#makes it even more harder to communicate what I actually want to say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

koqabear · 1 year ago

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love fool ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

♫: Seven, Jungkook // Lovefool, The Cardigans // I only want to be with you, Tommy february6

“In which Yeonjun is more than willing to show you the lengths he’ll go for you.”

yeonjun x fem!reader

Genre: established relationship, inspired by “Seven” mv, fluff, angst, smut

Word count: 10.6K

warnings: don’t take this story seriously pls. it’s ridiculous. yj is clingy. and emotional. and a bit pathetic. the mc is avoidant… and a bit of a bitch ! Lack of communication smh, a bit toxic if u squint ur eyes but it’s supposed to be cute idk (seven mv type toxic skdjdj) yj is a frat boy & a himbo (pick a struggle, pls), arguing, mc has acrylic nails, use of the phrase “boyfriend-girlfriend” bc i’m obsessed w it

smut warnings: mean dom!mc, sub!yj, (mentions of dom!yj) service top!yj, unprotected sex, manhandling (m. rec), hairpulling, name calling, (bitch, stupid, slut, etc) pet names (baby, good boy), dry humping, biting, marking, scent kink (?), scratching, dumbification, dacryphilia, forced orgasm (kinda), multiple orgasms, overstimulation, yj rambles. a lot. breast play, handjob, humiliation, creampie, subspace, implied oral (f. rec) (lemme know if i should add anything!)

Notes: fucking hate arguing with men w/ pretty puppy eyes like i will fuck the shit outta y-

Yeonjun hates when you’re mad at him. It makes him feel guilty and leaves him with a gross feeling in his stomach, pouty and annoying as his friends are always left to deal with the mess.

It doesn’t happen often— he tries his hardest not to make you mad, always saying yes and going above and beyond with you— he loves to please you and make you happy, which is exactly why it hits harder when you look at him like you never want to see him again.

“I don’t want to see you around, don’t talk to me!”

But sometimes, he just can’t help it.

He seriously doesn’t know what he did wrong— there were no anniversaries forgotten, no plans he stood you up on, no petty arguments— and yet, here he sits, sinking into his couch and burrowed in blankets as his friends try to get him to come out of his cocoon, all with no success.

“Is she mad at you again?” Beomgyu asks, his voice muffled despite sitting on top of Yeonjun— literally, he couldn’t feel his legs— and he hears him groan at the sight of Yeonjun nodding under the mass of blankets, cursing quietly to himself and undoubtedly rolling his eyes, “dude, what did you do?”

“I don’t knowww,” Yeonjun cries out, throwing the blankets off him and onto Beomgyu as he whines— he watches as Beomgyu flails about for a second, running his hands through his hair as he continues to stress about you, “she— she said she didn’t wanna see me again, but I miss her…”

“Fuck, she’s probably just saying that because she wants space— dude, are you crying?”

“What if she was breaking up with me?” Yeonjun asks, and Beomgyu is amazed to see the way his wide eyes are welling up with tears; god, he’s actually crying now, the sight childish and unhinged as he watches his (older) friend sniffle and hiccup through his sentences, “what if— what if she— she, she, she really meant it— god, I don’t wanna break up, I don’t even know what I did wronggg!”

“Okay, okay,” Beomgyu grimaces, watching the way his friend breaks down before his eyes; his hand is stiff and awkward as it pats Yeonjun’s back, trying his best to comfort him, wincing at the way Yeonjun only cries harder, “It’s… probably nothing, I’m sure she’ll talk to you again tomorrow, or once she’s calmed down.”

“You think?” Yeonjun asks, peeking through his hands and up at Beomgyu with sparkling eyes, full of hope as Beomgyu can only crack a nervous smile.

“Yeah,” he says, patting Yeonjun’s back again in reassurance, “Yeah— just, be patient, okay?”

Patient is the last word one would use to describe Yeonjun.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

MONDAY

This is it.

Yeonjun has been waiting all weekend for this moment (Or just Sunday, to be more accurate), restless on his feet as he finds himself pacing back and forth— he’s nibbling at his lip nervously, arms sore and tired from the weight of the gift he holds in his hands; a bouquet of your favorite flowers, pristine and in full bloom— it’s large and quite heavy as it practically covers his face, but Yeonjun knew that a small bouquet would do nothing to show his love for you.

He would try to talk to you as soon as your class ended. He needed to know what he did wrong, and he sure as hell would not do it again. You didn’t text him after the argument, and it only left him uneasy at the thought of you really wanting to end things.

He didn’t want to lose you. Not like this.

Admittedly, he got a bit ahead of himself— he’s been waiting outside for the past half hour, arriving much too early as he stood out in the hall awkwardly— at some point, he tried peeking into the small, rectangular window next to the door, hunched over slightly and pouting as he scanned the room for you.

When he spotted you, he was delighted to see you had already been looking at him.

He couldn’t contain the wide smile that stretched across his face, waving at you excitedly in hopes you’d do the same— unable to realize that the whole class was now looking at him, he was confused to watch the way your face screwed up into an expression of sheer embarrassment, shielding your face with your hand and looking away as some students began following his line of sight.

Why did you do that? You were ignoring him, and it hurt like a bitch as Yeonjun frowned. His mind was racing as he began wondering what he might’ve done wrong— he was so focused, in fact, that he failed to notice the professor blocking his view, his reaction time much too slow as his eyes flickered up to meet the man’s gaze. Flustered, he backed away quickly, his face heating up as he bowed in apology— he hugged the bouquet close to his chest as he did, mumbling out a soft sorry the man probably couldn’t even hear.

You, on the other hand, could hear the way your professor laughed at Yeonjun’s actions, absolutely mortified by the way he turned around and began to joke to the class, saying that “It looks like someone here has an admirer,” whilst looking in your direction, your classmates laughing along before he went back to his lecture.

Shit, this was so embarrassing.

Yeonjun is so fucking stupid, you cry to yourself, peeking over at the doorway in hopes that he took the hint and left— but no, he definitely didn’t, because you could still see his figure through the window, leaning against the wall and holding an item the size of his whole upper body close to his chest.

The last thing you wanted to do was go outside and see him— but that’s exactly what happened anyway, even if you lingered behind once class ended in hopes that Yeonjun would get impatient and wait— patience was never his strongest virtue, after all.

But for you, anything could change.

This is exactly why you find him outside the door, face hidden with what is, to your surprise, a large bouquet of your favorite flowers.

Fuck, you seriously don’t want to talk to him right now. Gritting your teeth, you use this moment to sneak past him, a slight guilt tugging at you as you look back, spotting the way he seems oblivious to the fact that you’ve left already.

Looking back was your first mistake.

Because Yeonjun, in a truly creepy fashion, is almost able to sense it, whipping his head to you and perking up at the way you only walk faster— then begin sprinting, refusing to look back again once he starts chasing after you.

“Baby,” you hear him call out to you, the ridiculous rustling of his bouquet slightly muffling his words as his footsteps thud against the tiles; for an athlete, you’d expect him to catch up to you already, but you quietly pat yourself on the back for the slight head start you gave yourself.

“Baby, wait!” he continues to yell, ignoring the strange stares from those passing by, “Please, let me talk to you!”

“I don’t wanna talk!” you growl out, your emotions taking over as you remember why you’re mad at him, “leave me alone!”

You’re outside now; you’re a huffing and sweaty mess, but you refuse to slow down for even a second, the threat of Yeonjun hot on your heels fueling your stamina.

“Can you please tell me what I did wrong?” He yells, exasperated as he watches you run off the sidewalk— you’re attempting to lose him, but countless running drills and morning runs have prepared him for this moment— without a second thought, he’s following you, attempting to peek over his— inconveniently large, he must admit— bouquet, watching the way you simply continue to run, glancing back every once in a while to see if he’s still there.

“Please, can we be civil and talk about this?!” his words have you turning around to send him a glare— instead, you stumble to a stop as you watch Yeonjun trip, eyes widening at the dramatic sight before you.

He’s fallen flat on his face, a puff of petals blowing up around him as you wince— he’s face-first into whatever’s left of the flowers, the rest of the petals fluttering in the air around him and falling delicately on his figure as you stare, the place eerily silent save for the chirping birds and rustling leaves.

He doesn’t say anything— he doesn’t make a sound, doesn’t even attempt to get up, left splattered all over the grass as you stare at him in slight concern.

“Yeonjun?” you call out uncertainly, shifting on your feet as you pause. He doesn’t respond— he’s left frozen on the ground, and you’re frowning at the sight as you slowly make your way to him; you approach him slowly, as though you were approaching a wild animal, tense in your movements as you lean in to observe him.

“Did you die?” you ask quietly, taking in the way he still hasn’t moved. Not an inch. You feel more concerned than you want to admit, crouching down in front of him as you bite your lip in worry.

“Do you hate me.” the sudden words have you flinching, staring down at Yeonjun, who’s still eating dirt and flowers. You frown, scoffing at the way he weakly reaches out for you— swiftly, you slap his hand, watching the way it flops back onto the ground.

“No— yes— a little,” you stutter out, angry at the way you bounce between responses just from the mere pathetic sight of him.

“Can you forgive me?” he asks, the words muffled as it takes you a minute to decipher what he may be saying— you can’t help but roll your eyes at his antics.

“For what?” you ask, picking a petal off his back absentmindedly as you wait— if he could answer properly, you might consider giving in.

“For existing.”

God, Yeonjun was such a sap. It has you biting back a smile as you resist the urge to stroke his hair, mused and riddled with petals from his grand gesture— but his answer was not the one you were looking for, and you’re standing back up and readjusting your clothes without another word.

“pleaaaaseee,” you hear him whine, watching the way he shrivels up into a ball— then, he’s sitting back on his legs, whipping his head up and looking at you with wide, teary eyes.

“Please take the flowers with you at least,” he pouts, thrusting the bouquet— or, whatever was left of it— up at you with pleading eyes.

Pressing your lips together, you sigh; a moment passes before you’re taking the gift from him begrudgingly, ignoring the way he perks up happily at your action.

“I’m still mad at you,” you hiss, and he immediately deflates at your words, “Don’t visit my class like that again. Please.”

He says nothing, left to watch as you turn your back to him and walk away; he has yet to get up, his heart pounding against his chest as he watches the way you hug the flowers close to you, shaking your head at the state of them.

This was… progress.

But you’re still mad at him.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

TUESDAY

Visiting you in class was a big no.

Visiting you in general, however, wasn’t off-limits.

You don’t want to talk to him? Fine, he can understand. In fact, he won’t talk to you at all— a feat much greater said than done— but hey, he always loved staring at you anyway.

Well, it’s a little hard to stare by the way you’ve propped up textbooks around your face like a fort.

He’s staring. He’s still staring. You can practically feel his puppy-eyed gaze burn into your brain telepathically; no matter how hard you try to focus on your work, it’s become damn near impossible with the way you can feel Yeonjun’s presence, your neck beginning to ache from the way you’ve remained ducked down this whole time.

It was easy to deal with at first; you chose not to do anything the moment you saw Yeonjun emerge from the staircase and onto the top floor of the library— otherwise known as the quietest level.

He wouldn’t be able to talk to you without disturbing the peace of others— and potentially being asked to leave— so you decided to not make a scene and go back to studying, even when you felt his eyes lock on your figure and beeline to you.

He sat across from you first. Though, you were quick to move, pretending as though you were looking for a book as you quickly ran away to the other side of the library. You felt the way his eyes followed you the whole time— he looked like a kicked puppy, and damn did that stupid tactic of his always work, because you even felt yourself pausing for a second, wondering if you should give in and talk to him.

But, you are a horrendously petty person.

You were holed up in some random corner. You didn’t even know there was a table there until today, the spot so secluded and quiet that you silently celebrated getting him off your trail.

It was peaceful— for like, a good ten minutes.

You didn’t think much of it when you first heard it; footsteps, slow and calculated as they rounded about the bookshelves. You could hear the sound of books being pulled out clear as day, though you chose to ignore it all and keep focus on your assignments instead.

After a moment, the footsteps disappeared.

It was back to being completely silent. And, in your bored state, you began to look around the area you were huddled up in; curiously, you allowed yourself to walk around, reading the spines and pulling out books that seemed to pique your interest even slightly.

There seemed to be another person here as well— maybe it was the same person as before, or maybe it was someone new— you didn’t pay mind to it nonetheless, continuing your journey as your eyes locked in on a particularly colorful book.

Slowly, you pulled it out— on the other side, you watched the book adjacent to yours slowly get pulled out as well, and a smile tugged at your lips at the odd coincidence.

Then, your eyes met with Yeonjun’s.

His gaze filled with admiration was only returned with a mean scowl from you. You were quick to shove the book back into its place, storming off to your table without a moment’s hesitation.

Yeonjun was quickly able to find your hiding spot— one might think you could cry from the way you buried your face into your hands defeatedly, refusing to look up from your dark refuge as the sounds of a chair scraping against the carpeted floors met your ears.

That’s how you found yourself here, ignoring what people might think as you hide behind your fortress of textbooks. You didn’t feel good staying in a secluded area with Yeonjun— not because you thought he might try to do anything— but because you were afraid of your own resolve crumbling, especially after you’d spent so much time trying to ignore him.

You wonder if he’s still here. Who are you kidding, of course he’s still here, though you can’t really bring yourself to check and see for yourself.

After a while, you hear scribbling sounds.

You can’t hide the way you jump as a piece of paper hits your head, folded into a perfect heart and landing in front of you with a dull thud.

Open me :( it says, and though you wish you could say you were strong enough to ignore it, you definitely aren’t.

Can you pls let me look at u at least?

You don’t get much of a moment to process the message. Another paper lands directly in front of you, shaped into a heart and scrawled with the same words as the last— slowly, you open it, dreading what might be written inside this time.

I miss you so so so so so much.

You shake your head at his words. Sliding the paper to the side, you ignore his request, choosing to focus on your work instead of giving in to his silly tactics. After a moment, you wonder if you’ll be getting another paper— instead, nothing happens; the sigh of relief you let out is almost comical, your body relaxing a bit as you allow yourself to wonder if he’s finally left.

That was your second mistake.

Because after a few minutes, another paper hits you. It’s another heart, and you find that you don’t need to open it this time, the message scrawled on top for easier access.

I’m sorry.

Another paper flies over your fortress.

I’m sorry.

Then, another.

Pls forgive me.

Then another. And another, and another, and another.

Pls, I hate making you mad. I feel so gross and sad rn. I seriously can’t go a day without you. I miss you sm, pls :(((

You feel like you’re under attack— the way he continues to throw paper after paper is rhythmic and almost impressive, the endless stream of hearts covering your keyboard and forcing you to sweep them to the side after seconds.

It’s useless to study. How can you, when Yeonjun keeps throwing his apologies at you? It’s stupid and childish and is enough for you to take your textbooks down, your jaw clenched and your eyes pointed in a sharp glare that has Yeonjun pausing in his actions.

There’s a small pile of hearts next to him.

Neither of you move— he’s frozen mid-throw, his eyes widening as though he can’t grasp the fact that you’re actually looking at him— even if it’s filled with rage and annoyance.

Slowly, the corners of his lips curl up— you can’t find it in you to react as he throws the paper in his hands, feeling the way it smacks right onto your forehead before it falls to the table.

Can I show u how sorry I am??

You don’t seem to think of the consequences as you reach for your bag in the seat next to you— devoid of anything except a few pencils and your hoodie— and throw it at him, watching the way he yelps in surprise, your bag spilling out it’s few contents all over the floor. The sound is enough to have the people around you glancing at your table, curious or angry at the sound of the ruckus.

You’re worked up and huffing as you watch Yeonjun scramble to gather the spilled contents of your bag, watching as he stutters out whispered apologies between his actions.

“Excuse me,” the hand on your shoulder is firm as you twist your head to look at the librarian, your expression falling at the realization of what you’ve just done.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

Whipping your head around, you meet eyes with a sheepish and guilty Yeonjun, gritting your teeth as he holds out your bag for you to take.

Wordlessly, you snatch it from him, shoving your computer and the rest of your items into it before you’re turning around to face the librarian; you whisper out a soft “I’m so sorry” as you bow in apology, waiting for her to leave before you’re facing Yeonjun again.

