how everything will work when he sees her again for the first time since the funeral.

He plugs in the library’s address to calculate the distance between the two of them. It was only 37 minutes. Not too bad surprisingly. Although, that might change whenever his phone got to 100 percent. His auntie had told him to be wary about the traffic. That he should overestimate at least 30 minutes to 1 hour for wherever he wanted to go, because you never knew how far you’d be set back and you never wanted to tempt fate.

He couldn’t wait to see her again. It’d only been 3 months since Mike’s funeral. A couple more since the life altering events of Shelby Springs.

— - - -

The navigation on his phone alerted Terry that his auntie’s house was coming up soon on the right. He decided to stop the bike and walk with it to the front door. The closer he got to the familiar grey house, the more he

felt the dam of emotions begin give. He walked the bike up the driveway and set it between the garage door and the big truck. Stopping in front of the red door, he drew in a few deep breaths. He was trying to steady his nerves. Terry didn’t want to break down in front of the woman’s steps. At least not in public, he didn’t want to embarrass the woman. When felt ready enough, he rapped 4 times into the hollow of the white door.

Terry heard movement from the other side, and then the clicking of locks. The door opened to reveal a woman with golden brown skin and salt-and-pepper curls. She was wearing a green blouse with wide-legged white pants and brown strappy sandals. Her eye color matched Terry’s green-blue-grey. There was no mistaking that he and Taylor Richmond were cut from the same cloth. Upon seeing her, he hugged Taylor immediately. Terry was lost in the feeling of her, the smell of her—a signature brown sugar and cinnamon. It reminded him that this was a safe space. That he could be himself here—no questions, no judgement; no putting him on a pedestal, calling him a hero; no pity and no blame from others who weren’t there.

Her nephew didn’t even let her get a word out. Taylor only let out a yelp of surprise before embracing her nephew back and chuckling. His hold on her was tight. Good lord, this boy, she thought. When she heard the sob that ripped through Terry though…oh Lord, this boy. She pulled back slightly to get a look at him. His eyes were a sea of sorrow and ache. Even in this vulnerable state, she sensed relief in him letting it out. His frame was still slightly bowed from embracing hers. She held his face in her hands.

“Well, hello to you too. If you missed me that bad, you should’ve told me to pick you up at the airport,” she said with a raised brow and wiped his tears with her thumbs. That made Terry chuckle.

“Hi, Auntie,” he said, “And I’m sorry. I didn’t want to put you out.”

“Terry, you’re literally staying in my house for God knows how long. And you’re my nephew. I’m not braving that traffic to the airport for just anybody,” Taylor said with a furrowed brow.

Terry turned his head from his auntie so he’d have space to roll his eyes, mostly at himself. Taylor caught him though. She lightly tapped him in the center of his chest with the back of her freshly manicured hands, bangles ringing in unison.

“Now, you stop all that and get in here,” Taylor said in a mocking tone.

“Yes, ma’am,” Terry obliged with a few nods, wiping at his eyes again for good measure and tugged on his backpack straps.

He followed his aunt and crossed the threshold of her home, making sure to remove his shoes before he ventured further and placed his backpack down. Taylor was making her way to the kitchen, where he guessed she was earlier before announcing his arrival. Terry took a moment to admire some of the living room. It had a grey sectional with a maroon throw blanket draped across its back. The walls were decorated with photos of his family over the years, his auntie and uncle in different places around the world, a photo of him and Mike as kids playing in the front yard caught his eye. He walked toward the picture and reached up for it. He ghosted his hand over the frame and glass and stared at it in awe and remembrance. Terry felt his aunt’s gaze on him before she spoke.

“I remember that summer clear as day. You two were a menace with those water balloons,” Taylor said, the sounds of wooden spatula hitting the edge of a pot rang through the space.

Terry looked over his shoulder at his aunt, a look of disbelief with a hint of mischief behind it.

“I wouldn’t really say menace,” he said, trailing off a bit.

“Please, the neighbors gave me and your uncle hell over it,” Taylor exclaimed, pointing the spatula at Terry through the view space of the breakfast bar and upper cabinets, “especially because you got a lot of the other kids involved in that scheme. An entire summer, you two planned that out,” Taylor said shaking her head, while returning some spices to the cabinet.

“Well, you told us to make friends and that’s exactly what we did!” Terry said with a laugh, quickly turning back to the wall to return the frame. The laugh left a smile that brought wrinkles to the edges of his eyes. Taylor was happy to see it. It was a genuine one. And she missed seeing it on her nephew’s face.

Taylor playfully rolled her eyes and gestured for Terry to sit counter.

“Come over here and wash up. I know you’re hungry.”

Terry bounced over to his aunt, joining her in the kitchen and washing his hands. He reached up and across for plates and utensils from muscle memory. Terry waited for his aunt to make her plate to then make his own (she wouldn’t let him when he offered). He opened the fridge for 2 bottles of water, and balanced them with his plate and their utensils. He then went to join her at the dining table.

After a quick prayer over the food, the two dug in. Terry groaned in satisfaction and appreciation. He missed good food like this. He could cook himself, but a big part that made the food good was that his Auntie Taylor put her heart and soul into the food she made; and did every time but he felt and knew she made this specifically for him.

“Thank you, Auntie. For the food and letting me stay here with you for a while,” Terry said graciously.

“Of course, baby. It’s nothing at all. It’ll be nice to have another person ‘round here,” Taylor said with her fork in hand, using it to emphasize the space they were in. “And besides, I’m not gonna be the only one in that kitchen. All them years working with Mr. Liu and Ken, I know you got some good meals in that brain of yours. And you’ll also be buying groceries. Lord knows the last time you were here, you almost ate us out of house and home.”

“Okay. So, rent and groceries. I can do that,” Terry agreed.

“No, I don’t need your money for rent. You keep that.” Taylor said firmly

Terry stared his aunt down, but Taylor Elise Richmond was better. So Terry stood down.

“Yes, ma’am.” he said lowly, scratching the back of his neck. He hadn’t said it under his breath, only accepting his aunt at her word. She was a reasonable woman but a staredown with her would always be a losing battle, a lesson he’d learned spending many summers here in her home.

“Now, you’ll stay in the backhouse. I put fresh sheets and towels down for you,” Taylor began. “You can enter it through the gate by the driveway. It’s got everything over there, except washer and dryer.” She stood from the table and grabbed a set of keys from the counter. “These are yours. Please do not lose them.” Terry nodded at her.

“Hmm…let’s see what else am I forgetting?” Taylor said tapping her pointing index finger against her chin. “I can’t think of anything else right,” Taylor added as she turned head to the kitchen clock.

“Oh shoot,” Taylor exclaimed. “I gotta go drop a plate of food to my neighbor.”

“Here, let me do it. I’ll clear the table and make the plate,” Terry offered after getting out of his chair and began do what he said. “I know you did a lot, preparing everything for me when I got here. So I got it.”

Taylor sighed at herself mostly. Her nephew was a persistent and she was a bit tired.

“Okay,” she relented, leaning against the counter with her hands up in mock surrender. Taylor watched as Terry put the leftover food in a plastic Tupperware container. He removed the pots and pants from the stove and placed them in the sink to soak.

Terry rounded the corner to meet his aunt at the counter. He picked the keys up.

“So, which way am I going?” he asked her.

“Just right across. It’ll be the house with the red flower decorations,” Taylor responded.

“Thank you,”

“No, thank you.”

Terry headed to the front door with the food in hand. He set it down quickly on the entry table to put on his shoes.

“Oh, one more thing,” Taylor went to meet him up front. She reached for the first drawer of the plastic chest nestled under the table and pulled. Returning to a neutral position, she placed a black face mask on the lid.

Terry glanced down at the item.

“They sick over there or something?”

“No. Well, something like that. It’s just better for her, when we go over there.”

Terry nodded and put the mask on. Taylor unlocked the door for him and gestured to his delivery destination across the street.

“I’ll be back real soon,” Terry said, kissing his aunt on the cheek.

Now on the sidewalk, he checked both sides of the street for traffic before cutting across. He spotted the house with the red flower directions and knocked on the door 3 times. He heard a voice call out, “Coming!”. Terry was tapping his thumbs on the top of the container when he realized he forgot the poor neighbor’s name. His aunt had told him but it slipped from his short-term memory. When the lock clicked, he resolved he’d ask the nice, older lady.

The door opened and he went to introduce himself but he was stopped in his tracks.

“Hi,” the woman said. “You must be Terry?”

Terry nodded, “Yes, how’d you know that?”

“Your aunt. She said a nephew was staying over, that and your eyes. You two are definitely the same. Thank you for bringing this over.” the woman said. “And my name is Savannah,” she added, holding her hand out for a handshake.

It wasn’t just any woman. It was his conductor from the library earlier today. And now he knew her name.

Thanks for reading! Until next time😇

————-

Big big shoutouts to @kumkaniudaku @megamindsecretlair @earthchica @theereina @brattyfics @uzumaki-rebellion @sweettea-and-honeybutter @mymindisneverhere yall are fantastic your writing has shown me that i can push myself and im capable of writing more and like get in my craft frfr recently 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️

#slutsareteacherstoo #atiya writes #terry x savannah #terry richmond #terry richmond x black female reader #terry richmond x black!oc #terry richmond fic #terry richmond fanfiction #terry richmond x black oc #rebel ridge fics

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a-boca-do-inferno · 2 years ago

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beija minha boca até me matar (tony montana x reader) [request]

summary: Tony is stressed and you are tired.

warnings: angst, swearing, abuse and sort of fluff.

words: 0.8k

notes: this is small and very anemic plot wise, so im sorry for that. loosely based on doce vampiro by rita lee.

Sometimes you wondered if your love would stop enduring at some point. If no matter how much you wanted to be with him, someday your body and soul would finally give in to the exhaustion, because that’s how you felt. Exhausted. God, what time was it? It felt so long since you’ve last rested. Insomnia was a big thing these days with all the chaos around you, the gang fights, the power struggles; you understood nothing of it, but at times you wish you did. Maybe you’d be able to help Tony in the slightest, offer him some comfort. And you tried, oh, did you try. But it was just to no avail.

