#i actually wrote a different and longer answer

[kentosonlylover]

The Broken Cycle: K. Bakugo

It had been a cycle, one you couldn’t break of hook-up’s in his apartment to blow jobs in his car, you couldn’t do it anymore. You had fallen for him, hard but he hadn’t, one bit.

a/n: i was feeling kinda angsty today so I wrote this ;) should I write a part 2?

disc: mature themes, 17+, angst no comfort, toxic situationship!Bakugo

I wish I could proudly say I ignored his texts today,

That I ignored all the calls he gave me when I knew deep down what he wanted.

I wish that I could tell my friends that I did it,

That I blocked him and will never see him again.

But today, doesn’t seem like that day.

“Kats-Katsuki!” I cried out as he pounded into me roughly.

I found myself once again in his apartment, on his bed, under him.

He grunted, putting more strength into his thrusts, “You’re such a slut for me aren’t you.”

Bakugo groaned, leaning his head into my neck and sucking harsh marks into it, claiming his stake.

It was all too much, the sex, my feelings, everything.

And then I just started crying, overwhelmed and tired.

He just kept going, unaware to the reason of my crying, “You want it so bad you’re crying for it.”

He laughed. He actually laughed, so deep in the pleasure he couldn’t realize that I wasn’t crying in pleasure but in pain.

“You gonna cum, you’re gonna cum for me you whore?” His voice rough as he reached his down between his body.

“Cum for me, I know you want to”

When my high reached, it felt even more so overwhelming with all the feelings involved and my regrets.

He only continued though, chasing his own high without disregard for my flowing tears.

“F-fuck, you take it so well, such a good girl for me”

The feeling of his warm cum filling me to the brim, I just knew I had to end things. My eyes stung at my nonstop sobbing.

When he finally pulled out was when he realized my crying hadn’t stopped.

“Fuck, what’s wrong with ya?” He asked, as he grabbed his boxers.

I covered myself with his sheets as I couldn’t bear being vulnerable with him as I am naked.

“Shit, is it something I did?” He asked as he stood in front of me, arms crossed and eyebrow raised.

“I’m sorry Bakugo, I can’t do this” I told him, my sobs stopping just enough for me to speak.

“The what fuck you mean? and it’s Katsuki to you” He growled out, obviously annoyed but confused as well.

“I can’t do this, us, anymore” I tell him, as I stand to get dressed.

“The fuck you mean?” He asked as he my wrist, tight grasp holding me back.

“I just can’t Katsuki, I won’t do what to this to myself anymore” I ripped my hand from his grasp before getting dressed.

He kept asking me questions as I got dressed and grabbed my stuff but I ignored him.

I didn’t make it to the front door before he grabbed my wrist again, tighter this time.

I looked up at him, usually I can read his face pretty well but there was something different this time, something I couldn’t read.

“Answer me goddamn it” He growled, pulling me closer.

“I told you Katsuki, I can’t and I just won’t” I tried to escape.

“And I’m asking the fuck you mean by that?” He growled, eyes darkening.

“I can’t keep expecting more Katsuki! My heart breaks every time you hit me up in the middle of the night and I don’t even get a text the next morning. It hurts for me to try to text and not even get a reply but I run when you do.”

“It hurts when I see at a party with another girl, doing and saying the same things you said to me. And I know we agreed no feelings when we made this agreement but I just couldn’t help falling in love with you. But now I won’t let myself be hurt any longer, so I’m leaving Katsuki and I’m never coming back.”

His breathing stilled and it seemed like everything paused, his ears ringing. He didn’t know how to react, never did when it came to you.

I couldn’t bear being in front of him any longer and once again freed my arm before actually making my way out of the door. And it wasn’t till I made it to my car did I sob, unaware to what was happening upstairs.

“But I fell for you too idiot.”

[aria0fgold]

Whumptober day 16, alternative prompt used: Brass Knuckles and Whumptober day 22 prompt: Glass Shard

Characters: Mel, Marigold Ages: 15, 29

Mel hissed as Mari applied ointment on his injuries. A swollen cheek, cracked lips, several cuts and bruises all over, he even seemed to have sprained his ankle as well, though he wasn't certain of that, not when the only pain he can feel is from his other foot that had glass shards lodged into it earlier. It was quite an unfair fight, 5 people with some wielding weapons, a bat, brass knuckles, or whatever. Yet even with those advantages, they still lost, pathetically running with tails between their legs.

“Aight, ya got any excuse bout this?” Mari continued to tend to his wounds, one of her pals saw him and ran to get her. So here they are, in one of their hideouts closest to the area. There was a small frown on her face, he can't quite tell if she's mad at him or the people he fought.

He merely stayed silent, he didn't have to energy to explain anything to her nor does he have the energy to even talk at all. He just wanted to get to bed, to hell with his injuries, infection be damned, he didn't care about anything anymore, he just wanted to collapse somewhere and never wake up.

“Mm… Well, should've expected that silence.”

Mel groaned, rolling his eyes and looking away, anywhere to distract himself, the pain wasn't a problem to him, he had worse before, what was the problem however, was Mari herself. He can't understand her at all. A gang leader famously known to be scary and strong, caring and tending for a brat she found half-dead in an alleyway. He sometimes thinks it would've been better for him to have died then. What was the point?

Why would she even bother to look after a stranger's kid, completely unrelated to her? His parents didn't even bother to care for him the way she's doing. So what's the point?

“Hey.” Mari snapped her fingers in front of him.

Mel frowned, “What?”

Mari put a hand on her hip, looking him up and down, “Hmm… Anyone ever told ya yer easy to read?”

He huffed out a sigh, “Yeah, the people I just beat up.”

She whistled, her lips forming into a smirk, “Oooh, look at that. Ya plan on fightin' me next too, aye?”

Mel glared at her.

She merely chuckled at him, “Maybe wait when yer all healed up. Wouldn't mind a spar with a lil zombie.”

“Seriously, just say what you wanted to say. Stop with that shit.”

“Heeh… Already said all that I wanted.” She shrugged, “Ya know, that gloomy look don't suit ya. Want me to tell ya bout that time I found ya?”

Mel let out a loud groan, “Shut it then. I don't wanna hear it anymore.” He'd heard that story countless of times already, far too much to keep track of, he never understood why she liked talking about it so much.

Mari didn't seem to listen, “You were sitting all bloodied at that alley--”

“I told you to shut it.” Mel grabbed a shoe nearby, throwing it at Mari who caught it with ease and an annoyingly smug expression.

She laughed, annoying him even further. She can be so unbearable at times, yet Mel can't truly bring himself to hate it. If anything, he hated that it brought him a sense of comfort.

He clicked his tongue as he stood, though he stumbled forward, Mari was there to steady him by grabbing onto his arm.

“Here, here, I'll carry ya.” She turned, bending down to carry him on a piggyback.

“No--”

“Aish! I aint taking no as an answer from ya! Ya can't even stand well! If ya don't want a piggyback then I'll carry ya like those princesses.”

Mel grumbled as he climbed on her back, tugging at her hair in irritation when she laughed, though it didn't quite stop her from laughing even more.

“Anyway, bout time ya tell me bout those brats ya fought.”

“So what? You can get revenge for me?”

“I aint giving ya that luxury! Ya get revenge on yer own, but those idiots did step into my territory so someone oughtta teach em a lesson not to.”

Mel chuckled, “My information comes with a payment. And payment first.”

Mari grumbled, “Aight, aight! Whatever! Tell me what ya want then!”

Mel laughed, a genuine laughter for the first time in so long, yet he didn't realize it as such. All that he knew then was, it wasn't so bad living like this.

[sugusama]

hii, i loved your Katsuki fic and wanted to submit a request. katsuki x american gf reader, where he’s never met her but they try to talk throughout the day by texting or calling despite time difference. then they meet at the end of the fic as a surprise for katsuki (still UA au please). tyy :)

꒰��꒱﹒ 𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ﹒⟢ featuring: katsuki bakugo ‧₊˚ . ꣑୧

sypnosis ☆ bakugo never expected to fall for a girl halfway across the world… especially one with a six-hour time difference and a laugh that lives in his head rent-free. between classes at ua and her busy days in america, they text, call, and fall a little deeper with every message. but what happens when time zones and screens aren’t enough anymore? ⸝⸝ ᰔ ̫ ᰔ⸝⸝

content warnings ☆ fluff, comfort, a little angsty, ua based, black female reader, she/her used, lowercase intended, not proofread, bakugo has broken english, italics = japanese ๑•́ ₃ •̀๑

word count ☆ 1.1k

authors note ☆ hello hello! thank u so much for ur kindness 🌼 here you go! i hope you like this one just as much! if u would like anything else let me know!!

katsuki didn’t want to be part of any dumb online chat.

he hated talking for no reason. hated random people. especially hated wasting time when he could be training or doing something that mattered.

so when denki shoved his phone in his face during break and said, “bro, you gotta try this,” katsuki’s immediate response was no.

“it’s a server,” denki explained, grinning. “for, like, international hero fans. some of them are trying to get into schools like u.a. and they ask the weirdest shit.”

“not my problem.”

“c��mon. you can mess with them. they’ll lose their minds when you answer.”

“fuck off.”

but that night, katsuki couldn’t sleep. his shoulders ached from drills. his head was too loud with thoughts he didn’t want to think. and his phone, tucked under his pillow, kept buzzing with notifications from that stupid server denki added him to.

he stared at the screen for a while. thumb hovering over the app. then—he opened it.

a flood of posts. some boring. some weird. some flat-out wrong.

and then one message caught his eye.

|“so like… do students at u.a. really spar? like actually hit each other?”

the username was unfamiliar. your profile picture was a blurry sky—probably taken from your phone. and your bio just said “sleepy. always.”

he stared at your message longer than he meant to as he tried to decipher it.

then typed, slowly:

|“yes. we fight. real hits.”

a full six minutes passed.

he didn’t think you’d respond.

but you did.

|“wait WHAT. like actually?? is that even allowed???”

he snorted, eyes narrowing with a half-smile.

| “yes. is real. allowed. strong hits.”

your response came quicker this time.

| “dude! i’m american. our schools make us wear helmets to run in gym class. this is unfair.”

he let out something close to a laugh—just a small huff of breath—but it surprised him.

he didn’t answer. didn’t need to.

he already bookmarked your name.

he didn’t expect to hear from you again.

but the next night, just after dinner and before study hour, you were there.

| “hi again, explosion boy. (you got a better name?)”

he stared at the screen for a second before replying:

| “bakugo.”

| “ooh. that sounds cool. you sound cool. are you?”

he hesitated, then typed:

| “yes.”

you sent back the laughing emoji. then:

| “humble too.”

he didn’t know why it made his chest feel tight.

from there, it became… a thing.

late-night messages. voice notes. pictures.

you sent him one of your lunch—a sandwich and chips, nothing fancy—but you added,

| “i ate thinking of you. does that make me weird?”

he didn’t answer for a full hour.

then wrote:

| “no. i like that.”

you replied with a blushing emoji.

he stared at it too long.

he never liked phone calls. they were too much. too close.

but your voice was—soft. kind. playful in a way that made his chest ache.

your first voice note was just:

“hi. it’s weird hearing myself talk to you, but i wanted you to know what i sound like.”

and he listened to it.

three times.

the first time just to hear your tone. the second to understand every word. the third because… he missed it, even if it had only been a minute long.

his reply was rough. hesitant.

“hi. uh. i… don’t like talk. much. but… i like yours. voice.”

you sent back:

| “that was the sweetest thing ever, actually.”

after that, you started calling.

not every day. not long.

just enough.

he’d lie on his bed, staring at the ceiling, half-listening to your rambles about work and siblings and the weather. he didn’t talk much. didn’t know how to say all the things he was feeling in a language that always made his tongue trip.

but you didn’t mind.

you’d say, “you don’t have to talk. just stay on.”

so he did.

it happened slow.

your voice became part of his routine.

your good morning texts came while he was getting ready for class. your “i’m heading to bed, katsuki” messages always landed when he was on patrol.

you started sending pictures of things you loved. a book. your porch light. a sunset from your window.

he started sending them back.

once, he sent you a picture of his hand after training—bandaged, calloused, rough. and you wrote:

| “ i hope you rest, even when you think you don’t need it.”

and that line just… stayed.

for days.

he reread it during class. during silence. during nights when his head was too full and nothing felt steady.

he didn’t say he missed you.

but he did.

quietly. constantly.

time difference was cruel.

he hated that you were waking up when he was falling asleep.

he hated how sometimes he’d send a long message and forget what he wrote by the time you answered.

he hated how his chest twisted when he saw your name and couldn’t respond.

but you always made it easy.

“ i know you’re tired. you don’t have to talk. i just wanted to say i’m thinking of you… i’m still here. still cheering for you. always.”

you made it feel like you were closer than you were.

and yet, the space between you ached more with every week.

he didn’t notice when he fell.

not until kirishima asked him why he was smiling at his phone.

not until his chest ached when you didn’t text.

not until he caught himself learning english phrases just to tell you things the right way.

he didn’t tell anyone.

not even you.

but he sent you a voice note at midnight, after a long day, voice hoarse and quiet:

“i… i like talk to you. always. i wait for you. even when late. just so you know.”

you didn’t reply with a voice note.

you replied with a text:

| “me too, katsuki. every day.”

he didn’t sleep that night.

it came suddenly, the text message read:

| “if i ever came to japan… would you wanna meet me?”

he sat up in bed like he’d been punched.

heart pounding.

he typed.

deleted.

typed again.

finally, he sent:

| “yes. i want. i wait for you.”

and then he waited.

one hour.

then two.

you didn’t reply that night.

and he told himself it was okay.

even if it wasn’t.

two weeks.

that’s how long it took.

two weeks of silence. of almost texting you. of wondering if he’d said something wrong.

then—midnight.

his phone buzzed.

| “come outside kats <3 ”

his hands shook.

he ran.

didn’t care who saw. didn’t care that he was barefoot.

and there you were.

standing at the gate. hoodie on. suitcase by your side. scarf he mailed you wrapped around your neck.

you smiled.

“hey.”

he didn’t say anything. just stared.

you stepped forward. nervous.

“you’re taller than i thought,” you teased.

he swallowed hard. voice rough.

“you’re… real.”

you laughed. tears in your eyes.

“told you i’d come.”

the aching, the quiet missing, the longing—

and then he held you.

and everything he’d been holding in— spilled into the way he buried his face in your neck and breathed like he could finally exhale.

[enjoythebutterflies33]

✮ What happened to hello | Lando Norris ✮

Summary: Quick little drabbled based on all the speculation of Lando getting a bad haircut because he wore his hat so much at the Mexican GP

word count: 848

a/n: I haven't wrote in a long time so I'm pretty rusty, go easy on me! I also wasn't entirely sure how I wanted to wrap up the ending, so yeah, sorry for that!

“Take the hat off Lando” You playfully demand with a squint of your eyes as soon as Lando’s face appears on your laptop screen. 

You’re currently on day 14 of being apart since Lando left for the triple-header and it’s eating you both alive. You haven’t been apart for longer than seven days at a time, in almost a year. Everyone around you, even the fans, call you two codependent, but really, you were just in love and wanted to spend as much time together as possible. 

Between the time zone differences and you both working so much, you’ve found it difficult to spend much time together. You’ve found comfort in being able to keep up with Lando from all of the fan and official F1 content posted online. 

You’ve gotten a giggle out of all the speculation surrounding Lando’s hair. It started on the first media day in Mexico, when it appeared Lando had gotten a haircut, but his hat stayed on the entire day. 

The next day was when the rumors actually started, Lando hadn’t taken his hat off again and every fan you came across was freaking out and cracking jokes that Lando got a bad haircut and was embarrassed about it. 

Initially, aside from enjoying all the posts, you hadn’t given it much thought, assuming Lando was mostly wearing the hat because of the heat; but then you realized Lando hadn’t sent you any photos without the hat on, and the handful of late night facetimes you had, he was already in bed with his hoodie up and it was mostly dark. 

Whenever you and Lando are apart, you always made sure to keep each other still included in the day to day parts of your lives; you were always sending photos, videos and voice notes until you could facetime or be with each other again. 

Lando hadn’t changed your familiar routine, he just never had hair showing, which was a little odd, but nothing concerning. You admittingly missed the post shower selfies or the sweaty, messy haired, tired post race selfies. 

You’re instantly met with a giggle from Lando “What happened to hello baby.” Lando’s sat in his drivers room, he’d got a couple hours break between practice and qualifying and wanted to make the most of your shared free time to squeeze in a quick facetime with you.

“Hello baby” You grinned cheekily. “I’ve missed you so much, did you get a bad haircut?” You giggled 

Lando raised an eyebrow as another giggle slipped past his lips. “Did I get a bad haircut?” 

You nodded quickly “You haven’t taken your hat off the entire time you’ve been in Mexico, so show me”

“And how would you know that, hmm?” Lando asked with a smirk. Lando was initially confused, but now all he wanted was to play into the fun he was having. 

A bright rosy blush crept up your cheeks as you briefly glanced away from Lando on the screen. Lando’s now grinning mischievously, enjoying getting to tease you. “Do I need to talk to Osc or have you been creeping on me?” 

Before you even get a chance to answer, Lando starts giggling again and shaking his head. You pout and cross your arms. “A bad haircut is the only explanation for the hat and not getting my selfies”

“Your selfies?” Lando questions, once again raising an eyebrow. He knows exactly what selfies you’re talking about, but one thing about Lando Norris is that he loves to tease his girlfriend.

“I want my post race selfies back Lando” 

Lando smiles widely, taking a moment to take in all of your soft sweet features. Lando hadn’t intentionally been keeping anything from you, the few days he had been in Mexico had been busier than usual and it slipped his mind. “I’m sorry my love, I promise you’ll get one after quali”

“I better” You murmur, arms still crossed against your chest. You did miss the selfies, but you weren’t actually annoyed with him, in fact any feelings that even remotely resembled annoyance or hurt from the past few days all stem from a place of missing Lando. 

Lando knows you better than you know yourself, so he knows that if he doesn’t do something in the next few minutes, the call is going to take a sharp turn from playful and fun to somber and probably leave at least one of you in tears. Neither you or Lando were one to shy away from your emotions, but if Lando could hold off on it, until he could guarantee you his undivided love and attention, that's what he’s going to do. 

Lando winks at you, before taking off his hat and running his hand through his hair. “Is that better my love?”

A small gasp passes your lips, before you break out into the widest smile that Lando had seen in weeks. “Lando!” You squeal happily. “You look so handsome, why have you been hiding your hair?”

“I haven’t been hiding my hair, you doughnut,” Lando laughed. “It’s hot and I like my hat”

[hyunebunx]

˖˙ ᰋ ── hyunjin messes up and kkami helps him apologize

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. genre: fluff (might be the cutest thing i wrote recently)

﹙ʚɞ˚﹚. a/n: this is definitely inspired by the new book i'm obsessing over right now so pls enjoy and let me know what you think!! <33

“Well, well, look who finally remembered he has a loving partner missing him at home.”

You hear Hyunjin sigh on the other end, sheepish, obviously expecting you’d cut him some slack for disappearing for days, like talking to him wasn’t the best part of your day. Touring was hard, and he’s been insanely busy from day one – you get it. That’s why, your tone’s more playful than intended, only being able to let the phone ring for two heartbeats before rushing to answer and let his velvety voice bring sunshine back into your dull life.

“Hello, the absolute love of my life I think about daily.” He clears his throat, brushing over your comment in hopes you’re not truly upset he hasn’t called in so long. Two days weren’t a big deal, but for clingy people like you and him, going 48 hours without hearing what the other has been up to was torture. It was just enough time for insecurity to creep in, feeding you lies upon lies about how he’d forgotten your relationship and was currently in the process of replacing you with someone else, someone better and more worthy of owning his heart.

