#-drop kicks social anxiety-

[powdermelonkeg]

Important rules/tips I've learned as an adult that helped with anxiety

If people are mad at you, it's their responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

If they're mad at you in secret anyways, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

If people don't like what you're doing, it's their responsibility to tell you

If they say it's fine when it's really not, they're the ones in the wrong, not you

People are allowed to be wrong about you

If they are wrong about you, wait for them to bring it up, because if you try to, you will inevitably overcorrect

Some people are committed to misunderstanding you. You will not win arguments against them. Yes, even if you explain your point of view. They do not care. Drop it

The worst thing that will happen from a first-time offense is being told not to do it again. Maybe with a replacement if you broke something

You can improve relationships and gauge willingness to talk to you by giving compliments. It's like a daily log-in bonus and nobody thinks twice about it

Most things are better after you sleep on them

Most things are better after you have a meal

Most things are better after you shower

Your brain makes up consequences that are irrational. If the worst DOES come to pass and someone acts like they do in your head, they are overreacting, and you are entitled to say "what the fuck"

If your chest hurts after you feel like you've made a social error, that's called rejection-sensitive dysphoria. It means your anxiety is so bad that it's causing you physical pain, which is a good indicator that you're overreacting. Tense yourself, hold it for 20 seconds, let it go, then find a distraction

If you're suddenly angry at someone after you feel like you made a social error, that's also rejection-sensitive dysphoria. You are going to feel annoyed about it for awhile, but being genuinely pissed off is your anxiety trying to find something to blame to take the responsibility off your shoulders, and getting scared because it can't justify itself. Deep breaths, ask yourself how much you ACTUALLY want to be angry at that person, then find a distraction

"Sour grapes" is more healthy for you than stewing. Deciding you don't like someone who's perpetually annoyed with you, won't talk to you, etc. makes letting go of anxiety over them easier

If people don't like you, they will find reasons to be annoyed with you when they otherwise wouldn't. If people do like you, they will find reasons NOT to be annoyed with you when they otherwise would. People do not ping-pong between the two

You DO have to make a conscious choice not to think about something. If you're having trouble circling back to it, say out loud that you're done thinking about it and why. Then find a distraction

When you're upset, part of you is going to want to make false bids for attention (suddenly texting differently, heavy sighs, etc. but when someone asks you about it, you tell them it's nothing). Do not listen to it. You gain nothing from it except more misery

People like to help people they care about. It makes them feel good about themselves

If you think you're insufferable for needing help, see above. Yes, really. They get a serotonin kick from it

If you think you're insufferable for mannerisms you have, you either have to consciously choose not to do them, or accept that they're part of the package that comes with you. Being apologetic about existing does nothing except make you more miserable

If you do things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it makes it easier to do them when you hate it

If you avoid things you don't like when you feel meh about it, it reinforces and magnifies how bad it feels when you hate it

Seriously. Read those last two points again. If you can make yourself make a phone call when you've got nothing to lose, you will slowly lose that panic you get when you have to make a phone call you haven't prepared for. You do have to CONSCIOUSLY take that step

Hobbies that make you care for something get rid of that nagging feeling that you're not doing enough. Go grow some rosemary

If you don't engage with your hobbies regularly, you will feel miserable, and anxiety will spike

Hobbies are things that give you a bit of happiness. They do not have to be organized or named to do that. Go be creative in something. Play with coins. Make up lists. Start a new WIP

No one cares what you look like

If people point out things they don't like about how you look unprompted, they are being rude. You are entitled to say "what the fuck"

People who like you will find you pretty to some degree. Minor things about your appearance go completely unnoticed. Literally, scars and dots and blemishes do not register to someone who likes your company

You looking at yourself in the mirror is 10x more closely than anyone is going to look at you

If you're anxious about your body type, and you're creatively inclined, make/write an oc with that same shape. Give them nice things and make other characters love them. Put them on adventures. You'll start to see yourself in the mirror more kindly

You care about wording and perfect lines/colors way more than anyone who views your work ever will

Sometimes when you're upset, you're going to feel like not eating. Do not do that. Not eating makes you more miserable

Same with things you normally enjoy. Denying yourself helps no one. You are punishing yourself for being sad. Stop it

Both of these will take conscious decision to break the habit of. Make yourself do it anyways, and it will slowly get easier

And again, to reiterate: If someone is mad at you, it is THEIR responsibility to tell you, not your responsibility to guess

[oceantornadoo]

Please I just want to say I LOVE YOU AND YOUR WORK HUHBBDEUBYUVTYVTUOVY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! If you could come up with anything more on the Simon Riley Cut-bulk-the-bird-said-she-liked-me-big-thing I will be your servant forever.

tw: body talk (i headcanon simon as someone who shops in the big & tall section so i think his clothes would fit the body type of every reader. if you shop in that same section, imagine him being MORE bigger and taller than you. mans is 6'4 fr)

--

(a few months later)

simon almost ripped the shirt off his body in frustration. another piece of clothing he had outgrown. he added it to the pile of clothes that he couldn't fit anymore. sleeves too tight, stomach pushing out the fabric. sure he was still in shape, could pass the military physical easily, but he was no longer the lean 22-year-old he once was, muscles now hidden under layers of fat. and he hated it.

there was a knock at the door. still a little pissed off, he opened it with more force than necessary, grunting out "what." before even looking down at who knocked. just his luck, it was you, the one person he tried to be nice to.

"what's got you so grumpy?" you smiled up at him, all sugar and spice. you loved simon's growls, the social anxiety and introvertedness he hid under irritation. it just made it more valuable whenever he laughed at one of your god-awful puns or let you lay on his shoulder. you were never second-guessing if he liked you, mostly because he hated everyone else.

"sorry, didn't see it was you. was jus' doing some spring cleaning." you laughed, a tinkling sound that transitioned into a snort. he loved your insane laughter, a real sound of joy. you peered around his large torso and spotted the pile of clothes on his bed. "doing a big donation, simon?" it was always a punch to the gut to hear his name come out of your mouth, laced with sarcasm and cheek. ever since he told you you could say it in private with him a month ago, you never stopped using it. "somethin' like that. clothes piss me off." you huffed, pushing past him easily as he let you into his room. he closed the door behind you, trying to calm his heart rate as he saw you, here, in his space. like you were his too.

"what did the poor fabric do to you?" you sorted through the clothes, seeing nothing wrong with most. they were all practical clothes, but none had noticeable holes or wear. he mumbled something, too low for you to catch it. "say that again?" he scratched his head and looked away, almost meek. "said they don't fit." ah, there was the problem. "that's okay. just means your muscles are too big." you tried to give a compliment, anything to get rid of the storms in his eyes. "nah. 've gotten fat." you put the shirt you were holding down with force, stomping over to where he had now taken a seat at his spare chair. you stepped between his legs, which opened easily for you. you gripped his chin and turned it towards you, forcing eye contact. "so what? just means you've been eating well, simon. nothing wrong with that."

he looked down, almost reminding you of a kicked puppy. "you don't care?" you weren't dating, yet, but you two had some sort of a romantic understanding. some acknowledgement of there being more, an exclusive connection between you two. "no. i like my men big. like when you can throw me around." he barked out a laugh, surprised at your admission. you smiled back, satisfied. getting a laugh out of him was 80% of the battle. "and these clothes are still good for something." his eyes were on you again, questioning.

you walked back to the bed, full of confidence now. turning to face him, you slowly grabbed the hem of your shirt, untucking it from your tactical pants. he wasn't wearing his mask, so you could see his mouth physically drop at the action. ever so slowly, you raised your arms, bringing your shirt with you. you tossed the shirt aside, standing in front of him with only your bra and pants on. his eyes were dark with desire and he made a move to stand up, but you commanded him with a sharp "sit." like a loyal guard dog, he lowered himself back into his chair, complete captivated.

turning back to the bed, you grabbed one of his outgrown sweatshirts and put it on. it smelled like him, that masculine scent tinged with the cologne he sometimes wore. "see?" you gestured to the sweatshirt, too big on you. "you just gave me a bunch of free clothes." he grunted, still fixated on the sweatshirt. his lack of response made you nervous. "what?" you asked. "give us a spin." you spun slowly, trying not to smile too much. god, the things this man does to you.

"'like seeing my last name on you."

now whose jaw was dropping?

[melobin]

behind the screen 𐙚 sungchan smau #19

✧ camgirl reader x roommate sungchan

✧ synopsis. in which sungchan discovers his favorite camgirl also happens to be his roommate

✧ chapter warnings. half smau half written. there is writing underneath the social media part !

✧ wc. 467

behind the screen masterlist

“god what am i doing”

“the right thing” chaewon’s voice echoed through your phone, you kicked your feet over the edge of the bed as you sat in the hotel room, impatiently waiting for chan to knock on the door.

“i’m nervous”

“that’s a good thing, i bet he’s just as nervous as you are”

“i hope” you sighed, heart rate barely slowing as you awaited his arrival.

there was something scarier about the fact he also lived nearby, it overwhelmed you that you’ve probably walked past him in the street or been behind him in the line at the supermarket and never realised it was him. you wondered how similar his real name would be to his twitter name, if he even used a fake name. nerves were catching up with you and you were sure that if you had the time, you would’ve ran home.

it was scary, meeting someone for the first time, but it was even scarier meeting a man you’d unintentionally developed feelings for online for the first time. you never really changed your personality when you became merci, simply making yourself appear more confident and extroverted for the benefit of your audience. you’d hoped he hadn’t imagined something completely different to who you really were and you could only wish he wouldn’t be disappointed when he opened the door and properly saw you.

“i should go and calm myself down before he arrives”

“go girl, i know this’ll go so well i can feel it” you could hear the smile on her face as she spoke, her excitement radiated through the phone as she said her goodbyes and hung up, leaving you in the echoing silence of the hotel room. the only thing that filled the silence was your heartbeat that you could feel through your ears, it was deafening. you began to hear every movement that was being made outside of the door, you attempted to calm yourself down as you prepared for the knock on the door.

the knock came a lot sooner than you had hoped. whilst being incredible excited to finally meet chan, the anxiety and the nerves never left you. especially as you approached the door. your hand felt sweaty as you placed it on the handle, almost slipping off of the metal as you turned the lock and opened the door.

nothing could’ve prepared you for who was standing on the other side, he seemed to feel the same. both of your eyes wide as you stared at each other in disbelief. you felt your heart drop to your stomach as he froze in front of you, it took you a few seconds to even find the strength to talk and even as you did, your voice came out quiet and shocked.

“sungchan?”

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[kisakis-boyfriend]

on my knees begging and sobbing for more freminet content

maybe afab!freminet x vampire!reader ??? owo

Freminet x vampire reader

Author's Note: As usual, Freminet is 20+ — Woohoo more vampire HCs!! I hope you enjoy these, dear anon :D

Pairings: Freminet x reader

Warnings: Male!reader, dom/top!reader, vampire!reader, sub/bottom!Freminet, trans Freminet, consuming blood, biting, hair pulling, eating out, fluff

Oh this little cutie...he's so so shy and timid, you truly want to eat him up

Vampires are predators, and the way that Freminet instinctually tried to escape when your sharp fangs went to pierce his skin for the first time set your own instincts in motion

Whenever you both felt a bit more playful he would take advantage of these instincts:

“Run all you like, little one. We both know who's faster~” You purred dangerously, stalking after your beloved as he turned the corner in your large abode. Running down yet another hallway with his heart pounding in his eardrums from the excitement of this little game you both liked to play. The familiar clicking of your footsteps on the wooden floors pulled his full attention behind him, though the human had no time to react as a strong hand reached out and yanked his frail body backwards by his hair

“See? I told you running was useless. What will you do now, darling?” Freminet always found your voice extra sexy when you hunted and inevitably caught him, whimpering as your breath fanned against his sensitive ears

The human grasped at your arm, begging for you to claim what was rightfully yours. “Ah! N-no please...I'm sorry...I'll let you bite me, I-I promise I'll b-be good now...” Freminet stammered, pressing back against your chest

While the young blond was fearful when you first met, he soon grew to adore you just as much as you adored him

The way you treat him gently and kindly, helping him during conversations when his social anxiety acts up, sends his heart aflutter

Freminet viewed himself as weak and even useless sometimes, but you knew that those things weren't true. You helped him speak of himself a bit more kindly, praising his efforts and ingraining positivity into his pretty little head whenever possible

The human was especially insecure about what existed in between his legs, or rather...what didn't

But, as usual, you couldn't have that. What kind of lover would you be if you let your darling think of himself so poorly?

