#like no one ever told me diarrhea is part of these i just thought i was like super unhealthy with my diet or something

[gay-kurapika]

I'm kind of amused I thought I had a hernia the other day. Girl I'm on my period

[androgynousblackbox]

My dog died and all I got was sore arms

I haven't slept in at least twelve hours, people, so I better take the chance to keep this rush going until I inevitably crash all the way down. I just want to talk about today. Warning because it gets gross and graphic because fuck me, I guess. I had to live this, I get to tell it.

So the day started as normal. I went downstairs with Oscar so we could both get some breakfast. We had agreed to see the vet at 12 and it was way before that, so I thought eating something would give me a push of energy to keep awake. I haven't stopped petting him all night, only when he himself wanted to play a little or drink water. After that I kept him with me as long I could.

I go downstairs and I see Oscar trying to take a shit. This is important because it has been four days already since he wasn't abled to and the vet told us that his tumor had gotten so big that was obstructing anything from coming out, which was very bad because it could become toxic inside his body and then, boy, that is going to be some painful ass death and we don't want that.

I look at him for a bit, but soon I start to get panicked because not only nothing is coming out, he is still pressing so fucking hard. Little drops of shit go down and he is still trying, dragging his body across the floor, until I see something just about to come out. I can't see it clealy but it looks red so I, ever the optimistic, immediately think that those are his intestines and he is actually hurting himself, if I somehow don't manage to get him to stop he is going to fucking die from blood loss after shitting his organs out. When I try to clean his assholes with the paper towells I just can feel something hard and I have no fucking clue of how intestines being shit out have to feel, so that doesn't help me at all.

You see, this was around 8 in the morning. I was the only one awake in the house. The vet appointment wasn't until four hours later. I call mom to please contact the vet, please get him here so he can give him something for the pain, something, anything, and while she is dressing herself up… he manages to shit a enormous shit that looked hard as a rock. After doing that I still had to clean his asshole with my hand. After a little freak out to my mom because I honestly thought he was going to fucking bleed to death in my arms, I manage to calm down and get Oscar back into my arms. Obviously with some old raggedy ass sheet we were never going to use again anyway because the diarrhea could get on my legs.

Now, it has been weeks since his last bath so he wasn't smelling like fresh puppy already, but now there was that to account. Trying to avoid the stains on his fur I still hold him and pet him, telling him over and over again that I loved him and kissing his head. His fur, the parts that weren't stained, was still so soft and white.

When it's time to go, the entire way I am thinking of somehow running away, to delay it a week more, a day more, but I know that would have only made it worse for the both of us. We get inside the vet's place and let me tell you, on my insides I am still mad at this man because he didn't prepared me for absolute shit.

He first put a tranquilizer on Oscar, but didn't tell me that it would take ten whole fucking ass minutes into doing anything to him. So when I saw him moving his head still and looking around, imagine my fucking surprise when the vet is back after preparing the rest of the stuff and he is still moving, more than willing to bite him for doing more shit he doesn't like.

He also didn't tell me that the effect of the lethal injection would be near instant. Like actually so. One second I can feel his breathing and the next he is gone. And like, that is stupid. It's stupid to feel upset about that. Because if anything that should be a good thing, right? It was all so quick he didn't suffer at all. Like just turning a switch off. But Jesus fuck, would have killed this man to tell me ANYTHING before doing it, TO GIVE ME A WARNING? So I could give him the last belly rub, because I was concentrating on holding his head instead. I wanted to give him a belly rub. He deserved that belly rub.

So he is gone and I have a small little breakdown right there, as you fucking do, and they put him on a cardboard box. Oh, also I put a lock of my hair with his body. Last night I cut as much hair I could off him to fill a little crochet heart I made, so in my head that makes sense. I have a little something of you, you have a little something of me.

I am not religious, superstitious or anything like that. But it means something to me that a part of me remains with his body.

We drove to a place my aunt own where she had told the gardener to make a hole for us. Call me a privilege asshole, because I really must be to think that the gardener himself would be there to wait for us to put the box down and then he would bury him. You know, like in normal funerals for people. The entire way there I can't help to feel that suddenly my arms are too light. My arms that carried Oscar up and down the stairs the last weeks, that carried him to the vet all those times since his diagnosis, that hold him the entire night, were too light and that felt so alien, so wrong to me.

But he wasn't a person, he was a dog. And the gardener probably had better things to do than stay there and pay respects for a dog he never even met. So the hole was there, the pile of dirt was there and against a tree there was what I can only describe as the absolute shittiest shovel that has ever existed on earth. That thing offended me the very moment I laid eyes on it.

Like, most shovels have a proper handle at the end and curve into a triangle on the side that actually goes into the dirt. But this bullshit, this shitty ass thing, was nothing but a metal squared tube ending on a small metallic plate that was only slighty curved. If the gardener actually used that to make the hole, that was rather well made and sufficiently deep, I am going to be fucking impressed.

There wasn't anything else to use, though, so I shoveled that dirt myself until my hands were red, my arms hurt and even my legs were pained. I am an artist, and also a lazy fuck, so you can only imagine my noodle ass arm not being used at all to that physical labor. Mom kept offering for us to do it together, but no fucking way, man. Oscar deserved this, Oscar was in so much pain and suffered so much for so long, so the least I could do is to suffer a little more for him. He was mine. I owe it to him. It was only fair.

That burial was a labor of love. I am proud of doing that for him. I still hope the gardener has his own shovel that is better than that bullshit. But I am glad I did it.

Once I have a proper nap and my brain is back again to it's usual speed I will have a bad time and start missing him and think all sorts of awful things because he isn't here anymore. I will miss him. I miss him now. I don't regret one second I spend with that dog.

On the way back home the soreness in my arms was all I could ask for. Oscar wasn't there anymore, but I said goodbye the best way I could and he is not in pain anymore.

Que Descanses En Paz, Oscar.

[the-violet-void]

y'know what, fuck it. time for some trauma dumping. big CW for child abuse, neglect, and self harm

I'm a victim of the terrible US adoption agency!

I was adopted at the age of three. I only have one memory of my time before being adopted, and it was a happy memory that admittedly has some really concerning connotations, but all I really have to go off was what people told me was reported to CPS and my biological mom denying all of it, so Idk I'll just leave this part of my past untouched for now. maybe it was a good idea to remove us, maybe it was total bullshit, either way there is no reason in hell I should have been given to the family I was given to

first of all, my two older siblings and I were promised that we wouldn't ever be separated, only for me to almost immediately be separated from them, and us put into two separate families in completely different cities

I don't know anything about how my siblings were raised, but they went back to our bio mom almost as soon as they each turned 18, so that doesn't bode well. also apparently their adoptive parents wouldn't let them see me more than like once or twice besides at the rare events where it was unavoidable, so yeah

onto the family I was adopted into

____

My adoptive dad has terrible anger issues. any little thing could set him off. like literally just stopping for a second, because whatever was on TV caught my eye while I was walking past while getting ready for school, was enough for him to yell at me. my mom would warn us when he was coming home from work that he was "in a bad mood" sometimes, which basically meant we better be on our absolute best behavior and not annoy him by telling him the joke I heard on TV earlier that day that I thought was really funny

frequently, he would hit me. his go to was slapping. mind you, not spanking (as bad as that is already). slapping. across the face. it got to a point where I developed a dread of getting out of bed in the morning, because the longer I hid on my top bunk, the longer I could stay away from him. I literally don't have a single memory of a school morning where I wasn't slapped around at some point. 9/10 I didn't even know why it was happening. he would never have a talk with me about why I was being punished, just kinda told me "you know what you did"

one day in like 5th or 6th grade I had enough and after he hit me, I hit him back and said "stop hitting me" and his response was to slap me the hardest he's ever done. I fell to my hands and knees, and after I got back up and walked away, my nose started gushing blood. he'll insist to this day that it was just that I was upset and it was cold outside (we were inside where it was reasonably comfortably warm) but I know for a fact that it was because he knocked something loose in there or something like that.

a girl at school noticed the clot in my nose and asked about it, and I told her what happened. she told an adult on my behalf (without me asking, btw). later that night my dad told me to explain to the principal the next day that it was "just spanking for discipline" and that he wasn't abusing me.

One day I was told to clean my adoptive brother and my shared bedroom, and I said "but that's his mess, why doesn't he have to clean it up? it's not fair" and he screamed at me, saying "you have ten seconds to get up there and get that room clean or I'm kicking your ass into next week, is that fair?" and, because I'm autistic and didn't realize it was a hypothetical, I said "no, it's not". he grabbed me by the collar, shoved my head in the nearby kitchen sink, and started blasting me in the face with the spray nozzle. he kept me down for what felt like forever, and I felt like I was drowning the entire time

when I got into high school, he stopped hitting me as often, but there was that one time my brother refused to clean up after his dog after it diarrhea-ed under my bed (for days on end, and I had to sleep right above it) and instead of making him or punishing him, my dad just told me to do it instead. I refused, and my dad shoved me against the closet door, knocking both it off its slider, and a lot of slats out, and then started pulling on my hair as hard as he could while pushing back on my body. I only got out because I managed to accidentally him in the face while I was flailing in pain and desperation, then ran to the bathroom and looked the door and hid until he calmed down. even after all of this I still had to clean it up myself

in adulthood, it doesn't happen a lot, but we get into fist fights sometimes. mostly now it's "just" verbal stuff, like making offhand comments about my weight (pretending he cares about my health when I call him out for it) for example. also even though the apartment we both lease (I hate this arrangement btw, but there's literally no other option for me rn) is equally under both our names, he insists that he is "king of the house" and that I'm "too autistic" to be in charge, when literally all I want is for us to treat each other as equals

btw I found out recently that in his mind, it's ok for a white person to say the N word (with a hard r and everything) as long as they weren't using it "against anyone" and that he wasn't "scared of a word". also he made a point to use the word as much as possible during that "discussion", with immaculate enunciation each time, far better than he was using for any other word of any sentence. I know this isn't abuse towards me, but I just want you to understand the kind of man I was given to. I will say though, I had asked him previously to try to help me de-escalate when our fights got too heated so they don't turn into fist fights anymore, and guess what he didn't do, and guess what happened

_____

on to my mom. as a kid she was my preferred parent. but that doesn't mean she was good.

she didn't slap me around, but she would spank me from time to time. this was rare, though there was the time she threatened to pull down my pants and slap me bare-ass naked in front of the entire store

her go to punishments was time-out, fair enough I guess, but she would leave me there way too long imo. honestly I think she would forget she put me there sometimes

there were plenty of times where she would tell me that we didn't have money for a seven dollar Bionicle set or a cheap Transformer or whatever, then add a new Coach purse to her collection a few days later

because of my autism, vegetables taste like poison to me. like, actual literal poison. I can't handle it at all. it makes me dry heave and everything. the bitterant on a Nintendo Switch cartridge is a sweet treat comparatively. I dreaded any time my mom made dinner because it would mean the potential of being given a seving of vegetables of some kind, and if that happened I was fucked, because she wouldn't let me get up until I finished them. she would do this in front of the extended family too, during holiday dinners, and berate me saying "look at all the other kids outside having fun, you could join them if you just eat your vegetables". there was one time I sat at the table until like 9 or 10 pm before she finally left me get up because I just couldn't bring myself to eat it. dinner was at like 5 or 6

when the whole bloody nose thing happened, she guilt tripped me by saying that if I ever told anyone about my dad's abuse again, that all us kids would be taken away, and (seemingly more important to her) that she would loose her job (she works with kids)

I only ever had friends over once in elementary school, for my birthday one year. unfortunately I spent most of that standing in a corner because I said a word that sounded vaguely like a cuss word or something I don't even know what it was about, but it was one of the most embarrassing days of my life. I finally build up the courage to invite friends over, and she does THIS!? yes of course I was made fun of for this at school

as I got older and started thinking for myself (and by that I mainly mean "coming out" as an athiest) she became a whole lot worse. she started finding any excuse to pick a fight with me, and would intentionally escalate me until my "anger issues" came out (in hindsight I know this was Ember coming out to try to defend me) just so she'd have an excuse to punish me by grounding me. she would especially target weekends where I had big plans with my girlfriend at the time.

Idk if this is abuse in some way, but one day I was watching a few episodes of The Addams Family with that girlfriend and I had my arm around her shoulder completely innocently and my mom sees us from the kitchen and pulls me in there and starts berating me for "sexualizing" my gf. I asked what the problem was, that I just had my hand on her shoulder like pretty much any couple does when they're watching something together and she was like "don't lie to me, I know where your hand was". note that this was all still well in earshot of the girlfriend. if I remember correctly we just kinda laughed it off and went back to watching our show

actually, that reminds me. she didn't want me and the girlfriend having sex, or showing physical affection of any kind really, because she didn't want any of the younger kids exposed to it. the sex part I totally get, but like kissing, hugging, and holding hands was too far as well. hell she would get antsy if we even sat on the same piece of furniture. wanna know how she would make sure we weren't having sex? she would send my younger brother to spy on us secretly and report to her if he ever caught us in the act. y'know, the younger brother she didn't want exposed to that sort of thing? to this day that gap in basic logic confounds me

there was this one time when I was just watching Netflix on my 3DS and my sister kinda stole the ability to watch Netflix from me on another device (my mom was only paying for one person to be able to use it at a time) so I let her watch an episode of her show before taking it back. my sister threw a fit over this, and my mom came in and got Ember and me so wound up that E threw a book (not even in anyones direction, and it landed harmlessly on the floor with nary a corner ruffled) and she called the police on me for it. her exact words to the dispatcher was "hello, I would like to press charges on my son..." I went into the kitchen and made her watch me self harm and told her straight up that she and my dad are the reason this happens. she looked at me dead in the eyes and said "I'm not the one holding the knife to your arm"

nowadays we have a sort of unspoken truce, though she refuses to accept that I'm trans or call me by my real name or use my pronouns because I'm autistic so according to her I don't know what I want from life (btw, remember when I said she worked with kids? it's in the mental health field, so by now that should terrify you)

______

they were both pretty neglectful. I mean I was fed, clothed (even though I didn't like any of the clothes) and never slept without a roof over my head, but they were emotionally neglectful (mainly I couldn't depend on them to help me when I was upset) and my ability to hold a conversation took a hit because they refused to show any interest in a conversation with me that lasted longer than like 30 seconds or whatever. to this day I still have it internalized that no one cares what I have to say and that I'm a nuisance to everyone around me. I also have a really hard time reaching out to people when I'm need help

I was the scapegoat of the family. any time one of the other kids did something wrong, and my parents weren't around to see it, I would be blamed immediately

when I started self harming in high school, instead of trying to help improve my life, or get to the bottom of why I was doing it, or anything like that, they punished me. I'm pretty sure I was grounded, and they definitely went through my room and took away anything metal, even if it wasn't even sharp at all

one day after moving out I was visiting my parents' house and I saw a notepad back and forth between my fellow adopted sibling and one of my parents, I don't know which one. it was something about them wanting him to do a chore and him not wanting to do it because he felt like shit that day or something. this went back and forth for a few pages until whichever parent it was said "we adopted you. you are our property. you will do what we say". so yeah mask off there, huh?

____

I spent most of my childhood hiding in my room playing video games. they became an escape, as well as a way to stay out of my parents' way

I have flashbacks to my dad's abuse frequently. sometimes I'll be so wrapped up in intrusive thoughts playing through my mom's arguments that I'll find myself responding to "her" verbally.

like I mentioned before I have a really hard time believing anyone cares about me

no joke I looked up a symptoms list of CPTSD like a month ago and I found I could tick off every single thing on the list that came up. I talked to my psychiatrist about it, hoping I could get a diagnosis (over time of course, I wasn't expecting it right away), but she kinda dismissed me and told me that I had to talk to a therapist about it, so yeah.

at this point literally all I want is a reasonably comfortable quiet life, maybe sharing a place with a partner or a few, and never having to look at or talk to my adoptive family again. I honestly don't know if I can start healing and bettering myself in any major ways until then

[wri0thesley]

...Nat I am so sorry for what I am about to unleash on you, but I read your groyne post and this thought has been unable to leave me so here we are. I hope you find it half as funny as I do (but I am running on like 4 hours of sleep so everything at this point is kinda on some level hilarious, so I'm legit sorry if it misses the mark).

(also this is definitely not 13th century style, but I aimed for old timey)

"Groyne on Fire": a short story by Anonymouse, 2023

"My lady, I must confess, that since the other night, I have been unable to stop thinking of you," he drawled from his place at the window. The moonlight lit up his face: hard, chiseled like gravel.

From across the room, she subtly wiped the drool from her face. In the motion, her boobs jiggled (boobily) like year old jelly in an earthquake.

Dashingly, he sprinted across the room, like a horse with diarrhea. In one swift motion, he had her gathered in his arms, as prickly and splinter-inducing as badly cut firewood. Her heart leapt at the motion, like doves lightened of the burden of a fat dump. Her breasts, as large as toddlers, naturally precariously wobbled, like bread dough left to rise too long, on the brink of collapse.

From here his scent, like a wood-fire burned three months ago under a full moon mixed with rat poison, overwhelmed her. This, she thought, was the true scent of a man.

He pulled her closer, and suddenly she could feel his 13-pack through his scantily clad shirt, like an unexpected Lego found between the sheets when you're trying to sleep. The burning embers in her groyne did light up into true flames, thinking of the way that, not even two days ago, those abs had flexed, like an inflatable wacky tube man, as he thrusted into her with all the passion of a snake in its death throes.

"Oh," she said, fainting into his arms, her breasts rising to the occasion and fluttering like curtains in the wind, "my good sire, you should not tempt me thusly: my groyne does burn for you, like your entire estate burned down not two hours before now. I know not what to do with these feelings, I have hardly ever felt them, except perhaps as I threw open a window 4 years prior."

At this, his body shuddered with a sigh, like a poorly-built bunkbed on the brink of collapse. He kissed her then, and it felt like a door slamming shut in hurricane winds.

Eventually, they had to part, but he still held her close, mouthed sensually at her neck, the way one mouths at cake when one finds themselves without a fork. He whispered reverently: "I feel the same burnyng in myne groyne... I feel it as strongly as you... the Doctor told me that it might be the gonorrhea."

She shuddered from head to toe like a frog in a hurricane, and attempted to catch her breath, her breasts writhing like the snakes that once adorned Medusa's head.

The Ende

(I cannot believe this is my first writing piece in literal years, but here it is. I hope it made you at least chuckle, I laughed till I cried. If this is just weird and not at all funny, feel free to ignore this. I hope you'll enjoy the rest of your day Nat!

my breasts, too, feel the size of toddlers—

sffdghn thank u anon i am honoured that you have wrote something based on my little post! I spent the entire time expecting you to reveal it was diluc or someone at the end so expectations averted i guess!!!!

[mrs-weasley-reid]

FIRST RESPONDERS

Aaron Hotchner x surgeon!reader

Sypnosis: Exhausted from a case, Aaron mistakes you for someone else. And before you can clear the air, a robbery activates your respective public responsibilities as first responders at a crime scene. Warning: meet cute. fluff(?) silly goofy hotch and reader for like three seconds. curse(s). descriptions of shooting and blood. not proofread :/ A/N: OMG !!! We reached 1k followers!! I just noticed when I was about to post this lol. Anywayssss. I wrote this while jumping between Criminal Minds and Good Doctor, soooooo👀 I'm my biggest critic this doesn't look good to me, but I would love to hear your thoughts!

"Sorry, I'm late."

Your gaze lifts from the laminated menu. A man with tensed brows and straight lips sits across you.

He intertwines his fingers, and his eyes scan all over you like he's judging a book by its cover. "Aaron Hotchner," He introduces briefly, speaking fast as if each second with you is an inconvenience.

Authority radiates out of him. His look towards you alone can be considered a type of interrogation tactic, as if you'd committed a crime just by sitting across from him. Whatever that may be, you couldn't care less.

It doesn't stop you from taking notice of the way he's dressed, though.

A charcoal gray suit.

Your brows raise from enthusiastic mirth. It's not any simple gray suit. It's tailored—cut and sewn just for him. The jacket hugs his arms and torso perfectly. Enough to profoundly tell someone that he's got something to show under the clothing and yet not too flashy or arrogant.

He has good taste. Professional and beguiling. You consider yourself impressed but can't hide the lather of confusion.

Self-consciousness courses through your veins as you glance at your own clothing. Acknowledging his fixed stare makes you melt into a puddle of embarrassment. Blushing and partly wide-eyed.

Navy blue oversized hoodie and black workout leggings adorn you. Your hair's quite a mess, too, and a thin layer of sweat slowly dries off your forehead. You came from an evening run and stopped by to get dinner out of the way. One might question your routine, but who cares anyway?

Still, the most important question lingers.

Who is this handsome guy?

Aaron Hotchner.

His name rings in your head like it's a fact you should have known since birth. Then, the second question brightens in your mind.

Why is this Aaron Hotchner talking to you?

Guess you're about to find out.

"David set us up. I'm not sure how much he's told you about me, but..." You blink as your mind wanders, perplexed. His voice becomes faint while you dive into deep thought.

Curse David, whoever he is, as you drag heaven and hell to draw upon him the nastiest case of diarrhea you ever wish your worst enemy to experience. You assume this David is the culprit in ruining your evening with Aaron's stoic expression, attractive fancy suit, and broad shoulders. When all you want is a peaceful evening to diffuse from the physical and mental exhaustion, you've been through the week.

Your brows jump in place ever so subtly as you decide to skim through Aaron's face. You wonder if it's even right to call the strange man by his first name.

He looks just as how you felt—enervated and fatigued. It must be the reason why he's speaking in vague tangents and rapid breaths like he's dying to slam his body on a bed.

"I apologize for the trouble." He says, snapping you out of your trance. "You seem nice, but I'm not looking into dating for now." Liar. Your face crumples as his words sweep in and out of your ears. You have no business in the fact that he's bailing on his date—you conclude between his awkward gaze and unfiltered lie—but you harbor a pinch of resentment towards him.

Whoever the woman he is supposed to meet, part of you is glad she doesn't have to deal with a lousy excuse from the guy who can't even get his date right.

He starts tugging the edges of his suit jacket, preparing to leave you out in the cold as if you actually cared about the little imaginary date he's on. "I do hope you have a great evening—" But Aaron's cut off by a loud bang in the air.

It's a reflex to duck at the sound of a gunshot, so you're surprised to see him, Aaron, remain calm, with little to no flinching. And you suppose he's surprised to see you unfazed, too, since you're both just staring at each other instead of hunching compared to all the other patrons shivering in fear.

A man in Balaclava comes into view as he points a gun at an innocent server. “Everybody down! Move, or I’ll fucking shoot!” He shouts in the small establishment.

Gasps echo in each corner as he starts to demand belongings prompted by his gun.

“Do whatever he says.”

Your gaze falls back on the man in front of you. His calm and even breaths piqued your interest, masked by a short nod.

“Whatever happens, don't fight back,” Aaron adds under his breath as soon as Balaclava reaches the table before you.

Balaclava drags the teary waitress towards your table, hooking an arm around her neck like she's his lifeline. He takes one look at the two of you and scoffs, “Must be an awful date you're having, man. Just think of me saving yourself from a sorry-ass date.”

Aaron keeps his eyes on you. And while his face says nothing but blandness, you don't miss the way his irises spark with rage at Balaclava’s rude words. You shove his hypocrisy aside and focus on the problem at hand in the form of a handheld gun.

You place your wallet on the table, the only thing you have.

“Dang, seriously? Not even your phone?” Balaclava laughs at the difference between you and Aaron’s offerings. “Make sure you get a good fuck out of this bitch—”

“That's enough,” Aaron glares at Balaclava, hands clenching.