I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, he mouths to you, though you ignore it all as you choose to whack his shoulder with your very-full bag instead; the pained whimper he lets out has you gritting your teeth in irritation, watching the way he pouts up at you as he rubs his arm pathetically.

“Don’t pull this shit again,” you hiss out, storming off before he can get another word out.

There goes all his progress.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

WEDNESDAY

Today has been an oddly nice day.

It’s nice— too nice, you wonder, pondering what may be different enough to have you walking with a smile on your face, appreciating the beautiful weather in a light mood.

A guy your age is leaning against a tree up ahead. He holds a bouquet of roses, and you smile at the way he seems to be passing one out to every person that passes him. That’s so sweet, you think to yourself, and you can’t help the way your stomach twists in anticipation the moment his eyes meet yours.

“Would you like a rose?” he asks you, his blond hair shining under the sunlight as he sends you a bright smile— you don’t hesitate to say yes, taking the flower from him with a cute thank you!

The flower is in full bloom as you twirl it between your fingers absentmindedly. The smile on your face is seemingly permanent as you make your way to your favorite cafe, though as you think back to the interaction, you can’t help but wonder if you know that man from somewhere.

It isn’t until you stop at a crosswalk that you notice it— there’s a tag on the rose, and though you initially thought it was just a price tag, you realize that it’s something else; pausing before you cross the street, you take a moment to tilt your head and read it, feeling your jaw drop as your brain registers the words in disbelief.

Yeonjun says he’s sorry.

“What the fuck,” you mutter to yourself, ripping it off without hesitation and shoving it into your pocket— you definietly recognize the man from earlier, you realize— that was Hueningkai!

You roll your eyes at Yeonjun’s weak ploy to talk to you— you can’t help the way it leaves you irritated as you stand in line to order, trying your best to recite your regular order to the barista with a smile on your face, the man before you giving you a dimpled smile before he’s off to make it.

By the time you get your order, you’ve calmed down— you’re quick to exit and make your way back towards campus, using this small break between classes to study again. (without Yeonjun around, hopefully.)

Your fingers are absentminded as you trace over the printed sticker on the side of the cup that has your order printed on it, glancing down at the text before you take another sip.

Yeonjun is really sorry.

…What?

You were more unnerved than anything. The lengths Yeonjun had gone through to communicate almost concerned you, though all you could do at this point was rip the sticker off and shove it in your pocket, ignoring it like the other one. You wracked your mind for answers as you began to wonder if you had seen that barista anywhere else, and after a moment, you settled on the vague conclusion that you think you’ve seen him in Yeonjun’s frat house before.

He’s so annoying, you sigh to yourself, rubbing at your temples as you fear an upcoming headache.

You’re startled back to life at the sight of a puppy running up to you— you’re frowning at the sight, unsure of what to do as it stops right at your feet, jumping up on you and barking excitedly— almost like it recognized you— squinting, you observe the dog.

Oh god, you think to yourself, realizing with dread that you do recognize this damn dog.

“Matcha, who let you out,” you huff, leaning down to scoop the tiny dog into your arms— in the distance, you can see someone running in your direction, though you choose to ignore it as you notice Matcha’s brand new collar.

Yeonjun misses you more than anything.

The words are wrapped around his collar, leaving you to throw your head back and groan at the sight; the footsteps are much louder than before, and you’re looking forward again as you spot yet another familiar face.

“Beomgyu,” you sneer, shoving Matcha into his awaiting hands. All he can do is laugh sheepishly, muttering out what a coincidence! Petting Matcha, he pauses, giving you an expectant look that only leaves you confused.

“Could you forgive him?”

“Go away!” you say in return, weaving out of his way and practically running off to the library; you can hear Matcha barking at you, though you choose to ignore it as Beomgyu’s calls of your name fuel you further.

You feel out of breath by the time you finally enter the library, finding the nearest help desk and beginning to rummage through your bag for any books you need renewed— the librarian simply smiles at you patiently as he waits, adjusting his glasses before he quickly turns around to get something— by the time he’s back, you’ve laid out your books for him, thanking him quietly as you watch him renew them quickly.

When he slides them back towards you, you frown— there’s a bookmark on top of your small stack of books, laminated and shiny under the lights as you pick it up to get rid of the glare— reading it, you can already feel the need to tear it, though it seems as this cheeky worker is already one step ahead of you.

Yeonjun just wants to talk to you again.

Three ways to better communication in a relationship:

The glare you send the worker— Taehyun, his name tag reads— is lethal, though he doesn’t seem to be affected by it as he simply sends you an innocent smile. Without another word, you gather your books, shoving them into your bag as you turn to leave.

“Ignoring him won’t solve anything,” he calls out quietly, though you don’t seem to appreciate the advice by the way you don’t even bother to turn back and react. Instead, you walk right back out, storming home as you type on your phone furiously.

my baby :((

stop using others to relay messages damn it!!!

my baby :((

and don’t use matcha against me you loser!!!!!!

Through his end, Yeonjun is just happy that you’re texting him— though, the mean name is not much appreciated.

Choi Yeonjun.

can you pls let me talk to you instead?

You don’t bother opening the notification.

That was your third mistake.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

THURSDAY

Today has been relatively peaceful. You have yet to be bothered today— no Yeonjun, no Matcha, and certainly none of his friends.

Maybe because he was aware of your plans today; you did tell him a while ago about your reunion with one of your friends, always chatting his ear off about how excited you were to finally see her again—it slightly warms your heart to know that he actually listens to you.

Well. Most of the time.

“You’re fighting right now?” Tzuyu asks, leaning forward in her seat with wide eyes. You didn’t expect this sudden change of topic, but you can only nod grimly in response, watching as she sighs in dismay at your situation.

“Wow, you guys never fight— at least, not to this level,” she’s deep in thought over your relationship as she frowns, crossing her arms over her chest as she stares down at her empty plate— you both chose to forgo dessert, and now you wait patiently for your check.

“Well, what are you guys even fighting about?”

“It’s just—“ you’re cut off by your server placing the check in between the two of you, thanking him with a smile on your face before you’re freezing; you’re unsure of what to make of the plate that he places before you, stuttering out unintelligible sentences that you didn’t order… whatever this was.

“Free of charge,” the man says, before bowing politely and scurrying away; you’re barely able to get a word out before you huff in defeat, looking back at the treat in front of you as you take in Tzuyu’s amused laughter.

“What?” you ask, frowning as you watch her turn the plate towards you— you’re left a bit speechless by what you see, mouth falling open as your brain attempts to comprehend how you should react to this.

It’s dessert— well, more specifically, three full scoops of ice cream, the caramel drizzle and other toppings decorating it to make it look like a cat; more specifically, a sad cat. All along the plate, more caramel drizzle decorates it to form a sentence.

I miss you. Please, talk to me. YJ.

Your head snaps up in the direction the waiter went in; looking out the small window of the kitchen door, you spot none other than Yeonjun, his eyes widening before he’s ducking out of the way like a deer in headlights.

“How the fuck did he get back there?!” you cry out, running a hand down your face in disbelief— but no, one more glance back in his direction is enough to catch him peeking at you again, flinching in surprise before he’s ducking out of your sight once more.

“Who let him in there?” you hiss, placing your head in your hands as Tzuyu merely laughs; you ignore the way she begins to dig into the dessert after you express that you won’t touch it, humming happily that it was a sweet gesture.

A moment’s thought is able to remind you where you are— in Beomgyu’s older brother’s restaurant, of course.

Defeatedly, you open the checkbook to offer to pay— though the price has your eyes practically bulging out, reading and re-reading the strange excuse of a check this waiter has brought to you.

Your meal was free.

The only thing you read on the paper was a poor excuse of Yeonjun replacing the food items with “i miss you”s and “i’m sorry”s, the sight baffling you as Tzuyu turns the check towards her in curiosity.

“Interesting,” she hums, closing the checkbook before she’s fishing for tip money, “Are you sure you wanna lose a guy like him?”

You take a second to think her question through.

Yet another mistake on your part.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

FRIDAY

Remembering what happened today is enough to have your head hurting— so, you’ll keep it short.

You were working— working, minding your own business, prey to unsuspecting events— when it happened.

Fridays were always rush days. Maybe that’s why you didn’t think to pay attention to your surroundings, to the blasting music, the yell of your coworkers calling out drinks and names, or to the endless chatter of the customers around you.

You should have paid attention— maybe, if you did, you would’ve been able to spare yourself the embarrassment— another mistake of yours, if you will.

The break of music from the radio was not what caught your attention— radio hosts do it all the time, speaking in between songs with useless chatter as they find a song to play next— no, what did catch your attention, however, was the eerily familiar voice, and worse, the eerily familiar message he broadcasted all over your local station.

“This next song is called Seven,” he spoke, smooth, suave, and relaxing as the track rolled in quietly in the background, “a song about a man more than willing to show how devoted he is to his to his partner— ___, come home, the kids miss you— well, more like Matcha, but still.”

You could feel your coworkers freeze around you. You could feel their gazes slowly drift to you, could feel the way customers got a good look at the decorated name tag you once showed off proudly.

“Is— is he…?” your coworker whispered beside you, watching the way you caved into yourself in attempts to hide your nametag, “is he that frat boy you were talking about?”

“No.” you say, avoiding everyone’s gaze as you focus on making your drink instead, “No. That’s not him. This isn’t about me, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“___, I’ll keep waiting for you patiently. Have a good shift today.”

Christ!

Your coworkers could only laugh lightheartedly at his words— they found it cute, which was even worse for you, because all you could wonder was how the fuck he was able to get into the broadcast station— this time, you seriously couldn’t figure out any ties between him and the place.

“Looks like he won’t give up,” to say you were horrified at the way a customer told you this was an understatement, her eyes alight with amusement as she spoke to you with a tone so genuine you almost thought she was in on it— fuck, maybe she was— “if anything, you should turn him down soon before he goes too far.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” you breathed out, tired of these constant antics as you thought over her words, forced to go through the rest of your shift pretending as though Yeonjun hadn’t broadcasted his pleading message to the whole city— well, more like anyone who was listening to the local radio station willingly.

You feel like you’re on The Truman Show, or something.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

SATURDAY

You were scared to talk to Yeonjun.

Scared— why were you scared? You don’t know why, but you couldn’t bring yourself to send him a text message, pacing around your room like an idiot instead as you wondered what you would tell him.

Would you talk? Would you finally break up with him?

The way your stomach sank with dread at the mere thought of the second option was enough of an answer for you— no, you shouldn’t break up with him.

However, it was storming today— there was no way in hell you would be going outside to meet him in such weather, so you opted to psych yourself up to send him a text message asking to meet up instead.

You were pacing around your room again when you noticed it.

There’s a bright umbrella outside— shit, you recognize that umbrella, you realize with a heavy dread, walking up to your window and pulling your curtains open as you stare out in dismay.

Why the fuck is Yeonjun outside right now?

It’s perfect timing, the way his umbrella raises to show his figure; oh my god, you think to yourself, biting your lip as you take his expression in, he’s crying!

This was not your intention. You never meant to hurt Yeonjun like this, but you also were not ready to see him yet— so, with a slight pang in your heart, you shut the curtains again, leaving just enough of a crack to make sure that he’ll leave.

Instead, he stayed there. In true Yeonjun fashion, squinting up at your window in hopes that you’d at least tell him to go away. Instead, he watched as you peeked through the crack of the curtains, his heart fluttering slightly at the way you thought you were being discreet with your actions.

Slowly, Yeonjun turns his phone to you; there’s writing flashing by in his phone, though you have to squint your eyes and wait for the whole sentence to roll by to see what he’s trying to tell you now.

I know you don’t… want to see me… right now but I … seriously just need… to know what I … did wrong.

God. Fuck. This whole “ghosting” ordeal was harder than it should be when someone like Yeonjun was involved.

It’s been like… a week and you… still haven’t talked… to me.

Oh, the guilt is seriously eating you up right now. You weren’t supposed to ignore him for days on end, but each time Yeonjun reached out for you, you couldn’t control the way you ran away in return, still hurt by the things he didn’t even realize he did.

You’ve finally gotten a good grasp of his obliviousness.

I’m sorry… I love you… I love you… I love you…

Only three words are rolling by on his phone now. You think you’ve gotten the gist of what he’s trying to tell you as you sink to the floor, out of sight and exasperated as you reach for your phone to make a call.

“Hello?”

“Please come get Yeonjun. He’s outside my apartment in the freezing rain.”

“Uhm, let him in then?”

“I— I can’t,” you mutter sheepishly as you feel your face heating up, your stomach sinking as you hear Beomgyu scoffing on the other side of the line, “I don’t want to talk to him right now. Not like this.”

“Then I guess he’ll stay out in the freezing rain.”

“He’ll get sick!” you say, and it’s only now that you feel stupid for this push and pull you’ve created, “please. I’m begging you.”

“You need to talk to him.”

“I want to. I will.” you say, placing a hand on your forehead as you sigh, “Tomorrow.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

A pause. Then, you hear rustling, and the sounds of Beomgyu grumbling quietly to himself.

“I’ll go get him,” he says, and you can feel yourself sink further against the wall in relief, “you better not back out on your word, okay?”

“Okay.”

You hope you’re not making a mistake.

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

SUNDAY

This is awkward. You feel awkward. You probably look awkward, too.

Yeonjun, for once, looks just as awkward and tense before you. His whole body is rigid as he sits on your couch, feeling more like a stranger in your home than the man you’ve spent the past few months with, the way his eyes wander around making you feel like it’s his first time here.

“Yeonjun,” you sigh out, catching his attention as his eyes zero in on you immediately; you feel nervous under his gaze, unsure of what to say as your brain begins to stutter, your mouth opening and closing in hopes that a proper sentence will come out.

“What did I do wrong?” he cries out, snapping you out of your troubled reverie as your eyes meet his— they’re glossy, and you’re afraid he might just start crying again if you look away, “can we start there?”

“You— you seriously don’t know?” you ask, bewildered by his question as you sit back on your couch— Yeonjun simply shakes his head reverently in response, and you’re blinking owlishly at him as you stare at him in disbelief.

“We didn’t have any arguments before this,” he says, nibbling on his lip as he thinks back to the moment you yelled at him, tearing his arm off you as he attempted to keep you from running away, “You just snapped at me then disappeared— I, I want to know what I did wrong, at least.”

“Yeonjun you—“ you’re dragging a hand down your cheek as you clench your jaw, taking a second to breathe to not snap at him again, “that’s the problem, you’re just so— so oblivious, I seriously thought you’d be able to put two and two together by now!”

Oh, oh this is embarrassing; you should not be getting worked up right now, your hands immediately coming up to hide your face as you hear Yeonjun cooing out your name softly— he’s next to you at the speed of light, attempting to take your hands away as he quietly tells you to breathe in his stupid, calming voice.

“You’re always at those stupid parties, you stupid frat boy—“ you’re stuttering through your sentences, the heat in your face humiliating as you feel your emotions finally tumbling down, “and I know I told you I’m okay with it— I am, I really am— but what I’m not okay with is how fucking flirty you are!”

You can feel Yeonjun’s hands stiffen; slowly, his mouth drops in shock, his face beginning to pale as he realizes just why you’re mad at him.

“I’ve told you— time, and time again— that, that I don’t like when you feed into people like that, that you never reject advances and tell them that you have a fucking girlfriend,” you know he never means it in a harmful way. You know that, nine times out of ten, Yeonjun doesn’t even realize those advances are happening, but it’s always just as painful to watch, knowing that charming attitude and cheeky voice is exactly how he got you, “and it just makes me feel so… so stupid and jealous and unwanted!”

You feel out of breath by the time you finish. Though you remain silent and try to calm yourself, you instead begin to feel more anger festering inside you as you take in Yeonjun’s face, full of dread and realization as he begins to think back to how he was acting back at the frat party that caused this mess.

Yeonjun was used to people acting the way they did around him. It never fazed him, and most of the time he simply followed along because he found it fun. No, he never thought of having anyone else but you, you’re his everything— though, he does realize how inconsiderate he’s been of your feelings now.

“Baby, baby, I’m so sorry,” he says, his words genuine and filled with guilt as he cups your face gently, “I didn’t know.”