“Oooohh~ Oh y/n... d-don't tease me like– Ah!” Freminet gasped as your lips connected with the fragile skin on his thigh again. Another bruise blooming on the surface from your harsh sucking

“Sorry, baby. I can't help it, I just love your thighs so much~” You whispered against his skin, trailing feather-soft kisses upwards until you reached the area around his entrance, giving his cunt a few kitten licks while he mewled in embarrassment

Freminet bucked into your mouth as you began licking and sucking on his sensitive pussy, lapping up the slick dripping out the longer you teased him. Using your thumb and forefinger to spread his lips apart, your tongue dipped fully inside of your lover's heat, penetrating him as a moan escaped your lips. It was a well known fact that human blood tasted delicious, or else your kind wouldn't so eagerly feed from them, but who knew that a human's other fluids could taste this good too?

“Mmm~ Angel, you are so amazing. You know that?” The compliment caught Freminet by surprise, earning a squeak of embarrassment in return while he turned his head to the side as an attempt to hide the growing blush on his freckled cheeks. The reaction caused you to chuckle, swiftly returning to devouring the adorable man's pussy, using your fingers to pinch and rub at the puffy clit just above his entrance. Your tongue continued exploring the wet hole long after Freminet had cum, graciously tasting every drop that he provided for you, even as painfully pleasant overstimulation kicked in

Human blood is similar to any food or drink that they would consume; everyone has their own distinct flavor profile, even amongst the same blood type

Freminet's blood is crisp, refreshing, and slightly cooler than most humans' tend to be (perhaps due to his cryo affinity?)

Though he is a more timid individual, he oh so enjoys your feeding sessions. Sometimes he even begs you to bite down or suck harder, clawing at your back and leaving angry red scratches on your skin

The aphrodisiac that vampires inject with their bite turns Freminet into the most adorable whimpering mess, begging to take your cock as if he needs it to survive

And you happily give into his desires~

If Freminet begs you to pound him against the wall or bend him over something, you do just that

If Freminet begs you to fill his cunt with cum until it's gushing out around your dick, you do just that

If Freminet begs you to pull his hair, slap him, spank him, or spit on/in him, you do just that

Your human is just too precious. You're always trying to indulge in his kinky requests, eager to be a good master for the boy

Especially because, after it's all over, you're the one who gets to soothe him. Singing his praises while you caress his darling little body, kissing him breathless while his pretty blue eyes flutter closed, falling into a content deep sleep

Reblogs are extremely appreciated <3

[hollowistheworld]

Been thinking about Good Omens and it occurs to me that we, the audience, have a very different view of Aziraphale and Crowley than most of the people they know. We know theyre incompetent as shit and invented quiet quitting before it was cool, but their coworkers?

Crowley took credit for the Spanish Inquisition and WWII. He was kicking around in Paris during the French Revolution, so he probably got credit for that too. As far as Hell knows, he killed Job's goats and kids with great relish. He tempted Jesus. He has an angelic nemesis (how many demons can say that, hmm?). He dropped a bomb on a church. He made a freeway that's a giant sigil of evil. Satan calls him up personally to tell him he's doing a great job. He gets to raise the anti-christ. He regularly rolls his eyes at Dukes of Hell.

And, as his nemesis, Aziraphale's rep in Heaven has got to be just as good, he's just got too much social anxiety to notice. He's the only thing stopping the super evil, super competent Crowley from completely taking over. He served as a knight of the Round Table. He double-crossed Nazi spies. He hid in plain sight alongside a solider of Hell to try to prevent Armageddon (they didn't want him to succeed but the attempt was so brave, and such great PR!). The Supreme Archangel Gabriel regularly checks in on him, just to keep him in the loop (I always get the impression pre-Armageddon Gabriel thinks he and Aziraphale are buddies).

The suspicion they might not be on the up-and-up didn't really start until Michael went through the files, mere hours before they stopped the apocalypse. Imagine clocking into work for what's supposed to be The biggest thing that'll ever happen, but it gets canceled and then you're told it's because the guy who holds the record for most times named Employee of the Month has been selling company secrets and falsifying records. He's lied about literally everything he's ever done. You'd go insane.

[garpond]

happy birthday to neil young here are some of my favorite things about him

-by the age of 20 he had owned 3 different used hearses, all of which experienced some form of extreme mechanical failure that caused him to have to get rid of them

-in buffalo springfield whenever he had to go out on a date with a girl he'd tell his friends about it beforehand so that they could interrupt the date to tell him he needed to be somewhere and was late so that he could be allowed to leave

-hated going in grocery stores because he would get overstimulated and have to leave

-didn't like how the first pressing of Comes A Time sounded so he bought 200,000 of the first copies of it and used them as shingles for a barn roof

-when one of his tour buses was destroyed (i forget how) he had it brought to his ranch and buried on the property like a beloved family pet

-his early ambition before music was to be a chicken farmer

-when he and carrie snodgress where dating she'd have a ton of people over sometimes and it gave him anxiety so one evening he decided to open the living room window and crawl out of it to get away from people instead of walking through the room to get to the door because apparently he couldn't wait that long and everyone saw it

-another time he randomly showed up at a neighbors' house and they didn't really know why he dropped in all of the sudden because he wasn't very social and it turns out it was because his manager had set up a meeting for him with the band America and he didn't want to do it so he was hiding

-during buffalo springfield he would hide in peoples closets a lot

-once he was guitar shopping with stephen stills and when he was offering on a guitar stephen offered more money on it to try and get it and it pissed him off so he started bidding higher to kick off a bidding war between then and once it was up to a ridiculous amount of money he just dropped it and was like ok you win lol ! and stephen had to pay an insane amount of money for it

-during one filmed interview with MTV or something he decided to fuck with them by adjusting the position of his hat super slightly every couple seconds so that when they cut the footage together and shifted things out of order it would look confusingly different every time

-during the recording of deja vu he lived by himself in a motel but he brought his 2 pet bush babies (named Harriet and Speedy) and they scared the shit out of Graham Nash

-gave a stranger he met like a week ago unrestricted access to his finances because the guy claimed he was going to help him buy a boat and the guy ended up stealing a couple thousand dollars

-during last buffalo springfield concert he was the only person who was not even remotely sad and on the way home jim messina was literally crying and neil was just like :] the whole way

-one year on his birthday at the ranch there was going to be a party and it was a tradition to have a bonfire at it so he went out into the woods to get sticks for it but somehow managed to grab a bunch of poison oak and it was used at the fire and after that he was not allowed to gather bonfire sticks anymore

-while filming the lincvolt documentary he met a trans woman and when he was interviewing her to ask for her opinion about the car she told him that what he was doing with it was a big change and he should probably ask for the car's permission to do it and he actually did do this later

-"everybodys rockin" originated as an r/maliciouscompliance type of project because while he was on geffen records Old Ways was rejected and the label asked for a "rock and roll album" and this was his response to that

-the infamous Eat A Peach incident

-there is much more but this is all i can come up with rn

[ninesbey0nd]

Forbidden Waltz | Kang Yeosang

SYNOPSIS. Your university is quite well renowned for its creative and abstract programs, so it was no surprise that the majority of the students were pursuing a profession in arts. There was a focus in art, film, dance, drama, music, you could go on. These departments, however, enforced an unspoken, exclusive clique social norm. You never understood it. Thus, the student body was quite split based on their major.

PAIRING. Dance Major! Yeosang x Art Major! Reader (afab)

GENRE. enemies to lovers, mutual pining, edgy Yeosang, smut, Dom! Yeosang

WARNINGS. Profanity, NSFW, bullying themes, unprotected sex (wrap ya willy!), penetrative sex, fingering, oral (giving) semi public sex (?)

if you wanna be added to my tag list lmk! :) <3

Reqs are open!

Ever since freshman orientation, you remembered that one man’s stupid fucking face

Kang Yeosang

He was one of the most talented dancers to enter the university's program, being consistently scouted and recruited from various labels and companies

Despite this, he never paid attention to any of the offers he received

He would always gloat about how he valued the college experience more than putting himself out there for fame

You couldn't stand him. He was so full of himself.

Sure, you would admit that he was good-looking. Maybe more like exceptionally good-looking, but you would never admit that aloud

He already had the entire student body whipped for him. Not only was he phenomenal at dance but he had a charismatic personality as well

He was a magnet for people, that was for sure

quickly climbing the social hierarchy at the school, and of course, being in a completely different field of study had the two of you barely seeing one another

which was a good thing, you thought

You didn't know what it was, but something about him really bothered you

He always presented himself as a model student, he wouldn’t take anything less than perfect

In addition, he seemed to have no qualms with anyone, including departments outside of dance

He was odd, that was for sure

You swore this kid was some sort of machine from what you heard about him, it seemed too good to be true

And you were right

You have to walk past the dance department to reach your section of the art building

A practice room door is cracked open and you hear someone… punching a wall?

You poked your head in and saw none other than Yeosang slumped against the mirror, head held in his hands

“I fucking hate this goddamn school I hate all these annoying ass dickheads I can’t wait to get the fuck out of here.”

Holy shit.

Mr. Perfect wasn't so perfect anymore

You were lost in your own wave of thoughts until you noticed Yeosang looking directly at you, eyes narrowed to points

“What the fuck do you want?”

He is not having it.

Who does this art nerd think they are? invading his practice room like it's some kind of open house.

“Get the fuck out,” he pulled himself upward and took a few steps toward the door where you stood

Your lips flatten into a tight line. “Sorry, sorry I’m going—,” You pulled yourself away from the door and slammed it shut

Fuck.

He was not happy.

You knew the power he held on campus too

Anxiety hit you like a bus.

What if he told people that you were a creep?? What if he got the art department to turn on you??

You vigorously shook your head, praying that nothing would come from that interaction

boy were you wrong

You swore you never saw this man on campus and now suddenly you see him everywhere??

Wherever you go— the library, dining hall, and in the unfortunately shared building between art and dance — he is always right behind you

It got to a point where you would purposefully show up early or late to places to avoid spotting the all-too-familiar brunette.

That was until he had you cornered in your art room.

“What are you doing here?” You spun around, dropping the brush in your hands and nearly kicking your easel over

“You don’t belong here—“

Yeosang slammed the studio door behind him, rattling your art supplies on the table.

You nearly jumped a foot into the air

“What the fuck!”

He simply folded his arms over his chest and leaned his body against the doorframe.

“I thought it’d do you well to have a taste of your own actions,” He yawned, his gaze followed your movements in an almost predatory manner.

“Are you serious— it was a mistake! I never meant to go into your dumbass dance studio,” you scoffed, returning your focus to the painting in front of you.

As you swiped your brush across the textured canvas, doing your best to avoid the pair of eyes burning into the back of your head, you failed to notice a shadow looming over your figure.

“Hmm, maybe you are talented after all.” Yeosang’s breath fanned across the nape of your neck, tickling your skin softly.

You leaped out of your seat, tripping and nearly knocking everything over in front of you had you not saved yourself on a nearby counter.

“Seriously Yeosang, get out.” You hissed with disdain. “I can’t focus on getting anything done when you’re—“

He advanced toward you, step by step.

You hadn’t realized how close he had gotten to you until your back hit the edge of the counter.

shit

His hands caged you against the table and you felt him tilt his head down toward you

"Hm?" His eyes raked down your body as his head leaned to the side

“Whats wrong artsy?” He wore a shit eating grin displayed across his lips.

“Yeosang Im not playing around right now I need to—!”

You were cut short as his lips crashed against yours. His hands moved from the counter to your waist, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

You found yourself frozen, before you melted into his touch.

What has gotten into you?

He pulled away for a split second to take a breath, his gaze resting on your lips.

“I didn’t take you as a rule breaker,” He chuckled lowly, his hand traveling to the side of your waist.

You hated to admit it, but something inside of you was actually enjoying this.

A dance and art student?? getting together?? never heard of.

Let alone in the middle of an art studio.

“Yeo—“

His hands gripped your sides and he lifted you onto the counter, boxing you in with his arms.

“Hmm?” He looked up at you, his eyes flashing with mischief.

“We’re in an art atudio,” you hesitated, shifting your weight around.

“And?” He leaned forward, causing you to lean backward on your hands.

“I— Isn’t this a little much?” Your eyes darted around the room, inspecting the entrances and windows.