He was as restless as you, although he tried to disguise it as his customary anger towards the world. You could sense it whenever he was close, when his hand would tremble just a little as he gulped down a glass of whisky in one go. When the crease between his brows would become only a little bit more noticeable. When he’d only swear once, as though not even those silly words were enough to somehow soothe him anymore. You did your best to try and give him some solace, but while your kisses pleased his face, his arms would fall coldly frigid at his sides. He wasn’t in the moment, and that was so uncharacteristic of him.

You felt helpless at those times, often choosing to leave him in his office and go to your bed, crying in silence until the sun was up again. He would spend his nights away from your room, causing you to entertain thoughts maybe about you actually being the problem, not his issues in the drug business. You never dared touch anything other than alcohol and that was perhaps something that lingered in the back of his mind, still. Would he think you’d eventually turn on him, sell him out to the police? Sometimes he’d call you “good Samaritan”, because in his own words, “you’re too clean, too good, too uptight. What the fuck are you doing with me?”, and wasn’t that the million-dollar question?

What the fuck, indeed?

“You rely too much on people, Manny. That’s your fucking mistake”, comes his loud, deep voice from the corridor. You close your eyes in contempt, not really wanting to listen to one of his lectures again. God bless Manny for being able to do it more than you. “I say, fuck people. I can do anything by myself.”

“Because it’s been working so well so far”, you let it slip out, causing him to give you a death glare. Tony didn’t scare you easily, contrary to popular belief, but he could become quite scary when he felt like it. This was one of those times.

He huffs, walking towards you slowly, “what did you just say, princess? You think you can disrespect me in my own fucking house, drinking my own fucking whisky that I bought? Is that it?”

He’s agitated, and you unconsciously flinch when he sits beside you, like a lion cornering its prey. You can’t help but shake your head, looking away from his hard eyes. “You know I don’t like when you talk to me like that”, you say softly, albeit your words carry weight to them. You don’t say them to him very often, surprisingly, but when you do… He better watch his reply. Tony knows that.

So, he does. “Mi amor”, he coos immediately, his frown fading in a second when he seems to come to his senses. You are practically crawling on the couch, in fetal position, guarding yourself from his touch, and he notices this. Tony extends his rough hand and rubs your thigh gently, nuzzling your neck, trying to make you more at ease in his presence. “I’m sorry, baby. I’m fucking stupid, I’m a fucking jerk. I’m sorry”, he speaks quietly, but firmly, his deep voice vibrating on your skin.

Then, there comes your answer. No matter how many times he let stress get the best of him, and no matter how many of his motivations you simply did not understand: Tony was Tony, your Tony, and he would always be. So, you let yourself be wrapped in his big arms once more in silence, simply enjoying his warmth. He felt like home and he was home, as inhabitable as he could become at given times. It was like loving a vampire. Having your life be sucked out of you everyday, yet always craving for more. A delicious poison.

And somehow, all exhaustion dissipated when he got closer to you, serving like a long nap after a tough day. It seemed like you were the complement to one another. Maybe that was the reason you were still here, after all.

Enduring.

#scarface x reader #tony montana x reader #al pacino x reader #al pacino #tony montana #scarface #tony montana imagine #al pacino imagine #scarface imagine

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rafedaddy01 · 2 years ago

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Pt1

Notes: here is the long awaited pt2, I’m sorry it took so long. I’ve been active but I haven’t had the chance to sit down and write this until now. Ps. I didn’t double check for spelling errors so if you see any just 🤫

Last night was strange. I try to push the embarrassing thoughts from invading my mind as i stir in bed, the sun coming up and painting the room.

Our exchange was awkward if anything more. he just eyed me up and down and smirked as i burst out of the room and shut the door. i slid down onto the floor and just sat there for a minute trying to process what i just saw.

Ive never been with a boy let alone seen one naked. Especially one that looks like THAT!

oof, i knew rafe cameron would be good looking but i expected him to look like all the rich, silver-spoon, snobs ive met. But no. he was god like. His hair was slicked back and his eyes roamed my body from the mirror dangerously, i could see the blue in them from where i was standing and they were mesmerizing. His facial features are sculpted to perfection and his abs. Oh. My. God.

and then there was his -dick- gross i dont like that word, but there it was. just staring at me. ive never seen one, besides in porn. Im not a prude i know what sex is and yes i indulge in my own sexual pleasure, but ive never actually seen one in person beofre, but if they all look like that then sign me up!

I groan as my alarm rings at 6am sharp. I always get up early because i like the morning peace. back home i would climb the roof of our manor and watch as the sun rose. it was my own private meditation and helped ease some of the stress my parents enforced on me as a 18 year old.

I walk to the bathroom rubbing my eyes and yawning, i dont expect anyone to be up at this time and i want to relax in the shower.

"Oh my god! dont you ever lock the door?" i say as i take a step back and shut the door. I could hear his deep laugh from the other side as he walked up an dopened the door. "dont worry, pretty girl, im all dressed this time" i could feel his smirk even though my hands were still covering my eyes.

i let them fall and hes right hes very much clothed. shame, wait what am i thinking! I take him in, hes wearing a bright orange shirt that as small white stripes on it and cargo shorts, his hair is slicked back with gel like last night, oh god last night. my eyes shift down to his crotch. is he.. hard?' "see something you like pretty girl?" he cocks an eyebrow at me as he leans on the door frame. "i sure do" he says smugly

oh shoots, i forgot im still wearing my sleepwear, its a black lacy bralette and matching panties, i dont like sleeping with clothes on it gets too hot. im instantly aware of how exposed i am and rush for a hoodie from my luggage, it wont cover much but it drops to just above my thighs and its better than nothing "sorry" i murmur, "dont be, its only fair i see you naked now" he says as he walks into my room and exits through my bedroom door.

"see you at breakfast? shame i missed dinner last night, i was looking forward to meeting you miss Morales" he stops in the doorway and says this before leaving

i cant help but blush. is rafe flirting with me?

i shake it off and go back to my morning routine, i take a shower and wash myself with the same cedarwood and ginger shampoo i did last night and put on some baggy jeans and hoodie as i make my way to breakfast.

"good morning Avery" ward says as they all sit in the same seats from last night, except rafe is here and his seat is right next to mine. fuck.

"you havent met rafe yet, our eldest" ward syas as i take a seat next to him "oh weve met dad" rafe answers as he smiles at me

"good, youll be showing her around school next week, ive already arranged it and youll have all the same classes. I want her to feel welcomed in this town rafe, her father is an important man and were proud to be helping the Morales's" ward explains.

shit i completly forgot about school. high school. senior year. New people, rich pricks and bitchy girls. I am so not ready.

"we still on for today?' i ask sarah as we eat our pancakes. "yes!' she says excitedly

"whats today" rafe asks

sarah rolls her eyes and i can sense the tension between the two, they do not like each other thats for sure

"im showing avery around the island and introducing her to some friends." sarah says

rafe scoffs "you call those dirty pouges friends" he says crossing his arms over his chest "i dont know why you hangout with them sarah" he snaps at her "because their good people rafe, something you dont know how to be" she slightly yells "kids!' ward warns. they both grumble as rafe pushes his seat back and storms off, breakfast barely touched. wheezie sits there like nothing just happened and sips her juice. shit this family is a little crazy, theres definatly more to their story.

After breakfast me and sarah head into town on some bikes, its not a long ride and we reach a restaurant type of building. "kie" sarah says as she walks up to a tan skinned girl with curly hair whose smile lights up the whole room "this isavery, shes staying with us for a while" there it is again, a while, i sure hope not. "nice to meet you" i say extending my hand, kie pushing it away and brings me in to a tight bear hug, i do not like being touched but i let it slide its oddly comforting. "im kie or kiara" she explains.

we spend some time chatting and kie explains that this restaurant is her parents and she helps run it. we get to know each other a little more and then sarah decides to introduce me to the rest of her gang.

we pull up to a cheatue house in kies car and exit. "hey, wasss up kook queen" a boys voice beams as he brings sarah in to a tight hug. hes cute, in a boy next door kind of way, his features are pretty and its not my type but his charming personality is interesting, ingiging almsot. "Im JJ" he bows to me and takes a hand kissing the top of it "Avery" i giggle at his antics and he winks. "this is John B and Pope" sarah says as we walk up furtuer to the house and there are two boys sitting drinking beers. "sup" they say as i walk up.

"so what brings you to a shithole like this" John B asks, he has his arm around sarah, they are clearly cozy. "Im orginially from California, a small town Nevada City, my dad opened one of the banks there and its gradually increased and become nationwide so we moved here for business purposes but im staying with the camerons until my parents settle some business back in cali" i explain

"so your a kook? shame" jj speaks my eyebrows scrunch as i look at sarah "whats a kook?" i ask. they all laugh as if im some stupid little girl, "a kook is those who live on the fancy side of town, hangout at the country club and spend daddys money, like rafe" he looks over to sarah "no offense, princess" "none taken" she laughs as she drinks her beer. "and pouges" pope speaks up, finally, "are us. the low lifes, who have to work two jobs to have a stable life and survive" he says. the group goes quiet and its odd. they have names for the groups in the town, it all seems like its straight out a movie and theres a rivalry between the two, its obvious. the way jj described the kooks with such hatred.

"but stick with us baby girl and well teach you the right way" jj says slinging an arm around me and dangling a beer in front of me

for the third time, i do not like being touched, but theres a calming in his presence, its not like rafe who excites and frightens me at the same time.