“Fuck!” Your response is unprecedented as you shake his hands off you, pushing him back and forcing him to lay across the couch as he looks up at you in surprise. He’s unable to do anything as he watches the way you throw your legs on each side of his waist, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him up as you sneer at him.

“That’s your problem, you just don’t know—!” pushing him back on the couch, he lets out a soft oof! unable to help the way his stomach swirls in anticipation of your next move, “You’re just too stupid, you don’t know anything unless someone spells it out for you!”

Shit. Yeonjun has never seen you like this, frustrated and restless as you shift above him, your eyes alight with rage as you begin tugging your hoodie over your head; his eyes widen comically at the action, shifting nervously under you as he realizes that oh, you’re not wearing a bra.

“You’ve seriously left me wondering if you’re even taking this relationship seriously, it’s ridiculous!” Yeonjun feels like he’s been left on autopilot as he lets you tug him up again; he’s sitting up, hands hovering precariously as you glare at him, the sight enough to have him gulping nervously.

“I— I do,” he stutters out, watching as you send him an accusing look, “I do, I do I do, I take you so seriously, and fuck, I haven’t been thinking of anyone but you all week.”

“Yeah?” you ask him, patronizing and unexpectedly mean as you look down at him, “You never fucking act like it.”

“Yes I do—!” he yells out, though it’s cut off by the way you sit down firmly in his lap, a hand threading into his hair and yanking at the roots as you tug his head back cruelly, “I’ve shown you this whole week just how much I think about you…”

Yeonjun is hard. Painfully so, and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get turned on so quickly— it’s enough to have you laughing breathily, tugging on his hair again and listening to the way he only lets out a high whine in response.

“What you’ve shown me this week,” you hiss, bringing him close to you, your lips grazing against his as you speak, “is that you’re a desperate bitch that doesn’t know how to be patient.”

“You were ignoring me,” he fights back, letting out a breathy wince at the way your grip tightens on his hair, “you’ve been so mean to me—!”

Yeonjun doesn’t get another word in on the matter. The way you bite his lip ruthlessly and sneak your tongue into his mouth has you feeling the way he practically turns to putty under you, his cheeks just as red as his lips as he gasps against your own, feeling the way you begin to grind against his cock without remorse.

“Me? I’ve been mean to you?” you wonder out loud, hands running down his chest before you’re tugging his shirt up; you don’t bother taking it off as it rests against his chest, leaning him back and running your hands over his skin as you take in the way his stomach twitches in response. “do you know how many people think they’ve actually got a chance with you, all because you refuse to use common sense and say, oh, I’ve got a girlfriend!”

Yeonjun shakes his head; there’s no way your words are true, especially when he’s literally obsessed with you. But of course, you’re always right— which is exactly why you’re fueled to rake your nails down his skin, leaving him to hiss and twitch at the feeling of your acrylics digging into his stomach and leaving bright, red scratch marks— acrylics he paid for because he thought they were pretty, the reminder only making his cock twitch pathetically.

“There’s no one in this world that has a chance with me but you,” Yeonjun insists, pouting at the way you only scoff at his words, “I’ve never done anything to fuel other people’s strange fantasies.”

“God, you’re stupid,” you say, and Yeonjun thinks he must’ve lost his mind from the way he can feel a whine building up in his throat, “and to think I found that endearing.”

“You’re so mean,” he pouts— though he’s quick to regret it, letting out a loud cry as you begin grinding against him, able to feel the warmth of your pussy through the thin shorts you wear, your breast bouncing from the way your body begins to move.

“You don’t like it?” You ask, tilting your head to watch as he merely shakes his head in response— all you can do is plant yourself to where you can feel his length pressed up against your slit, throbbing against you as you pout at him in false pity, “no you don’t like it, or no you do?”

“I— I…” he doesn’t know how to respond; it seems as though Yeonjun hasn’t figured out the response for himself, but you can feel it from the way his hips buck up into yours, stuttering and without rhythm as he remains defenseless under you.

“You do like it,” you say, mocking at the way he only whimpers from the feeling of your nails digging into his hips, “Feels nice to be on the receiving end, baby?”

Fuck. Fuck, oh fuck, this was strange and new and Yeonjun was definitely enjoying himself more than he thought he should, a melted pile of remorse and love as he pathetically waited for your next move, doe eyes staring up at you as he felt his mouth part, unable to say anything as he gave in to the mean look you sent him.

“Been waiting patiently for me, hmm?” you ask him, thinking back to his earlier words as you watch him nod eagerly in confirmation, “So you bothering me every day of the week was you being patient?”

“I just wanted to talk,” Yeonjun whines out, chest heaving at the way you begin rolling your hips against his, your rhythm firm and dangerous as he feels weak moans leaving him like a stream, “but you— you kept avoiding me, I wanted to get some confirmation that you didn’t break up with me that day…!”

“Yeah?” you mock him, your voice just as whiny and breathy as his as you lean down to him; placing your hands on his chest, you tilt your head, grinding your cunt against him in a way that has him panting and looking for someplace to grab onto, “and did you get your answer?”

Yeonjun doesn’t even think he registered what you said. All he knows is that the way you’re sitting on him is genuinely cruel, especially with the way he hasn’t felt your body against his in so long. His mind is muddled and he can feel himself losing control from the way his hips begin to buck up, his brain going blank except for the thought that he hasn’t felt you against him in what seems like ages, his body so pent up with frustration that he can’t help but chase after the slight pleasure you offer him.

Yeonjun’s mind has blanked out. You can see it in his face, the way it’s twisted with pleasure as he fails to respond to you, body bucking up into you so wildly that you have to steady yourself with two hands pressed firmly against his chest, your balance getting screwed over at his attempts to fuck up into you.

The feeling of your warm hands is enough to bring Yeonjun back, eyes widening in realization as his eyes meet yours, clouded with so much need that it has Yeonjun slowing his pace immediately.

“Fuck, fuck, wait,” he stutters out, eyes widening at the way your cunt is practically leaking onto him— he can feel it through the layers of clothes, “wait wait wait, I’m so— ah, please— so… sososo close, baby, please…!”

“Wait?” you echo, brows furrowing as he nods frantically in response, “thought you didn’t like waiting?”

“No, please, please,” he whimpers, though his hips don’t stop their mindless rutting into your warm cunt, “please, don’t wanna come like this, wanna be inside you.”

“No?” you repeat, the mocking tone of your voice making his eyes screw shut, “why don’t you stop then? It’s all up to you.”

Oh, of course he can stop— though, that doesn’t mean he will, your hips slowly grinding against his as you watch the way his mouth falls open, not a sound falling past it before his hips buck up into you wildly— slowly, you feel a warmth spread beneath you, Yeonjun’s eyes screwed tightly as tears begin to peek from the corners.

“Nooooo nonono, no, not like this,” he cried quietly to himself, ever the hypocrite as his hands fly to your waist, riding out his orgasm with loud, shameless moans.

“Oh, my baby,” you say, pouting at the way he apologizes to you under his breath, “Is that it? Are you done now?”

“No, not done,” he’s quick to respond despite his rattled state of mind, looking up at you through bleary eyes.

“No?” you hum, taking a moment to watch him carefully.

“No,” he repeats, breathless as his grip tightens on your hips— even through the sensitivity, you can still feel his hips roll up into yours, quiet whimpers and whines leaving him as he does so— though, he can’t find it in himself to stop, at least not with the way he has yet to feel you around him.

“God, this is so pitiful,” you say, frowning at the way Yeonjun struggles to sit up underneath you; you’re cupping his face as he looks up at you, teary eyes and flushed face unable to say anything as he simply leans into your touch— the way you coo softly has him pouting, and you can’t resist the urge to hover over his lips, teasing him with a smile as you brush over them, placing chaste kisses that only have him chasing you for more.

“What a good bitch,” you hiss, feeling the way his hands have wandered up to play with your breasts, obsessed as always as his fingers tug and circle your nipples, eager to feel them harden under his touch, “doesn’t matter how many times you cum, hmm? Just need to make me feel good?”

“Yes, yes yes yes,” he babbles, wincing and moaning at the way your lips have begun to wander along his neck, nipping and sucking and leaving enough marks that a person could spot from far away with ease; the way your teeth sink into his skin practically has him crying, and he can feel his heart pounding against his chest the moment he feels you pause, your nose nuzzling into the spot behind his ear, your breath ticklish on his skin as you laugh.

“Are you wearing my perfume, junie?” You mumble, hearing the way he can only whine in embarrassment; he doesn’t answer you, and you bite at his earlobe softly as you wait, silently demanding a response as his hands fall to your hips, gripping them pathetically as though his life depended on it.

“I missed you,” he repeats, the words making you roll your eyes as your hand finds itself in his hair; you’re tugging at it, tilting his head and exposing his neck to you as you begin to nose along the column, closing your eyes to confirm if this is really your scent, “couldn’t smell you on my clothes anymore, love your scent s’much, ah…”

His neck has always been sensitive; that’s exactly why you choose to focus on it so much, not leaving until it’s covered with your marks and his tears have run down them, his soft sniffles making you glance up as you take him in, overstimulated and a mess as he bites his lip in an attempt to quiet himself.

“Too much, baby?” You coo, running a hand through his hair and pushing it back comfortingly, watching as he shakes his head adamantly, his wide eyes shiny and tear-filled as he looks up at you.

“No,” he mumbles, wrapping his arms around you and tugging you towards him; his face is buried in your chest, and you can’t hold back the gasp you let out as his mouth immediately attaches itself to your breast, plump lips sucking at it as his tongue runs along it, messy and spit-filled as he looks back up at you, grinding you into him with weak whimpers, “want you to use me, you can do anything you want to me, just wanna please you.”

“Such a good boy for me, junie,” you say, his eyes fluttering close at your fond comment. “Are you gonna listen to me, for once?”

“I always listen to you,” he insists, and you feel irked by his words as you scoff.

“Like hell you do,” you sneer, easily angered as he shrinks down from your cold gaze, “Show me then— strip.”

Yeonjun is eager to listen, eager to please; you don’t think you’ve ever seen him get undressed so quickly, kicking off his pants and throwing his shirt off in some random direction as he looks up at you expectantly, his cock a mess and already beginning to harden as your eyes fall to it.

“Hard already?” You muse, watching the way his cheeks blush red at your comment. Your hand is teasing as you wrap your fingers around his length, your perfect nails shining under the light as you slowly begin to move up and down, the cum from his previous orgasm guiding your movements as he begins to twitch under you, crying softly at the overstimulation.

“Guess you weren’t lying,” you sigh out, finger swiping over his throbbing tip as you hear him yelp at the feeling, “just a cute body for me to use, hmm? You’re nothing but a dick for me to get myself off on?”

Yeonjun is mindlessly agreeing with you— your words are clearly affecting him, his cock leaking and throbbing in your hand, making a mess of it as his head falls back, throat displaying all the marks you left on him earlier like a trophy.

His head is snapping back up the moment you sink onto him. You’re warm, tight, and so fucking wet, his body jolting at the feeling of you clenching around him, taking him inch by inch as he feels the way your walls stretch to adjust to him.

“Fuck…” you hiss, your arousal practically dripping on him from how good he feels— “Yeonjun, shit.”

“Waiiittt, wait, oh god, no— don’t say my name like that, fuck,” Yeonjun begins moaning, your lips quirking into a smile as you watch his eyes screw shut, already knowing what’s coming from the way he holds onto you tighter, head buried into your chest as he tries to still your hips.

“Hmm? What’s wrong?” You ask, feigning innocence as you roll your hips into him, moaning dramatically as you do, “Oh, Yeonjun, Yeonjun— fuck, junie, you feel so good, feel so full…”

He’s shaking his head hopelessly; you know what you’re doing to him, and he feels pathetic by the way he loses his senses the more you sink onto him, his cock twitching in you uncontrollably as he warns you to stop, stop, stop before I…!

“This is embarrassing, Yeonjunie,” you pout, feeling the way a warmth spreads inside you the moment you sit on his hips snugly, feeling him bottomed out inside you as he attempts to muffle his sounds. His ears are bright red and he refuses to show you his face as he keeps you close to him, his arms still hugging you flush against him as you feel the valley of your breasts become wet with his tears.

“Why are you crying, hmm?” You ask him, looking down to see the way he still hides his face, “You’ve already come twice, shouldn’t you be happy? You’re so easy, Yeonjunie.”

Your words are degrading, your voice cold as continue to mock him— and though you pretend otherwise, you can feel the way he ruts his hips into you with every mean comment, clearly enjoying himself more than he lets on as he lets out a broken cry against your skin.

“Fuck, are you seriously getting off to this?” You snap, bored with pretending as though you don’t feel your boyfriend clinging to you tighter as you degrade him, “You’re such a fucking slut— you get off to anything, don’t you?”

The way you pull him away from your skin is sudden and rough, a soft yelp leaving him as he’s finally forced to face you, eyes fluttering open and meeting your own, your face twisted in annoyance as you look down at him.

“Acting like a bitch in heat, already came twice from nothing,” you grit, rolling your hips against his as you watch the way his eyes roll back— your other hand comes up to grip his cheeks, digging into the flesh and squeezing them together as he pouts at you, eyes welling with tears as he feels your nails dig into him.

“Don’t you feel bad? How am I supposed to get myself off if you can barely keep your dick up for more than a minute?” Your eyes darken at the way he simply lets out a pathetic sorry, ‘m so sorry baby, “What? I don’t think I heard you right.”

Your pussy feels so good around him; Yeonjun is barely able to think straight from the way you’ve begun to bounce on his cock ruthlessly, the sight of your breasts bouncing before him hypnotizing as you jerk his head back up to look at you, towering over him and demanding as you slow your hips to a mean grind.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he whines out, his words incoherent and mushed together as you keep a hold of his face, listening as you hiss out for what? “‘M sorry for being so impatient— ah, ah, please— ngh, sorry for coming too soon, sorry for…”

He doesn’t finish his sentence. He can’t find the ability to, distracted by the way your sounds have picked up, your fingers rubbing circles on your clit as you continue to use his cock like a toy; his cheeks feel sore as he stares at you with wide eyes, watching your face contort with pleasure, your rhythm become sloppy as you feel your legs getting tired.

You didn’t think Yeonjun would pick up on it; without any warning, you find your back colliding against the couch, your eyes widening as you feel Yeonjun still settled in between your legs, cock still nestled deeply inside you; he’s still a pouty mess above you, hands gripping onto your hips as he begins rutting into you, his thrusts rough and out of control as he takes in your figure hungrily.

“Sorry for making you feel unwanted,” Yeonjun babbles, feeling you throw your arms around his neck from the sudden confession, bringing him in close as you feel his face hover above your own, “I only want you, want you to use me and mark me so others know who I belong to, I’m all yours baby— please, please please please tell me you’re close, wanna feel you come on my cock, wanna make you feel good, missed you, missed this pussy, fuck, mmh, ugh, feel so good, so good, soso good, please, baby—“

Yeonjun thinks you’re something of an aphrodisiac to him; at least, that must be the explanation if he’s able to cum the moment he feels you unravel around him, unrestrained and addicted to the feeling as he listens to your pretty sounds, practically melting as he hears your voice purring under him— so good, fuck, you’re all mine Yeonjunie, all mine…

You don’t think you’ve ever felt Yeonjun cum this much— his cock continues to twitch and release inside you even after you’ve come down from your high, the man above you burying his head into the crook of your neck as he cries softly at the feeling, unable to help the way his hips buck forward to ride out his orgasm.

This shift in dynamic is new— but it’s addicting, and you find yourself thoroughly enjoying the way Yeonjun clings to you, his head hazy and needy for your comfort as he lays on top of you, uncaring of how heavy he may be as he wraps his strong arms around you.

Missed you s’much baby, missed you, please don’t do that again, you could hear him mutter into your skin, a bit out of it as he peppered kisses along your collarbones.

“Alright, alright, I won’t,” you breathe out, running your fingers through his hair soothingly as he leans into your touch like a cat, “I’m sorry I kept running away from you.”

“But then again,” you trail off, tightening your grip on his hair teasingly, feeling the way he immediately whines softly, “you should’ve given me space when I asked you to. It was kinda cute, but don’t do that again— okay?”

“Okay. Of course. Whatever you say,” his response is immediate, not an ounce of hesitation as he stares at you with eyes shining with devotion. After a second, his lips part, and he’s hovering over you again as he looks down at you in wonder.