Your heart flutters, a grin finding its way onto features despite your attempts at stopping it. “Hello, Hyunjin.”

“Who the fuck is Hyunjin?”

No longer able to keep the happiness at bay, you burst out laughing, the aggravation clear as day in the absence of his usual pet name. Hyunjin was your baby, nothing else. His name only ever left your pretty lips you couldn’t wait to press against his only when the situation called for seriousness.

Settling down, you ignore his displeased huffing. “The guy who hasn’t called me in a week. You might know him.”

You’re teasing. You both know it, just like he knows that behind your words, the only genuine thing is the longing and the wish to have him close again, missing the steady beat of his heart and his familiar warmth that usually lulled you to sleep, badly. Hyunjin has always been great at reading between the lines, figuring you out easily, like you were nothing more than an unchallenging puzzle he could solve with his eyes closed.

“A week? I know I messed up, love, but it’s only been two days. Not even, just about 45 hours.” You hear sheets rustling on the other end, helping you picture him lounging about in the hotel bed, hair most likely still damp from his previous shower. For once, the time difference was not absurd, allowing you to stare wistfully at the moon with certainty the other was doing the same, sharing stories of your love and trusting she’ll keep them safe.

“You counted?” You giggle, making yourself more comfortable on the couch, right next to Kkami who is sleeping soundly.

“I’ve been counting the hours until I can see you again the second I stepped outside our apartment.” He confesses, voice suddenly heavy with emotion before he gasps, ruining what could have been a sweet moment. “You’re telling me you haven’t?”

Of course, you have. Time seemed to go by incredibly slowly whenever he wasn’t near, the increasing distance causing his magnetic pull to grow weaker each day, but never diminishing, never losing its hold on you. That was impossible.

“No.” You lie blatantly, leaning back against the couch casually, one hand moving to slowly pet Kkami’s head whose slumber gave him the perfect excuse to ignore you.

“Liar.”

For the first time in your life, the fact that he knew you like the back of his hand was annoying.

“Don’t change the subject! You’re still not in the clear for forgetting about me for two whole days, Hyunjin.” You’re not actually mad, just feeling a little bit neglected. Hyunjin has never gone MIA like that, without even texting you brief updates throughout the day just so you’ll know he was still alive and kicking. Your boyfriend was thoughtful, sweet, and considerate – the radio silence you got for the past two days was very unlike him.

“I didn’t forget.” He counters, and you’re sure he’s shaking his head vehemently, denying all of your accusations. “I could never forget, not in this lifetime or any others.”

“Liar.” You mock him, making a face he can’t see and tease you about like he’d usually do. “You could have texted, at least. Let me know you’d be busy.”

“I’m sorry, love.” His voice is soft, apology genuine as can be when he doesn’t try to justify himself or find excuses. Hyunjin is aware that if the roles were reversed, he’d feel the same way you’re feeling right now, the anxiety and worry eating at him from the inside and leaving behind a restlessness he couldn’t shake off no matter how hard he tried to. And he does, to an extent. Not being able to contact you drove him on the brink of insanity, making him moodier and more difficult to work it, which was so unlike him.

“Can I talk to Kkami?” He adds, trying to make it up to you in his own, creative way you’ve come to love.

“What?” You can’t help but laugh, not sure you heard him right.

“Pass the phone to Kkami for a moment, please?”

Now you’re curious, wondering what that beautiful mind had in store for you this time. You’ve been dog-sitting Kkami since he left, sending him regular updates in hopes of brightening up his day and keeping the homesickness at bay. Your camera roll has been full of pictures and videos of Kkami - walking him, playing together and being cute just for Hyunjin’s delight. A small price to ensure your boyfriend’s everlasting happiness.

“Should I leave you two alone? Give you some privacy?”

He laughs, and you hear the sound of a bag zipping up. “Yes. This is just between us boys, sorry baby.”

Shaking your head with a smile, you do as he asks, lowering the phone close to Kkami’s ear like the pup could actually catch Hyunjin up on what’s been happening around the house since he left. At the sound of his owner’s voice, Kkami’s eyes open as his ears perk up, visibly excited to hear him after so long. With his tail waggling, Kkami listens attentively to whatever Hyunjin is telling him, sleep long forgotten as you start giggling next to him, not believing your eyes.

Kkami was not an affectionate dog, often biting or growling at your lover like he was sick of him. Hyunjin’s presence and fussing were a bore, the dog quickly growing tired of his excited nature, even though your boyfriend was the person he loved most in the world.

That’s exactly why, you’re taken aback when he sprints off the couch, running a lap around the living room before returning to jump at your feet, barking and licking the hand closest to him excitedly.

Dumbfounded, you bring the phone back to your ear laughing. “What did you say to him? He’s suddenly so happy to see me.”

“He’s groveling in my stead. I told him to show you how much I miss you.”

Your heart melts, and suddenly he’s all forgiven as tears well up in your eyes. “Hyun…”

“Actually, I asked him if he wanted a treat.” Your tears get absorbed right back as a laugh bubbles out of the both of you, with Kkami jumping into your lap to beg properly. “I guess he figured I wasn’t there to give him some, so now he expects them from you.”

“You set me up.” You say, voice laced with playfulness as you stand up, scooping Kkami with one hand to fulfill his request. A true glutton, he’d never forgive you if you denied him his beloved snacks.

“Maybe. But my words had the desired effect.” His tone is softer now, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “You’re laughing.”

Yet, the joy didn’t reach its full potential, and never will with hundreds of miles between you. Happiness in its truest form found you in a handful of moments, and for most of them, Hyunjin was right by your side, fueling you with the love and devotion he held for you and you alone. He made you happy like nobody else, helping you see color even on the darkest days. Your beloved loved painting, that’s what he did, you just never thought he could bring forth his talent and make you see beauty in everything, guiding you to see the world through his eyes that always sparkled like he held the entire galaxy in them.

“Baby.”

Hyunjin gasps so loudly, almost like he is on the verge of bursting with happiness, matching Kkami’s energy to a T, ready to jump through the phone to feel your love and affection again.

“Can we facetime? I miss your beautiful face.” You add once Kkami is back on his own paws, devouring the stinky treat in your hand as you crouch to his level.

“Facetime? Love, I’ll literally catch the earliest flight and be there in record time! This little screen isn’t cutting it anymore, I need to see you with my own eyes before I get so desperate I start walking back just to be in your arms!”

And that is your cue to get on a plane first and finally visit your boyfriend before he keeps his word and ends up at your doorsteps with nothing but a duffle bag and a sob story about how much he missed you to justify his careless actions.

[mejaemin]

trained him well - choi seungcheol

wc: 0.8k

summary: chan calls about his relationship problems, surfacing memories of a time where seungcheol used to cause the same trouble

warnings: light cursing, suicide mention (as a joke), fluff, cuddling, pet names

an: i literally just wrote this in like 30 minutes bc i got random inspo for it. i lowk hate doing things like this, including readers from one fic in one with a “different reader” but i felt like it’d be fun to do this pov !!! i hope evb enjoys my coups debut !!!

(this is a second pov to my other work 6 hours !!! i don’t think it’s necessary to read it but things would probably make a little more sense if you did)

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

you’re laying with seungcheol in bed, his obnoxiously loud snores filling the room as he sleeps on top of you. his cheeks are puffy and smushed, and his lips are parted with the way he rests his head on your chest. every once in a while he’ll subconsciously snuggle into you a little more when he feels your nails scrape his scalp, soothing him even when he’s in his dreamland.

it’s your boyfriend’s day off, the office going on a company wide vacation for some holiday. all of his friends have off too, and after their late night celebration yesterday he’s been sleeping all morning into the afternoon. you couldn’t complain, knowing that with your allergies to working this fits right in with your everyday routine. his body is heavy on top of yours, going fully dead weight in his slumber but it’s just the right amount of pressure to feel comfortable, lulling you back to sleep.

just as your mind slips from its last bit of consciousness, it’s brought right back by the loud, annoying screech of a phone ringing. sifting through the sheets for whoever’s it is, you pull out seungcheol’s phone. it’s chan who’s calling, and you really couldn’t be bothered to let your boyfriend know, especially when his ringtone didn’t even wake him up. declining the call, you set it back down and try going back to sleep before it rings again.

accepting defeat, you gently push the man’s shoulder. “cheollie, get up..” you whine, just as displeased as he is when he picks his head up.

he squints, looking up at you. “hm?” he looks incredibly displeased, and you almost want to pinch his cheeks at his furrowed brows and pout.

“chan is calling.” you hand him his phone, and he sighs heavily at the disturbance.

“so? i’m too tired for this-“ the call ends, having taken to long to pick up. it starts right back up again, his caller id paired with a photo of him while drunk filling the screen.

“that’s the third time, honey. maybe you should answer?”

he sighs, letting his head fall back down against you before putting it on speaker next to his face. their conversation is brief, seungcheol too comfortable and tired to keep it up any longer than necessary. it makes you laugh, chan whining and panicking as he vents to the elder about his relationship issues. apparently he’s been given the silent treatment, and he’s so distressed he could ‘actually throw up’ over it. your boyfriend asks why, and when he learns how stupid the situation is, yet eerily similar to one he’s been in before, the only advice he can give is “you did that to yourself, man.”

truthfully, the situation is a bold parallel to one you and your boyfriend have been in yourselves. chan ate the last of his girlfriend’s food, and is now receiving the silent treatment among other consequences. though, you’re different now, and your cheollie knows better than to mess with you or get you angry. sometimes, you think he’s actually scared of you when you’re mad. regardless, chan’s predicament makes you laugh, feeling relief that you don’t experience stuff like that anymore.

he eventually hangs up the phone, turning to you. “how familiar does that sound, hm?”

you hum, “it sure is similar to how we used to be, isn’t it?” he nods, “you wouldn’t do that to me now though, right?”

your expression turned serious, and he’s almost too quick to nod and kiss the clothed skin between your breasts in confirmation. “of course not, i’d never eat your food, baby. now, should i actually call his girlfriend, or..?” he trails off, now feeling almost as if he’s in trouble too, uncertain as to whether or not he should meddle in their issues.

you nod, shrugging. “go ahead, i don’t see why not.”

he nods, reopening his phone to search for chan’s girlfriend’s contact. once he finds it, he calls her and reluctantly relays the news. he reiterates as many times as possible that he’s on her side, agreeing that chan is wrong and he’s only relaying his ‘dying message’ they share a laugh, and she apologizes for dragging him into their mess. you say hello as well, laughing about the similarity together before the call ends.

he throws his phone to the other end of the bed, sighing as he finally relaxes into your skin again. “i’m so happy that’s over. i was scared as if i was the one who did something..”

you kiss his crown, his face hidden in your body. “you’d never, though. i trained you well, didn’t i?” you giggle, running a hand over his hair like you would to a pet.

he nods. “after that one time where you literally sent death threats, i nearly had a heart attack. and getting silent treatment? don’t even get me started, not talking to you for three days straight over a donut had me almost killing myself. i definitely know better than to fuck with you like that.” he goes on, already in a nervous ramble at the idea of receiving a punishment like that again. you may have been a little harsh, but that’s what happens when your girlfriend’s buttons get pushed. at least he’s better now, and isn’t making mistakes like his friend lee chan.

───── ⋆⋅ ⊹ ⁺ 𐔌 ᩧ ຼ ͡ ৯ ♡໒⁀ ᩧຼ ꒱ིྀ ⁺ ⊹ ⋅⋆ ─────

[hysteria-things]

HEYY I LOVE YOUR STORIES COULD YOU MAYBE DO ONE FOR CHRIS OR MATT WHERE HE MEETS A GIRL ON TOUR WHEN SIGNING AUTOGRAPHS AND TELLS HER TO MEET HIM IN THE TOURBUS THEN YKK

♛ ONE ° •

ʚ♡ɞ 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 | 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 | 𝐍𝐄𝐗𝐓 ʚ♡ɞ

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: dom!matt x reader

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: the versus tour takes place in your hometown! while doing autographs, you seem catch the matt sturniolo’s eye.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: SMUTTY SMUT, swearing, choking if you squint, making out, oral (male and female receiving), dry humping (?), face fucking, spanking, p in v, overstimulation, dumbification, marking, some degradation/praising, hair pulling, squirting, cream pie, ROUGHH

ASSUME YOU’RE ON THE PILL!

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2,427

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: i added this to my welcome post but i’m going to say it here too. my requests are now CLOSED because i’ve been getting overwhelmed and i want to get them done LOL but my inbox is still open so feel free to chat with me :)

idk when i’ll open them again, but they will be eventually!

the moment you’ve been waiting for for months has finally arrived. you and your best friend hannah were lucky enough to get tickets to the sturniolo triplets tour in your hometown.

currently, the small talk line moves slowly but surely. your friend is decked out in purple for nick while you’re wearing blue for matt.

“we’re next!” hannah gushes, clapping her hands in excitement. she pushes you ahead of her. “i’m scared. you go first.”

you roll your eyes playfully. honestly, you’re not nervous to meet your favorites. you feel chill, which is the opposite of what you thought you’d be like.

matt greets you by hugging you tight and smiling. “how are you?” he asks, taking his card and signing it.

“i’m doing good.” you return his smile. “you liking the tour so far?”

he nods, eyeing you up and down. he feels something different about you. this doesn’t feel like any other small talk.

“i love it.”

the security man motions for you to go on ahead. of course, you listen and start to grab your items, but matt stops you. “do you have a boyfriend?”

see, if this were any other person you’d be weirded out by this question; but because it’s matthew sturniolo, you answer.

“nope.”

he licks his lips, taking the card that he signed and flipping it over to write something.

the scary security is getting angry and impatient with you, so you can only read what he wrote as you walk away. your eyeballs almost burst out of your skull.

i want to see you after the show.

now, you and hannah are standing in the red carpet line before the show actually starts.

you guys talk until it’s your turn, the both of you going since you want a group picture. first is chris, then nick, and lastly matt. he hugs you longer than the other two.

a chill runs down your spine when his voice tickles against your ear. “i’ll meet you outside later, right?”

he pulls away, getting ready to pose for the picture, but you nod for an answer.

“that was so much fun!” hannah screeches as you guys walk to the parking lot.

you agree, before stopping. “i need to go back and use the restroom. do you mind taking my stuff with you to my car?”

she grins, grabbing your stuff. “sure thing.”

you speed walk back to the venue, fewer and fewer people flooding the area as you wait.

a door opens moments later, sounding like the backstage door, and you turn to the source.

you blush, your cheeks heating up more and more the closer he gets with that damn smile on his face.

pinch me this can’t be real.

“hi,” he says lowly.

“hi,” you repeat back.

he looks at his watch. “they’re yapping away in there so we should have some time.”

you’re not sure what that means but again: since it’s matthew fucking sturniolo… you’ll listen without a doubt.

your heartbeat pumps rapidly in your chest when he sneaks you into the tour bus.

you kind of feel bad for leaving hannah behind… but this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

the bus looks way bigger on the outside than the inside, and you’re still trying hard to wrap your head around that you’re with matthew. fucking. sturniolo.

he admires the way you take it all in with his hands shoved into his pockets. he’s sure you’re thinking about so many things right now, but the only thing he can think of is how badly he wants to fuck you.

thinking about a fan that way is insane, but he just finds you so much different than any other fan girl. you’re confident, kind, and gorgeous.

you finish observing the tour bus and smile wide at him. “it’s very cool in here.”

“yeah.” he chuckles. “the beds are a tight squeeze though.”

you giggle, and he steps closer. your mind runs a million miles a minute with each step he takes. “do you trust me?” he questions, now inches away from you.

you raise a brow suspiciously. “should i not?”

he smirks, shaking his head. “i’m just checking.” he places his hands on your hips gently, running them up and down.

leaning towards your ear, he whispers. “be good for me, yeah?”

your legs subconsciously squeeze together, and he cups your cheeks with his palms. he leans in slowly. he hesitates when his lips ghost yours to see if you’d protest, but because you don’t, he kisses you.

his tongue licks your lips to indicate that he wants you to open, but you don’t. you feel the coldness of his rings on the side of your neck before he squeezes. when you gasp at the sudden contact, that’s his sign for his tongue to enter your mouth. “you promised you’d be good.” he says between the kiss.

you smirk. “i didn’t promise anything.”

he snarls, leaning back in. the make-out goes on for at least thirty seconds before he pulls away, the lipstick you had on now smeared on both of your mouths.

your eyes have a mind of their own and look down, seeing his rock-hard erection as clear as day through his jeans. “get on your knees.”

your eyebrows shoot to your hairline at the sudden tone change, but you obey either way.

he wastes no time to unbuckle his belt to pull down his jeans, his dick springing out right in front of you. the tip is red and leaking pre-cum. you open your mouth wide without him having to tell you, and he smirks.

leaning in, he grabs your hair and stops you. “no.” he says.

instead, he slaps the head on your tongue before pushing in slowly. it’s like you can feel every vein enter your mouth, gagging in the process when he’s deep in your throat. “holy shit.” he breathes, seeing how much of him you took.

it’s not all of it, but it’s more than he thought. you give him puppy dog eyes through your lashes, despite them being glossy.

he starts to thrust into your mouth, jaw slack as he watches his dick run past your lips in one swift motion. the grip on your head stays tight, him hunching over slightly to get deeper.

you moan at the shape protruding in your throat, the gagging and sloppy wet noises making you turned on even more. “fuck i’ve been wanting to do this since you opened that pretty fucking mouth of yours.” he pants, moving at an ungodly speed that makes it hard for you to breath. “do you just let random guys use this mouth? sure seems that way.”

you moan again, lifting yourself off of the ground the tiniest bit so you can feel the top of his shoe on your swollen clit.

whimpering at the feeling, you start to grind yourself on it while he still fucks your mouth. your arms wrap around his leg, humping faster like a bitch in heat.

“that’s a little pathetic.” he laughs hoarsely, groaning when his dick twitches. “so, so needy for me.”

you let out a pained sob because along with your throat, the feeling of you grinding also hurts. it would be best if you had something way more than his shoe.

“s-shit.” he whimpers, pulling out to where only the tip is in your mouth, making sure you get all of his cum on your tastebuds. he smears the rest on your lips.

matt lifts you from the ground, bending you over the small table that they have. he grabs your ass before giving it a light spank.

it’s his turn to kneel now, simultaneously taking off your leggings. he bites your ass before sliding your panties over. you feel his breath against your aching core. “jesus christ.” he mumbles. “you’re dripping down your legs already. aren’t you just an eager thing?”

he spreads your folds with his thumbs, blowing cool air on them that makes you jolt. you’re too sensitive for that.

then, your phone starts to ring right next to you. it’s hannah.

shit.

you cannot not answer, because if you don’t she’ll think something is wrong. you swipe, putting the phone on speaker. “hell— oh.”

matt immediately digs into you, eating you out like he hasn’t eaten ever in his life.

“where the hell are you? i’ve been waiting by your car for like thirty minutes. using the bathroom shouldn’t take this long, y/n.”

the man below you squeezes your thighs, spreading yourself wider to practically be nose-deep inside of you. your eyes roll back hard, mouth hanging open with silent moans leaving it. “hello?”

“h-hannah i’m sorry i’ll— mm— be out s-soon. i’m sorry.”

“are you okay?” she questions.

with that, matt starts sucking at your bud, causing your legs to shake. you grip the table as hard as you can, your upper body giving out and laying flat on the surface in front of you.

“yes i’m fine!” you say, trying to reach for his head and push him away, but that only makes him grab onto you harder.

he’s fascinated by the way you taste it’s almost hypnotizing. your arousal drips down his chin, and the way he’s sucking has your orgasm wash over you without warning. “i’m cumming.” you whine, and you feel the smug smile on his face.