"count me in!" i beam as i take the beer from him and crack it open. tilting my head back and gulping down the liquid "thats it! woo!" jj shouts as he stands up and does the tarzan pose and hits his chest "P4L" they all chant as jj down his beer.

the rest of the day was spent with the pouges as they call themselves and me and and sarah go back home towards the evening

"did you two have fun" rafe asks as we pass him outside. hes leaning on the door frame with a smug smirk on his face "dont start rafe" she says as she walks past him "i told dad about your little adventure today, hes not happy" rafe says smiling as he eyes me down "really rafe, your such a dick" sarah pouts as she runs inside. he eyes me one more time before walking past me and inside

i dont know what it is about rafe but he intriging, its like something is pulling me in towards him. the way he stares at me makes my knees weak and my hurt beat faster. i realize the shampoo i use is his as his smells wafts off him when he walks by "oh by the way Avery, i like when you use my shampoo. it smells good on you" he stops in the doorway behind me and takes a deep inhale of my black locks

what am i gonna do with him, hes very straight forward and my body craves him in a way that ive never experienced, its dangerous and exhilarating all in one.

i head back to my room and pass by the study, i hear ward an sarah arguing. "this i important sarah! you cant ruin this for us. this is business and taking her on the cut can put her in serious danger. stop hanging out with those dirty pogues and get your head out of the gutter!" ward shouts "whatever dad, theyll always be mor of a family then you, and maybe she fits in with us!" sarah shouts back then theres a slam of the front door and sarahs gone

i take a deep breath as i head back up the stairs and into my room. what does he mean i could get hurt? what is nobody telling me? where are my parents and what the fuck is going on?

@f4ll-for-you @v21sstuff @rafeysworldim19 @baby19sthings @eventualoptimism @drewstarkeysbae @sevenwivesofrafecameron @rxfecameronsslut @findapenny @r1vrsefx

#outer banks #rafe cameron #drew starkey #smut #dark rafe cameron #outerbanks #drewstarkey #drewstarkey smut #rafecameron #fanfic #rafe fluff #dark rafe #rafe sad #sad rafe #rafe x you #rafe fanfiction #rafe smut #rafe x reader

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the0ther-side0f-dawn · 7 months ago

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long personal post about how actually things have gotten better

warning: mention of heavy topics

so im deciding to start re-embracing the joy and sincerity and vulnerability i had at 15. Tumblr was literally my diary.

however the suicidal ideation of being 15? no. tho we still have bouts of hopelessness, but its different now. however i do rlt struggle to refer to that time as being suicidal, but im not sure there is a better word. like i did not want to live, but i did not want to die - because all of my thoughts and logic had me convinced that yeh, it could (and likely would) be worse ... moving on...

i also used to actually reblog stuff. not just scroll and like. and ive been reblogging more lately.

why wasnt i reblogging or posting?

at some point i became very repressed. i shut down self expression and started just internalising all of my lows and lots of other thoughts. i had some bad friendships and experiences and shitty home life where i adapted by just burying everything. not just the bad stuff. i was terrified of judgement and having the things i enjoyed and cared about and liked, be torn to shreds. i was also very scared to say the wrong thing (thanks Tumblr Moral Perfectionism and Purity Culture). but whilst im still not comfortable sharing my passions and emotions IRL... thats just common sense. its mostly family and experience has taught me that they will insult me. i am a lot less afraid of cringe. and im a lot more confident in my own thoughts and opinions. we could also talk about how fandom died for me in 2016 and iykyk. like i lost hope and didn't see the point trying to care again if loss was inevitable. its one of those grand philosophical questions and my answer was that it was better to have no joy or love than it was to risk having something and suffering the pain of losing it... but that is an anxiety mindset. you cannot be happy living out of caution. the greatest joy comes not without risk.

anyways, for a few years now, ive really been on the up. i got some diagnoses which meant I could finally start to understand myself and what was going on and why, and I could learn to manage it. And im not just talking mental/neurodivergence. i was also really physically sick for a long time and im still dealing with the trauma of that because noone fucking believed me (ps. if anyone knew me during that time and you did believe me. thanks. but also despite my memory being shit, ive got to say noone rly knew me during that time. i was very shutdown and had very limited interaction with anyone.) and all i just kept hearing about during that time was how lazy I was and how i must have a really low pain tolerance but ANYWAY. point is, im doing better.

still not living in a perfect situation, and im still not well (i never will be, such is the nature of "chronic" ) but im not living in a state of fear and dread every single day. im in a much better place.

am i exhausted constantly bc i now have a fulltime job and it is unnecessarily stressful and also physically demanding and also i have very little energy to begin with? yeh. but also do i love my job? also yes.

do i have very real concerns that im going to burn out and/or my condition will worsen and i will be unable to work and support myself and i wont have a safety net? also yeh. thats that bouts of hopelessness i mentioned earlier.

but mostly, im doing okay.

i dont have as many friendships as i used to, or any especially close friends but, the people i do have in my life are good people. i dont feel constantly scared that i will say the wrong thing - something embarrassing or awkward or questionable - and that they will abandon me. there is a sense of security.

i dont rly have anyone that I feel completely comfortable and relaxed around but im getting there. Like very almost there, for the first time in my entire life. i can see the possibility of being accepted and at ease. and it is really only me holding myself back. (one day i will figure out how to relax).

i constantly joke about having cured my anxiety but honestly? i kind of did. the thought patterns are still there but I'm so much better equipped to recognise and manage those thoughts. my every action is no longer dictated by my anxiety. most of the time I'm barely aware of what im doing. which thats its own issue... But im no longer in a perpetual state of hypervigilance and that is good. im not even on antidepressants anymore. I've got the anxiety under control, not the other way around.

if 15 year old me met me now- she would be slightly disappointed that i didnt have my own place - but otherwise she would be so shocked at how well i function and how confident i am and how happy i am, and shocked that i now actually want to live a life.

im also, as i said, making an effort to actually give a fuck again. im gonna start caring about things and im not gonna shut up about it.

im going to be more open and honest. and im going to learn how to be me.

being vulnerable is the absolute most terrifying thing but thats my goal. thats the necessary risk. it won't come easily or naturally or right away, but i will get there.

things are looking up.

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ewaneneollav · 15 days ago

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uniquely charmed and full of childlike wonder today turning around thoughts of ur existence in my head

me to

i love u, i dont know how to decisively feel at home in the world ever again but i will not stop until either i do or i am dead. when near every moment i think i might feel, at that moment, happy, isnt accompanied by the quiet fear of something in my mind snatching it away from me. ur being gives me so much pain to sift through & wring my hands in like sand & so much joy on the other side

after u went in [to work], i started down the sidewalk, but halted & lied down in the little strip of grass by the building across the street & meditated, i think i wouldve stayed there a long time but i must go home and eat food and rest

this morning i loved the skylight & having you play music

i loved the skylight: i stared at it & could feel the past impressions of skylights & wood that i had to connect it to to make it real

during the walk with [P] i looked at many different things where i could feel the past associated impressions i had to connect the things to to make them real

i stared at the skylight & felt this tension & the need for it to be real. & i felt like i could see why so many things feel unreal: because my life has felt so impoverished of experience, i don't have this chain of referents that's been continuously replenished - a lifelong chain of periodic reminders of what a skylight is to me - i don't know if there is adequate language for this.. but...

what i mean is that a skylight is real when it touches my idea of a skylight inside of me, & then that idea proceeds to reach out & enfold itself around the actual physical thing there. & it is so for all things

it's that my life got so impoverished of experience that all my ideas of things withered

now i have to scramble for what i have, connecting all the buildings & objects to a small & desperate stockpile of memories mostly from my childhood, the memories where i formed my ideas of kitchens, blankets, beds, dressers, street signs, sidewalks, gardens, birds, bugs, gazebos, nature, morning, light streaming through window onto the carpet, people, coexistence, trinkets, drawings, safety, learning, candy, outings, meals, games, parties, perfume, stairwells,

so i was staring at the skylight & felt this tension & the need to hold the skylight & my idea of it together & felt as though this could move me to tears

but at the same time that i felt an ease & relaxation, trying to forget everything that came before the present moment & just find myself suddenly in a life that could feel as normal & pre-given as all the lives i looked in on & looked up to as a child, the undeniable realness that seemed to permeate older relatives & acquaintances as they brushed their hair with mid 2000s pop tinny from a radio

i loved having you play music: i could begin to access the feeling "[C] shows me soso much music ive never heard before!" in a sort of childlike way instead of feeling expected by myself to have already scoured life

sometimes, with a little worry, i contemplate the possibility that, as yet, it's almost impossible for me to stop dissociating if i don't rather consistently surround myself with a fairly limited range of familiar stimuli

almost like my mind is still so accustomed to a certain little world that i just genuinely dont know how to fully process my own presence outside of it, & that for me there's simply no venturing off into the world & crash-landing anywhere & feeling alert there, new there, non-dissociative there

almost like i risked my sanity by coming here, not even realizing how much of a risk i was taking with it - reaching into the constellation of things by which i know myself & stirring them up more vigorously than i might have been able to take - outright losing track of myself, losing myself

im glad that im here though. its all just tentative & speculative thoughts i have

night dolls with hairspray & certain vektroid albums as anchors back to contiguous older selves ; the old brick buildings hidden in these music

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battlemaiden13 · 2 years ago

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Heya hun! Just finished binge reading the house next door (took me like 3 days frfr) and i was wondering if its still updating? I quite enjoyed it and was wondering if its still an active work :)

Also, im gonna just throw in a request for a flustered but silently needy Axe, up to you what you write but id prefer it if him and the y/n arent in a relationship just yet, but hes pinning and it shows ;)

Yeah HND is still updating! I'm taking a bit of a break but I will get back to it. Here's your request, I hope it's ok, it was good to do some writing again.

“Axe? Axe~” their sweet voice sung out drawing my attention down to their short frame. I blinked a few times trying to get my bearings as they smiled up at me. I had no idea where we were, I had blanked out but seeing their face instantly made me feel at ease.

“heya kid” I greeted, smiling softly as their face lit up.

“Come sit down, you’ve been standing way too long” they said, slowly and gently grabbing my hand and dragging me off to a seat nearby. My eyelights darted down to our hands. They were so small my larger hand encompassed theirs completely. Humans had become so small and fragile since the underground and they were no different. I could easily lift them up or pin them down with little effort and still I let them lead me to a seat as they kindly helped me down onto the couch.

They stood in front of me with a kind, patient smile on their face. They always looked so kind.

“Do you know where you are Axe?” they asked. I frowned. I didn’t know where we were, or why we were here. I had obviously been spacing out before. I shook my head feeling angry with myself.