Balaclava scoffs and, without warning, smacks Aaron with the butt of his gun.

Your body jolts at the whiff of air against your cheek—eyes wide. You're about more confused than you were when Aaron made the executive decision that you're on a date.

Aaron recoils back from the blow. The skin at the end of his brow is torn open, bleeding.

You must have been such a delight to insult that Balaclava completely forgets his main goal of the evening. Thanks to you, the waitress seems to gather herself and breaks free.

Everything happens so fast that your mind does you a favor by slowing things down for your benefit.

As the waitress flees, Balaclava points his gun in her direction.

Not two seconds later, you and Aaron simultaneously jump out of your seats—he to stop Balaclava and you to block the shot.

But another gun fires from a distance, forcing Balaclava to drop to the floor. And just like before, you and Aaron’s eyes meet with understanding.

He finally fished the gun from a holster on his ankle, pointing it at the patron, who held a rusty revolver. “Drop your weapon!”

“That guy was robbing us! I had to!” An old lady shouts but almost immediately shakes the metal out of her hands.

You're busy yourself, kneeling next to Balaclava as the cloth over his torso begins to stain red. You push against the wound, dirtying your own hands.

“Agh! That fucking hurts, bitch!” Balaclava shouts at you, coughing up blood all over his mouth.

“I don't plan on being charged with negligence, so suck it up.” You hiss, getting a better stance on the floor as you place your weight in your arms. The blood oozes between the cracks of your fingers, and you mentally curse in your head.

Soon, the adrenaline kicks in as every single page you'd read in medical school flashes through your eyes. Early days and night shifts collide in one heavy push.

Aaron drops across from you, “Is he in critical condition?”

“With these hands?” You gaze at him behind your lashes, breathing evenly. “He’s more likely to die in jail.”

He nods at your words and your mocking grin. Aaron grabs Balaclava’s closest arm, attaching a handcuff around his wrist.

“You just have that with you?” You ask, puzzled and fighting the strong urge to chuckle as you press your weight further.

Balaclava seethes in pain, “Fuck! You’re too fucking heavy—"

“Shut up!” You and Aaron lash simultaneously.

Aaron looks back at you, "And yes. It's kind of my job…" He shrugs nonchalantly, glowering at Balaclava as he starts to recite the Miranda rights.

You playfully roll your eyes, "Oh, really? I didn't notice." The two of you share impish grins.

"I-I called the ambulance..." A patron interjects, stuttering in fear more of you and Aaron than the man who had a gun on her face just minutes ago.

You exhale, straightening your back as you thank her dearly.

In the blink of an eye, you're back at the hospital no less than 24 hours, scrubbing your hands and arms clean to go into surgery.

It takes you roughly an hour and a half to fish the bullet out and stop the bleeding. You swear the floor is made of puddles as you shuffle out of the operating room.

Two officers approach you, asking you about Balaclava’s recovery, but a man in a now messy suit steals your attention.

Aaron sits in the waiting room with maroon streaks down the side of his face. His eyes are droopy, exhausted. His jacket is off now, sleeves rolled up past his elbows, and tie loose. His hair isn't as great as it was when he sat across from you.

You quickly excuse yourself, moving past the two officers. It's unknown, but something draws you to Aaron’s dozing figure. Your steps are light so as not to startle him, taking off your scrub cap the closer you get.

“You should get that cut checked out.”

He looks up at the sound of your voice, reflexively rising to stand, but before his body can tower over you, you have already placed a hand over his shoulder to push him down. Aaron’s bottom attaches with the seat, silently impressed at your strength.

You tut, “Good god, you're stubborn.” You sigh, lifting his chin with your fingers to examine the laceration next to his brow. “The cut isn't deep. You’ll be fine with a small gauze—” you look right into his eyes, “—you feeling dizzy, nauseous, lightheaded?”

“No, I—” Aaron blinks, standing up. “I’m fine, thanks.” You pull away as a clearing cough rumbles out of his throat.

A sigh passes your lips, "You know, for someone who told me not to fight back, you did great at pissing off that guy." His defensive reaction to the culprit's comments about you lingered in the back of your mind.

After a moment, he meets your eyes again, swallowing what you educationally guess as a lump of air. “You forgot your wallet.” He hands you the object, successfully changing the subject.

“You could've left it at the front desk. It must've been a huge trouble for you to wait that long.” You say, taking your wallet off his palm.

Aaron’s brows furrow, “Why would it be?”

The wave of mischief runs to your veins and to the muscles that bring your lips into a grin. “Does blowing your date off ring a bell to you? Gosh, that woman is so lucky she didn't have to put up with your lame excuse.” Sarcasm reeks of your tone. You even back away a few inches, emphasizing the effect of his actions prior to the chaos.

The busy floor works like white noise, and Aaron’s silence is deafening. You can see the way his mind wanders, arguing with himself. Blushing ears and embarrassed face unknown to men.

Aaron takes a minute before he speaks, “You were not my date.” He states in realization.

“No, I was not.”

“I was a bit of a jerk…”

“Yes, you were.”

“I apologize, doctor—” Aaron glances at the embroidered lettering on your left chest, saying your name with slow enunciation that makes him cringe.

You stifle a chuckle, dipping your hands inside your scrub’s pockets, “As you should be.”

Aaron gulps, “Is coffee enough compensation for the trouble?” He fidgets with the phone in his hand, passing it across calluses while he finds interest on his feet.

Brow peaks at the corner of your head, “Are you asking me out?” You cross your arms against your chest as you look up at him with a mocking smirk. “I thought you weren't looking into dating. What changed?”

“What’s that?” He blinks again, straightening his spine as he rolls his shoulders back.

“Oh, my god!” You scoff, appalled by the realization. “You blew me off because of my clothes!” Disbelief and laughter radiate out of you.

Aaron’s ears turn pink under the bright fluorescent lights, “I wasn't— You're making an assumption.” He avoids making eye contact, fighting to keep his stoic expression.

You mockingly nod, “Sure, let's say I am. But am I wrong?” You challenge him.

“... Can you blame me? Who goes on a date in a hoodie?”

“Uh, who gets their date wrong? I mean, why would you even think I was your date?”

“David said she's beautiful and confident, and you're the first one I saw.”

A pause.

You bite the tissue on your lower lip hard enough to hold the twitching smile from breaking free.

Aaron stares into your eyes like you're a fine print, and he's reading a book.

It's dizzying. The giddiness you felt. How his words do not mean what your mind insists on interpreting. How badly your hands want to tug his messy tie.

You inhale deeply, "Well—" you clear your throat, "—I'm sorry I wasn't dressed for our impromptu date." Your wallet flips open with one flick. You smoothly hand him a small card. "I'll take note of that and wear something better on our next. Goodnight." You bid, scurrying away without another word.

But before you can turn the corner, you stop at the buzzing on your thigh.

You fish your phone out of your pocket, pressing the answer on the call. You introduce yourself professionally as soon as the speaker connects to your ear.

A deep voice knocks on your eardrum, “Are you free tomorrow?”

You look back in Aaron’s direction. A shy smile glistens over his face. You roll your eyes, but a laugh manages to tickle out of you.

“Couldn't wait in the morning?” You playfully ask, fully facing your body towards him now.

“I was wondering if you'd like to go for a run. Might be an alignment with your fashion sense.” He teases.

You scoff, “Oh, sweetie, let's make sure you won't get your date wrong first. One at a time, okay?” You retort back.

He shakes his head from afar, “Is that a yes?”

"Yes." You hang up, spinning on the balls of your feet as you turn the corner with a wide grin tattooed on your face.

[mai-melancholia]

First Entry!

Hi, my name is Mai, or Mel. I made this tumblr account because it seems to take less spoons to journal my feelings and because no one knows who I am (and as far as I can tell, only one person knows tumblr). This will serve as a personal blog for my healing journey.

Although I can write anything I want, I don't want to trigger anyone on accident if they up on my feed. I'll try to pretty up my tumblr as I go! And I will of course put trigger warnings if needed, but even then, I'll try to be mindful. I have been told that I have a very colorful language so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I love writing out my journey.

With that being said,

I am going to talk about how I am. So, I find typing this stuff out to be relieving. I am practicing how to talk IRL, but right now, whenever I do open my mouth, it's a diarrhea mouth (disgusting I know) : everything just pours out with no filter.

So, for the majority of my life (like 1/3rd of my life), I have been in a relationship; I have never been single healthily. We're talking when I was 16 when I started dating. That is a big portion of my life.

::TMI INCOMING::

CW: I think I'm oversharing basically so it's going to be a lot of spoons to read this part.

So, as a result, I've been extremely codependent on not just my partner but the people I associate with myself with. My life mentor, Storm, puts it better of how bad it is:

TL;DR: I depend on the people I associate myself with to determine my value and it's because of that, I'm going to dissociate a lot because I lost those people.

::TMI END:: But yeah, I'll be journaling how I'm doing and jot down some thoughts.

My main goal of journaling is to put my story out there for those who may be struggling with something similar. This is the first week of blocking. It's hard. I uh... I actually went through a lot of relationships and two of them stand out the most. I'll give them letters. My relationship with the first relationship is C and my most recent one is J.

C and I are friends right now, but we are sorta strain'd. We did the whole no contact thing, and we reconvened in each other's lives 6 months later after we broke up. I got a lot to say about them, but I ain't gonna speculate unless I am for sure certain. For the most part, I'm going to be objective if I ever bring them up.

J and I.... Let's say that it's dicey. It's not complicated but it's just a lot. For now, I just want to move past them because they show no signs of wanting to reconvene. Wound still fresh, nothing is certain, but I right now just want to focus on myself.

So join me in this journey.

Be well.

-M

[figmentpez]

I just read a post about "if you're doing well on your meds, keep taking them, it's the meds that are making you do well" and it was frustrating because I've never had that experience. (Not for psychiatric meds, at least. It ain’t hard to get me to keep taking my antihistamine.) I've only ever had the "my medication seems to actively be making my health worse", and while thinking about how the antidepressant I was on never did more for me than what I can get from a good cup of tea, while also giving me diarrhea, I suddenly remembered the anti-anxiety medication that was so much worse.

I can't even remember if I ever talked about this with any of my friends. I haven't thought about it in years, it was such a horrible experience. I started on the anti-anxiety medication, and it caused my anxiety to go up, and up, and up. By like a week in I was at a 9/10 of anxiety constantly. Just one massive panic attack all day, and the doctor just told me "you need to let it build up in your system." I could not make it to two weeks. I would have ceased-to-be myself because I was so terrified of everything, and my doctor's only response was that I should have kept on the medication. No acknowledgement that I was experiencing severe side effects. Zero advice on how to cope or manage.

I'm realizing that this is a big part of why I'm having so much trouble looking for a doctor.

[thurisazsalail]

Open Letter to Nutritionists + Dieticians

I'm trying to find some kind of data that seems impossible. I've had actual registered dieticians. Nutritionists are absolutely useless. My GP, one of several I've had in the past few years, is telling me to ~just diet and exercise!!!~ even when I remind her that I cannot, in fact, physically exercise without significant risk of injury, and I cannot eat most things because of celiac disorder and autoimmune issues. I’m fine when told something stupid like “diet and exercise!!!” offhand because that actually applies to most people, but when I specifically remind a doc which patient I am, and bring documentation from other doctors to show those things, they turn nasty.

I’m not fine with your stupid-ass “helpfulness” if your “helpfulness” isn’t just not helpful, but is actually actively harmful.

Every article and source I’ve come across for the past few years conflates WEIGHT gain/loss with FAT gain/loss.

These are NOT THE SAME THING.

The professional resources online are not helping. It's the same regurgitated "information" about gluten free foods being high carb, low nutrient, and how we all just think we can eat whatever we want and not "gain weight." I am literally within 5 pounds of my weight 10 years ago. It's on my medical records. I was only diagnosed w celiac in 2018, after months of NOT being able to eat. Without high fat foods like fries and peanut butter, I often cannot break 1000 calories a day. I have gone from ~4-6US size to a ~12-16, depending on brand. My first burden is to somehow sort through millions of search results that change "lose fat" to "lose weight" when in fact, I do not need to lose any weight. I need to lose fat.

THEN I need to find a way to get calories, any calories, without drinking oil and trying to stuff down vegetables that I physically cannot digest. Shockingly, by the time someone thought that maybe my lifelong issues with getting sick every time I ate something that wasn't rice or soda was maybe a Real Problem, I ended up with several other GI issues like dysphagia and early gastroparesis.

I could never eat things like broccoli without my skin breaking out into a rash. There has never been part of my life where I could eat peas. How weird that it turns out, my aversion to "health food" was my autoimmune system telling me that it's a legume allergy. I can have peanuts and nothing else.

So what do I do when it seems like every. single. article. and video. professional or otherwise... is just... a rehash of this one? It isn't just this article, by the way. I'm using this one as a short, clear example of every point I've seen defeated, not just by myself, but by dozens and dozens of followers of other nutrition and celiac-oriented education accounts on social media. https://www.todaysdietitian.com/enewsletter/enews_1013_01.shtml Some of these points are not wrong! - People do tend to better absorb nutrients and put on weight when the intestines begin healing - Not having diarrhea is a Good Thing, and probably helps someone keep on weight - Lots of GF foods right now have no impetus to be "healthy" at all.

I suspect it's because "going gluten free" has been a fad diet, so the people on a diet (who made the industry profitable) are getting nutrients elsewhere; people with celiac disease have no choice but to buy those items. Therefore, there is no financial reason to improve them. Lots are totally empty, devoid of nutrients in any meaningful amounts. I have found some nutritious products recently BUT they have used chickpeas or pea flours. Great, I can't eat those now. I lost quite a few formerly available foods to chickpeas. Cool, cool.

I wonder how many of these doctors ever look into comorbidities in their patients and think about how many of us have chronic illnesses which prevent us from mentally and physically compiling lists of groceries and cooking equipment, making each and every single meal from scratch, cooking it perfectly, cleaning up, and having energy to eat. From the sheer number of articles I've read in the past year, I'm betting on "not many."

In this article, Amy Jones, MS, RD, LD attributes weight gain to eating too much. That our portion sizes are out of control! We need to practice "mindfully eating." Just use smaller plates and don’t watch TV while we eat (yes those are actually in the article.) The fatties are just fat because we gorge on everything we see. We're like the Langoliers, but with the $12 gluten free CPK frozen pizzas at Wal-mart.

[sarahthebanished]

Can’t Fight This Feeling Pt. 3

“I should’ve seen it coming,” Eddie said and the words made your face twist with uncertainty. “I am incredibly charming.” He continued.

You chuckled nervously. “That you are.” You agreed with him. Even now, he was charming. And you wished he would stop it. Stop being charming. Stop being funny. Stop being cute. Stop being silly. Stop being so nice. Stop being Eddie.

“I guess I didn’t realize…I just didn’t know that I felt that way, until it all bubbled out.”

“Like diarrhea,” Eddie concurred with you.

You grimaced. “Yea. Like diarrhea.”

***Eddie Munson x Female Reader • 18 plus • 2.9k words*** 

cursing, drug use, pining, slow burn, friends to lovers, arguing and making up, eventual smut

Part One | Part Two | Part Four

Grabbing a pot from under the cabinet and digging out a can of spaghettios, you sat both next to the can opener while Eddie looked around, pretending to be so interested in the décor he’d seen a hundred times before. “Here ya go,” you said gesturing at the items, “I’m going to get out of these wet clothes.”

You excused yourself and quickly made your way to the bedroom and shut the door behind you. You leaned against it for a second to gather your thoughts. Eddie was clearly trying to make the situation better, if for no reason other than he felt sorry for you because this was the second time in a week he’d seen you cry and heard you word vomit your emotions out like Regan in The Exorcist. You were hopeful it meant you could at least be friends, if he could ever forget you’d told him you had feelings for him and if you could ever…stop having them. Unlikely. Even through the awkwardness all you wanted to do was grab his face and kiss him.

Rolling your eyes at yourself, you pulled off the damp clothes you’d been wearing when you were caught in the rain and dug through your dresser drawer for something more comfortable. Not at all wanting to draw attention to yourself as you had the last time Eddie was over, you settled on an old pair of sweats and a slightly oversized Iron Maiden shirt. Catching a glimpse of yourself in the mirror above your dresser, you saw how pitiful you really looked. Hair frizzed from the moisture. Cheeks and nose flushed red from emotion. Eyes puffy. “Whatever,” you thought, turning away from yourself. “Not like it matters now.”

Escaping from the seclusion of your bedroom, you found Eddie standing by the stove stirring his canned meal. “You only got out one can?” He questioned when he saw you approach. 

“I’m not hungry,” you said flatly, sitting on the couch and crossing your legs in front of you. Through the cut out above the sink, Eddie peaked from the kitchen into the living room, his eyes searching for you. His gaze found yours and he grinned. You wanted to punch him. Stupid fucking grin.

“So, uh, did you pass the math test?” He asked, making the most painful small talk you’d ever heard in your life. “Don’t ask me if I did, cause we already know the answer to that one.” He tried to be funny.

“Yep. Got a B.” You mumbled in response. His face fell at your flatness, and he turned back towards the stove. You felt sort of guilty, he was at least trying. You knew you should, too.

Clanking around in the kitchen let you know he was serving himself and soon he was rounding the corner, bowl in hand. He sat on the other end of the couch and held the bowl out like a peace offering.

“Wanna bite?”

You smiled warmly, and scooted towards him. “Maybe just one.” Eddie scooped up a small spoonful and held it out to you. “Hot.” He cautioned.

You pursed your lips and blew lightly on the steaming spoon, noticing Eddie was doing the same, mimicking you like a mom feeding an infant would do. You laughed. “You are like, a full on mom right now”, you teased him, before taking the spoon in your mouth. He looked at you with that same stupid fucking grin before shoving his own bite in, holding his mouth open breathing quickly in and out to cool it off. He hadn’t offered himself the same caution he had offered you.

Silence fell again and this time, it felt just a tiny bit more normal. Maybe you could go back to being friends after all. Maybe there was hope.

“You ever gonna get tired of spaghettios?” You inquired. Eddie ate several cans a week. “Why would I tire of your signature dish?” He smirked as he took another bite.

“I just wanna say…” you began, loosing your words for a second when his eyes met yours. “I just wanna say that I’m sorry. I really am.” It’s all you could manage to get out.

“It’s alright,” Eddie assured and you got a little annoyed that he said it, like you had anything to be sorry for in the first place. You were just being honest with him and yourself, something you found very difficult to do, and it had bitten you in the ass.

“I should’ve seen it coming,” Eddie said and the words made your face twist with uncertainty. “I am incredibly charming.” He continued.

You chuckled nervously. “That you are.” You agreed with him. Even now, he was charming. And you wished he would stop it. Stop being charming. Stop being funny. Stop being cute. Stop being silly. Stop being so nice. Stop being Eddie.

“I guess I didn’t realize…I just didn’t know that I felt that way, until it all bubbled out.”

“Like diarrhea,” Eddie concurred with you.

You grimaced. “Yea. Like diarrhea.”

He nodded his head a few times, indicating that he understood what you meant.

“I totally understand that I crossed a line and I just really hope….I just hope that we can still be friends.” You explained a little further, fiddling with the hem of your shirt.

“You did cross a line,” Eddie began, shoveling the last bite of spaghettios into his mouth. Your ears burned at the allegation. You could’ve evaporated right there.

“A line I’ve never crossed with any of my friends before,” he continued, “I mean most of my friends are dudes so….but that’s not the point,” he shook his head and refocused himself. “I’m just saying that, I don’t have…and this might be a shock to you….I don’t have a lot of experience with romance.”

Eddie stared at you like he expected you to be surprised, to act like there was no way possible that he, Eddie The Freak Munson, wasn’t a lady killer.

You stared back. Blinking. Unsure what to say.

“What I’m trying to get at is…” he sat the bowl down on the couch cushion in the space between you and turned his body inwards to face you. “What I’m trying to get at is….”You nodded to signal him to continue.

“I don’t know how to tell if a girl likes me because well, I don’t think any girl ever actually has,” he said the last part quietly like he was ashamed. You pursed your lips and waved a hand dismissively. “Yea, right.”

“I’m serious. I’ve never had a girl make a move on me before and it totally freaked me out.”

“Wow. I’m sorry to disturb you so deeply.” You said coldly, because his words had hurt a little.

“No – shit – no. That’s not what I mean. Jesus.” He got flustered with himself, you could see the thought process all over his face as he took a moment to center his thoughts. “I didn’t know how to react, ok? I was high as hell and my brain has a 2-4 business day processing time.”

That made you laugh. He visibly relaxed at the sound. You did, too.

“Eddie, you’re my only real friend. My best friend, even. I don’t click with anybody the way I do with you. I don’t want our friendship to be ruined. I just really wish I could take it all back.”

Eddie looked at you, really studying your face, and you felt a little self conscious under his gaze.

“You mean that? You want to take it all back?”

You nodded firmly, “Yes. I do.”

Eddie turned away and his eyes darted across the room a few times. “Alright,” he said, grabbing the empty bowl and hopping to his feet. “It’s taken back, then. Be kind, please rewind. Erased forever.”

He moved quickly to the kitchen and roughly placed the bowl in the sink. “Don’t worry, I won’t let it affect our lovely friendship,” he hissed out. “Guess you came to your senses. Glad to hear it!”

He was suddenly mad and you didn’t really know why. You unfolded your legs and stood, trying to calm him. He shoved your hand away, showing mild aggression you really had never seen before.

“Thanks for the food. See ya.”

And he was gone. Slamming the door behind him. Before you could even process what had happened, you heard the engine turn over and his tires squeal as he drove away.

“What the fuck just happened?”You asked yourself as you stood, suddenly alone in the living room. “I mean really, what the fuck just happened?”

******

The rest of the school week was a slow burn. Uneventful. Boring. Eddie had, without missing a beat, gone right back to treating you like a friend. Which was surprising, considering how angry he had seemed when he stormed out of your house on Monday afternoon. Now it was Friday and the events that had caused an earthquake in your life seemed so far away, but you still felt the after shocks.

Rejection was something you didn’t have much experience with because you never put yourself out there to begin with, but “if this is what it feels like,” you thought to yourself, “I won’t be doing it again any time soon.”

Eddie was being nice to you but there was something missing. Your interactions felt robotic. He hadn’t lingered his eyes on you, there was hardly any banter. He hadn’t asked you to hang out or smoke even once since that day and you usually got together several times a week.

When the final bell rang, your eyes scanned the halls for him, his head bobbing just a few inches above everyone else. Pushing through the crowd you called to him. He didn’t hear you, or ignored you and kept walking. You caught up with him eventually and tugged at his shoulder to get his attention. “Eddie, hey…” you said catching your breath for a second. “Wanna come over and play video games?”

“Can’t. Hellfire,” he explained shortly by pointing at his shirt. The members of the Dungeons and Dragons club wore their shirts all together on game days. “Oh, right,” you dismissed your own request. “Sorry. I forgot.”

“Maybe we can hang out this weekend,” he countered, but it didn’t seem much like he meant it. You felt yourself shrink from disappointment and dropped your hand from his arm. “Ok. Yea. Have fun.” He barley smiled in reply and turned to continue on his way.

You half expected him to invite you to sit in on the campaign, he had many times before. Guess he just didn’t want you there. As much as Eddie was pretending that things were ok, you knew they weren’t. Dejected and down on yourself, you rode home on your bike slowly, letting the fresh air and afternoon sun bathe you as you tried to clear your thoughts.

At home you tried to keep busy. Did some cleaning your mom had requested of you. Dusting. Vacuuming. You cleaned out the fridge of….something that resembled food that had long been forgotten.

As you settled in, or tried to at least, for another night alone you replayed for the millionth time the entire scenario between you and Eddie.