“oh, so you’re coming? thank god because it’s a little chilly out here,” hannah replies.

“fuck yes.” you moan but cover it by clearing your throat. “i mean, yes. i will be coming in a-a bit.”

she sighs through the phone. “okay.”

you quickly hang up without saying goodbye, holding on for dear life since your release knocked your legs out.

he holds you, getting up and wiping your cum off of his face. “you’re a bit of a bad girl, aren’t you?”

spank.

“leaving your friend out there all alone.”

spank.

“so that you can fuck me.”

spank.

“like a slut.”

spank.

you wince every time he hits you, the stinging tingling on your ass. he grabs your hips and arches you more.

he moves his tip up and down at your entrance teasingly, getting wetter by the second. “matt, please.” you whine, your pussy desperate for his cock. “please fuck me.”

he stops, waiting for a beat before pushing into you like it’s no big deal. he’s big for sure, but because of your wetness, he slides in perfectly. the both of you moan, and matt stares at where you conjoined. “your pussy’s fucking amazing.” he groans. “by far the best i’ve ever had.”

you start to bounce back on him since he’s taking his sweet ass time, but out of nowhere starts pounding into you.

whatever they have on the table starts to either fall or rattle from him railing into you. he takes your hands and pins them behind your back. “harder.” you wince out, and he whistles.

“you have no idea what you just asked for.” he says, doing the opposite and slowing down. “you won’t be able to speak, baby.”

baby. you moan at the nickname.

you’re way past the point of ‘omg i’m hanging out with matt sturniolo!’

you try bouncing your ass back again, but this time he smacks it and spreads your legs wider to plow into you deeper. “so impatient.” he sighs.

all you can do is scream and gasp for air with each thrust, hands balled up into fists.

your mind becomes blank once your eyes cross, your mouth hung open with your chin resting on the table. he hits just the right spot each time, squeezing around him.

“i— i—” you try to warn that you’re close, but your mind won’t let you.

he wasn’t kidding about the won’t be able to speak part.

“you can do it,” he says, knowing damn well you can’t.

your body becomes limp like a rag doll, matt having completely corrupted you.

he tuts fake pouting. “look who’s cock drunk. be a good girl and cum for me. you deserve it.”

blabbing a response, you squirt before cumming harder than before. usually, you’d be embarrassed, but you’re too far gone to care.

“that’s so hot.” he grunts, fucking you through your orgasm. “come on, baby. one more.”

“i can’t.” you sob, his hand letting go of yours before wrapping your hair not once but twice to lift your body to his.

“you can and you will,” he says, your third orgasm already building up in less than two minutes.

tears run down your face, eyes fluttering shut from the overwhelming amount of pleasure. there’s no way the human body can have this much pleasure and be okay.

matt kisses your neck, sucking a big mark when he finds the sweet spot. “i know you’re close already.” he says, his cum starting to leak into you deep.

you can’t stop your body from spasming, letting out one last sob before you cum again.

he pulls out, laying down on top of you and rubbing around your body soothingly to calm you down from your heavy breathing.

he covers your full cunt with your underwear so his cum doesn’t ooze out. he kisses your clothed pussy, and you flinch from the sensitivity. “making sure it’s in there.” he smirks.

after a few minutes, he helps you sit on the table to put your undergarments back on. your eyes are half closed from the post-sex haze.

matt grabs you water and a bag of chips before giving you one last hug. you guys talk for a little before he makes sure the coast is clear for you to get out without being seen.

you’re limping like crazy back to your car, seeing hannah impatiently tap her foot while leaning against the door.

once she sees you, she comes storming over. “you’re so lucky you’re my best friend or i would kill you.” she threatens. “i’ve been standing here for an hour.”

“i’m sorry.” you rasp out.

she studies your face, and it looks like you quite literally saw god. “oh my god, are you sure you are alright? you look like you got jumped.”

“it’s the after-show feeling.” you lie. “i’m exhausted. let’s go.”

she doesn’t question anymore, not even the random snacks and water you have. you start the car and place the stuff matt gave you down until you see there’s a post-it note attached to the bag of sour cream and onion.

to my favorite fan,

xxx-xxx-xxxx

text me when you get the chance, gorgeous

- matt :)

𝐭𝐚𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

@bunbunbl0gs @lexisecretaccx @thy-mission @angelic-sturniolos111 @sophssturn @mattsneezing @janiellasblog @blahbel668 @meg-sturniolo @hearts4chris @mattslolita @sturnbaby @imwetforyourmom @tillies33ssss @sturnifyed @mayhem-72 @ripmattitude @p1xieswrld @alorsxsturn @txssvx @sttzee @multiluvr @delilahprentiss @matthewsspecial @sturnolio-luvs @sturniolho @suga-daddy-69 @tworosesblackthorn @luckistar-posts @gnxosblog @junnniiieee07 @sturnioloslurps @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @flowerxbunnie @imaslut4kehlani @sturniolosandmoree @hertvgirl @whoreforchrissturniolo @r4iyaa @sturniolotriplettoplover @mattybswife @freshsturns @loverrsposts @sturnlcvr @elliesturniolo1 @tpvmz @user283926392 @lalalands86 @sukiipjs @sturniologirl813 @leahrab @chrissturniolosslut @h3arts4harry @sturnioloblogs @creamoncreamoncream2 @luv4kozume @ivyyyyyysposts @mirxcle1 @iluvm4ttsturni0l0 @sturniol0s @sturniologirly @hbvfb

[horny-marbles]

Hihi! Unsure if you’d recognize me as 🧃 anon over on Tiv’s blog,,(I’m always found in the trenches over there) but I’ve been lurking on here for a bit now and can hold silent no longer!

As a fellow Ej main,,,, I gotta ask u. Erm what’s ur take on what HE would be like during period sex??? 👉👈

Ehe I love your work sm!!!!

hiiii yes i know u!! OK SO i'm using this as an excuse to post this fic i wrote a few months ago because i wasn't sure if i'd be shunned off this app for it lmfao, so like. i hope you got your answer 🫡

(also this is just some munch behaviour, but p in v is basically the same. he WILL get rabies. godspeed if you're on your period while he has his rut, you might actually get dicked into a coma)

(also also i'm not the proudest of this one but i've been fiending to post it so WHATEVER go my cannibal bf)

Bloodhound (Eyeless Jack x F!Reader)

CW: period oral, multiple orgasms, kinda public

wordcount 2.6k

It took forever to get to this point with Jack.

He’s not emotionally available. He doesn’t date. He doesn’t cuddle. He doesn’t care - at least, that’s what everyone at the mansion thought. He always keeps a distance, clinically cold, silent unless necessary. Most creeps only interact with him when they're dying and hoping he’d patch them up in time. You? You got in somehow.

It started with shared silences. You didn’t push, didn’t ask invasive questions. You treated him like a person, not a monster, not someone you can get something from. Maybe that’s what cracked him open.

Nothing about it was fast. It was Jack, after all. Glacial patience, iron self-control. And he… was a project in erosion. Small conversations, slow touches. Letting him fix a cut on your hand, not flinching at his claws, letting him hear your heartbeat up close while he stitched you up.

It took weeks for him to even look at you like something more than another resident of the mansion. Even longer to speak to you like you mattered. And months before you saw him with his guard down. Just a little. A crooked smile when you said something that caught him off-guard. He was cautious - frustratingly so - but over time, he allowed you closer.

Something changed along the lines. Eventually, you broke through. Maybe it was your quiet persistence. Maybe it was just time. Maybe he got tired of pretending your presence hadn't become sought out rather than just a nice surprise on the occasion.

Whatever it was, you were his now. And he was yours. Carefully. Quietly. Privately. Like something precious. It was gentler than you could've anticipated, but it felt monumental.

You knew he was demon enough to survive off flesh. You knew his senses were heightened - he’d mentioned it once, bluntly, like a clinical report. “Everyone in this house reeks. I ignore it. Easier that way.” You didn’t ask more.

So when your period started, you didn’t even think to tell him. Why would you? You weren’t the kind of person to make a big deal out of it out loud. You’d stuff a pad in your jacket, pop some ibuprofen, sulk, call it a day. Maybe mention it if sex came up to make sure he wasn't squeamish, but otherwise whatever.

He was NOT squeamish.

He was a fucking wreck, in such a visceral way that it knocked him off balance.

He didn’t realize it at first. Not consciously. There was just… a difference.

Your heartbeat was lower. Your temperature ran hotter. A subtle change in the chemistry of your sweat. Not bad - nothing ever was with you. But different. Complicated.

Jack tuned these things out. Hormones, sweat, stress, sex - this mansion stank of it. He’d learned long ago that the only way to keep his sanity was to ignore everything that wasn’t essential. If he let it in - really let it in - he’d never get peace again.

But this wasn’t the house. This wasn’t “ambient noise.” This was you.

And your scent had changed.

At first, it was small. Just enough to raise the hair on his arms. His instincts whispered to him in the background, tugged at the base of his spine like a hooked wire. Something important was happening. Something ripe.

The smell started sweet. Then it got wet. Iron and heat. Blood and sugar and skin. A slick, dizzying cocktail of copper and pheromones that made something deep in his gut twitch.

He realized - too late - that you were bleeding.

He’d smelled it before, of course. Lived with women in this house. It had never meant anything to him. Just another reason to stay away for a few days, let the hormone cloud settle and spare himself the migraine.

But this wasn’t just any blood. It wasn't the viscera and gore he was so used to when feeding. This wasn't about hunger and survival. It was about you. About everything else that came with it - your hormones, the heat under your skin, the scent of pain and lust and life. You were a walking furnace, and he was standing downwind from the smoke.

Jack hadn’t accounted for that when he lowered his defenses to let you in. He hadn’t even considered that it might affect him differently.

But now it was like every cell in his body was tuned to you. Your scent dragged claws down his brainstem, lit every nerve like a chemical explosion. His mouth filled with saliva he didn’t need. His muscles locked so tight it hurt to move.

And his cock was constantly throbbing. There was barely any angle to adjust, no distraction strong enough. His body was betraying him, rock-solid and aching, cock flushed and twitching behind his jeans like it wanted to rip through.

Not just hard. Rigid. Like his entire body was bracing against some invisible force. His shoulders tense. Jaw clenched. Claws scraping gouges into the inside of his palm just to focus.

He stayed away that first day. Locked himself in his room. Didn’t answer when you knocked.

But the second day, your scent wafted behind you when you passed by him in the hall, grazing under his nose like it was both mocking and luring him in, and his knees buckled.

You were too busy chasing your cramps away with painkillers and heat pads to notice your boyfriend's change in behaviour, though.

You never noticed the way he breathed around you, measured and tight and absolutely refusing to inhale through his nose. The way he kept his hands in his pockets, hidden, clenched. The way his voice went low and clipped when you got too close.

But the way he wouldn't even look in your general direction - allusive to an actual glance as it would've been - became too on the nose. The way his shirt clung to his chest. The sheen of sweat permanently on his collar.

His breath stuttered when you leaned over the sink at some point before heading to bed. You were just getting a glass of water.

And Jack folded like laundry.

“Sit down.” His voice was low, firm, strained. Out of nowhere.

You blinked and turned around slowly. “What?”

His head was tilted slightly downward, jaw clenched like he was about to snap it off at the hinge. “The couch. Sit.”

You sat, confused. Bracing for the talk. Surely, the strange behaviour meant he was just done, for some reason. That's what your homonal mind jumped to anyway.

He knelt between your legs without another word. Okay, so no talk.

You stare down at him.

He's kneeling. Still. Broad hands braced on your thighs, fingers twitching like he’s holding himself back from shredding you to ribbons. He’s staring at your padded pussy like he can see it through your pajamas, like it owes him money. Like it promised him something and he came to collect.

Your legs spread a little - not even fully open, but his breath shudders out like he’s been punched.

“Jack?” you murmur, half-laughing, half-nervous. “What are you doing?”

His claws curl tighter into your thighs. He doesn’t answer right away. You can see the war in his head, muscles in his jaw doing Olympics when they twitch. He lifts a hand and rubs his face hard, dragging clawed fingers from brow to chin like he’s trying to scrape the hunger out of his skull.

He leans closer. Breathes in. Then again.

“Fuck-”

It’s a hiss. Half-formed. Desperate. Almost makes you jerk back, not with fear or disgust, but with realization.

“Jack- people could walk in-”

“Don’t care,” he growls. Not harsh, just raw. Like it costs him to speak at all. “I'll kill them. You need to- fuck- open your legs.”

You’re already open, but you listen. You shift. Knees wider. Hips tilted forward.

The second you do it, he twitches. Full body.

And then he leaps. Not violent, but like a man dying of thirst finally handed a glass of water. He buries his face in your clothed pussy and groans.

You feel it all: heat, vibration, desperation. He’s nuzzling hard through the fabric like it’s not enough, like he needs skin, taste, your fucking soul. His breath is hot, fast. You can feel him mouthing you over the cotton, and it sends sparks ripping through your spine.

“Jack- Jesus—wait, I'm on my-”

“Exactly,” he growls again, this time muffled against your cunt. “I need this.”

He yanks at your waistband, fast but careful. Pants and padded panties yanked off your ankles and tossed behind him on the floor. He looks deranged, mouth slightly parted, nostrils flaring, sweat beading at his temples.

And then - without asking, without warning- he leans in.

You jolt when you feel the first tongue.

Wet. Hot and starved. It licks from the bottom of your pussy to your clit in one slow, savoring drag. A moan vibrates against you - deep, long, throaty - and you feel how hard he’s gripping your thighs now, claws pressing in like they’re the only things tethering him to the floor.

The second tongue follows. Then the third. One on your clit. One swirling around your folds to pick up any trace of blood like he's licking a plate clean. The last one dips inside.

You choke out a sound that’s not even a word.

Jack doesn’t stop. Doesn’t breathe. He’s full-body focused, shuddering between your legs like he’s being electrocuted with pleasure just from tasting you. His tongues move in urgent patterns- suckling, lapping, sliding inside you - and the third one curls deep, pumping in slow, sinful thrusts like he’s tongue-fucking your cervix.

He's drinking you. Literally. You feel the small gush as your blood mixes with your arousal and his growl deepens. His head tilts, adjusting his angle like he’s trying to get more of it, and he moans again.

Jack doesn’t moan. He barely talks.

But right now, he’s loud and messy and desperate, to the point where - if you could have a moment of clarity - you would think his mating season came early.

Slurping noises echo off the walls, obscene and wet. You realize again where you are—the common room—and your whole body flushes.

“Jack- fucking hell, w-what if someone walks in-”

His only answer is to suck your clit into his mouth while his third tongue curls up inside you, pressing so deep it makes your vision stutter.

Your hips buck. He groans, and the vibration rattles your bones.

He moves faster.

Tongue on your clit flicking now, licking in fast little swipes. Second tongue dragging figure eights across your folds. Third tongue fucking you like it’s trying to crawl into your womb.

Your thighs are trembling. Your head tips back, hand flying to his head, burying in his hair. You feel his body - solid, trembling, tense with restraint.

You cum so fast it makes you choke.

It hits you like lightning, shattering through your spine, hips jerking, thighs locking around his head. You hear yourself whimper trying to stay silent, feel your body clamp around his tongues, and Jack just growls into you like it’s the best fucking thing he’s ever experienced.

He doesn’t stop. Not even when you’re shaking. Not even when the blood runs thicker.

He just pulls back slightly to breathe, and fuck, he looks wrecked. His mouth is soaked, chin slick with blood and spit, dark red smeared halfway up to his cheeks, coating his skin like warpaint. He stares at your cunt like he’s starving, heaving like it's hurting him to unlatch his mouth from your taste.

You see his hand now. The one not gripping your thigh with bruising force, wrapped around his cock. Fist pumping slow and vicious, like he’s trying not to cum from the taste of you alone.

Because he almost did.

You feel the heat of his stare. Like he’s burned every inch of your cunt into his brain. Like nothing else exists in this moment but your flushed, swollen pussy and the mess he just made of you.

He looks up at you with bloodied lips parted and tongues curling, one of them flicking over his bottom lip in a slow, hungry drag.

“You’re gonna cum again,” he says, voice rough and quiet like a threat. “You're gonna give me everything."

You whimper simply from the way he leans back in like he owns you, like he was born for this.

The first tongue enters slow this time, broad and heavy, pushing past your bullied entrance with a wet, obscene squelch. Your hips twitch. You’re already sensitive, but your body opens for him anyway, clenches like it knows what’s coming.

He groans low in his throat. You feel the way your blood drips down his tongue, how he laps it deeper inside you like honey from the comb.

Then the second tongue slips in. Coiling around the first like a twisting vine, filling and stretching.

You cry out softly, biting your lip. Jack moans, long and muffled and fuck just drown me in this pussy.

His third tongue curls upward, lashes across your clit in maddening, lazy strokes like he’s teasing you on purpose. Tongue-fucking up into your walls with two thick lengths, while the third plays you like an instrument.

You don’t even realize your legs are shaking again until your hips lift off the couch.

He follows, grinding his face deeper, mouth slightly clumsy from the way he's stroking his cock - so hungry and fast it's shaking his whole body between your legs. You glance down through half-lidded eyes just to see him leaking, twitching with every slick drag of his tongues inside you.

He’s drenched in you.

From the mouth down. His chin, neck, part of his chest where he pressed in too close. The scent of blood and heat clings to him like paint, thick and sweet and wrong, but he looks exalted.

“Fffuck,” he slurs against you. “Your blood- fuck, your cunt, tastes like fucking life-”

The words shake you. Filthy and sincere. He’s never been this devastated before, this starved. His tongues are working you over like you’re his last meal, like he’s feeding off of you. And fuck, maybe he is. Maybe something deep in his instincts, something more primal, is actually reveling in this.

His pace quickens. You can feel it, that edge coming again. Too fast. Too hard. Overstimulated but desperate, everything in your body pulling tight like a bowstring.

You grab at his hair, desperate to ground yourself.

One tongue thrusts hard, firm and deep. The second curls tighter, twisting against your walls. The third presses flat to your clit, and when he moans into you again, the vibration alone is enough to split you.

“Jack- Jack I’m-”

“Cum for me,” he growls. Muffled, throat clicking and rasping. Tongue still deep inside you. “Cum with my fucking name in your mouth.”

You do, and it leaves you raw.

Back arching. Hands clawing at the couch. Legs locking around his head so tight he grunts, but doesn’t stop. He leans into it, forces the orgasm to drag out, mouth still moving until you’re jerking, twitching, moaning high and sharp as your body convulses under the weight of your second release.

You have to pry him away with a weak hand on his forehead and a choked sob for him to unlatch his lips from your clit with a wet pop.

He’s panting against your pussy, blood and slick coating his face, and you can feel his body shaking between your legs with every feral pump of his fist, tight and harsh around his cock.

And he growls, low and feral, and you can only jerk back and look around to make sure no one was around as he cums hard between his knees, untouched by you, just from tasting your cunt and blood. Hot ropes splatter against the floor. His head tips back, face the most beautifully grotesque picture of bliss.

The room is silent but for your breaths. Heavy. Laced with the obscene stink of sex and blood and pure animalistic worship.

Jack wipes his face with the back of his hand only to lick the smeared blood off his knuckles. Not slow. Not seductive. Just hungry.

He looks at you like you’re the last thing he’ll ever need to taste.

“…We’re doing this every month,” he says, voice hoarse. “Every month.”