“Hey, it’s ok!” they rushed to say grabbing my hands and making me look up at them “I was getting new clothes. Do you like them?” they asked, standing up and letting their hands slide out of mine. I nodded. The clothes looked good. They hugged the humans form just right with a blue hoodie that looked very familiar for some reason.

“Now we match!” they declared confusing me for a moment before I glanced down. The hoodie was the same as mine. Not exactly but it was close.

“did you . . . ?” I started not sure where I was going

“It took forever to hunt one down but I’m so happy!” they said grabbing my arm and hugging it to their chest

“Now you will have no trouble finding me, Although” they giggled, a sweet sound that made my bones feel warm “Don’t you think we look like a couple?” they said. My skull instantly heating up as my soul skipped a beat. I turned away from the human. I had to. I know they didn’t really mean anything by the comment but with them pressing against me and talking about dating it was taking everything in me not to kiss them.

To push them down on this couch and pin their hands above their head, leaving bite marks all over their soft body as they writhed under me before picking them up and placing them on my hardened magic. But that couldn’t happen.

We were friends. I knew that much. I also knew I wanted more. We could never date because of my condition but I wanted them more than I’d ever wanted anyone.

“Come on big guy. Crooks will be waiting for us” The human said gently, pulling me back to my feet and leading me through the store. I hoped they could see my magic. My skull was still warm when we found my brother but I couldn’t take my eyelights of the human. The way they laughed and smiled, how kind they were to me and Papyrus, their everything. I wanted them so badly it had begun to hurt.

#horrortale #horrortale sans #horrortale x reader #small writing

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aibouart · 1 year ago

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I hope this isn't a weird ask to send but:

I related really heavily to your post about what vent art has done for your psyche. Less specifically with vent art and more a vent blog where I privated the whole thing and would make unrebloggable vent posts (unrebloggable just in case if anything broke and slipped out of confinement)

I've had two of those kinds of blogs. Both ended up just being a negative confirmation bias zone for me to spiral out of control just if I looked at a post.

I'd see the timestamps and remember what made me make those posts and it'd make me lose myself all over again.

The second time I made the blog I told myself I wouldn't read back on the posts but 1) I cannot hold myself accountable to not do that so I did it and 2) the frequency of the vents ended up just achieving the same end result

Vent art for me is so much more work that it's rare, and I usually do end up very pleased with the end result and art typically helps more bc I can't just make art as quickly as I can make text posts. There's still some vent art that hurts like hell to look back on ofc but I understand that feeling of like...this art coming from someplace real.

I think learning to realize that drawing stuff without meaning can hold a meaning of its own (sharing joy, whimsy, etc etc with the world to remind ppl it's not all bad, or give them a safe place to indulge in something bright and colorful instead of the horrors of whatever reality they've currently got) can help ease into accepting the non-vent art as just as important and meaningful

It's tricky, but all of us who suffer more from our own vent posts/vent art can heal and move forward and find meaning in other expressions of other feelings.

Vent stuff can be such a powerful tool, so I'm glad you're learning how to be more careful with it. I wish you nothing but upward momentum from here!

thank you for the message, it does mean a lot to me to find others who went through something as similar that i did--even though it fuckin SUUUCKS

for me, ig my speedy art backfires with vent art. i have done pieces that i took (more) time with:

but for the most part it looked like this:

and they'd get posted within like 10 mins of each other (sometimes less)

i definitely think art doesn't need meaning to exist, but you spend so long hearing "what do you think the meaning behind this is" or making art like i had been doing that DID hold some meaning and i started to just feel like my own work was exempt.

it's hard to move past vent art and accept my work as worthy of existing even if it's just some pink furry staring at the camera doing nothing, instead of my sona ripping itself apart because of some deeper meaning. cuz like i do like my vent art, i think the limited colours i would use is cool and the compositions or expressions are intriguing, but getting into the headspace to draw all that just isn't worth the price anymore. but it sort of makes my current art feel shallow or empty.... like im not "trying", for sure.

and granted majority of people on this blog haven't even seen my vent art either it's not like anyone else's perception is skewed. it's just like a personal issue i've had as i recover from vent art/blogs WUURGG

but despite all that i draw what i want anyways, nothing can really stop me from doing that. i just kind of ruminate the whole time JKBSDBFBSD

thank you again for reaching out, i forgot i made the post when i woke up this morning and immediately panicked but nothing bad happened so i am feeling ok about sharing..!!

#text #my art #ask #anon #long post #thank you i like not being alone even if going through that shit was horrible

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meet-at-tycho · 1 year ago

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sorryyy its late and i am filled with joy and whimsy. i love them so much, my sibling always gets annoyed with me cuz theyre all i talk about.. can you blame me? to have that vast boring nothingness shift into excitement and happiness and real true love? if you were me, youd talk about it too

its so funny cuz my life seems to move in cycles, familiar patterns that ive grown really sick of.. traumatizing and terrible, horrible bloody mess.... and then the most long drawn out boring slice of life youve ever witnessed. trauma! nothing! trauma! nothing! really tired of that.. i never thought that my nothing could be broken with joy, isnt that strange? for once, im not really hurting anymore. when i do hurt, i can handle it on my own and let go, and if its too much then i know im safe to express it

ive come such a long way, i dont tend to see myself positively, but.. its hard not to be proud. guys it turns out all you need to be happy is like. LOVE isnt that so corny isnt that so unbelievably predictable... APPARENTLY its true, i guess it feels different when yr actually experiencing it firsthand

im like on the verge of tears right now but. theres no sweeter joy than this, its so fucking BIZARRE. how did it happen this way? all the little bits and pieces that fell into place, delivered me angels and made me whole again.. cheesy, i know im being cheesy but i cant help it!! im sweet on them as often as i can be but theres still a lot of things i just.. dont have the strength to say directly. so i say them here, im sure only one of you will see this anyways. but i dont need either of you to see it, just speaking my feelings out into open air eases my mind a bit more

sometimes im like wow! theres no way this is healthy im . can i really experience true love? love that doesnt hurt? love thats REAL? as much as im tempted to deny it, im living it every day!!! i wake up and theyre both there to greet me, isnt that sweet? the first people i speak to when i wake up, the last people i say goodnight to when i go to sleep

i think i just need someone, i think im the kind of person that just.. ive been alone for a while, its OKAY its whatever, ive definitely grown used to it but. i thrive when im with them, its so? maybe all i need is someone else to keep me here.. ive got two!!!!!

maybe thats not clear enough

the way id get through that droning loneliness is escapism, nonstop daydreams and dissociation, i was barely here. only to eat and take care of my body a little bit, then its back to fantasy, because .. theres people who love me in my dreams! but.. im honestly finding it so hard to slip back into that habit now. its scary, because its whats kept me safe. hiding in fiction has kept me safe, kept me calm, happy.. but i cant shake it out of my head!!!! any time i try to fall back into those routines, the only thing i can think of is THEM.. like yeah this is great and all but.. i dont want to be trapped in my head anymore!!! theyre out there, i want to be out there..

if im honest? its terrifying. im forced to come to terms with ME as a person, who i am, something ive neglected to acknowledge for my entire life, but. im so completely wrapped up in my love for them that i hardly think about that!!!!! for once, it sorta almost feels like time is moving how it should be.. like every day that passes is different, every day that passes is SPECIAL. it hurts me to say this, but i think i love being alive? can you imagine that? how is it possible that two strangers could just.. fall into my life one day and before i even know it, im healing, im happy, im whole. MAKE ME SICKK its so foul. its almost pathetic!!! is that really all ive needed? this whole time, and i couldnt find ONE proper candidate throughout 20 years of life? its hard to really be upset about it, cuz.. ive got them now. thats all that matters

idk, i just. i think its really telling the kind of people they are, i know im only me, but.. for what its worth, theyve improved my life so drastically, i wouldve never thought id see myself happy like this. they do that for me, they do that and so much more. i love you 💞

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caluski · 1 year ago

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i think everything else couldve been much worse. i couldve been unemployed for far longer, i couldve ran out of money way sooner, i couldve became homeless and spiraled into addictions and such. all that stuff. but with loneliness........ in the end, its strangely comforting to think that it was really all there could be. i thought about it during my walk... and you know, while im not much better yet - i still only really talk to people at work about work things - at least i can open my mouth and hear my own voice, speaking. because having like.. no one, absolutely no one to talk to, being completely silent for days, its so horrifying.

at some point, i think it must have been december, maybe late november, i couldnt even bring myself to talk without breaking down in tears. it all feels a little foggy, now, blurred into one, but talking to myself, trying to sing on my own, anything, it felt like nothing, except for maybe trying to not let my throat go rusty. i cant even tell anymore whether i went insane or not, whether my family really couldnt tell just how desperate i was to talk to someone, to speak, like about anything, anything at all. and other than blaming myself for most of how it ended up being, i think the resentment for everyone choosing to leave me on my own will linger over my heart for a very long time. i literally openly begged people to talk to me, to see me, whenever, wherever, and yet... i cant blame anyone for not wanting to be around someone whos constantly suicidal, but i still thought that there would be at least one person who'd choose to stay and wait it out with me. i wish things were different. i know i shouldnt be surprised that no one waited for me, as life goes on and people move past you, especially if their feelings for you were never really strong to begin with... but man. i cant even really count posting on tumblr as talking - after all, most of the time, i am just here talking about myself, to myself, and im aware of that. just screaming out a million times i wanna die, i wanna die, i wanna die, doesnt exactly count as conversation. it only really felt like writing out messages on the walls of an abandoned building, where you kinda hope someone will come across it and read it... but also, its not like they'll seek you out to save you, no matter how desperate you get. more likely is that they'll nod at it and go, "oh, big mood" and keep walking.

i wish it was already over. i wish i could find.. maybe not even "new friends" or whatever, but something to ease my mind with, to help me shift focus on something useful. its really hard to motivate yourself to do anything, when youre depressed. even now, i feel like work is really draining me... i can only pray that i will find motivation in me sometime soon, or this wont end well either. sorry this isnt very optimistic of me. i dont know where i was going with this one either. i think i should just go back to work now

#pogaduchy

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amiracleuwu · 2 months ago

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A Conversation with my Father

Maybe i DO know

That im not in love

I just crave

What i have not been given

Oh but i CRAVE

Delicacy

Softness

Empathy

Touch

Closure

Intimacy

Love

I crave love from a man

Because i have not been given one

I deeply crave it

Regardless of whom

I know thats not good for my heart

And i DO fight it

I DO cradle myself

Tell her its alright

Tell her you can fight the desire

And move with thought

I was denied all i needed

By my first love

My dad

And i sound pathetic

Oh, i never wanted to be the type of girl to be 'fatherless'

I never wanted to be the girl that suffered the lack of fatherly love

I couldnt imagine growing up into this

Always going on a rampage

Desperate for love

For male connection

Oh, i never wanted to be this desperate

Oh, i never wanted to be this way

Every year it get constantly harder

I get older

And my childhood flaws start to present themselves clearer everyday

Yes, dad

Your detachment fucked me over

Your empty chair remind me of how i was never enough as a daughter

How i was always meant to be not loved

You made the decision for the both of us long before i knew how to spell 'Dad'

I cried too much

I wrote too much

You HEARD

You SAW

You stayed quiet

Was this your entire plan all along?

