#i’d keep the stressed just changing the second word however

[stressedanime]

if i changed my url would yall know me….

[loveharlow]

hi :)

i love your writing! could i request an ajax x reader fic where the reader gets hurt and ajax gets all protective over them and angry with the person who hurt them, sort of angsty

thank you!!

ARE YOU ALRIGHT?

PAIRING ‧₊˚ Ajax Petropolus x Fem!Reader

SYNOPSIS ‧₊˚ [1.7k] Ajax is bit protective of his girlfriend and wants to keep her safe. So when a recently erratic redhead catches her in the Nightshades archives, he isn't too pleased.

WARNING(S) ‧₊˚ swearing, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild violence, Rowan loosing his shit, angry!ajax, mild angst

A/N ‧₊˚ I'm not tryna villainize Rowan , I just needed a conflict. RIP ma boy. PS - To all my gif makers, we need more Ajax gifs please, I will pay you 😭 (not literally I'm broke)

Hope this is good enough for you, anon!

˗ˏˋ ajax masterlist ˎˊ˗

I WAS IN THE NIGHTSHADES LIBRARY, SLUMPED AGAINST ONE OF THE SUPPORT BEAMS AS I READ THE BOOK I’D BEEN STUCK ON FOR THE PAST WEEK. A bowl of grapes on one side of me, occasionally dipping my hand in to grab a few and plop them in my mouth, eyes scanning word after word, paying no mind to my surroundings.

That was, until I heard the familiar screeching of the statue opening to the library. My face screwed in mild confusion, not expecting anyone to be coming. Especially at this hour — it was half past 11 and I should have very well been in my dorm, sleeping. But what Weems and the other staff didn’t know couldn’t hurt them, right?

The footsteps that descended the curved staircases were heavy and frantic, tattered sneakers coming into view as they practically flew down the steps. Fully lifting my head from the worn pages of the novel I was reading, I waited to see who had entered the library — seeing as only a handful of people knew it existed.

However, the face that followed was unexpected. A head of red hair and glasses — what was Rowan doing here? He got kicked out weeks ago. 

He didn’t seem to notice me as he eagerly scanned the bookshelves for…whatever it was he was looking for.

He looked stressed…erratic. Almost like a wild animal, if I’m being honest. He’d been acting strange ever since the new girl showed up but he looked worse than he did when we told him we couldn’t keep him around a couple weeks back. He had deep, red bags under his eyes and his hair looked like he either hadn’t touched it in days or couldn’t stop touching it. 

I let the grape clenched between my fingers fall into the bowl and let the book fall shut, the sudden noise causing the boy to whip around until he set his eyes on me. His shaky gaze went wide before hardening into a glare that I chose to ignore.

Setting the book on the ground, I stood slowly, dusting off my pants as I did so. “Rowan, shouldn’t be in here. You’re not a Nightshade, anymore.” I stated, keeping my distance.

“Y/n…” He muttered my name as if he was scared, putting his hands palm-side down in front of him as he inched closer. “I just need one thing. You don’t have to tell anyone I was here. I’ll be in and out, ’kay? I-I swear.”

I shook my head with regret, hugging myself close with the sleeves of my sweater pulled over my hands. “Rowan, I can’t- It’s not up to me. And even if it was, I'd tell you the same thing. You’ve been off lately…” I spoke meekly, not wanting to set him off as it has been easy to do that lately. Too easy. Dangerously easy.

His eyes squinted, his motions to come closer halting in a heartbeat. A deep scowl formed on his face. “Off? I’ve been off?” He laughed bitterly, looking up at the library ceiling. “That’s really funny coming from one of the elitist assholes who kicked me out of their little secret society the second I didn’t fit your standards anymore.” He snapped, throwing his hand out at me.

My head fell to the side as he spoke, lips parting to speak. “We kicked you out, Rowan, because you were losing your shit and we got sick of your tantrums. It seems not much has changed.” I reprimanded sternly. He started to take slow, calculated steps towards me. So, I started to walk around him, my back going from facing the support beams to me standing in front of the bookshelf, Rowan never taking his eyes off of me. We circled one another, almost taking the others place, with him now standing close to my abandoned book and bowl of grapes. “You’re dangerous. To yourself and us. And we don’t want to get caught up with whatever theory you’re chasing.”

“It's not a theory! It’s-” He took a deep breath, pinching the skin between his brows. “Damn it! Why are all of you so oblivious?! You can’t see the real danger that’s right in front of you-”

He was becoming volatile and unpredictable, in his words and movements. Grasping at his hair as his face became a deep, angry shade of red. “Rowan, you should leave.”

“NO! No, I’m not leaving until I get what I came here for-” He spoke quickly, his words jumbling together. He started towards me, in long strides and I almost didn’t see him coming. I wasn’t thinking clearly and he was starting to scare me.

“Rowan!” I shouted, the sound echoing of the walls and halting his movements. “Just go! I don’t want to hurt you but you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

“I need the book…” He muttered, eyes glancing over the tiles on the floor frantically.

“What-”

“Just give me the damn book!” He shouted, finally snapping.

His right hand shot out and I could feel my body leave the floor as I flew back, my head hitting the wood of the bookshelves, disorienting me for a few moments. My head was spinning and the room was split into two as I tried to regain my consciousness. 

All of a sudden, what sounded like two pairs of footsteps were trampling down the steps, two blurry figures coming into view and shouting at Rowan. Inaudible statements I couldn’t make out. 

When my senses balanced back out, I could finally see the two people who’d entered the hidden library — Ajax and Bianca, shouting worriedly at Rowan.

“What the hell?! Stop!”

“Rowan, let her go!”