“You did cross a line.”

“It really freaked me out.”

“Glad you came to your senses.”

You analyzed his words over and over. Behind the lids of your eyes, you could see him. His face. His face always said so much. Expressive. And the expressions he had in these memories were ones you didn’t see often.

Anger. Embarrassment. Frustration.

You’d made him angry. You’d made him embarrassed. You’d made him frustrated. It was all because of you. No wonder he was essentially tip toeing around you. He was probably still feeling all of those things.

Your chest tightened. You just wanted your friend back. You wanted him on your couch, smoking joints and watching a crappy horror movie. You wanted to talk until 2 am. You wanted to see his wide smile and hear his laughter. You wanted his presence.

“Ok, that’s it,” you said out loud to no one. “This has to be fixed.” You slid on your shoes and headed out the door with purpose.

*******

Knowing Wayne was gone for his shift, you didn’t even try to be quiet. You threw your bike down in Eddie’s front yard and began pounding on the front door. You could hear the rumbling of his stereo and through the small dirty windows, you could see light. You kept pounding.

“Eddie!” You hollered his name. “I know you’re up!”

A few seconds passed before the door opened. Eddie was standing there, pajamas on and hair wild.

“Hi,” was all he said, looking completely taken aback. 

“I need to talk to you,” you explained and pushed past him into the dimly lit trailer.

“By all means…” Eddie teased, opening his arm wide to welcome you even though you were already inside. “What’s so important that you had to come over at,” he peaked at his wrist watch, “11:56 pm?”

You probably should’ve been working on your speech on the bike ride over because now as you stood in front of him, the wind was very much gone from your sails. It was hard to be mad at Eddie despite how much you wanted to be.

“I miss you,” you decided to start there. “You completely blew me off today. Have been all week.”

Eddie scoffed and adjusted his stance. “I have been giving you space.”

“Well, I don’t want space!”

Eddie threw his hands up and they came down hard on his thighs. Exasperated. “I cannot keep up with you. I really fucking can’t.”

“I just want my friend! I just want to sit with you and do all the shit we’ve always done. I want you to spend hours at my house. I want you to tell me about your campaigns. I want you to play me your new favorite songs. I want you to sleep on my couch. I want to share a joint with you. I want –“

“Friends don’t do those things.” Eddie cut you off.

“What?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“You think I’m sitting on Jeff’s couch for hours shooting the shit? You think I’m making fuckin’ mix tapes for Dustin? You think I’m offering to spend the night on Gareths couch because he’s scared to be alone?”

You were quiet. Scanning his face.

“Because I’m not. I’m not doing that shit. Because friends don’t do those things.”

It took you a moment to grasp the meaning behind his words. Your mouth fell open but you closed it again. Unsure what to say and desperate not to ruin the moment.

“Can I play you a song?” Eddie asked suddenly.

“A – a song? Right now?”

“Yes. Right now.” He grabbed your wrist and pulled you to his bedroom. “And it’s kind of lame as shit, so don’t fucking laugh.” He explained as he drug you through the small trailer. “But it’s got really good lyrics.” He dropped your wrist and fumbled with his stereo, replacing the cassette that was inside with something else.

“Eddie, I really think we should talk more,” you pressed but he smashed his finger on the play button and shushed you.

“Please just…listen.” He sat down on the edge of the bed and tapped the space next to him to invite you to sit, too. You did.

The music filled the small space, it was definitely not the type of music Eddie usually played, and you sat waiting for the words to begin.

“I can’t fight this feeling any longer. And yet I’m still afraid to let it flow. What started out as friendship has grown stronger. I only wish I had the strength to let it show.”

You gasped slightly as the words sunk in.

“I tell myself that I can’t hold out forever. I said there’s no reason for my fear. Cause I feel so secure when we’re together. You give my life direction, you make everything so clear.”

You looked up at Eddie as the song continued. He was so close. Unbearably close. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, his heart probably beating as quickly as yours.

“Eddie…” you whispered. He scooted his hand closer to you, wrapping his pinky around yours like it was all he could muster at the moment.

The song continued.

“I can’t fight this feeling anymore. I’ve forgotten what I started fighting for. And if I have to crawl upon the floor, come crashing through your door -baby, I can’t fight this feeling anymore.”

“I panicked the other day because…I had never, not in a million fucking life times, expected you to feel for me…the way that I feel for you,” Eddie finally admitted.

Suddenly it all made sense. Every bit of it. Puzzle pieces came together and you saw the big picture.

“I am –,” Eddie began again but you cut him off by slamming a finger to his lips.

“Please,” you begged. “Just, shut up and kiss me.”

Eddie embraced you suddenly and forcefully, chest pressing into yours as your lips collided. Your brain was static, nothing but a thousand fireworks exploding at once with the words “holy shit holy shit holy shit” on repeat. He tasted like weed and smelled like tobacco. His ringed hands found your face as he pressed into the kiss further, both of you partially melting under the sensations. Your lips finally parted ways and he held you there, inches from him, staring at you like he was convinced you were a mirage.

Then, as if he finally accepted that you were not an illusion, there it was… creeping across his face like a cloud in front of the sun. That grin.

That stupid fucking grin.

Tag list: @ghosttownwherenoonegoes @urmomgov @daddyslittlewhore93 @hllfrclb

Authors Note: I do not give permission for my work to be copied and reposted on any platform, even with credit. If you’d like to share please reblog and/or use the original link.

[shiedagabe]

Fortunate Forgetfulness

Credit: Unknown (If you own this GIF please DM me so I can properly credit you)

Genre: Smut

Warning: NSFW / Blood Fetish

Pairing: L!Joker x Reader

Word Count: 1300

Today might've been the slowest day of your life. You sat behind the counter for countless hours waiting for costumers but nothing happened. The only people who actually came in the shop were either men in a rush or elderly people, but you didn't see anyone else. Did I forget something? You asked yourself. And then, when you finally looked outside, you noticed it - a huge fire coming from the hospital. It finally clicked. J went to visit Dent at his lowest point.

You immediately rang your boss but she didn't pick up the phone. You were desperate and anxious. Your foot was tapping rapidly on the floor and you were starting to hyperventilate faster and harder. Each rushing man that passed, ring from the phone and tap on the solid wooden floor left you more and more worried for your own sake. You were sure he was going to kill you. Sooner or later he would find out you weren't there and then you would finally learn the definition of pain. As soon as she picked up the phone with the sweetest "Hello?" you had ever heard you rapidly spewed an incomprehensible word diarrhea that neither her nor you understood. She immediately asked if you were alright to which you replied that you were simply worried sick for your significant other's well-being since he was in the hospital since the fire had started. You asked if you could take the day off so you could see if he was doing alright, to which she replied you should. Without hesitation, you put your apron down and rushed as fast as possible out of that store and immediately ran home. She was the sweetest person you had met and you would've considered her a good friend if not for the fact that you didn't see each other often.

As soon as you were standing in front of door you fumbled around for your keys but you couldn't find them. You must've left them at the store when you were heading home. But that didn't matter now, you weren't turning back. You shamefully knocked on the door and a very angry J answered it.

- You are two hours late. Where were you? - He said while looking directly into your eyes. You could feel your soul had given up and, at this point, was just admiting defeat.

- I was working. I'm sorry I forgot, J. It won't happen again, promise... - You replied in a tired and worn out voice.

- Oh trust me, this won't happen again, I'll make sure of it.

- Wait, what do you me-

Before you could reply you felt something knock you out. It wasn't him, he was completely still, but he wasn't worried about it, either.

You woke up and you were terrified. You were in a completely darkened room with nothing but a spotlight shining on your face. Suddenly, J came out of the shadows. He started walking towards you with a menacing stare. As soon as you tried to move your arm to stop him you noticed you were tied to a big wheel, like a ritualistic carnival.

- W-what're you doing?! - You were so scared you couldn't hear yourself think over the sound of your thumping heart. You know him well enough to understand that he'd be perfectly capable of doing something like this if he ever got uncontrollably mad.

- Welcome, to the wheel of fortune! - He laughed aloud as if he had an audience. - Due to um.. budgetary constraints it only has two sides. You'll have to figure them out on your own. Good luck! ‐ He maniacally cackled with malicious intent.

- No, no, no, wait! - You said before he turned the wheel with his hands. You could feel your blood rushing to your side and you were starting to feel lightheaded and dizzy. You tried to tell him to stop but you couldn't, your body was giving up on you extremely quickly.

As soon as you were about to pass out you felt a sharp knife land next to your head. You were so terrified you couldn't feel your heart pump anymore and you would have certainly reached for your pulse if you weren't tied to the wheel. He put you upright and removed the knife from the side of your head. You swore you thought it ripped out a couple of hairs.

- Congratulations! You're a um.. lucky winner!

- Great, j-just great. - You took a deep breath and calmed yourself down. - What do I get now?

He put the knife up to your cheek and scarred you without saying a word. He slowly started kissing and licking the scar, covering his lips with a delicious shade of red. He was dragging the knife up until he reached your lips. You slowly envelloped your lips and soon both of you had your lips covered in blood. You were simultaneously terrified and excited but you didn't know which one of the two you should feel right now. While you were kissing sensually he decided to move his hands down from your neck and into your tits. He started meticulously rubbing your nipples while he simultaneously grabbed you leg with his other hand. You had practically forgotten what had happened and the best part was yet to come.

He started moving his hand down on your waist, into your other leg and, finally, into your pussy. You weren't particularly wet after what had happened today but he sure was about to make you. While he laggardly rubbed your clit you were softly moaning and biting your lip in unadulterated pleasure. <More.> You whispered. You knew you were desperate and you couldn't stop yourself. You wanted to be his and at this point you would do anything for him. He started to move seductively while fingering you. He was slowly feeling your insides and you were absolutely delighted by it. You told him to stop for a second, muttering something in his ear which he followed to a T. He lowered the wheel and let your legs free by cutting the rope with the knife he was carrying earlier. You immediately wrapped his legs around his waist and were trying to pull him in but he was taking things a bit more slowly. He rubbed the tip of his dick against your wet pussy while laying on top of you. You were slowly kissing each other. However, while he was biting your lip, it started to bleed, so he started licking tenderly. Needless to say, that by itself got you got even more turned on. You scratched his back and pulled him in, biting his neck passionately. He knew this was the time to strike so he stuck his dick in you. That was it, that was when your chips were cashed. You felt nothing but pure ecstasy and you wanted much, much more. He started off slow but he quickly picked up the pace and, coincidentally, so did your breathing. With each thrust your mind was feeling more and more blank with thoughts about him. You could even say you felt overwhelmed now, but at the time you couldn't get enough of it. He grabbed both of your wrists and started thrusting harder. You always enjoyed it when he was serious around you, it left you more and more excited for what was about to come. He was kissing your neck and you were moaning as loud as you could. There were no restraints now, neither physical nor psychological. You freed one of your hands and you started intensely scratching his back again. That was a sure-fire way of showing him that you wanted everything he had to offer and more. And not only did he offer it, he also delivered. He gave everything he had to make you happy in that particular moment, even though he was the one in charge, still. J started to speed up even more even though you thought he was close to exhaustion and he was also starting to grab your hand extremely hard so you knew what was about to come. He was a big man, however, so he was starting to hurt you a little more than you had expected. You slowly pushed him away from you, got on your knees and started blowing him. He pushed your head straight into his base and came all over your mouth. You licked your lips in satisfaction and gave him a quick peck on the lips. You noticed that both of you had equally enjoyed that experience, regardless of that awkward start. And, if you haf to be honest, you'd like to try it again soon.

[bluesest]

A Husband

Hello! my name is Steve, I have had a long relationship with my husband for 6 years, his name is Max, since we met he has been super kind and super tender, besides he is still handsome, he does not have a muscular body, but He is not fat either, I really love him too much, I always try to accompany him in all his activities whenever I can, he also accompanies me and we have a great time, our work is really generous and we have plenty of free time, in general, I love my husband and He loves me.

I love many things about him, every part of him seems sexy to me, now here comes the fact that will give reason to this story, if you have a boyfriend or husband who has stomach problems in a row, let me tell you that you are someone lucky, I know it sounds disgusting but... I love my husband's diarrhea, don't worry! He doesn't spend all the time sick, nor does he have some terrible disease, but he has diarrhea several times a week, well, it's more liquid shit than diarrhea, since most of the time he doesn't get sick, it's just his stomach.

Normally, that weak stomach thing would embarrass anyone, something that also includes my husband, he has hardly ever admitted to anyone about his stomach problem, everyone except me, since we were dating, even if he didn't tell me, I knew that he had that weekly diarrhea, always the noise of his farts and the liquid coming out of his buttocks woke me up at dawn, but that only made me get closer to him, now we are happily married and as you can guess, his problems have not gone away gone.

One of the best experiences I have had with him was the following: It was 8pm, I was shaving in the bathroom, when suddenly, my husband knocked on the door: "How long will it take? I need to use the bathroom" now, me and my husband we always share space in the bathroom, even more so when it comes to my husband's downloads, I love listening to his ass while I take a shower, but this situation was different, besides my hands were busy, I wanted to try and make my husband feel I shit in his underpants, I knock on the door again: "Open me up quick!" and I replied: "Don't bother me, I'm busy, shit in some vase or whatever", I kept listening to pleas for a minute until I heard several farts coming out from behind the door, followed by sputtering, I quickly opened the door and there it was I saw, it was him, he was squatting, I saw that his black underpants had yellow diarrhea coming out of his holes, something that I love since both his solid and liquid poop are always that color, I told him to come in, but he was so weak that he couldn't stand up and reach the toilet, he was so sick that day... as an apology to him, I let him shit on the floor, since after all, it was my fault.

On another day, it was night, we were both watching tv shows in our room, when suddenly, he farted, he sounded wet, he quickly told me: "I have to go to the bathroom", our bathroom was in our room , he knows that I like to listen to him shit, so he left the bathroom door open, which just gave a good view of the toilet since he was pointing towards the door, that topic that I like his diarrhea was an open topic, we had already talked about that before, and even so, he doesn't consider me a dirty man, in fact he usually tells me that he likes to shit for me, once he got naked he told me: "Do you want to listen?" and then he sat down, his diarrhea used to be heard liquid and farts, but this was different, what was heard was a bomb, he splashed the water as he fell and his farts were quite strong, his flirtatious face changed to one of pain and his mouth He only came out "Aggghh" and "Uffff" and he laughed painfully, we both thought it was normal diarrhea, but this got out of control, I went to the bathroom and sat on the floor, he grabbed my hand and squeezed it tightly, I just listened SPLASH from the toilet all the time, when it was over, he lay down on the bed and put on an adult diaper(We have those diapers when these things happen) I directed my gaze to the toilet and I couldn't see a single drop of water, it was all a yellow sludge so big it soaked up the water in the toilet.

Another of my sexiest anecdotes: it was night (normally he had those diarrhea attacks at night) we were showering together, something normal for a couple, we talked about what happened to us that day, we both laughed when the expression of my husband changed and told me: "I have to poop" not all my husband's stools were liquid so I asked: "Normal or diarrhea?" He patted his stomach and said: "It's liquid and it's on its way" I asked him if he could hold on longer and he said: "It's strong, but I think I can hold on for a couple of minutes" The atmosphere became tense, no one shared a single word, his prediction of holding minutes failed, since only a minute had passed when he farted wet and some yellow liquid ran down his legs, he said: "I can't take it anymore, get out of the shower please, I'll shit here" you will wonder why he didn't just go to the toilet, he and I are very close and we always do activities together including taking a bath, besides, when he starts shitting himself he can't move, I got out of the shower and sat on it toilet, my husband wanted to bend over when his diarrhea came out, even when he was still standing, his butt was pointing at me and splashed on the bathroom floor, after that, the liquid drop was moderate since my husband controlled it and endured not to do a disaster, then he told me:" You know, this is not my first time shitting in a shower, when I was a teenager, my mom told me that when my poop was liquid, I should shit in the shower to not waste paper, I even pooped in the bathrooms at school so as not to waste paper, I thought it was something so sexy that sometimes I masturbated in the shower" after finishing that sentence, a scandalous fart made the whole fountain come out, staining the shower floor in yellow diarrhea, he kept shitting standing when I entered and kissed him , while I was wiping his ass touching his hot shit, he said to me, "You're the only one who likes this part of me, that's why I love you."

[sundaysundaes]

Make a Wish

Lee Donghyuck/Haechan X Reader | Smut, Fluff, Humor | NC-17 | College AU

Summary: It’s your birthday today and instead of giving you a box of gift, your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, decides to grant five of your wishes. You can’t help but feel a smirk creeping up your face. It’s time to get a little… creative.

This can be read as a stand alone but if you want to read it in order, you can start with Before Our Story Began and Jealousy. 

You were having a dream. A really nice dream about your boyfriend, Lee Donghyuck, where for once in his twenty-years of living, he promised himself not to whine about anything ever again for the rest of his life. He was situated in difficult positions—got an F for the papers that he’d worked on for days, overcooked his eggs until they tasted like a pile of ashes in his mouth during breakfast, or lost a battle because Jaemin was too distracted with Jeno’s dick rubbing against his ass during the game. And even then, he did not form any complaint or whine with his head thrown back like how he usually would’ve done. It was a pleasant dream, seeing him all mature like that.

But then you woke up to the sound of that boyfriend of yours, screaming—literally screaming—directly to your ear, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BABY GIRL,” as if it wasn’t the middle of the night where he could wake up the whole dorm.

So now, you’re glowering at him with bleary eyes, wiping your drool away with the back of your hand. Haechan shows his phone screen, grinning when he sees you noticing with squinted eyes that it’s 00.00 am and the date written underneath it is your birthday.

“Thanks,” you flatly mutter, sinking your face back into the pillow and pulling the blanket over your head. “I’ll see you in the morning. Night, Haechannie.”

“Hey, hey, hey, hey!” Your boyfriend is loud, too loud. You understand that Jaemin is having a sleepover at Jeno’s place so Haechan has the entire room for himself but that does not give him the right to scream right next to your ear like this. Especially when you’re this sleepy with nothing but exhaustion pumping through your veins.

“Noona~” He shakes you by the shoulder, peeling the blanket off your body and succeeding, even when you’ve tried your best to keep it tangled around you. “Come on, it’s your birthday. We have to celebrate!”

“We’ll celebrate when the sun is out. Like normal people.”

“No way, come on! You can sleep some other time!”

“You can be annoying some other time.”

He huffs loudly, puffing out his cheeks. “If you don’t get up, I’ll do things to you.”

You sigh. You know what kind of things he’s referring to and as much as you love it, you’re really drained from the part-time job you did earlier today. It’s true that you haven’t had sex with him for more than a week or so and you kind of miss doing those sort of things with him but you’re just so tired that you ended up crashing face-first on his bed earlier this evening the second you arrived in his room. You hadn’t even kissed him properly yet.

“Okay, fine.” You sit up on his bed with your shirt—or rather, his shirt—all wrinkled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “What do you want us to do? If it’s sex, you have to wait because I’m dead tired right now.”

“I wanted to give you your present, actually.” But the way he juts out his bottom lip seems like sex was exactly what he had in mind.

“Okay, so where is it?” You ask, considering you don’t really see him carrying a box of gift with a red bow wrapped around it.

“Well, it’s kinda predictable for me to be giving you like an actual present, so I thought hey, maybe I can grant you a wish. Any kind of wish,” he emphasizes, raising that eyebrow of his in the way he knows you like it. “If you know what I mean.”

You ignore him completely, though the sight of his sexy smirk still leaves you unfocused for a good few seconds. “Only one? On my birthday? Do you even want to do this or are you just making an excuse for not buying me a present?”

“Yah!” He scrunches his nose, playfully jabbing a finger to your stomach. “I don’t see you granting me any wishes on my birthday!”

“You wanted to come inside me and I allowed you to do just that. Twice. Stop being so ungrateful.”

That wipes the playful angry look off his face almost instantly. “You’re right, fine,” he concedes, looking at you with a disinterested look in his eyes. “How many wishes do you want then?”

“I don’t know, like, fifty?”

“The hell? Do I look like Santa to you?”

“If you keep eating those samgyeopsal past midnight, your belly will.”

“Stop body-shaming me, you little—“ He suddenly leaps over, attacking you with tickles to the sides of your stomach until you fall back to the bed with his bare chest hovering over your body. You retaliate by moving your legs around, trying to kick him away but failing every time. You can barely hold back your laughter. He only stops when your face grows scarlet and your chest heaving up and down, slightly out of breath. “I’ll give you three wishes,” he offers, a bit breathless as well. “Only because you look so irresistible right now with those lips of yours.”

“Make it ten, then.” You play with his necklace, twisting it around your finger. Your other hand draws a line on his golden skin, starting from the column of his neck down to his chest. “And I’ll be even more irresistible.”

“Hmm, tempting.” His lips slowly breaking into a sultry smile. “But no. I’ll give you three and that’s final.”

“If you give me five,” you say, hooking a finger around his silver necklace this time so you can bring his face down to yours and whisper in his ear, “I’ll let you cum in my mouth later today.”

His entire face beams up almost like a kid on his first school trip. “You get yourself a deal, sister!”

You smile, caressing his cheek softly with your fingers. His gaze softens, leaning against your touch like how a kitten would. “Well then, here’s my first wish,” you speak softly as if you’re telling a secret. Your lips are just a few inches away from his, and he licks his lower lip in anticipation. “No doing sexual activities whatsoever with me on my birthday.”

That sensual, excited look he has on his face earlier? Gone, being immediately replaced by sheer horror. “What?!” He shrieks when his realization sinks in. “BUT YOU SAID YOU’D LET ME CUM IN YOUR MOUTH LATER TODAY!”

You grin at him, almost cackling out loud. “It’s not fun being on the other side of a prank, is it now, Haechannie?”

“You’re so—” But even the infamous Lee Haechan can be at loss for words. “Not even a kiss?”

“Not even a hug,” you clarify, pushing his body away with both hands so he ends up sitting on his heels, only in his boxer. “I’ll allow you to hold my hands but that’s it.”

“But why?” The way he whines the word ‘why’, loud and long, is just so him. “Hugging is like a totally normal thing to do! People hug all the time! Even kids do! It doesn’t have to be sexual.”

“It becomes sexual when you keep popping out a boner during one.”

“Screw you.”

“Not today, Haechannie. Not today.”

***

Haechan, no matter how bratty he can act from time-to-time, does keep his promise intact. He hasn’t touched you for like eight hours by now, even when you were taking a shower inside his room and ‘accidentally’ leaving the bathroom door open. You heard him groan, “Seriously? You’re doing this to me now? You’re torturing me, Nooonaaaaa~” once during your shower, but he didn’t act on his desire. You’re actually quite surprised. You know just how much this is driving him crazy.

“Let’s get some breakfast,” you say, already looking all dolled up in the red dress he once bought for you. You know how much he likes it, know how much his eyes ogle your body from top-to-toe, staring at the way the fabric hugs your body perfectly, emphasizing your every curve.

He glares at you menacingly. “You’re doing this on purpose.”

“Doing what?” You play dumb, though you're sure your grin betrays you. “Come on, I’m starving. I’ll let you hold my hand as we walk, just make sure don't get a hard-on in the meantime.”

“Have I told you I hate you today?”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

The cafe near the dormitory you usually visit to get your daily intake of calories is closed for the day. “Why are they closed?” You ask, adjoining your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Maybe the old man has diarrhea or something.” He shrugs, hands buried deep inside the pocket of his black ripped jeans. The way they tightly hug his legs, combined with those holes, is becoming very distracting for you. “I sure as hell, hope so.”

“Will you let it go already? It was an honest mistake.”

“How on earth is putting wasabi in my cream soup an honest mistake? He totally did that on purpose!”