I just need some love

I still need the love

but im supposed not to chase after it in immorality

Why did you make it so hard for me to feel closure?

To feel safe?

To feel reassured?

I NEED to be loved

I could die in despair if i died without loving and being love

I NEED touch

I'd BEG for a hug

I'd beg for a kiss

I'd beg for a sidetalk with you about anything

Anything

I just want to know

That you love me

IM SO FUCKING CUFFED WITH RAGE

I DEAL WITH YOUR EMPTINESS

IM EXPECTED TO BE MORAL

YET YOU MAKE IT SO HARD

AND IM PIT UNDER THE EXPECTATIONS

I BEG MYSELF DAILY

TO LET ME BE LOVED

BUT I KNOW ITS SHALLOW

I KNOW IT WONT FULFILL ME

YET I STILL BEG

I JUST WANT A FUCKING TASTE OF LOVE

ANYTHING

ILL TAKE YOUR CRUMBS AND FEAST ON THEM LIKE A PEASANT

I'LL GIVE YOU EXCUSES IF YOU ONLY TRY

TRY TO COME BACK AND LOVE ME

TELL ME YOU LOVE ME

YOU WANT ME IN YOUR LIFE

YOU'RE PROUD OF ME

YOU'LL TAKE CARE OF ME

TAKE CARE OF ME FUCKING PLEASE

EASE MY FEARS

HALT MY THOUGHTS

I PROMISE I WILL FORGIVE YOU IF YOU PROMISE TO TRY

PLEASE

FUCKING PLEASE

MY MIND TELLS ME YOU'RE DENYING ME BECAUSE IM COMPETENT

IT TELLS ME IM FAULTY

IT REMINDS ME OF EVERYTHING I LACK

AND THATS WHY YOU DONT LOVE ME

IT TELLS ME THAT MAYBE YOU SAY THE SAME

THAT YOU PROMISE TO LOVE ME IF I PROMISE TO BE A CERTAIN WAY

TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT ME TO BE AND I WILL

IT KEEPS FUCKING REMINDING ME

PLEASE TELL ME ITS NOT THE TRUTH

I BEG FOR YOUR UNCONDITIONAL LOVE

BUT WHY DO YOU LET ME BEG IF ITS UNCONDITIONAL

WILL YOU EVEN EVER STOP MY BEGGING AND LOVE ME IN ANYWAY?

PLEASE

THINK AGAIN

YOU'RE THE SMARTEST PERSON I KNOW PLEASE TELL ME ITS NOT THAT WAY

ITS EITHER IM TOO FUCKING MESSED UP OR YOU GAVE UP

DID YOU GIVE UP ON ME?

PLEASE TELL ME PLEASE TELL ME

PLEASE TELL ME YOU'LL HOLD ON TO ME

PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.PLEASE.

PLEASE TELL ME YOU'LL BE THERE WHEN IT GETS DARKER THAN I CAN SEE THROUGH

PLEASE TELL ME YOU'LL BE THERE WHEN I NEED TO REMEMBER IM LOVED BY *YOU*

PLEASE I THOUGHT IT WAS TOO HARD FOR YOU AS WELL

AND YOU'D LOVE ME WHEN IT GETS EASIER

PLEASE I TOLD THE OTHERS YOU WERE TRYING YOUR BEST

PLEASE I TOLD MYSELF YOU WILL LOVE ME THE SAME AS THE DAY YOU FIRST HELD ME

PLEASE

WHAT YOU FELT THEN DIDNT CHANGE RIGHT?

IT ONLY INCREASED RIGHT?

RIGHT!?

IT ONLY INCREASED AS YOU SAW ME GROW OLDER DAY BY DAY AND BE YOUR LITTLE PRINCESS RIGHT DADDY?

PLEASE FUCKING PLEASE ANSWER ME

I USUALLY DOUBT MYSELF BUT FOR YOU THIS TIME I WOULD NEVER

WHAT WAS THERE AT THE START DOESNT CHANGE AT THE END RIGHT?

right?

I was trying my best

I told my dolls all about you

They had their dads too

I made them just like you

But just like i wanted you to be near

You

Hurt

Too

Well

Worse

Than

Any

Enemy

please I dont

I dont want to see you die and leave with me questions unanswered

with wells in drought

I have well of love for you

And well for you to love me in drought

please

tell you'll answer me when i

wake up

#trauma poetry #poetry #original poem #poems on tumblr #daddy issues #trauma dump #oh well #fuck my liiiiife #missing #lacking

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i-hate-myself-and-i-wanna-die · 3 months ago

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I’m so lonely… I’ll always be alone… i was accepting that and then u came along and fucked it up… u made me hope again that someone could care for me… and now.. now you’re just disappearing… every day a little more… till the only thing i have are memories of feelings. Feelings i was trying to erase and overcome. I don’t wanna trust anyone ever again. It’s just a never ending cycle of pain. Pain is the only feeling that is not a memory. Pain is real and pain becomes rage. Rage becomes hate. Hate towards my self. I hate my self cause I allowed me to be vulnerable once again. I long for the feeling of love so much that i always forget how it ends and how stupid it is. I’m so fucking naive and i will always be cause deep down im just hurt. I’m filled with hurt. Hurt that becomes rage and then hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate.

I hate myself and i wanna die. Still… i hate myself and i wish i had the courage to just end it all. Hahahahaha… January 24th was 9 years since this acc was created.. 9 years of hurt… 9 years of hate…. 9 years of hope that always crumbles to dust.

I’ll always hope and that is why I’ll never end it all.

I disgust me…. Even as I’m writing this… im begging for u to love me… that’s the only thing i want really… i just wanna be loved… im so tired of this life… nothing makes sense and it never will… i ready have no idea what im doing and where im going and why im doing anything.. im so fucking tired… I’m tired of thinking… i want my brain to just shut down…. I’m so tired of life. When will it get better? When?

Aaaaaaa fuck this. It all comes back to u. The first person that made me feel. The first person that fucked me up. The first person that manipulated me and forged me into this sad and hurt fucking human being. Everyone after u just helped the pain grow. But you… you started it all… and if I haven’t met u then someone else would have been the start… maybe i would be a bit older tho… maybe i would have been a bit more fucking capable of understanding and moving forward. Maybe if I wasn’t a kid u wouldn’t have fucked me up so much and maybe i would love myself. All of these maybes make me hate u even more. I HATE YOU SO FUCKING MUCH. I WISH U A PAINFUL LIFE AND AN EVEN MORE PAINFUL DEATH. I REALLY HOPE U ARE ALONE AND I HOPE YOURE HURTING AS MUCH AS I AM.

I HATE YOU.

BECAUSE OF U I STARTED HATING MY SELF.

You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me. I hate u so fucking much… i wish u never feel at ease again. I wish u all the worst. I don’t know where u are and what you’re doing right now. But hopefully you’re dead. I hope you’re dead so you can never hurt anyone else ever again.

ITS BEEN 9 YEARS….

It’s been 9 years….. you really fucked me up… no one really knows how i feel and no one will ever know…. No one will ever read this. I hate u.

I hate u cause u made me hate myself.

I hate u cause u destroyed me.

I hate u cause i was a kid.

I hate u cause i was never a kid after u.

I hate everything about u.

I hate u.

I hate my life after u.

I hate the choices i made because of u.

I hate how u made me feel.

I hate how u make me feel.

I hate u so much.

The last time we met… i was still a kid.

That kid asked u for one last hug cause even tho u were the most disgusting human being that kid loved u. When I asked u said “id rather not”.

I still remember how that felt.

That’s how i feel right now.

Lost.

U were EVERYTHING to me but “you’d rather not”.

I’ve never written so much about u.

I remember writing u pages of how u made me feel and how happy i was and giving them to u. I remember buying u one flower… i was a kid. I couldn’t afford more that one. I remember that flower man and what he said to me when i didn’t even have enough for one flower… it was a blue rose. It smelled nice…. It was so pretty… u didn’t deserve it. I have never written so much about u.

I guess the feelings just triggered me.

U still make me feel very insecure.

I’ll always hate my self because of u.

I’ll always think about u when im meeting someone new….. that’s happening right now.. hahahaha….

You’re like the monster under my bed… the only difference is that u existed. You hurt me.

You’re still hurting me from time to time.. time like now.

I feel better tho…. After writing all of this… i feel lighter…

I don’t hate myself that much now.

I know I deserve to be free from u.

I deserve to be free and loved and happy but it’s not easy… it’s been a long time… it’s not easy at all…

I hate u…

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smokesynthesised · 6 months ago

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After 8 long years! 2 fucked up relationships, broken dreams, broken bones, hopes and everything a guy can lose, losing every bit of it, losing every bit of my sanity, am back at writing, am back at getting numb, and getting high af! Just to feel normal! I mean it! Normal.

Day1

Im trying.

Like I have always been trying.

Trying, to get past my heavy chest, heavy heart, burden of hurting the only people who have ever loved me, my mom and my dad! My shield, my sword. My king and my queen.

Honestly, it took me 3 decades!