Rowan was simply shaking his head and squinting his eyes so tight, it had to have hurt. It looked like he was trying to block out his own thoughts and failing miserably. 

“Mmm.. shut up!” The angry boy shouted, causing his psychic hold on me to somehow put more pressure on my chest, constricting my airflow as I gasped for air — my chest was caving in. And if he didn't let me down, I knew I might die.

“You’re gonna kill her! Put her down!” Bianca pleaded. None of us were thinking straight. I looked ahead at my best friend and boyfriend, my eyes watering in struggle as my fists clenched at nothing. 

They spared a glance at one another before Ajax was reaching up at his beanie, going to tug it off before Bianca stopped him — shaking her head ‘no’ before she was marching up to Rowan and throwing his shoulder back.

Using her siren voice to force him into capitulation. “Put her down.”

Rowan's hands fell to his side limply, my lungs filling with air as my body slid rapidly down the wood of bookshelves and Ajax sped across the room as fast as he could to catch my frame before it collided with the hard floor.

His arms went under me, holding me bridal style before sitting down and lifting my head onto his lap, rubbing my cheek with one hand as I gripped the sleeve of his hoodie with mine.

“Breathe, it’s okay. You’re okay, it's alright. I got you...” he coaxed as I caught my breath.

Once I was breathing, shakily but breathing nonetheless, his head snapped to Rowan who was arguing to Bianca. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” He growled. “You could have killed her!”

“Ajax, it’s fine.” His gaze whipped back down to me, his glare harsh and angry — frightened. 

“Fine?” He said incredulously. “That wasn’t fine! He isn’t even supposed to be here. This is why we kicked him to the curb in the first place.” He ranted, turning back to Rowan who looked regretful about his actions but not necessarily sorry. “Because we knew some shit like this was bound to happen!” 

“I didn’t mean to...She was-”

“I don’t give a fuck.” Ajax said lowly, his eyes hard and dark. 

“You need to leave.” Bianca said sternly, arms crossed and eyes dead-set on him. Rowan stood in his place, stuttering like a fish out of water before she spoke again, much more conviction in her tone. “Now.”

Then the boy was dipping his head down and rushing up the stairs and out of the library. “Next time I see you, I’ll kick your ass!” Ajax shouted after him. He wasn’t the type to make threats but stoners had a type of strength like no other, so it wasn't one to be taken lightly.

Bianca rushed over to me who was now sitting up slow out of Ajax’s lap.

“Are you alright?” She asked worriedly. I nodded, coughing lightly once or twice. Ajax had a hand set on my back as I allowed my head to fall onto his chest, his free hand coming up to cradle my head.

“Thank you.” I muttered, voice still shaky. “But, why were you guys down here?”

Bianca smiled pitifully and rubbed her hand up and down my forearm. “I woke up and you weren't in the dorm, I got worried. I asked Ajax if you were with him and he said no, said he had an idea where you might be.”

“I told you to stop coming down here alone.” Ajax reminded firmly, looking down at me from where I was perched against his chest. I muttered an ‘I know’ and a ‘sorry’ before letting my arms go around his waist and hug him closer. Bianca let her hand fall from my arm, sending us both a look before bidding goodnight and leaving the library. 

Ajax and I sat like that for a while before he moved to stand, my arms falling from him as he rose. Dusting off his pajama pants, he outstretched a hand to help me stand. I wrapped both of my arms around one of his as we left the library together — my bowl of grapes and book abandoned and long forgotten.

When we got outside, I clung to him tighter as a chill swept by, my lungs thanking the breeze. “Can I sleep with you tonight?”

He didn’t stop walking as he leaned to kiss the top of my forehead. “‘Course you can.” He replied as we continued to walk together.

We made it to his room without being caught, going inside and getting comfortable under his covers. It wasn’t long before we clung to each so close, you couldn’t tell where he started and I ended.

“I’m sorry that happened to you. But I promise I won’t let it happen again.” He assured me sleepily.

“I know., but it wasn't your fault.” I mumbled, burying my face in his chest. “Love you.” 

“I love you, too.” He muttered, lifting my chin to peck my lips before allowing me to bury my face into his chest once more. His arms tugged me closer. I knew he was still fuming from what happened and I'd have to try and talk him down from potentially killing Rowan, or recruit Xavier to do it for me. In a weird way, I found it endearing to know he cared so much. But I don't like to see him upset.

And even though my chest still felt heavy and achy, and I’d have to sneak back to the girl’s dorm at the crack of dawn praying not to be spotted by Weems or the teachers — I knew it’d be okay.

feedback is appreciated! thanks for reading.

©loveharlow

[gay-dorito-dust]

Hellooo!<3 I

So I was hoping if maybe I could get some head cannons of Bi-Han having a s/o who has ADHD, his s/o has medicine for their ADHD they just don’t take it simply out of spite. His s/o could be found being bored by like almost everything, but the second you give his s/o for example paint in a bag they will be quiet for hours on end just messing and playing with it.

Is this accurate to the adhd experience? Probably not. Did I claim it would? Nope, I didn’t guarantee anything as i don’t know how adhd actually works. So take this with an EXTREME grain of salt cuz most of the info comes from the nhs website. 🦦

Ooc Bi-Han? None of this fitting his character? Probably so but I’m too tired to even care. 🦦

Bi-Han was made well aware that you hated taking your meds and would even straight up act coy when the topic on whether or not you had taken your meds came up. So much so that he’d probably see to it that you do take your medication on time but seeing as he was Grandmaster, he’s not granted the time to monitor your medication, seeing as how you often refuse to take it out of spite. (Not babying. Never babying, your a grown ass adult.)