[aealzx]

Ooooookay I admit I'm a sucker for cross dress episodes that are tasteful/done well. And with that a sucker for cute boys in pretty clothes that go ding ding when they move X'DDD Girls in pretty clothes is a thing too, but then I'd have to draw boobs and I'd rather not |P

I started watching Sonic Underground.... for reasons I cant remember, and ittttt's actually not as terrible as I remember X'D The character designs are still horrid, and there's definitely some ugly dated stuff in there when it comes to other cultures. But the cross dress episode surprised me because I think the boys handled the situation very well. No complaints, all compliments to each other, and just vibing doing a job =u= I liked it enough that I gave into my like of drawing belly dancer clothes and doodled them while trying to adapt Happ's version into it.

Also enjoy this dumb lil meme snippet I wrote along with this.

___

“I still don’t understand how you’re better at this than Sonia,” Manic admitted with a chuckle, trying not to stare at the eye liner brush coming towards his eye.

“Experience,” Sonic answered simply from where he was sitting on Manic’s belly while he was laying on the floor, trying to get him not to move. “Now look up and stop moving- I said look up, not straight at the brush.”

Sonic was amused, but Manic was more worried about getting his eye stabbed. “Shouldn’t you worry about your own makeup?” Manic tried to defer, fidgeting nervously.

“Mine won’t take as long,” Sonic countered, giving a small sigh and giving up on being patient, free hand reaching up to grab Manic’s cheeks to hold him still. It would have been incredibly funny to watch him immediately squint as soon as the brush touched his eyelid, but the time crunch made it a little hard to enjoy. Getting Manic’s quills to lay flat had taken way longer than expected.

“Can’ yu jush s’per sp’d it?”

Okay that earned a small snort.

“Sure, if you don’t mind the burn of something zipping across your face extremely fast,” Sonic teased, grinning. “Close your eyes now.”

That was at least a little easier. Not being able to see the strange soft torture instrument coming allowed Manic to try to relax. “Yeah, no thanks,” he agreed, still flinching at each touch of the strangely cold feeling ink. “...This feels disgusting,” he complained after Sonic finished lining both eyes.

Sonic just chuckled again. “Sure does! But we’ll both look awesome. And unrecognizable. So deal with it. I’ll let you roll in the mud once we get the others back if you want.”

Manic snorted at the offer, feeling like that would be the opposite of what he would want. But who knew. Maybe a good mud bath would help him feel more like himself after all this dolling up. It was hard to not try to rub the makeup off his face. But it was a little impressive to watch Sonic put makeup on himself once he was done tormenting his brother. Smooth, practiced swoops with the eyeliner, not even looking at the mirror at some points. Dabbing his cheeks rapidly into a perfect blush. Tracing his lips with a different brush. At least the fake eyelashes didn’t look like something he was used to wearing.

True to Sonic’s word though, when he was done Manic had a hard time recognizing either of them. Something made incredibly apparent when he stepped closer to his brother and caught sight of his own reflection from the corner of his eye, jumping in startle and whipping around to look at it.

“What?” Sonic questioned, immediately concerned.

“I thought someone else was here,” Manic wheezed, breaking into a laugh as he put a hand over his racing heart, sagging.

Sonic just laughed aloud as well, taking that as a compliment on his work.

[bananami]

STFUATTDLAGG

character/s: choso kamo x afab!reader

SYNOPSIS: meangirl!reader x loser!choso is a pairing that lives in my head rent free so when you all voted for choso to be the next hot man i wrote for i knew this was what would come out of it so let’s get into it whores

WARNINGS: this is college based bc u know why. 18+, nsfw, mdni, the whole shebang, kiddos avert ur eyes IT'S ALL SMUT / also just be aware i did use fem language for reader. as always, i did not proof read xxx

A/N: delusion is like drugs for simps, and i am the crackhead

Choso isn't like a nerdy loser, more like he’s just an emo boy, he’s got that alternative look going on and in a school full of preppy rich kids he stands out like a sore thumb. Of course this leads to some not so nice kids being not so nice to him, to which like he literally could not care less. He pays no mind to what anyone thinks of him beyond of course what his brothers think of him.

And as much as people aren’t nice to him, they do not fuck with him directly, lowkey scared of his reactions. Especially following a specfic incident in which someone tried to pick a fight with him. At first he was going to just let it slide but then they said something rude about Yuuji and this man laid them out. People were sent to urgent care and everything. Choso was put on suspension and almost kicked out, but their family friend is a lawyer and threatened to sue the school and anyways (if you know who you know who) so he was allowed back at school and everyone’s a little weary of him. This doesn’t stop the mean comments from coming.

And you. You’re no exception. You made fun of him every chance you got. The way he always did his hair in that weird double bun updo, or how he had his nails painted black, his various piercings and tattoos, the way he dressed so much different, was so much different, than any of the other guys you knew at school.

And you were so disgustingly attracted to him. While everyone would sneer and make fun of him and you played along, in reality you were internally berating yourself.

Choso did his best to ignore you but to be honest in the end you were just too fun to mess with. He thought it was cute how you thought you could hurt his feelings, how you really tried, and didn’t realize that he had a thing for brats and that’s just what you were. Everyone else was too afraid to say it straight to his face ever since the fight except for you.

One time he caught you staring at him and he couldn’t help himself, leaning over with a careless smirk. "If you spent less time staring at me and more time paying attention to the lecture maybe you wouldn’t be failing the class."

"Fuck you, Choso.”

"You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You hoped he’d mistake your embarrassment for anger. He didn’t. You snapped back, as usual. "Maybe if you didn’t dress like such a freak, you’d actually have some friends.”

"Maybe if you weren’t such a bitch your boyfriends would actually stick around for longer than a few months."

The one stung, and you tried not to let it show. Thrown off your game, all you could bring yourself to reply back was: “don’t call me a bitch.”

He shrugged, as though he were bored with the conversation already. "I never said it was a bad thing, just that you keep dating dudes who can’t handle you."

"What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

He doesn't answer though, and you spend way too much time thinking about what he could've meant. Was he implying that he could handle you? Was that why he constantly found ways to poke at you? Did he like when you were a brat? Did it matter if he liked it? It led your fantasies down a deep and dark rabbit hole that you spent weeks harping on.

Things get even worse after you realize that Choso might’ve been right about your grades slipping and staring at him in class and whatnot. And (for plot reasons of course) that would mean your professor paired you up with him for the final project so that you’d stand a better chance at passing the class.

Which is how you find yourself standing outside of his apartment door, debating how much you need to actually pass the course for your degree. You kept coming to the same conclusion. You definitely needed to.

"You just gonna stand at my door like a creep or can you move so i can let you inside?” He stood at the top of the staircase up to his apartment, watching you with another bored expression.

You're reaction is second nature. "I’m the creep? How long were you just standing there watching me? Maybe I’d already knocked and you didn’t answer so I was waiting. Let’s get on with it, I don’t need anyone seeing me hanging around-”

"Alright relax, princess. No one’s around to hear you act like you hate me. Come inside and I’ll grab us something to drink.” He opened the door to let you both inside, holding it open for you to enter first.

"First off, I do hate you. And second, how do I know you’re not going to poison me?”

"Don’t worry, I wouldn’t poison you. The plan was going more in the direction of choking.”

"Choked to death? Good to know.”

"You implied killing. All i said was choking.”

"Oh, gross.” You groaned. You pushed away the images that were brought to your mind. Choso's hand around your throat, fingers in your mouth, his breathy whispers telling you what else he'd have you choking on by the end of the night.

It's not too bad for the first few hours. You start out working on the project in the living room, but Choso’s neighbors are loud as all hell and you eventually ask if you guys can move into a room away from that shared wall. And (of course for plot purposes) that would be his bedroom.

"Your bedroom is exactly as I pictured it would be."

"This is the part where I make fun of you for picturing what my bedroom looks like."

"Yeah weird and creepy, just like you.”

"Your insults are getting less and less creative.”

"Yeah well….shut up.”

He’s surprised at that, usually you’d come back at him with something witty and clever and he actually enjoyed it.

It’s quiet and he’s sitting at his desk while you lay casually on his bed when he decides now’s as good a time as ever, and he might never actually get you alone again to say it.

"You ever gonna admit that you find me attractive or keep lying to the both of us?"

You wince. "I don't find you attractive. Stop flattering yourself."

"You flatter me enough with all the staring and drooling you do over me in class."

"You're obsessive," you snap at him.

"At least i can admit it."

You're caught off guard, stuck between wanting to ask what he means and not wanting to give in to the obvious baiting he's doing. When he throws the study material down on to his desk and plops down in front of you on his bed, it seems like he's resigned to not giving you that choice.

"Tell you what, I'll tell you all of the dirty and depraved things I think about on a daily basis, and you can decide after whether you'd like to share those same thoughts of yours with me or not."

"Why would I want to hear any of the thoughts in your head?"

"Because a lot of them revolve directly around you." He's leaned so close you're almost touching one another. Your silence is enough to spur him on. "I think you've never been fucked properly before."

You can't contain the look that falls on your face. "Seriously? This what you think about? My sex life is none of your business, but I'm doing just fine in that department, thank you very much."

He ignores you. "I don't think you've ever been told to shut the fuck up and take it like the good girl I know you can be." That shut you up real quick. Choso is on his knees in front of you, hands cupping around your neck, his thumbs running across your cheeks. "You're whiney little fucking attitude not do it for your boyfriends?" He teased. "They not know how to deal with you when you're being a brat, huh?"

You're head moves without conscious effort, nodding to agree with him.

"You just want some attention, don't you?"

Another nod.

"You want my attention, don't you?"

Hesitation. But you can't help yourself, his presence looming heavy over you, pushing you to admit what you'd kept in the dark for so long.

One of his hands slithers from your throat, down your chest, under the sweats you threw on in a rush to get to his apartment. You're so distracted by his fingers that you don't notice his face moving closer until his mouth is prying yours open. That's all it takes from him to have you stroking your fingers through his hair, pulling it out of the buns they typically are held in.

"Such a little brat." He's hovering over you, pushing your hips into the soft cushion of his bed with his. "Feel how hard it makes me?" He teases as he grinds his hips down, his clothed cock sliding against your center. Your eyes flutter and he grips onto your face with one hand, squeezing firmly. "You're gonna fuck me tonight. Nod if you understand."

You can't believe how quick your head moves up and down. "You're gonna take off those pretty little panties you wore hoping I'd get to see and slide up and down my dick until I tell you to stop. I don't want you cumming until I feel you've begged enough."

It takes no time at all for him to flip the two of you and prop himself up on his forearms. His pants are shimmied off and thrown to his bedroom floor alongside yours.

Your hands are desperate to line him up, anticipation building to have him deep inside of you, but his shoot out to pull them up and place them against his chest. "No, no, no. You don't get me inside you yet, not until you prove to me you deserve it." He urges you along his shaft, flat against his stomach. "That's right, be a good little slut for me and let me feel that pussy slide against my dick."

You watch him from above, his face contorting from concentration to pleasure to near desperation. You've never felt as powerful as you did riding him. Not a single one of your boyfriends ever turning you on as much as Choso was right now. He made you work for it, praising you when you did what he asked, and you chased that praise.

"Shit, look at that baby," he grabbed your hair and yanked your face down to watch yourself slide against him. "Need to feel you squeeze that pussy around me. Fuck, slide me in, slide me in-" his loud groans matched your high pitched sound of relief at having him seated inside you. "Fuck this."

He flipped the two of you back over, gripping each of your legs and forcing them up. "Hold right under your knees for me. Good girl, keep yourself open for me, let me just use you." He fell to his forearms as he plowed into you, giving you no time to get used to any sort of pace.

You tried your best to hold your legs, but you wanted so badly to touch him. One of your hands wandered back up into his lose hair.

He could barely keep his eyes open, mumbling all kinds of truths you were sure he would've kept locked inside had he not been so drunk on the feel of being inside you. "So fucking pretty," he kissed you sloppily, "such a stupid fucking brat, just needed my cock inside you. Feel like heaven, baby. Gonna let me cum inside your little cunt, right? Made me wait so fucking long to have you, I deserve it. Don't I deserve it?"

You can barely form any coherent words, setting for nodding and breathy uh huhs.

"So fucking mean to me, and look how good I'm being to you, huh?" You feel the light slap of his head against your cheek. "Say your sorry, beg me to cum inside your pussy."

You do beg, your apology comes out in between the stuttering and slurring of your words, but you beg and plead with him until he concedes. It his own orgasm that pushes you over, his groans and relentlessness that follow, pushing himself passed the point of no return. You can see the beginning of what looks like tears in his eyes, and he has to force himself to stop, his hips jerking from the overstimulation.

He kisses you ruthlessly, letting his tongue claim your mouth in a manner more harsh than it is anything else. And when he pulls away and his eyes settle back on yours they're equally as harsh.

"No more shitty little boyfriends that can't handle you. I'll handle you. You want my cock, you ask nicely. Understand?"

"Yes," you let your lips peck his, surprising him, "what if I don't wanna be nice about it?"

He smirks, "try it and find out. Now get on your knees and suck my cock like the good girl I know you can be."

[melioraskz]

Birthday girl (what they got you for your birthday!)

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

A/N : so a couple of days ago (on the same day as a certain maknae in fact) was my birthday and I wanted to write this silly thing in celebration, however !!! God has better plans for me because I for the flu and was dead in bed for literally the entire weekend and half of this week which lead to me essentially having to postpone writing this until now !!! Funsiessss

Warnings : mentions of pet names, mentions of sex, fluffy skz

Pairings : ot8 x (fem) reader

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Chan :

Chan is a simple guy, keeping it classic, a pretty necklace with a heart on, if it was silver, gold or any other metal is simply decided depending on what you usually prefer, which he of course knows what you wear, he knows you like the inside of his glove ! Even if he knew you’d love the necklace he was probably sweating his balls off in nervousness giving it to you, his ears a pink shade whilst a big goofy smile on his mouth the entire time.

“Happy birthday, babygirl”

“Thank you, Chris”

Lee Know :

Now our guy Minho would probably give you an experience, most likely a trip to a cabin somewhere near a mountain where you two could be alone, far away from the stress of your ordinary life and a place where he can take a deep breath whilst having all his senses focused on you. You’d spend your birthday fishing, having a dinner in front of a bonfire and finishing the evening with sex in front of said bonfire, all his focus on you and only you.

“Happy birthday, y/n”

“Thank you, you really made it special, Minho”

Changbin :

Changbin is loud and doesn’t do anything halfway, he would not only host a party with all your friends and mutual friends with a giant cake for you to blow out all the one hundred candles off, but he would probably buy up a whole store for you, you’d get everything from soaps to dresses and even seven different flower bouquets! He’d be so proud too and wanting to show off how proud he is of you all night, you’re truly the star of the show.

“Changbin, honey… you already gave me flowers an hour ago?”

“So what!? I can only spoil my girl once a year like this! Happy birthday, baby”

Hyunjin :

Hyunjin would probably gift you a painting he has made himself, I mean he is an artist after all. It would be a portrait of you two, he’d use a couple photos he had on his phone for reference so the portrait is a completely unique piece which would have taken him at least a couple of months to put together into perfection! When you unwrap the painting your eyes would tear up, he really saw you this beautiful? It was perfect and would definitely be hung up in your home for all family and friends to witness how talented your amazing boyfriends is.

“It’s beautiful, thank you so much, baby”

“I’m so glad you like it, happy birthday, my love”

Jisung :

Jisung wrote you a song. It wasn’t planned to happen, he was at the studio one day, trying to compose another work for the team when his phone lit up, a message from you asking if he wanted to get dinner after your shift ended, after answering a happy yes to your suggestion he caught himself looking at his wallpaper a bit longer than usual, a photo of you two, smiling. You’re taking a selfie on his phone with a silly filter, kissing his cheek… oh he is smiling to himself and that’s when the idea hits him, of course? He had been stuck with what to get you for weeks now and he had it right in front of him! When it’s the big day and he press play you start to fully cry half way through which makes the poor boy panicking, pausing as he tries in panic to calm you down.

“I’M SO SORRY I JUST WANTED TO GIVE YOU A GOOD BIRTHDAY GIFT I’M SO SORRY I-“

“Han Jisung shut the fuck up and continue with the song before I have a mental breakdown, it’s so beautiful, thank you, I love you so much”

Felix :

Not only is Felix the only member that would actually bake you his own cake in your favourite flavour, but also would make you dinner (or takeout if he fails with the dinner as baking seems to be his strongest weapon in the kitchen). He would probably sneak into your home when you’re at work to set everything in motion, bringing bags of all the ingredients along with a huge bouquet of red roses that he would arrange in a vase of yours prettily on the dining table for you. When you come home from your work, you honestly forgot all about the special day in question he is already waiting in your kitchen, dimmed lit with candles and a romantic dinner setting whilst singing happy birthday to you.

“Happy birthday, my dear”

“Thank you… I can’t believe you made all of this!”

Seungmin :

He is a classic guy I feel, he’d also get you a piece of jewellery like chan, I feel more graduated towards earrings if you’ve got your ears pierced, something simple and pretty like pearl earrings. He would act so casually when he gift you them, like it’s nothing special but in reality he would be having a panic attack in the inside, wanting you do desperately to love his gift. After all he truly wanted this day to be perfect for you.

“They’re beautiful, seungmin! Thank you so much”

“Oh it’s nothing, I’m glad you liked them”

I.N

Now this guy would be panicking weeks ahead of your birthday, asking his members what the hell you give a girlfriend on their birthday! After everyone’s input he would eventually settle for a huge teddy bear, some of your favourite snacks along with a perfume, a scent he specifically picked out for you because he thought it would suit you. He would have forced one of his members to tag along to the mall and be his advisor for that day, both of their noses numb from all the smelling until they found the perfect one.

“Thank you so much, jeongin. I love it!”

“You love it? Really? Happy birthday!”

[deeoccasionallyspeaks]

i just know yuuji religiously checks up on you after shibuuya.

he’s the one to come home & break the news to you. everyone else figures you’d rather hear it from him, & he does too. he comes immediately to you and kento’s shared apartment, still in his old clothes but he had the decency to wipe the blood & grime off of his face. solemnly brings his fist to the door to knock twice, knowing he had no choice but to give you the horrible news.

& you kind of already knew before yuuji even got there. kento always kept you updated, shooting a quick text in between exorcising curses. answering your “how’s it going” texts with a thumbs up emoji at the least.

however when you got that “you made life worth living. i love you” text from him, you already knew that was his way of saying goodbye. he just didn’t want to actually say it.

but you were so strong and mature, one of kento’s favorite traits of you. so you knew yuuji delivering the news to you would be harder on him. after all, he’s the one that called you and kento “mom & dad”. he’s the one who came over every sunday for family dinner. he’s the one who helped kento paint the living room a different color to surprise you.

so when yuuji does bring his fist up to knock, you immediately swing the door open greeting him with a sad smile. a look in your eyes that showed yuuji all too well that you already knew.

& the boy immediately shivers as a deep breathe he didn’t even realize he was holding escapes his lungs, letting out such a defeated sound. he immediately looks down and shakes his head, unable to look at you- almost as if he failed you.

however he did everything but fail you, and you let him know by wrapping your arms around the boy, finding the back of his head to craddle it. although much younger, his tall frame leans over into your shoulder as he lets the tears & whines leave his body. you silently cry with him, both of you doing your best to comfort one another.

“he was so proud of you, you know?” you whisper, applying more pressure to the comforting circles you were rubbing on his back, “he still is”.

you both stand in silence for a few minutes longer, coming to terms with the horrible reality that kento nanami was no longer physically with you, but now permanently resides in your hearts.