“Yeah, well, knowing how you just straight-up told him he looked like a walrus, I’m not even surprised he spiked your soup.”

“Now that’s an honest mistake, in which I tried to be honest but came out as a mistake.”

“You didn’t have to tell him he looked like a walrus, though.”

“But he did!” He groaned, stomping his feet on the ground. “He totally did! Look me in the eyes and tell me he didn’t look like a walrus, come on, I dare you.”

You roll your eyes. He’s always one for the dramatic. “Should we go somewhere else? How hungry are you right now?”

“For your love?” He smirked, sending you a flirty wink. “Starving.”

You make an exaggerated gesture of you vomiting your insides. “If you’re not that hungry, wanna just go grab some crepes and take a walk in the park?”

“Sure, why not.” His shoulders are relaxed as he yawns unattractively, though it still counts as adorable in your book. “Let’s drop by to that bakery you told me before on the way home. I’m gonna buy you a birthday cake.”

That earns a surprised smile from you. “I didn’t think you’d be this thoughtful.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m always thoughtful.”

“Is calling a middle-aged man a walrus a form of your thoughtfulness?”

He snorts, tilting his head to the side with his tongue poking the inside of his cheek. “Since when did you get this sassy?” You’re about to put another retort when he suddenly kisses your cheek.

“Hey!” You abruptly step away from him, palming the side of your face. “What did I tell you about my wish again?”

He grins, eyes turning into a cute pair of crescents. “Honest mistake, babe.”

And you poke him in the abs until he drops to his knees, whining, “Whyyyyyyyy?” into the air.

There’s this park near your campus that has nice scenery—unexpectedly picturesque, even—with a huge fountain in the center of it. The green leaves of the camphor trees sway from the morning breeze, intoxicating you with a scent similar to how the pine trees smell after the rain. Children are running around, playing tags, with their parents sitting next to the fountain, busying themselves with their phones while occasionally mutters, “Be careful, don’t run too much!” from time-to-time because apparently, that’s what parents do these days.

Haechan exhales loudly as he takes a seat on the nearest bench, straightening his legs and patting a spot beside him. “Come here. I want to cuddle.”

“There are people around.”

“Since when cuddling becomes a crime?”

“It makes people uncomfortable.”

“You saying no makes me uncomfortable.”

You sigh. There’s no way of winning an argument with him. “Fine, but I’m not sitting on your lap,” you say, ignoring his pout as you take a seat next to him and hand him his chocolate-banana crepes. “Careful, you’re wearing a white shirt,” you warn, offering him his spoon. “It’ll be hard to take the stain off if—”

“I’m not a child,” he grumbles, taking the food roughly off your hand and grimacing when the chocolate syrup drips down to his shirt, staining the fabric. He blinks in surprise with his mouth wide open, before he looks back at you, only to receive a flat stare in return.

“I literally just told you that a second ago.”

Haechan shrugs. “It’s Jaemin’s shirt anyway, so I don’t care.”

With that, you bring your focus back to the food in your hand—a strawberry crepes with a scoop of vanilla ice cream—and takes a bite, almost moaning in delight when the sugary taste hits your tongue. “Man, why did I ever decide to go on a diet? This tastes so gooooood~”

Your smile and small giggle seem to be contagious because Haechan mirrors you almost in the same way though it has nothing to do with the dessert he’s holding. He observes, silently taking notes of the joyful expressions you display on your face while muttering, “How cute,” under his breath. Both of you take a moment to enjoy your so-called breakfast, sometimes taking a sip of your hot coffee to balance the sweet.

“You know,” Haechan says as he gnaws at his dessert again. “This isn’t really how I expected to go when I said I’d grant your wishes.”

“Yeah?” You decide to humor him, though you already know what he’s thinking. “Did you expect me to wish for something else?”

He nods, licking chocolate syrup off his spoon. “Something about you sitting on my face.”

You choke on a piece of strawberry you just plopped into your mouth, and you can feel it blocking your airways. “What are you—” Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes, as you begin to cough fervently.

“What are you, a kid?” Haechan pulls your hair away from your face, patting your back. “There, there.”

“Why on earth would I ask about that?!” You shout when you can properly breathe again.

“I don’t know, I just thought that maybe you wanted me to eat you out.” The way he shrugs so nonchalantly as if he’s simply talking about finding a typo in the papers he just submitted leaves you dumbfounded. “I mean, I kept teasing you about it during sex but never really did it since you were always too stubborn to beg.”

“And do you realize now how annoying you are in bed?”

“That’s not my intention, though!” He genuinely seems a bit guilty. “You just look so cute trying to hold back when it’s obvious you want my tongue inside you—”

“We’re in public, Jesus Christ—”

“It’s your pride that we have a problem with. Why can’t you just for once say, with teary eyes, ‘Haechannie, please, fuck me with your tongue’—”

“People can hear—stop it!” You try to clamp your palm around his mouth, but he dodges it perfectly and places a playful kiss on the back of your hand instead. “And are you seriously begging me to beg you for it? I don’t think that’s how it works, Hyuck.”

“It’s because I actually really want to eat you out,” he groans, sighing into the air, “But I also want to see that cute embarrassed look on your face—do you see how big of a problem this is for me?” His whine falls short when he notices the look on your face. “Wait, are you blushing?”

“I’m not!” But you know you are, you’ve never been so ashamed before. How can you not? Your boyfriend is now a) talking about eating you out, loudly, in public, b) there’s this one passerby, a middle-aged woman who dresses in way too many layers for a day as hot as this, looking at you with the most disgusted look you’ve ever seen displayed on a person’s face, and c) Haechan is still talking about it. “Shut up and just get away from me!”

“Noona, your face is so red!” He’s giggling to himself now, his crepes dribbling more chocolate syrup onto his shirt from how much he’s moving. “Did I get you excited? Does this mean you’re gonna—”

“Next wish! I’ve already thought about my next wish!” You quickly avert his attention, desperately pushing his face with one hand so he’ll stop making kissy faces at you. “I want you to perform a song.”

“What, here?”

“Yeah, you don’t have a problem singing in front of people, right?”

“Of course not,” he snorts loudly. “I have an amazing voice. You know, people should really be paying me to hear me sing, actually.”

You resist the urge to roll your eyes, though deep down in your heart, you kind of admit that he really does have an amazing voice. His vocal is unique and distinct, easily noticeable even if there are a hundred vocalists in the room. And the way he does his adlibs whenever he sings his favorite tunes actually makes the song sounds a thousand times better. There’s no way you’re going to tell that to his face, though. His ego is already big enough without you feeding him compliments.

“Well then, you’re in luck.” You grin mischievously, nodding your head toward a band that’s been playing acoustic songs near the fountain for quite some time. There are three people playing instruments, with one of them being the vocalist and you comment inwardly in your head that Haechan sounds so much better than him—but maybe you’re just biased. The band is promoting their demo album, trying to get people’s attention to recognize their self-composed songs and buy their album if they fit their taste. No crowds  are gathering in front of them, and you feel kind of sorry because they actually sound pretty good. “If you follow my wish and do it right, you could probably get some tips along the way.”

“You want me to sing with the band? I don’t think they’ll allow me though.”

“They will. I’ll buy their album in exchange.”

Haechan doesn’t seem eager at the slightest. “Must we waste our money away?”

“What, are you scared?” You taunt, raising one of your eyebrows challengingly because you know how much he hates to lose. And it works as expected, because Haechan is now standing up, throwing the rest of his crepes away to the nearest trash bin, and cracks his knuckles.

“Lee Haechan never runs away from a challenge.” He has this annoying cocky grin displayed on his face. “Tell me what song you want me to sing.”

“Your favorite. Man in The Mirror.”

“Dude, I nailed that song. Is this even a challenge?” He clicks his tongue, cocking his head. “So easy.”

He already has taken a few steps away, heading toward the band, when you stop him dead on his tracks by saying, “I know you nailed it. That’s why we have to keep it interesting so here’s my wish: I want you to sing out of tune.”

Even if you said that he was turning on his heels at the speed of light, it wouldn’t be too much of an exaggeration. “NO FUCKING WAY.”

“Ah, but sadly,” you fake a pout, mocking him, “You promised you’d grant my wish.”

“But that’s just stupid! Why would I do something like that? Why would anyone do something like that?” He shakes his head furiously. “And doing this to my favorite singer?! Hell no!”

“Haechannie.”

“No.”

“Haechannie.”

“NO.”

You sigh, walking closer to him and pull him down by the hand to close the gap between your heights and murmur in his ear. “If you do that,” you breathe out, trying your best to sound as sexy as you can, “I might consider buying that customized dildo you want this weekend.”

Haechan has his jaw hanging low on his face, looking at you with his wide eyes shaking in disbelief. “Oh my God,” he whines, placing both hands on your shoulders before rocking you back and forth. “Noonaaaaa~ This is soooo not fair. You can’t do this to me!”

You chuckle at how childish he is. “So, how is it going to be, Lee Donghyuck-sshi?”

He contemplates hard about it—really hard, probably the hardest thinking he ever did in his entire life—nibbling on his lower lip as he does it. After a moment has passed, he finally ends it with his signature pout. “But you promise, right? No pranking me this time?”

“I promise,” you say with a firm nod but you have your fingers crossed behind your back.

“Fine,” he says as if it was the heaviest decision he has ever made. “Then, I’ll sing… off-key—eww!” He sticks out his tongue, clutching his arms around his stomach. “I’m about to throw up my crepes just by thinking about it.”

“Good luck.” You pat his shoulder. “Oh, and make sure you sing the first part like you always do, so people will notice and start listening to how amazing your voice is. And when they’re so into it, as you get to the second chorus, that’s when you start singing off-key.”

Haechan’s eyes are lifeless when they bore into you. “Isn’t it time for you to go back to hell, Satan?”

“Remember, Haechannie,” you press a finger to your lips, winking at him. “Customized. Dildo.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too.”

So both of you get into the business. After the band performed an acoustic version of their titled song, you approach them with a smile, offering your hand to the vocalist. You tell them how talented they are, making sure to bedazzle them with compliments and your charming attitudes so things can go as planned. It’s actually not that hard trying to convince them to accompany your boyfriend sing, especially when you say you’re going to buy two of their demo albums.

“What song do you want to sing, dude?” The vocalist, a friendly man most likely in his twenties with a goatee on his face, asks Haechan while offering a fist bump. Your boyfriend grimaces, bumping his fist against him like it’s the most disgusting thing he’s ever done.

“Something wrong?” The man asks. “You look kinda pale, man.”

“He just ate something bad during breakfast earlier,” you come to answer him instead, rubbing Haechan’s back soothingly. “But he’s fine now. Can you guys play Man in The Mirror?”

“Michael Jackson, right? Sure thing.”

You elbow your boyfriend playfully on the side of his stomach. “Sure thing, he said.”

“I want to die.”

“Aaw, poor baby,” you pucker your lips, having the best time of your life making fun of him. “Now off you go, I’ll be right here.” And you bring your iPhone in the air, camera-ready with a tap of your thumb. Haechan has his eyes on the standing microphone, looking at it like it’s the most horrifying thing he’s ever witnessed in his life.

Haechan just barely takes a step forward before he runs back to your spot again, all jumpy and twitchy. “I can’t—I can’t do this—this is so embarrassing—”

“On three, okay, man?” The vocalist takes a seat on one of the little stools they have placed next to the amplifiers with his Fender guitar placed firmly on his lap. And before Haechan can give him a nod or any sign in return, he begins counting and the entire band plays the song. There’s no way out of this now.

Haechan finally walks toward the mic with his soul most likely leaving his body with every step he takes.

You give him a cheer as loud as you can—not to support him, but so you can gather people’s attention. Haechan shushes you down in panic before he finally takes the mic, constantly throwing ice daggers at you with his eyes. You begin to chant his name—“Lee Donghyuck! Lee Donghyuck!”—and with every shout of it, Haechan dies a little bit more.

Haechan falls two beats behind before he finally sings into the microphone, his voice resonating through the air. He does sound amazing, albeit a little nervous and that’s probably just because he’s doing the dare. He usually sounds confident, his voice sounding strong and clear not caring if the room is empty or filled with people so this anxious version of him really makes you think that maybe you’ve forced him a little bit too far.

He completes the first part of the song rather easily and the entire band behind him nod their heads along to the music, amazement sparkling in their eyes. You can see the vocalist quietly mouths, “Damn, he’s good,” to the member sitting beside him who shortly agrees wholeheartedly. You can’t help but smile at that, looking like a proud mom.

People, one-by-one, begin to gather around you, whispering to one another, asking, “Who is he? What band is this?” or simply praising his vocal and your smile grows wider. It vanishes almost instantly, though, the second you hear some girls chattering behind your back, talking about how attractive Haechan looks—especially in that leather jacket and those dark combat boots he’s wearing. You never pegged yourself to be a jealous, overprotective girlfriend before but with Haechan, perhaps you’re beginning to turn exactly into that.

Haechan, who seems pretty pleased with how he sang the first part, suddenly begins to fidget on his feet. The more he gets closer to the second chorus, the paler he becomes and he has his eyes tightly shut when he’s finally there, singing the first two lines in the right way before forcing himself to sing off-key.

You blurt out laughing but immediately clasp a hand over your mouth. Haechan looks like he’s in pain, and the rest of the band has their eyebrows furrowed in question, looking back and forth at each other, probably asking, what the hell is wrong with this dude, he was doing so good before. The audience begins to look at one another, eyebrows knitting in concern. New visitors stop in their tracks, looking at your boyfriend with judging looks on their faces. Even the parents that were so busy with their phones before begin to lift their heads from the screen, trying to know who is this terrible singer and why is he wailing like this.

Haechan sounds so awful and you can only imagine how much this is killing him from the inside. He barely gets to the end of the second chorus before he turns to face the band, bowing his head and shouting, “I’m so sorry!” before he scrambles on his feet, running toward you.

“Wait, Hyuck, you haven’t finished—” Your protest ends in laughter when Haechan rashly hooks an arm around your shoulder, breaking through the crowd and forcing you to match his steps so you can leave the park for good.

He’s never stepping into this place ever again, you’re sure of it.

***

On the way back to the dorm, you stop by the bakery you’ve been wanting to visit and Haechan buys you a birthday cake as promised but with a permanent pout displayed on his place.

“A cake for your girlfriend?” The cashier lady asks with a friendly smile.

Haechan simply pouts harder, muttering, “Yes, my super annoying girlfriend.” And you pop out from behind his back, raising a hand in the air as you beam at her with a cheeky grin, “Yep, that’s me!”

Haechan walks next to you on the sidewalk as if he just did the longest marathon he ever did in his life—all drained out and slow on his steps. His shoulders are hunched forward, his eyes droopy and every time you take a peek and share a glance at him, he’ll start fuming again—like an angry child, upset for being left alone in his grandma’s house while the whole family went on a trip.

“Okay, knowing how fast you’re walking right now,” you mutter sarcastically, looking at the nonexistent watch you wear around your wrist for dramatic effects, “We’ll be back in our dorm at approximately eighty-four years from now.”

“Whatever. I’m still angry at you.”

“But we just started! I thought you wanted to make me happy.” You try to look as sad as possible, batting your eyelashes at him. “It’s my birthday, you know.”

“I wasn’t aware that making you happy equals giving me emotional distress.” After two seconds passed by in silence, he adds, “And physical pain.”

You smile at the attitude he’s giving, wondering just how cute can this man be by the end of the day. Maybe you should keep torturing him a little.

Just a little bit more.

“Haechannie,” you roll his name off your tongue in a playful manner, wrapping both arms around his right one. “I’m ready for my next wish.”

“Didn’t you listen to any word I just said?”

“See that old lady over there?”

“Yeah, you clearly didn’t.” Haechan follows your gaze with a heavy sigh, not quite pleased with how easily you ignore his complaints, and he sees a grey-haired woman, old enough to be his grandmother, sitting alone on a bench with a book on her hands and her glasses hanging dangerously low on the bridge of her nose. Her cane lays still on her side, and by the look of it, she appears to be waiting for someone.

“Oh come on, leave her alone,” Haechan says, already looking sorry for her even when you haven’t said anything yet. “She’s so old and she looks so frail. I am not going to do your stupid dare at the cost of her life.”

You roll your eyes.“Relax, I won’t ask something that stupid.”

“Oh, because your first wish was just so brilliant, I suppose?”

“I’m serious, I’m not that mean.” Not to her, at least. “I just want you to sit next to her on the bench and act like it’s the worst day of your life.”

“I won’t be calling that acting,” he grumbles. “I am having the worst day of my life.”

“What? I thought we’re having fun!” You try so hard to look sympathetic enough for him but it’s almost an impossible deed to do when you’re seconds away from laughing.

“You’re having fun.” He squints his eyes menacingly. “I’m having a fucking seizure.”

“You’re fine, don’t be too dramatic.” You card your fingers through his hair, pushing back the bangs from his eyes to showcase his temple exactly the way you like it. “Well, I want you to act sad—like, really sad, bawling your eyes out and everything—and when she asks you why, explain that you just found out you’re adopted.” You press something against his palm. “Here.”

Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he takes a look at it. “What’s this?”

“A postcard with a picture of your parents. I just bought it at the minimart before when you were in the bakery.”

“But…” He stares in horror. “They’re Americans.”

“Exactly.” You know there’s a shit-eating grin blooming on your face but you cannot wipe it off. “You can walk away after she tries to comfort you or give you some advice or something.”

Haechan keeps scowling at you as if he wanted to eat you alive, but you charm him with your brightest smile until he sighs and tucks the postcard in the back pocket of his jeans. “You know I’ll pay you back for this later, right?”

“Wha—I thought you said you’ll grant me any wishes for free!”

“MAN, IF I COULD JUST TURN BACK TIME—“ He yanks out his hair, making you a bit worried because you love his soft, adorable brown locks and he’s been tugging at them for quite some time today. “Okay, fine, I’ll do it. I no longer have any shame left in my body anyway. Or soul, for that matter.” He turns on his heels, straightening his jacket as if that could give him more courage. “You better not blink your eyes.”

“It’s okay even if I do.” You bring out your phone, waving it in the air. “’Cause I’m recording it. This will go viral on Youtube.”

“I hate you.”

“And I love you too, Haechannie.”

It takes a good ten minutes for Haechan to prepare himself for the stupid dare he’s about to do, even though he previously claimed he had no shame whatsoever. He paces back-and-forth at the sidewalk, stomping his feet once or twice restlessly, and mutters quietly to himself, “Man up. Man up, you idiot. It’s just a stupid dare.” You desperately want to have a miniature size of this Haechan and keeps him inside your pocket so you can watch him being nervously cute all day long with his cheeks puffed in anger.

“Okay, I’m going.” And he finally steps forward, braver this time, and sits down on the other end of the bench, twiddling his fingers in anxiety. You bite your lip to contain your laughter and press record.

Almost fifteen seconds have passed by and there’s no reaction, not even a glance, coming from the old lady. You can see Haechan nibbling persistently on his lip, his feet tapping worriedly on the ground before he finally lets out the loudest, heaviest sigh in the history of mankind. It’s so loud that it makes the old lady jumps on her seat, her hands going to her chest, her book left abandoned on her lap. Haechan also looks surprised knowing that she’s surprised and everything just looks so hilarious that your camera begins to shake from how hard you try not to laugh.

“I-is there something wrong, my dear?” The old lady asks, shifting her body a little on her seat so she can face him properly.

Haechan takes a deep breath and begins his act by burying his face in his hands, faking a sob. “I’m sorry, I can’t help it. I just—” He sniffles loudly, trying to make it obvious to her that he’s in agony. “It’s the worst day of my life.”

And it’s cheesy, how he acts, but she seems to buy it—or maybe she’s just too kind. “May I ask what happened? I’m not sure I can help but…” She lands her shaky hand on his back, caressing him soothingly. “It’s always better to pour your feelings out instead of bottling them inside.”

She sounds so genuinely compassionate, unlike the maniacal laughter that currently tumbles down your lips.

Haechan lifts his head, turning towards her. His eyes begin to droop, making him look like a kicked puppy. “I just found out…” He sniffs for dramatic effects. “That… That I’m adopted!” And he loudly whimpers into his hands again.

The old lady gasps, covering her parted lips with her thin fingers. “Oh my… Did your parents tell you that?”

“No, it’s even worse. I found out on my own when they were talking in their room.” Haechan rummages his back pocket, handing her the postcard. “Here, look. It’s a picture of my parents.”

The lady takes the postcard with a pair of heartbroken eyes but they soon begin to change when she notices that the two people in the picture are straight-up Americans, while Haechan, needless to say at this point, looks like the most common—though far more handsome—Korean boy you can encounter on daily basis.

“I know,” Haechan says, wiping a nonexistent tear out of his eyes and fakes another sob. “Surprising, isn’t it? I mean, we look so much alike, there’s no way I would’ve guessed I was adopted if I didn’t hear them talking about it behind my back.”

The old lady is still pretty much dumbstruck with how bizarrely stupid everything is, but she’s too kind to call him out on it. She hands the postcard back to him, looking much less sorry this time, and takes a moment of silence. Haechan cries against his palms again, and you wonder if he’s only faking it or being real about it this time because the entire situation is just painfully awkward.

“You see, my dear,” she begins, voice gentle and reassuring but the sincerity isn’t really the same as before. “Sometimes it really can feel like the world is ending, and I know that this must be hard for you,” she stops to knit her eyebrows, “no matter how obvious this should’ve appeared to you. But maybe it’s not about having a picture-perfect family, but about finding beautiful moments.”

“You’re right,” Haechan hurriedly agrees, his eyes twinkling in delight knowing that this excruciating dare is about to end. “I’m happy with them being my family, even if they’re not, you know, really my parents.”

She smiles but it kind of looks like a grimace, and she says her next words with a gentle pat on his back. “But shouldn’t you have noticed about it sooner, though, dear? You look nothing like them.”

And Haechan winces, not sure how to react. “I could be, uhh…” He licks his lips nervously. “Quite dumb, sometimes.”

“Yes,” she nods, still patting his back. “You certainly can.”

A tall man, at least ten years older than Haechan, approaches their spot with a paper bag in his arms. “Mom, are you ready to—” he stops to take a look at your boyfriend, trying to understand the situation of why is his mother sitting way too close to a guy dressed flirtatiously in a leather jacket and boots with her hand caressing his back. “What are you guys doing?”

“Oh, it’s okay. I’m adopted,” Haechan says, handing him the same stupid picture. “She’s just consoling me about it.”

He takes a look and sends him his biggest judging look. “Dude, what are you, stupid?”

***

Haechan is still fuming all the way back to his dorm and no matter how much you apologize about it, he still doesn’t want to talk to you. He throws himself on his bed with his shoes still on the second he enters his room. You’re still smiling quietly to yourself, can barely handle all the cuteness he’s emitting.

“Haechannie,” you gently call, sitting on the edge of his bed. “Are you still upset?”

No answer.

“Look, I said, I’m sorry. Talk to me, please?”

Haechan has his face pressed flat against his comforter and you secretly wonder whether he can even breathe in that position. A few seconds passed by in silence before Haechan finally mumbles, “Did it make you happy?”

“What, you doing my stupid dares?” You can already feel another laughter bubbling up your throat but you have to contain it. You can’t hurt him more than this. “Yes and I know I’ve been mean to you and I’m sorry for that, but you were so cute.” You run a hand along his spine before you carefully caress his hair as a mother would do to a child. “Please don’t be mad.”

He eventually sits up, crossing his legs on the bed, sniffling a little bit while still avoiding eye contact. “Well, I guess, as long as you’re happy.”

“Are you crying?”