So he’s grown use to seeing you lying on the floor, staring up at the ceiling in pure boredom, feeling every single second that painfully passed you by that even minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days to you with how fucking bored out of your mind you were. Nothing you did held your attention long enough to satisfy that part of your brain, not the games on your phone that you lost interest in second after downloading, not reading as you could barely get past the prologue never less the first chapter; not even the toys that you purposefully bought for this exact reason got couldn’t satiate your brain.

On a side note who reads prologues anyway? I know I don’t cuz I’d rather get straight into it.

You were so fucking bored that even saying that that you were bored was becoming boring in of itself. But Bi-Han knew of your one weakness; paint in a bag. An even bigger weakness of yours would be if the bag contained two or more different colours that make an entirely new colour when messed with enough.

Or even the kind where you get to choose how many colours you want to put in the bag and go fucking apeshit with it to your hearts content. For the physical changing of the colours were both equally fascinating and captivating that you could go at it for hours on end and not grown bored.

Bi-Han accommodates you however he can, changing up when needed and when you’ve grown tired of certain things that once held your interest. He knows he can be a dick sometimes but never when his beloved is in need to help them throughout the day. So when he had given the bag of paint, you were immediately zoned in moulding the colours together and spreading the paint as far into the corners as you possibly could, and all without an word passing from your lips as your brows furrowed in concentration like you were making a masterpiece.

Anyways, Bi-Han is well aware of your inability to finish a task, so naturally what you put down to pursue other tasks, he picks up and finishes for you. He’s your calm and he would never hold anything against you…unless it actively puts you in danger then that’s an entirely different thing entirely.

He’s also the person who seemingly knows where everything you put is and so whenever you ask for the whereabouts of your keys, your shoes, socks, whatever. Bi-Han would always direct you as to where they are or just keep ahold of them until you inevitably ask and you press a kiss to his cheek in gratitude.

During situations where you’re in deep stress or in need of an outlet, he’ll get you your paint in a bag to help you destress and let out any frustrations your had onto mushing the paint together forcefully. If it helps you during times of boredom then he believes that it will also help you in times of stress and discomfort.

You and Bi-Han were so different from one another that you just work well together, you honestly had no clue where you’d be without Bi-Han being the more levelheaded of the two of you in certain stimuli and being a massive help with your frequent bouts of boredom, your inability of prioritisation, and everything else your ADHD came along with.

He withheld an extreme amount of patience, probably from all the training he’s done his entire life and the lessons he’s learn from them about timing and all that. So when you interrupt him, he just lets you speak your entirety without making you feel like shit about it; but to Bi-Han if you wanted to speak, then he’ll let you speak and listen to you fully to everything you said.

Everyone wants to be listens to right?

Bi-Han would also probably act as your personal reminder, writing down or verbally telling you things that you had clearly forgotten that you were doing some days, whether that be appointments if, you have them, hangouts with friends, date plans, etc. you found it fascinating how he could remember so many dates, times, events and other things you’ve agreed to in the past as you’d naturally forget; or if ever on the off chance you do remember but just come extremely late or on the wrong day.

Bi-Han is use to lonesome and monochrome cold silences but when you entered his life, it was like he could see, taste and feel the colour of life warning his ice cold heart. He wasn’t use to it but overtime he found himself not wanting to go back to the life he lived before you, not realising how desperate for company he was until he was devoid of it.

Will he admit it to you though? No, he’s got a reputation to uphold after all but that don’t he won’t shows he cares in other ways.

Ignore if you don’t agree; Things that I’d like to think are in the same vein as paint in a bag or things that would defiantly hold me up for a good while:

Lava lamps

Liquid floor tiles

Water filled stress tube toys (especially the bigger ones that have like glitter and all sorts in them. I want one now. :( )

Pens that have the liquid stuff in them. (we all know your not buying them cuz they’re pens but for the entertainment value that the liquid gives. I should know cuz I use to have a lot of them as a kid. My go to pen for obvious reasons.)

[cupids-chamber]

Thought, MAD SCIENTIST IDIA, who decides to offer you a job when in need, as a tester for certain.. 'experiments' he has.. offering you a place to stay.. and etc.. How will things end here?..

CONTENT TAGS: Readers gender is not specified, Obsessive behavior, Implied(?) Yandere themes(?), Mention of medication/human experiments, Implied stalking, Kidnapping/abduction, 1.5k words.

"Are you nervous?” He asked, his voice ripping you out of your subconscious state, as you felt his hand on your shoulder, gently putting your hair aside, an action that caused you to let out a shaky breath.. “There’s no reason to be, this process is merely an extra precaution.. It won’t hurt in the slightest.” he sounded so sure of himself, the aura of sheer confidence pierced through the air, yet it did nothing to calm your worries as the memories of Idia’s previous experiments replayed in your head. 

Sensing your worries once more, he let out a annoyed sigh.. “Come on… When have I ever lied to you?” he asked, his tone growing more stern, a change from his soft exterior moments before, and to be quite honest, you can recall a few previous memories that you’d much rather not bring up. Idia was a rather emotional client.. 

Though you use the term client sparingly, he and you used to be close.. Well before this employer and employee thing had begun’, sometimes you’d regret this decision, to work for a friend.. A friend who was most definitely not mentally stable, however at the time you really didn’t have much of a choice.. you were in crippling debt.. And he was willing to pay the price needed for the perfect test toy… 

“The medications will activate in a bit’, would you like anesthetic?” he asked, his last ounce of consideration for you, until of course the procedure was over, you didn’t question why Idia was so stern on keeping the procedures intentions a secret from you, usually he’d explain to you the details of such intense experiments, just to ease your concern a bit.. However, you simply assumed that he had the best of intentions in mind, sure he wasn’t the safest person to be entangled with.. However, he would never hurt you.. After the few years you’ve been working with him, you were more than aware of how he’d hate it when you're hurt, making sure any cuts you received in or out of work, were treated with much care, he hated the sight of blood, no.. correction.. He hated the sight of your blood.. He’d personally treat your wounds, and take care of you when you fell ill from one of the more.. Let’s just say concerning experiments. 