“Does that mean we’re boyfriend-girlfriend again?”

You laugh.

“You idiot,” you coo, placing a soft kiss on his lips, unable to control your laugh as you do, “We didn’t stop being boyfriend-girlfriend. I was just mad at you.”

“Hmm. Then, can I eat you out?” His words have you freezing, looking at him in bewilderment as he simply smiles at you sheepishly, “To like. Show you how sorry I am.”

A pause.

“…And, because I really missed eating you out.”

You sigh— and try not to show how eager you are as you nod softly. Yeonjun however, is shameless as he immediately pulls out, hissing softly at the feeling before he’s sinking to his stomach— you’re gulping at the sight.

“You’re insatiable.” Your comment doesn’t faze him— if anything, it makes him smile, his pretty eyes staring at you with enough adoration and love that you’re squirming slightly under him.

“For you, yeah.”

-ˏˋ♡ˊˎ-

On Monday, the sight of Yeonjun on campus is enough to have you spinning on your heels and running in the opposite direction. He wears nothing but a thin tank top, wondering why you’re yelling at him to cover up the moment he answers your phone call.

“Why? It’s hot outside— …and, like, I wanna show everyone who I belong to.”

(You refuse to stand by his side until he covers up—though, you can’t ignore the way his words send butterflies through your stomach.)

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt angst #txt fluff #yeonjun x reader #yeonjun x you #yeonjun x y/n #yeonjun ff #yeonjun imagines #yeonjun oneshot #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #yeonjun smut #sub yeonjun #sub txt

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novy2sirius · 4 months ago

Text

astro notes volume nine

༊࿐ gemini’s often get hated on because a lot of people hate themselves but don’t realize it. gemini’s are mirrors. they try to relate to you as much as possible. this is also why they’re so charming. they match people’s vibes. long term though people tend to dislike them since they don’t wanna meet themselves/be around people like them. this isn’t always the case of course. when low vibrational there is definitely gemini’s that are fake since the sign is associated with gossip. there is times when they will be nice to your face and then talk bad about you behind your back. however, high vibrational ones put their energy toward their interests and don’t gossip, but instead have better communication skills and are direct with people

༊࿐ aquarius’ are probably the most misunderstood sign. every one i’ve met has just had a chaotic upbringing and because of this they have lots of chaos going on their mind sometimes. they don’t always know how to express themselves perfectly as they’re the opposite sign of leo, so they can come off as cold and insensitive. i’ve actually found often times they don’t even truly know when they’re being insensitive though until they’ve been called out by someone and then (if they’re evolved) they do try and correct this if they know they’ve hurt someone, so in other words it’s not that they don’t care about you, it’s that they can be quite literally unaware due to their upbringing and them being raised in a “cold” household. i would say especially aquarius moons though

༊࿐ moon square mars can indicate what your soul truly wants to do in life doesn’t always align with your actions and it may take some time for you to make changes in your life or change who you are as a person. for these people change is harder than it is for others since the moon is associated with comfortability, squares create obstacles, and mars is where we take action they want to stay in their comfort zone and can lack motivation at times depending on where they happen to be at in life. people with this aspect should force themselves to do things they don’t want to in order to try and work through this square

༊࿐ venus and the ascendant are great placements to check for fashion, but if you want more info about fashion you can also check the house of your neptune as it is the higher octave of venus. the sign in neptune doesn’t change often, so it won’t be telling, but the house can be helpful! for example, neptune in the 10h could indicate looking better in classy clothes, professional clothes, brown clothes, or darker colored clothing

༊࿐ jupiter is the planet of ease, so yes it can show things that come to us with ease, but it can also show areas where we’re lazy because jupiter discusses the areas we haven’t had to ever work for. for example, jupiter in the 5h could indicate being too lazy to have any hobbies that are productive and just enjoying watching netflix, jupiter in the 4h could indicate being too lazy to leave the house and just being a huge homebody, etc

༊࿐ your 4th house ruler can tell the type of things that you inherit from your family members. this doesn’t just include hereditary things, but also things we have in common with our family that we’ve learnt as children and taken into adulthood. for example, often those with their 4th house ruler in the 7th house act a lot like their parents do in their own relationships once they start dating or genetically it could mean having similar beauty to one of your parents (usually the mother)

༊࿐ your 8th house profection year is at 19 years old which is why we hear most people say that 19 is a really hard age. it’s a very transformational time in your life for multiple reasons. 19 is also the number of negative karma in numerology, so it will especially be a struggle if you’ve got a lot of unresolved karma that you’re carrying with you. it can be even worse if you’re a gemini or cancer ascendant because it will also be a saturn year for you on top of it being an 8h year. for profection charts everyone will have the same house years, but not planets in each year

༊࿐ the part of fortune can show what type of luck we attract at our worst moments (when we need it most). this is different than jupiter representing ways in our life we get lucky in general. for example, an aries part of fortune can indicate getting what you want by being direct/assertive with people or getting really lucky during super dangerous moments when you’ve could’ve literally died. i know someone with their part of fortune in the 10th house who didn’t go to college and basically lounged around at 18-19 doing nothing with their life, but then at 20 created an online business and got really lucky because it happened to blow up on tiktok. they were at the worst point in their life before their company blew up though, so as you can see part of fortune is more about major lucky events that happen right after you’re at a low point in life

— © novy2sirius don’t copy my work !

#astrology #astrology blog #astrology chart #birth chart #astrology community #astro community #astrology notes #numerology #numerology blog #astrology observations

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lovebugism · 7 months ago

Note

hey bug 🫶🏻 “cant stand that they're ignoring them” maybe r and Steve work together and he's been extra annoying lately. So r decides to ignore him. But he's only acting like a fool because he's in love 🥺

this fic ended up taking a life of it's own, so it's a wee bit different from your request, but i hope you like it anon!! — the one where you and steve are the personification of the "idiots in love" trope (friends to lovers, 1.5k)

Steve hears you before he sees you. A pair of whispers float down the windowless corridor of Family Video, sounding much more obvious in the otherwise silent store. He pauses mid-stride, with his fingers frozen on the buttons of his vest. His ears strain to listen. They find your familiar voice with little effort.

“—I can’t ‘just ask him out,’ Rob. It’s not that easy. I’m way too chicken shit.”

“Well, the worst he could say is no,” Robin attempts to assure you, voice deep and gritty and barely a whisper.

“Yeah, actually,” you huff, horrified. “That’s absolutely the worst thing he could say.”

“Except, he won’t because he’s not an idiot,” she argues.There’s a brief and stagnant pause, a fleeting moment of silent communication, until Robin exhales a heavy sigh. “Okay, he is a little bit of an idiot— but he’s an idiot that’s been in love with you for two years, so… He’s not stupid enough to turn you down.”

Distantly curious and very boyishly heartbroken, Steve decides to make himself known. He plasters a lopsided smile on his plush mouth, only slightly forced, to compensate for his bleeding heart. “What are you guys talkin’ about, huh?” he wonders, knowingly.

Your head snaps over your shoulder, eyes wide with horror. “Nothing,” you blurt, too quickly to be convincing.

Robin is not as nonchalant as you are. Totally unable to be casual, she says the first lie that comes to mind. “Eddie Munson,” she answers in a feeble attempt to cover your ass.

Steve’s forced laughter fills the empty store. Robin cowers at the glare you give her and musters a wavering smile.

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?” Steve echoes, still chuckling. He folds his arms over the countertop across from you, biceps golden and strained against the sleeves of his polo. His smile is even prettier up close, but it hurts a little ‘cause he’s laughing at you. “You? Have a crush on Eddie ‘The Freak’ Munson? There’s no way!”

You’d tell him there really was no way if he wasn’t being such an asshole about it. You thought you’d been caught for a moment — thought surely Steve would know that you were talking about him — but he’s a bigger idiot than you gave him credit for, turns out.

“It’s not that funny, Steve,” you squint.

He hums a teasing I don’t know type of sound and clicks his tongue against his teeth. “It is a little bit funny. I mean— Munson’s a total dumbass.”

You bite back a knowing smirk. “Well, I happen to like that about him,” you argue, leaning into the stupid joke. It’s easier to lie when it feels more like you’re talking about the quote-unquote dumbass in front of you.

“Well, you’d be the first,” Steve scoffs. His fake smile trembles at the edges when it gets harder to keep his guard up. “So, like, what now? Are you guys gonna be like… boyfriend-girlfriend or…?”

You meet his teasing smirk with a flat face. “You’re so annoying.”

“Have you guys kissed yet?” Steve pries, like he’s trying to break his own heart. “Or are you too scared of catchin’ his cooties?”

You roll your eyes and turn away, taking a fresh stack of tapes with you. Steve, assuming your silence is his answer, inhales a cartoonish gasp and follows behind you. “Holy shit, you have! Was it the worst? I mean, I’m assuming it was ‘cause… Eddie’s only ever had experience with the back of his hand, so… It must’ve been awful.”

His sarcasm is just investigative journalism, really. He wants to know what’s happened between you and the town freak — how far deep you’re in with Eddie and how much of a shot he’s got left with you.

“I’m not entertaining this,” you lilt and beeline for the Romantic Comedy section.

Steve follows close behind. “Why not?” he presses over your shoulder, towering over you as you slide the tapes into their designated spots. “I know Munson better than most people, you know? So maybe I can put in a good word for you or something—”

“Not necessary,” you deadpan.

He keeps on going. Digging the hole, as it were. “I could talk you up a bit. Get some top-secret info on his big fat crush on you—”

Your heart twists with every word out of his mouth. Not because he’s teasing you, but because you thought maybe, maybe, Steve might’ve liked you back. But now it feels like you just made all that up in your head. Because if he liked you like you thought he did, he wouldn’t be trying to set you up with someone else.

“—Help make it official and everything.”

“I don’t have a crush on Eddie,” you blurt before you mean to.

Steve’s rambling ceases. He feels immediate relief first, then palpable confusion right after. “…What?”

“I have a crush on you, you idiot,” you grouse, shoving the leftover tapes into his chest and storming off towards the breakroom.

Steve stands frozen in place while you leave, with a stack of VHSs held haphazardly in his arms. Wide-eyed and slightly embarrassed, he watches you disappear around the corner of the hallway. His gaze flits to Robin then, who tries to look busy on the computer, but really she’s just clicking at random spots on the screen.

“Well, I totally fucked that up, didn’t I?” he wonders dryly.

“Sorry,” the brunette grimaces. “That was kinda my fault— No one ever taught me how to be casual, so now I kinda… freak out when I have to be normal.”

Steve scoffs. That much was evident to him a long time ago.

He stalks into the break room sometime later — tail between his legs, heart in his throat. The old door squeaks open and shut again, a harsh sound in the deafening quiet. If you notice his presence, you make no effort to show it. Or look at him. Or even acknowledge his existence.

Steve knows he doesn’t deserve either.

“Hey…” he starts softly, voice wavering.

“Don’t,” you interject, much harsher than you intended, with your back still facing him. You stand at the counter and stick clearance stickers on tapes that aren’t selling well as an excuse to busy your anxious hands. “Don’t say anything, okay? Just… let me be an idiot in peace.”

Steve chuckles under his breath. “I don’t think you’re an idiot.”

You flash him a glare over your shoulder.

“I’m the dumbass in this equation, alright?” the boy assures and stands at your side. He keeps a few unsure inches between the two of you, just in case he’s totally screwed everything up. “I mean, seriously. I can’t keep my mouth shut for shit.”

You scoff a faint laugh that you try to keep hidden.

An absentminded smile tugs unknowingly at his lips. Steve watches you with an unwavering stare made of melted honey as he confesses, “When Robin said you had a thing for Eddie, I just… My heart fell to my ass, you know? And then everything just started building up like vomit, and I started spitting it all out before I even realized…”

Your face screws. “Jeez…”

“Sorry,” Steve grimaces. “Gross metaphor.”

“I just don’t want things to change between us,” you admit distantly, gaze averted as you smooth a 20% off sticker over Class of Nuke ‘Em High. “I don’t want things to be weird now.”

“Things aren’t weird,” Steve reassures with a quiet chuckle.

You flash him a hopeful glance, eyes twinkling beneath your lashes. “So we can still be friends?”

“Of course,” the boy scoffs. “Who else am I gonna run to when Robin’s annoying the shit outta me?”

You try hard to bite back the smile tugging at your lips, but Steve makes it extremely difficult. “Right,” you nod, caging your beam between your teeth.

“But… you know…” Steve starts, slow and vague, as he props an elbow over the countertop. A cheeky smirk sits crooked on his mouth. “I do have it on good authority that—”

“Please don’t bring up Eddie again,” you plead jokingly.

“No. I was— I was gonna say that the guy, you know, that you wanted to ask out tonight or whatever…” the boy trails off, going suddenly shy as he averts his gaze, scruffy cheeks flaring pink. “I was just gonna say that he definitely wouldn’t say no.”

Your chest warms. “Oh…”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “He’s had a crush on you for, like, two whole years now, so… He’s not stupid enough to turn you down.”

“Is that so?” you question with a teasing lilt, turning to face him fully. You catch his eyes falling to your mouth, for no more than a flicker of a moment, and you smirk.

“How ‘bout Benny’s Burgers?” he questions, voice low and honeyed and full of yearning. The proximity’s got his head spinning. “Tomorrow night? Six o’clock?”

“Sounds good,” you hum, trying to play it as cool as he is now.

Steve nods with a similar casualness, then swipes a golden hand through his hair when a chestnut strand falls over his forehead. “Good,” is all he says in response — lest he say more and his voice break with excitement.

You wait until the door clicks shut behind him to squeal to yourself like a teenage girl.

#published by bug #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #st drabbles #stevie drabble

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ooogaboogabeepbop · 1 year ago

Text

The Ball

(Image is NOT mine, it’s from Kate Kotova’s YouTube Community.)

Astarion x F!reader

Word count: A LOOOTTT

First time writing so please give any constructive criticism. Tell me if Astarion is out of character or whatnot. Here I wanted him to be pretty frustrated so he’s rougher than usual. PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS.

Summary: You were getting ready for a ball until Astarion randomly fucks you into oblivion.

Warnings: use of gross words, cervix fucking, VERY rough sex, extreme discomfort, neediness, blood, ruined makeup, anger, cnc, pain, tears, ripping of clothing, weird inconsistent pov, scent, breeding kink, cringe writing, past trauma, voyerism, harsh choking, lots of eye rolling, short sentences, regret

——————-

The edge of the drawer dug into your ribs harshly and the pain was becoming intolerable. Your palms flat against the waxed wood, pushing against the weight behind you. You winced when the figure behind pressed harder into you, being far from comfortable. It was like talking to a brick wall when you opened your mouth to speak. He was stuck in a deep trance involving your scent, and the unsteady beating of your heart. All he could hear was the hammering of the pulse and you smelled and looked absolutely amazing. Beyond amazing. Astounding. The way your dress fitted you perfectly. Breasts threaten to burst out of the dress, almost overflowing from the top. Your cleavage being the most prominent part of your whole get up, other than the accessories. The dress was white with laces on the rim surrounding your breasts, and on the end of your clothing as well. The outfit shimmered and was made to stand out from the others in the ball. The jewelry was what really stole the show though, dangle earrings, waist chain over the fancy fabric, bracelet, and a pearled necklace. You were adorned head to toe, your beauty would stun the crowd. Yet Astarion has you here, secured in his grip. It’s like he didn’t want anyone to see you in such a glamorous outfit. Someone could steal you away. It has been a while since Astarion initiated such intimate touching. With his view on sex tainted, you withheld from being inappropriate in any way. Worried about scaring him away, or reminding him of anything unpleasant. You stuck to loving words and affections that he so eagerly accepted and appreciated. The man was madly in love, and you, yourself. You showered him in so much care that it perplexed him. He only imagined or dreamed of being looked out for during years of hell, and never thought that it would actually come to fruition.