“No,” he states, practically puffing out his cheeks by now. “I’m just so embarrassed with all of this. Why are you being so mean to me?”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, come here.” You motion him to come closer, and you know it’s breaking the rules of your first wish but you don’t care. This giant teddy bear desperately needs a hug.

Haechan immediately sighs when you stand with your knees pressed on the bed, wrapping both arms around his head. He sinks his face to the crook of your neck, lowly murmuring, “I hate you,” with his breath fanning your skin.

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

“Yeah, because you’re mean.”

“But I love you even more today,” you softly reply, pulling away a little so you can trace your fingers along the smoothness of his cheek. “You’re so adorable, Hyuck, do you know that?”

“Is singing out of tune and harassing old lady your kink or something?”

“That’s not it.” You pinch the bridge of his nose, making him yelp a little. “It’s just the way you forced yourself to do these things—these things you hate the most—for me and asking me whether they made me happy or not, while still being all grumpy about it. You’re just so cute and I love you for that.”

The sun is setting outside his window, illuminating his face with such a warm, beautiful glow that somehow makes him appear a bit more melancholic and angelic at the same time. He finally drags his eyes back on yours, with his bottom lip still jutting out slightly. He says the next four words so quietly under his breath that you can barely hear them. “What?”

“I said, I love you too,” he repeats in a rush, before he sinks his face in the slope of your neck again, whining all the way. “Don’t make me say it like this, it’s weird.”

And you notice that this is actually the first time he truly confesses his love for you. He’s joked about it a lot, toying with your feelings at least ten times within a day, casually throwing the word love as if it meant nothing more than mere decoration for his flirtatious lines. But now that he’s saying it in all the seriousness he can muster, he can barely look you in the eyes, can barely say it without whispering, and it’s cute how the usually confident Lee Haechan, crumbles into nothing but a shy little boy facing his feelings for the first time.

“Ah seriously,” he murmurs against your hair. “What are you doing to me? I’m not usually like this.”

You can’t help but tease him. “Yes, you’re usually more satanic.”

“Yah—”

And you stop him with a soft kiss to his lips. You can feel him taking a sharp breath, his arms stiffening as they circle your waist. You’re about to kiss him again when you feel him tensing against your body. Noticing how he looks a bit baffled, you carefully tug yourself away. “What is it?”

“I thought you said we couldn’t kiss today,” he tells in such a small voice.

“I said no sexual activities,” you retort with a sly smirk, making a poor excuse because you really miss kissing him. “This isn’t sexual,” you say, pressing your lips against his again but stop before he can return it. “This is romantic.”

He’s so distracted with your lips that he can barely take his eyes off them even when he talks. “You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?”

“Maybe.” You can’t help but grin but it does not stay long when Haechan suddenly hooks his arm around your hip and pulls you closer until you’re forced to climb into his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist for balance.

“Haechan—” Your protest is swallowed by his kiss, his lips chasing after yours almost frantically. You can tell how much he misses you from the way his lips move against yours, or from the way he moans softly at the back of his throat as he settles his hand on the side of your face. His other hand holds you tighter by the waist, his fingers fisting the fabric of your dress. He angles your head to the side, kissing you with parted lips and swiping his tongue along your lower one so you’ll gain him entrance.

“Noona,” he whispers between quick breaths, sounding almost needy. “Noona, I need—”

“Okay, stop.” You place your arms on his shoulders, expanding the space between you. You can’t believe you almost got carried away. “Now this is getting sexual. Let’s head over to my next wish.”

“Wait—but I’m—” He stares at you bewilderedly, not believing the fact that you just casually drag your body away from his lap, smoothen down your hair as if nothing just happened. “Are you serious? You’re playing with me again? When I’m like this?”

“Sorry.” You peck him on the cheek, hiding your grin. “So, for my next wish—”

“Yah! Listen to what I’m saying—”

���I want you to—”

“Noonaaaaaaaa~”

“—sing me a lullaby.” His whining stops abruptly at your words and you quickly explain further before he does it again, “I’m sleepy so I’m gonna take a nap. Your job is to sing me a lullaby until I fall asleep. Easy, right?”

“You really just do whatever you want, don’t you?”

“Only for today. You, on the other hand, do that every day.”

“Fair enough. Do I get to choose the song?”

“Sure.” Knocking your high heels off your feet, you lie down on his bed with a thump, contentedly basking in his scent because his pillows, the duvet underneath you, the soft sheet below your fingertips—everything smells pleasantly like him. Haechan takes off his shoes and his leather jacket—which almost earns a loud protest from you because he looks so good with that jacket on—throwing them somewhere near the bed without care and he lies down by your side, facing you.

You turn your body to face him as well. “Hey, handsome.” You smile sheepishly at him.

He seems a bit caught off guard by it, but smiles back. “Hi.”

“Can we cuddle?”

He laughs softly at that. “Come here.” He gathers your entire figure easily in his arms and you sink your nose to his chest, humming in pleasure. “Stop being so cute, you’re torturing me.” You only giggle in response.

Haechan begins to sing, slowly at first as if he suddenly feels pressured with the way the room is so deep in silence, leaving no excuse for him to make in case he fails. You notice that, so you sneak both of your arms around his waist, snuggling even closer. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

“I’m not. Why would I be?” He masks his slightly shaky voice with a chuckle. “It’s just that your hair keeps getting into my mouth whenever I try to sing.”

“Of course.” And you keep your lips tightly shut, giving him the time he needs.

Haechan takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. “Had a perfect picture in my head, with you in the most beautiful dress,” he sings, beautiful notes flowing down from his lips, making you feel like everything around you becomes a blur and there’s only him with his velvety voice and his soft, warm breathing. “I look happy as ever, how did I let you go again.”

He gains confidence with more seconds passing by and you can feel his arms growing slack around your waist, no longer as tense. “Now I'm standing alone in the rain, like the kinda movie that we used to hate. Wish I could take back the time, but I know this time it's real.”

You’re not sure whether it’s because of the lyrics or the way he sings, but as beautiful as his honeyed voice sounds, you can’t help but feel a tinge of sadness growing inside you. It’s as if he’s not singing the song, he’s living through it. And you wonder maybe he’s had his heart broken by someone before—or maybe he’s just so good at putting emotions to his song, you’re still not sure yet.

“Hate that I'm singing this song. Hate that I have to be strong.” Haechan absentmindedly runs his fingers up and down your spine, before he tangles them around the strands of your hair, gently stroking them. “Hate that you're gone. I hate all my flaws. Hate that you love someone else. Hate everything. Just hate everything right now.”

It’s so genuine and soft the way he serenades you, baring his soul and you’re not even looking at his eyes as he sings it. By the end of it, you can’t help but ask him a question. “Will you be singing that song if you ever break up with me?”

He curls up closer, burying the tip of his nose in your hair. “No,” he says but continues before your disappointment can sink in, “If we ever break up, I won’t be doing anything besides getting you back. I don’t like to lose, you know how I am. And I definitely don’t want to lose something—or rather, someone—this important to me.”

“Stop flirting with me,” you chime in, pulling away a little so you can take a look at his face. “You already have me wrapped around your fingers.”

But Haechan doesn’t smile or act cocky about it. He just takes his time analyzing your face, taking in your features as he trails his fingers down from your hair, to your cheek, and finally stopping at the curve of your lips. “I was so worried before though when you met your ex behind my back. It’s not that I don’t trust you, it’s just…” He loses his words when you begin to kiss his fingertips, his eyes becoming unfocused. “I don’t know, I just got anxious about it. I’ve never had someone like you before so…”

It really just sinks in that he wasn’t merely angry because you were seeing your ex-boyfriend again, he was just afraid. He was terrified of losing you but didn’t know how to react properly. He keeps on telling that you belong to him, that he owns you and everything but he doesn’t intend to dominate you. It’s just a way for him to convince himself that you’re still with him, and not in someone else’s arms.

You can feel your lips curving up into a smile. He’s just a clueless boy, probably still as inexperienced as you are when it comes to love.

You’re sinking more into his arms, sighing as he rakes his fingers down your spine. When silence starts to hang in the air, tension growing thick, Haechan spares you a glance. “Noona?”

You’re not sure what it is inside you that drives you wild but when you’re awake from your reverie, your lips are on his again, melting against his heat, and desperately asking him to deepen the kiss.

The way he inadvertently moans against your lips indicates that your kiss catches him off guard but he soon finds back his pace. He crawls on top of you, pressing your body closer, chest meeting chest, and murmurs your name with his silvery voice against your ear, successfully sending goosebumps to every inch of your body.

“Forget my first wish.” You can barely recognize your own voice from how husky it has become. He has his lips tracing your jawline, about to map his way down but you keep him still, not wanting to erase the warmth of his lips on yours just yet. “It’s a stupid wish anyway. I don’t know why I even asked that.”

Haechan forms a space between you, just to take another look at your face. His eyes are hooded, gleaming with desire. “Well then,” he rubs his thumb along your lower lip, while his tongue traces his own. “Can I kiss you more?”

“Yes.” It sounds more like a plead than affirmation, strongly painted with urgency. “Come here.”

Haechan’s lips are warmer than how they usually felt but you can’t be certain. It’s been a while since you last shared an intimate moment with him and you just now realized that it really isn’t just him who desperately seeks attention. You crave his touch way more than he does for yours.

But maybe that’s not true after all, because Haechan has his eyebrows furrowed as he kisses you passionately, his lips keep searching for yours whenever you try to pull away to catch a breath. The way he sinks his fingers along your hips, how determined he is in keeping you close to the point you can start counting on his eyelashes—everything that he does screams his emotions vividly. How much he longs for you. How much he misses the taste of your breath on his tongue.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper, your fingers pressed against his jaw. “Please…”

Haechan blinks, a bit startled and perhaps a tad confused as well, considering you stopped him from going too far earlier. But he doesn’t complain and takes every chance he can get, if it means he can be closer to you. It’s so soft, the way he kisses you now, as if he’s having his first kiss, not sure if he’s doing it right but you don’t mind. It’s rare, being kissed by him like this, and somehow it makes your skin tingle as if merely just a touch of his lips is sending electricity to your entire body.

“I love you,” you whisper as you share his breath. “I really do love you, Hyuck.”

The way he halts his action for a good two seconds, probably letting your words sink into his head, makes your own heart skip a beat or two. And you’re worried if you say too much, or if you’ve become too needy and it annoys him, but when you sneak a glance at him, you notice how his cheeks are tainted with red before he leans closer, roughly murmuring, “Just kiss me again,” against your lips.

But the way he’s holding your body makes you feel way more loved than the words he said earlier. And he’s taking his time, just gently moves his lips against yours, his tongue slipping in only slightly to steal a taste. But you sigh against his mouth either way because it’s not only his kiss that weakens you, it’s his entire presence—the way his warmth seeps through the fabric of your dress, the way he’s holding back a moan when you unconsciously tug his locks a little bit too hard, or the way he just naturally smells so sweet, almost honey-like, numbing your other senses at once.

“Noona,” he breathes heavily, tilting his head to the side so you’ll have better access to running your lips against the skin of his neck. “I want… I need…” he trails off, too busy looking at the way you’re slipping your fingers underneath his shirt, tracing his hot feverish skin with your cold digits. “I really need you now.”

“Then keep touching me,” you mumble against his jaw, searching for his lips again. “I want to feel you too. Come closer.” But even if your words speak a sense of urgency, your fingers still feel as light as a feather on his skin and he seems to notice that, because he’s keeping up the same pace, not suddenly rushing to tear your clothes apart like how he usually does.

He chants your name over and over again, almost like a prayer, his desire running thick in his veins. As he moves down, his fingers find their way to the zipper of your dress, pulling it down slowly, and he takes his time to kiss every inch of your body that’s revealed to him one by one.

“You don’t know how much I’ve been wanting to do this to you,” he confesses, his nose skimming along the skin of your shoulder. “I’ve missed you.”

“Me too.” You arch your back, desperately needing to close the space between you. “I’ve missed you too.”

And you’re half-expecting him to put on a smirk and asks, “Yeah? How much, exactly?” But this time, he doesn’t. His lips are busy marking your skin, sucking gently at the spot that makes you curl your toes. He brings his eyes back to yours again when your lips moan out his name.

“Don’t do that,” he says, looking like he’s gradually losing control of himself. “You know how that drives me crazy.”

“I thought you liked it.”

“I love it, but—” He suddenly presses his lips hard against yours, as if there’s another person inside him that’s been screaming at him to latch his lips with yours before he wastes more second talking nonsense. And you try to reciprocate the movement of his lips with the same speed but he doesn’t give you much room to improvise. He knows what he’s doing, all you need to do is just relax and blend into the kiss. He already makes everything so easy for you. The problem is, he makes you feel like something is pressing against your chest and your stomach is doing crazy flips over and over again.

He finally stops again when you gasp his name.

“Ah, no, seriously.” It’s like he’s fighting a battle within himself, pulling away from you and shaking his head. “I want to take it slow today, Noona, but you moaning my name like that is not making it easy for me so please, just don’t—” He exhales, pressing his temple against yours with his eyes closed. “Don’t torture me like that.”

It’s cute how he tries to hold back, trying to be as gentle as possible. “I’m fine with the way you usually hold me, though.” It’s tempting, and he’s pretty much dazed with the sultry smirk you have on your face, but he shakes his head again, snapping him back from his own thoughts.

“No, it’s your birthday,” he says, eyes switching back and forth from your eyes to your lips as he tries to enunciate his reason. “I want to make it special.”

You raise an eyebrow suspiciously. “So you’re saying that all the sex we did before today wasn’t special to you?”

He gapes. “No, that’s not—”

“Just kidding.” You giggle, pecking his cheek. “Okay, then, do your thing.” You sit up straight so you can undress properly and his eyes are instantly glued to your chest when your bra slips down your shoulders. You don’t really intend to make it sexy, but the way his eyes grow wide when you say “I’m all yours,” and lies down on his bed again in nothing but your laced underwear seems to indicate that that’s exactly how you look in his mind.

He mutters an almost inaudible fuck under his breath before he snaps himself out of his reverie again. He stands with his knees pressed on the bed, pulling his shirt over his head before he hovers back on top of you, peppering wet kisses from your ear to your neck before he ends it with his tongue trailing down the valley of your breasts.

He stops to reach for his drawer, searching for a condom while you struggle to unfasten his belt and unbutton his jeans. You’re finished a few seconds sooner and already have your back pressed against the sheet again when he crawls on top of you with a packet of condom between his teeth.

“No, wait.” You catch him by his arm as he’s about to tear the package with his teeth. “I’m on the pill today too so you can do it without.”

“Well, fuck,” he exhales, latching his lips back to yours again. “Why are you being so nice to me today?”

“You literally just complained about me being mean to you a few minutes ago.”

“Well, now that I get to come inside you again, I’m taking all my words back.” He gives playful kisses on your nose and cheeks before he licks around your face like how a cute little puppy would.

“Stop it, you’re gross!” But your airy laughter soon begins to vanish, only to be replaced with a sense of uncertainty. You begin to feel nervous when he hooks his fingers around the edge of your underwear and pulling it down your legs, baring yourself completely for his eyes. He’s seen you naked countless times and you never really felt this nervous before so it must be because—

“You seem to be thinking about something,” he interrupts, parting your legs so he can slide in between them. “Something wrong?”

“Umm—I—“ It’s not the way you stutter that betrays you; it’s the prominent blush that stains your cheeks. But you have to do this. You have to say this. Not just for your sake, but his too. “Haechannie..?”

“Yeah, Noona?”

“For my next wish…” You wet your lip anxiously, swallowing your breath, your heart nearly leaps out of your chest. “C-can you eat me out, please…?”

It’s the first time you’ve seen him so startled by your action—or by anything, really—to the point that he has to remind himself to blink. “What?”

You groan, hastily grabbing a pillow nearby and use it to cover your face. “Don’t make me say it again, you idiot!” You expect him to laugh, or worse, mock you about it but instead, he snatches the pillow away, throwing it to the side, and wraps his fingers around your wrists, holding you in place.

“Noona, please,” he pleads, his cheeks turning scarlet, mirroring yours. “Please say it again. I want to see you when you say it.”

It’s actually borderline hilarious the way he’s so serious about it, and perhaps it’s really his biggest turn on—one that he hasn’t seen coming from you after all this time���so you decide to swallow your pride and indulge him further.

You repeat your words and watch as his eyes widened again for a split second before they turn gentle, looking so happy that you finally get to answer his wish. “About damn time,” he whispers against your lips, his husky voice reverberating nicely to your ears as he tastes every bit of your mouth with his tongue. He wastes no more time, heading south while placing more wet kisses down your body.

His lips are hovering above your heat, and you can really feel his breath down there. You have your eyes closed in anticipation but Haechan suddenly says, “You know what, let’s do it this way.”

He leaves you hanging and you’re about to be swallowed by shame but he suddenly lies down on the bed, his head almost touching the headboard, and motions you to come closer. “Come here.”

“What?”

“I want you to sit on my face,” he says and you almost choke on your saliva. “Come here, Noona. Please.”

And it stresses you out so much because you’ve never done this before—never even thought about it even—and you figured you just had to lay there and let him do whatever he wants with you. Crawling over to sit on his face is clearly not what you had in mind.

“Come on,” he lightly sneers when he sees how nervous you are. “I won’t bite.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, feeling a little bit lightheaded from how embarrassed you are, but when he offers a hand, you take it and follow his lead.

You have your legs on each side of his head and he’s holding you by your hips, guiding you to lower yourself down to him. “Stop being so tense,” he chuckles and you flinch because he’s so dangerously close. “It’s not like I’ve never seen you up-close before.”

“It’s different—” You gasp when he swipes his tongue against your folds, just once, before he asks, “Different how?”

You’re too occupied with sorting out your feelings and all these sensations that coming into your head at once. “I don’t know, it’s weird—” You almost whine when you feel him moving his tongue again.

“Your thighs are shaking, Noona,” he chuckles, and you clench your teeth, trying to be less conscious of how his hot breath hitting your sensitive spot.

“Please, s-stop talking.”

“I’m trying to make this casual,” he says, his voice sounding less clear as it hits your skin. “If I stop talking, you’re gonna start thinking about things again.”

“I’m not—Haechannie—” You bring your fingers to cover your mouth to stop you from moaning too loud. He’s giving tentative licks around your clit, moving agonizingly slow and you fumble with your hands, not knowing where to place them. Everything feels both terrifyingly good and painfully awkward and you’re trapped between wanting to continue and stop at the same time.

“Here,” Haechan offers, taking one of your hands and guides it down until it finds home in his hair. “Or you can lay your hands against the headboard. But I prefer you do it this way so I’ll know if you’re feeling,” he stops to licks a stripe up your folds, making you shiver, “good, or,” this time, he stops to suck hard on your clit, startling you with the amount of pleasure jolting through your veins that your body begins to tremble. “Extremely good,” he finishes, moving to the side so he can place a kiss on your thigh, letting you feel his teasing smile on your skin.

Your breathing tatters as he continues with his ministrations, now adding one of his fingers inside you to increase the pleasure. Your head hangs low, and you’re not able to tear your eyes away from his face. Seeing him between your thighs, with his eyes closed as if he’s enjoying every second of it, is just the sexiest thing you’ve ever witnessed.

“You seem to be much more relaxed now,” Haechan leans back to show you his godforsaken smirk, “Good girl. Are you starting to regret the fact we didn’t do this sooner?”

And you want to be upset about it—about how he’s still teasing you even during this moment—but the way his breath keeps fanning against your sensitive skin makes you weak. “Please just…” You’re about to sob because it’s too damn embarrassing to be put in this situation. “Stop teasing me, Hyuck…”

Haechan blinks at your expression, his gaze immediately softens. “I’m sorry,” he says, kissing you gently on the inner part of your thigh again. “You’re just so damn cute, I can’t help but tease. Forgive me?”

And you just answer with a small nod because that’s all you can offer before his lips are pressed against your entrance again, tongue slipping inside to know how you really taste. 

“Wait—” You begin to panic from how good and weird it feels. “L-let’s stop for a sec—It’s too much—” The shame, the sensation, the pleasure—they’re all hitting you hard at once and you’re too nervous to function properly.

Haechan sneaks a glance at your face, taking in the way it contorts into several emotions at once. “Baby,” he calls out softly, which sends shivers down to your core. “Don’t be nervous, it’s only me.”

You notice how he’s imitating your words from earlier and that gives you the chance to think about something else. “But… What about you..?” You ask, making eye contact with him and gulping when he raises his eyebrow in question. “I mean, I can’t please you like this.”

“Oh…” He leans his head down to the bed, giving you the space you want but not exactly what you need. “Then… Wanna do it at the same time?”

You nibble at your bottom lip, slowly nodding your head and his eyes gleam excitedly in response.

“Ah, you’re the best, seriously,” he exhales, dreamily looking at you. “All right then, turn around.”

***

It’s two hours before midnight when another idea pops up in your head. “Haechannie,” you call him out, as you click off your phone and turn to him. Hearing him humming in response, you continue. “Call Jaemin and the rest of your cute little boyband.”

By the tone of your voice, he knows he’s going to go through hell again. He groans out loud, head dangling around the edge of his bed. “Why is this day not over yet, I swear to God—”

“Just call them, I’ve got something in mind.”

“Don’t tell me you want me to make-out with them or something.”

“Why, are you interested?”

He grimaces, sticking out his tongue. “I’d rather die.”

“Glad that’s not what I’m asking then.” You climb up to join him on the bed, sitting next to his body with your knee almost touching the side of his head. He shifts around, placing his head on your lap, and stares at you with tired eyes.

“Please don’t be too mean to me this time,” he begs and you snort, can’t believe that the mischievous Lee Donghyuck actually begs you to spare his life.

You card your fingers through his hair and he closes his eyes, relaxing at your touch. It doesn’t last long though, his blissfulness, because on the next second, you say, “I want you to play that online game you always play with them but be terribly bad at it.”

“WHAT—“ He blurts out, sitting upright in such a rush that he almost knocks your heads together. “WHY—HOW COULD YOU—”

“Okay, breathe.”

“But this is too much!” He whines, his eyes widening in horror. “I have a status to uphold! You can’t do this to me!”

“Look, if it matters that much to you, I’ll give you permission to explain the situation to them.” You squeeze his hand, smiling understandingly at him. “You can tell them that you’re doing this because you’re granting my birthday wish.”

That manages to calm him down a little. “So I can let them know before the game? Oh, thank God—”

“No, a month after the game.”

“WHY ARE YOU SO EVIL—”

“Just do it already!” You shout out with a teasing grin strapped to your face. “You owe me at least that much after I let you come in my mouth.”

He gapes, eyes widening in shock. “That was for this?! I feel so tricked!”

“Well, I wasn’t thinking about that before but—” You shake your head, waving the rest of your sentence away. “Come on, Haechannie, please, please, please~” You rub your hands together, batting your eyelashes again.

He grumbles, pushing you away. “Stop doing that aegyo on me, I’m not doing it!”

I’ll grant you five wishes for your birthday!” You can’t believe you’re saying this and you know you’re going to regret it later in the future but there’s still time and you hope he’s gonna forget about it when the time arrives. Hopefully.

Haechanlooks extremely tempted at that. “Any kind of wishes?”

You wince but nod eventually. “As long as it’s nothing sexual.”

“Oh, you’re gonna regret saying that.” His smirk is back and he’s doing it so cockily that it sends shivers down your spine. Well, you can work over that problem later. “Fine, let’s go. Give me the phone.”

Haechan calls Jaemin an asswipe the first second he gets connected but by the sound of his voice coming from the other line, he’s not even bothered in the slightest. “Get off Jeno’s dick for once and log back into your account. Bring Jisung with you. I’ll be online in ten minutes and if I don’t see you there, I’ll text your mom the real reason why you didn’t show up on Christmas Day.” And he shuts off his phone with a click, throwing it randomly on his bed.