“Not if we make this quick,” Yeosang grins up at you.

His hands make their way down to the waistband of your bottoms. His eyes meet yours, waiting for any hesitation or uncertainty.

“Y—You can.” You managed to sputter out, turning away from his gaze.

Despite looking away you could practically feel him smirking.

His fingers dipped up under your shirt, the tips of his fingers grazing over your waist before dipping down and hooking onto your waistband.

You lift yourself up slightly, allowing him to better remove the article of clothing.

“That’s my girl,” he cooed, slipping your bottoms off your ankles before tossing it aside.

“Yeo,” you whispered in a hushed tone, squeezing your fists beside you.

What a tease.

His fingers travel down your stomach to the innermost part of your thighs, tracing delicate patterns along your skin.

You whined in response, tensing your legs together as if to create some sort of friction.

His hands continue kneading your thighs until you feel a finger graze your slit.

You let out a soft moan in response, eliciting a pleased hum from Yeosang.

He teases your entrance, spreading your arousal around before plunging a finger inside of you.

You let out a soft moan, “Yeo—“

Your voice catches in your throat when he starts pumping in and out of you, curling his finger upward with his movements.

Your hands fly to grip the table beneath you and you stifled the sounds that threatened to escape past your lips.

He slips a second finger inside you, his movements quickening with each stroke.

He grins up toward you, a seemingly sweet face in contrast to what his hands were doing to you.

“You’re gonna have to be quiet if you don’t wanna get caught,” he leaned over you before sliding his fingers out of you and guiding you off the counter.

His hand caressed the side of your face before he began to lower the waist band of his pants.

You slowly sunk to your knees, your hands over taking his to lower his pants down beneath his hips.

All that was left was his boxers, and you could practically see the outline of his hard on

Your fingers hooked into the waistband of his boxers before sliding them down his thighs

Holy fuck

You wrap your fingers around his length, stroking him a few times before you engulf him with your lips

He lets out a low groan of satisfaction, his hand traveling down to cup your cheek

You began bobbing your head down his length, and Yeosang’s head lulled back

“You’re doing so well for me,” he whispered, looking down at you to meet your gaze.

Your eyes met his as you kept up with your pace

Yeosang fisted your hair, guiding your head down his length when a sharp knock to the door alerted you both

You pulled away from him immediately, scrambling backward to put distance between the two of you

The door handle jiggled, and to your relief it had been locked

Yeosang chuckled silently, his gaze shifting from the door back to your form on the floor

“What, did you think I’d be so careless?”

“Now, let’s get back to where we left off.”

[f0point5]

And I feel perfectly fine

Companion piece to the Max Verstappen x bestfriend!reader social media au

✨Set after Y/N’s first date with Elliot✨

A/N: I’m ALIVE! I took a long break because I had my dad’s wedding and then Christmas and also because I have BIG anxiety about posting these writing pieces lol so every time I thought about posting I was like no these suck. But I really miss this blog and the smau so…we move. I hope you guys enjoy these. If you don’t…mind ya business and pretend they never happened haha, I really hope they don’t ruin the smau for anyone! Anyway…enjoy…I hope

You take your shoes off in the taxi and step straight out onto the granite paving outside the building, your Mach&Mach heels in hand. It’s a nice evening, you think to yourself as you enjoy the warm breeze and the faint scent of sea air. I had a nice evening, you think as an afterthought.

The concierge greets you with a smile, asking how your night was, and you stumble over the answer. He doesn’t notice and doesn’t care, bidding you a perfunctory goodnight as you pad through the lobby to the lifts. You miss the lifts from the old building, with the scratched and worn wood panelling. These are all sleek and cold and the mirrors are some treated glass that makes everything look glum. It’s the mirror, you tell yourself when you catch sight of your own reflection as the lift lurches up towards the penthouse.

You fidget on your way up, thinking what you’ll tell him about your evening when he asks, because you know he will. Just like you know you’ll have to avoid his running shoes right by the door. Just like you know he’ll be awake, on the sim or doing some last minute packing. You know either way he’ll be looking for his old blue and white fleece. You know you’ll lie and say you don’t know where it is and you know he’ll believe you.

It’s the first time all night you’ve felt even a little nervous, and it’s a strangely addicting nausea.

The first thing that happens when you set foot inside the dimly lit hallway is that you step on a running shoe. You stumble forward and the shoe slips out from under you, flying into a cat, you suppose, judging by the cartoonish meow that emirates from somewhere behind you.

“Enfant désordonné,” you mutter as you lad down the hallway towards the living room, dropping your own shoes as you go. “C'est comme vivre avec un enfant en bas âge.”

“Hello,” he calls to you, and you don’t mind that he doesn’t even look up from the sim. You prefer it, even. It makes the fact that you were out without him seem more normal, though it isn’t. You can’t remember the last time you were out without him when he was home.

You wander over to the hulking set up, trying to figure out what track he’s driving. Nordschleife, you realise when he flies through the banked corner. You glance down at him, lit up in blue by the light of the screen, his normally soft features contorted into the hard lines of concentration, eyes shuttered and focused. Putting a hand on his head, you gently carding your fingers through his hair just once, and he loses the rear for a second, correcting himself with a click of his tongue. He says something rude in Dutch under his breath and you laugh at him, reaching down to grab a drink from his mini fridge before heading over to the couch and turning on the TV.

For a while it’s like any other evening.

Eventually you see the screens go black in the corner of your eye and he frog leaps out of his sim rig before heaving over to sit beside you.

“What are we watching?” Max asks, cracking his knuckles as he kicks his feet up.

“The decay of humanity,” you answer with a snort. “Love Island Australia,”

He laughs, his UV glasses sliding down his nose a little. Your eyes linger on him as he fixes them. You’ve teased him about them relentlessly, and you’d never admit it, but you like them.

Wordlessly, you both shift so that he’s lying on the corner of the couch and you’re curled up next to him, his cheek resting against the crown of your head so that you can feel when he finally speaks.

“How was dinner?” He asks during the advert break, the words mumbled into your hair.

“Good. I had lobster Thermidor,” you tell him, getting only a hum in response. “I saw a girl from school at the restaurant, too. I hated her at school, she was so…she used a crocodile birkin to carry her PE clothes,”

This means nothing to him, but you feel his cheek lift in a smile as he hums just to prove he’s listening.

You stay quiet for a while, muscles unwinding to the best of Max’s steady breathing. He wants to ask, the question is lingering unsaid in the small space between your bodies. You know because last time it was you that had questions. You wonder if he feels now like you did then - unsettled and selfish, scared to ask the question because you didn’t know what you wanted the answer to be.

There’s a part of you that wants to tell him how nice it was to discuss Proust and Dostoyevsky, and how nice it was to be able to go to a fish restaurant, how no one filmed you or asked for your picture. There’s a part of you that wants to tell him all the painful truths to make up for the fact that you hated that he wasn’t there, and that somehow that feels like his fault. But you don’t. Because even though you know a petty vindictive nature all but colours your blood, you try to be kinder with Max.

“He’s nice,” you say, telling yourself you’re too tired to say more even though deep down you’re not sure there’s more to say.

“Good.”

“He knows about wine pairings, and art,” you say with soft smile that he can’t see, “and he can actually share a dessert with me all year round without worrying about the calories,”

“Ah, well, you have to marry him then,” Max says sardonically, his shoulder shifting underneath you like a nudge. “Where’s the ring? It better be big,”

He reaches for your left hand, thumb sliding along your ringer as he pretends to inspect it. You jostle him with a scoff, trying to pull away but he squeezes gently, his fingers tangling with yours for a few seconds before he lets go.

The adverts end and the show comes back on. Within seconds, you feel your body begin to fall into a sleepy oblivion. Yeah, you think to yourself, this is a nice evening.

Tag list

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[masked-tornado]

All about Allen Alagona

Overview:

Basics

Allen's backstory

Allen's personality

Allen's relationships

Allen's relationship with Deuce

Allen & blot

Allen's previous life

Allen's magic

Fun facts

OFFICIAL ALLEN X DEUCE POSTS:

1 // 2 // 3

1. Basics

Allen is a Ramshackle freshman who comes from another world (¾ Italian, ¼ Japanese) and "has no magic".

He's an aspiring illustrator and musician who doesn't seem to have success no matter how hard he tries. Whenever he attempted to gain attention on the internet before, all he ever received was ignorance and hate. Nowadays, he's too scared to try again.

2. Allen's backstory

Allen is an intersex boy and was born with lower testosterone levels as well as a mostly "female" outward anatomy.

Having suffered from a genetic anxiety disorder since his childhood, Allen was never really able to enjoy things. Once he got into school, he was mostly used for his good grades and ignored otherwise.

However, things got much worse when puberty started: Allen's body was feminine and muscular at the same time, and he towered over his classmates. His resting bitch face didn't help with people finding him intimidating and scary... and soon, he was not only ignored, but actively avoided and made fun of. He got pushed around, insulted, and told that "a freak like him" could never be loved. Nobody invited him to hang out, people pretended to have crushes on him in order to fool him, and all the "friends" he ever had badmouthed him behind his back.

Allen couldn't tell anyone about how hurt he was — boys weren't supposed to cry and act all whiny, and he would prove that he was indeed a boy by being all tough.

Trying to escape from the bullying at school, Allen put all of his feelings into art instead — a thing he was told he was "gifted" at — and started sharing it on social media. However, as he watched other artists blow up and build entire fanbases, absolutely nothing happened to him; he was either ignored or insulted for his art, seemingly never being good enough to earn compliments. Combined with the fact that Allen compared himself with other artists a lot, he slowly started losing confidence in the one thing he enjoyed and thought he was skilled at.

That wasn't the only thing Allen "wasn't good enough" for. As he got older, the topics at school progressively got harder, and the model student started struggling with them a little. His grades dropped from As to As and Bs, and that was somehow already enough for his teachers to blame him. "What's wrong?", "I expected better from you" and "stop slacking" were just some of the things Allen had to hear from them. He began studying even more in an attempt to satisfy them and prove his worth to himself, but nothing seemed to work out, and instead, it all led to Allen having a burnout.

At this point, Allen started believing that he was possessed. How could one single person have so much bad luck and be hated this much solely for trying to live his life...?

...and why was he even trying when he was never good enough for anyone anyway?

It was then that Allen decided to give up on everything. His grades never satisfied his teachers no matter how well he did, so why should he work for them at all? His gentle personality was never appreciated, so why should he be kind? Fights hurt him, so why shouldn't he fight back?

Allen slowly became a delinquent. He started skipping class almost every day, finally dared to cuss, and got into lots of verbal fights with the people who formerly bullied him. Those who already feared Allen before were now absolutely terrified of him, and soon, rumors about an actual possession started spreading.

The headmaster couldn't stand watching the process of one of her most valuable honor students turning into a delinquent and eventually kicked Allen out of school for his shenanigans.

Allen knew he wouldn't attend a school ever again due to what it had done to his health, but at the same time, he was in desperate need of that graduation if he ever wanted to have a proper job. He tried to blackmail the headmaster into giving him his graduation by threatening to expose the school for how they covered bullying and even allowed teachers to be bullies, but ultimately, Allen got nothing out of it.

He had nothing but his parents now. He had no friends, no confidence, no future. He was likely possessed, doomed by the universe.

Allen lost the sparkle in his eye; he wanted nothing more than to disappear. But the thought of his parents' grief forced him to stay alive. Every day was torture and reminded Allen of how much of a failure he was, and he progressively grew angrier...

...until he started imagining himself in music videos every time he listened to songs.

That was when Allen had an idea. He couldn't be violent, so why not channel all of his hatred and wrath into lyrics and make his own music? This time, he wouldn't post anything online in a long time, instead taking things slow.

Things slowly got a little better — Allen was able to start a hormone therapy, dyed his hair, changed his overall appearance, disassociated himself from his old self, and learned to control his anger through writing and other methods he figured out for himself. However, the emptiness, anxiety and hopelessness remained, and Allen was stuck with depression.

Just the day when Allen wanted to finally buy a software to produce music with, he woke up in a coffin in a strange world...

3. Allen's personality

Allen is widely known to be friendly, lowkey, mature, calm and helpful. People admire him for his good looks and determination, and some even consider him to be perfect due to the fact that he is additionally "good at everything". He also avoids fights and more heated discussions and instead serves as a mediator most of the time, earning him a fair amount of respect at NRC.