Idia repeated his question a bit louder this time, catching your attention “Ah— yes.. I’d rather not feel or remember what happens to me.. I don’t like that Idea.” you reply, second guessing yourself a tad bit, it wasn’t first time jitters, as you’ve been on this same bed, with these same weirdly shaped instruments, sharp objects, instruments, and devices surrounding you many times before, you can’t quite remember your first time here as well due to the sheer amount of times you’ve been here, though a part of you can bet it was due to some medicine or drug that Idia may or may have not given you during the entire experience. 

The gap in your memories proved to be quite annoying, oftentimes you couldn’t recall the simplest things, Idia would do it for you.. Though you aren’t quite sure, if his recollection of a certain memory was any good, he had led you into many complications and sure, he may have helped solve many of them, but it wasn’t a good sign either way.. To be quite honest, you’d have left his estate long ago, if you could… But for some reason, something always stopped you.. an unexplainable force… or maybe you were overthinking due to stress.. yeah… that seemed reasonable.

Idia returned with some form of medication, “You don’t like the sight of needles.. Especially after last time.. So I think these will be much more favorable for you? Though they are not as strong as a needle” he handed you the pills, and you gave him a small smile, taking the glass of water you had left moments prior when taking some other form of medication, in your hands. You quickly swallowed the pill and chugged the water down. 

“How long will it take before the pills activate?” you asked, the bitter taste of the pill lingered at the bottom of your throat, and you wished you could have brought more water though you were well aware that you shouldn’t have too much water in your system, you didn’t quite know why, but it was.just something Idia emplaced in his small but important list of lab rules. 

“About an hour and a half, but I need you to stay here.” you nodded as Idia walked off… ‘Well that’s odd, he never leaves me alone’, and it was true.. For as long as you can remember Idia has never left you unattended, especially after you took any form of medication, it was his way of ensuring your safety, or so you thought. You should probably get cozy, for when the medication hit, but you had about an hour so why not fiddle around? Idia never minded your little tactics so as long as it eased your worries, you were allowed to fiddle around with the equipment that was not in the tray. 

Somewhere along the lines you lost your sight of things, and you found yourself wandering, it wasn’t the first time.. However, this lab was new, Idia has recently swapped rooms, it was an odd change, however it was one of many you choose to ignore, after all what he did in his personal life was none of your business. Though personal and work clashed and became a blur long ago, you’ve maintained a fair line when it came to personal and work, something that proved to annoy Idia. 

You exited through the door and were currently walking through an unknown hall, which had no exits in sight, sort of like those backrooms that you saw from videos in the past.. It was weird and unsettling, an eerie feeling washed over you, you should have headed back.. but right then and there, you found a door.. It blends in with the walls well, an odd choice of aesthetic, even for Idia. Curiosity washed over you, and you just couldn’t resist the sheer urge to open the closed door, which was hidden for some cause.. you could only imagine what could be hiding behind the closed door… you still had some time.. more than enough time... right? 

You quickly checked surroundings for any security cameras, thankfully there were none.. another thing that piqued your curiosity all the bit more. You took a deep breath, when’s the next time you’ll get such a chance? You already knew the estate in and out… Slowly, you opened the door, ceasing into your curiosity. 

The room was dimly lit, tall large windows decorated the walls, being the only source of light.. They were closed with light translucent currents, which cascaded down the window.. They reminded you of something.. You couldn’t name it.. The room was spacious. You pushed the curtains to the side, fully brightening the room.. When looking outside of the window, they viewed a familiar, yet foreign scenery, it made you feel worried.. It was scary how this room seemed so familiar, yet foreign to you.. You choose to look around the surroundings, finding a covered board of some sorts, you decide to uncover it.. revealing.. Quite the sight, it was visual photographs with someone's internal parts, on full display.. As if they’ve been cut out.. Dates written on them.. Maybe you should’ve checked the dates, but you already felt the strong urge to vomit.. Slowly you covered the board back up, it was a terrifying sight, yet something about them kept you curious.. And you choose to continue your little venture. 

You found photos of a child? The child seemed familiar, and you continued to find more and more pictures, dates, filings, and more.. All with the name of Y/n L/n, you even found a journal, you flipped through its contents.. 

“They're coming to my school.. Hopefully I’ll be able to speak with them” 

“.....As planned, they’re now more than willing to help out with my projects, the medication worked!” 

As you read more and more, it hit you.. You weren’t a typical test rat, but this ‘Y/n L/n’ themselves, a university graduate Idia had kidnapped, after stalking you from childhood.. He had abducted you from who knows where, and manipulated your identity, into his own twisted fantasy.. even your memories, catching you in this sugar coated web of lies.. You weren’t here for three years, but six.. These experiments he conducted were used to keep you from escaping, ruining you slowly, so only he could ‘fix’ the wounds he’d create.

‘Were those organs yours’ 

“— where are you?, it’s almost been an hour and a half” his voice pierced through your ears, as you began to quiver in fear.. You had to escape.. somehow—.. but at this crucial time, your legs had given up on you, all you could do was quickly hide everything and try your best to put on an act, as you huddled in a corner, waiting for him to find you. 

You heard an audible “oh”, as the sound of his footsteps slowly followed, “Is this where my little lab rats been hiding?” he let out a small chuckle, as he opened the door, and then everything faded to black.. The last scene you could remember before the pills had taken its toll was Idia walking up to you, reaching out for you.