His nose and lips firmly pressed against your neck, providing soft kisses here and there. Cold breath sends shivers through your body. It was like a chilly winter breeze, making your hair stand. The kisses were sloppy, leaving small trails of saliva up and down your throat. You had an expensive perfume on, a bitter flavor to the tongue that he did not seem to mind. Too engrossed in this moment to care, wanting to feel and taste more. Maybe he liked the combination of the perfume and the flavor of your skin. Grabbing the arm that was locked around your waist, you squeeze, giving him a small warning to stop. The ball had already started, he promised to take you out dancing and flaunt your beauty to everyone there and show that you were his. It appears he regretted this decision. You were excited to sway and spin, to be close to him and your companions. You longed to see the others and the others wanted to see you too. You wanted to see the lights and the decorations. To see just how fancy the place was.

“I want to greet everyone.” You say, with his arms still locked around you. You tried excusing yourself to not remind him of ugly recollections. Trying not to have him cringe in disgust at any possible moment. Even with all of his confessions, he still held 200 years of secrets and uncomfortable experience that he was not willing to share. His coldness migrated behind your ear, hearing his sharp inhale. Very touchy this evening. What has him so worked up? Was he okay?

“They will see you soon enough, my love. Be patient.” He assured whilst rubbing his face against you, groaning, trying to lock in all of your musk mixed with perfume. He was ravenous. Mouth agape. A strong hand traced your left arm all the way up to your shoulder, and flipped the few wisps of your hair to the other side. Kisses now traced your jaw. Lips dry and chapped, moisture gone from the smooches. You could see the white curls come into view. Body flush against yours like a mold. Pale hands gripping your waist harshly and angling them to have the curve of your ass on his groin. “You look like an absolute treat tonight.” You could feel how each roughened finger dug deep to the point of almost hurting. Oh how you loved this. You missed his touch. Whether it be soft or hard, you still managed to enjoy yourself. Every movement made warmth course through you. Unexpectedly, he pricked your skin with one singular fang and licked the sweet red bead that came out with a sigh. Driving him crazy. Cool tongue teasing the sharp pain.

You grabbed the curls and ripped his lips off you.

“How about you be patient?” Your grip was firm, hurting his sensitive scalp. He hissed and even dared to flashed his fangs at you.

“You are hurting me.” You say bitterly. He presses less of his weight against you, letting you finally breathe better. But still being sandwiched between him and the drawer caused a sting.

“Still hurting me…”

He reluctantly pulls back, not much, but enough to keep the edge of the drawer from biting at your skin.

“I am starving—“ Words nothing but a whisper.

“I can tell.”

“Well be a dear, and give me just one bite?” He asked with honeyed words and puppy eyes.

“It’s never just one bite with you, Star.”

His hands roamed your body through your white dress, pawing at your breast, then down in between your thighs. The dress being an annoying obstacle.

“Oh how I missed you.” He sighs. You giggle at his words while you twirl a strand in your finger. It has not been long at all. He was quite literally in the other room while you did your makeup. And before that, both of you organized and planned your outfits for the day of the party together. You look over your shoulder with a smirk and a raised brow.

“Star, I was simply getting ready for the ball. I won’t take much longer.” You take a glimpse at his attire. All white, matching yours. The turtle neck, the colors, the swirls and patterns of his suit were all beautiful. Just like him. The shoulder pads that pronounced his shoulders. And his broad chest. You wanted to run your hands up and down his muscular figure but he firmly held you locked in place. He leaned into you again, though not as hard as before, your back arching to accommodate his body. Grinding on your bum. Noticing just how steel hard he was, your knees shook and your heels almost gave out.

“One bite? It won’t take long, love.” The man was hungry despite being fed the day before.

“Yes.” He immediately dives in and pierces your jugular. Fangs cause a sharp sting that makes you flinch. He will feed, then the two of you can finally go to the ball. Not wanting to suck you dry, he took shallow gulps. A moan rumbled from his chest and it vibrated through you. Astarion looked so hot with his composure uncharacteristically broken. The blood dribbling from the puncture being the sweetest he's ever savored. It was like some form of drug. Astarion’s favorite medicine. Faint whines of his satisfaction adding to the wetness below. You could see his brows knit together in concentration from the corner of your eye. Savoring you. He continued to rub your cunt through your dress while your hips circled to increase the pace that was set. He was too distracted to notice the teasingly slow speed of his fingers. Or maybe not. Perhaps he was deliberately trying to drive you insane. The friction of your panties and dress mixed with his talented digits made your clit throb. Your hand pushed his down, trying to create more traction to satisfy your need. Your hips still managed to gyrate even under his hold, rubbing right up on his erection. You moved faster against him, earning a whine from your vampire's throat. The hard rod pressed to your bum had you yearning for more. He kept moaning. Large pale hands traveled up to the very start of your dress and roughly pulled down, ripping the clothing and bra with it. The initial sound of the rippage filling the room with its sheer force. You shrieked as your tits suddenly jumped out of its confinements. Bouncing from its vicious release. Soft and supple skin, round and pretty nipples. Your outfit is in complete tatters.

“Astarion!” You shouted. Visibly upset. Such a beautiful dress put to waste. You waited months for this dress to be tailored, for its patterns and shimmers to be suited into it. So happy to try it on, so happy the way it hugged your curves when you got your hands on it. You attempted to turn to scold the ever living shit out of him but he held you in place with his strength. “Ugh!” You leered down at the irreversible mess and felt your face grow hot with rage. Then you looked into the mirror at the sight. Your nipples out in the open. How you wished to see him behind you, to see the dark and lustful red eyes looking deep into yours. What's gotten him so wild? Shifting his gaze towards your tits through the mirror, he moaned at the view of you. Quickly moving his palms onto your plump flesh; his big hands dwarfing both mounds. Astarion squeezed and played to his heart's desire and all you did was watch. Pliant skin caving and yielding. You were angry, livid, exasperated but… when was the last time he’s sought you out to touch you so sensually? When was the last time he felt okay with pleasure? You would put your anger aside, albeit begrudgingly, for this rare occasion. You were gonna give him hell afterwards though. Have him pay for the dress AGAIN and some complaining. It felt amazing, having him play, grope, and gently dig his fingers in. Savoring you. Passionately massaging them. You were upset. So upset. But you loved the touch. He was disorganized and chaotic which was so uncommon of him. Eventually, once you’ve calmed, your hands combine with his large ones, joining in on the fun. Then you realized something. The door to the room was open. Your head swirled to its direction and you were able to hear the distant chatter. Terror took a hold of you.

“Star. Stop. They will see.” Your concerns meant nothing to him though even when you pushed. He was too lost in you to even care. A huff was his only response. His fangs soon left you and he raised his head to nip at your ear. The blood from the wound seeped into your pearled necklace.

“I am being serious.” He grabbed your face, the skin indenting in his strong grip, and turned it enough to give you a searing kiss. The smooch was slippery from the gloss and the lipstick stained him, mixing with the blood he took from you. You sighed at the way his lips pressed upon yours. He parted his lips and snaked his tongue in your mouth, drawing an obscene moan as you unhinged your jaw for him. The blend of lipstick, gloss, blood, and the perfume he kissed off was rather tart. You opened your eyes and looked into the mirror. You looked so lewd. Both of you panted into the kiss. His left hand still played with your breast. His right hand grabbed yours and placed it flat against the wood, fingers interlocking. Astarion abandoned your mouth and licked long strides up your neck, cleaning the remaining blood then proceeded to give more pecks to it.

“What is this all about, Star?”

“I simply crave you little love. Is that so bad?”

“You ruined my dress. It was so glamorous…I waited months for this you damned bastard.”

“I’ll have another one made, my treasure.” He did not seem phased by your anger. The glam clothing was being pulled and balled up, enough to show your plush thighs. Wearing stockings and lingerie underneath. You half expected to fuck, just not so early.

“My, my. What’s this all about, dear?” He repeated your question from earlier as nimble fingers ran along the stockings. You blushed deeply at his words. Hands fixed on your butt. Delicately rubbing.

“Astarion, the door. Least close the door.” He pushed your face against the drawer, and raised the rest of your dress, showing your pretty ass. The fabric laid right above your hips. He slapped it hard. Another one came after that with full force. The sting was so intense tears began to form. No, you were not going to cry with how much effort you put into your makeup. He grumbled at your request.

“Not a chance. Where else will I get my warmth from? Karlach? Lae’zel?” He tsked. Red marks adorned your bum now from the manhandling. Blood rushing and heating the stinging flesh.

The warmth radiating onto his icy palms pleased him as it made a nice contrast. “You know, It gets quite cold being undead, darling.” Pouting as he feigned sadness.

“I will still be here once you come back. It's just mere feets away! Plus I'm sure Karlach wouldn't mind sharing her never ending heat.”

“Ah, but that would be no fun. Truthfully, the possible thrill of being caught excites me to no end…and I believe it does the very same to you too, darling.” He said, slipping the panties to the side to expose you. “I can tell just by your heartbeat.” He murmured. You purred when his rough thumb slithered up and down your wet slit. You sway your waist to taunt his desire. Without warning, he soon rooted two digits deep inside to prepare you to fuck hard. The sudden intrusion caused you to bite your lip. He grazed and memorized each ridge of your soggy cunt, especially the spongy part. You grinded in tandem to his fingers but it wasn’t enough.

“Then please, hurry up.” you whimper. He hummed.

“Since you asked nicely.” He caressed the bud halfheartedly. Swiftly he lost interest then pulled his fingers out. You could hear the belt buckle and his pants unfasten.

He slid all the way into your gummy walls with a loud hiss. You felt incredibly full, so stretched out and already worn from his dick. Cunt squeezing and contracting, trying to adjust to the fullness. You were so overwhelmed that it made you dizzy. Your pussy ravenously swallowed his thick dick which was not helping with your lightheadedness. The tip of his cock snuggling your cervix, causing your knees to weaken.Good thing he was holding you up. There was an impossibly deep, deep want inside your walls that set you ablaze. The feeling so intense your legs wobbled more. The desire was gut wrenching, so powerful and desperately needed his cock. He was fully sheathed but it was not enough. You needed him to move, drag and stroke himself along slick walls. Your clit throbbed. Placing your fingers onto the bundle of nerves you spun quick circles that briefly had your eyes roll. You couldn’t wait anymore and began to throw yourself back on him, forcing a garbled moan out of him. Both of you needed to get this over with fast. Cursing yourself for falling into your own desires as easily as he did. All he had to do was close the door but no. He loves risks and this situation made his dick painfully hard for him. What is pleasure without a little pain? You imagined him saying. He observed you like a hawk, watching you fuck yourself. Hearing him gulp then heave faster. His mouth was open, curls misplaced (from his usual hairdo), and brows knitted together again… A deafening laughter came from the halls when you began to panic. You stopped to peer at the cracked open door. He tightly grabbed onto your waist and pressed his thumbs into your back dimples, treating them as thumb holders. The first thrust was hard. You were caught off guard when your body lunged forward, causing objects to fall from the desk you leaned on. The laughing paused. Then the next one was even harder. He barely even started and tears began to sting in your eyes. His hair now falling towards his face, ruining his perfect pomade. Each movement he made, his locks swiftly followed. You felt the way his cock hauled to and fro. He knew how tight and warm you were but it always left him in shambles. Your walls clenched, subduing his bulging veins, and molding his dick on each thrust. He wanted to cum. He wanted to be deeper. He wanted to be one with you. Anxiety was through the roof but, thankfully, the people accompanying the halls continued with their conversation. All your attention was on the door where all the sounds originated from. The pace changed as you tried to listen for any footsteps.

Then all of a sudden he trembled and went stiff. He placed his chest against you for leverage. Lowering his head, listening how each breath was a struggle for him. You could see his wet curls in your peripheral vision. You turned your head to look.

“What’s wrong? Are you okay?” You asked with genuine fear in your heart. Endless questions began to flood in your head. What if he didn’t want it? What if he regretted this decision? What if a bad memory was prompted? Was he disgusted by the thoughts of long ago?

“I’m close.” He choked out, “I need you to come first.” You found yourself relieved that he wasn’t uncomfortable. He was far from it. He withheld his own pleasure though, choosing to serve you before anything else. Being used to lifelong servitude and to pleasing others, it was only natural to him. This was going to change eventually. Astarion was walking on a thin line and quickly losing his balance. It took all his will and power just not to cum deep in your womb. He was right on the edge, so close all he needed was a push. You whined and wiggled your hips.

“Do not move.” He ordered, cock violently twitching inside you and mouth pulled into a snarl.

“Just cum!” You could see his head shake from the corner of your vision, “please!” You lifted your face from the drawer and held onto the wood the best you could. Your hips snapped back into him. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as if it pained him.

“Please, please, please, please!” You continued to beg. He was seconds from bursting just from your pleading. Your manicured nails drove deep marks on the drawer and the mirror began to shake back and forth. Your rapid breath fogged up the reflection in front of you and blocked the view. You kept going faster. Your earrings swayed back and forth with all the movement, along with your long necklace that was repeatedly bumping against your breasts. His whole body weight was on you now, ceasing your thrusts, and he placed himself deep inside. The drawer was back to painfully jabbing at you and it kept you from breathing properly. And whatever air trapped in your lungs was forced out of you when he rammed into you one last time. His cockhead glued to your cervix when he blew his fat load into you. His eyes went wide. Hair completely down. He looked like he was dying and ascending at the same time then damn near screamed.

He leaned back to give your aching bones some rest with a sweaty forehead against your shoulder. He was groaning even past his orgasm. You reached up to caress him.

“My star. I really wanted to go to the ball.” You sigh. He held onto your breasts again and pinched your nipples. “Are you not done?” Your makeup was ruined and so was your dress. You didn’t even get to cum either. But that was okay, as long as he relished in himself for once.

“Not quite. I’m sorry, darling. I’m sure there’s a spare dress.” He lifted his head and applied soft kisses to your cheeks

“Star, I really liked this dress.”

“I am sorry, my treasure.”

“This occasion was important to me.”

“I’m sorry…” It’s not often he would apologize. “Please, one more…” He sounded so weak and shattered. His head against your back just huffing and puffing. He held onto your waist, lovingly running with thick fingers down your exposed skin. Your skin was squishy compared to his rough finger pads. He was still hard and deep within you, his tip still cuddling your cervix. Another sigh escaped your lips, and you felt your clit throb again. Still unsatisfied. Your eyebrows arched upwards at the sensation. He wanted more and so did you. He felt so good just being seated inside you with his cum seeping out of you, most likely staining his pants and traveling down his balls. You could feel the stretch his thick dick provided to your abused walls. The same familiar feeling of want was still coiled up within, you needed release so badly. You wanted him to fuck it out of you. You bit your lip and looked into the mirror. Pretending to see his own reflection standing behind you. The thought of it made you clamp down on him and you both moaned. You turned your head and looked into his cat-like eyes. His broken voice did not match the way he was glaring at you. Seeming possessive.

Astarion pressed your back against his chest and your lips instinctively pressed on his jaw when he did so. When he pulled out, you could feel his cum spill between your thighs. Must’ve been very pent up. He moved his hand up towards the torn dress that was clinging to your hips, and tried to pass it down your legs, but the waist chain kept it from doing so. He ripped the pearled chain, and the beads fell onto the floor with the dress itself. The torn material was a tripping hazard that pooled around your feet. You didn’t even try to express your anger since he wouldn’t have acknowledged it. The only clothing you had on was the lace panties, the stockings, the jewelry, and your high heels. The vampire behind you was still completely clothed. You could still sense his icy coolness even through the layers of his attire. Your slim hand went down to begin playing with your clit.

His arm wrapped around your waist as the other slid his dick back inside you. Your pussy welcomed him hungrily. Your other hand grabbed onto his strong forearm as he began his thrusts. You kissed his jaw and cheeks, staining them a nice red with the remaining pigment you had on your lips. Astarion shut his eyes for a brief moment, cherishing in your care. He felt overwhelmed with love and lust. He had no idea how to express it. You were the best thing that’s happened to him. Finally someone who would put him first. Providing him soft affection and kind words even when he thought he didn’t deserve it. Being treated so kindly angered him in a way. The way you kissed him was so gentle compared to the way he was fucking you. Astarion felt guilty for rutting into you so harshly, but he couldn’t contain what he was feeling. Whatever that feeling was.