Allen has an easy time getting along with people and, while he rarely engages in deep conversations, generally enjoys talking and spending time with others, even if he's not close to them.

The truth: this is a mask.

Allen is an extremely flawed person but skilled at hiding it. He doesn't do anything he's bad at in public, only voices reasonable opinions, uses white lies in order to not accidentally hurt people, and hides all of his mental struggles as much as possible.

Not only does the real Allen envy everyone who is in some way more successful or "better" at something than him, but he has also developed a superiority complex to cope with his insecurities. He even feels this way towards some of his friends, yet doesn't dare to speak up on it out of fear of ending up all alone again.

The real Allen writes aggressive songs, has violent thoughts, and hates himself with a burning passion. His trauma and insecurities always get the better of him, and Allen still believes that he's ugly, worthless and not deserving of love despite being one of the most popular people at NRC.

The real Allen also doesn't care about the problems of people and gets impatient extremely quickly (Deuce is an exception — Allen cares about him a lot and is patient with him — as well as other people who have genuinely earned Allen's trust). His primary motivation for helping with bigger issues around the school is to draw attention to himself and finally receive praise.

Allen's biggest fear is to be lonely, abandoned and ignored, which is why he does his best to hide all of his flaws and true opinions on people — he doesn't want to risk being disliked now that he's finally appreciated somewhere.

The only person who knows the real Allen (and who he is 100% honest to) is Deuce, who doesn't judge him at all and instead understands him.

4. Allen's relationships

5. Allen's relationship with Deuce

Ever since day one, they've been best friends who always know what the other is thinking/feeling and do almost everything together.

Having the same experiences in a mirrored way, Allen and Deuce are able to understand each other better than anyone else could and naturally help each other because of it. Allen is able to assist Deuce with studying while making sure that he doesn't overwork himself and provides him with healthy outlets for his delinquent tendencies, which helps Deuce mature and grow calmer. Instead of trying to change Deuce, Allen helps him see the good in his flaws and use them to Deuce's advantage while fully supporting his goals and making sure that Deuce doesn't lose himself. Deuce, on the other hand, simply loves and admires Allen the way he is, which helps Allen slowly accept himself more. Being around someone who's so similar to himself and genuinely supports, understands and adores him also manages to fill the void in Allen's heart at least a bit.

Due to Allen's tough vibes, determined personality, intelligence and pretty appearance, Deuce fell for him extremely quickly (it was basically love at first sight for him). Allen fell for Deuce during book 4 when he realized just how much he missed the boy. After hesitating with a confession for a long time due to how it could possibly affect their friendship, Allen and Deuce eventually start dating some time after book 7.

Before I go on an eternal ramble about these two, here are some posts from my Deuce x Allen blog explaining their relationship further:

How they help each other

Why I ship them

Relationship timeline

Facts about them

6. Allen & blot

Allen feels his body get weaker and is somewhat out of touch with it in Twisted Wonderland. At first, he isn't aware of what the reason might be, but things resolve themselves... in the worst way possible.

During every breakdown occuring after these symptoms, a part of Allen's body changes. At first, he merely cries black tears, but then his hair turns another color, followed by another body part every time... until Allen is fully convinced that his demon is slowly taking over.

These occurrences are, in fact, mini overblots building up to Allen's first proper overblot, in which he assumes the form of a demon prince with fire-based magic and massive claws.

Due to his overall physical and mental weakness as well as the fact that he's not from Twisted Wonderland, blot affects Allen extremely easily and in a different way than with mages.

But why can he accumulate blot if he's not a mage himself? Well...

7. Allen's previous life

Unbeknownst to everyone, Allen is the reincarnation of Asterope, an infamous mage from Twisted Wonderland.

Asterope was an exceptional mage said to have been blessed who had weather-based powers but couldn't fully control them due to his impulsive personality. As a result, he accidentally slaughtered a village through a tornado in a fit of rage caused by being excluded and bullied, and became a wanted criminal as a result. He ran away, assumed the identity of "Alan" and joined the Silver Owls, only to be caught when he found out about his sole friend's death and accidentally caused another tornado. Asterope then got executed, and to this day, he's known as nothing but a villain.

Nobody is aware that Allen is Asterope's reincarnation and supposed to fix his legacy until Allen dies after being stabbed during a friend's overblot. A storm is raging outside the school during the entirety of Allen being in a critical state and eventually dying. While his body is already dead, Allen's mind intensely relives the moments from both his current life and the one he had as Asterope. Ironically, his strong blot accumulation and Asterope's desire for wanting his legacy to be fixed through his "successor" eventually bring Allen back to life, leaving him with mere permanent tattoos... and the ability to use magic.

Shortly before Allen awakens, Asterope speaks through him, talking about his legacy. Later on, Allen and his friends do their best to figure out what exactly happened.

8. Allen's magic

Allen has fairly little control over his everyday magic due to both his mood swings and the fact that he's entirely new to this kind of thing. However, he is eager to learn and improve so he can hopefully reach an average skill level.

On the other hand, Allen's Unique Magic is incredibly powerful and can only be countered by the strongest of mages when they're concentrated. "The Calm Before the Storm" traps a being in a tornado that drains them of all their physical and mental energy, often causing the person in question to pass out. It can be used on living creatures from all worlds.

Fun fact: Allen discovers his Unique Magic before he can use normal magic at all.

9. Fun facts

Allen is three days older than Ace.

Allen is good with animals and children.

Allen's natural hair color is black.

Allen is considered to be one of the prettiest people at NRC, but isn't aware of this.

Allen collects plushies and Deuce gifts them to him regularly.

Allen loves Shiba Inus.

Allen likes motorcycles and blastcycles.

Allen is an only child.

Allen loves his parents but is distant from the rest of his family.

Allen has photographic memory.

Allen eats instant noodles a lot.

Allen can't cook, but is willing to learn how to cook egg dishes for Deuce.

Allen doesn't have a lot of stamina.

Allen has problems falling asleep.

Allen is generally bad at sports, but can run fastly and dance very well. He does, however, suck at ballroom dance.

Allen is often called a twink, and he's very curvy for a skinny guy.

Allen has long eyelashes.

Allen received chest surgery during book 5 and now has scars.

Allen prefers coffee over tea.

Allen dislikes pastries.

[listofwhyyouloveher]

What would get the gang mad? (Friendship and relationships wise)

Summary: What would get the gang mad

Warnings:none

Author's Note: none

PONYBOY CURTIS

Pony is a little more lax about stuff like this but being loud in places where you're supposed to be quiet is one of his pet peeves

He also hates when his girl messes around with other guys to make him "jealous", he just finds it odd and annoying

He will not tolerate hate to his family and the gang, those are the people he's been through thick and thin, to him its bros before hoe's

If you make fun of people less fortunate than you, he knows what it feels like to be broke and lonely and he can't stand that

JOHNNY CADE

Johnny hates, just like Ponyboy, when people are loud when they're supposed to be quiet, not only is it because he likes quiet but also because he has a tinge of social anxiety

He hates people who get into fights with people who are too weak or too strong, don't pick on people you can't handle and people who can't defend themselves

Johnny also hates when you make fun of his eating habits, it's not every day he gets to eat, let him enjoy it.

Lastly, Johnny hates when his girl puts herself down to garner attention, he's just so over the "self-loathing" shit

SODAPOP CURTIS

Soda dislikes when you hurt his ego, he's spent years building it up and had to really do some self care after his parents died, having you put him down is really tough

Soda cannot stand when you put down his gang and especially Steve and Pony, his gang is his ride or die.

Sodapop doesn't like when you make fun of greasers clothes and hair, not everyone has enough money for that

Lastly he hates when his girl gets overprotective and jealous too easily, lots of girls come up to him because of his looks don't give him hell because of it

STEVE RANDLE

Steve has very few things he gets mad at one thing is if you have no respect for his parents and the Curtis's parents

If you make fun of dead people, what the hell, he was really hurt when the Curtis parents died, it's just too much for him

Something he'd find mildly annoying is If you use those nicknames where you add a y to the end of their name, i.e. "stevey". He's not a kid

If you annoy him while he eats he's gonna get so mad at you, just let the man eat for God's sake.

TWO-BIT MATHEWS

Starting off strong, Two CANNOT stand hate to his sister. That's his goddamn family

And if you don't laugh at his jokes he's going to get mildly upset, he put his heart and soul into that

He won't listen to any sort of mickey mouse hate either, you either watch it with him or get out

Please do not make fun of him for his greaser life, he tries his best to give his sister a life where she's happy but it's so rough on him

DARRY CURTIS

Don't you EVER make fun of his parents, NEVER. He's gonna kick you out right away, you'll never be welcomed back

Be kind to Pony and Soda, don't teach them bad things, he's spent so long trying to raise them good

Don't tell him he would've been better off not dropping out or anything thing like that, it's too harsh because he misses school sometimes

Be gentle with him too, his feelings are often disregarded and he's putting other first, make him feel special

DALLAS WINSTON

Don't get too clingy and don't expect him to treat you good, he'll get pissed if you act like he's supposed to be the best boyfriend

Don't make fun of his childhood, he went through a lot and he isn't ready to face it all, instead he bottles it up

Don't get protective and jealous all the time, he hates feeling like he's in a cage, especially in relationships

Don't try and pick a fight with him either, he's always going to win and with each fight he likes you a little less.

[berylcups]

Abbachio x stoner! Fem (if not fem, afab gender neutral) reader, nsfw one shot maybe? Where Abbachios sort of disgusted with them smoking and frying their brain and shows them that there’s other ways to relieve stress.

if you as a writer don’t smoke or condone it, then it’s up to you which “bad” habit Leone will be replacing with sex a better treatment :)

Hey there! Sorry it took so long! I took my time on this one and put my entire ✨PUSSY✨ into this work. I'm kinda rusty with my smut so I hope its good enough! Either way I hope you enjoy! 💜 Beryl

Abbacchio x Stoner!Reader- Stress Relief

CW: Weed (obviously), Self harm mention, PIV, Masturbation, Technically a FEM reader fic but can be gender neutral if you ignore 1 or 2 petnames, drinking mention, binge eating mention

Notes: Ooooh boy @_@ its been a while since I've done some smut! I hope its worth the work I put into it! Don't worry if you smoke weed or don't! Abba loves you regardless!! Bucci though...you better run. hes gonna cry as he fights you for having DRUGS. No he doesn't care its an herb. Hes going mom mode on your ass. :'( Minors DNI and everyone enjoy!

Everyone has their vexes and vices. Some people do drugs, some binge eat, some binge drink, some self harm, some chain smoke, and some blaze it. You preferred to blaze it. You tried other methods to self soothe but they never seemed to work out like weed did. Harming left scars, eating gave bellyaches, and drinking gave hangovers… you just can’t seem to win. Nothing compared to the forbidden herb that gently numbed your mind and made you stop worrying about the world around you for a few hours.

You took a deep drag of your joint and held it in until you heard the door to the balcony open up.

“Sniff sniff…ugh Y/N. You seriously smoking that shit?” Abbacchio crinkled his nose in disgust of the herbal smell.

“Uh, yeah… I’m smoking outside so you can’t exactly bitch.” You said exhaling a small cloud. “If Bucciarati has a problem with my habit he can come kick my ass.” 

“I’m not going to snitch on you but he will beyond pissed knowing your using that stuff.” He scolded. “You’re better than this. Put it out and flush your stash if you don’t want him to find out. That shit is going to fry your brain.” He ordered.

“Sigh…don’t you know I don’t have a brain?” You said rubbing the joint out on the railing and went back inside with him to the restroom and sat on the end of the tub. 

“Show me your stash.” He ordered.

You groaned and pulled a baggie out of your pocket with a few good sized nuggets.

“Now flush it.” He ordered.

“What are you? My dad? You’re only like a few years older than me.” You protested.

“Do it brat.”

You sighed, resigning to your fate. You were going to lose that good amount you acquired.  You dropped the contents into the toilet and flushed.

“Happy..?” You glared up at him.

“Not really… Im concerned why you would even need that in the first place.” He said.

“You wouldn’t get it…” you sighed looking down away from him. 

“I’m a recovering alcoholic. And I have a pretty checkered past… if you let me in, I’m sure we’ll be able to understand each other.” He said softening his tone. “Let’s go to my room and talk it out.” 

You looked up to see his hand raised out towards you. You were hesitant but decided to trust him and took it, being led to his room and sat on the end of his bed.

Normally this would make you feel awkward but feeling the high took away some of that social anxiety. 