“thank you for coming, yuuji. i wouldn’t want to hear the news from anyone but you”

& the months after that are dreadful. you soon realize your strong personality could only hold you for so long. it gets hard to eat. bathing feels like a chore. you switch from being insolent to sorrowful. & you try to keep it together, but yuuji notices.

you are who he calls ‘mom’, afterall.

so he still comes by even when you send him a passive aggressive text saying you want to be alone. he brings you food and makes you eat it in front of him even if you say you already ate (he can tell when you’re lying). & he listens as you curse at whatever gods for taking your husband away from you. he understands when you break down and tell him you don’t know how to live life without kento.

& he doesn’t try to sell you dreams by telling you it’ll get better. he doesn’t try to make you see the bright side. no, he lets you grieve because, yeah, it’s not fair. no, you don’t deserve that, neither did kento.

but he keeps coming around to let you know that you’re not alone. to make bearing this burden a little easier.

& some more months go by, and yuuji hears the first real genuine laugh from you since the incident when he’s explaining a scene from this comedy movie he recently watched. you’re both sitting at the kitchen table, books strewn across the wood as yuuji came over needing help on a ridiculous assignment gojo assigned. & you both think that maybe things will start to feel better soon.

especially with kento’s framed picture looking down at you both from the wall adjacent.

yeah, things will get better soon.

———————————————————————-

omg i dont even know why i wrote that like why am i crying

[vanishingcherry]

YN YLN and Charles Leclerc Take a Couples Quiz

pairing: charles leclerc x reader

author's note: this has been in my drafts for wayy to long, so ive decided to just finish it off and post it. im sorry lmao but i just couldn't watch this rot away in my wips any longer.

masterlist

๑ ⋆˚₊⋆────ʚ˚ɞ────⋆˚₊⋆ ๑

The video cut to you and Charles, sitting opposite each other in front of a yellow to red gradient, smiling at the camera.

"Hi! I'm YN", you say cheerfully.

"And I'm Charles"

"And we are here to take a couples quiz!"

You are handed a stack of questions from a person off screen, and turn towards Charles.

"Are you ready?"

"Is that the first question?" he retorts.

Your face drops, now showing slight annoyance but there is still a small smile you try to hide. "That's it. Minus 1 points."

"Oh c'mon! That is not fair."

You turn to argue but the video cuts to a different scene in which you ask the actual first question.

"What things do I have, of yours, that are my favourite?

He looks up in thought before chuckling and replying. "Theres a lot, you steal my stuff all the time."

You grin. "Yes, but what's my favourite?"

"My shirts? No wait! My bracelets?" He asks.

"Yeah!" you exclaim. Turning to the camera you add. "He gets so many bracelets from fans and they are all so pretty. We keep them in a bowl on our dresser so I like to take a few whenever I go out."

Looking back at Charles, you add. "You didn't know the answer, but you still got it right so I think you deserve half a point." The staff behind the camera gives you a thumbs up, noting it down for when they would edit the video.

"Ok! Next question- which song of yours is my favourite?"

He looks at you, his eyes widening with a confused expression on his face. He looks at the camera crew and then back at you.

"C'mon, I only have 2 it's not a very hard question."

"Then answer it." you reply, looking at him with a small smirk.

"Fine. Uh, AUS23."

"Wrong!" you exclaim, laughing at the way his jaw drops in surprise.

"Then what? I know its not Miami."

"Its the one you wrote for Baku." you slyly say, knowing fully well that he hadn't released it and you were possibly the only one other than him to have heard it.

You look down at the cards you had been given, reading off the next question. "What is the first thing I eat in the morning?"

You see his smirk growing in your peripheral vision and cut in before he answers. "If you dare make a joke, I will murder you."

He laughs at that, chuckling as he looks up to think. "Um. Breakfast? It's different things every morning, but if I wake up before her then I make cereal."

Noticing the evident confusion on the faces of the cameramen, you elaborate. "It's the only thing he's allowed to make without me present. The last time I let him cook alone, he burned the pancakes and half our kitchen."

Turning red at the story, he interrupts. "Okayy, next question amore."

"Which side of the bed do I sleep on?"

"Left."

"If I could get a tattoo of something, what would it be?"

"A bouquet of flowers. The flowers would be your favourite and my favourite together."

You are shocked at his response. "How did you remember that? I told you that ages ago!"

He smiles slyly to the camera. "That is why I am the best boyfriend, there is no need for these silly questions I am already the best. She told me so in be-"

"Right. Next question." You cut him off, eyes widening as you figure out where he was going with the statement. "This is the last one. If I could live anywhere in the world, where would it be?"

"Oh this is easy. Italy. You are always talking about how much you love it. But you also love Monaco and France so depending on how you feel, one of those three."

"Well.", you look at the camera, "I think that answer deserves 2 points." Handing your questions off to the side, you turn to Charles who has started reading the first of his questions.

"If I had a ticket to anywhere in the world, where would I go?" he reads. "This is similar to yours", he mutters.

"Home", you say confidently. "He's a mama's boy, tries to go back home as much as possible."

He blushes slightly before nodding to the camera. "Yup, 1 point."

"What was I wearing on our first date?"

You reply quick as lightening. "A shirt and pants. Very gentlemanly, I remember thinking, probably the best first impression I've had of a guy."

His eyebrows raise at the confession, cockily tilting his head in the direction of the camera. "You heard her! Next, what is something I hate?"

"A lot of things, Char."

"Is that your final answer, cherie?"

"Um." you pause. "Oh I know! When manipulate stuff that you say. It makes me really mad too. It gets really tiresome when they take stuff that Charles has said that turn into into a different story altogether."

"Thats true, I do hate that." He smiles at you, reaching over to squeeze your hand once to say thank you.

"How many kids do I want?"

"3, because you have 2 siblings. But, you said you want as many as I am comfortable with!"

"Of course, amour. You're the one whose going to be carrying them, your choice is more important here. What is something I get annoyed about?"

"Oh, when Seb and Carlos beat you at those Ferrari games you play."

His jaw drops in faux offence, shaking his head as he reads out the last question on his cue card.

"What is one my hidden talents?"

You look straight at the camera, not dissimilar to The Office. A smirk grows on your face and the lens zooms in. In the background Charles can be heard complaining.

"Oh I see! You can make these jokes, but I cant?"

The video cuts to the wider angle once again, you and Charles wave at the camera.

"Thanks for watching our couples quiz! I think it's clear that I've won."

Charles rolls his eyes, eyes shining with admiration and love for you. "Bye everybody."

Comments:

charleslover: OH MY GOD!! THEY ARE SO IN LOVE IT KILLS ME

ynandcharles: their facial expressions always kill me

username89: where do i get a charles leclerc bcs i will willingly offer all the money i have

doratheexplorer16: their love for each other hurts

[ghostbustting]

HAII I LOVE YOUR WRITING SMM 😋😋 I WAS WONDERING IF YOU COULD WRITE A DAVE MUSTAINE SMUT?? I IMAGINE THE PLOT BEING READER AND DAVE CREATE A SEX TAPEE :3 IF NOT THAT ONE YOU CAN DO FAMOUS SINGER!READER AND DAVE MUSTAINE SECRETLY DATINGG :3 🫶🏻 alright thanks for listening to my Ted talk

loved both ideas so much, so i decided to combine them (turned out way longer than I intended to write 😭)

╰┈➤“𝑪𝑨𝑴𝑬𝑹𝑨 𝑹𝑶𝑳𝑳„ ๋࣭

Dave Mustaine x Singer!Reader

Contains Smut.

Camera flashes my way as I walk out of the building, a forced smile painted on my face, trying to push myself past the people asking questions and their annoying cameras. There were people calling out my name, trying to get my attention here and there. They push and push through the other people, their mind careless as they all continue to swarm over me.

Sunglasses were a must in these conditions, like a shield to my eyes from those horrible flashes of lights that can blind my eyesight. They were also convenient in hiding the look of annoyance I hold behind my eyes.

I could barely see the path I am walking on, the vision of my destination in front of me was blocked by them as well. Not to mention how much their presence here are decelerating my walk, almost like a living barcade, preventing me to leave.

My own name fills my ear. At this point, at least they didn't hear how many irritated sighs I let out.

A lady who seemingly work at a news station, or just coincidentally own a microphone and dresses professionally, shoves a microphone my way as she ask me the question of, "Are you releasing anything new soon?"

The sudden appearance of the microphone caused me to flinch the slightest bit. Yet I force myself to smile, leaning down to the microphone to answer, "Uh.. yes, a new album's coming on July—"

I was cut off when footsteps storms their way into the swarm of people. Looking up, I found the culprits to be these four guys; long hair, tall, chicks in their arms, and famous enough to pull some of the people's attention away from me. More specifically, they are Megadeth.

When one of their shoulder collided with mine– obviously intended, I was pushed away a little, giving them more space to do their not necessarily dramatic walk. It wasn't really hard for me to find out that the one that bumped their shoulder into mine was none other than their lead singer, Dave Mustaine.

What people saw when he bumped into me was the interview he had not long ago. That redheaded man was saying how music like mine is unnecessarily famous, even mocking the way I was singing and all. That interview was taken when I had beat him in a nomination at an award show. I was grinning all night that time.

But what I saw when he bumped into me was different. I was focused on the paper he slipped right into my hand the moment our shoulders meet, an act so small and sneaky yet an act so big if any of the people around caught onto it and the fact that he wrote his hotel room number in it.

Once they walk away, I smile to myself and chuckle, looking back at the lady that was asking a question. "Well, there goes Megadeth and their dramatic entrance." I laugh softly.

By the time I answer two more questions, I manage to skedaddle away and into a taxi, having most of the people to be pulled away by the charming mighty Megadeth. But I guess Dave just knew how much I didn't like interacting with paparazzi.

There's in fact a lot of things that Dave knew about me actually.

My favorite color.. my favorite animal.. my favorite artists.. my hobbies.. the perfume I wear.. the way I laugh.. the shampoo I use on my hair.. the things I hate.. the taste of my lips..

Too many things, perhaps.

Yet all those things had to be kept behind doors, whenever we have the time to be alone. Just the two of us. Not a single bandmate of his. Not a single paparazzi. No one else. Just us and our little secret.

By the time the taxi stops at my destination, I step out of the yellow coloured car and look up to see the tall building in front of me, windows of hotel rooms seen up there, one of those windows belonging to Dave Mustaine's hotel room.

"You came."

The man stood there in front of me, having previously opened up the door of his hotel room to my knocks. He was wearing a white button up shirt, the only buttons on being the three last ones, the rest on the top unbuttoned and giving me a peek of his chest. His belt was on, yet unbuckled, just resting loosely around his waist.

Looking up, I'm met by a precious grin on his face as he look down on me, leaning his side against the doorframe.

"You begged me to."

I return his grin the same way he was wearing it, almost as if we were looking into a mirror— just that our reflection's a different person's body. A beautiful chuckle of his fill my ears as he stood straight again.

His hand rose up, reaching out in the air between us, a silent ask for my own hand to be placed on top of his spread out palm.

Willingly, I place my hand on top of his and let him wrap his fingers around my hand, his touch gentle yet with a sense of possessiveness behind it as he slowly take me inside of his hotel room. That hand of his trails up my arm until he wrap his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to his body as we walk further in.

My body against his, I can smell the fragrance on him with our proximity as we walk.

"Is that.."

"-Your perfume? Yeah. Obsessed with it."

I turn my head to look up at him, finding him still staring at me with such focus, the grin on his lips becoming softer now. The way he spoke his words so simply yet so genuinely are always able to shoot butterflies right into my stomach. But with that look in his eyes as well is just way too much for me to handle.

As we approach the bed, I return the smile on his face. He slowly bring me with him as he lay down on the bed, kicking his shoes off, my own heels following after his shoes.

We lay down on the bed, his head resting on the pillow while mine was on his chest, the beat of his heart pressed against my ear, my arm over his stomach as his lips place kisses on my head, arms wrapped around me.

For a moment it stays like that, just silent moment with him showering me in kisses, my mind focused on how slightly fast his heart was beating, my fingers fiddling with his hair I've grown to be oddly obsessed with.

Dave's voice was soft as he spoke up to me, "How was your day?" He asked me, one of his hand coming up to run his fingers through my hair, moving some strands out of my face as he leans down to kiss my cheek.

"Same as everyday." I sigh, twirling a strand of his hair using my finger. His lips continue to place kisses all over my face, an act I've loved so dearly, yet also an act that we couldn't put on display out of the closed door.

He chuckled softly and focused on kissing my jaw, my breath becoming heavier just the slightest bit from the way his lips rubbed up and down my jaw. "Fame, right? Fun but tiring." He mumble against my skin.

I hummed at his words, a silent agreement, my fingers brushing his hair as he continue to kiss me all over.

That's when he moved to my neck and his kisses becomes way more sloppier, my skin feeling partially wet from his messy kisses. "Dave.. what are you doing?" I giggle softly, feeling his teeth grazing my skin as he bite down a small hidden mark right below my ear.

"Missed you... all day long.." He mumbled. His hands trails down to hold my waist, his grip firm as he caress my body through my dress, feeling me all over. Yet I knew right through his touch that feeling my body with this dress as a barrier from my skin was not the same to his liking.

"Hey, listen.." Dave pulled back, a wider grin on his face now. A grin of mischief. A grin of trouble.

Preparing myself for whatever his idea was, I took a deep breath and smile softly at him as his mouth opens yet again, he spoke slowly. "I have an idea. Something you can take your mind off to."

My eyebrow raised, a small curiosity rises in me as his words managed to take hold of my interest. How bad could this be anyways? Besides, I don't mind a little distraction from all the fuss I had today.

A small chuckle manage to escape my lips as I tilt my head, rolling my eyes in amusement. "I'm in." The moment I said those two simple words, a glimmer was seen inside those beautiful eyes of his, a glimmer of excitement, knowing I was willing to do what he have to offer.

Wasting the night just feels right with him. No matter if we do something stupid, or absolutely useless shit, he just knew how to make me feel like the most important and seen person in the whole universe. Like I was here, a precious possession of his.

Dave was just.. the biggest jerk, idiot, and sweetheart all at the same time.

And that's why minutes later after our conversation, I was on the bed still. Yet this time, the elegant dress that once covered up all the inappropriate areas of my body now tosses aside, like it has some other nights before this one. His own shirt and pants accompanying my dress on the floor.

I watch patiently from the bed to where he was standing, his focus for a while solely on the camera he was handling, pulling up a chair and placing the camera there in order to keep it steady, just close by the bed, the lens catching our bodies just perfectly on the bed.

"I swear to God.." I sigh and stare at Dave, pointing my finger at him. "If this gets out and my reputation's over, you're dead, Mustaine."

He laughed out loud, no doubt finding my fear of our little movie getting leaked amusing, as if that's what he was aiming for at the first place. "Yea yea, just shut up and be sexy for the camera, won't you? I need this to jerk off to." He winked. I'd be lying if he wasn't being idioticly smart with his words despite rolling my eyes in annoyance.

With a press of the record button, the camera starts catching each and every one of our moves, the thought and realization hitting me like a ton of bricks and made my heart start beating faster.

I can't help but also rethink the thought of getting this tape leaked, the thought of the public actually knowing how this man takes care of me and make me feel... the thought of the girls wanting him seeing me being the woman he worship.. It makes me press my thighs together, unable to deny the soaking spot right in the middle of my panties.

I was soon snapped out of my thoughts when Dave gets back on the bed, hovering over me, his eyes gazes upon my almost completely bare body with such lust and excitement, the tension of his gaze struck right through me and into my soul.

My breath becomes heavier the moment his hand reached up and cupped my right cheek, his thumb moving to gently stroke my skin in a circular motion, a motion I wish he was doing to my aching clit down there.

He leaned down, his lips immediately finding mine and connecting with such ease, our eyes fluttering close as I wrap my arms around his neck and pulled him into me even more, wanting to be one with him, to merge souls with him, to be connected forevermore until the end of the multiverses.

With our lips still focusing on each other's, his hands trails to my back, his fingers reaching out to unclasp my bra, something he manage to do with one hand from how much time he had done it by now. My bra slips off me and was toss aside with such ease.

Dave then pulls back from the kiss, I whine at the sudden loss of his lips. "Dave.." I breathed out, my breath hitching when he took no time to waste, his lips now attatched onto one of my erect nipple, meanwhile his hands found themselves a new and last piece of fabric to discard from my body.

He gripped the fabric of my panties, his mouth sucking the skin of my breast as his fingers pulled on the laced piece of clothing, the stitches of the fabric starting to pull apart, making me flinch the moment he ripped the panties into pieces, groaning against my breast.

Small desperate moans leaves my lips like prayers, just the sensation of his lips around my nipple was enough to make me lose control of myself. My eyes glances to the side, finding that same camera, feeling the lens of it catching every one of his movement and every single noises that I let out.

Dave's hand meets my jaw, turning my head towards him as he takes ahold of my attention yet again, "Keep those pretty eyes on me." He demanded, his intense gaze always able to make my eyes lock right with his, meanwhile his body slowly lowers down the bed, all the way till his head was hovering above my thighs which were being spread apart by his hands.

My thighs gave in to his touch, separating just as far enough for him to be able to have a full gaze of the dripping cunt I have on display for him, his eyes forgetting how to blink while his mouth felt a needy thirst. Next thing I knew, his head was buried between my thighs, fingers gripping onto them, while his mouth was desperately eating me out, his tongue working like a fucking magic.

"Ah... fuck... Dave—" I whimpered, my legs were shaking, I had to control them to not kick his back.

But the amount pleasure that even his fingers could give me is always such a breathtaking thing, almost as if every inch of his body were past lovers of my own, knowing damn well just how to please me as if he has been doing it for over centuries.

His lips were making out with my pussy, his nose nudging the sensitive clit, making me lose my mind a hundred times more than I originally was by the thought of recording the way he would make me feel every little chances we got ever since we started this little secret of ours.

His name seems to find it's way our of my lips again and again like a non stop prayer for him. My hand slowly reaching down to run my fingers through his hair, clutching on those gorgeous locks and pushing his face further more against me.

Every now and then, his groans would vibrate up my body, giving me goosebumps.

My back arched the moment his fingers joined in on this mischief of his. His tongue continued to work magic on my dripping hole while his thumb was rubbing my clit harshly, knowing just how much it can make me crumble.

"D-dave.."

He pulled back once he heard my voice, his thumb still circling over my clit. "Yea?" His voice was cracked and oddly raspy, out of breath from his little eating out session.

"Now.. please?"

A small sly grin was seen on his lips, his eyelashes fluttering my way, looking as pretty as ever that I just want to kiss him all over.

"Whatever the angel wants." Dave spoke as he sits up between my legs and start taking off his boxers.

The usage of that nickname never failed to bring butterflies into my stomach. Not when he literally admitted it himself that he called me "angel" because he thought I sounded like one. Him. David Scott Mustaine. The guy who just days ago compared my voice to a muppet giving birth.

I watch as his boxers was thrown aside, revealing the hard cock that has been hiding behind those fabric all these times. We've done this million times, and I'm never not enchanted by his length.

"Ready?" Dave ask as he took his cock in one hand and pumped it while his other hand held my hip.

"Please."

He looked up at that word, watching as it leave my lips and watching the look in my eyes. Showing how truly desperate I am for him. Each and every night. When we're together. Or when we're not.

Locked in his gaze, I gasp when he suddenly pushed into my entrance, filling me up at once with his lenght. Just the way he knew I loved it.

"Fuck.." I breathed out, reaching out to hold onto his back while he hold onto my hips.

Almost immediately, he started thrusting. Slow and nice at first. His cock moving back and gently pushing back in.

I watch the way his hips move, back.. and front... back.. and front, each time feeling his cock move as well in me.

Dave shook his head, leaning down to burry his face in the crook of my neck, his hands running up and down my torso, "God.. how I want to show the world how weak of a metal rockstar you got me.." He chuckled breathlessly, his lips grazing the skin of my neck.