“Do boys normally make phone calls like that?” you ask, judging him.

He only shrugs, “Cooler ones do.”

“What happened during Christmas Day?”

“Jaemin got his ass drunk, went out with Jeno, and ended up having a threesome with a stripper.” He yawns, throwing himself back on the bed again. “I’m just glad they didn’t take Jisung with them. He’s been through a lot, that poor kid.” And when he sees you raising an eyebrow in question, he just waves you off. “Trust me, you don’t wanna know.”

There’s a lot of shouting in the background when the game started, most of it coming from the other line of Haechan’s headphones that’s strapped to his ears. You lean close to him so you can hear Jeno shouting at him, “Yah! What the fuck, Lee Donghyuck?! I thought you said you were going left!”

“I am going left.”

“THAT’S NOT LEFT, YOU IDIOT!”

And you feel sorry for your boyfriend for degrading himself on purpose like this. “As you can see,” he says, wincing as his ears begin to ring from all the shouting. He mutes his headphone as he focuses back on you with his fingers angrily tapping on his keyboards. “This causes me physical pain. I hope you’re happy.”

“I am happy.” You peck him on his cheek. “You’re the best. I love you.”

Haechan snorts, looking away and tapping his headphone again to unmute his microphone. “Hey assholes, I just died again. Sorry about that.” More screaming and angry rantings can be heard from the other line and you savor the moment as long as you can. It’s not every day you can see your cocky boyfriend being bullied by his underlings.

It’s too fun watching him play with his face contorting like he’s in deep agony that you begin to lose track of time. You just realize how late it is when Haechan suddenly quits the game, puts his PC back to the sleeping mode, and turns his chair around to face you. You suddenly feel nervous as you sit on the edge of his bed, with him staring at you with a sinful smile creeping up his face, crossing his legs.

“Ten, nine, eight,” he says, tapping his fingers and you flinch in realization. “You better start running, Noona.” He walks over, chucking off his shirt on his way to you whilst continuing his countdown. His silver necklace glints under the fluorescent light of his room and he bends down, trapping you between his arms. “Because I’ll be in charge in three… two…”

You gulp, your heart thrumming loudly against your ribcages as you feel his lips hovering dangerously above yours.

“One.”

***

[faghubby]

Swinging all the way down the slide part 6

I woke to knock on the door. I had slept horrible the tiny cage had woke me several times.

"Come in" I called out

"Your trainer is here" Kevin told me. I just jumped out of bed and saw a pink workout gear sitting on my dresser. I slid on the yoga pants and oversized top. And went downstairs. Where I met Nick. Nick was a typical gym rat guy. Worked out everyday. Nick took me into the home gym. It was huge.

"So we have to work on some key issues. First your ass" he told me.

"I don't want you working your arms or chest at all. We can shrink them down" he had me do squats till my legs burned. I was tired and starving. So when he tried to push me to do more I popped off at him.

"THEN YOU DO THEM" I YELLED. he grabbed me and pulled me over his lap. Pulled down my pants and spanked me.

"You don't yell at me, you don't yell at anyone ever again." He told me. I was crying and wanted to run and hide.

"Now get back to it" he told me

"Yes, sir" I answered

"Good you are learning" my workout took 3 hours. I was exhausted. When I went to shower. Kevin knew I skipped breakfast bought me a smoothie. I gulped it down. It was different but still gross. I showered my nipples where swollen and very sensitive. I looked thru my drawers and closet and realized I had lot more clothes then I had bought yesterday. There was also a whole jewelry box full of things.

I tried to do my makeup. And failed. Kevin walked in didn't knock. He handed me another smoothie and watched as I finished it.

"Can I use the phone" I asked

"To call who" he asked

"Oksana my wife" I answered

"Not this week" he replied. Then had me sit as he fixed my makeup and hair, he spun me in the chair and I was looking straight at his crotch. With out even thinking I reached out and held his cock.

"Go ahead" he said and I unzipped his pants. Pulled out his cock and sucksd it he came in my mouth and I didn't swallow. Instead I waited.

"Show me" he said and I opened my mouth.

"Good girl swallow" he said and waited till I fixed his pants.

"No one asked or told you to do that, you decide all on your own" he pointed out as he left. I put on a sun dress. And went down stairs.

Treasa was home. She was in the library.

"Tracy come here" She said she handed me books on edicate and submitting to a man.

"You should read all of theses" She told me.

"And I set up new social media accounts for you. Keep them current and an Email it's all excusable from the TV in your room. Then she dismissed me. I thought for a second.

"Thank you Ms Tereasa" She smiled a little and I left.

I went back to my room and found the social profiles there where lots of pics of me dressed or bent over. My friends list included my entire family. I had no way of explaining all this to them so I looked at the books. They were all older it was how to treat your husband from the 40s. I started on the first book. Kevin bought me a smoothie for lunch.

"The Doctor is here to see you" he told me as a well dressed man of about 50 entered the room.

"Please disrobe" he stated plainly. Kevin left with the empty glass. I disrobed. And stood naked in front of this man. He inspected all the piercings.

"Any discomfort or swelling ?" He asked

"No sir" I responded

He had me bend over and looked at my ass.

"Any diarrhea or constipation. Your pussy looks like no permanent damage"

"Any issues with your throat? Your voice sounds deep and scratchy" he stated spraying something in my mouth.

I just telling him everything seemed fine.

"I am going to up the hormones" he told me.

"Hormones?" My voice barely a whisper.

"The smoothie" he indicated. I was now panicked over my voice.

"Yes the spray will soften your tone after awhile he handed me the bottle

"Twice a day" he told me. He then gave me a shot in the ass.

"I will be back in a few days" he turned and left. I got dressed. Kevin came in around 4pm

"You are to be ready to go out by 6pm." He told me pulling a pink gown from my closet. I showered and touched up any shaving. Then got dressed. Kevin must have picked everything I found pink lingerie with the dress and shoes as well. I dressed in a pink thong. And demi cup bra with silicone inserts. A garter and stockings. My shoes where 3 inch high. Nothing I wore wasn't pink. Teresa came and fixed my makeup. It was quite heavy. I looked like a hooked. She put a pink collar around my neck that said Antonio's. And led me downstairs.

"Head down and be respectful" She told me as I stood in the hall. Antonio walked in. I curtsied another man followed him in.

"So this is Tracy" he said kissing my cheek. They led me into the Den.

On a table in the center of the room we're dozens of dildos. All big some massive.

"How big can you take Tracy? " the man asked. As Kevin poured them drinks.

"Show us" Antonio said. He unzipped my dress and let it fall to the floor. There was lots of lube. I found the smallest and lots of lube. Pulled my thong to the side and worked it in my ass. As the men watched. Several other men arrived. One picked up a bigger toy and handed it to me. I took it and removed the other working the larger one in. Some watched me others just talked among themselves.

Another man found a much bigger toy and told me to use it.

It was at least a foot long and 2 inches thick. I had barely worked it in when he handed me a thicker toy. Looked around and saw a dozen barely clothed woman taking men out of the room. Or sucking their cocks right in front of everyone. This one skinny man who watched me told me to use a bigger thicker toy.

It was 18 inches long and I could bare fit two hands around it. That sectioned cupped to the table. I tried over and over to get it in. Finally it popped and the tip slid in. I screamed as it did. My knees bucked and even more slid in. My penis flowed like a river into my panties. As now several men watched. The man who kept picking toys stood on the table and dropped his pants he wore no underwear so his cock slapped my face. I grapped it shoved down my throat he wasn't more the 5 and half inches. And he finished quick. He pushed my shoulders down forcing more of the toy in. The pain made me scream yet I needed more. I orgasmed and came as it dripped from my cage. Antonio came and lifted me off of the enormous toy. He pushed his whole hand inside me.

"Now you are broken" he told me. "You are mine forever" I looked up and saw Oksana

"He bought you from me" She told me. "Good bye Tracy"

Antonio shoved his cock in my mouth and I never hesitated I just took it all. And knew I had found my place.

[spactcle]

you say it first

Archive of Our Own Link

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply Fandoms: Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Relationships: Bakugou Katsuki/Kirishima Eijirou Language: English

Summary: “I can’t tell him.” “Why not?” “Because then he’d know.” Kirishima and Bakugou seek advice from their friends about UA's worst-kept secret (except, apparently, from them).

“I think I’m in love with Bakugou.”

Kaminari is bent over his homework, cheek resting on his fist. His shoulders freeze, he doesn’t look up from his workbook, but his pen stops scrawling across the page. After a few beats, he lifts his chin and plops it on his fist instead.

“I mean… obviously.”

“What?”

“Dude, c’mon. I know I’m me and this will sound weird but let’s get serious and study, please? My grades don’t have time for you to state the obvious.”

“The obvious?” Kirishima pops up from where he's sprawled out on the ground, looking at Kaminari in disbelief. “How did you know?”

“Everyone knows, slick,” Kaminari retorts, sarcasm dripping from the nickname. “Now we have finals next week, can we please focus?”

“Everyone?”

“Okay.” Kaminari’s hands clap together and he snaps his workbook closed. “Clearly we are focusing on the wrong thing. Why are you bringing this up,” the tip of his finger jabs as his closed workbook, tapping at it for effect, “now?”

“Why have you not brought it up?” Kirishima accuses, arms gesturing widely.

“Because I thought you knew!”

“How would I know?”

Kaminari jabs his finger accusingly at Kirishima instead now. “They’re your feelings, Kiri!” His finger curls back into a fist and he brings it to his lips, brow drawing in with concern as he thinks. “Your weird, weird feelings. But still.”

Kirishima blows a raspberry at him, leaving his lips out in a pout with the gall to look offended. “How are my feelings weird?”

“Bakugou is an emotionally constipated trash can,” Kaminari deadpans. “And you’re… I don’t know? Whatever the opposite of that would be.”

“Diarrhea recycling bin.”

A beat. Kaminari’s face pulls back into a disgusted grimace. “Really could have done without that mental image.”

Kirishima shrugs and starts to nervously pull at his hair. It’s a Saturday and he didn’t style it today, just has his bangs pulled into a half ponytail behind his head. Kaminari has told him to just chop it off but Kirishima insists that it’s part of my brand, and besides how is Blasty going to call me shitty-hair if I don’t have any?

His confusion is what’s most baffling to Kaminari. They’re in their third year and it feels like Bakugou and Kirishima should have figured each other out by now – they know one another better than anyone else could, so how are they so bad at this? Kaminari figured out his feelings for Jirou the previous year, Midoriya and Uraraka got together just a few months later, and even Kendou and Tetsu finally stopped beating around the bush. Now that he thinks about it, a lot of people more emotionally dense than Kirishima have confessed to their respective partners, like Todoroki and Tokoyami.

One of Kirishima’s sharp teeth hangs over his bottom lip as he chews at the skin. It makes Kaminari feel a little bit bad. But only a little. He really should have joined Jirou and Momo for studying instead.

“Why are you bringing this up now?” he repeats his previous question but without the edge to his voice, trying to exercise patience for his friend.

Kirishima collapses on the table, voice muffled by his arm. “Because I don’t know what to do.”

“Tell him.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.”

Kirishima lifts turns his head up slightly to glare at him from over his arm. “I can’t tell him.”

“Why not?”

“Because then he’d know.” He hides his face again.

Kaminari rolls his eyes so far back he’s surprised he doesn’t see the inside of his skull. “That’s usually the idea.” Kirishima’s answer is a wordless scoff, tongue sputtering around words he can’t form. “Just tell him. There’s no way he doesn’t feel the same.” The sputtering worsens and Kirishima snaps his head up from the table, gawking at Kaminari as his face turns as red as his hair.

“I said I was serious!”

“Yeah, seriously blind.”

“What?”

This time Kaminari is almost positive he sees his skull, but that could just be his vision whiting as he strains his eyes. “Kirishima Eijirou,” the full name absolutely required to get his full and undivided attention. “The fact that you and Bakugou have got it bad for each other is the worst kept secret in the entire school – except, apparently, from the both of you. I’m almost positive that there’s some kind of bet going around about when you two will stop being complete boneheads and make it official.”

Kirishima’s eyes wandered around the room as if searching for a cosmic answer to all his problems. “We… bet? Bakugou… I’m…”

“Yes. Now can we please study? And you can deal with your love life later?”

Kirishima’s cheeks grow big as he puffs them up with air and stares blankly at their workbooks. Kaminari gives him a full minute then clicks his tongue and starts to pack up. “Alright. I’m going to leave you here to process. Good luck, bro.” He sets a hand on Kirishima’s shoulder as he wraps his other arm around his schoolwork. “I know I said it was weird and all – and in my defense, it is – but I think we’re all rooting for you two.”

Lips formed around words that didn’t seem to want to come out of Kirishima’s mouth and Kaminari just sighed, patting him on the back before making his exit. He really should have just studied with Jirou and Momo.

- - -

“I think Kirishima is in love with me.”

Uraraka looks up from her place at the desk. She spins in her chair to find Bakugou collapsing on her bed, then she looks to find the hidden camera that someone must have hidden in her room. No one pops out of her closet laughing, and Bakugou is laying on his back staring at the ceiling, arms lying limp at his sides. He’s frowning in the way that he only does when he’s encountered an obstacle that he can’t quite figure out. So, this isn’t a prank.

“Why are you telling me this?”

He snaps up, rage normalizing his expression again, and argues, “Who the fuck else am I supposed to tell?”

Uraraka frowns at him pointedly and his lips fall out of the snarl and into a resigned grimace, a sign that she has come to recognize as his apology. “Kirishima, for starters.”

“Fuck that.” Bakugou flops back onto her bed. “Why should I have to do anything when he’s the one in love with me?” He gestures wildly at the ceiling like it’s the one that he came to for advice on his love life.

“Are you in love with him too?”

Instantly, his expression closes off. He turns his face away from her and lets his arms fall back to his sides.

“Bakugou?”

“Shut up. The hell are you asking for anyway?”

Uraraka’s cheeks blow up with air before she huffs at him. “It’s the obvious question.”

“The fuck it is.”

“If Kirishima burst in here, just as rudely as you did, and declared his love for you – what would you do about it?”

Bakugou’s head turns away from her, but she can see the back of his neck redden and she isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied by that. He’s treating his and Kirishima’s feelings as if it’s some huge secret and revelation – but she, Deku, Todoroki, and Tsu have a bet about how long it will go before one of them does something about it. Iida disapproves.

If it happens in the next week, the pot goes to Todoroki.

Her bet starts the week after.

He’s lucky that Uraraka is at least a big enough person to help him now instead of waiting.

“Probably something along the lines of,” she clears her throat, bringing her hands together and resting them against her cheek, then continues in a high pitch, “oh, Kirishima, I love you too! Sweep me off my feet!”

Bakugou sits back up before she’s even finished, hands poised to attack, and face screwed into a scowl, but the effect is decidedly lessened considering the deep blush coloring his cheeks. “Shut the fuck up if you want to graduate, round face!”

She leans back in her chair, lifting an eyebrow, unimpressed. “Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.”

“It doesn’t fucking bother me.”

“It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.”

“It—” His mouth snaps shut and his eyes dart away from her. His ears also start to turn pink and then he zeroes in on her with a sharp glare. “You bother me.”

Uraraka rolls her eyes and waves him off. “Everything but Kirishima bothers you.”

“He bothers me too.”

“Because he hasn’t told you that he loves you.”

“Fuck off.” He throws himself backward on the bed, again, arms crossed over his chest as he glares are the ceiling instead of her.

She observes him. Over the years, she’s learned to read Bakugou – being one of the few to earn his respect early on had those perks, if it could be called that. But she knows when he’s thinking too much – which is what he’s doing right now.

“Bakugou, why are you here?”

He doesn’t answer.

“Do you need me to tell you that you need to tell him?”

“I don’t need you at all,” he snaps, but there’s no heat behind it.

She ignores him. “You should tell him.”

Bakugou makes a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. “He’s the one that always goes on about manliness. What the fuck is manly about keeping shit to yourself?” His arms uncurl from his chest and his fingers make a fist. “Fucking own up to it.”

“Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want,” she points out, tilting her head to the side. “So… if you want Kirishima, then shouldn’t you say something?”

He doesn’t reply, and his arms fall back onto the bed. Uraraka shrugs and turns back to her desk. Their finals are coming up after all and he interrupted her studies.

“I’m fucking going to sleep,” he says finally, pushing himself off the bed.

“Or you could help me study,” she offers without turning around, voice airy. She knows the answer to that.

“Fuck no.”

“Oh, that’s right. You only ever help Kirishima.”

There’s a small explosion as the door slams behind him, but Uraraka smirks and isn’t big enough to not feel satisfied.

- - -

What the fuck does Uraraka know anyway? She’d shacked up with Deku a year ago, so Bakugou clearly overestimated her judgment and overall sense.

Truthfully, not that he would ever say this out loud, Bakugou doesn’t know why he went to her room. He doesn’t know why he was so tracked on this when his main objective should be elbowing his way to the top of his class. Finals were soon for fuck’s sake. What the fuck was he worrying about Kirishima or feelings for, anyway? He is Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he is going to be the undeniable number one.

Hands clenched into fists, the right one still steaming from his outburst at Uraraka’s last words, he takes the girl’s elevator down to the common area. Water first, then he’ll take another practice exam before sleeping. He shoves his clenched hands into his pockets and stalks across the common area.

It’s dark outside and the rooms here are empty, everyone already separated into studying groups or gone to bed. If this was two years ago, Bakugou would already likely have been asleep. He didn’t normally stay or socialize in the common room, and if he did it was only for a few minutes or maybe an hour. But Kirishima persisted and it was annoying. He wouldn’t fucking leave Bakugou alone or stop nagging him about hanging out with his peers more (Your friends, Kirishima would correct him, but Bakugou only started calling them peers in their second year). How was he ever going to connect more with their classmates if he just holed himself up in his room to study?

Fuck you. I fucking help you, don’t I?

Exactly! And now we’re best bros!

When the hell had Bakugou asked for more friends? He hadn’t even asked for the one!

But, honestly, he’s quietly glad he’d been forced out of his room, even if he won't admit it out loud or say it in so many words. Some – and only some – of his classmates were actually pretty cool. His friends from before hadn’t really been friends. Lackeys, maybe… Kids that were taken with the boy with a great quirk and a domineering personality. Other bullies, he reminds himself. And he’d been fine with that at the time. He hadn’t needed anyone else, and he hadn’t wanted them. He would think that other people would hold him back, ask for things, for compromises – or worse, look down on him.

Then Kirishima decided they were friends and Bakugou hadn’t really done anything to stop that from happening. It changed him… for the better.

Fuck. He needs to stop thinking about it. He’s got more control than this.

Bakugou gnaws at his lower lip, glaring at the bouquet of flowers sitting on the coffee table. Blue bell-shaped flowers that he couldn’t be bothered to remember the name of. What he does remember is everyone’s look of surprise when it had been Todoroki carrying those flowers, and with the confidence that he always seemed to possess, walked right up to Iida and asked him on a date. Four-Eyes turned redder than Todoroki’s left side and started sweating so badly that his glasses wouldn’t stay on his face. But the takeaway from the story for Bakugou was seeing Kirishima’s soft, almost sad smile and the awkward way he laughed it off when Bakugou asked him what was wrong.

Well, more specifically Bakugou asked, What the fuck is wrong with your face?

The petals were starting to wither at the edges, but Class 1A had really come together to keep them alive for this long, though he’s pretty sure it was the girl with the vines in 1B that was doing most of the work. The two classes met and hung out a lot more than they used to. It was always so damn loud now.

Scowling, Bakugou keeps moving toward the kitchen. Yeah, maybe it had been the wrong thing to say. Maybe. Like he doesn’t already know it was the wrong thing to say.

Are you in love with him too?

“Fuck,” he swears, throwing open the fridge. The water bottles were running low, and he frowns, taking one of the last four after a moment of consideration.

When he rights himself, he starts to close the door when Kirishima comes around the corner. Because of course he does, and of course he has his shitty hair down and not styled since Bakugou always thinks he looks so goddamn pretty like that. He looks just as caught off guard to see Bakugou. “Oh, hey man, what’s up?” He asks, his hand going to the back of his head and that fucking adorably shy, little smile on his lips – the one where Bakugou can only see his top teeth and his eyes crinkle a little.

You should tell him.

Bakugou grits his teeth at the thought and wills away the blush that threatens to dust his cheeks as he remembers what Uraraka said. “Water,” he grunts, the fridge door standing awkwardly open as a physical barrier between them. “What are you doing down here?”

“Snack,” Kirishima replies, with a small shrug as he moves closer and further into the kitchen. “Kaminari abandoned me to go study with Jirou and Momo, I think.”

“You think?”

And dammit the huffy little laugh Kirishima lets out, the one that Bakugou recognizes as him being embarrassed makes his heart stutter in his chest. “Yeah. I was distracted…” He starts absentmindedly looking through the cabinets as he speaks. “Thought some food might help, though.”

Bakugou shakes his head at Kirishima. “You’re always getting distracted. You need me there to keep you on track.”

Kirishima glances at him with that smile. “You study by yourself on Thursdays,” he replies with good nature as he moves to the next cabinet, the one full of nothing but dishes. When his eyes return to see the contents, he still stares into it like he’s looking for something, clearly feigning interest and clearly still distracted.

“You could’ve asked if you were having trouble,” Bakugou grumbles, his brow wrinkling as he watches.

Kirishima lets out another awkward laugh. “Yeah, I guess I could,” he agrees. He doesn’t move from the dish cabinet.

Is he pointedly avoiding looking at Bakugou now? A frown lowers on Bakugou’s lips and he stares at Kirishima’s profile for a long moment, waiting for him to say something else. Kirishima fills silences, not Bakugou. Kirishima doesn’t avoid eye contact, Bakugou does. Kirishima doesn’t stare into dish cabinets when he’s hungry and looking for a snack, Bakugou—well, no, he doesn’t. He shakes his head, annoyed with where this thought process is leading.

Bakugou doesn’t shy away from conflict. And neither does Kirishima. So…

“What the fuck are you doing, shitty hair?”

That seems to startle him, and his eyes tear away from the dishes. “Oh! There’s no food in here.” His sheepish laugh returns, but this time it’s annoying because that's the one he uses when he's trying to brush something off. “Guess I’m still distracted.”

“No. You’ve been acting weird all day.” Ever since the Todoroki-Flowers incident, but Bakugou doesn’t say that.

“Have I?” Kirishima asks, closing the cabinet as his eyes dart around the room and look anywhere but Bakugou.

That makes him grind his teeth. He knows Bakugou hates being answered with questions. He was going to wring this shitty-haired, perfect piece of shit’s neck. His gaze zeroes in on Kirishima and he narrows his eyes. “Kirishima.”

At the sound of his name, ruby-red eyes find Bakugou’s own, and he blinks rapidly. “Uh…” He stutters as sharp teeth worry at this bottom lip and Bakugou hates the way he can’t help but follow that movement. Pink dusts Kirishima’s cheeks and Bakugou’s hand clenches into a fist as he tries to avoid moving over there to touch and see if his cheeks are warming with the color. The bottle crackles in his hand as he squeezes it. “Sorry, Bakugou. I’m really just a little distracted, honest.”

Bakugou looks at him, his expression gradually easing out of irritation. He feels like there’s something in his throat and he still hates it. “Tch. Just come get your damn food,” he says, stepping away from the fridge like an offering. And he hates that he knows that Kirishima will recognize that as Bakugou looking out for him in his own way – that it’s his way of saying eat something and maybe that will help.

He hates it even more that it works.