“So…I guess you want to know why I’m doing stupid shit. Right?” You asked. “It’s a lot better than what I used to do- and I tried other things. They just didn’t work out. Smoking is the only thing that makes me feel better.” You explained. “I tried just about everything you can think about…you know. I’m better than I used to be.”

“Scars..? Yeah I know. I can see them when your sleeves lift up sometimes. I know it’s better than hurting yourself but you still deserve so much better. It’s not the fact that you're smoking it that bothers me. It’s the fact that you’re developing a habit. You smoke at least 4 times a day.” He confessed. “I see so much of myself in you and just feel the need to protect you. I know that sounds overbearing as fuck but that’s how I feel.”

“Oh…I see. Well we are pretty much broken. But what’s better than being drunk or high? what do you suggest as better stress reliever? If I’m not allowed to smoke, it better be a damn good idea.”

“Well…ahem…we are pretty good friends and you can always lean on me when things are difficult. I’m not the best at talking things out but have you ever thought about us being friends with benefits?” He asked as smoothly as possible without trying to show his nerves.

“..! Ah..! I never thought about that before. I trust you and find you attractive so we can do that. It’s just…ever since I broke up with my ex, I haven’t done this in a long time.” You confessed feeling the heat on your cheeks.

“I’ll treat you right. I promise.” He said tilting your face up towards his. You made eye contact deep into his ametrine eyes and could see in his soul he was telling the truth.

You two subconsciously drew closer to each other until you felt his lavender lips brush up against yours and you let your instincts take care of the rest.

You locked lips and went through a series of gentle open mouth kisses as pulled you closer to his chest.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and carded your fingers through his hair as you deepened the kiss. He groaned softly and nibbled on your lip firmly. This made you gasp and he took that opportunity to slip his tongue in mouth. You sucked on it softly and gently grazed your teeth on it.  

You two fought each other orally refusing to submit. He pushed you down on your back into the bed not leaving your lips. He sucked hard on your bottom lip hard leaving it slightly swollen. You two eventually parted panting hard leaving a small string of saliva between both your lips. 

He looked down at you with eyes full of lust and his cheeks were dusted red. 

“Do you want me to go further? If I do, I won't be able to stop.” He warned.

You were too drunk on lust to make a verbal response, you just nodded yes hoping he knew you were in a right enough mind to consent.

You two quickly stripped down to your underwear and he jumped back on top of you, grinding his hardness into your clothed crotch.

You pulled him by the hair in response to the pleasure down to you so you could kiss him.

He kissed you deeply again and left a trail of kisses from your jaw to your ear and nibbled on it. You panted and whined as sucked a small hickey on your neck.

“You look good covered in my lipstick.” He purred as kissed and sucked his way down to your collar.

“How am I gonna hide all these marks? Everyone is gonna notice.” You whined.

“You’re just going to have to put up with wearing a turtleneck in the middle of summer. Or be comfortable and let them look. Let them know who you belong to now” he growled as he bit down.

“Ah~ that stings!” You winced as you dug your fingernails into his back.

“You can handle a little pain, brat.” He chuckled as he kissed the bite mark.

He kissed his way down your left breast all the way to your hardened nipple. He gently grazed his teeth over the sensitive bud and gave it a firm suck. In tandem as he lapped at your stiff peak he gently groped and massaged the right breast, rubbing his thumb over the right nipple. 

“Oh fuck…Leone… you’re driving me crazy.” You panted. The stimulation from your breasts was causing you to grind your cloth covered cunt up against him. You could feel your underwear getting soaked from your arousal.

“It must have been a real long time for you…why else would you be acting this shameless?” He snickered as he took his hand off your breast and snaked it down to your soaking wet crotch. 

“Shit Y/N… you’re soaking through these flimsy things.” He hooked a finger under the waistband of your underwear and slid them off, exposing your dripping cunt to him.

“You have a very pretty pussy bambina. I hope it can stretch out enough for me.” He purred as he spread your lips apart and slowly slipped a finger in.

“Hah…as long as you’re gentle I’m sure you’ll fit…” you shivered as you felt the pleasant intrusion.

He readjusted himself over you by your side so he could be close to you while he properly fucked you with his fingers. 

“You think this tight cunt of yours can handle 8 ½ inches? Don’t forget I’m pretty thick too… I doubt you were fucked by anyone with experience either.” He panted as he nibbled on your ear and curled his finger to brush up against your sensitive spot.  

“Let me know when you’re ready for another finger…” he reminded you as he continued to thrust into your drooling cunt.

“Ha…another please…” you moaned softly. 

He obeyed and worked a 2nd finger into your tight cunt. 

“Hmm…”please”? You’re begging already? I must be doing a good job.” He gently teased.

He thrusted his fingers in at a steady rhythm, using his thumb to gently rub circles on your clit. The juices of your pleasure were coating his hand. Each thrust he made made a lewd wet slap sound.

“Ah~ shit… Leo—ne…” you whined gripping onto his hair making him groan and grind his erection into your side.

“Shit if you keep pulling my hair like that I’m going have no choice but to bend you in half.” He groaned as he curled his 2 fingers over your gspot.

“Oh my god~” you mewled as you arched your back. The waves of pleasure were coming with each thrust of his thick fingers. You could feel the heat pooling in your lower stomach. You were on the edge of cumming.  

He could sense that you were getting close and pulled his fingers out which made you cry out in frustration.

“No whining brat. I want to feel you cum on my cock.” He smirked as he licked his wet fingers clean of your juices. 

He slipped off his boxers and you looked down at his cock. He wasn’t kidding… it was massive, uncut with a thick vein running down the shaft. It was picture perfect.

He rubbed his cock between your folds to lubricate himself with your excess arousal. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asked as he spread you apart.

“Yeah…please be gentle. I’m a little nervous.” You whimpered.

“Don’t worry I’m not going to force you open.” He rubbed your inner thigh as he slowly pushed himself in between your plush wet lips. “Fuck…” he groaned.

You remained relaxed as he penetrated you. You were feeling extremely full with a small sting. Thank god for your overexcited cunt making enough lube. This would hurt like hell otherwise. He made himself fully comfortable inside your plush cunt. You waited for the sting to die and then gave him the okay to start.

He grabbed you by the hips and pulled you down on to his length. He nearly pulled out and thrusted back in hard while pulling your hips close to him with each thrust.

You whined and mewled with each movement. He was taking his time to fuck slow and deep. You could feel his tip kiss your cervix with each thrust.

“Leo—ne~” you cried his name and repeated it over and over like it was a prayer.

He was slowly getting lost in the pleasure and he picked up the pace, burying his cock deeper into your molten core. 

“It’s like your pussy was made for me Y/N…” he panted. “I don’t know if I want to share it…”

He caged you down to bed with his body into a missionary position, panting hard in your ear.

You pulled him by the hair to face You kissed him deeply. He licked on your lip asking for entrance and you let him in, allowing your tongues to fight for dominance.You wrapped your arms and legs around him, pulling him closer to your body. 

He released from your lips to kiss down your jaw and bit down on your neck.

“Leo~ Fuck!” you cried as you yanked his hair in response.

He grabbed your left leg and threw it over his shoulder, partially bending you in half. This gave a completely new angle for his cock to fuck you in. This made you cry and mewl out in ecstasy.

“Fuck Y/N...I don’t know how long I’m gonna last.” He groaned.

“Cum inside me!” you begged.

He thrusted as hard as he could and rubbed gently on your clit. “ I want you to cum with me” He panted.

You felt that familiar feeling intensifying in your lower stomach. Your legs were quivering, the heat radiating from your cunt to the rest of your body from each clit stroke, the knot inside you was about to snap. You were dangerously close to your release.

“Leone~I’m gonna cum~”you howled as the tears began to prick the corners of your eyes.

He kissed you deeply in response and thrusted as you felt the deep warmth of his sticky release fill inside you. This took you over the edge and the knot snapped reaching your orgasm. You felt the intense tidal wave of pleasure wash over you as you felt yourself gush onto his cock. Few more waves came lowering in intensity and finally to nothing, 

He pulled away from you and collapsed next to you on the bed. He pulled your body towards his as you both cuddled and basked in the afterglow. 

“Wow…”you said breathlessly. “I have no words…”

“See how much better this is than smoking that green shit?” he asked.”If you ever need me, I’m always here for you.”

“Yeah it is better. But a joint is quicker and less messy.” you teased.

“Pfft, thats what quickies are for you brat.” he flicked your head in a joking sense. “But don’t come crying to me when Bucciarati rips you a new asshole.”

“I’ll do my best to rely on you from now on.” you promised.

“Good.”he kissed your forehead.

The both of you snuggled and soundly fell asleep.  

[thanotaphobia]

STAR-CROSSED LOVER BOYS.

purgatory is going to destroy me

crossposted to ao3

⋆

“There you are.”

Missa yelps, his whole body flinching– the ax in his hand drops to the ground with a thud. For a second he thinks about running, but then the words register, and the voice, and he whirls around.

“Philza,” he says, a mixture of delight and anxiety thrumming through him. “How did you–”

“Your guys’ base is not hard to find,” Phil says, hands in his pockets as he surveys the area around them with a critical eye. Missa wonders if he's trying to hide the blood underneath his nails. “You should probably move underground.”

“Maybe,” Missa says. “What’s up? Need something?” He’s a little wary– people have been killing, he knows that very well. He trusts Phil, but still. He’s seen the chat messages. 

“Not really,” Phil says. “Most of my team is out and around I got bored. Wanna walk?”

“Walk where?” Missa looks around the wasteland they’re calling home for now.

“I dunno. Somewhere?” Phil smiles at him and Missa smiles back, unsure.

“This feels like a trap,” he says.

Missa kicks his ax to the side where it will be safe and taking Phil’s hand when it’s offered. “Are you going to kill me?”

“I would never,” Phil promises, and they start walking together. “Ye of little faith, man.”

“Everything’s just gone crazy,” Missa says with a laugh, swinging their hands between them. The camp turns to beach turns to forest, both of them relishing in the shade of the trees as they amble along. “I hope we get to go home soon. I miss it.”

“I hope they leave our houses alone,” Phil nods. “Something weird is going on, and I don’t trust it. Yesterday was nuts but I feel clearer today. My head. Less tired.”

“Same,” Missa nods. “I kept getting killed and the respawn was awful.” He’s not exaggerating– something about the respawn on this island is different, lingering in his limbs and sending pins and needles up his body every time he wakes up. The pain echoes, and he knows he’s not the only one because Phil just nods, mouth set in a firm line.

“It’s probably on purpose,” he says. “To mess with us. I think a lot of things are. It’s definitely getting to some of the others.”

“Not you?” Missa asks, pausing mid step to look at Phil. “Are you alright?” He reaches out, takes Phil’s other hand. Phil smiles at him and gives his fingers a warm squeeze, and Missa giggles softly.

“No dreams, at least,” Phil tells him. 

“I’m glad,” Missa says earnestly. He’s glad to hear Phil’s doing okay– as okay as he can be, but like he said, purgatory is getting to some of the others. Missa knows what he means. He’s seen the looks in some of their eyes, the way people are quicker to snap. With Phil, it seems impossible that it could happen, but he’s heard shouting across the hills and felt the blade of a sword too many times now to deny it. 

“I think they want an excuse to go a little crazy,” Phil tells him and Missa laughs again. “Like, this is some fucked up social experiment and we all just went yeah, sure, why not?”

“You guys were so weird,” Missa says and Phil laughs with him now, both of them giggling. “Like, man, we were just trying to do stuff and failing and you guys were shouting in the distance–”

Both of them are laughing together now, and Missa basks in it. He missed Phil, so fucking much. He’s nervous here, but happy too, happy Phil is with him and smiling. Phil looks at him and opens his mouth as if he’s going to say something back, then pauses. Lets go of one of Missa’s hands and turns slightly, peering out into the trees. Missa makes a face at him, looking out in the same direction, but then Phil is nudging him backward and behind one of the bigger trees with wide eyes and a small smile still on his face.