That was when he start to move faster, getting more and more worked up as time passes on, his cock throbbing in my tight walls, needing it’s release.

The volume of my dirty noises were only increased from the way his hips pull all the way back and slam right back in, repeating his movements fast and hard like his life depends on it. In this moment, it probably was.

Pathetic moans and whimpers of his name leave my lips non stop, his own whines and groans muffled into my neck whenever I let out my voice. The way he moves in me was always something so overwhelmingly nice and pleasing, which able to distract me from the camera sitting nearby, still recording our deeds.

Dave sit straight up again, taking my hips back in his firm grasp. From that second and that look in his eyes, I knew he was taking this way more seriously now, just getting the much more dirtier side out. The love, the lust, the care, the need. It’s all seen in his beautiful hazel eyes. My walls clenched just by feeling his eyes caress my body with that intense gaze.

Almost immediately, he hold my hips still and fuck me with the speed of lightning, fucking me like there’s no tomorrow.

My eyes widens and a cry was pulled out of the back of my throat, a cry for him. “Oh fuck! Dave, yes!” My voice only encouraged him even more, groaning as he slam in and out of me, feeling my walls hugging his length tightly, a feeling I knew he loved so dearly.

”Gonna cum for me, angel? Please do..” He whispered out, still breathless till now, “I need you so much..” He was so sweet with his words. Always was. I can’t help but nod and try to utter out a yes.

The moment the tip of his cock nudged that one special spot in me perfectly well, I came undone with his length still stuffed deep in me, making him groan as he feel my release all over his cock. “Mm fuck..” I whimpered, panting.

Following close behind with his own release, Dave thrusted into me one last time before shooting his cum straight into me, painting my walls white while he slowly pull out of me, making both of us moan at the sensation of our cum dripping out of my hole.

Dave quickly grabbed the camera, aiming it to the cum that’s still dripping out of me and onto the pool of cum on the bed sheets, then up to my fucked up face. my chest heaving up and down as I continue to pant for breath.

”Words for the camera?”

My eyes look up at the lens and I tiredly grin before pulling out my middle finger at it, causing Dave to chuckle as he cut the recording, staring at the camera for awhile before he practically threw the camera aside and lay down on the bed, holding my body close to his own as our warmth combined into one.

"Naughty girl."

[kingkat12]

unbearable (roman godfrey x reader)

WARNINGS: 18+, handjob, alcohol, graphic imagery, angst, mention of drugs, physical violence (almost), asshole teenage boys

summary: Roman had heard your no, respected your wishes, but now you were wondering how big of a blow it truly was for him to get his sexual advances rejected-- why was he blowing this so out of proportion? was something else maybe going on in that brain of his?

word count: 11,054 (am i on the brink of insanity maybe)

← previous chapter | next chapter →

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･seven minutes in heaven masterlist

a/n: sorry for the wait!! school is driving me nuts... BUT SO IS ROMAN!!! GRRR, enjoy!!!<333

Vladimir Nabokov, the author of Lolita, once wrote to his wife; "I love you, I'm waiting for you unbearably,"

... Waiting for Roman was unbearable, too.

Shatteringly unbearable. Images of wanting to ball up into a contortion of nothingness haunted me, and the need to become a single entity of anger and despair clawed wounds into my skin. I kept imagining I would grow extra arms to help my body become a circle, an ouroboros, but not stopping at the tail-- a snake eating itself to death.

If I could eat myself, I would. Not like an apple, not with gentle nips-- no, I would sink my teeth into my flesh and tear, rip, pull with all my might. Pull, pull, until I was nothing but a gushing wound. 

This is what Roman was driving me to. 

Is this a bearable state to be in? Constantly?

If I were to ask myself that question once more, I would answer that I no longer thought anything at all. I refused to. My brain stopped working properly the first time I saw him, anyway. Therefore none of my actions actually mattered. They had no consequence. No consequence at all, just like Roman probably saw his actions.

I should've listened to him the night we got together; "I shut down," he'd said. "I retaliate when I'm angry." Maybe I needed to be diagnozed with selective hearing? It was starting to seem as though I shut my ears whenever he spoke, only listening to the muffled sound of his voice as my pupils formed into pulsing hearts. 

Still, it seemed I wasn't the only one with selective hearing. If I closed my eyes, I could live through the moment I tried to tell Roman I wasn't up for having sex with him last night. It was like he didn't hear me, didn't register it; but in hindsight, it didn't feel like it was with ill intent. 

... Maybe this hearing thing actually needed to be addressed. Maybe we both needed a trip to the doctor's office to tell them we couldn't hear or think properly.

While we're there, I think I'd also like to have him referred to a therapist of sorts. Maybe he could learn how to communicate properly and not run off into the night when he doesn't get laid?

Oh, well-- a girl is allowed to dream. Get a little lost in her head. Sometimes, that's necessary. Especially in moments like these;

I spotted Roman beneath the bleachers with some of his friends, leaning against the metal structure. His hair was styled in the usual heartbreaker style, and the two upper unclasped buttons of his shirt allowed me to glance at the small area of exposed skin-- I spotted the vial of my blood around his neck, and the longer I stood here, I remembered how soft he was to the touch; especially when he was shirtless and on top of me. I hated how I was thinking about him like a dumb cat in heat. Still, I couldn't take my eyes off him; Roman seemed so carefree, laughing with his friends, unaware of how ridiculously handsome he looked. 

He should be jailed for walking around looking like that. For life, preferably. 

My eyes focused on the way he lazily balanced his cigarette between his fingers, taking slow, careful drags as he listened to his friend talk in the heat of the weather. Now, Roman was as different from yesterday as humanly possible-- I could still see the quiet, retreated version of him he had become last night after the rejection. The one that had practically thrown a fit about not getting laid, which quickly spiraled into what I could only categorize as a mental crisis. Had he been so shocked by getting a no that he had shot himself into existential dread? 

And why was his first conclusion that I didn't want him at all?

For a girl who just said she refused to think, I sure did a lot of it. I decided that enough was enough-- I needed to talk to him. Roman was my boyfriend after all, I should be able to do so.

Still, I couldn't remember the last time I felt this small as I made my way towards him, anxiously clearing my throat before I tapped Roman's shoulder. I hadn't managed to put much strength into the tap, and I was almost worried he wouldn't notice me--

One of his friends chimed in with a nasty grin, motioning for Roman to turn around; "Pretty girl, six o'clock," 

Roman turned his head to me, and it was clear that he hadn't expected to see me. His smile fell a little as he pulled his cigarette away from his lips, making sure to exhale upwards and away from my face. I spotted my hair ties around his wrist-- knowing he still wore them gave me a sense of ease. "Hey, sweets," Roman teased, casual as ever. "The catwalk ain't here, you gotta go down to the city center for that."

I rolled my eyes, watching the smug smirk form on his face as the rest of his friends snickered. Why was he acting so... normal? "Rome, we need to talk,"

"Well, fuck," he mumbled, turning to his friends with a playful shimmer in his green eyes. "It seems I'm in trouble, guys." It was as though he was egging them on as they all collectively ooh-ed, his loyal spectators, his royal servants. 

I didn't like this side of Roman. Jock-Roman. There were many sides of him I didn't like, actually. Or was it maybe that I didn't like myself for liking him at all? This was becoming more of a mind-fuck than expected. And if we were to play mind games, I knew where to strike; "Roman, either you fucking talk to me like a grown man, or I sit down in Daniel's lap during lunch today. Your choice," 

His head turned towards me with nearly inhuman speed, no trace of any humour on his face anymore. The sudden change was chilling-- I would've shivered, had I not expected it. The oohs only got louder from the group of boys, and I watched Roman's eye twitch as he threw his cigarette down to the floor, stomping it. Still, I didn't break eye contact; I had read somewhere that dogs battled for dominance this way. Since when were Roman and I no better than dogs? 

Roman turned to his pack; "Scram," he said, nodding for them to leave. 

They were gone within seconds. 

He turned to me, a tired look about him. "Talk, then,"

"No," I placed myself before him, watching his green eyes follow me. "That's not how a conversation works. One person says something, and the other one responds. Would you like to try that out, maybe practice a little? It seems you didn't do enough of that in elementary school."

Roman scoffed, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands into his front pockets. "How sweet of you,"

"What can I say? I'm patient like that,"

"You'd be good with kids,"

"How great that you're acting like a child, then," I sighed, realizing that I needed a different strategy if I wanted to get anything out of this conversation. For now, Roman remained silent, probably holding back a long string of curses. I took another step forward, and I was immediately embraced by the scent of his cologne. Fuck, how I loved the expensive smell of Roman. Still, I knew I had to get myself together; I let my eyes soften as I looked up at him. "You haven't answered any of my calls or messages... I don't get what's going on in your head. I'm simply trying to understand, but you're just running away. Again."

Roman's eyelids hung heavy over his eyes, lashes fluttering lazily as he met my gaze. He let out a loud sigh; "Maybe I just need space? Did you ever weigh that option?" 

"... Do you want space?" This was so damn confusing. "You wanted to be as close as humanly possible last night, though?"

Roman scoffed again-- was it a laugh? He didn't say anything as he looked away, possibly to think. Like this, I spotted the vial again; I let out a relieved breath. To be honest, a part of me was worried he'd take it off. 

Finally, he spoke; "I need some time. Time to think,"

"Think about what?" This was making my heart speed up. "Roman, you're worrying me."

He shrugged, still not meeting my gaze. "Just... time. Is that so damn hard to give?" 

God, how I hated his tone. Hated the way he spoke to me right now, hated it all. It pushed me to say my deepest fear out loud; "If you're seriously breaking up with me because I didn't want to sleep with you with my parents on the other side of the wall, I sure hope you think very, very carefully,"

"What?" Roman seemed to snap out of it, finally looking at me. His brows were drawn together, confused; "I'm not breaking up with you. Aren't you breaking up with me?"

"What?" 

"... What?" 

We both looked at each other with bewilderment. It seemed we had both come to very, very different conclusions. 

"Roman, I'm not breaking up with you?" 

"... Why not?" 

"What?!" It felt like my brain was actively melting-- I groaned, rubbing my temples. "What on earth do you mean, why not?"

"I don't know!" Roman's brain seemed to be malfunctioning as well. He kicked off the metal of the bleachers, his mouth opening and closing as he frantically tried to find the right words. His hands were pulled out of his pockets, flailing; "Fuck, I'm confused! I'm gonna-- gonna hyperventilate, so I need to go. Need to-- Yeah, I'm leaving."

I couldn't believe how fast he took off. I hadn't seen anything like that before. Roman wasn't even running, he was simply walking with very, very long steps, and that was enough to be out of reach for me within seconds. 

I wanted to scream up at the sky-- what even was that conversation just now? The urge to drive my head into the bleachers became overwhelming, unbearable, but I opted to simply kick the structure instead. 

That was a miscalculation on my part. I hissed as the blow to my foot sent jolts of pain up my spine, and I winced as I suppressed the need to jump around on my other foot and look like a clown in the process. I cursed, leaning against the cold metal as I tried to steady my breathing.

This day was not going very well so far.

And it certainly didn't get any better when I heard the shuffling of small footsteps along the grass nearby. 

I should've known-- Letha stopped a few steps away from me, her blonde hair moving away from her face with the passing breeze. I blinked through the pain multiple times to make sure it really was her, that she actually had the nerve to walk up to me again. Sadly, I didn't have Roman to hide behind this time. But she looked so sweet with her hands clasped behind her, along with the unsure little tilt back and forth on her feet; "That didn't look very pleasant," Letha mumbled.

I didn't want to entertain this, yet I did. "What, the kick?"

"Well, that too," Letha's trying smile nearly broke my heart. I hated that we didn't know how to talk to each other anymore. "I meant the fight. Is he acting out?"

"... He's not a child, he's not acting out,"

"Didn't you just call him a child?"

"... He's my boyfriend, we're allowed to fight!" I gnarled. "And who the fuck are you to talk to me about this? How much of that conversation did you hear?"

Letha looked like I had just kicked her. "I always do my homework on the bleachers. You guys chose to fight right beneath me,"

Fuck. "You should've moved, then!--"

"It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces," Letha's green eyes bore into mine, shimmering with traces of dimmed hope. "I have no idea what you're fighting about, but I've known Roman my whole life. That's how he operates, and... that's all I wanted to say. Hope I can be of some help."

An awkward silence fell over us like a damp blanket-- this was uncomfortable. Nonetheless, I stilled. A part of me recognized that Letha would've been the first to know of my problems with Roman, had we not had a falling out. Had she not iced me out, made me an outcast, turned all my friends against me, and practically shoved me down into the dirt. I would've confided in her, asked her for guidance, support-- I grieved our bond all over again. I gave in, shrugging; "Okay. Thanks,"

That seemed to take a weight off Letha's shoulders. As we stood in silence, simply gazing at one another, until her eyes slowly landed on my necklace. Roman's blood. It dawned on me that it was too late to tuck it beneath my shirt, and I awaited some sort of grief from her about it if she recognized what it was--

"Oh," she breathed. "It makes a little more sense, now."

"What does?"

"If he wears your blood around his neck as well, then it all makes perfect sense,"

"What does, Letha?"

The look she gave me sent a cold set of shivers down my spine. It was ominous, like I had been marked by death. Letha shrugged; "Of course he's... on edge, then,"

The chase was getting frustrating. "Care to go on, or are you just going to keep saying cryptic shit?"

"I can't!-- It's hard to explain!" Letha's shoulders slumped in defeat as her inner turmoil streaked her face. "Just imagine you're really, really broke, but you have a hundred dollar bill hanging around your neck... and under no circumstances can you use it." Her eyes nearly drilled holes into mine. "Would it not drive you crazy?"

Why did it sound like she was insinuating that Roman was a?--

No. 

No.

I didn't want to hear this. I didn't bother to give Letha a proper answer before I kicked off the metal of the bleachers, glaring at her as I passed her. "Stay away," I hissed, harshly nudging her shoulder. "Fuck off back to Barbieworld or wherever it is you came from."

As I marched back to the main building, I found it nearly impossible to steady my breathing. My heart was beating rapidly in my chest as I grasped the vial of blood around my neck, rubbing it between my fingers as my mind raced. 

It was only when I finally got to class and slumped down on the last free seat that I could think back to last night with a clearer vision than before.

The Avoidable Vampirism - The Upir had kept me up long enough to see the sunrise. I wanted to blame it on the author for writing such a captivating book. 

Still, the one thing I hated about literature such as this, was that it never actually said anything straight-forward. It always had to be a nonsense passage with lots of filler words and even more dancing around the actual message;

"Blood's effect on a upir is as much psychological as it is physical. Upirs tend to escalate small arguments in hopes of an eventual physical struggle, a battle that may wound, without properly understanding why. This may lead to a strong sense of insecurity which often settles in the upir's mind and festers, only drawing them forth to the dark road the curse wants them to venture."

That's what was written in the passage about upirs and blood. Nearly impossible to understand, and even further confusing, right? The worst must've been the passage that was written like a self-help book. Did the author seriously think upirs were real?

... Did I?

"And what happens when a upir is exposed to blood, you may ask? There are levels of control which range from person to person. Some may have gotten accustomed to the smell from having cut themselves in earlier years, and some may go into a spiral which is often misdiagnozed as mania in urban psychological trials. But some upirs are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged. The more the upir is around blood in a constant flow, the more the irritation festers, the anger boils, and the innate aggression settles."

And this is where I had to stop. I remember putting the book down to stare at the moon in the distance, wondering why on earth I had fallen into a loophole like this. I couldn't believe how many similarities I could draw between these supposed upirs and my boyfriend-- what did that say about Roman? He was possibly edgier than I had initially thought.

The more I thought about the similarities, the more insane I felt. 

... I needed to return this book to the library. 

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

"The both of you are like two rabid raccoons fighting over scraps in the New York City sewers," Peter grumbled, lazily sweeping the floor with his broom. 

I blinked, no longer rolling up cables as I turned to him. "... Do you have to use the craziest metaphors? And why is it always an animal?"

We had been assigned to clean up after an assembly later that same day, a task I had been able to evade up until now. So, when I spotted Peter also being forced to do this, we both huddled up in the corner of the auditorium backstage and started doing the most mundane tasks with the least effort to pass the time. However, it seemed he had been informed of my petty fight (or whatever the hell this was) with Roman, which was why he was back to making animal metaphors again. "Rabid raccoons..." I mumbled, reaching for a new cable to roll up. "Why the New York City sewers? Why raccoons?"

Peter shrugged; "Uh... Because raccoons are cool?"

Well, that's the thing with boys, isn't it-- there's pure static noise in their brains. I sighed, suppressing a chuckle as I continued my task. I glanced over my shoulder to make sure the teacher wasn't catching us slacking off before I turned back to Peter. "Did Roman maybe mention that he thought I was going to break up with him over this?"

"Yeah," Peter also looked over at the teacher just to double check. "I told him it was nonsense, but he's spiraling. He's also gotten obsessed with the idea of joining a raw meat eating contest."

It was impossible not to roll my eyes. Boys. "Seriously, what is up with him these days? Please, bro-code aside, what the fuck is happening?"

I was sure the stupid upir book was the reason my heart jumped when Peter's gaze went straight to my necklace. It almost felt like he was wordlessly trying to hint something-- no, I needed to get this out of my head. 

Still, it chimed in my mind like an old clock;

There are even some upirs that are so assimilated, they can do experiments with blood or carry vials of it with them wherever they go— which is an inclination that should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Should not be encouraged.

Peter's voice snapped me out of it-- "I think he's just going through withdrawal,"

"Withdrawal?" I echoed, turning my full attention towards him. That didn't sound good. "What do you mean, withdrawal? From what? He hasn't stopped smoking, if that's what you're talking about."

It seemed to dawn on Peter that he had said something he shouldn't have. His brown eyes widened and he cleared his throat, no longer sweeping the floor as he stopped in his tracks. "You don't know?"

"... You're killing me here,"

Peter sucked in a sharp breath, nodding to himself in defeat. "I would make you promise not to tell him I told you, but I bet you'll want to talk to him about this, so I won't even bother," His grip around the broom tightened; "So... Roman and I used to do coke together. A lot." When he didn't get a reaction, Peter grew visibly nervous. "It used to be the usual thing at parties. Roman always had a stash, and I'd join in from time to time... And he hasn't had a hit for a while, probably since you two got together, so all of this is probably just a part of the withdrawal."

Oh. I had forgotten about this. I blinked, tilting my head to the side as I gazed up at Peter with furrowed brows. Was that supposed to be a big reveal of sorts? Did he seriously think I didn't know that they used to do drugs? That I hadn't seen the both of them leaning over tables, snorting lines as I passed the room to check whether Roman was in there with a girl or not? This confirmed that they didn't notice me that one time I walked in on them in a bathroom while Roman was making the lines neat with his credit card. "Ah, so that's what that was?"

Peter's eyes widened; "... What?"

"The stuff you two were always snorting," Shrugging, I watched the look on his face distort into one of shock. It hit me that he hadn't known the true depths of how obsessed I used to be with Roman, and that I needed to get myself together before I revealed anything further damning; "Peter, I have a little something called vision. And a brain, for that matter. You guys aren't slick."

"We... aren't?"

It was impossible not to laugh, and I reached forward to nudge his shoulder. "Not in the least," To be honest, I was relieved to hear that Roman was coming off drugs and that my ridiculous upir-suspicions had been untrue. Maybe I could finally put all of that behind me and return the stupid book?

... Please. I was afraid I was going crazy.