© cupids-chamber, do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation from me.

[summerlinenss]

Just to piggyback onto your post about the Time Bandits/Yi/Taika post, concerning Yi’s claims… I’d like to point out this is not the first time (or even second time) they have made similar accusations while working on a production. This goes as far back as to their days as a cast member on House. I don’t have any links, but Google should bring up their past comments. I don't like to assume *nothing* happened on any of those sets, but there's a pattern of behavior emerging that makes me take their claims of being a victim with an even bigger grain of salt. Or at least gives a skewed picture of what's happened.

re: this post

yeah i’ve talked about this with some other people and it really makes me question the validity of their claims. i think they’ve legitimately made allegations of abuse and/or discrimination against people from like more than half of the projects they’ve worked on.

as you said, i’m not suggesting that nothing they’ve alleged has ever been true, because i’d hate to think someone would even be capable of lying about those types of things. but this is a very clear pattern of behaviour. at the absolute least, i get the sense that they have a tendency to exaggerate to make their accusations sound worse than they actually are to garner sympathy.

i just have a really hard time believing (or at least understanding why) a grown adult with agency would willingly stay in the industry for decades if pretty much every single job that they’ve had has been traumatic for them in one way or another.

i recognize that they identify as neurodivergent and apparently had pre-existing trauma and mental health issues before even working on time bandits (which i won’t get into for obvious reasons). and i can fully empathize with how stressful and overwhelming it is to cope with normal day-to-day life as a fellow ND person, let alone how much worse it must be on a chaotic set. however, that is also your responsibility to learn how to handle and address your own needs and to inform your bosses/coworkers of the accommodations you’ll require, regardless of what field you’re in. not to expect them to bend over backwards for you and complain about neglect or abuse after the fact.

i could say a lot, but all in all, i just find it really suspicious. i wish i could take it in good faith and trust that they’ve genuinely had extremely shitty luck, but it all seems rooted in a severe martyr complex. and i just don’t feel comfortable taking their full word for anything that allegedly happened, especially when they keep changing their story just to make people (especially fellow minorities) look bad.

[rashomonss]

hi!! i've followed around since ch4 of a humans wrath and i am so proud of you for coming this far in your journey!!! your writing is so heart wrenching and it's so comforting in a way that it's such a good material to come to if i want a good cry!!!

so i've come forward to please request "You can't even look me in the eyes, can you?" with beel and it's like trauma of ch16 with them being twins and all.

it's fine if you don't accept it!! i just want to show my appreciation for your writing as it's rlly rlly good!!!

omg you’ve followed me for a good while, i feel so honored that you still enjoy my work!! ♡

I’m so glad you think that honestly, it just makes me so happy, I’m crying rn anon, if I knew who you were I’d follow you back rn bc you’re so sweet (╥﹏╥)

ily sm and I just want you to know I’m so thankful for your support, truly, I hope you continue to enjoy my work as well as a humans wrath! ( ˊᵕˋ )♡

also you meant lesson 16 in nightbringer right?? because i was a bit confused for a second, bc im a bit dumb, but anyways i did enjoy writing this quite a bit so i hope you do enjoy! (also I was being feeling nice so this one ended with comfort)

love ya! ♡

warnings: possible nightbringer lesson 16 spoilers

“please don’t blame yourself”

You had canceled the summoning spell in Lucifer’s office and thankfully the banshee was nowhere to be found. However the trouble didn’t end there, in fact it had only just begun.

Belphie rushed over to his twin and asked profusely if he was okay, due to him looking as if he was going to fall over from sheer stress.

Beel nodded and stayed silent as Satan explained to the rest of his brothers the two different circumstances in which you hear a banshee cry. This caused an uproar and Belphie began to question his brother with a concerned expression.

Beel answered every question his twin had, but not once did he dare to look at him. And as he finished the story of what had happened, he could feel Belphie’s eyes burn a hole in his head due to how much he was staring at him.

“So you’ve heard one cry before…you’ve never mentioned anything about that…” Belphie said, stepping closer to his twin.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to keep it from you, I don’t want you to be upset”

“Beel, you misunderstand! I’m not mad at you at all, none of this was your fau-“

“If I had known what that was then I could’ve told Lucifer and maybe we wouldn’t have lost Lilith…” Beel had said.

You heard the strain in his voice as he spoke to his twin, each word that left his mouth was laced with regret and guilt…but why was that? It wasn’t his fault.

“Beel it wasn’t your fault, you couldn’t have know-“ Belphie pleaded.

Beel cut his twin off mid sentence and raised his voice slightly. “But I should’ve. It’s all my fault Belphie, I could’ve prevented this.”

“No you couldn’t have!”

“Yes I could’ve! Maybe then we all wouldn’t be down here, maybe then we’d still be happily up in the Celestial Realm with Lilith. If I had known we all could’ve seen her smile again. She’d be here with us now, instead of facing a cruel death”

Beel’s voice echoed through Lucifer’s study as all his brothers looked at him with mixed reactions. None of them had ever heard him raise his voice in such a way, and it shocked most of them into silence, including his twin.

Asmo, Mammon, and Levi looked to you for assistance after his outburst, while Satan looked at Beel with an expression that held a mixture of hurt and resentment.

Belphie finally looked at Beel with a sad expression and furrowed his eyebrows slightly. “Beel, you need to understand that none of this was your fault. It was never your fault to begin with.”

“You don’t understand. I had the chance to change things but I didn’t. I didn’t come through for you when you needed me, now because of that all of you have to suffer because I never said anything. I caused this Belphie”

“Beel..” his twin said with such sorrow.