He looked down to watch as you played with yourself. Seeing your hand movements down between your breasts. Each thrust had them bounce. Your mascara ran down your flushed cheeks as your lipstick smeared against your chin and nose. Your eyeshadow and liner was smudged as well. It was all a mess and he loved it. He loved this. He loved you. Something so beautiful ravaged by him. Astarion kept going and wouldn’t stop; he couldn't. Not with the way your walls eagerly swallowed him. How it would squeeze down on him everytime he pulled back, asking him not to leave. You were velvety, tight, and wet. Feeling every ridge and every flutter. Felt your legs shake and wobble. He sensed how you would progressively compress on him the closer you got. Barely even able to shove himself fully into you. The tip kept hitting that perfect spot, the spot that had your eyes rolling and he kept striking and beating it devastatingly fast. You stopped kissing him, having a hard time breathing through the vicious motions. You can’t think. Everything was a blur and you felt dizzy. Your pretty nails dug into his forearm without a care in the world. The sound of your hips meeting was far too loud, anyone with ears would be able to listen. You tried your best to stay quiet, but the hits Astarion kept giving was blowing your cover. The slapping was loud, the way the desk rumbled was loud, the way the mirror shook was loud and each time it trembled it would hit the wall. You hoped the music was deafening enough to muffle everything while he was giving you a throrough fuck. Completely surrendering yourself to him. Taking him so well. Your hair was all over your face now, whisps sticking to sweat, to tears, and to gloss. The edge of the drawer was pinching the hand that was between your legs and it hurt, squishing your arm. Astarion began to lean forwards now which made it even worse making your nails dig deeper into his sleeved arm to brace yourself. He was never this rough before. One hand came up and moved your hair out of the way to smooch you.

“Good pet.” He whispered rasply. Oh fuck. Oh fuck. He bended further into you. Not only did the drawer now hurt your arm but it went back to crushing your ribs. You were on your tippy toes from the positioning and positive that your heels were breaking. Your fingers rubbed quick circles on your clit while he plowed through you, which had a sob escape you. You’ve been trying to keep quiet. Despite the other ruckus the both of you have been doing, the last thing you wanted was someone hearing you delighting yourself in such a publicly debauched way. He himself wasn’t holding back though. Anyone would be able to hear him panting. You were doing this to him. It all felt so wrong but it only further encouraged the throbbing in your core. He let a long, pained groan go while baring his teeth. The sharp fangs gleamed in the light as he slowly glided his tongue over them. He was frustrated and wanted this to last longer.

“Gonna cum again?” You tease.

“Yes.” His eyes were wide now as he slammed in. He looked crazed. Like a rabid animal chasing his own high. White silver hair framing his sculpted features. Red orbs peering through the strands. He was actually enjoying himself. Actually enjoying sex without the weight of his past bearing down on him. That realization made you gush. Eyes rolling as you felt his (previous) cum and wetness drip down your ankles.

“Yeah?” You coo.

“Yes.”

“Then do it. Fuck your child into me. Do it. Fuck me.” You said through gritted teeth. You didn’t mean for it to sound like a command and it made your heart drop the second those words left your mouth. You could only hope at the moment that he was okay with it. You were going to apologize until he jerked your hair back and forced your face upwards. Unleashing something primal the second you finished that sentence. He wanted you to bear his child even if it was an impossible feat. Astarion hates kids but the thought drove him mad and he was willing to give you everything you desired. He kept pulling until you were able to look into his red eyes. Towering over you. You could see just how deranged he appeared. Consumed by passion. The insatiable hunger that radiated off his cold body was intoxicating. Your back was impossibly arched now and you felt like you were gonna snap in half. Even more so whenever he bucked his hips. The severe pain on your arm made you abandon your needy clit.

“Yeah? Like that, darling? Huh? Just like that?” You couldn’t say a word. Not one. The ache in your ribs, back, scalp and neck was intolerable but you needed him to cum. To not care about anything else but his own pleasure. You could feel his dick pummeling through your guts and mistreating your cervix. Somehow you were still reaching your high.

“This is what you want? Huh? Yes? No? Tell me.” He spoke but it didn’t mean anything. All words lost their meaning. Astarion was fucking your brains out. The heels broke under his ministrations. He was wrecking everything. Your vision went blurry from the tears, they kept spilling and wouldn’t stop. You were going to cum crying. You were gonna cum just like this.

“So cockdumb you can’t even answer me?” The eye contact was driving you both crazy. The view he had was so fucking hot you wouldn’t believe it. His cum stained balls smacking your clit with each hit. You grounded your cunt against him just to grind your clit against his balls and you rolled your hips for more. Finally your bundle of nerves was getting the attention it deserved. Your mouth was open, spilling silent cries when your eyes moved to the back of your head. No longer able to stare into his blown pupils. He gruffed in anger and grabbed you by the throat instead of your hair.

“Look at me.” He told you as his hand squeezed ruthlessly. You listened. “There you go, my sweet little treat. You’re taking me so well.” Astarion smiled down at you villainously, teeth white and shiny. Silver hair all over the place. Eyes manic. He was fucking mental. Juices flowed down as you came, If his pants were not ruined before, it was ruined now. You came looking deep into his soul, violently trembling and jolting in snapped heels. You needed to scream but couldn't because of the choking. Mouth opened and closed for air. The tear soaked makeup slightly burned when it slipped into your eyes. Veins pulsing the best it could despite the blockade Astarion’s ivory hands gave. Your head was hurting and thumping and your palms laid on what was in front for any form of support. Once again your nails worked itself into the wooden drawer leaving behind more horrible marks in its wake.

Astarion fucked your beaten pussy past your orgasm. Back being all sorts of blown out. Your walls were milking his dick and balls, begging for his seed to flood your womb and hoping to knock you up. It made him grip your throat even tighter. Your Adam’s apple tried bobbing up and down to swallow up any breath you could seek. In his point of view your face was a light scarlet because of the lack of oxygen, with a vein protruding from your forehead. Him mistreating you, and you letting him sent shivers up his spine. He let go once your vision almost faded and blurred, then brutally drove his fangs into your neck. You gasped for air when he unclasped, somewhat because of the sudden pain and mostly because of the choking. Having large amounts of air fill your lungs helped you regain vision. The mirror was no longer foggy and you could get a good view of the situation. You were in tatters. Hair. Makeup. Outfit. Embarrassment creeped in with just how fucked out and shameless you seemed. Is this what you really looked like? Or was the mirror playing tricks? Is this what Astarion has been seeing this whole time? How depraved and disgusting. He loved the view though. Your jewelry, tits, and locks kept moving with the thrusts. But with the aggressive and speedy drinking, your sight would blur up in no time. And with your desperate breathing, the mirror would soon fog up again. The tang in your blood was sweeter than before and his fangs pushed further in to drain you better. Astarion was properly feeding this time and didn’t hold back in greedily sucking you up. Every muscle was sore and you were surely going to pass out. Then the taste of euphoria in your blood made him burst. Abruptly grabbing onto your breast, his yell was muffled since his teeth were still latched. He jerked with each rope of cum he shot into you. The tip probing and nuzzling your spent cervix. You let out a long moan when he started filling you to the brim a second time.

“Fuck. I'm sorry…” Astarion wiped your tears away when he came to his senses. Heavy pants mixing together. Your body was in horrible pain and limp but you felt joy in bringing him pleasure. He nuzzled you while skimming his fingers on the dark bruises kindly. “I’m so sorry darling. I don’t know what possessed me. I’ll make it up to you… what do you want to eat? I’ll bring food to you.” The marks on your neck began to show and he felt intense regret. How could he lose himself like this? How could he treat you this way? To someone he loved and appreciated so vastly? “Please forgive me, my love.” He said, fear in his trembling voice. He fucked up badly.

“Gods…” he whispered. You slumped onto the desk. Astarion was going to be hellbent on compensating you for the harm he had done.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“Well, yes, but—“

“Then it’s okay.”

“No. It is not okay. I am truly sorry. Do not try to validate my actions. I am so sorry about the ball, darling.”

“Yeah, you’re an asshole for tearing my dress and for breaking your promise to take me dancing.” You admitted as he embraced you. “But you can make it up to me by buying me a new dress. AND by giving me lots of cuddles. If you’re up for it.” You offer.

“Of course, my treasure, how could I say no?”

#astarion #astarion ancunin #baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #bg3 tav #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #smut #astarion x reader smut #astarion smut

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girlokwhatever · 8 months ago

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paige x short uconn wbb player gf hcs!!! but like their relationship isn’t public 🫣

(short as in like 5’3-5’5 hehe)

paige bueckers x short!wcbb player!gf hcs

୭ ✧ ˚. 🏀✧˚ · .༊*·˚𐦍༘⋆ paige with a short basketball player gf,,

— you caught her eye INSTANTLY during basketball workouts at uconn

— she was actually so impressed to find out you’re an 83% three-point shooter

— at first during practice she was so scared to even run near you because she didn’t want to hurt you or actually tumble over you

— made a bet with the rest of the team that she could jump over you..

- obviously it didn’t work

— in practice she’ll lift you up so you can dunk

— SOSOSO PROTECTIVE OVER YOU

- she second you get fouled she’s right by your side

- will defo play dirty with whoever fouled you

— you’re such a dynamic duo on the court

- that’s what the press says LOL

— will make jokes constantly about how short you are

- especially on live

- “guys she’s the shortest basketball player in history”

— the media doesn’t know you’re dating lowkey

— they always just say that “paige is really dedicated to the team and you can see that through their bond”

— loves assisting you

— resists every urge to kiss you after a win

- resists even harder to kiss your forehead after a loss

— had to teach you how to block good

- “you can still block even if you’re only three feet tall”

— always giving you little glances during post-game media

— you guys can communicate so well on the court (you always know what the other person is tryna do)

- will set the most amazing screens without you even motioning for them

— the media is lowkey suspicious because you play TOO WELL together

— has to wait awhile after the game so no onside can see you leave together

— when she was injured you dedicated every shot you made to her

— will literally ask you at 3am if you want to just practice shooting

- you always say yes

— if you get injured she’s by your side in a split second

— the whole team teases you for your height

- ESPECIALLY KK

— one time you broke some girls ankles and paige saw from the bench (screams cheering)

- “that should’ve been illegal it was so good”

— paige tells the rest of the team to go crazy when you cheer so she’s not the only one

— she wants to wear your jersey but it’s too fucking small

— going against SC is crazy

- “babe she’s more than a foot taller than you. you can’t guard her.”

— “short stuff”

— paige will hold her hand above your head and tell you to practice by jumping and hitting it

- literally bullies you

— paige loves to compare hand sizes

— everyone underestimates you bc of your height but you’re literally a fireball and your gf knows it

— you’ll always forever be each other’s biggest fan

— “how do you even grip the ball your hands are so small”

- “i have to hold with two..”

- makes dirty jokes about that

⋆˚✿˖°ִ ࣪𖤐◞ ꙳ ๋࣭ ⭑ `˚. ✦.˳·˖✶ ⋆.✧̣̇˚.

heyyyyyyyyyy guys i’m back…. 😅😅

kate martin fics??!!!!!

#paige buckets #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers smut #paige bueckers x reader #uconn huskies #uconn women’s basketball

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hyperions-light · 1 month ago

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I Cannot See How To Begin: Lucanis in the Fade Ossuary

This is the fourth in a series of posts about Spite's Ossuary. The others can be found here, here, and here.

Okay, we've FINALLY reached Lucanis, hooray! Proceeding past Illario leads you to the torture room you found in the prison, which is... where he is, which is very disturbing, implication wise.

He asks Rook why they're here, and they say they're rescuing him. He then says there's no way out of this place for him, which makes Spite angry. Spite says that Lucanis is reneging on their deal by staying here, and Lucanis says, frustrated, that he doesn't WANT to be there. Rook then elucidates that though the Ossuary was a nightmare, it was a familiar one; it was a problem that Lucanis knew how to solve, and trying to face his life with Spite, to create a new identity and deal with his trauma is much harder. Lucanis gets angry, because Rook is right (side note, Lucanis' VA did SUCH a good job here, bravo) and Spite insists that Rook force him to leave. Rook explains that it's impossible, that healing takes time, and that this version of the Ossuary is not something Lucanis can just walk out of.

Lucanis finally agrees!! That he is going to work on his fucking problems!!! Praise the Maker!! He says he just can't see a way forward, how he should begin (the animators are doing WORK here, his expression is melting me). This is very understandable, considering the amount of trauma and violation he undoubtedly experienced. Rook suggests that he and Spite make a deal, agree on something small.

As the physical manifestation of Lucanis' trauma but also an actual guy, this is great metaphorically and literally. Lucanis makes peace with the actual entity inhabiting him and begins to process his trauma by dealing with it a piece at a time.

Lucanis and Spite agree to either focus on saving Caterina or punishing Illario, with Rook's encouragement in either direction, and then they all exit the Ossuary.

WHOOOOOOO okay! Deep breaths. Get water. Just like a couple more paragraphs to go!

The Ossuary is the climax of Lucanis' mental health struggles in this game, and it was exactly what I was hoping for. Because Lucanis is traumatized and does not appear to have been particularly communicative about his feelings even before the Ossuary, he can't ask Rook for help, or tell them what's really wrong, the same way he can't directly ask Rook to come with him to plan Caterina's funeral because he needs support. Spite intervenes on his behalf, and that is the only way that he can deal with his problems. He needs to confront himself; he needs to struggle with what he is, but he can't do it alone. He needs Rook's help, and the team's help, and SPITE'S help. It's clever that you can immediately see this change upon exiting this section, when he asks Viago and Teia for their help.

Lucanis was hurt immeasurably, in so many ways, in the Ossuary. his story is about climbing out of that pit, and this quest is the first real step. Watching him struggle and trying to help him for the first part of the game is heartbreaking. He is hurting himself, but he doesn't know how to stop; he can only do what he has always done, and go back to work. Rook shows him a way out of that, here. I think it was a fantastic way to show his inner conflict without having him do something out of character, and a beautiful way to show how he starts to heal from everything.

OKAY DONE! If you made it through all of that, wowie! Thanks for reading! Go get cookies or something! I know I'm gonna. See you... sometime. This took like six hours or something, so I'm going to go do something mindless lol

#dragon age #veilguard #datv spoilers #veilguard spoilers #dragon age: the veilguard spoilers #datv #lucanis dellamorte #spite dragon age #rook #the ossuary

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sleepyjuice · 6 months ago

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jj with his gf who often has migraines 🙏🙏

a/n: i am not overly happy with this but i hope it’s okay nonnie<\3 not proofread lol

Today was not your day. You had woken up with a pounding headache that soon turned into a migraine.

It couldn’t have been a more inconvenient time, considering you had plans to go onto the mainlands with JJ, John B and Sarah for a double date.

Everything was fine when you fell asleep the previous night, wrapped up in your boyfriend’s arms after a nice evening together, excited for the next day. But the universe noticed your excitement and laughed at you.

You weren’t sure what time it was when the blinds were pulled open followed by JJ’s body jumping on top of you on the bed, peppering kisses into your sleep ridden hair.

You outwardly groaned, the light shining through the window making your head throb even harder and the sudden movement from JJ’s body weight making you nauseous.

“Yo, it’s like one in the afternoon, baby, you good? Didn’t think you drank that much last night.” JJ furrowed his brows, taking note of your lack of giggles and typical morning (or in this case, afternoon) affection.

You sighed slowly, pulling your blanket up higher so it was covering your face, attempting to block some of the light from your eyes.

“Migraine.” You grumbled, voice barely audible through the thick blanket and your quiet tone.

JJ bowed his head down closer to your blanket covered face, not moving it since you obviously put it there for a reason, but he couldn’t hear you.

“I- what was that, baby? I can’t understand you.” He spoke softly, his hands resting on your waist over the blanket.

You squeezed your eyes shut as a wave of throbbing pain shot through your head again, groaning quietly.

It wasn’t that JJ’s voice was too loud, he was actually speaking nice and softly, which you appreciated, but currently, you wished you could just communicate telepathically with him so you both didn’t have to speak.

“Migraine.” You repeated yourself, your voice loud enough that he could hear you this time.

His eyes widened once he finally understood, immediately feeling like an asshole for how he quite literally did everything you shouldn’t do around someone who has a migraine.

He nodded to himself, knowing you couldn’t see him before slowly getting off of the bed and closing the blinds, darkness filling the room again.