“What?” Missa asks, dropping his voice into a whisper. “Philza, what–”

“Shh.” Phil presses him up against the tree and Missa lets him, lets the hand clamp over his mouth as Phil looks over his shoulder. This is ridiculous, Missa thinks to himself, and he can’t help the giggling bubbling up within him. His laughter is stifled thanks to Phil’s hand, and Phil is also still grinning, biting his lip as they stand there in the shade. It takes a second for Missa to register what Phil heard– footsteps in the leaves, voices. Fit, by the sound of it, and Etoiles. Now Missa gets it; those two have been on more than a few killing sprees, and who knows what’d they say if they came upon Phil and Missa out here. Missa holds his breath, staring hard in the direction of the sound, and while Phil seems insistent they stay quiet he doesn’t seem too frightened. After a few moments the sounds of their footsteps fade, and Missa is left staring down at Phil instead, who slowly pulls his hand away from Missa’s mouth.

Once he thinks it’s safe, Missa whispers, “So are you and– you know. Are you?”

“Etoiles?” Phil asks, and Missa blinks, then shakes his head. “Oh, Fit? Nah, it’s just fun. He’s gone fucking bonkers since we’ve gotten here, though.”

“I think we all have,” Missa says, giggling nervously. 

“Did it make you jealous? Before?” 

“No,” Missa says, and he’s honest about it. He also… kinda gets it. You just have to look at Fit to understand, honestly. “You come back to me anyway.”

Phil looks at him then, the smile dropping from his lips. He stares, something open and honest and brutal on his face at Missa, as though he’s just had a realization. Missa’s about to open his mouth and ask what it is, what’s the matter– but before he can, Phil surges up onto his feet and pushes his mask away from his face, kissing him harshly on the mouth as he slings an arm around Missa’s shoulders.

They’ve kissed before, but never like this. It’s always been on hands and shoulders and foreheads, soft intimate presses of closed mouths as reassurance and comfort. This is more. This is open lips, warm mouth, noses pressed uncomfortably together. This feels like desperation mixed with anguish, and Phil presses Missa harder against the trunk of the tree and Missa grabs at his waist with both hands and kisses back.

“I wish we were on the same team,” Phil tells him, pulling back a half inch and leaving Missa gasping for air. He feels like he’s on fire, all of Phil’s wild nature igniting him at once, leaving him to boil over. Red and blue– Missa feels the distance now more than anything. 

“We could make our own team,” Missa says, dragging him closer, trying to drown himself in Phil. “Maybe.”

Phil doesn’t bother responding to him; just kisses him again. Missa is going crazy, he thinks. Maybe it’s the place– purgatory sending them all spiraling into their own little wells of madness. There’s something about Philza here that makes this feel dangerous, like at any moment someone might pop around the corner of a tree and yell GOTCHA at the two of them. It’s– well, they’re husbands, everyone had pretty much assumed they were doing this anyway, but something about that thought makes Missa squirm a little, which makes Phil press him harder into the tree, which makes Missa duck his head and kiss him back even more. 

They do that for a while, kissing back and forth until Missa’s lips feel swollen and tender. At some point his knees go out, and they both sink to the forest floor. Phil’s in his lap, Missa can’t feel his toes or his lips, and yet he still wants more, somehow.

“Man,” Phil says between kisses, words punctuated by his face against Missa’s. “What the fuck did they put in the water?”

“I like it,” Missa says. He feels loopy, out of it. Maybe there was something in the water. Nothing feels real. He never wants it to end.

Phil laughs at him, pulling back from the kissing to grin at Missa lazily, nonchalant, like they do this every damn day. If Missa wasn’t already on the ground, he thinks he’d collapse. Phil tucks his warm nose into the crook of his neck and they sit there. The sticks and leaves press uncomfortably into Missa’s back and ass, but he doesn’t care. Phil is heavy on his lap, arms tight around his shoulders, and Missa holds him like he wants to every day. 

Selfishly, Missa thinks maybe purgatory is a good thing. Ignoring the death, and the dehydration, and the sun and the apples and the betrayals– he at least gets this out of it. He’s a selfish man. He’ll admit that much.

“Do you think we’ll get the eggs back?” Phil asks quietly. Missa plays with the loose strands of his hand, twirling them in between his fingers, alternating between that and running his hand down the long line of Phil’s spine. Tracing the bumps of his bound wings beneath his jacket.

“I don’t know,” Missa says honestly. 

“It feels like a trick,” Phil says, turning his head. Missa can’t see his face, but Phil’s gaze is directed outwards, towards where Missa knows the sea is. “All of this.”

“Yeah.” Missa can at least agree with that. It does feel like a trick. It makes him uncomfortable. “I’m still useless here, though.”

“Are you kidding me?” Phil turns his head to look up at Missa now, eyebrows furrowed. “Dude, you and your team have been doing better than us. That’s crazy.”

“Still,” Missa says. “It’s mostly Bad Boy Halo.”

“Bruh, BBH is just cracked. Don’t base your worth off of him.” Phil snuggles closer into Missa’s chest, and on impulse Missa leans down. Phil tips his head up and kisses him back with gentle care, and Missa’s heart rate soars. 

“I love you,” Missa says into the kiss.

“I know,” Phil murmurs back into his lips. Missa snorts.

“You nerdy motherfuck,” he says, and Phil laughs, kissing Missa again, and again. “Star Wars?”

“Would you rather me just say it back?” Phil asks, and Missa stops, lips hovering a breath above Phil’s. For a moment neither of them move, and then Missa draws away, inhaling slightly.

“Would it be hard for you to?” he asks. Phil looks at him, eyes suddenly guarded, and then away. The uncomfortable shift makes Missa feel as though a bucket of cold water has been doused on him, trickling down his spine.

“If I say it, it makes shit real,” Phil says.

“And?” Missa demands. “Is me being real a bad thing?”

“No, no, I just–” Phil’s face contorts. “Missa, if it’s real, it means losing you becomes real too.”

“So you just avoid it,” Missa says, and slowly, things click into place. And it doesn’t make sense even then, it just makes him feel… angry. He hasn’t ever felt angry at Phil before, but here they are. His hands tighten around Phil, fingers catching in the rough cloth of his jacket. “Don’t you ever think it’s real for me?”

“I know it’s real for you,” Phil says, and he sounds more cautious now, like he’s seen Missa’s anger. “Missa–”

“No, no no no, Philza,” Missa says, and now he draws his hands back and away, staring at Phil’s conflicted face. “You can’t handle it, sure that’s fine, yeah. But that’s just not fair.”

Phil’s eyes flash. “You can’t force me to say shit.”

“And I’m not!” Missa scowls a little. “I’m just thinking, if I’m such a coward and I’m able to face the fact I love you and you can’t, what does that say about you–”

“Wow.” Phil pushes up and off him, untangling their limbs messily and staggering back onto his feet. Missa hurries to stand up, brushing off his knees as he does and leaning against the tree for support. “Wow, low fucking blow.”

“Says the one who won’t even say he loves me back,” Missa says, and it’s weird how the affection he’d been feeling only seconds ago can fade into animosity so quickly. Maybe Phil was right. Maybe it’s this place. “We split on to teams and yet you only come find me when you, what? Want comfort? Want a kiss?”

“Maybe I just like hanging out with you,” Phil says.

“I wouldn’t know, you never fucking say it,” Missa snaps.

Phil glares at him, raising a hand and wiping the back of it against his lips. Missa drags his skeleton mask back over his face. “Maybe it’s a good thing we’re on separate teams,” Phil says, voice cold. “You always needed your space.”

“Now who’s throwing low blows?” Missa says. The mask serves a few purposes– to match Phil’s energy for one, and two, to hide the way his eyes start to well up with tears. He’s always been a crybaby, but this hurts. It really, truly hurts. At least when they start to stream down his cheeks, they’re hidden behind the comfort of his mask. “Maybe you don’t love me. Maybe that’s why you won’t say it. Just break my heart already, get it over with.”

“Break your heart?” Phil laughs, shifting his stance to something more solid, feet spread apart in the leaves and hands balled into fists at his sides. Missa catches the warning before the actual fire gets spit– the words like venom lashing out across the forest. “Like you broke Chayanne’s?”

Missa can barely see when his hands hit Phil’s shoulders, shoving him backwards on uneven footsteps. “Get away,” he says, then he’s shouting, “Get away, get away, get away from me!”

The heartbreak, it turns out, is very much real in this place. Purgatory, the place between worlds, an eternal waiting room. There’s no going forward here, not unless you play the right cards. Missa’s face feels red and hot and he says nothing as Phil turns on his heel and walks away, not even bothering to look back. He waits until he’s sure Phil’s gone before he crumples to the ground and cries, whimpering into his hands like a baby because he’s gone and ruined everything now, hasn’t he?

But there is an itch at the back of his brain.

Maybe you did the right thing, the itch tells him, gentle hands on his shoulders and fingers petting through his hair. Maybe it’s for the best. You’re on separate teams, after all, and it couldn’t work. Stay away for the next few weeks, give each other space. Run away and let it all smooth over– he’ll forgive you, after all. He always has.

Missa wipes his eyes dry. Gets to his feet again, and looks in the direction Phil left. Maybe his subconscious is right. Maybe it’s just a waiting game. They can be angry at each other here, fight here, kill here, and when they get back to the island it can all go back to normal.

It’s just the stress, Missa tells himself, thinking of their son as he turns back towards the blue team base camp. There are things to do now, fights to be won, challenges to work on. He can think about Phil later. A small fight between couples never killed anyone.

…Right?

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

Would I be the asshole if I told my partner want to be their wife but not their bride?

INFO: I'm not even dating anyone yet.

I'm a queer adult (37F) dating for the first time. I'm an only child with one living blood relation I still speak to (my mom; she's great. everyone else is bigoted), and I've been clinically, life-ruiningly shy for my entire life.

I have twelve people that I could invite to a wedding, including the 3 plus ones. Of those, maybe 8 would make an effort to attend, and maybe 6 of them would have the means to travel to my city.

The thought of doing the whole wedding song and dance makes me feel nothing but pathetically alone. It makes me want to crawl in a hole.

And that's before we get into how much I hate parties, crowds, dancing, weird lighting, weird auditory ambiance.

Greeting the usual dozens of guests on my partner's list (and my single digit single table) with a customer service smile has me on the edge of an anxiety attack just writing it down.

When I think of weddings all I can see is how little I matter and how unimportant I am. How rarely I'm thought of or remembered. I've been invited to five weddings in my life. I've attended three. For two I was an afterthought invitation and for one I had to ask whether I made the list at all because I needed to start saving money to attend.

I'm not even dating anyone right now, and my dating pool is already so small. (Wants me, wants a long-term serious relationship, wants kids, but is ideally queer and polyam or polycurious, doesn't smoke or use weed or other drugs, nonreligious, politically liberal.)

But weddings are such a Big Fucking Deal, for so many people; if I throw this on too I think I might just reduce my options to 0.

Is it ever ok to ask someone to give up having a wedding for me? Because I can't do it.

I can't, I know what happens if I try, and it's me freezing up in the bridal suite and not being able to come out until everyone has left. Not in a "lol the nerves" way. In an "I am about to be killed and eaten alive by a bear but if I dissociate then having my organs torn from my body will hurt less until the shock kicks in and I die" way.

Except without the relief of being dead at the end.

And with the social consequences of ruining my hypothetical spouse's wedding for them and for their family and their friends and embarrassing them in front of their obligation guests.

And if it even is an ok thing to need, is there ever an ok time and place and way to drop the bombshell?

INFO: Repeat, I am not dating anyone at this time

What are these acronyms?

[prkwook]

THE STORM ⛈️ park gunwook

☆ pairing: high school student!gunwook x fem!reader

☆ genre: (slight??) angst, fluff,

☆ wc: 1.8k

☆ summary: your mind is a storm, spiraling like a hurricane, but at least you have someone ready to wait it out with you, no matter what happens.

☆ warnings: anxiety / social anxiety , reader has a panic attack (pls let me know if there are any i should add)

☆ note: this is my longest fic yet?!!!! not proofread

"I'm not afraid of storms, for I'm learning how to sail my ship." — Louisa May Alcott

You hate having to give presentations in class. So much so, you often skip class the day of your presentation because the thought of getting up in front of everyone makes you physically sick. Due to the amount of absences you were accruing because of this, you wanted to arrive early to school today to try and talk your way out of the presentation you were to give sometime today. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t. Unfortunately, today was not your lucky day.

When you slept 15 minutes past your alarm, only giving you 20 minutes to get ready and on your way, you thought it was just you being tired and when your hair straightener wouldn’t straighten how it always does, your excuse was that it was a hand-me-down from your older sister and it was getting old. But when your oatmeal was cold and you almost fell down the stairs on your way out the door, and you forgot your headphones at home, you decided that today, your luck (not that you normally have any) had run out.