You’ve heard the twins talk about things and slightly argue with each other before, but they always end up getting over it or solving the situation before it gets worse. This time you're not so sure.

The dejected atmosphere that engulfed Lucifer’s study was so thick you began to feel suffocated. And you could tell you weren’t the only one; as the rest of the brothers watched the twins speak, each began to slowly back away towards you for reassurance.

“Ever since the night of the dinner party and what Lucifer said, I keep thinking about what happened…and I wish I could go back and change things, so that this never happened in the first place.”

“Beel..!”

“We wouldn’t have lost Lilith, Belphie…and you wouldn’t have had to suffer so much.”

“What do you mean..?” Belphie asked softly as he looked at his twin with an uneasy expression.

“I know you feel guilty because you survived and she didn’t…”

At this point Belphie stood there in silence as he looked at the ground for an answer, but nothing came to mind. This throat ran dry.

“Beel please look at me…” Belphie asked, stepping closer to his twin. He realized that during their whole conversation Beel hadn’t looked him in the eyes once.

Beel however took a few weary steps back as Belphie approached him. His gaze continued to be locked on the floor as he stood there silently avoiding his twin.

“Beel, please just look at me, that’s all I’m asking right now. Please.” Belphie pleaded.

Beel shook his head as his gaze reminded on the floor. You swore you could see tears begin form in his eyes.

You watched the youngest demon brother completely break down in front of you when his twin continued to ignore his pleads. You had never seen Belphie like that…ever. This was a new side of him you were now experiencing, but you can’t say you exactly like the broken expression he was currently wearing.

“You can’t even look me in the eyes can you?”

“I’m sorry Belphie…it should have been me, not Lilith-“

“Shut up! Don’t you dare say that again. Don’t you dare think that ever, you hear me, Lilith decided to fight that day because she wanted to, just like all of us. So don’t you ever give me that crap you hear!” Belphie screamed.

Beel’s eyes widened slightly and he finally looked up to see his twin with an upset expression as tears streamed down his face.

“Belphie-“

“Enough Beel…all that matters as of right now is that you’re here with all of us okay?”

After Belphie spoke, you then added to his statement and reassured the Avatar of Gluttony, as tears streamed down his face when you spoke to him softly.

The rest of his brothers, including Satan, assured him that what happened was meant to happen, and that all that matters right now in the “present” is that they all have each other. Belphie smiled and hugged Beel, claiming he wouldn’t trade anything in the world for him as Beel tightly hugged him back while a few stray tears fell down his cheeks.

Soon all of you joined the group hug and smiled happily as Beel wiped the tears from his eyes and thanked everyone.

[vileviale]

Miguel x Reader Fanfic! (Pt. 1 of 2)

I tried to incorporate the female gaze as much as I could while also trying to stay true to Miguel’s cold and moody personality. Hopefully, I still showed that the characters love each other, however. Idk. Lemme know what you think! I haven’t made a short story in YEARS, and I’ve certainly never made a fanfic before. Also, I interpreted the drug he injects himself with in ATSV as a depressant instead of a stimulant but looking back it’s probably the latter. Also I used they/them pronouns so anyone can read it. And no, I’m not telling you the plot bc ITS A SECRET

Tw: nothing explicit, just fluff I think is the word, but there is gore, blood, violence, mentions of death, and all that good stuff

Word count: like 2500-3000 I think?

You never liked it when Miguel was “at work”.

In your defense, it was impossible not to worry when you imagined him out in whatever universe, fighting something that could take his life at any moment. A few hours ago, you’d been sitting comfortably in your favorite chair, typing away at an email that was turning out to be quite complicated. But the clicking of your keys stopped when Miguel explained that Lila had discovered a Lizard variant in the wrong universe, and he needed to put it back in its own. Before he could leave, you grabbed his hand, so much larger compared to your own. It felt dry and rough as you held it.

You let out a sigh. “I know I can’t force you to stay here.”

“C’mon, are we doing this again? Don’t stress about it,” he persisted. “I’m gonna be fine.”

That wasn’t exactly the case. The nature of his work meant Miguel always came back with at least a few scrapes and bruises. But it was pointless to argue. His job was essential for keeping the multiverse together, and no amount of bickering could change that. 

“Just be safe out there, okay?”

 He rolled his eyes. “I’ve heard that far too many times.”

“You’re my boyfriend. It’s my job to worry about you.” You forced a small smile.

“Don’t. It’ll take two seconds, trust me,” he insisted, pecking your forehead and letting go of your hand. “I’m sorry, but I can’t stay any longer.” He tapped his dimension-jumping watch, and a portal of dizzying oranges and blues appeared. “See you as soon as I get back.”

“Love you!”, you called after him before he could step inside. He froze for a second, then turned and mumbled with a soft grin: “Love you too.” He still wasn’t used to people telling him that. 

You watched Miguel walk through the portal until it suddenly whirled out of existence. Turning your head back to your computer, you tried to finish the rest of your work, but your mind was blank and distant. It always was when he left.

Four hours had gone by since then. Four hours too long. That pesky email had been sent, and you had straightened up the house out of stress. Now you were back in your chair, fidgeting with your necklace and constantly checking the time on your watch. Each time you did, your heart seemed to twist into a tighter knot. Eventually, the tension was too great. You jumped up to grab your suit, but then just as quickly sat back down.

‘Grow up,’ you thought to yourself. ‘He’s a big boy; he can handle it himself. Besides, I’d probably get in the way.’ People had called you a strong fighter, even for a Spider-variant, but you knew yourself well enough that your constant protection of Miguel would only lengthen the fight. That was something that couldn’t be risked. The longer the variant was out of his universe, the greater chances of it breaking canon. Besides, if Miguel needed help, Lila could always call on Jess, Ben, or other Spiders. 