30 fucking years.

To see, and to feel how diabolically, I treated them all my life.

And to be here? To be hurt by the people who never cared, but only acted/faked/deceived their emotions, their feelings, I think, its a small price! An insignificant amount! I mean it. But it's the price, I am ready to pay!

I know I realised it tooo fucking late in life that first love should have been them!

Not them whores, not them wannabes, not them boys asking me to be careless and carefree!

I'm glad, i realised it, before it was too late.

I'm glad, that now I really know, how they wanted me to feel, and how I made them feel.

I am ashamed of myself, for a lot of reasons, a lot of things.

I hate myself for not listening to them.

For not doing anything, EVER, to put a smile on their faces.

I deserved it. And I'm glad, karma didn't just serve me, but this time, it forced my eyes open.

I have no idea, if things were still the same, even after today, it lowkey gets me scared, just the idea, of not being able to realise this, it leaves a scar, and a feeling of disgust, for myself.

But, im happy, im really really really happy, that because of those whores and those assholes, im finally starting to understand how I have made them feel, and that now, I can finally start acting in the right direction.

I am glad them girls left me sooo deep in this void, that it was actually fucking dark, pitch black, and that it would have took me another 30 decades to smile and be happy irl.

Thank-you Mansi, thankyou sakshi, thankyou shubhita, thankyou sonam si ngh, thankyou Abhijeet Singh, for treating me like shit when all I ever did was to put your life at ease, and comfort you with everything you desire, and not caring about me, even for a second.

Thankyou guys.

You have done something really great for me here.

Thankyou.

Special thanks to mansi bisht, Abhijeet Singh, the two people, whom I believed to be my sun and moon, to actually show me that light in that hellhole you left no void in your fake promises, your lies, deceptions!

Thankyou sonam singh, for not being there! At all, and choosing someone who couldn't treat you right, someone who make you so much in bare minimum. For thinking you were the one who was hurt. Like always!

I was wrong! About so many things, thankyou mansi bisht, thankyou, for today, and the five long years, where you were with me 24x7x365-sundays.

I loved you, like mommy and dadyjee love ke, definitely more.

But now, i know better.

Buckle up Bois and girls.

Your time is coming soon! Power to you.

At last, like every fucking dark night, the bright morning light, the sun! My mom and dad! I can't thank you enough! I want you to know that I love you, but I was just not mentally capable of seeing the things you do for me, even after I put you in the worst of the situations.

In situations, no parent has ever been tested for.

Thankyou for never giving up on me.

I promise, to be a better man! And a happy man! I am ashamed of myself, so much, that I can't even text you this. Can't text you how much I'm thankful, to have parents like you

I wish, I don't fail to become only 0.1% of what you are. The purest souls. The most beautiful couple, my ideal couple, my life goals.

I promise, i wont fall in the same hell hole, ever again! Because I know, this time, i won't stop tracing your footsteps. And become, a good guy.

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thundrgrnd · 2 years ago

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Shalom

whats ur sun,moon,rising, mercury, venus, and north node?

cancer sun, scorpio moon, aries rising, gemini mercury & venus, and north node in virgo.

where are you currently based out of?

fairfax, va.

what is the culture of your family?

interdependent in deed even not in word. im a middle child of five kids. we believe in community and being there for each other however we can be.

describe the impact that your heritege has had on your mediums?

living as a third culture kid who was born in the us to nigerian parents, moved to South Africa, raised there, and then moved back to the US has done a number on my brain, but for the most part it has opened my mind to the different ways everything comes back to community - its all about love, honesty, vulnerability. i try to be as transparent as possible in my work and really say what i mean.

list all of your creative disciplines?

all?????

writing, singing & songwriting, bass guitar, crochet.

how long have you practiced each?

forever, since i was a child, since 2020, started crochet as a child but picked it up again when i was in the psych ward.

what drives you?

impacting others. sharing the human experience.

what are you passionate about?

is it lame if this is also impacting others and sharing the human experience?

who in your personal life and the artistic world has had a profound influence on your work?

my mom: she is honest and true, a golden human. we’re honest in different ways about different things, but she inspires me to come as i am and ease off the pressure i put on myself.

florence and the machine: the first cd i ever bought and loved was between two lungs (deluxe) in 2010. the writing, the imagery, the vocals, the delivery altogether inspires me the same way it did when i was 12. i still listen to that album, although i have it on vinyl now.

lcd sound system: making noise and saying shit and being like “ok, this rocks” is basically how i would like my music making experience to go, they make it seem possible.

what is your greatest accomplishment thus far?

playing my first show in new york where we finished the set and got asked for an encore. i was like, “we have no more songs!” and they were like “play concrete again!” and everyone was chanting my name at the end. brain melting. never forgetting that one. idk if that counts as greatest accomplishment, though - i think surviving 2023 takes the top spot.

current profession?

i am a musician and marketing and communications coordinator at a health equity nonprofit.

where do you see yourself in the foreseeable future of 5 and then 10 years?

5 years: hopefully debt free, maybe having released a couple more albums, hair long.

10 years: i can’t think this far out man. i thought i wouldn’t make it past 17 for a long time so now thinking about the future is kinda mind melting.

who would you like to collaborate with?

people who love me back and mean it. anyone who’s willing to hear me out. anyone who believes in the collective and community as the answer to capitalism. basically, if we’re on the same frequency, let’s make shit.

what does creative expression mean to you?

recently it’s been trying to be nonjudgmental in how my artistic practice takes shape. just appreciating myself as an artist and recognizing my attempts at making good art are still shows of me making art, period. showing up as myself and letting whatever comes out come out.

what does it mean to be a woman or non binary earthling of color in america?

to fight some system every day.

what does it mean to be a femme or non binary artist of color in america?

to fight a different kind of system every day.

how has this created a barrier in your life and career?

being new to music i was definitely swept off my feet by a record label who ended up withholding money from me and refused to help me during a desperate period of time. i strongly believe that i would not have been treated the way i was if i was not a black woman.

what does creating revolutionary change in the word through art mean to you?

showing up as myself and committing to doing it every day. it’s one thing at a time. loving harder despite it all.

where should we start in dismantling the mechanisms of oppression across the globe?

with your friends. if they aren’t with it, find new ones.

what do you want to see in the creative world now, and in future generations?

more people finding their voice, more people leaning into the fact that art existed for tens of thousands of years before agriculture. we thought it was more important to paint than it was to feed ourselves efficiently, and i’m not saying we need to forget to eat but sustaining ourselves off art, returning to a life of practice… i’d love to see it.

what communitiy do you most resonate with currently?

those who identify themselves to be both lovers and fighters.

bisexual. bi as in one and another, instead of one of two. all genders are welcome at this party.

where can we find your work?

#the underground #shalom #tumblr girls #indie music #music zine

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mangozcat · 3 years ago

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— hello dear readers. this story hits a bit closer to home than the rest. this story, while yes it’s a smut for all of you to read and enjoy, is also one for those bigger girls that just don’t feel like they belong. all of the descriptions you’ll find for the oc are descriptions of my own body and how i see it when i look at myself in the mirror. i just want everyone to know, YOU ARE PERFECT! you are beautiful and loved and you shouldn’t worry about if you fit the standards of people around you. if you don’t fit YOUR standards, that’s what matters. if YOU want to cause change, go for it! but don’t allow others to make you feel the need to change, because you are lovely as you are!!! i love your big thighs and tummy that causes a little bulge if you wear high wasted jeans. i love your smile and your messy hair with split ends. i love your boobs!! (that sounds bad im sorry) and theyre NEVER too big or too small. don’t be ashamed to wear extra big bras or extra big clothes and don’t get yourself down. i love you :)

tw: unhealthy body image

w: softer smut (meaning it isn’t entirely complete and has an open ending for ur imagination), praise, big-bodied reader (so the descriptions during smut are to fit her body so it might be hard to imagine yourself as her), jealous reader, you might dislike this reader because she has a lot of insecurities but tbh i find her realistic lmfao, body worship, jaem is like legit hottest painter ever pls, sexual tension is real oml, slow, unprotected bc like jaemin cum inside is so hot i cry every time, very long but it didnt need to be, i havent written in months pls be nice this might be awful

ok just to like clarify, im still trying to get back into smut so this is more of an easing into it? its quite long and most of it is just story + teasing, sorry to leave anyone hanging :( i just wanna kinda ease back into it, but i still think this is pretty hot tbh lmao

jaemin’s good at painting.

you recognized his talent the day you met him; varying shades of pink and purple mixing with the bright yellow shades and orange hues that created a beautiful sunset. you’d seen it on his canvas that he was carefully dragging up the stairs of the sweet and small cafe across from your college.

then, you saw that same colorful piece strung proudly on the wall behind your favorite table, or well, your now favorite table.

your favorite ever since the painting had been placed there.

he’s gifted; has a talent that few have and/or ever will have within their lifetime, regardless of practice. the saying might be practice makes perfect, but you know no amount of practice will make a painter as perfect as jaemin is.

his brush strokes are soft, yet precise, and he blends color effortlessly. in all your combined hours of watching him work, you’ve never once seen him make a mistake. all of his work turns out perfect, breathtaking, and you’re never not in awe of his abilities.

today, however, you’ve discovered a new talent of his.

body painting.

something you never thought you’d be interested in, yet here you are, watching as his brush draws elegant lines across the toned stomach of his model. her breasts are on full display and while you’re fascinated by the scene, you can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy underneath.

her face remains blank, eyes closed in relaxation and body completely still aside from the occasional ticklish twitch. you wonder how she remains so effortlessly composed, even while knowing that such a beautiful man has his hands so close to every area she typically hides from the outside world, and his eyes darting across every expanse of beautiful pale skin.

not to mention, her body is beautiful, and this is something you cannot deny. she has thicker thighs, though still remaining on the smaller side. her arms are small, but laced with some muscle from her obvious workout routine. her stomach has little fat, though still enough to remind prying eyes that she is, in fact, healthy and eating well. she has perky breasts, but they’re smaller and more fitting to her form, with tiny nipples that stand right up every time jaemin’s brush dances over her chest.