When you got to school, you made a beeline directly towards the teacher’s office. When you got there, you found your teacher immediately and started walking towards him.

“Good morning, Y/n. What can I do for you this morning?” he asked you, eyes looking up at you from an email he was reading.

“Hi, Mr. Kim. You know those presentations we’re supposed to give today in class?” you mumbled. The frog in your throat was getting bigger by the minute and you didn’t know how much longer you could’ve stood there.

“Oh right! Thank you for reminding me! I completely forgot about those. What about ‘em?” You mentally kicked yourself. Another thing to add to the list of things that just couldn't go right. A nervous laugh escaped your mouth and in that moment, you wanted nothing more than to disappear.

“Right. Um, giving presentations makes me… uh… really um… nervous so I was wondering if I could maybe… uh… just come during lunch and just present to you instead of in front of the whole class.” You could already feel your usual day-of stomach ache coming on and it was not helping.

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but this is a really big part of your grade. Public speaking is very important for your future so you should get used to it. I’m sure everyone is nervous. Plus, I can’t go around making exceptions for people just because they’re nervous, now can I?” he questioned with an expectant look in his eyes. Unable to respond, you sighed quietly and drop your eyes to the hands fidgeting at your side.

“Oh... okay. I understand.” Honestly, you wondered if your day could get any worse?

Turns out, it could and just did.

“Hello, class!” Mr. Kim exclaims as he saunters into the room, smile on his face.

“Good morning, Mr. Kim.” the class less than enthusiastically says back to him.

“Aw, where’s the excitement?” Silence.

“Well …” he claps. “I had forgotten about your presentations today but was reminded about them this morning, thanks to Y/n!” he laughs. All 52 eyes in the class turn to look at you. You remember how you used to want to be Violet from The Incredibles when you were little and try to make yourself as invisible as possible. Maybe if you close your eyes, they’ll all disappear.

“Since you reminded me, why don’t you go first Y/n?” You hesitate and a second later, a hand shoots up. It’s the hand that belongs to the class president, your knight-in-shining armor, and the boy you’ve liked since the first day you joined this school, Park Gunwook.

“I’ll go first!” he announces and starts to walk up to the front of the classroom, hands carrying bright, neon-colored flashcards. You didn’t even prepare flashcards. You watch as he gives his presentation with the confidence only a scholar on the topic could have and when he’s done, you watch as he walks back to his seat and sit down.

“Would anyone else like to go?” Not a single hand raises. “Well, I guess it’s your turn then, Y/n.” You get up and silently shuffle to the front of the room, making a mental note of all of the eyes that travel with you on your way. You also can't help but notice how your hair and uniform are now slightly disheveled, a by-product from when you had to slump down in your seat in order to avoid the gazes of your classmates. Suddenly, you’re more self-conscious than ever, feeling the stare of every single person in the room bore into you. When you finally reach the front, you look out into the sea of eyes that are all staring right back at you.

You look down at your hands and fidget with your rings until you hear your teacher say that you can start when you’re ready. But what if you’ll never be ready? What if this fear of embarrassment, this fear that others will notice that your anxiousness and take advantage of it, never goes away?

“Um…” You feel your hands start to shake so you hide them in the pockets of your sweatshirt. “My project was on…. um…” You look up at the SMART board next to you that has the slide presentation you spent hours on, projected onto it. “It’s on …. um… Romeo- sorry… um … Romeo and Juliet by William Shakespeare.” You look up at the people who could clearly care less about your or your presentation but somehow, your brain has you convinced that they can see your anxiety, as if it’s written in big, bold letters right across your forehead. You start to get overwhelmed and all it takes is a quick glance to the corner where you can see two girls look at you, laugh, and then start whispering to each other, for you to be running out the door.

You run and run and run until you reach the staircase, a place you know no one will be this time of day, and finally let the tears spill. You’re seemingly safe and yet the thoughts in your head spiral like a hurricane, wreaking havoc on your emotions, the peaceful citizens in your brain. Your lungs burn with an all consuming fire, never letting you catch your breath, not for even a millisecond. Your hands are still shaking and you swear your heart is beating so fast, you might even be having a heart attack. You’ve felt these all too familiar feelings before and yet, they’re still as strong as the first time. Everything other than the hurricane is gone and yet, you can still feel a tap on your shoulder, a tap that alerts you of the presence of another being standing on the outside of your storm.

“Y/N, are you okay?” the person asks, worried laced in their words. You could recognize this voice from anywhere.

“Do I look okay?!” you yell, louder than intended. Gunwook recoils, words hitting him like cold water. Your storm widens and he's caught in the crossfire.

“Ok, I probably deserved that. Hey, it’s okay.” he says softly as if he’s trying not to scare you away. “Just breathe with me.” Inhale. Exhale. “Again.” Inhale, exhale. You feel your breathing start to return to normal but even still, you can’t seem to escape the storm. The boy sits down next to you and pats his shoulder. You lay your head down and cry on his shoulder for what feels like an eternity.

You sit up and look at his tear-stained shoulder. “Oh my god, I am so sorry." Embarassment floods your senses and a second wave of tears start to fall. Gunwook wraps his arms around you as if he's trying to protect you from the dangerous winds of your storm, now surrounding you both.

“Hey, no. It’s okay, I promise. No need to apologize. I completely understand how you feel. You might not believe me but trust me, I’ve gotten really good at hiding it. I don’t know if you noticed but while I was up there, my hands were shaking like crazy.”

As he talks, you feel your storm get smaller and smaller until it’s only just a little, tiny rain cloud floating above your head. You pull away and look him in the eyes.

“Why’d you chase after me?” you question, still looking into his warm, brown eyes. He looks right back into yours and wipes away a tear-shaped raindrop running down your cheek.

“Because I was worried about you, Y/N.”

“Why were you worried? I mean look at me, I've never been better.”

Gunwook laughs, and his laugh is a sound you're convinced is your new favorite. “What do you mean why? If the girl I like runs out of the classroom crying, obviously I’m going to be worried …. wait a second…..” He looks away to hide his cheeks, but his red ears are a dead giveaway.

“The girl you what?!”

“Shit. I’m sorry if that just made this awkward. I mean you said it yourself, we’re not really friends so I don’t blame you at all if you want me to leave. You know what, I’ll just go.” As he gets up and starts to walk back in the direction of your classroom, you grab his hand.

“Don’t I get to say my piece now?” Gunwook pauses and you take this as a sign to continue. “Remember when you were assigned to show me around the school because I was new? That was the day I spilled my strawberry milk all over you. I felt so bad and kept apologizing but you insisted that it was actually your fault because you bumped into me. You even bought me a new one from the cafeteria. Instead of making me feel embarrassed or humiliated, you comforted me, saying that it was okay because you had been looking for an excuse to get a new jacket. To this day, no one has ever done something for me like that.”

Gunwook laughs and the smile you’ve come to love appears on his face. “I remember that day like it was yesterday. The entire time I was with you, I was so nervous. I mean how could I not be? You’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen. Every time you smiled, my heart skipped a beat.”

“How come you never told me how you felt?”

“I don’t know. I guess I was scared. It’s a lot easier to stay quiet about it than have to deal with rejection.” Gunwook responds, sadness written all over his face.

“Who says I would’ve rejected you?” You say and smile for the first time that day.

[wandering-winchesters]

Please don’t shut me out.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 2,607

Requested Anonymously: Could you write something using the prompt, “I know you always push people away, I just never thought you’d do it to me.” With a Dean x Reader pairing? I love your writing!! xx

Summary: The reader struggles with anxiety and depression, especially after a hunt doesn't go the way she hoped it would.

Trigger Warning: Mentions of anxiety, depression and coping mechanisms.

Note: Everyone handles anxiety & depression in different ways, I by no means think that there is a cure all. The things that I mentioned are simply things that bring me comfort. If you are struggling, please reach out.

Masterlist

—

Since I was ten years old, anxiety and depression had been my closest unwelcome friend. Although, at the time I did not know it by that name. It was the nightly stomach ache at eight o’clock sharp every night. The insomnia when my parents sent to bed at nine o’clock. My brain keeping me awake after everyone else had fallen asleep, every night. I never had many friends as a child, I kept to myself. Social anxiety not allowing me to think anyone cared enough about me to want to get to know me.

Now, as an adult, I have managed to cope with my anxiety a bit better. However, when my depression gets bad, it is still an uphill climb. A battle that I internalize as much as I can, not wanting anyone else to see the darkness within. Especially when it comes to Sam and Dean, they have enough on their plates they don’t need to worry about me on top of all of that. They don’t need to know that every hunt that I go on with them haunts me in my sleep almost every night.  The boys are an escape on their own, just being around them helps with any anxiety while I am awake. They calm me, their presence alone surrounds me with the feeling of love and protection. Not having to worry about if I am safe, when I am with them. 

I had started hunting a few years back, I was unwilling at first, dragged into it by my late father. We had run into Sam and Dean while on a witch hunt, the very same hunt that claimed my fathers life. The boys took me in after that, ignoring my refusals of their help. Insisting, that they just needed my help with one more hunt, that turned into 2, which turned into 30. Until it just became the norm. I moved into the bunker with them and took it upon myself to keep the place cleaned and stocked with food. Not something they ever asked for or expected me to do, it is just how I show my love and appreciation for the two of them. 

Today has been a difficult day, I had just gotten back from a solo hunt that I insisted on taking. Much to Sam and Dean's dismay and strong objections. However, I didn’t give them much choice, getting up early while they were still asleep and leaving in my truck. Sending them a quick text to explain where I was off to, with instructions not to worry or try to come after me. I regretted my choice, I should have brought them along. It would have made it easier to handle, made the loss a little bit easier to manage. I can still see the face of the woman I was seconds too late to save. Her eyes slowly closing, her hand gripping my arm, tears slowly running down her cheeks. I blink, bringing myself back to reality. I was parked in front of the bunker, back from the hunt. I reach up and wipe away the tears that had unknowingly fallen from my own eyes, as I was lost in my thoughts.

I open the drivers door, stepping down onto the gravel. Making quick work of grabbing my backpack and duffle from the back seat. I turn and walk towards the door, steeling myself before I walk into the bunker. Not wanting the boys to catch on to the fact that I am not doing well. I precariously balance my duffle bag on my knee as I try to unlock the door to the bunker, but instead I drop my keys.  

“Christ,” I mumble, lightly kicking my foot against the door in frustration and blowing a strand of hair out of my eyes. The door jerks open, Dean grinning at me from the other side. 

“Wow, thanks sweetheart. I knew I was great, but didn’t realize you thought I was Christ like!” He winks, reaching to take my bags from my hands. 

“I got ‘em, thanks though.” I say, rolling my eyes and pushing past him to drop my bags on the floor in front of my room. His joke, that would normally make me laugh, striking the wrong nerve. Dean still stands by the door, confusion spreading across his face. Sam glances up from his seat at the table and gives me a smile, closing the book he was reading and setting it down on the wooden surface in front of him. 

“How did the hunt go, Y/N?” Dean asks, closing the door and turning to look at me. His eyes scanning my face for any explanation for the way I had snapped at him. I sigh, and roll my shoulders out, releasing some of the tension I had been carrying between them.

“It went fine Dean, I am just tired and hungry.” I shrug, walking over to the fridge and pulling out a cold bottle of water, taking a few sips. 

“Did something happen that you need to talk about?” Sam asks, turning his attention towards Dean and myself, his eyebrows raised in concern. 

“Nope, nothing happened. Just tired.” I say, my tone growing more annoyed at having to repeat myself. I turn my back to the boys and walk towards my room, well aware of the looks that the they were giving each other. I am sure that this is not the last I will hear of this conversation. 

—

Once I got to my room and shut the door, I could feel depression creeping over me, like a storm cloud, heavy, dark and looming. I took off my jeans and t-shirt and grabbed a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt that I had stolen from Sam, it was one of the ones he had gotten while he was in college. It was warm and comforting, so I always wore it on days like today.

I turned and headed towards my bathroom, deciding a shower was the best thing to do next. I turned the water on, as hot as I could stand it and climbed in. I stood under the water at first, working my fingers through the knots in my hair that had occured over the last few days of stressful hunting. I finished washing my hair within the first few minutes of the shower, but didn't get out. I slid down onto the tile and let my head rest against the wall. I embraced the emptiness I felt, letting the hot water overwhelm my senses. I lost track of time, only getting out of the shower when the water started to turn cold. I shut it off and grabbed my towel to dry off. I ran a brush through my hair before dressing myself in the clothes that I had brought in with me.