He scoffed, moving away to continue sweeping the floors with a grumpy look on his face; "Anyway. That's the only explanation I have for you concerning what's up with him, but it's only an assumption. Maybe you should take a step back and let him come to you when he's done freaking out?" Peter glanced at me, almost as though he was plotting something. "Actually... I think I have the perfect thing to take your mind off this."

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

I regretted it the second I said yes, and I regretted it even more right now.

I had never been the biggest fan of parties, mostly because I was used to constantly getting smacked in the face with the truth that Roman was a bit of a whore (an understatement). So as I stood on the front porch with Peter later that night, surrounded by his friends as I listened to them talk about football (I wasn't paying attention, so I wasn't actually sure of the subject), I couldn't help but feel that same dread as before. I knew that Roman was my boyfriend now, that he wasn't upstairs with some random girl at this party, but the smell of alcohol yanked me right back to the memories. Actually, he wasn't even here at all.

Clutching the empty can of my finished drink, I gently yanked at the hem of Peter's sweater to catch his attention. "This isn't helping," I mumbled, meeting his big, brown eyes. "I feel bad being at this party without Roman... If he finds out, he's going to think I'm here to cheat on him or something. He's insane like that."

Peter sighed, rolling his eyes as he pulled me aside from the group. "Look, you need to relax, okay? I have it all under control,"

"You... what?"

His mouth pulled into a straight line, realizing he had said too much. Again. "Remember what I said about Roman not being here?"

Oh no. Peter had watched too many rom-coms. "For fuck's sake," I breathed, feeling my heart speed up. "Please don't say you told the both of us to come here?"

As annoying as the situation already was, Peter only made it worse by grinning in my face. He shrugged, brushing the severity off; "Last time I saw him, he was playing beer-pong,"

I was two seconds away from wrapping my fingers around Peter's neck and strangling him to death. "So Roman is running around this party drunk, and maybe also high on coke again while he's ignoring me?" Now, I was even closer to ripping my hair out of my follicles; "Oh, what an amazing idea this was, Peter! What a genius you are, this is just fantastic!"

Peter huffed, placing a condescending hand on my shoulder, squeezing it. "He's not high, okay? Just go find him, preferably before he falls over in the pool. I've let him marinade for long enough."

I grimaced-- "Marinade?" I needed to learn to stop trying to decrypt whatever Peter was saying. It never made sense, anyway. "First of all, fuck you. And second..." I took a deep breath, realizing what I was about to do; "... Wish me luck."

My head started pounding to the same rhythm as the song blasting through the speakers when I made my way inside and waded through the crowd. I hated that I was in this situation in the first place, hated that I hadn't spoken to my boyfriend in about twenty-four hours, but most of all...

I hated Roman Godfrey.

I hated the way he made me feel, hated how crazy I had become in my pursuit of him, hated, hated, hated him. However, amid my rage storm, I got a whiff of the scent of cinnamon cigarettes-- that brought me out of the inferno. I could recognize that, mixed with Roman's cologne, anywhere. I instinctively turned, realizing I had passed by the door to the kitchen, and I could be sure my eyes nor sense of smell were deceiving me as I now stood frozen, staring up at my boyfriend's broad shoulders. 

Roman's back was turned to me, but I could see that he was playing another round of beer-pong with a couple of friends scattered around the table. He hadn't noticed me, and I made sure he wouldn't. Still, the one person that caught my eye, was the girl by the counter next to where Roman was standing. I hid my body around the corner, peeking in past the door to catch another glimpse of the girl--

Fuck. It was Jessica. The girl Roman had flirted with to make me jealous the same day I told Letha I had feelings for him. Everything about her made me sick; the way she was dangling her long legs off the counter, staring up at him with literal hearts in her eyes, and how she twirled her blonde hair around her pinky as she tried to catch his attention with multiple calls of his name.

Roman seemed calm, unbothered, until he finally acknowledged her with an annoyed hum. It was only when he turned to face her, having just finished his turn in the game, that I saw that he was now pulling a cigarette out of his signature red box. I let out a shaky sigh of relief as I spotted my hair ties still hanging around his wrist, but I didn't get much time with my comfort before Jessica spoke up. 

Her voice was so painfully nasal; "So are you really seeing her?"

Roman's brows drew together as he balanced a cigarette between his slender fingers. God, how I missed his hands on me. "Who?"

Jessica said my name, followed by a pout. "If it's true, then that's really fucking unexpected. I have English lit with her, and she doesn't seem like your type,"

Had I not been desperate to hear Roman's answer, I would've grabbed the nearby lamp and bashed her head in-- alcohol didn't seem to have the best effect on my thoughts tonight. Still, Roman didn't react much, now patting down his pockets for his lighter. "Yeah, I'm seeing her. She's my girl,"

She's my girl. It echoed in my head over and over. My girl.

However, Jessica didn't seem too pleased with this revelation. She rolled her eyes, letting go of her hair; "She's not even a cheerleader," 

"And? I'm tired of you lot," 

"Romie, come on!" The nickname nearly made me puke in my mouth, effectively wiping my smile off my face. I watched as Jessica proceeded to reach out and put a hand on his arm, pursing her lips like a dumb fucking bimbo-- "I don't think a girl like that could handle you... sexually."

Ew! I wanted to slam my head against the door. Would that relieve the pain of hearing this conversation?

But Jessica continued; "Everyone knows she's been crazy about you for some time now. Everyone except Letha knew, actually, but that girl is more gullible than a lamb! But you must be aware that your girlfriend thinks you walk on water? You're dating the epitome of your fucking stalker. But does that turn you on, maybe?"

Roman blinked twice before brushing Jessica's hand off with a silent scoff (finally). He found his lighter in his back pocket, lighting his cigarette as he rolled his eyes. "Shut your filthy whore mouth," he grumbled, cig sitting between his lips. When he was done lighting it, he held the lighter out dangerously close to Jessica's face-- "I'll burn your disgusting extensions right off."

She didn't seem too phased by it on the outside, but I could see the slight tremble in her hands as she now gripped the counter. Was this how Roman talked to other girls? How had I not noticed this before? "No need," Jessica said, gulping. "I can see you're taking her... seriously." She cleared her throat, letting out a shaky breath as Roman moved away. Jessica didn't have much time with her usual clean air before he blew the smoke from his cigarette in her face, and she quickly fell into a coughing fit.

I realized what I was watching when Roman smiled with evil glee at the sight of her pain. The version of Roman he used to be. It felt like I had opened a portal back to two months ago, before anything between us had happened and he was running around stabbing people with needles to get a rush.

"Of course I'm taking her seriously," Roman said, letting the cigarette rest between his lips. "I actually like her this time, unlike anything I've ever felt for you. She's sweet, and you're like... maggots crawling out from the depths of hell compared to her."

... Ouf. 

Jessica didn't seem to be taking this very well. Her blue eyes hardened, traces of tears welling up in her eyes as her grip on the counter tightened to the point where her knuckles started to whiten-- "You're lovely tonight, as always," she mumbled, hurt. Her voice grew bitter; "But where is your girl, then? Did you leave her at home to come here alone? 

Roman exhaled the smoke through his nose with one quick breath, turning to his friends when they called his name. He was thrown the beer-pong ball, and he effectively ignored Jessica's questions to play his turn in the game.

His lack of answers seemed to give her hope that he might stray. Jessica sat forward on the counter, drying any traces of welled-up tears as she lit up. "Oh, Romie," she purred-- I nearly threw up in my mouth again. "It's nice to see you don't change."

"What is that supposed to mean?" Roman turned to her, brows drawn together. 

Jessica sighed, once again reaching out to rest her hand on his bicep. The worst part was when she gave it a little squeeze and her eyes locked on him-- fuck. "One girl will never be enough for you. You're aware of that, right?" She moved further to the edge of the counter (could she not fall off already?), batting her lashes; "If you're here tonight because you're not satisfied, I know a few ways to... satisfy you."

That was it. This was sickening. Had I not been so nervous to hear Roman's response, I would've lunged forward and slammed her empty head down to the floor. However, I could only press my body against the wall I was hiding behind, listening to the dampening of my breath as my heart thumped harshly against my ribs-- this was torture. This was complete and utter torture. 

I'm waiting for you unbearably.

Unbearably. 

This was unbearable.

It felt as though my chest was caving in on itself, threatening to make me a ball of nothing again, until Roman finally moved; gripping Jessica's hand with two fingers, he removed her off of him as though he was disgusted to even be touching her. "Are you maybe a little hard of hearing? Perhaps you hit your head really hard when you were younger, I have no idea, but I'll make it nice and comprehensible for you, okay?" He exhaled another cloud of smoke, fogging up Jessica's face as he leaned in dangerously close, lowering his voice as he spoke; "I don't want you or your cheerleaders, and I never will again. Never."

I was two seconds away from fainting out of sheer happiness-- my cheeks reddened. This was everything I had ever hoped to hear from him, and my anxieties floated out of my body with my next sigh of relief. I was ready to step into the kitchen and save Roman from this situation, hoping he'd be happy to see me now that he'd had this conversation about his feelings for me, but my plans were abruptly stopped when I heard a familiar voice call out my name.

My anxiety zapped itself right back into me as I froze to my spot, waiting for the wall to swallow me whole, never to be seen again. No, no, no!

I could only watch as Daniel approached me, giddy as ever with a beer in his hand. Were the Gods above playing tricks on me, perhaps? It was clear that he was drunk, and he tried to get his blonde hair out of his eyes repeatedly as he now stood before me, a broad grin on his face. "Well, don't you look nice," 

Why was he speaking so loudly? I was afraid Roman would hear and come out to check if his suspicions were correct. "Thanks," I mumbled, anxiously wavering back and forth on my feet as I pondered whether to flee or not. "Look, Daniel, you shouldn't--"

"What, talk to you?" He leaned down a little, his mood immediately shifting as he said my name once more like venom. It was clear in his eyes that he had come up to me with an argument in mind. "Don't tell me the rumours are true and you're actually with that guy?" 

Oh, how little I wanted to have this conversation. I so desperately didn't want to. Not with Roman at hearing distance. "Yeah, I am,"

Daniel snorted, rolling his eyes as he pulled back with a pretentious chuckle. With the way he was swaying, I could see that he'd had at least five beers or so. It explained the disgusting ramble of words that ensued; "Shit... Didn't think you were brainless like that. You're just a dumb fucking slut just like the rest of them, aren't you? Can't believe I ever thought you were different... Nice guys truly finish last, don't they?" 

Nice? I grimaced. Did this guy genuinely think he was nice? I was shocked to realize I even thought so of him at one point. My lips parted in shock; I hadn't heard him talk like this before. This was nauseating. Still, I knew I had to snap back-- I was about to speak up, protect myself unlike how I had handled myself during the whole Letha-mess, but I didn't get a chance to. 

I didn't even have to look to know who was now standing in the door to the kitchen, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed over his chest. Roman's eyes narrowed, locking in on Daniel's with a chilling look; "What did you just say to her?" he said, voice low, dangerous.

Daniel's smirk was immediately wiped off his face. "Fuck-- Fuck off, Godfrey. This is none of your business," 

"None of my business?" Roman echoed, tilting his head to the side as he feigned confusion. "Nah, that's not how this is gonna go down." He stepped away from the door, nearing Daniel with threatening steps. "You get a little drunk, and suddenly forget you fucking crumble at the sight of me? You're shaking, Goldman, but you have balls enough to insult my girl?" 

Now that Roman had pointed it out, I immediately saw it. Daniel's hand had a slight tremble as he clutched the can of beer harder with his next words; "You know she could do so much better than you, right?"

I held my breath, watching Roman's every movement. At this point, I was scared Daniel had hit too big of a homerun on that insult. 

I wondered when Roman would-- oh, there it was. With one last step forward, he managed to yank Daniel forward with a choking grip around the collar of his shirt. I felt my breath escape me with a gasp, unsure whether to intervene or not. "Roman, don't!--"

It was too late. Roman wasn't hearing me. Selective hearing. "If you wanna go, Goldman, then we're gonna go!" he raged, tightening his grip as he yanked Daniel forward like a ragdoll. "Don't be a fucking pussy, fight me if you're so keen on walking around with a black eye!"

I was both mortified and scared as I watched Daniel's face turn a peculiar shade of purple. I had never seen such a prominent look of fear in my life. His hands were clawing at Roman's as he sputtered incoherent squeaks, and after five seconds too long, Daniel was let out of the death grip. It took even less time for him to sprint out of our sight. 

Roman turned to me, brows still drawn together in fury. He was catching his breath, and he was not yet out of fight mode when he practically barked at me; "And since when have you been at this stupid party?!" 

"Ask Peter!" I squeaked. "It was his plan, all of it! He wanted us to talk!" Watching the confusion spread in Roman's green eyes, I cleared my throat before I continued; "Actually, I want us to talk as well... Could we please just?--"

Within a split second, he was gone. Gone. I stood by the wall, lips parting in complete and utter confusion-- how had he managed to disappear like that? Run off like that? Suddenly, my mind shot in a passage from The Avoidable Vampirism;

The classic traits of a upir:

Enhanced strength

Heightened senses

Mesmerization

Unnatural speed

-- No, stop it! I had to physically smack my head to snap out of it this time. Roman wasn't a fucking upir, he was just in withdrawal as Peter said! 

... Right?

The alcohol was certainly not helping my state right now.

As I stood glued to the wall like the biggest wallflower known to man, I pondered the question that had haunted me all day; why was Roman so scared to talk to me? After I had heard how he spoke of me to Jessica, and how he had just called me his girl to Daniel along with the whole fight for my honour, it surely couldn't be a question of his feelings towards me?

This seemed to be an evening of many flashbacks; Letha's words were suddenly ringing in my ears-- "It usually helps to dig into what set him off. And then, when you think you have the answer, rip it apart and look through the pieces,"

... Fine. Let's start.

What had set him off? It was clearly that I didn't want to sleep with him last night, right?

Okay-- Now I had to rip it apart and look through the pieces.

"Aren't you breaking up with me?" he'd asked earlier today. Roman seemed genuinely confused that I wasn't there to dump him. Had he really expected me to discard of him so quickly over a simple miscommunication? 

Then it hit me that Roman might be crazy enough to have avoided me all along because he thought the next conversation would be the one where I'd finish the job. 

With a loud groan, I started my search around the party. Idiot! I was going to find this man no matter what. If I had to pin him down and scream some sense into him, so be it.

He wasn't downstairs— I could exclude that after a quick swipe of the floor. I somehow managed to make my way through the dense crowd on the stairs, now checking every room. To be honest, I was terrified of walking in on something I didn't want to see, but a tiny part of me thought it might even be good for me to see just a snippet-- I didn't know much about real sex, anyway. Still, I let out a relieved sigh when I scoured all the rooms without having violated my vision. 

But my relief didn't last long. I allowed my shoulders to slump as I came to a halt, realizing I had circled the upper floor with no trace of him. The deafening music was starting to hurt my ears, and I was about to cover them when I suddenly heard a loud bang coming from the closet to my right followed by a breathy, angry shit. 

Oh my. Gotcha. I approached the door with careful steps, holding back a beaming smile as I knocked twice; "Roman...?"

I heard him shuffling around, a short groan following; "... Nope," 

It took a lot of concentration to not burst out into a fit of laughter. It felt as though all my anger left my body, unable to concentrate on anything other than how ridiculously cute he was when he was drunk like this. "Can I come in?"

"... That's what he said,"

"Come in? I think you might've gotten it a little twisted,"

I could almost hear him rolling his eyes; "Who are you to argue, virgin?"

Enough was enough. With a small creak, I opened the door to the closet--

Oh.

This was certainly not the sight I expected to see. Roman's green eyes immediately found mine, big with embarrassment. There he was, splayed out on the floor of the tiny closet with a hot pink crop top on his head. I assumed it had landed on him after he fell over, and I tried to take a mental image for later amusement. 

I was about to laugh-- However, as I closed the door behind me and stared down at Roman's flushed face, almost the same colour as the ridiculous pink crop top, I just melted. Easy as that. All the pent-up anger, all the frustration I wanted to take out on him, it all liquified into molten lava and became one with the earth.

What a mess he was. What an absolute, utter mess. Roman's green eyes were big, huge even, as he stared up at me, his breath coming out in small, ragged heaves. He looked terrified of my next words, like he was bracing for a good verbal beating--

I crouched down, making space between his long legs that practically took up the whole closet. With careful movements, I pulled the crop top off his head and cupped his pretty face; "Rome," I cooed. "You thought I was going to break up with you?"

It felt like I was talking to a child. I was aware I risked Roman exploding on me for taking that tone with him, but I figured he was too drunk to really sense it. "Yeah," he breathed, keening against my touch. "Makes sense that you'd want to."

Fuck, he was unbearably cute, like a lost little puppy. "No, it doesn't," I murmured. Why was it so hard for him to understand? "I'm not breaking up with you. Is that why you've been avoiding me today? Were you worried I was going to do that?"

Almost like a child, Roman nodded. "I just... don't want to lose you. But I fucked up again," he whispered, practically pouting. "I was so mean. Last night and today."

I stroked my thumb over his cheek, watching his response to my attempts at comfort. Something told me he hadn't been held like this before. "Roman... You're not losing me any time soon, and you were obviously a little hurt too. I guess it's a... vulnerable thing to initiate. You're allowed to feel what you feel,"

"But it was wrong,"

"What was?"

"My feelings," he mumbled. "It's just-- I'm not used to caring about a girl like this. Previously, if I didn't get my way, I could leave with no repercussions. But this time, it hit me about ten minutes later on the highway that this was you and not some random girl. You. And I was just so consumed with the urge to... ugh, I don't want to say it out loud, but you know. It gets unbearable at times. I haven't wanted anyone like this before, I just don't know how the fuck to behave!"

I was sure my cheeks were burning. Holy fuck. "Ah... I see," My knees got tired from crouching, so I sat down on the little free space left on the floor. "Look, your feelings aren't wrong. They never are. Your feelings are your feelings. But what I don't get is that I told you I wasn't up for... sex simply because my parents were on the other side of the wall. I would totally be up for it if they weren't. Did you not register that, maybe?"

"I don't know, but... it's not really about the sex. I guess it got me wondering whether you're just a little shy, or if you secretly don't want to be with me anymore," Roman took my hands into his before his gaze shied away. His voice lowered into a barely audible whisper as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the nearby wall; "You didn't once say you wanted me too. I guess I just concluded you didn't want me at all."

I fought the instinct to freeze. I saw his point, recognized his anxiety (and severe attachment issues), yet I needed to point out one very simple truth;  "But... I'm crazy about you. You know I want you,"

"No, I don't," he breathed. "You make me feel like a fucking rapist."

"A... What?!" I gave his hands a harsh squeeze-- "Roman, what are even you saying?"

He scoffed, eyeing me with his head still leaning against the wall. Hiccuping from all the alcohol, he spoke; "I'm always on you like a fucking dog in heat. You never initiate, and I'm constantly worrying whether I'm taking advantage or not. And to make that clear, that's not what I want to do,"

All of this was beyond shocking to hear. Was this maybe also the supposed withdrawal speaking? "Rome, you're not taking advantage. Not at all! I'm just... shy, I guess?" I brought one of his hands up to my mouth, pressing my lips against his knuckles. "I never thought you needed to hear me say it too. I'm sorry."

Surprisingly, Roman pouted-- "Say it, then," he whined. Had he been standing, I was sure he'd stomp his foot like a toddler.

I couldn't help but smile. I liked whiny-drunk Roman. "Say what, Rome?"

"Spit it out,"

"Would you stop running away from me then?"

"... Yes,"

I took a deep breath, suppressing a nervous giggle. Roman's green eyes drilled into me, holding me still as I tried to find the courage to say it to his face. It was nearly impossible, and I felt my cheeks flush a rather peculiar shade of pink, similar to Roman's alcohol-flush. And also the hot pink crop top. I was definitely stealing that one.