and her face- oh, her face. plump lips and rosy cheeks, hazel eyes, deep brown hair pushed back into a low bun that leaves a few stray strands to frame her face.

jealousy.

there’s that twinge again.

the feeling of anger and envy and desperation all mixed into one, laced thickly with insecurity. insecurity because you know- you know you’ll never compare to her model physique.

korean beauty standards are tough, and yet, that girl seems to fit all of them without trouble. however, as you glance down at your stomach, seeing the bulge in your shirt from where the lower half of your abdomen juts out and rests over the band of your jeans, tears fill your eyes. you know you have big thighs, thighs that shake and jiggle and erupt a loud pop! when you slap them. you know you have sunken eyes from lack of sleep and overwhelming anxiety and puffy cheeks. you know your hair has split ends and is unevenly cut at some lengths, and you know your breasts are larger than others.

you wish you didn’t think like this, but when allowed time to think and remain trapped in your own head for long enough, you have no choice. you don’t fit the standards, you don’t fit jaemin’s standards, and you doubt you fit the standards of anyone in the world.

you hadn’t been paying attention for the remainder of jaemin’s session- not that you wanted to- and had begun to drift off. soon enough, when you heard jaemin and his model begin to converse quietly, almost as if they were trying to make sure you couldn’t hear, you figured your mind was slowly killing you and simply murmured out need fresh air, before you were scurrying out of the room.

there was something unsettling about being in love with an artist. someone that could find beauty in everything and anything, and make the best out of the worst situation.

but when being in love with an artist, among several other insecurities, one always lingered longer than others.

could he find the beauty in you?

if jaemin did feel the same way about you as you felt about him, could he find a way to fix the imperfections? could he repair the broken image you’d been looking at in the mirror for years? could he find a way to mend all the pain, close all the wounds, and top off the scars with pretty, punctual bows as opposed to what you had now: ragged and mangled skin?

of course, it’s all hypothetical, and it all comes back to two questions. could he love you? could he find the beauty in you?

could he love someone incapable of loving themself, and find the beauty in something that has been left out to rot and rust? the beauty even you cannot seem to find, regardless of how many times you attempt to.

you didn’t realize you were shivering. the air was frigid and windy, and you were sure your cheeks had turned a rosy pink due to the exposure. you felt a cough bubble up in your throat and hugged yourself tighter, eyes staring up at the sky.

if jaemin were here, he’d call the sky his blank canvas.

too bad he isn’t- too bad his attention is on the girl with a perfectly sculpted body and a pretty face, and an even prettier voice; and you were sure she had a pretty laugh and a pretty personality to top it off.

jealousy.

“i can’t escape it, can i…” you murmur quietly, referring to the burning feeling blossoming in your gut. a feeling that was traveling through your veins like blood and spreading to every place in your body like wildfire- until it reached your fingertips and you wished you could do something with it.

when you heard his voice, however, it practically fizzled out and you were left frozen once again, lips quivering.

“awfully cold out,” he says, that wistful tone to his voice he seemed to always have. you felt a jacket being placed over your shoulders, and your heart further sank at the idea that it might not fit if you were to attempt to actually wear it.

“you should head back inside, don’t want your pretty face damaged by the cold.”

when hd noticed you weren’t returning his stare, he gently, hesitantly, reached a hand out and cupped your cheek opposite of him. then, as softly as he could, he tugged the skin until you were leaning into his touch, finally meeting his eyes.

“what’s wrong, cherry blossom?”

cherry blossom.

the nickname he’d given you once he discovered your favorite tree- and later created several pieces of art that now adorned your bedroom. the pretty pink petals falling down onto the bright green grass, matched with soft handwriting that read a cherry blossom for my cherry blossom on the bottom.

“she’s pretty,” you muttered, almost disdainfully. you felt awful. here you were, hating on a girl because she was pretty. because no matter how sweet she might be, it doesn’t change the fact that she’s pretty and you don’t think you are- envy has you wrapped around its’ evil finger. “don’t you think?”

“who’s pretty?” jaemin asks curiously, a comforting hand tracing circles into your back.

you withheld a scoff, feeling tears of frustration prick at your eyes. your brown eyes; eyes no match for the beauty of her hazel ones.

“the girl you were painting,” you murmur sadly, trying to ignore the familiar twinge eating away at you.

you didn’t want to compare yourself to the girl, but you couldn’t help it. it happened without you even realizing, and once you figured out what was happening, you were far too gone and the feeling had invaded your mind long enough to twist the facts.

jaemin hums, watching your expression closely.

“well yes, she is pretty,” and once your face falls and your eyes drop to your shoes at his confession, he shakes his head, “but so are you.”

“while she might be the art i painted today, you’re the art i admire every day,” he says slowly, tugging you into his chest. you feel pride swelling in your chest and the tears in your eyes soon turned to tears of indescribable happiness.

“don’t let the fact that i painted her get to your head, yeah?” he whispers, “i really didn’t even look at her unless it was to make sure the piece blended together.”

“she’s just so perfect…” you whimper sadly, “and i guess she just made me realize- well i just felt so ugly next to her.”

you felt a kiss on the top of your head, making your eyes close in content.

“you are not ugly, cherry blossom.”

while you weren’t entirely sure if this entire conversation was a confession of sorts or just friendly reassurance, you didn’t want to overthink it. his words pierced your heart in all the right ways- and you really didn’t want to mess it up.

—

you hadn’t seen jaemin do any more body painting work- or even mention the topic- in a month. he seemed so passionate about it, so his sudden disinterest was shocking to you.

of course, you appreciated it considering you were his assistant and ended up watching him work 99% of the time.

but, still, you did worry deep down.

what if you crushed one of his dreams with your own selfish insecurities?

you still remember when he came running into your apartment with a book on body painting, rushing to explain the art. you really hadn’t understood a word he said at the time, too invested in admiring that one look he always adorned when he was obsessed with something.

and obsession that you envied at the time- could he ever be that obsessed over you?

at some point, could you fill his mind like he filled yours? invade his senses like he invaded your own? if you had one aspiration in your entire lifetime, this would be it: wishing to be someone’s- no, not just anybody’s, you wanted to be na jaemin’s obsession.

a feat that definitely isn’t simple or easy, for that matter.

“have you seen my thin brush?” jaemin suddenly screeches, running into the living room of his (practically yours, too) apartment. “the small one with the angled tip and black bristles?”

your mind blanked. you glanced around at the coffee table, the end tables, and the television stand before scratching your head, “not that i can recall, no.”

“shit,” he cursed, scratching his neck anxiously, “need that brush.”

“okay, this might sound stupid,” you begin, your words slow, “but do you have any extras?”

he shakes his head sadly, as if you’ve scolded him for something he promised he’d do, and later forgot about. “it’s the only brush i didn’t buy an extra of. i always keep it on my desk i didn’t think- i didn’t believe i could lose it!”

“hey, it’s alright, okay?” you whispered, raising from your spot on the couch to approach him in hopes of comforting the clearly confused and upset boy, “i’ll help you find it.”

he looked up at you, his chest heaving from panic-stricken breaths and he frowned, “yeah, yeah- okay.”

with one final comforting pat on the shoulder, you set out to jaemin’s painting room to try and find the brush. you knew which one he was talking about with the descriptions, but if it’s the same you think it is, it’s incredibly small- which will undoubtedly make it tough to find.

in the painting room, as you call it, things look… normal. just like any other painter’s workspace.

jaemin has a board to display his sketches; all hanging up by a tack and some of the pieces are scattered at odd angles. his floor is covered in tarps to protect the wood beneath, and you take note of the paint stains adorning the white material that made loud noises with every step. he had a massive canvas resting against the furthest wall, with varying shades of colors being messily thrown against the piece. perhaps that messy feel was the very thing that made it artistic in his eyes. glancing around, you noticed how every wall had little space on it, instead covered with pieces of his own work and the work of his favorite artists. then, he had a giant table shoved against the wall. there was a case laying open on top, showcasing all of his different brushes; and next to it, an array of paint tubes and cans. even more paint was beneath the table, stacked until it was touching the wood. finally, against the other wall, was his desk. the chair was pulled out at an angle, one you imagined he sat at to think, rather than be crammed up against his desk. stacks of unfinished sketches were lazily strewn around, with a few brushes between the pages. you checked each of them in hopes that the missing brush was here all along, yet you came up empty handed.

while jaemin’s desk was intriguing- well, the entire room was intriguing; all messy and yet still organized in a way only he could understand- you found yourself more interested in one of his sketches. it was another body painting sketch, but this one was… different. the figure had bigger hips and thicker thighs, large breasts, a softer circular face, with a slightly defined jawline, and her tummy was jutting out just enough for you to know: she was you.

jaemin was drawing you.

something about it made you happy, yet sad at the same time. he’d drawn all your flaws, hadn’t he? the lack of a thigh gap, the big belly, the bigger than usual breasts; everything that you were insecure about, jaemin had noticed.

in fact, he seemed to have perfectly mimicked the details. something about the situation made your eyes water sadly.

“you weren’t supposed… to see that,” jaemin sighs, eyes darting nervously across the room. you turn your head to look at him, blinking back tears. “it’s just a sketch i had for some body painting i just- i don’t know, i never finished it.”

“i was gonna ask you before that night but then i realized you probably wouldn’t want to do it.”

confidence was something you lacked, in here, standing across from jaemin in this moment, you felt like you could shrink. so it was true, he had been painting you? it was your body he imagined on full display for him as he painted, and it was your body he made adjustments for to fit, to encourage confidence and comfort.

confidence wasn’t your friend, however, jealousy most certainly was. if you didn’t take him up on his offer, would that pretty girl return to be painted again? would the art meant for your body fit hers as well as jaemin had planned for it to fit you? would it perhaps… fit her even better?

“i’ll do it,” your own voice is unrecognizable to you; raspy in anticipation and shaky from fear. “i’ll be your model, jaemin.”

his face flushed pink and he averted his gaze, scratching at the back of his neck nervously. “are you sure? it’s a lot of pressure-“

never again would you let pretty girl be jaemin’s model. never.

“i’m sure,” you said, a bit too eager.