I walked out of the bathroom and surveyed my room, messy and cluttered, but mine. I flicked the light off and shuffled across the room before flopping onto my bed, not bothering to get under the covers. 

I could hear the low tones of the boys talking in a nearby room, not enough to understand their words, but enough to know they were there. Knowing they were close by was comforting, but at this moment I just wanted to be alone. 

The familiar ache in my stomach creeps in, anxiety at its finest. The horrors of the hunt washing back over me, like a tsunami I can't outrun. I scowl, a puff of air escaping my lips as I sigh, rolling onto my side. I pick up my phone, glancing at the unread messages on the screen. 

Sam

8:07 P.M. : Hey, I don’t know if something is bothering you or not, but we're here if you need anything. Just yell.

9:45 P.M. : Dean is getting really worried, antsy even. I would at least text him back if you want to be left alone.

Dean-

8:33 P.M.: You said you were hungry, want a burger?

9:17 P.M. : You have been in the shower for over an hour, are you alive in there?

I shut off the screen, setting my phone on the table beside my bed. I close my eyes and try to sleep. However, sleep does not come. I toss and turn, the only thing I can see is her face as she takes her last breath. I can feel tears burning at the corners of my eyes, but I blink them away. Stupid. I was stupid to think I could have managed this on my own. It's all my fault that she's dead.

I am jerked from my thoughts by a knock on my door. I keep quiet, hoping that whoever it is they will go away. The knock sounds again, this time my door creaking open a couple of inches, enough for Dean to look through into my dark room. "If you don't want people to know you are ignoring them, you should turn your read receipts off. I know you are awake Y/N." I can hear the worry in his voice, his tone soft. As if he is speaking to a frightened animal, trying to reassure it that he isn't a threat.

"Go away Dean, I just want to be alone." I say, the unsteadiness in my voice way more evident than I wanted it to be. I bite my lip, hoping he won't notice how close to tears I really am.

"I knew you always push people away, I just never thought you’d do it to me." He says, stepping into my room and shutting the door behind him. It's dark, so I can hear him carefully making his way towards me. He chuckles as he trips over something on my floor, probably the jeans I had discarded earlier. He settles himself next to me on the other side of the bed, resting his back on the head board. I pull myself into a sitting position, hugging my legs to my chest and resting my chin on my knees. His weight shifts, and I can't tell what he is doing until the light on the bedside table clicks on. I protest, but am quickly silenced by the look that he gives me. I look away, hoping that he doesn't notice my red rimmed eyes.

"Now, you wanna tell me what happened? Or should I drag it out of you, like you know I will eventually." He asks, his hand coming to rest gently on my spine, tracing soft patterns on my skin.

I sit silent, except for the sniffles that I can't seem to stop. The tears starting to flow again. I sigh, before starting from the beginning. How I had left, the werewolves that I had encountered, the moment where I realized that I had fucked up. How scared I had felt, but that I didn't think I could call him, because I didn't want him to be mad at me. I pause after my last admission, taking a breath and clearing my throat.

"All of this, was bad enough. But then... Dean... I couldn't save her, she was too far gone by the time I got to her. If I had just been better, worked faster, If I hadn't hesitated because of fear then, she would still be here. It's all my fault, I-" The tears are streaming even harder now, leaving a trail, but quickly being replaced by another, a sob escapes me and I quickly try to cover it up, but he knows.

"Hey," He sighs, his hand squeezing the back of my neck to get my attention. When I don't look at him, his tactics change. He shifts his body around so he is sitting in front of me, he cups my chin in his hand tilting my face so his eyes can meet mine. "Stop that, right now. That thinking, is how we end up with another dead hunter. You are not at fault here, from what you told me, there was nothing anyone could have done by that point Y/N. You did your best, and that is something to stand behind." He gently tucks my hair behind my ear, his thumb brushing over my chin before bringing his hand back to his side.

My whole body is trembling at this point, my breathing shaky, muscles tense from trying to stop the unwanted movement making its way through my body. I look away from Dean once again, to wipe my tears on the sleeve of my shirt.

"I never wanted you to know this side of me Dean, that is why I pushed you away. I would've been fine in the morning." I mumble, barely loud enough for him to hear, I look at him once again, to find he's still staring back at me. His green eyes soft, yet concern is etched across his face. His brows pulled together in that all too familiar look of sympathy that I hate.

“Sweetheart, I’ve known this side of you since I first met you. I have it, Sam has it. Matter of fact if you didn’t have it, then I’d be concerned. You can’t do this line of work, without dealing with those things you mentioned. It’s normal, Y/N. You and Sam are the only things that get me out of bed some mornings, most mornings if I’m being honest.” He changes position again, moving back to my side, his arm snaking around my waist and pulling me into his side. I give in and lean against him, tucking my head under his chin. I relish this moment, the scent of his cologne hanging heavy in the air around me. The sound of his heartbeat and the steady rise and fall of his chest grounding me in ways I didn’t think possible. Dean holds me for awhile, not breaking the silence. I just need him to hold me and even though I never asked, he knew.

“I can sleep on the couch in here tonight, keep you company.” He offers, beginning to pull away from me. I immediately feel the lack of warmth his body was providing.

“No,” I say hurriedly, watching as confusion flashes over his features. “Can you sleep here? In bed with me?” I ask, bracing myself for his refusal. What was I thinking? Of course he wouldn’t say yes, why would he want to share a bed with me? But instead of refusal, he nods, a small smile spreading across his face. He sheds his flannel, t-shirt, and pants. Before pulling the covers back on my bed and sliding under them, laying on his side facing me.

“Hurry up and get under here, Y/N.” He says, but I don’t move fast enough for his liking. Because before I can blink, he’s pulling me towards his chest and throwing the blankets on top of me. It makes me laugh, small and short, but a laugh none the less. I can feel him smiling against my neck, his lips twitching up at the corners. I turn to face him, wrapping my arms around him in a hug that I was so unknowingly desperate for. We stay like that for quite a while, in silence. His breathing evening out, I assume he’s sleeping, so when he speaks I jump ever so slightly. His grip around me tightening.

“Promise you won’t shut me out again, sweetheart? I just want to be here for you. Just like you do for me.” He whispers, pressing the lightest kiss to my forehead. I nod, raising my chin too look up at him.

“I promise.”

A/N: Requests are open! Please send them to me. If you’d like to be added to my tag list, please let me know!

[celestial-quill-n-ink]

Autistic MC Headcanons

Featuring: Lucifer, Mammon, Leviathan, Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub & Belphegor

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Quick Note: I wrote this from my own personal experience, so some traits might not fit with your own personal experiences, which is completely Ok! These are all very self-indulgent for me, so I'll be happy if even anyone else out there likes what I've written! - Celeste

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🌟Lucifer🌟

✦ Above all else, Lucifer will listen intently to your personal experiences and directly ask you how you would like your time in the Devildom to be improved

✦ He completely accepts his lack of knowledge in the situation and would consult with both Satan and Solomon about Human mental health and wellbeing

✦ He begins to check in with you on a more consistent basis, making sure you're not overworking yourself and being stressed out by your tasks

✦ He gains even more respect for your persistence and tenacity, and does his best to make his appreciation known with words of affirmation and praise

✦ If he happens to be around when you are in an overwhelming situation, he'll swiftly de-escalate it and, if you would like, hold you close and soothe you with careful repetitive motions

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💳Mammon💳

✦Mammon would initially be confused, but not in the way you might expect, as he had already accepted you for all your quirks and didn't see any issues with your social divergences

✦ He is your biggest hype man, always standing by your side whenever you may need encouragement or comfort

✦ It truly cannot be understated how Mammon will just drop everything in an instant to be there for you when you're feeling anxious, and though he'll never admit it out loud, he's utterly humbled by how quickly you seem to calm down the moment he's in your presence

✦ He has similar issues with focusing and prioritizing work due to distractions (mainly those of the golden variety), so he admires you all the more when you tell him of your silent struggles with your tasks and how you continue to persist in spite of it

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🎮Leviathan🎮

✦ Levi was already aware of your social struggles, as you had both partially bonded over your shared anxiety and awkwardness, but he was honestly quite fascinated about the whole concept of neurodivergency

✦ You would offer him any and all online resources you used to learn about the topic, and you would both end up discussing the finer details of your experiences well into the early morning

✦ He realizes how unintentionally dismissive he's been about your special interests, as he was already wrapped up in his own interests, and resolves himself to always give you a place to gush about your current fixations

✦ (It's with this diversion of his attention that he also realizes that he absolutely adores your excited smiles and giggles, and will never not feel blessed to be part of the reason why you can be so unabashedly happy)

✦ You better believe that when any special occasions roll around, he's pulling out all the stops to get that one piece of obscure merchandise you told him about months ago, because you deserve nothing but his best efforts scouring the internet for Akuzon and D-bay listings

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📚Satan📚

✦ Satan already has some baseline knowledge of the DSM and the different kinds of diagnoses Humans can be assigned, so he's more than willing to get a better understanding of things through a first-hand source

✦ He already had a personal fondness for your physical and vocal stims, and learning the underlying meaning of those actions will end up making him keenly attuned to your comfortability in any social situation

✦ If he notices you wringing your hands or repeatedly shifting your eyes in a tense situation, he's sticking right by your side and giving you gentle and repetitive ministrations to let you know that he's there for you

✦ Conversely, if he sees you kicking your feet with a smile on your face, humming along to one of your favourite songs, it fills him with an intense and almost prideful feeling as he just basks in your presence

✦ He just finds himself feeling soft and fuzzy inside whenever he witnesses your expressive voice and gestures, as he knows it to be very different from how you act publicly, which truly makes him feel special to you.

✦ He's had his own issues with identity and how others perceived him as an extension of Lucifer, so he tries his best to give you validation and reassurance that you are enough; whether you are masking or not

✦ He also completely respects your motivation to push past your anxiety and go outside more often, and will help you in meticulously planning out day trips to both fantastical and peaceful Devildom locales

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🌸Asmodeus🌸

✦ You initially worry that Asmo wouldn't really be able to understand what you're talking about if he hasn't experienced it himself, but his immediate acceptance and willingness to learn more about you puts your anxiety at ease

✦ He knows that he'll never truly understand your experiences in life, and would rather focus on finding out what makes you most happy and comfortable and do all within his power to make it a reality

✦ He always had a way of getting you to confess your innermost issues, no matter how small or insignificant, and allows you a space to vent about the misunderstandings and mistreatment of neurodivergent individuals (and later on with matters of the heart)

✦ He goes on to learn every little detail he can about your fashion sense and what he can do to make you feel pampered and taken care of, so slow-paced shopping sprees and relaxing spa days become a new daily routine for you both

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🍔Beelzebub🍔

✦ Beel is immediately supportive of you and also feels very grateful in knowing how comfortable you are around him and his brothers to be able to tell them something so personal

✦ Early into your tenure in the Devildom, you had already made your highly specific eating habits well known (to your embarrassed dismay at the time), and ever since making the pact, Beel would gently encourage you to try different Devildom foods that he believed would fit with your Human tastes

✦ He understands what it's like to bottle up his emotions to not overwhelm others around him, so he would always be there for you whenever you would shut down and just need a consistent and grounding weight in the form of a warm bear hug

✦ When comforting you, he often asks you about your Human family, and just as much as it's a distraction to help you calm down, it also enlightens Beel to your indomitable loyalty and care for those you deem to be your family (in which he deeply respects your values and feels like a kindred spirit)

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🌌Belphegor🌌

✦ Belphie was always aware of the subtle weariness that permeated your presence despite your bright and happy demeanour, and without even needing to know anything about masking, he would continually invite you to nap with him after dinner (with varying degrees of success initially)

✦ He inherently has a sarcastic streak in him, and while that clashed with your literal interpretation of his words at first, he started to understand your perspective and grew more endeared to your cute pouty reactions whenever he seemed outwardly cold or uncaring

✦ Whenever you were just hanging out with Belphie, you felt comfortable enough to let your mask fall off and relax without worrying about how you appeared to others, with which the youngest brother silently took an immense amount of pride in this exclusivity

✦ He has times where he reflects on how he manipulated you, and how you later confided in him about your fears of being perceived as naïve and idiotic, in which he does all that he can with both his words and actions to show how much he genuinely respects your unwavering kindness and empathy

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