A knowing smile flits across Kirishima’s lips and he nods. He says something that Bakugou doesn’t register because all he can think about is that Kirishima is moving closer and stepping around him to take a look in the fridge. He stands back, watching the back of Kirishima’s head as he looks through what he could eat, and the proximity makes Bakugou’s chest feel full, and his hands sweat, and he hates it.

No. Fuck. He doesn’t hate it.

Bakugou, you obviously have feelings for him. This wouldn’t bother you so much if you didn’t.

Uraraka really got in his head. Because she was right. It did bother him. Kirishima was good with feelings. He was the one that was always encouraging Bakugou to embrace his emotions – shit, all the nights they’d spent staying up talking after Bakugou woke from nightmares to a panic attack and Kirishima could hear him through the walls. Kirishima vocalized his worries and his anxieties, he used them to talk and relate to their classmates and lower classmen, hell, even villains. Because Kirishima was good.

It bothers you that he hasn’t said anything.

Of course, it bothers him! Why should Bakugou have to take the initiative here? He was never the one who had to take the initiative before. Kirishima brought him into a friendship kicking and screaming, but that didn’t deter him. Even on Bakugou’s worst day, he knew Kirishima would still be there.

Are you in love with him too?

Fuck.

“Kirishima.”

Kirishima rights himself and looks back at Bakugou like he’s surprised to hear his name again. He turns around and he’s backlit by the light from the fridge like a goddamn angel and fuck if he isn’t the prettiest thing Bakugou’s ever seen. Bakugou’s brain feels like mush for the first time in his life and all he can do is glare at Kirishima’s confused face while he tries to decipher what exactly possessed him to say this stupid, wonderful, infuriating, amazing boy’s name.

Well, you’re the one that always says you do what you want.

Before he manages to catch up with himself, Bakugou finds himself stepping into Kirishima’s space and reaching up to hold the sides of his neck. He's never done this before because no one has ever caught his attention like this, no one has ever felt so close to him as Kirishima, but fuck if it isn’t perfect when he presses his lips to Kirishima’s, swallowing the small gasp that passes his lips.

Kirishima is still for a few beats, but he moves just before Bakugou begins to worry that he made a mistake. His hands find Bakugou’s hips, and he presses back, tilting his head into the kiss.

Bakugou might not know what he’s doing, but even to him, it’s clear that Kirishima does. The hands at his hips don’t stay there for long as they wind behind him to lie flat against his back, just under his shoulder blades as Kirishima bends and pulls Bakugou up into him – when did he get so damn tall? And he will never admit to the noise that he makes into Kirishima’s mouth when his tongue pushes gently into his mouth, or to the way his arms secure around solid shoulders as his fingers twist gently into red hair. He’ll die before he ever says he feels lighter and over the moon and like he’s having a moment straight out of those stupid American movies that Ashido likes so much.

The kiss is slow and sweet and everything like what he thought a kiss from Kirishima would be, because now that he’s actually kissing him, he will admit to thinking about it before. He lets Kirishima explore his mouth with his tongue, letting him lead and he’s never been so happy to follow.

As it slows to a stop, their lips press together in a lingering way and it’s Kirishima that finally pulls away. Despite the way he’d been so confidently and thoroughly kissing Bakugou, his eyes are completely full of questions and some uncertainty, wide and staring at him.

Bakugou looks back at him and realizes they’re still wrapped around each other and he’s a little out of breath. He doesn't know what he did with the water bottle he had in his hand, but it's gone too. No, right now, nothing else matters. So, he sets his jaw and tightens his hold slightly on Kirishima’s shoulders. Resolve. He’s full of resolve. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki, and he goes after what he wants.

“I do what I want,” he says, his voice sure even if a bit winded. “And I want you.”

The way Kirishima’s eyes light up and a slow, blindingly happy smile creeps onto his lips sends Bakugou’s heart into fits and his stomach turns upside down with fucking butterflies.

“You want to do me?” Kirishima asks, a laugh tinging the back of his throat.

Moment ruined.

Bakugou’s cheeks warm faster than his quirk and he knows he’s turned the shade of Kirishima’s hair. “Fuck you,” he says, putting a hand on Kirishima’s face and shoving him away as that piece of shit laughs – and goddammit if it’s not Bakugou's favorite sound.

He pulls away, pushing off of Kirishima’s face as he goes and extracting himself from his arms. He storms away, hands balled into fists at his sides as he swears at himself because he doesn’t know how to fucking do this. The door to the fridge closes somewhere behind him and Kirishima’s laughter follows him to the elevator.

“Oh, come on, that was funny and you know it!” He says, catching Bakugou’s upper arm and letting himself get dragged onto the elevator as the doors pull open.

“No, it wasn’t,” Bakugou snaps, but all the fire there is just to mask his embarrassment. “I take it back. I hate you.” He shrugs off Kirishima’s hand and jams his finger against the button to their floor.

It doesn’t deter Kirishima in the slightest. It never does. “No, you don’t,” he laughs brightly. He takes his hand back, but steps back into Bakugou’s space as the doors close. “You like me.” His hands find Bakugou’s waist, and he turns Bakugou to face him, his lips pressing warm against flushed cheeks.

Bakugou turns his head slightly away, his hands grasping Kirishima’s forearms, but he can’t find it in him to pull away. “The worst,” he mutters, but still leans into the kisses pressed along his cheekbone.

A low chuckle rumbles through Kirishima’s chest – oh, oh that’s a new one and Bakugou doesn’t know what it means and he’s a second away from worrying about it because he’s gotten to the point where he can recognize Kirishima’s laughs or nonverbal cues and that’s new, but then Kirishima is stepping forward and pushing him back slowly. He presses against the wall of the elevator and it’s cold through his shirt but Kirishima is warm at his front and oh okay, fuck. There’s a little huff that works its way unbidden from his throat and his arms are moving without thinking as he clings to Kirishima.

“The worst, huh?” Kirishima grins, nudging his nose against Bakugou’s cheek for his attention.

And he gives it to him, turning his head back and letting Kirishima kiss him silly again. He feels hot all over, in a way that doesn’t have anything to do with his quirk. The cold at his back is exhilarating, somehow, as Kirishima presses him against the wall. He’s vaguely aware that the elevator has stopped moving and the doors are opening but he doesn’t care because Kirishima’s tongue is in his mouth again and it’s such a weird feeling but so, so right when it’s Kirishima.

Those lips trail away from Bakugou’s and he grunts at the loss, but then bites down on his bottom lip as Kirishima makes his way over his jaw and mouths at this throat. That’s when a whine – a fucking whine – forces its way past Bakugou’s tongue. His hands drop to Kirishima’s shoulders and he grits his teeth. “Fuck,” he growls, forcing his voice lower.

Then this mother fucker giggles and pulls away – and Bakugou honestly doesn’t know which one he’s more pissed off at – smiling at him. It’s blinding. “You’re so cute,” he exclaims. “I like you so much.”

“Shut up,” Bakugou groans, digging his fingers into Kirishima’s shoulder and ducking his head as he feels his cheeks redden again.

“Say you do what you want again! Say that you like me!” Kirishima pleads, laughing the whole time.

“Fucking—” Bakugou cuts himself off, not even sure what he wants to say. “You—” He growls unintelligibly again, and pushes Kirishima away from him, even if it is the gentlest push he thinks he’s ever given in his life. He slams his finger on their floor again, and the doors open immediately. He stalks around this laughing, amazing mother fucker and into the hallway, making a straight line to his room.

As always, ever since they were first-years, Kirishima follows. And he’s still laughing like an idiot, and there’s a section of Bakugou’s chest and stomach that is absolutely giddy, and he grinds his teeth instead of smiling. “Bakugou,” Kirishima calls, elongating his name and fuck it’s cute and he’s going to wake the entire floor up and if that happens Bakugou knows that he’ll die.

The door recognizes his fingerprint – a security measure that the school added in last year, but Bakugou knows it’s because some people just couldn’t ever keep track of their damn keys – and the door opens. Kirishima still follows him, stopping the door with his foot and a hand flat on the door. Damn, he is so lucky that Bakugou wasn’t slamming it because he didn’t even harden.

“I just want to talk,” Kirishima says, smiling sweetly at him. The laughter has mostly subsided, but it still shines in his eyes.

Bakugou’s heart thumps loudly in his chest, and he softens. He loves this boy and it’s so weird to think that so openly to himself now, but he likes it.

“And then, maybe you can cross a few things off your to-do list.” Kirishima waggles his eyebrows, that sweet smile turning into a knowing smirk.

Nope, nevermind, Bakugou hates him.

“You shithead,” he groans. But despite that, he walks away from his door and makes no move to close it again. A silent invitation for Kirishima to enter which is wholeheartedly taken.

It amazes Bakugou how relaxed Kirishima is in his room. He treats it like his own, acting perfectly at home and comfortable as he collapses on Bakugou’s bed. Meanwhile, Bakugou’s brain is reeling. It’s like there are red flashing lights in his head that are screaming at him, Kirishima is in your room and on your bed, as if Kirishima hadn’t ever been here before.

But it’s different now because he just had his tongue down your throat in the elevator and you’re hoping that he does that again, his brain points out.

And it’s fucking right, and Bakugou doesn’t remember the last time he’s felt this unsure in his own space. At least not about something this stupid. Sure, there had been his first year where he was the reason that his childhood role model and reason he decided to become a hero had to retire because of him. And the fact that, at the same time, his childhood rival was starting to rise to his level and surpass him. Kirishima had been by his side then, though, and that made things just a little better. And it made him want to be better. But now Kirishima was in his bed and laid out like a fucking angel—

“I can hear you thinking, babe,” Kirishima said, looking up at him with that smile again. The soft one that Bakugou thinks is probably the reason he fell in love in the first place.

Wait. Babe.

Fuck, he’s on fire, he knows it.

Kirishima laughs and holds out his hand, gesturing for Bakugou to take it. “Come sit down. Don’t worry, I promise I just want to talk.”

Bakugou feels so tense. His shoulders feel like they have rocks on them, but he takes Kirishima’s hand and the sweat that’s layering his palm doesn’t seem to be a bother as he’s tugged forward and onto the bed. “I’m not worried,” he grumbles, crossing his legs under himself, sitting across from Kirishima and he knows that his lie is utterly unconvincing in his presence.

The reassuring look on Kirishima’s face is almost enough to make him actually not worry. “Yeah, okay, tough guy,” he chuckles, looking down at their hands and rubbing his thumb over the top of Bakugou’s. It feels nice. Really nice. Bakugou didn’t know he could like physical touch this much, but it feels so genuine coming from Kirishima, who’s one of the only people who’s never been afraid to touch him. And now he’s holding dangerous hands so gently and, fuck, lovingly.

Bakugou can’t decide if he wants to pull away because it’s overwhelming, or dive in headfirst and drown in it.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Kirishima tells him quietly.

Bakugou wants to say I know or That’s because you have good taste or something confident but instead, his throat feels too dry and he swallows, watching Kirishima’s hands stroke his own.

“I kinda… love you, actually.”

Bakugou dives. Kirishima’s not going to let him drown.

“Me…” He clears his throat when his voice comes out scratchy. Kirishima looks up at him and he looks hopeful, which Bakugou thinks is stupid. He doesn’t need to look hopeful, he should already know. Kirishima knows him better than anyone. For fuck’s sake, Bakugou had been the one to move first – for the first time in their friendship. Relationship? Shit.

“You?” Kirishima prompts him, and Bakugou realizes he’s just been staring at him like a dumbass.

“I love you,” he finishes because Kirishima deserves for him to actually say it, even if his voice is an embarrassed, low grumble. Not just say me too or yeah or some kind of quick exchange where Bakugou gets to leave it unsaid while Kirishima keeps carrying the burden of initiating everything. He doesn’t need Kirishima to initiate everything. He’s Bakugou fucking Katsuki.

Kirishima’s smile puts every other smile in his arsenal to shame. This one is Bakugou’s new favorite. This is the one he’s going to think about every waking second. The one that’s going to get him to do whatever Kirishima wants, and he’ll do it happily behind a mask of annoyance because that’s just how he is and Kirishima accepts that about him.

He’s Kirishima fucking Eijirou and Bakugou is so damn in love with him.

It is weird to say, though. Bakugou has never said those three words together before. But it’s not a bad weird, and he still feels like himself. That’s how he knows that it’s true.

“I love you, too!” Kirishima exclaims, reaching for him and cupping his face gently at the jaw.

“Yeah, you said that already,” Bakugou replies, averting his gaze for a few moments for his own sanity before inevitably being pulled back in by the magnet of Kirishima’s pure joy.

“And I’ll keep saying it,” Kirishima insists. “Can I kiss you again?”

“I’ll be fucking pissed if you don’t.”

Kirishima’s lips are already on his by the end of his sentence, because he already knew the answer would be yes. It’s just as good as the last three kisses, and Bakugou wonders when he’ll stop keeping count.

This one is different though because Kirishima is pulling Bakugou closer but they’re sitting down. But he wants to be closer, too, so he moves and it’s strange. But this is clearly not the first time for Kirishima, because his hands are on Bakugou’s waist to help him move and arrange them in a mess of limbs where Bakugou sits on Kirishima’s lap. Now his hands are on Kirishima’s neck and he’s above him for the first time. Hand spread over his back and the tension in his shoulders melts away. His eyebrows are scrunched together, and he feels so helpless but safe like this.

Then laughter once again bubbles up from Kirishima but this time Bakugou ignores him. He’s just happy. That has to be all it is. But it doesn’t stop and increases a little when Bakugou experiments with his own tongue, sliding it over Kirishima’s lips.

Bakugou pulls back and glares down at him. The tips of his ears are red. It’s not like he’s ever kissed anyone before so, of course, he doesn’t really know what he’s doing but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it confidently. “The fuck are you laughing for?” He frowns.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Kirishima says. One of his hands leaves Bakugou’s back and covers his face, pressing the pad of his finger under his eye, tears leaking out of the corner. “This is just crazy. I just went to get a snack.” He pauses, wiping at his eye and looking up at Bakugou with consideration. “Well, actually. I mean, I guess I did kind of get one.” He grins and his hands go back to Bakugou’s sides, looking him over appreciatively.

“Shut the fuck up,” Bakugou groans, dropping his head onto Kirishima’s shoulder. It takes him a moment to realize how natural that was, so he doesn’t move, turning his head into Kirishima’s neck.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?”

“Fuck off.” His voice is muffled on Kirishima’s skin and he fists his hands in the back of Kirishima’s shirt.

“You would miss me too much.” And fuck, if he isn’t right about that.

“Maybe,” Bakugou concedes, a little huffy.

Another bright laugh and this time Bakugou doesn’t try to stop the smile that creeps onto his face. “Alright, so now we can hold hands walking to class. I want to cuddle in the common room on movie nights too, okay?” Bakugou scoffs indignantly, but he’s ignored as Kirishima continues with his list, “You have to kiss me good luck before the big exams, too. And before we go on patrol. Oh! I wonder if Fat Gum would let you patrol with us, sometime!”

“You wanna be the one to ask Endeavor?” Bakugou retorts.

“Oh. No.” He feels Kirishima shake his head before he turns down and kisses Bakugou’s forehead. It’s so sweet and domestic and it’s a gesture that Bakugou doesn’t recall ever experiencing before. It makes him feel warm and he picks his head up to press a lingering kiss to Kirishima’s lips instead.

“I will, maybe, do some of that,” he says, knowing full well that he will do all of it if it means Kirishima will keep smiling like this at him, about him, for him, because of him.

“Can I tell everyone that you’re my boyfriend?” Kirishima asks, brushing a gentle hand through Bakugou’s spikes.

Wow. He really likes the sound of that. Kirishima’s. His. Boyfriend. Which also means, Bakugou’s, mine. It means he’s Kirishima’s and Kirishima is Bakugou’s. He doesn't mind being someone's if that someone is Kirishima.

“…yeah,” he agrees, nodding.

The smile. Yeah, that’s what he wanted to see.

“Can I call you Katsuki now?”

“You’re a menace.”

“You can call me Eijirou.”

“Get out.”

Bakugou isn’t sure how long they stay in his bed. They switch between kissing and talking for hours, and he knows it’s getting late because he’s exhausted and falling asleep on Kirishima’s shoulder. He vaguely realizes that he never studied more, which means Kirishima didn’t either. But they were distracted. He’ll make them study tomorrow and hold kissing hostage until Kirishima passes his practice exams.

To avoid Aizawa’s wrath, Kirishima eventually picks himself up to leave and Bakugou finds himself following him to the door. More lingering kisses by the door and Kirishima complains that he doesn’t want to leave and makes another joke about a to-do list. Bakugou pushes him out by his shoulders, Kirishima cackling and holding up his hands in surrender.

“Goodnight Katsuki,” he smiles, kissing him one more time as he leans back in the doorway.

“Goodnight,” Bakugou insists, mostly closing the door.

“Hm?” Kirishima hums, followed by another peck on the lips.

“Goodnight Eijirou,” he says again and receives a very triumphant look from his boyfriend. Fuck, he really likes that. Kirishima’s beaming like he’s won, but Bakugou doesn’t feel like he lost.

“I love you!”

“…yeah, yeah, you too. Go to sleep!”

It takes a few more tries, but he finally gets his door to close. He can practically see the heart emojis coming off of Kirishima as he leaves.

Finally, he collapses in bed, curling up under his blanket. He stares up at his ceiling blankly for a few minutes before he smiles, biting down on his lips to try to stop it. Then he finds himself laughing quietly, barely a breath and mostly out of his nose, but he’s laughing and he’s so happy.

No. No, he doesn’t hate this at all.

[aimasup]

Maybe i'm late but, did anyone, like actually have left remus in a small place (for his claustrophobia) for like 4 hours or something just because he did something bad? If yes did anyone just stayed here and heard him suffer? Or actually tried to help him out in secret? Sorry if it is long ^^'

Deceit’s smarmy snake grin never left his confident face. Oh god, Remus was giving him the look. No one ever liked being given the look, something that no Side should ever be subject to, carrying the promise of your emotional vulnerability, a sackful of seeing through your bullshit and a dash of demented purity rivaled only by Patton. And Vir

Deceit cleared his throat, loudly and with purpose. “Well? Go on, Remus.”

Remus rolled his eyes, a childish staple of his that always looked comical. “Oh come on, Nope Rope, you and I both know you spout more shit than a bull with diarrhea after one of your nightmares. So you might as well follow it up with some tea.”

So much wrong had just come out of Remus’ mouth. The man smelled like tonsil stones on a good day yet he still managed to surprise the Sides with horrifying bouts of intellect every now and then. The slimy little bugger.

"Clearly you've remembered what I told you about calling me names."

Remus leaned happily. "Nakey Snakey."

"Remus..."

"Boop Noodle!"

"Remus."

"Dangle Fangle!"

"Remus! Shut up!"

Remus feigned offense. "I'm trying out ones that start with a D!"

"That's not my point! Now distract me with musical ditties as you were instructed, you foul wretch!"

"Slithervester Stallone-!" Remus had time to squeal before Deceit squashed his face with a pillow and snatched the remote. The game was on as if by instinct and Remus tackled him from under the pillow, shrieking muffled. Deceit whacked him on the head, hard, with the remote. Remus was distracted momentarily, so Deceit took the chance and shoved him off of him with more force than necessary, insulting him all the while.

"-you nitwit, you just can't listen, can you, you moron, you bitch, you're so thick-headed, do that again and I swear-"

"You'll what, you'll lock me in the closet?"

All of a sudden, it was like an invisible giant had drowned the room in heavy syrup. The tightness from before returned and Deceit, still breathing hard, glared at Remus with gritted teeth and panicked eyes. The Side was below him, pillow on his chest, grin gone and singlet askew.

That one sentence, although it needed no context to tell who had been on the receiving end of it, brought more distress to the deceitful side than it did to the other, strangely enough. They kept their eyes trained on each other. Neither would admit that they felt like they were breathing molasses and it wasn't sweet. The television had long ago blacked out, a deafening silence following its rather meek departure.

Remus' eyes didn't stop glowing. Deceit's didn't either. None were good signs, but Remus still said, in the rare soft tone his voice could manage at times, "That's the problem, isn't it?"

Deceit swallowed. He turned away and stared at the floor, eyes narrowed to slits. He had put down the remote with controlled harshness on the sofa. He exhaled through his nose and never made eye contact with Remus.

Everyone had their little tics. Remus hated being called scary. Roman was a compulsive perfectionist. Patton had a repression habit. And Thomas didn't want to be a bad person.

Neither did Deceit.

"You know I'm over that, right?"

"... obviously."

That could mean anything, and that wasn't even getting to which part of the question he was answering. Remus bit his tongue. His canines dug into the muscle, and he pulled them out again, breathing in the scent of his own blood. Feeling a bit better, he turned away from Deceit and stared at the black screen of the TV.

"No, really you don't have to worry about it. You worrying about it pisses me off."

Still no response.

"Deceit?" Remus couldn't help but feel a bit concerned at this exchange.

------------------

"Who--who are you?" Fun blurbled at the figure on all fours before him. Fresh tear stains still stained his cheeks, an ear-to-ear smile etched below his eyes.

Something was off. Heart had run away with someone who looked like him, and had left him alone. He'd never do that. He'd always stuck with him through anything, no matter what he said or did. But the look Heart had given him... it was as if he didn't know what to make of him all of a sudden. Less than that, even.

The figure, still cautious and poised to pounce, didn't answer. Its impossibly wide reptilian eyes glowed bright in the dark, illuminating nothing on its entirely pitch black body, and Fun could make out nothing but a few familiar features.

"Are you a--a Side too?"It flinched and hissed at him. Fun found that he didn't duck away from the grotesque mouth that opened too wide. Or more like, there wasn't anything in his head that told him it was gross. He found it cute because it was gross, in fact.

When the brown-rimmed mouth closed, it was as if it was never there. It glared at him through narrowed eyes and spat at his feet.

"Oh."

With all the pure spite radiating off of the thing, it still approached, walking perfectly on its hands and legs. It didn't look clumsy moving like that, and Fun suspected it had always been that way.

"Wh--what are you doing?"Fun tried not to find this tiny demonic thing adorable. Didn't help matters when it planted its face on his sticky, black knee (... huh.) and walked off.

Before Fun could process what just happened, it turned around with the calmest expression and stared. And waited. It wanted him to follow.

As adorable as the thing was, Fun still had his doubts. He didn't want to leave. This was where his friends were. Curious little Learning, sweet as sugar Heart, cowardly yet caring Careful. But he had a feeling they didn't want to see him again.

It broke his heart.

So with a greasy squelch, Fun struggled to his feet and went with the creature.

------------------

"Deceit, you need to stop holding yourself over that. We can't be like the Others."

The further lack of response frustrated Remus. He probably should be trying to comfort Deceit, but that wasn't his type. Tough lo--learning would have to do, it was how it always went. They couldn't afford to be wishy-washy with stuff like feelings.

"Deceit, if you don't stop feeling bad about it I'm gonna smack the shit out of you. With my bare hands. And this morning star."

"Aren't you trying too hard not to be Roman?"

Remus slammed his weapon into the pillow. "Well I think you're trying too hard to be Patton!"

"Wouldn't you think Virgil would have wanted that?" Deceit was weary. Remus breathed in sharply through his teeth and stuttered.

"What?"

"It's clear we weren't the best to him. It's not his fault he left. It was for the best. He needs better than us. He deserves better than us."

"What the fuck!" Remus threw up his hands. "What the fuck, Deceit! What happened to being your own person? What happened to not giving a shit about living up to anyone's standards?! You don't know what you're talking about, because you're tired, and you're just a hypocrite who was never able to see past your own horseshit!"

"I know."

Remus wanted to rip his hair out. Deceit's or his own, he didn't really care. "Jesus Christ! Ugh!"