“alright, well, we can plan a date and time, let me just grab my calendar-“

it was almost sinful how badly you wanted to be bare in front of your best friend. the best friend you desperately wished to be your lover, the best friend that also happens to be your boss, and the best friend you couldn’t live without.

this won’t change that, right?

you failed to think any further, beginning to slip out of your jacket and beginning to hastily pull the bow from the top of your blouse. with his back turned as he rummaged through his desk for a notebook, you only had one prayer running through your mind: hopefully jaemin doesn’t hate you for stripping down.

“i have an opening on the 12th, the 18th, and the 19th,” jaemin says, turning around, “the times are pretty close but i can try to move things around and adjust it to your n-“

“ah…”

his breathy little whisper has you frozen to the ground, eyes trained on the blue paint stain on the tarp beneath you. a baby blue, one you could get lost in and pretend as if you weren’t down to nothing but a bra and your fiery red underwear.

nervously, you scratched at the skin of your arm and painfully dug your fingers into the skin. he could see you- albeit not all of you- and you were completely open to his judgment.

“what about right now?” you murmured, eyes flitting up to meet his piercing stare.

they were respectful, remaining trained on your face and only your face- something you realize just how much you appreciated in the current moment. however, his stare was strong, yearning, and you found yourself looking right back down at the ground.

jaemin took a slow step forward, then another, and another, and each step made your body jump nervously and your heart beat erratically. it was only when a shadow cast itself upon that baby blue splotch on the floor did you peel your eyes back up.

at first, you avoided his eyes. you stared at his pretty cheeks, his neckline, his cute nose, and even his lips (which you got far more lost in than you care to admit).

then, as if he had discovered your tactic, he put a comforting hand under your chin and demanded you to look up with one gesture.

his eyes were soft. sweet melodies mixing with cherry blossom trees and their falling petals stared down at you, like a scene brought forth from a movie. it played in his eyes, slowly at first, then with a faster pace, and soon enough, you’d been sucked into the movie he’d created with just a glance.

dark brown met your orbs, swirling with curiosity and fear, before the tidal wave ensued and you felt like you were drowning.

drowning in him.

“can i paint you, cherry blossom?” jaemin asked sweetly, but the sultry tone in his voice had you weak in the knees. you tried not to overthink it, but the question was swirling with meanings unbeknownst to you, and the potential knowledge of it all had you excited for what was to come.

your response came out at a quiet whisper, so low that you worried if he even heard it to begin with, “yes.”

one of his hands wandered down to your hip, comfortingly tracing circles into the skin. his finger trailed up, erupting a flurry of tingles from the point. you shivered at the sensation, swallowing thickly. his finger went up and up until it ran into the fabric of your bra, and both of you stilled.

“can i take this off?” he asked, breath fanning your face. instinctively, your hand came up to his wrist and squeezed, using him as your anchor to earth- so you didn’t float away because of the bliss he never failed to give you.

nodding meekly, you felt yourself freeze when his fingers raised to toy with your bra straps. it was like he was playing with you; him the predator and you the prey; as he pulled the straps away from your skin and let them smack back against you. it was a shock of electricity and you hummed quietly.

once he deemed his toying sufficient enough, his hands finally ghosted over the back of your bra until they found the clasp in the back. he sent you one final look before you felt his hands tug at the back- and all in one motion, your bra was slipping off your shoulders and down your arms.

he helped the piece of clothing to come off, fingers softly pulling the black straps until it hit the floor with a soft thud.

your eyes remained locked with jaemin’s, preventing his eyes from wandering to the exposed skin of your chest- which, at the given moment, you were dying to cover with your arms.

jaemin took a hesitant step back before turning, heading over to his desk to look at his sketch. he grabbed a container of pink paint and reached over for a thicker brush, twirling it between his fingers as he approached you once again.

the tube made a loud noise when he squeezed it (something you actually appreciated considering it relieved some of the ill feeling that came with the awkward, tension-filled silence) and he applied a bit of the pink paint to the tip of his brush.

you expected it to be cold and uncomfortable, but you were pleasantly surprised once the brush touched the soft skin of your stomach. it was a sensation you’d never felt before, but you breathed in a surprised gasp. it was ticklish at first, the uneven feel of the differing bristle length rubbing against your skin and making you shiver.

you didn’t forget about one of jaemin’s hands on your waist. his hand was big, perfectly cupping your hip and you couldn’t help but look at your position as something more. him leaning into you, eyes darting across your skin as he painted colors upon you. one of his hands cupping you, squeezing on occasion, and fingers thrumming to their own little beat.

it was when he began to paint the skin beneath your breast that things got more heated than you expected. he’d switched to a thinner brush now, purple paint glistening on the tip before he put it to your skin. it was the eye contact he maintained while tracing the underneath of your chest; it was the feel of his breath against your face; it was how your stomach churned uneasily every time you thought about him near you- all of it, it all contributed.

you felt like you were nearing a frenzy. the need to taste his lips on yours, the need to feel his hands- not that stupid little brush- on your skin, the need to feel him in an intimate way you’ve only ever dreamed about with him; you were going crazy.

then, he switched to bare hands, and you knew he knew. he had figured you out by now, you were sure.

dots of yellow paint littered his fingertips and he felt even closer to you than you thought he was previously; close enough to touch if you were only to lean forward just the tiniest bit.

“tell me to stop,” he murmurs, finger beginning to trail circles into the skin of your abdomen. trailing upward in swirling motions before finally, his nail began to scratch sensually at your breast, and yellow painted over pink and purple. “tell me to stop and we end this right now.”

it was like he was begging. voice small and quiet, a desperate hint lacing his tone.

“don’t stop,” you said; the first thing you were confident about in months. you didn’t want him to stop, not now, not ever.

passion.

that’s what kissing jaemin was like. at first, his lips had hovered dangerously close to your own, tempting you to just pucker your own and kiss him. before you could do it, however, he had you under his spell and your lips were trapped against his own. his tongue had completely taken over you, molding with your own before he had you twisted in the feel of him, tangled in him like he was a live vine.

he made you breathless, every emotion mixing with the other until you were falling into him, hands desperately clawing at his neck, his cheek, his chin, until you were sure you’d colored him in your own paint of red marks.

“god,” he murmured against your lips, and finally, he pressed you flush against him. you knew you were covering him in paint and you could feel your breasts push up against his chest, but for once, you didn’t mind.

you felt good. he felt good. everything about the situation felt so fucking good.

“so perfect,” jaemin says softly, squeezing the flesh of your hip. he backed you up until you were against the paint table, shoving his collection of brushes to the side (which, considering he was missing one of his most important brushes, was a pretty big deal) and helping you jump up and onto the newly cleared space.

his hands roamed to your thighs as your lips connected once more, and a surprised gasp was swallowed by him once he slapped your thigh gently. lips traveling to kiss the expanse of your neck, he began whispering against you. you could hardly hear him over your own breathy little sounds, but the words went straight to your heart.

“prettiest girl.”

“so beautiful.”

his hands traced shapes on your thighs, “best thighs. love your thighs- god, i fucking love your thighs.”

you whimpered needily, grasping at his hair.

when he pushed you back against the table, encouraging you to lay down, you somewhat panicked internally at the knowledge that you’re actually about to be bare in front of him, on display for him to judge- or maybe admire.

when he doesn’t do either of those, instead leaning down to kiss down your body, a part of you is conflicted. you’re grateful he didn’t stare because that means he didn’t openly judge you. but at the same time, you wanted his admiring gaze upon your body.

however, he did something much better than that.

applying tiny, sweet little kisses to every inch of skin he crossed, including your breasts, he whispered a praise about everything- and, slowly, you felt yourself relax as your insecurities faded away.

“so soft,” he whispered, referring to your skin.

“do you have any idea how much these drive me crazy?” jaemin nearly growls, raising both hands to cup and squeeze your boobs as he dotted the area with soft, open-mouthed kisses.

you were experiencing an all new high.

tears thickly lined your eyes and sweet wispy moans left your lips. everything was overwhelming, and you were acutely aware of every touch on your skin. his tongue that would occasionally dart out to wet your skin (which he would later blow cool air on and make you shiver). his pillowy lips that danced over your body and left purple marks in their wake. his fingers that dug into your hips and tugged you impossibly closer to him, and snuck their way against your panty line to feel the soft material he’d yet to remove.

“pretty little tummy,” he said softly, gently kissing your stomach until you felt like the butterflies were going to eat you alive from the inside out. his menstruations were sinful, yet his words so pure and innocent.

something you had to remind yourself jaemin was far from.

every time he returned to your lips, you could feel his bulge rub against your clothed pussy and you wanted to scream; to grab hold of him and force him to do what you wanted- needed most.

yet you remained as patient as you could, your fingers drumming idly against his shoulders as a form of distraction.

“you know how long i’ve wanted you, cherry blossom?”

the name seemed so sweet prior, now it was laced with something more. something dark and lustful- something you were beginning to like.

you shook your head in response to his question, feelings his lips attach to the skin of your neck. you leaned your head back and allowed access. with his new angle, he began to nip and bite at your neck, taking your breath away.

“so long,” he nearly whined, pressing himself against you, “can i show you?”

“please…” you cried, grabbing him by his paint-stained shirt and taking his lips with your own greed.

you were grateful you had kissed him, you really were. because the boy was faster than you ever imagined he could be, swiping down your underwear with one swift, easy pull. his pants took a bit longer to free him from, but once he finally did, you had never been more excited for something in your life.

with all of his sweet gestures and his prior praise, your body was practically begging for him. arousal pooled in the underwear that lay discarded in the far corner of the room, and it took moments for jaemin to swipe his hard member against your pussy to gather your wetness.

his fingers played with your opening, slowly easing in and out in the hopes of preparing you for him- and damn was he glad he did, because the string of unending noises you let out in response was nothing short of music to his ears.

“need you,” you whimpered, biting back a moan. “please.”

with that begging look in your eye, who was he to say no? he kissed you hard, passionately, roughly- something you’d always dreamed of, and yet, it paled in comparison to the real thing.

and finally, with a strangled groan, did jaemin slip inside your heat.

what a dream come true.

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