Only a moment after that, you heard JJ’s footsteps softly pad towards the door, followed by the sound of the door clicking shut gently.

You couldn’t care less at the moment if he had just up and left you without saying anything. You just wanted to sleep. You could argue later.

However, a few minutes later, you heard the door open again along with sock clad feet moving along the floor. Sensing that the room was dark again, you pulled the top of the blanket down so that your bloodshot eyes could investigate your visitor.

Through the darkness you could make out that it was JJ, holding a frozen bag of corn, a washcloth, a bottle of water and what looked to be pain medication.

Your heart fluttered at the sight of him, his gesture being sweet and endearing. You did feel bad that he was probably beating himself up for how he woke you up, but it wasn’t his fault, he couldn’t have known.

You snaked a hand out from under the blanket, reaching forward towards where JJ stood at the end of the bed.

At that, he stepped forward, going to hand you the frozen corn and the washcloth, but you shook your head, your fingers wiggling a little bit.

“Want you.” You whispered, not wanting to push yourself by talking too loudly.

JJ cocked his head slightly at your words, but obliged, climbing into bed next to you. He still wrapped the bag of corn in the washcloth and placed it on your forehead, knowing that cold pressure was one of the few things that gave you relief, even if you didn’t address it at that very moment.

He made sure you took two pills and a few sips of water before fully laying down next to you, his arms opening as you curled into his side.

“Don’t wanna talk too much and hurt your head, baby. Just lettin’ ya know that I rescheduled our date with John B and Sarah for Friday. You can get some sleep.” JJ whispered softly, his hand tracing gentle patterns against your arm.

You nodded slowly at that, your head still pounding but your heart satisfied and full of love at JJ’s actions. It was something so small and simple, but you didn’t always feel taken care of in your past relationships, JJ continued to show you how being loved can truly feel like, even with the tiniest things.

“Thanks, jay,” you sighed, eyes feeling heavier due to the cool relief against your forehead. “Love you.” You added, voice barely above a whisper as sleep began to take over.

JJ shut his eyes also, perfectly content with spending the day napping with you until you felt better.

“Love you, too, baby. Get some sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #jj maybank prompt #jj maybank one shot #jj maybank fanfiction #jj maybank fic #jj maybank imagine #i feel like i could do better but i am slacking recently I’m sorry!!!!

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scary-grace · 26 days ago

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(secret) santa, baby - a shigaraki x f!reader fic

Shigaraki doesn't want to participate in the office's Secret Santa exchange, but when Toga promises to make it easy on him, he gives in. But making it easy for him makes it a lot harder for you -- you're the one who got his list. Office AU, no quirks. For the first day of 12 Days of Christmas event in the X Reader Lovers community, prompt: Wish List! Divider by @ wcnderlnds

part i part ii part iii part iv part v part vi part vii part viii part ix

part i (wish list)

Tomura stares down at the blank piece of paper. It’s not totally blank. It’s – sparkly, just like the green and red pen with a pompom on it that Toga stuck in his hand. There’s a pattern around the edges, also green and red, of leaves and berries, and right at the top of the page, in curly letters, it says WISH LIST. Tomura doesn’t have a clue. He doesn’t even want to do this. He’s only doing it because Toga’s making him.

She’s staring at him right now. “Go away,” Tomura says. “I’m not writing it with an audience.”

“See, but if I leave you alone, you won’t write it at all,” Toga says, smiling. “It’s a Secret Santa, Tomura-kun. It won’t be any fun if you don’t write a good list.”

“It’s not going to be fun anyway, because I don’t want to do it.” Tomura shoves the piece of stationary back towards Toga. “Find somebody else.”

“Nope! Remember last year? You didn’t do it, and then you were mad all twelve days because everybody got gifts but you,” Toga says. She pushes the paper back towards Tomura. “Come on. It’s easy. Just put things on your list – not too expensive – and somebody who gets your list will leave them for you! Doesn’t that sound fun?”

“No,” Tomura says. Toga scowls at him. “I have to go shopping for somebody, too.”

Coming up with a gift list is bad enough. Waiting around to see if he’ll get presents – or even one present – from whoever got stuck with him is worse. But Tomura watched all of last year, saw all the effort everybody else put into their presents. Special hiding places, special wrapping paper. Last year Dabi got into an arms race with his younger brother and started leaving actual riddles for the person he was giving gifts to. Tomura’s not going to do any of that shit. Whoever he gets is going to be disappointed.

“I’m not doing extra shopping,” he says to Toga. “I’m out.”

“I’m organizing this year,” Toga says. So? “What if I get you somebody with a really easy list? Somebody normal who’s not going to ask for anything weird and who’s not going to get mad if you don’t set up a scavenger hunt.”

Tomura thinks about his friends, then his coworkers. “There’s absolutely nobody like that who works here.”

“Yes there are. You just don’t know about them, because they don’t do anything to annoy you,” Toga says. Her smile starts looking a little sharp around the edges. “Write the list.”

The sooner Tomura writes it, the sooner this will stop happening. He picks up the pen, sets it against the piece of paper, and hits an instant snag. “I don’t want anything.”

“Yes, you do,” Toga says. Tomura thinks about it, then writes something. Toga grabs the pen out of his hand and crosses it out. “No. It has to be a gift. Something you wouldn’t buy for yourself. Something nice.”

“For under ¥4000?” If Tomura wants something, he usually just buys it. “This is stupid.”

“If you don’t have specific things you want, just write down things you like,” Spinner suggests on his way past with a stack of copies. “Like say – video games, dogs, candy, energy drinks –”

“I’m not letting him put energy drinks on his Secret Santa wish list,” Toga says. Spinner shrugs and keeps walking. “That’s not a bad idea, Tomura-kun. Write the kind of things you like, and then your Secret Santa can find things like that for the right price.”

Fine. Tomura gets the pen back from Toga and writes: video games, dogs, candy – “More specific,” Toga instructs. Tomura scowls and adds parentheticals. “See, that’s perfect! Was that so hard?”

“Yes.” Tomura lets Toga have the list, then takes it back again a second later. “I need to add something.”

It’s only a sentence, and Toga reads it out loud, looking all kinds of skeptical. “I hate the cold, so I don’t want any let-it-snow shit. Wow, Tomura.”

“You said to be specific,” Tomura says. “Are we done?”

“Yes!” Toga folds Tomura’s list into a quick origami heart, then tucks it into her pocket. “This will be fun! You’ll see. You won’t regret it.”

She leaves without the stupid Christmas pen. Tomura tosses it after her and flops forward on his desk, regretting it already.

part 2 ->

#shigaraki x reader #shigaraki x you #tomura shigaraki x reader #tomura shigaraki x you #shigaraki tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x you #x reader #reader insert #man door hand hook car door #12 days of christmas 2024 #a bisquared production

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koenigami · 3 months ago

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nothing hurts like you. tags : angst/fluff, fem!reader, manager!reader, mentions of cheating, insecurities, bad communication, suggestive wc : 1,6k synopsis : after your last argument with shidou, pictures of him appear that make you question the past weeks you've spent with him.

One meeting after the other, too many unnecessary video calls, endless emails from sponsors that you still had to answer. And still, with all the work that was supposed to keep you busy and distracted, your mind wouldn’t stop drifting off to blond hair and piercing pinkish eyes.

“Stupid.” you muttered and frustratedly slammed your laptop shut, only for you to inspect it a second later with panic in your eyes, making sure that you had not damaged anything. Apologetically, you slid your hand over the device, and the movement made you think about blond strands of hair that had felt so soft as you slid your finger through them.

You were definitely losing your mind.

And the current ache in your chest? Just another byproduct of your stupidity. Or insanity? Because to be honest, there weren’t many people who’d voluntarily and genuinely fall for someone like Shidou Ryusei.

Of course, you weren’t proud of it, but some things simply could not be willingly chosen. Like the person one fell in love with. Love?

You groaned and buried your face in your hands. As much as you tried not to think about him, it was futile. Your thoughts were overflowing with him and his stupidly handsome face. The way his gaze made you feel so very much seen, his hands on your body so warm, and his rough voice in your ears like a sweet lullaby.

“What’s making my pretty doll pull such a face, huh?” Shidou’s voice pulled you out of your thoughts as he stepped into your office, not bothering to knock first. Think of the devil, and he appears.

You watched him as he threw his jacket over one of the armchairs in front of your desk while taking a seat in the other one as if he owned the entire place. No matter where he went, with whom, or at what time, Shidou Ryusei’s presence was overwhelming. Once he stepped into a room, it always seemed as if everyone’s glances would magnetically drift towards him, whether that happened out of amazement or annoyance, he didn’t care.

And then there was you. “Fake it ‘til you make it.” was what made people believe that Japan’s national football team manager was a great inspiration for many people, especially women. It was what had landed you your current position in the first place. Yet, you hated taking up room. Or maybe you didn’t hate it, you simply never learned how to do so without feeling like an impostor.

While people shot wary glances towards Shidou for being too much, you have always been praised for being so calm, so down to earth, so easy to get along with. So invisible.

“What do you want, Shidou?” The cold undertone of your voice disguised your actual bitterness as you packed your bag, avoiding to look at him at all cost. The last thing you needed was to get wrapped around his little finger, and seeing him and his handsome smirk would only make it harder for you to resist. “I didn’t have a proper break today, and want to get home as quickly as possible. Say what you have to say, I don’t have time.”

The low whistle and cackle he let out made your face heat up as you got up, putting your coat on with a little more aggression in your movements than usual. Was he laughing at you? Were you that big of a joke to him?

“Shidou, huh? Is that how it is now? What happened to Ryu’? Or handsome? Or dad-”

You slammed the top drawer where you kept your wallet and keys too hard, startling yourself and maybe even Shidou a little in the process. “I don’t know what you mean.” You sighed, exhaustion and fake annoyance lacing your voice as you stepped around your desk and finally looked at the man invading your office. Damnit, he was invading your entire life.

“You’re hurting my feelings over here, manager-chan.” Shidou gritted through his teeth and got up from your chair. Something akin to hope bloomed in your chest when you noticed that his tight smile and stiff tall stature were nothing but a façade which was about to crumble. Hope because maybe you weren’t the only one affected by this entire ordeal.

Yet, he could see it happen instantly. The way the little flicker of light in your eyes faded as the reminder of something crossed your mind, and instead made them glaze over with unshed tears.

“Well, you obviously weren’t thinking of mine while you were screwing other women behind my back.”

One argument. It had taken one silly little argument for him to storm out of your apartment to what you initially had thought was to get some fresh air and cool off. You had, however, never expected for things to come the way they did.

His tongue slid over his front teeth as he nodded understandingly. So you had read the newest articles about him. Pictures of him at a bar, him leaving said bar with people you had never seen before and entering a club with a random woman on his arm. More pictures of Shidou with strangers, mostly women, surrounding him as they all drank to their heart's content. What must have happened after all those scenes didn’t leave much up to the imagination. Titles like “JPN’s Womanizer on Adventure” or “Tokyo’s number one bachelor spotted in restrooms with fans?” didn’t really help his case.

“My, my, manager-chan. I didn’t take you for such a naive little girl.” You hadn’t realised how close Shidou had gotten until your back touched the wall behind you.

Whatever you and him once had, both of you had tried to keep it as private as possible. Would it have helped to go public with your so called relationship? No, it would have only stalled the inevitable. You wondered if all those weeks he thought this to be some silly cat and mouse game, in which he could chase you and let you go whenever he wanted, however he wanted.

You smiled at him, so sweetly, so bitterly, and when the single tears slid down your cheek, paired with your next words, Shidou felt like a goddamn knife was being twisted into his heart. Twice.

“Yeah, guess I was naive, wasn’t I?”

The little step that he silently took back was your cue to leave, yet as you were about to grab the handle of the office door, your vision completely blurred with tears, you halted when he spoke again.

“I didn’t.” He spoke earnestly, no stupid smile, no teasing sarcasm.

“What?” You whispered.

“Last night. I didn’t fu- I didn’t sleep with anyone else.” The sound of his thick boots hitting the carpeted floor grew louder as he slowly stepped closer with his hands in his pockets. He was so close, you could smell his cologne. You knew if you took only one step back, you’d slam into his chest. And it was so so tantalising knowing that his embrace and touch were only a breath away.

“I’ve stopped fucking around for a while now. Ever since that night, if you want to know.”

That night. The night you took a slightly wasted Shidou home when he appeared to have had a glass or two too many at the after game party, only for him to fake his tipsiness all the way up to his apartment. There, he all of a sudden could walk easily, was able to unlock his front door without any struggle, and managed to charm his way into your heart as well as into your pants.

“I don’t drink, doll. M’ mind’s already fucked up as it is, and at certain moments I prefer to keep my mind straight. Sometimes you gotta make sure you make the right decisions, right?” You remembered his words from that time, the way his hands roamed your body and undressed you piece by piece, before his first finger plunged inside you. “Shit- can’t risk a blackout. Don’t wanna forget a single moment of this.”

You didn’t know what part of that memory had made you turn around and sob pathetically right into his chest, though what you knew was that something about it felt right. He could laugh at you all he wanted for it, but the sigh of relief he let out at the same time once he held you in his arms was too obvious for you not to catch it. “Idiot.” He mumbled softly into your hair, as he held the back of your head and pressed you further against him. “When have paparazzi ever been a trustworthy source, hm?”

The slap against his chest was anything but painful, and you despised him for having the audacity to be so damn cocky after all that just happened. You despised him for looking at you as if you hung the moon and stars, even though you looked like a panda with tear stained cheeks, red eyes, and snot running down your nose. “Well, you should start being better at communicating instead of running to the next club and partying your relationship stress away?!”

He cooed at the way you sniffled and wiped your face with the sleeves of your blazer, and when he showed you that stupidly handsome toothy grin, you tried to slap him again. However, you didn’t pull away when he engulfed you back in his arms despite your whines about getting snot all over him.

“Want me to lick it off your face?”

“Ryu’, what the hell, no?!”

#ryusei shidou #shidou ryusei #bllk shidou #shidou x reader #shidou ryuusei x reader #shidou blue lock #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #shidou fluff #shidou x you #blue lock shidou #shidou bllk

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cheqorb · 2 months ago

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More Between Us.

You’ve always been just friends, but they can’t ignore how their heart races whenever you’re near.

FEAT. Isagi, Bachira

NOTES. probably my most tooth-rotting post yet! annnd I totally forgot I had this in my drafts Bring this duo back to me though pleasj

ISAGI is easygoing, and mild-mannered by nature (though perhaps his rivals disagree on that). It’s literally harder to not be friends with him. Your relationship was equally good, nothing particularly special and not abysmal. The type of friends who might talk on the way to class if you spot each other, but never go out of their way to do so either.

If asked, you wouldn’t even say best friends; he’s too busy with his teammates, and you have your own friend group.

See, Isagi enjoys thinking about stuff in a logical sense, using reason and evidence to support his ‘theory’. Both in real life and in football.

So before he even comes to the conclusion of a crush, firstly, there’s the small details he picks up about you.

Your eyes shift colour slightly if the sun hits them right. But, he reckons that happens with everyone’s eyes. Your eyes crinkle upwards when you smile, and maybe even dimples form on your cheeks as you do so. He likes seeing people smile, and yours is… in a way, cuter than anyone else’s? If he had to rank smiles, he’d put yours near the top. All hypothetical, obviously!

He’s always been observant, even as a kid, so Isagi figured he was just feeling a little more insightful as of late but it doesn’t stop there.

Suddenly, Isagi finds himself unconsciously lingering in places he knows you'll be. He tells himself it's just coincidence, but deep down, he has a feeling that he’s seeking you out more often.

Practicing with his team becomes a lot more strategic, with him making sure he's near your usual route home (not in a stalker way, at least, he hopes not), and just on time so that he can ‘bump into you’ and walk together.

And he lives in the complete opposite direction, so, while you don’t mind his presence, you find it a little odd.

Isagi begins to remember every little thing you mention, even the small stuff, like your favorite snack or the song you've been listening to on repeat. Next thing you know, he’s casually surprising you with them, acting like it’s no big deal but loves it when you get visibly excited about it.

He fumbles with his words a little more around you now, overthinking simple things that never used to bother him. It’s not like he’s shy (actually one of the best communicators out of everyone), he just doesn’t want to mess up or make you think he’s weird!