I let go of Roman's hands, crawling over to straddle his lap. My arms draped around his neck, and he shifted as he looked up at me with those gorgeous, green eyes of his. My Roman. "You already know I'm crazy about you,"

"Yeah, you tree-carving freak," 

"Hey!" Now, it was impossible not to laugh. Thankfully, he laughed with me. "But sure, I'll take it. I carved our initials into a tree, and I'd do it all over again. And you know why?"

Roman's eyes practically sparkled; "Why?"

I lowered my face to hover right above his, feeling his hot breath against my parted lips. "Because I crave you. Carnally," I whispered, watching his pupils rapidly widen. "What am I if not yours? Yours to take, yours to claim, yours to... fuck."

Roman's signature smirk was back, shinier than ever. "Now, now, don't be shy with it," he purred, his arms snaking around my waist to pull me flush against him. "Say more."

Fucking hell. There was certainly no space to hold back any longer. "Yeah, you want more?" I had to bite back a smirk of my own. "Don't be a fucking brat, then. Kiss me if you do."

Roman's eyes widened, not expecting me to say anything remotely close to that. Still, his lips parted as his smirk morphed into a blinding grin. With one smooth move, he ran one hand up into my hair, pulling me in for the shortest, sweetest kiss known to man. "I'm impatient," he said. "Go on."

"Brat," It felt nice to finally say that out loud. From the first time I had a proper conversation with him, that word had been stuck in my mind. 

Roman rolled his eyes, letting me laugh into the needy kiss that followed. It didn't take long before I melted, relishing in the soft pillows of his lips against mine, the feeling I had longed for ever since he stormed off my roof last night. "I want you," I said, mouthing my words into the kiss. "So bad. So, so bad."

Roman moaned-- "More,"

My hands went up into his hair, fingers reaching for the tips of his dark locks to press him further against me as the kiss deepened. I had never felt this desperate before in my life. Still, I somehow found the strength to pull away; I got an idea. "No. We're playing a little game first,"

Roman groaned, glaring at me as he rested his head against the wall. "For fuck's sake," he mumbled. "Now?"

"Now," I placed my hands on his chest, unable to hold my laugh. My little idea was genius. "Have you noticed where we are?"

"... At a party?"

"Where?"

"In a closet?--" Roman's words came to a halt as his eyes widened, and a knowing grin spread across his plush lips. "Oh my."

I hummed, pressing my fingers into his chest. Right now, I was sure I had adopted the classic Roman-smirk; "Up for a round of seven minutes in heaven?"

"... Isn't it a little blasphemous to play without the bottle?" Roman proceeded to laugh, rubbing circles into my thighs. "Actually, fuck yeah. I’m up for it.”

"Seven minutes," I purred, grabbing my phone and putting on a timer. "You once said that seven minutes with you were enough to show everything I needed to know about being with you in that way..." 

To be honest, I had no idea what had come over me. Was it perhaps the alcohol? But the intrigue shimmering in Roman's keen eyes told me all I needed to know-- I watched his pupils expand as the hands I had rested against his chest started traveling down his body. And Jessica thought I couldn't handle him sexually? Hah! "It seems it's my turn to show how it would be with me, no?" 

Roman's lips parted, staring up at me in disbelief; "If you're just teasing me now, I'm going to die on the spot. I swear. My death will be on your hands,"

I could only laugh, biting down on my lip to lower my voice. "Don't you dare," I said, slowly reaching for the clasp of his belt. 

Watching the widening of Roman's big, green eyes never failed to amuse me, especially not now. "Baby," he breathed, his lips curving into a smile. "Don't fuck with me, I swear--"

"Am not," After unbuckling Roman's belt, I decided to tease him by trailing my hands away from the zip of his pants, my fingers ghosting over his hard-on. It seemed the excitement was getting to him already, and to my surprise, I could feel him hardening beneath my palms. 

The loud music was so far away now, just as everything else was-- My mind was even further away, possibly residing on the planet Neptune, because how the hell had I managed to convince myself I knew how to do this? 

Fuck it-- it can't be that hard, right?

Certainly not harder than Roman was now, anyway. 

This was an enigma to me, all of it. I could only go off instinct; and just as I was about to slide my hand beneath the band of his boxers, Roman grabbed my hand. "Hold on," he breathed, bringing my palm to his lips. "Step one is to never go anywhere dry." His green eyes locked on mine, not breaking eye contact as he placed several wet kisses against my palm, slicking it. Shivers ran down my spine as I felt his tongue swipe along my skin, because fuck, this was intense-- my breath hitched. Roman's soft laugh rang in my ears as he let go of my hand, giving back the control. 

Fuck. My heart was pounding. Were my hands shaking? I had no idea-- it felt as though I had blacked out for a few seconds, and when Roman pulled me into a heated kiss and brought me back to my senses, my fingers were gently brushing against the hard tip of his cock. 

I could feel Roman's breath hitch just slightly against my lips, and it immediately made my cheeks burn. What the fuck was I doing? I so desperately hoped no one would walk in on us like this, me straddling him with his dick in my hand. That would certainly only taint my reputation further-- no, actually, fuck that. I wanted to stay connected like this forever, Roman's soft lips moving against mine with a need I didn't remember in him. 

It took a lot of willpower to break the kiss even just for a second, but it was too damn fucking dark in this stupid closet. I watched as Roman's lashes fluttered, how his chest raised in heaving motions, how the vial of my blood rested against the peak of his sternum-- I decided to go for the wish to kiss him right there. 

Roman's skin was so unbelievably soft. There was no flavour to it as I swiped my tongue against his collarbone, not even a trace of alcohol from his perfume, and this was the moment it dawned on me that this might be my favourite place to kiss him. I didn't often have access, but when I did, I could feel the soft raise of his shoulders with his every breath-- and fuck, how I loved his shoulders. I finally wrapped my fingers around his length, deciding not to toy with him any longer. 

He let out a shaky breath just as I sucked down on his collarbone to leave a mark; Roman was long gone now. His head lolled to the side, his breath escaping him with a short huff. "Fuck," he whispered, bringing his hand up to twist into the nape of my neck, pulling me away from him to press the soft pillows of his mouth against mine in another hot, needy kiss.

This was certainly a big difference to the last time we had played this game. We had barely kissed properly, and our lips had only grazed each other compared to whatever this was. I couldn't believe how unbelievably scared I had been the first time.

I smiled into the kiss, remembering our first. 

Roman cursed against my lips, his hips bucking just slightly into my grip around his cock. With his free hand, he placed his on top of mine, guiding me to pick up my pace.

I realized my heart was almost thumping to the exact same pace as the music downstairs-- "Is this okay?" I whispered, relishing in the short breaths of pleasure spilling from his mouth.

Roman shot me a look, although it didn't look as intimidating as he probably intended; with his lids halfway closed, the hunger for me shone through. "You know damn well,"

It was impossible not to smile. God, I was so crazy about this man. "Rome?"

A hum.

I leaned in closer, pressing a sweet kiss against his ear; "I want you so bad," I whispered, feeling his breath hitch as I kissed down his jaw. "I need you to know that. Rome, I always want you." Never in a million years did I think I'd ever see him like this, panting beneath me, pre-cum spilling from the slit of his cock. Never in my wildest dreams. But he had driven me near mad with his stupidity these past twenty-four hours, so I had no problem bringing him down to the depths of vulnerability with me-- finally, we had switched places.

Roman's hands traveled up my thighs, giving my ass a proper squeeze as he groaned just slightly; "Want you too," he breathed, letting his head rest against the wall as I worked my digits around his length. His lips parted, his eyes shut as his lashes fluttered just slightly; "Always. Always want— hah, want you. You know me."

Had I not been so taken with the sheer beauty of him right now, I would've swooned. I was shocked I hadn't fainted from how hard my heart was beating, anyway. "I adore you, Rome. Do you know that?"

A small yeah was Roman's only reply, his head rolling back and forth, thighs clenching, cock twitching. He was close. His next words were rushed, quick; "Fuck, where do I...? Fuck--" 

"Don't think about it," I murmured, my free hand running gently through his hair. Slowly, I reached for the pink crop top nearby; this was my only solution at the moment. "Just enjoy."

Roman practically whimpered; "Shit, shit, gonna--"

I watched as he threw his head back, panting hard as he spilled into the top. I felt his warm cum running down the inside of it as I stroked him through his high. "Fuck, fuck--" Roman was rambling at this point, failing to steady his breath through it.

My lips parted, feeling as though I had bitten into the forbidden fruit. The image before me gave me a high, unlike anything I had ever had before. It was probably similar to the feeling Roman used to achieve through cocaine use. I took another quick mental snapshot, knowing this was a sight I wanted to keep for later-- only in case of emergencies, of course. I couldn't help but feel a little proud that I had figured out how to do this stuff to him.

Roman blinked twice, his mind slowly returning to his body. He laughed a little at the sight of the hot pink crop top, shaking his head. "Damn," he breathed. "I'm a little horrified I didn't last seven minutes."

Oh, silly boy-- "Nah, I'm glad you didn't. My hand would be cramping up," I leaned forward with a soft giggle, kissing the tip of Roman's nose as he let out a sigh of relief. "And I also proved my damn point."

He blinked up at me as I pulled away. "Which was...?"

The timer rung-- "Seven minutes are more than enough," 

"Right. That's my line," Roman tucked himself back into his jeans with a huff, laughing softly in a state of denial. "Definitely didn't expect this tonight... Good job." The corners of his mouth slowly curved upwards as he placed a sweet kiss against my cheek. "I'm just so damn glad we're not breaking up."

I had forgotten about that situation for a few minutes, and being reminded of it again was like being slapped out of a nap. "Of course we're not, Roman," I kissed the tip of his nose as I rolled up the crop top-- that felt wrong on all accounts. "If you get all manic about something like that again, please don't shut me out. I nearly went mad."

Roman's pupils dilated further as he reached for the vial of my blood around his neck, twirling it around his finger. "Yeah, we can't break up... Or else that poor tree would've been vandalized for nothing,"

I rolled my eyes. He was never going to let that go, was he? "Alright, that's enough," I mumbled, watching as Roman brought the vial to his lips to press a short kiss against my blood-- it felt odd but intimate. Was he maybe still a little drunk? "Let's get you home, okay? I'll drive your car." With shaky steps, I got up from his lap, bunching up the crop top in one hand. 

Roman hiccuped-- drunk. It was confirmed. "I don't want to," he whined. 

"Come on, Rome, we can't stay in this cramped up fucking closet all night!--"

"Well, what are you gonna do? Throw me over your shoulder and carry me downstairs?"

For fuck's sake. It was impossible not to laugh at that mental image. "We can't stay here any longer! Peter's gonna think we're fucking somewhere, and I certainly don't want to be known as the girl that has sex at parties!--"

"My mom is out of town," Roman said, effectively cutting me off. "Sleep over."

My eyes widened. I knew what that meant. Clutching the damp crop top in my hand, I felt the green of his gaze swallow me whole; "Come on. It'll be fun," Roman got up from the floor, tilting his head a little as he slowly inched forward, making my back hit the wall with the two only steps there were possible to take in this closet. He continued; "Nothing has to happen, but I just... I want to roll around in bed with you in the morning. No interruptions, no parents, nothing. Just us."

I was shocked I didn't become a puddle of mush on the floor. "Just us?"

"Just us," Roman breathed, leaning down to press a short kiss against my lips. But what came next was unexpected; "... And my pet tarantula."

"What?!"

Roman only laughed, his pupils widening with pleasure at the sight of my terror. Some things never change. "Just kidding, baby," he purred, placing a hand on the small of my back as he opened the closet door. And before I had the chance to properly step out of it, he leaned down to whisper against my ear; "It's actually a giant centipede. Lovely pet."

I nearly squirmed out of his grip, shivering. "Please tell me you're joking!" 

Seriously, when will I ever learn? Roman continued to laugh, waving to a few people who passed us by in the corridor as we walked down the hall. "Of course I am,"

"I'm not leaving with you if you have some creepy animal there, I swear!"

"Fine, fine!" He kissed the top of my head, and I felt him smile against my hair. "There are no scary animals there... Just me."

Before I had the opportunity to answer, Roman groaned loudly as he glanced at the crowded stairs when we approached, rolling his eyes. "Ugh, why do people always crowd the goddamn stairs?" He turned back to me; "I just need to find Peter and swipe my keys--"

"Why does he have your keys?"

"... I was threatening to jam them into the side of this guy's head earlier, but that's not important," Roman shot me a charming smile as though he hadn't just said that. "But just hold onto me, okay? I'll wade us through." 

So that's what I did; I clutched onto Roman's hand, feeling his long fingers wrapping around mine as he made way through the crowd, occasionally turning to greet a few people he knew. I was so damn ready to get to his place, to lie down on a bed, and get away from this loud music. Still, a part of me knew we wouldn't be able to stay away from each other tonight, and I felt my chest swell with warmth at the thought of what might happen. What would happen.

But just as I was finally relaxed again and the two of us almost made it down the stairs, I felt another hand on my shoulder the same second Roman turned away to say hi to a friend of his. I turned, gasping just slightly at the shock of a cold touch, and the rest of my breath followed as it dawned on me who I was facing. 

Letha's green eyes were wide, almost as though she had seen a ghost. For a second there, I thought she could read my mind and understand why I was clutching onto a damp crop top. It was still warm-- why was I finding that hot right now? God, I was going insane. But I knew that the sight of Roman and I together would never be a pleasant one for Letha, so I stared back at her with the same bewilderment-- why had she stopped me? 

Letha's following words were almost icy to the touch, hollow to the ear; "Was I right?" 

It felt as though my world stilled. Time stilled. Just for a second, I felt as though I could wade my free hand through the coldness of her phrase, and I could wave away the mirage. She was concerned, curious. Had she genuinely wanted to help me get through this fight with Roman? 

I realized that tonight might be a night of many firsts. My first handjob, my first... time (possibly), and my first step of forgiveness. "Yeah," I breathed. "You were. Thank you." 

Letha's face softened as a relieved sigh escaped her, nodding her head slowly. It had been a long time since the last time she had heard those words from me. "Any time," 

Had Roman not squeezed my hand, I was sure I'd continue standing there, just staring into the eyes of my previous best friend. They looked so, so similar-- Had Letha not been blonde, I would've mistaken them for siblings. Snapping out of it, I turned to my boyfriend who was too busy scowling at his cousin to notice how calm I was about meeting her. "Let's go," he mumbled, repressed jealousy dripping from his voice as another squeeze of my fingers ensued. 

"Yeah... Let's,"

(a/n: thank you so so much for reading!!! mwah!!)

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[sysmedsaresexist]

Changing mindsets, from a Real Anti Endo™️

The Release of the (Pro/Endo) Golden Goose

I hope everyone from all sides will give this important, heartfelt post a read.

It's likely something you'll want to be aware of if you have a vested interest in syscourse and the validity of endogenic systems. Please give this a chance.

It's been almost three years since I started my blogs. Wow. I've been on tumblr a hell of a lot longer, but I really wasn't involved in the system community. I started out firm and loud. I probably inadvertently fakeclaimed (I went into this with the rule that I would NOT directly tell anyone they were faking, it was a boundary that I knew would ruin me socially if I crossed it, but I'm sure I probably did without meaning to), I name called and made fun of people and things. I was disrespectful to people. I invaded tags to get my message out there, though I was quick to stop once I realized I was making the tags unusable for the community I claimed to want to protect.

I learned very quickly what was appropriate and what wasn't, what I could get away with and what I couldn't. It started to become a numbers game, influenced by the risk of the post.

I made a lot of friends and a lot of enemies, and I amassed a following of over 2k. More people have come and gone from my little community than I ever thought possible. People made fanart of me, and I cherish those so deeply. I have over 300 asks because I struggle to delete the ones thanking me.

And the more I was thanked, the nicer I got, the more thanks, the nicer I got, rinse and repeat until I had trouble NOT empathizing with pro/endos. The more I was willing to listen, the more legitimate sources I came across that disproved my original ideas about consciousness. The people sharing the sources were more respectful than I thought they'd be. Things were starting to look a bit cloudy.

I talked to my colleagues about how they, as therapists, would handle some of these endos in their practice, and while their belief in the concept varied, kindness and attempts to understand was the consistent answer. When had I lost that kindness and understanding that had driven me to that field to begin with?

Colleagues, yes. For those who don't know, I have a degree in social services and counselling (plus three other degrees). It's why the current situation with the antis turning on me is so funny. I still can't get into the mindset of some of these new anti endos, I just can't imagine justifying that level of cruelty. I had lines that I wouldn't cross, and I didn't think people could be worse than me.

... That might have been a trauma thing, looking back on it.

So I got desperate.

I spoke to the actual doctors who wrote some of these papers all of us are quoting. Everyone was arguing the meaning of the words, so I went directly to the source.

Dr Colin Ross, who wrote about endogenous multiplicity in the 80s. I told him everything-- about plurals, non-traumagenic systems, syscourse, what was being debated, how I and others interpreted his words, and what I wanted to learn.

Was plurality only trauma based?

And back and forth and back and forth we went, with me asking over and over again in different ways, NEEDING to hear that it was.

But I never got that answer. He meant what he meant. He said what he said and he meant it.

That plurality was not only found in the aftermath of trauma.

And I said nothing to anyone because I couldn't reconcile it.

Don't try to read between the lines, I assure you, there isn't some hidden meaning to be found there. I can't share all of the messages because some contained personal information, but my final response will tell you all you need to know.

(It did NOT, in fact, make sense, and it took me three years to "rethink my paper" that endogenic plurality wasn't possible, I did not win that conversation, it was a dying stance that was not supported)

I've been accused of paying too much attention to my follower count, but I can't really help it. It's really scary when you make a post and see a sizeable drop. It means a lot of different things. My posts have less reach and support. I've upset people. I've done something wrong. My community is leaving me.

I'm in a weird spot, where I'm blocked by so much of the pro/endo community that I have nothing to join, and the anti endo community, who I still wholeheartedly support, continues to leave me for -checks smudged writing on hand- being too nice??

Misinformation about DID is a massive problem, and it's why I still consider myself anti endo and support that community. I relate to them in such a way that I'll always gravitate to and empathize with them.

Or at least, that's what I thought.

At this point, though, how can I not be pro/endo when Colin fucking Ross says it's possible?

I've already written about how I'm really struggling with these labels, and I love the people that have stuck around while I struggle to figure this out.

I hurt when I see the people that once supported me leave.

My (online) world is shrinking. Literally.

That's scary.

When you've watched so many turn away, you start to wonder, with every post, where is the line where the rest are going to leave? Is it this post?

I just want to be me, us, we want to laugh at the stupid crap people say, system or not, I want to talk about my disorder, I want to combat misinformation, I want to have productive, fun conversations about ideas and concepts with people who disagree and have different interpretations. I want to play devil's advocate and get people thinking. I want to be able to comment positivity and kindness on any post I see, I want to feel comfortable talking to more people about their ideas. I sympathize with anti endos, I relate to CDD systems, I still firmly believe that CDDs and plurality are different, unrelated concepts.

My priority will always and forever be the CDD community first and foremost.

However, I am a hypocrite. I have gone straight to the horse's mouth and failed. I've seen so much research that I finally get it. I'm grappling with holding on to this conversation with Dr Ross, wondering what harm I could have prevented if I'd gone public with these emails earlier.

Since when has being open to change been a bad thing?

Since when has showing respect to lived experiences been a bad thing?

What am I? What label describes this?

How do I go forward from here?

What are you going to do with this information?

I promise you, hate isn't the way forward.