He flumped into a pillow and screamed into it.

Deceit watched him.

------------------

"You know, it's kinda weird how you don't wanna be called a Side, you know? Like, you look like Heart, and we all know that Heart looks the most like Thomas. So you gotta be pretty important. If you look the most like Thomas. Next to Heart. You know what I'm saying?"

It was still silent. The quiet walk down the tattered corridor had been awkward, and now that they were up the stairs and in some padded room that was probably the creature's, Fun tried to fill the silence as the creature studied him. It prowled around Fun as he sat cross legged on the floor, leaking tar all over the place.

"And, well, Learning is super important too. And Careful. We're all super important." It brushed by his shoulder and stared at his back with interest for a good two seconds before sitting back on its haunches.

"But Learning only looks the second most like Thomas. Careful just likes his hair to be all dangly. Though he clips it back sometimes to fit in? I think? I dunno."

"Anyways, I just thought that maybe once we're done here, with." Fun looked at the creature. "Whatever this is. I could bring you back with me to the others! I just got rid of the bad stuff in me, and once I get all cleaned up, and you too, we'll be all okay again!"

The creature stopped prodding at his back and he could feel it staring into nothing. Fun couldn't help but note the lack of breath on his neck. Either it gave up trying to appear human a long time ago or it was just that short. He giggled at the thought.

But that faded away when he started feeling slight concern. It was too silent. He hated silence. Fun turned to look over his shoulder, then shuffled his body around to peer at the creature, who was now deep in thought.

"Hey bud? What's wrong with ya? Cat got your tongue?" He chuckled. "I've heard that from Learning and Heart a lot. You're gonna love em. They'll help you lighten up! Trust me, we've been through lots together, they'll like you too!"

It lifted its head up and fixated him with the saddest stare anyone could give a Side. Fun felt his excitement at meeting a new friend weather away when he felt that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

A thin line of brown appeared, and widened. It's eyes darted here and there with consideration. It was choosing its words. Fun titled his head as it strained to force out words.

"Not."

"Uh. Huh? You can talk!"

"Fun."

"Wait, what are you saying?"

It bounced in place with clear frustration. After clutching its head and shaking it, it tried again.

"You. Not." It tried once more. "You. Not! You! Not! Fun!"

Fun withered under its glare, a little hurt. "I'm not fun to be with? I'm sorry, uh-"

"No!"

Fun's heart ached for the thing, confused and intrigued. All of them learned how to speak along with Thomas. How was it that this Side didn't?

"Gone."

"..."

"Fun. Gone."

"I really don't understand."

"Fun." It drew a capital F in the air. He nodded, a little less lost. It nodded too.

"Fun. Split. Gone. You. Green. Half. Heart. You. Red. Half. You." It was closer now. It stuck a finger onto Fun's chest, sorrowful expression looking like it was supposed to be welling up with tears. Its jaw trembled. "Half. Bad. Half."

"Not. Their. Fun."

Fun wasn't so sure about anything anymore. He understood it perfectly, he just really didn't want to. "You can't be serious."

It was. It looked as if it has never been more certain of anything in its life. It lowered its head.

Panic gripped him like no other and his mind began racing. He gestured wildly.

"Then--then who's that other half?! They can't go on without Fun! Thomas can't go on without Fun!" The partial emptiness that he'd been trying to ignore a long time ago had grown more apparent as he ranted. "I can't let that happen! What will they do?"

Half. Bad. Half.

It struck. 'Fun' felt his chest drop to his stomach. "They. I'm the bad half."

The creature was still as a statue."They--they think--they think the red me is--is Fun, they, Learning, Careful, H-Heart--they don't know me."

The black and green outfitted grease blob blubbered on. "It's--it's not fair! I know them! I drew pictures with Thomas, I came up with our names, I--I'm--I know what Fun knows!"

He desperately turned to the creature in front of him. "They can't do this! I-if the other me is Fun, then I'm Fun too! I'm still Fun! I still know them! I still love them! At the very least, I'm still one of Thomas' Sides!" The creature silently stared as he kept talking, as his words blurred together with cries of anguish, as he put his forehead to the floor, bunching his sash in his hands. All tears had run out earlier, and there were only bawls of despair that dissolved into whimpers.

The humanoid grease blob didn't know what to call himself anymore. But it still wasn't fair at all. The truth was that. They thought that their Fun had returned from the battle, sword held high and rid of the beast. To them, Fun was better than ever.

But what was he?

------------------

"When you explained in your dumb loophole way that my stupid ass brother wasn't me, it was the first time you had advice you didn't follow, did you?"

"Remus, you can't pretend you don't feel the same."

"Fuck off!" Remus groaned. "I'm not pretending for anything, Dee, I've said it multiple times, I have nothing I want to hide! But you can't be serious about wanting to be like Patton!"

Deceit pondered his answer. "I may or may not have considered it."

Remus let go of Deceit's shirt slowly. He still fixated him with fierce angry eyes as his fingers loosened, setting the smaller Side down a little. So he didn't actually think it. Just a passing thought. Okay then.

Deceit straightened his collar and smoothed out the wrinkles in his outfit. And he was back to looking sullenly at the a spot on the carpet.

Remus swallowed. God, this was harder than it needed to be. He wondered if this was how Deceit felt when he was younger, rawer in his state, unable to speak in anything but opposites. He didn't have to teach Deceit how to not speak in opposites, because the more they raised each other, the more Deceit's black scales had resided and his speech freedom loosened up.

They always talked it out, they always had to stick close. So why was it so hard now?

------------------

The squeal of unbridled joy when it was introduced to noir films, the long bath chases, the practice with his creations and tentacles, the nights spent splayed out messily on the same bed after a nightmare. It was simple. So simple.

------------------

Deceit could feel the stare from Remus leaving him. God, if that moron tried to comfort him now he was going to explode. His eye would leak tears like a broken faucet and he would be a pathetic blubbering mess, and Remus would have blackmail until the day Thomas finally died.

He swore he could feel the long exhale and mutterings as Remus thought on what to say. He really didn't care, in the end. Deceit wanted nothing more than to do his job and think nothing of anything ever again. He didnt--

"Virgil's gone, and there's nothing we can or could do about it. Because of how we are. It's jackshit to say we can change our nature. Nothing. Nada. Zero." Firm hands with black acrylics gripped his shoulder and turned his tired eyes onto Remus' own.

"Feeling sorry for yourself won't change anything. Things happen, jackoff."

Deceit's breath hitched, but he didn't quite feel like crying, oddly enough. Strange that through gritted teeth and eyes that could gleam death to anyone who doesn't know Remus well, he felt more clarification than all his thoughts combined. His mind had chanted a mantra of things his whole life, and what Remus said was only one of them. Deceit had been hoping to finally hear them from an outside source. But somehow, someway, Remus had found a way to make this line of reasoning sound less harsh.

Unpredictable as always.

"Remus. I.."

He placed his hands gently on Remus' wrists, patted twice. Remus let go and studied him, an air of sternness and also nervousness apparent in his face. They simmered in the unsaid apology, sitting on the couch in their lonely, mangy living room, like it was a vague yet satisfactory ending to a movie. That was how all their arguments would usually end, but it was rarely in any way fulfilling.

Deceit thought on it. Swallowing the hard lump in his throat, he choked out a laugh. "God, we're such a mess."

Glad the tension was broken, Remus smiled, ugly shark teeth in full view. "Yeah we are. We're the Mindscape's dumpster fires."

They were delirious with more emotion than they experienced on a daily basis, and they both chortle along to Remus' weak joke. Jesus, if you could lose fat due to mental work as well as physical, Thomas would be underweight by now.

Remus shook his head. "Honestly, you can't think too much about it. Just think of all the times we battered each other in this place, and you'll feel better about the closet thing."

Deceit snorted. "How is it that I'm more affected by it than you? Like all the times you ripped out my hair."

"Or all the times you silenced us whenever you felt like it."

"Or all those times you slammed me in to a hard surface."

"Remember that one time you left me in the closet for a week?"

"I still remember how I silenced Virgil for a month."

Remus snapped his fingers. "Yeah, Virgil, I remember how many times he gave us hallucinations. Sometimes he'd give us panic attacks for the hell of it!" He laughed.

"He was always quite the hothead."

"That's not even counting his stabs. Not just with a knife."

"Knowing you, that could mean anything."

Remus swooshed his hands in a rainbow-shaped gesture gleefully."Oooooh, whatever you want it to mean!" The joke was lacking and childish, but Remus' delivery was so goofy.

Deceit chuckled, back of his hand pressed daintily to his mouth as always. Remus giggled in short bursts of high-pitched derangement along with him.

Then it dissolved into awkward silence as they pondered their situation, up at ass o' clock in the morning, sprawled over the couch in undignified manners, dim light flickering because they were too depressed to fix it, talking about unreasonable hostile behavior so casually like they were fond memories of family vacations.

"... let's go make breakfast."

"Okay, Caution Ramen."

"I'm sorry?"

"Hazard Spaghetti. Murder Spagurder."

"...what."

"Judgemental Shoelace."

"Oh, shut the fuck up."

------------------

"No! Get away!" The sobbing figure cowered away from the green and yellow-tinted Sides, if you could call them that.

Bad Thoughts put his hands out. "Woah, woah, hey, we won't hurt you! Much."

Deceit slapped Bad Thoughts as the Side, who was slowly fading into a full black and purple from the legs up, put his hands in his hair and screamed louder. "Shut up! Go away! I'm sorry! Please! I hate you! Go away!"

"Well that's a lot of mixed signals." Bad Thoughts muttered. Careful looked a lot different from what he had remembered. He was seeming more tired and grievous. A faint spark of recognition flashed across Careful's eyes when he peeked up at him, but ducked away when Bad Thoughts stretched the arm with his morning star.

Without a word, Deceit knelt down and wrapped his arms around Careful. He flinched, but he stopped sobbing at least. He was still breathing hard when BT decided to join in, planting himself as softly as he knew how to on Caution.

"You're okay," Deceit murmured. "You're alright. You won't hurt anyone. You won't do that."

Caution hiccupped, staring at the ceiling, eyes brimming with angry tears. He hissed though gritted teeth."How--how do you know? You don't understand, I cause so many problems--"

"Yeah, we do. We know that. But that's you." Remus said. "Who cares if you do? Causing problems is what we do around here. You can't blame yourself for doing what you do best."

Caution was still dubious. He was sniffling. Slowly, he put his arms on Deceit's back. "I don't want to make more trouble."

Deceit lowered his head onto his shoulder. "Just come with us. We cause trouble, but whether you want to do that is up to you."

The black was receding, but the purple still lingered a little. All four of Caution's eyes blinked.

Remus pulled away, leaving only his hand on Careful's shoulder. His old friend, who didn't know who he was, who was meeting him for the first time. "Besides, I don't think you meant to cause that breakdown."

Caution finally turned and looked, actually looked at him for the first time since they were children. "You don't?"

"Nope!"

The purple color was down to his knees again. The black was gone.

"But," Caution started, both Sides pulling back to give him space. "But, it was so unnecessary, and--and the whole damn class was watching, and the other sides were freaked out-"

"Yeah, so? It was cool! Don't you think it's some way of letting everyone know that Thomas was upset? Things were getting hairy and you pulled it off perfectly." Remus gave an exaggerated chef's kiss in the air.

"That power is something only you hold, storm cloud." Deceit said. "Like Remus said, it's who you are. It was quite the display."

Caution eyed them suspiciously. "Yeah, well, you guys would think so."

"Don't you see? If you come with us, you can learn to control that! You can choose your own rules, you can choose when you want to have influence over Thomas!" Deceit lowered his voice. "You can protect Thomas by forcing the others to hear how much you try."

Caution didn't make eye contact, finding it difficult when two people stared at once. But he was thinking about it, clearly. The others had been trying to ignore him lately, and no one had to be a genius to figure that out. The rise and fall of his chest grew a little quicker as he realized how unfair it was that he was just trying to be a Side, and Thomas didn't care. The spite and betrayal was evident in his eyes, the same that had plagued Bad Thoughts and Deceit so many times in their childhood.

It was decided.

He looked up with grim determination. "C-call me Fear."

Previous parts here and here

Claustrophobic Remus post here

[teddy-bear-surprise]

hi!! how are you? i seen your post about wanting to write headcannons or blurbs and i didn't know if you wanted them to be birthday related but osbddkndjdd staying up until exactly 12 am with peter and once it hits, the reader gives him a bunch of kisses & let's him now how happy she is to be with him!!!

This story is also available on AO3 and Wattpad!

Hi! Thank you so much for the request, I'm doing great today and I hope you are too <3

MASTERLIST

Title: Midnight Birthday

Word Count: ~2.4k

Warnings: None (they joke around about poop and farts, which makes me sound immature, but I promise it’s funny and not like serious)

Context needed: Y/N

I deviated slightly from the prompt on accident, but I hope you enjoy it :)

Your phone rang loudly for the third time, prompting you to finally pick up. Normally, you would ignore everyone’s phone calls, but you realized that Peter was the one calling you. You had set a special ringtone for him, just so this wouldn’t happen, yet he still had to call multiple times just to get your attention.

“Hey, Peter! Sorry I didn’t pick up before… You know how it is, right?”

Peter chuckled on the other end of the line, “Yeah, I know. We should really come up with a better system for you. I don’t even want to imagine what would happen if there was an emergency and they had to call you. I know you can’t see me right now, but just the thought gave me goosebumps.”

You heard him shudder, “I’m sure you’re very goosebumpy, Spider-Kid.”

“Hey!” He asserted jokingly, “You know that I prefer ‘Spider-Man’, you know that. And don’t be mean to me! I’m over here calling to invite you out to dinner and this is what I get? I am beyond hurt. I will never recover.” Peter emphasized each word as sarcastically as he possibly could.

“Oh, get over yourself drama queen. Spider-Boy, Spider-Kid, Spider-Man, it’s all the same thiiinnggggg. Just take the compliment, hun. In thirty years– when you’re all old, wrinkly, and a Spider-Senior –you’ll be missing the days when people called you Spider-Kid. Now, what were you saying about dinner?”

“I said I wanted to invite you out to dinner! Were you not listening?”

You rolled your eyes and wished he could see your face right now. “I got that part, genius. I meant like what kind of dinner… Y’know, Where? When? The details, Pete, the details.”

“Oohhhh, that would make sense.” He laughed quietly, shaking his head at his own stupidity. “I was thinking that we could go to that restaurant you love, you know the one you were talking about the other day… Ummmm I think it was called Sveleka? Right? So we could go there around 7…”

Peter’s voice trailed off as he tried to remember the details of his plan and you cut in. “It’s Veselka, but that would be great, Pete. I’ll see you there at 7, love you.”

You hung up the phone before Peter even got a chance to reply. Your phone skills were rudimentary, to say the least, and it always got you into trouble. Luckily, Peter understood your bizarre hatred of phones and phone calls, allowing you to talk to him without worrying too much.

You knew that his birthday was tomorrow and you had developed a plan of your own. It was supposed to be a surprise, and the last thing you were expecting was for him to ask you out to dinner the night before his own birthday. In a way, it made you appreciate him even more, knowing that he loved you enough to randomly call you and ask you out to dinner. But now, thanks to his unexpected decision, you only had two hours to rearrange everything before meeting up with him for dinner. You stared at the giant teddy bear sitting on your bed and sighed. Even though your plan was technically easier to carry out now, you felt a twinge of annoyance about having to modify your schedule.

Originally, you wanted to sneak into Peter’s apartment, along with May’s help, and surprise him with a giant teddy bear that said “I love you” when you hugged it. Ideally, you would get there right at midnight, as the night turned from August 9th to 10th, and show him that you cared. That you cared about his birthday, his happiness, and his wellbeing.

You shook away the thought and positioned the teddy bear so that it looked like it wanted to give you a hug. In between its warm, fluffy arms, you placed a small box. This box was technically Peter’s real present. It contained a small, circular locket with one half of a glass spider and a key. In the very same box, you included a long handwritten note telling Peter how much you loved him and how proud you were of him. Once you rearranged the box and bear to your liking, you began to get ready.

The closet of your apartment was minuscule, as was the whole place, and the limited space had led you to develop a very limited wardrobe. Your outfits only consisting of basic black pieces, one dark green jacket, and three pairs of shoes. Peter always joked that he loved how your closet all looked the same, claiming that it made it easier to find you if you ever got lost in a crowd. You both knew that was far from true since everyone in Manhattan loves wearing black, but you appreciated that he was so kind about your unconventional fashion decision.

You grabbed a simple, long black skirt and a silky black tank top, changing out of your pajamas. It might have been five o’clock in the afternoon, but pajamas stayed on until you left the house. That was just the rule. While you fixed your hair and makeup, you began to worry that Peter would figure out your plan. It was a slightly irrational thought, especially since he was socially inept and on multiple occasions forgot when his birthday was. Still, the thought plagued your mind until the moment you were ready to leave.

As you walked to Grand Central station, you texted Aunt May, letting her know that the plan had changed. May had been the biggest supporter of you and Peter’s relationship from the start. Honestly, she was the only one you could trust because she was the only one who could keep both your and Peter’s identities a secret. You hopped onto the Six heading downtown, hoping that she would reply before your service completely cut out.

You: Hi, May. Peter invited me out for dinner at the last minute so we might have to rearrange a bit.

May: This is why I told you to make plans with him ahead of time, so we wouldn’t run into any bumps like this.

You: I know, sorry. I wasn’t expecting him to do this.

May: I was kind of expecting it… I made a bet with myself that he would do this and it looks like I won!

You: You bet on us?? Is this like a reoccurring thing???

May: Definitely not. That would be immature. I’d never do that.

You shook your head at your phone, laughing at how obvious it was that May bet on your and Peter’s relationship. To you, May was like a second mother, or just a really cool aunt. She seemed to understand how to be just serious enough, but not stiff. Not to mention that she was ten times nicer and more supportive of you than your actual mom.

You: I’m gonna pretend that the last part of the conversation never happened. But what I wanted to tell you was that I’m going to meet Peter for dinner around 7 at Veselka so I won’t be able to go back to my apartment and then to Peter’s in time. I just left the bear at my apartment and I’m thinking of asking Peter to go home with me after we eat, what do you think?

May: Sounds like a solid plan, kiddo. Good luck, and please don’t let Peter eat too many of those sauerkraut pierogies this time, he was gassy for two days. It wasn’t fun.

You: Thanks for the gross heads-up, May. Byeeee

You got off at Astor Place and walked in silence towards the restaurant. You were looking at the ground, head hanging low, when Peter called out to you from across the street.

“Y/N, hi!”

You looked up at him and smiled at the goofy boy waving at you. “Hi, Peter!”

Jogging across the street, you made eye contact with him. He held out a hand towards you, helping you onto the sidewalk, and embraced you. Peter kissed the top of your head softly and gave you one last squeeze before letting go.

“So, I guess we’re both early then. I gotta say that I’m shocked, Parker. I wasn’t expecting you to get here before me.”

“What can I say, I’m full of surprises.” Peter winked at you.

---

The two of you merrily ate your dinner, with Peter threatening to instigate a food fight more than once. You talked about anything and everything, by the time you two were ready to pay the bill, it was almost 11 and you were stuffed.

Peter rubbed his hand on his stomach, poking at it, “I think it would be physically impossible for me to eat any more. Like I would just spchwoooo,” he mimicked an explosion with his hands, “explode.”

“I’m just glad we didn’t order any of those sauerkraut pierogies, May said they made you all gassy last time. I don’t even want to know what would have happened if you ate those and the stuffed cabbage.”

“What?! May said that? I never get gassy. Ever.” Peter lowered his voice, “I’m literally superhuman, it takes more than some sauerkraut and cabbage to mess with this iron stomach.”

“That’s not even close to being true. You had explosive diarrhea after that burrito two weeks ago, and don’t blame the food, you were the only one out of the three of us who got sick. Did you forget that May and I had to take you to the hospital? Because I don’t think that counts as an ‘iron stomach’.”

The two of you argued about stomachs, diarrhea, and food the rest of the way to your apartment, stopping every few minutes to point out airplanes flying overhead. You insisted on walking home so you could arrive almost exactly at midnight. Plus having Spider-Man by your side was basically a guarantee of safety, even in Manhattan. Peter held your hand the whole time, swinging it like a smitten teenager. After walking nearly fifty blocks, you arrived at your apartment. You noticed that Peter seemed hesitant, only lightly resting his foot on the first step leading up the building.

“C’mon, let’s watch a movie or something. I don’t want you to leave yet.” You pouted and tugged on Peter’s hand, pulling him up into the doorway.

“Well then, I guess I’m not leaving.”

---

The two of you were cuddled on your small couch watching Buzzfeed Unsolved, Peter’s favorite show, but you weren’t paying attention. Every few seconds your eyes would dart up at the clock, waiting for the hour hand to strike 12. Peter was entranced, never letting his attention deviate from the screen, and he didn’t even notice that you weren’t looking at the TV. The minutes went by slowly and you were counting down the seconds until midnight, gripping onto Peter’s arm. He thought that you were just scared by the prospect of unsolved murders, not that you were anxiously waiting for his birthday.

The last second passed and the clock struck 12, you immediately jumped out of Peter’s embrace and turned to him. Peter sat up in shock, confused by your sudden movement. You took the opportunity to straddle him and grab his face.

“Happy birthday, My Love.”

You peppered his face with sweet kisses and his eyes widened. His body softened under your touch as a feeling of love and happiness filled his heart. Peter snaked his hands up your thighs, letting them rest on your hips, and squeezed softly. You gave him one last kiss on the lips and rested your forhead against his.

“I have a surprise for you, Birthday Boy.” You lifted yourself off of his lap and held your hand out to him.

Peter took your hand and followed you obediently, curious to see what his surprise was. You opened the door to your room, revealing the large stuffed bear and its matching box. Peter let go of your hand and excitedly ran towards your bed.

Before he could say anything, you began speaking, “I know it’s not much, and I know you probably thought that I’d have like a trail of rose petals in here or something like that. But I wanted to show you that my love for you isn’t just about our physical relationship, my love for you i-is emotional and wholesome. I love you, Peter Parker. I truly love you and I’m so happy that you’re mine. I mean, every morning I wake up, I remember that I’m dating you, and that makes me the happiest person in the world.” You reached over to the box in Peter’s hands, “So, Peter Parker, will you accept this key?”

You opened the box and Peter’s cheeks glowed red. His eyes sparkled with excitement as he nodded his head.

“Yes! I love you so much too. I- Thank you,” He paused, “Oh no. Wait, I don’t have a key for yo–”

“Pete, this is your birthday present. I wouldn’t expect you to give me a gift on your birthday, silly.”

He rambled energetically, “You’re right… I’m still going to get you a copy though. Oh my gosh. I love this so much, and is this a spider because I’m Spider-Man?! Where’s the other half? This is so cool!”

You held up your matching locket, opening it to reveal the other half. “Yep, it is because you’re Spider-Boy. The best superhero in town. And, don’t throw away the little note at the bottom. Well, don’t open it now, but if you ever need a reminder of how much I love you, just read that note.”

Peter held your hands in his and pulled you down, both of you crashing into the giant teddy bear. The second you fell onto it, it blurted a freakish, distorted “I love you”, scaring both of you. You jumped up and looked at a wide-eyed Peter.

“Y’know, maybe we don’t need the bear. I don’t really want to be on the next episode of Unsolved.”

You laughed at Peter’s joke, pushing the bear onto the ground and kissed him. His soft lips tasted like the blueberry dessert you shared and his skin was as soft as butter.

You pulled away, foreheads resting together once more. Peter whispered, “Thank you for giving me the happiest midnight birthday, darling.”