If he says something that could be interpreted as mildly creepy, he’s actually the first one to call it out and apologise over and over again. Beats himself up about it at home, even if you thought it was mildly funny that he knew what you were doing last week Tuesday at around 5:06PM…

When his teammates joke about him having a crush, he laughs it off, but there’s always a little pink in his cheeks that he hopes you don’t notice.

He'll start texting you first more often, just to share something funny or ask for your opinion on something trivial. It’s an excuse, really, just to have another reason to talk to you.

Also catches himself smiling whenever he sees a notification from you pop up on his phone, and his heart does a little flip when he reads your replies, no matter how mundane they are. Literally a “hey, I’m bored. Wanna hang out” is enough for him to lose sleep over it.

When you two do eventually go to said hang out, he pays extra attention to you: whether it's making sure you’re comfortable, or that you’ve got enough to eat, he’s always subtly looking out for you.

Despite all these signs, Isagi convinces himself it’s better this way — giving you small hints for you to understand rather than straight-up confessing. If you notice them and accept, great! If you notice and don’t accept, that’s fine too, he hopes you can remain friends though!

If you’re completely oblivious, well… he’ll muster up the courage to say it outright.

You and BACHIRA are like two peas in a pod together! Where there’s one, the other’s probably lurking nearby somewhere. Every second of every day seems to be spent with each other (and to anybody with common sense, you two already look like you’re dating).

When the crush starts, he thinks about you more than he already did, if that were even possible. Every little thing you do seems to make his heart race, but he sorta brushes it off as just excitement from being with his best friend.

Kind of a trickier situation than Isagi’s one this way though, because now you’re so close, Bachira doesn’t even feel that different about you. He might not even realise it’s romantic until his mother points it out in the midst of another one of his rambling sessions. About you, that is.

I won’t sugarcoat it; he’s nervous if anything. You’re one of the few friends he has and genuinely seem to care and like about him and if he ruins your friendship over his feelings, he’d be devastated.

But he’s back to his usual self and gains a little confidence after some encouragement from others!

Bachira’s clinginess ramps up a notch, but it’s so typical of him that you might not even notice. He’s constantly draping an arm around you, leaning on you, or just being in your personal space as much as possible.

Willing to share anything and everything with you. For example, if it’s snacks he’s got, he’s always picking out the best pieces just for you and handing them over with a cute smile.

Bachira finds himself staring at you a lot more now. Sometimes you’ll catch him and he’ll just laugh it off with a playful comment, but on the inside, his mind is racing with thoughts he can’t quite put into words.

When you talk, he listens with full attention, his usual playful demeanor softening into something more tender. He hangs onto your every word like it’s the most important thing he’s ever heard — and you could literally be talking about a bug you saw on the sidewalk this morning.

If you ever need anything, Bachira’s the first one to jump in and help, no questions asked. He’d go out of his way just to make you smile, even if it means a truckload of extra effort on his part.

Sometimes, he hints at deeper feelings in his usual roundabout way — in little jokes that might just have a hint of truth behind them. But he always plays it off as just that, a joke.

If you’re feeling down, he’s the first to notice, offering comfort in the form of goofy antics or just sitting with you in silence if that’s what you want.

If you ever confront him directly and ask if he feels something more than just being friends, Bachira might just spill everything in a rush of words; unable to keep his feelings hidden any longer. But until then, he’s content simply being by your side, even if it means he isn’t being entirely honest to himself.

#cheq. writes #cheq. bllk #isagi x reader #bachira x reader #blue lock x reader #blue lock x you #blue lock imagines #bllk imagines #blue lock headcanons #blue lock x gender neutral reader #bllk x reader #isagi x you #bachira x you #bllk fluff

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velvetvexations · 2 months ago

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you’ll see a trans boy be like “i dont personally have the power to oppress you” and then later the same day 3 of their little trans boy friends will start calling you out for making the first trans boy cry so hard he almost died (by disagreeing with him) and then all the cis women in the space will instantly side with the fragile little boys against the scary big [t-slur] who uses intimidating words like “transmisogyny” and thats how the whisper network against you starts, leading to far reaching professional and social consequences that never leave you

This didn’t happen.

Not this way, at least. All marginalized people are at all times at risk of being canceled unfairly. Their marginalization tends to play a major part in that, obviously. Trans women get hit with it a lot and that fucking sucks, and some transmascs are in TERF-y circles and can theoretically use that against transfems should they feel the need to.

This that I’m quoting, however, is a fantasy. It’s a page from a dream journal. People are giddily imagining things like this happening because they live in a world where trans women are feared and have their reputations ruined by lies, and they want to exploit that for their own benefit. The best way of doing this is putting themselves above other trans people, because cis people don’t give enough of a fuck to care or get involved with these bullshit arguments, but if you whine about other marganalized people they will actually be affected by it and forced into the conversation you created out of thin air. It’s not so much a victimization complex as it is a death cult fascination with the misery of transfemininity identical to the TERF obsession with fymyl suffering, defining ‘trans woman’ as 'the thing that feels pain always and forever.’

It’s disgusting and I can’t imagine identifying with such a sniveling and pathetic vision of what being a trans woman is like. It’s so undignified it makes my skin crawl. It’s embarrassing. There’s nothing in this crying little effigy covered in pins and needles I can relate to. I can’t tell if these people need more self-esteem or less. I’m so fucking tired of this wounded gazelle shit.

But for the TRF, transfemininity is all about the abuse. Just look at the beyond absurd assertion, made over and over again, that trans women are maliciously called the t-slur by other trans people. That’s just. No? No. But in claiming that the t-slur can only ever refer to trans women, and that transfeminine suffering takes priority above all else because everyone forever at all times hates trans women more than anyone else, it again becomes necessary to construct this false vision of intercommunity dynamics where “scary big t-slur” is a stereotype that exists within the community in the first place, and which trans men are constantly using against trans women.

It’s just so blatantly selfish for one to act like a transfeminist when all one does every single day is bitch about other trans people. We’re all about to get fucked harder than ever and there are people who profess to sincerely believe they’re fighting the revolution by making up lies about their siblings. I’m easily triggered by transphobia outside of the community and yet even I manage to engage with actual transphobes and make them considerably less transphobic, yet people who don’t even know enough about what TERFs believe to understand they hate men too will fritter the day away on how they could theoretically be canceled if they did something bad ,and wouldn’t that be the worst thing ever? Oh, what if I broke up with someone and our mutual friends believed I was the jerk, because that’s a situation that exclusively happens to poor helpwess twans women and the mere suggestion I could possibly be a jerk in the first place is unthinkable? Hate to keep saying this, but trans women are being actually murdered and this obsessive fixation on “social murder” within the trans community exists purely to spice things up with a feeling of danger because the spaces we’ve managed to carve out for ourselves are otherwise a little too safe and it feels more authentic to the Laura Palmer Ultimate Victim narrative. Massively popular transfems with over ten thousand followers will happily sic them on people for the most upsettingly asinine reasons and then cry-type about how they’re the underdogs in every possible social situation.

But most obnoxious of all is the implication here that, because this can only happen to trans women, gossip and slander does not happen to other trans people, or other marginalized people in general.

That’s fucked, considering how much this discourse has attacked specific targets. It’s most maddening to see that “the coiner of the word transandrophobia has dykebreaking+detransitioning-of-transfems kink” has evolved to “most people who believe in transandrophobia have those kinks” because I constantly see TERFs making huge compilations of transfem blogs engaging in cis dykebreaking kink from the dom perspective. Just transfem dom blog after transfem dom blog enthusiastically into cis dykebreaking, which TERFs use to paint us in a way that fits their narrative.

Literally the only example they can ever give of a transandrophobia-connected person* being a dom for dykebreaking with transfem subs is someone who was being paid by a transfem. Detrans kink is overwhelmingly non-transfems, but almost exclusively as subs to either transfems or cis men, and those transfems aren’t getting paid for it, they actually are just in it for the love of the game. There’s nothing wrong with that, but people want to act like there is when it’s anyone else, and that’s not only weird but also setting up a bear trap to step in later.

Which gets to the point that, hey, wow, I’ve noticed a lot of cis women in particular who self-identify as TME are super into anti-shipping. You cannot possibly imagine you’re safe for trans women if your big issue with trans men articulating their oppression is “they masturbate evilly.” Popular transfem blogs will talk at length about how you shouldn’t judge transfems for their kinks but cis women are so eager to kinkshame transmascs that they not only make shit up out of thin air, but specifically copy and paste kinks almost entirely made up of transfems onto transmascs. Someday very soon a TERF is going to show them it’s much more convenient to be a general transphobe and not make special exceptions for the ones that use the same pronouns as you. They’re going to show your anti-ship cis lesbian friend one of those transfem dykebreaking blog compilations and she’ll take Trans Rights Are Human Rights out of her bio within the hour.

Like, even if you didn’t care about being monstrously inhumane to others, all of this is so against transfem self-interests in the long run, but people who consider themselves the most transfeminist transfeminists there are, of a radical nature, one might say, care more about notes than helping anyone, least of all the transfems they’re feeding into a grinder of paranoia and isolation. Especially the isolation.

It’s a little hard to take it seriously when I get accused of calling all trans women groomers for thinking it’s bad when people talk about “curing” other trans women’s “comphet,” how “TMEs” are obligated to bottom for them to compensate for transmisogyny, and writing long treatises on why it’s one’s moral responsibility to throw forcefem kink at random men because they may like it. Like, am I saying trans women are groomers, or am I saying some people use being members of a marginalized community to be kinna gross? People somehow find it in them to be angry at gay men who cross boundaries in spite of the messaging that they’re all sex abusers for the past two hundred years. Especially since 90% of the concern is for other trans women.Like, sorry, but I care enough about trans women that I’m going to say something if I think you’re putting them in a bad situation, and someone being a trans woman doesn’t make them immune to that. But oh, it does if you assume that this is all just common sense transfeminism, and I am in fact making this accusation of most trans women instead of an extremely niche group.

Never mind that in the screencap people use to accuse me of calling trans women “rapists” I was saying something a self-identified TME said was coercive, and whose identity as a Not a Trans Woman I explicitly noted.** Never mind that I’m the not the one telling people to name their blogs after the original transbian separatist group that famously fell apart after resulting in heavy sexual abuse. Never mind that I have said over and over again that TRFs act no more entitled to people’s bodies than lesbian TERFs who treat people they perceive as women the same way.

But I’m supposed to believe that those cis anti-shippers who post things like “every time someone says kinks are fine they’re just protecting predators in the LGBT community” is a great ally and I’m a traitor because they hate men and I don’t?

Sorry, no, not a traitor. A “pickme begging to be beaten to death with hammers.” Who’s probably not even actually a trans woman. Great transfeminism, yall. You’re really fighting transmisogyny.

It’s especially galling now that TRFs have taken to calling transandrophobia “reactionary,” the most bullshit possible way to call a group that includes a huge number of PoC, who they constantly accuse of tokenization, a pack of Nazis. What is transandrophobia reacting to? Bigotry? Golly gee, I guess so! Or maybe it’s “reacting” to transmisogyny as part of the completely absurd idea that trasnmascs steal everything from transfems. Like, yeah, sure girliepop, and we stole misogyny from cis women, right? Sorry you failed to not sound exactly like a TERF yet again but maybe try again tomorrow and you’ll finally earn not being called a radfem.

But isn’t it sooooo mean of me to compare a small amount of trans women to radfems? Like their oppressors? Well, first of all, they regularly refer to Jewish people as Nazis, discourse aside that they do that is simply a true fact which shows they indeed think it’s possible to justify comparisons like that, although in their case it’s just because it feels like getting off a sick burn and rhetorical W to go “ah, but what if this Jewish person…was a Nazi? Checkmate, Zionists.”

Secondly, for as much as TRFs want to claim TERFs only hate them, that’s simply not true and I have conclusively proven this with basic use of Tumblr’s search function and the tag “radblr.” Twice. If you believe they love transmascs and only want what’s best for them, congratulations dipshit, you fell for their propaganda so hard I’m surprised they haven’t managed to convince you you’re not a woman. Or is it only an obvious lie when it’s about you?

Most annoyingly, just on a personal level, is the way TRFs get pissed off at non-transfem feminine AMAB people for daring to exist. The idea that femboy is a slur for trans women would be laughable if it weren’t grotesque in it’s ignorance. The things I’ve read people say about how transmisogynistic it is for an anime character to be a crossdressing man instead of a trans woman are just infuriatingly racist. Not everything is about you and it’s not actually a big deal if people talk about others once in blue moon.

The constant posts about how non-transfems are evil for not making more transfem headcanons, or for headcanoning the TRF’s favorite canonically male character wrong, are particularly childish. I can’t even go into MY favorite blorbo’s tag without seeing people call transmasc headcanons of him inferior literary analysis completely without irony, and every single time they shit like this, they do it while making up the most convoluted and nonsensical explanations for why the character can only be transfem instead, as though the hostility is defensiveness born out of their particular blorbo requiring a lot of creativity to headcanon that way, necessitating going to war to prove they can’t really be a man to assert it as The One Truth. Then they’ll complain until the fucking heat death of the universe about how everyone loves transmasc headcanons because of transmisogyny.

It’s the same unbearable on-sight hostility as when a TERF sees a child on the subway and goes home to type up a novel of a post on how he had the eyes of a future wife-beater, and it’s so irritating to see it spread from one corner to another. Literally, TRFs say that trans men will always turn on trans women and eventually detransition to wield their wymbnly power against us, and I’m expected to not see that as having severe hang-ups about people born into what they want to transition into and have denied to them by society’s transphobia?

What about the fact that they constantly mock AFAB trans people in ways specifically targeting that trait, calling non-binary people “theyfabs,” joking it’s easy to misgender trans men when they have large breasts, and reduce transmasc stereotypes to feminine “soft bois?” Like, yeah, okay, you’re not projecting any gaping insecurities you may have about assigned sex and gender roles when you say transmasc music is ukuleles and transfem music is heavy metal, next tell me about how transmascs all enjoy tea parties and transfems all go to football games.

But it’s not even mostly trans women who keep this shit alive in the first place. A higher percentage of total trans women on this site are into this framework, but the total number of non-transfem trans people and cis women so outweighs them in the first place that it cancels that out. Like, if x is higher than y, and x% of trans women on Tumblr agree but only y% of “TME” people do, that’s still a movement mostly consisting of “TME” people. The full separatist angle would very quickly reveal how little air it has to burn if trans women truly only had themselves to watch out for each other. Unfortunately, self-identified TMEs are much more likely to get TERFier rather than simply less TRF-y when the spell breaks and they realize how fucked up this shit is, while the people who’ve been batted at continue to exercise the patience of a saint and continue to fight for trans women anyway.

And that! Is what hurts! The most! The fact that people do not care about transmascs and in particular the ones who believe in transandrophobia are constantly tripping over themselves to defend and help trans women as much as they possibly can. I wish people saw that. I wish that mattered. It’s like watching a black hole suck up an endless font of goodwill and love. And then going “lol reactionary transandrobros hate trans women.”

That’s it, though, the great irony of it all is that if it were true, it’d never have become popular in the first place. It’s kept aloft by self-identified TMEs who are well-meaning if not especially good at critical thinking, except for the the contingent that are convinced trans men are all misogynistic because they personally are, or even outright seem to get gender euphoria from the idea they have male privilege. But for whatever reason, if “TME” folks didn’t care? The people making up elaborate tales of their potential (social) murder would have to find some other way to get attention.

I suggest throwing on a big red nose and joining a circus.

*and I specify “transandrophobia-connected” but you’d have a hard time rustling up transmasc doms in general from those scenes

**also, despite it being something I saw with my own eyes, I notably did not even feel it hit the level of needing to directly name someone as being who I was basing my assessment of sexual coercive behavior on as being sexually coercive, because I think it's much more a prevalent attitude of pressure in sexual contexts than individual behavior

#I posted this for literally about a minute before deciding it was too aggressive #but I got an email from someone replying to it in that very brief window of time that preserved the text #and I was like oh thank God this is actually normal and fine actually people will like this #so angry about so many things #transmisogyny #transandrophobia #exorsexism #discourse #trans radical feminism #cw slurs #cw sa

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