Almost as soon as you sat back down, Lila appeared above your watch. You interjected before she could speak.

“Is Miguel okay? Has he come back yet?”

She winced. “He’s back… but he isn’t looking too good. That’s why I’m calling you.”

You felt like the floor had been pulled from under you. “What? What’s wrong?”

“The variant was a lot stronger than he realized. I called Jess for backup, but by the time she came, it had already landed a few strikes. The Lizard’s contained now, but Miguel’s pretty scratched up.”

“What do you mean by ‘scratched up’? How hurt is he?”

“He has several gashes. They’re deep, but haven’t hurt anything vital. The main problem right now is blood loss. He fought injured for a while before we got the chance to put gauze on, and it shows. He told me not to tell anyone about this, especially you.” She rolled her eyes. “You know how he is.”

“Ugh, of course he did. Where is he right now?”

“We’re at his place; just me and him. He actually told Jess to leave after she helped him in. Guess I shouldn’t be surprised, though. I’m trying to convince him to ask for help so it looks better when I tell him I already did, buuuut it’s not working out too great.”

“Keep trying. I’ll be there as soon as I can.” You rushed to your room to grab your suit. “Did you call 911?”

“I told Jess to get Dr. Parker as she was leaving. I thought the ambulance lights would be too much on his eyes, especially in his condition, and I’ve seen Doc patch up worse in places far more hostile.”

“Still, I’d want him in a hospital, just to be safe. But thank you, Lila. If there are any updates on his health, let me know. I’ll see you soon.” She nodded and vanished.

You changed into your spider suit, activated your watch, and rushed through the portal to Nueva York. After passing through it, you jumped out swiftly, swinging as fast as you could from building to building. The Lobby felt more crowded than ever as you tried to weave your way between countless spider variants. When you got to his house, you found Miguel, back turned, sitting in the center of the floor and breathing heavily. One of his hands was holding red-stained gauze on his shoulder, the other on his leg. Blood ran down his arm until it dripped at the crook of his elbow. It was painful to see him this way. Just looking at the blood made your heart ache. 

As you moved closer, you heard Miguel and Lila’s raised voices. You closed the door behind you without a sound and eavesdropped into their conversation.

“For the last time Lila, I’m not calling anyone. I can stitch these myself.” Miguel grunted as he tried to stand up. But as soon as he put weight on his shoulder, he collapsed. “Later on.”

Lila crossed her arms. “Mhm, tell yourself that. And I know you’ve never picked up a needle and thread in your life. Just look- Oh!” Lila caught you out of the corner of her eye and turned to face you. “You got here quick.” Miguel spun around and faced you with a shocked expression, then quickly turned irritable again. “Lila!” he berated. He looked pale, and you could see the weariness in his eyes.

“Sorry, Mr. I-can-do-everything-myself. But I thought your partner might want to, y’know, check on you? Juuuust in case you die or something.”

Miguel looked down and furrowed his brows. “That’s not gonna happen. I’m fine; everything’s under control.” 

Lila threw her hands up and turned to you. “You see what I have to deal with?” 

You knelt down next to Miguel. “Honey, you’re hurt. Bad. Dr. Parker’s on his way, but I’d really like to see you in a hospital.”

“No. I just- I really need to be left alone right now.” Miguel glanced around agitatedly. His muscles were tense, and he breathed rapidly. You gave him a puzzled look. For a man who was stoic 24/7, this wasn’t normal behavior, even if he was hurt. “Please, just go,” he pleaded. “You’re gonna make things worse.”

“And just how would I make things worse? I don’t know who convinced you that ‘manning up’ is refusing help until you die, but I’m not leaving you like this.”

Your spidey senses suddenly tingled. You looked around, but there was no one besides Miguel, Lila, and you. Instinctively, you reached out and pulled Miguel close. “Something strange is- “

“GET AWAY FROM ME!”, he roared. You flipped backward, landing several feet away from Miguel in a crouched, defensive pose. He curled from you, baring his dagger-like fangs, and snarled. His irises glowed like embers, and his claws grated the ground. For a moment, the separation between human and animal was indistinctive. But just as suddenly as it became vague, his eyes darkened to a calmer shade of red, and his muscles loosened. Guilt washed over his face.“Oh my god I’m so sorry, I-I don’t know what came over me. Are you alright?”

“What the fuck was that?!” you yelled as you rose. There was a burning sensation on your arm, and you looked down. Beneath your suit’s torn sleeve were five gashes, shallow and nearly bloodless, but still painful. “I’m fine,” you snapped, turning your body to hide your arm. It wasn’t the only thing hurting. Inside, your heart raced with adrenaline, and you clutched your hands hard to keep them from trembling. ‘The last thing I want is Miguel to see me scared,’ you thought. ‘Two can play the I-have-no-feelings-but-rage game.’ 

 “How long’s it been since his last injection?”, you asked Lila, who had hidden on your shoulder.

“16.7 hours,” she grimaced. “I told him he should take it before we tried to capture the variant, but he refused. Usually I wouldn’t let him, but he had the audacity to shut me down. I figured out how to reboot later and woke up in the middle of him fighting. Somehow,” she sighed, “Lila finds a way.”

Miguel interjected. “That was-“ 

“I don’t wanna fucking hear it,” you interrupted before he could protest. He looked down and turned slightly red. Whether it was with anger or embarrassment was unclear. “Where’s the depressant?”, you demanded. 

“In my center drawer.” He pointed to his desk. “There should be several.”

You jumped over him and landed lightly in front of the desk. Pulling the drawer open, you immediately found the green vials rolling inside, along with the injection gun, and inserted the closest one into it. “Catch!”, you called as you tossed the gun towards Miguel. Right now, it was too risky to simply hand it to him. Miguel grabbed it mid-air and slammed it into his arm. He flinched, but quickly relaxed again, even more than before.

“It’s okay now.” His soft eyes, back to their normal shade of brown, beckoned you to come. “I’m okay now.”

You ran over and wrapped your arms around him, which was almost impossible to do given his size. Hot, angry tears silently ran down your face. Miguel melted into you as the raise and lowering of his chest started to slow. As you embraced, you noticed Lila standing on the floor, mouthing “You good?” silently to you. She gave a thumbs up, thumbs sideways, and a thumbs down, indicating you to choose one. You gave her a thumbs sideways back. She nodded. “Imma go in ‘sleep mode’,” she whispered. “I’ll still keep an eye on Miguel’s vitals, but I’ll essentially be ‘gone’. It’ll give you guys some time to talk.”

“Thank you,” you whispered back. Lila smiled, raised a peace sign, and disappeared.

“I’m so sorry,” Miguel breathed as you let go of him. “I wasn’t myself; I would never intentionally hurt you.” He looked up at your reddened eyes, and his face suddenly grew full of concern. “Querida, por favor no llores.” He gently, like a moth’s wing, wiped the tears from your cheeks with the back of his hand.

“I don’t know why I’m crying,” you confessed with a small, wavering laugh. “I guess I just got startled. I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“You shouldn’t have. Listen: you have every reason to be upset right now.” He lifted your chin with his thumb. “I know I just told you not to cry, but if you need to, go ahead.”

You looked at the ground and smiled, tears flowing freely down your cheeks. “Ok. Thank you,” your stammered. You took a moment to slow your breathing. “Can you- explain what just happened? If you can.”

“I don’t want to make any excuses, but if it will make you feel better, I’ll try.” His eyes searched the ground. “When I got injured, I couldn’t tell the drug was wearing off, though looking back it couldn’t be more obvious. I felt so- afraid. And vulnerable even. I don’t know why, but I had this idea in my head that everyone was trying to hurt me. And when you grabbed me, my first instinct was to protect myself.” He finally looked up and into your eyes.  “The worst part was I didn’t see you as… you. I just saw a threat.”

“Miguel, it’s really okay, trust me,” you persisted. “But… promise me to never lose control like that again. Not just for me, but for everyone’s sake.”

“Of course, love. I promise. I should’ve listened to Lila and taken the drug much earlier.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He paused. “I didn’t want it to lessen my strength before I captured the variant. I wanted to be as prepared as possible. Not that it helped anyway,” he complained, looking at his hurt leg. “I thought I had enough time to inject the serum afterward, but capturing the variant was... rough, and I came back much later than I anticipated.” He looked down, and his eyes suddenly grew wide. “Your arm! Did I- Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” you persisted. “It’s barely even bleeding anymore, see? It’s high time I designed a better suit anyways.”

“Are you sure? I’m so sorry I- “

“Shuuuush”, you hushed him. “It’s nothing. I don’t want you to worry about what happened anymore, okay?”

“You’re my partner. It’s my job to worry about you.” He gave a weak smile.

You laughed. “Touché. But really, you barely broke skin. The suit did most of its job.” 

“Ok. I just- I wanna make sure it’s 100 percent fine.”

“I’m sure, I’m sure.”

“Alright.”

You thought hard for a moment. “If we could find a way to separate the depressant’s physical effects from its mental ones, we could change their concentrations to keep your strength, but save your mind.”

“That could work,” Miguel replied. He furrowed his brows in thought. “Or we could add another mental depressant to it. That would be much easier than separating its components.” He slapped his forehead. “Should’ve thought of that ages ago. It’s gonna take a minute to find the right neural inhibitor, but it’s worth the trouble.” You gave him a look. “What?”, he asked.

“Sometimes I forget that you’re a nerd too,” you laughed. “Big guys like you aren’t supposed to know what ‘neural inhibitor’ means.”

“So I’m supposed to be an idiot then?”

You shrugged. “It’d suit you better.”

“Y’know, I really needed that. Thanks,” he sneered lightheartedly. “You should be thankful that my heads a little fuzzy, otherwise I would’ve come up with an incredibly brutal comeback.”

“Riiight, right. Wait. How fuzzy are we talking?”

[thegettingbyp2]

Brandom flowers x british actress reader making her west end debut. ( totally not self projecting because I'm making mine next year. Ahhh)

A Bit Different to the Stadiums

Buy me a coffee :)

The heat of the spotlight bathed you in a warm glow as you stood centre stage to take your bow. You’d just finished your first performance in the role of Veronica Sawyer in the West End production of Heathers; your first performance in that role and your first performance in the West End, it had taken you a while to get there but you’d finally done it and the sound of the applause just helped to remind you.

For the first time all night, you looked down to the front row, finally letting your grin spread across your lips as you saw your boyfriend, Brandon, on his feet, clapping harder than anyone else in the theatre. You still couldn’t quite believe that you were dating him, that he would choose someone who lived halfway across the world, but the two of you somehow make it work. At the moment, it’s mainly been Brandon travelling to London to visit you, your rehearsal schedule giving no room for you to fly away for a few days.

However, when you told him the date of your opening night, you couldn’t help the rush of disappointment flood through you when he told you that he wasn’t going to be able to make it and he’d have to catch the show a couple of weeks later due to The Killers recording their new album. Your voice almost caught in your throat when you came running onstage and saw him sitting on the end of the front row and now you couldn’t wait to get changed and go and meet him outside.

The second you walked out of stage door, you were wrapped up in his arms, your arms coming up to wrap around his neck, burying your head in his shoulder and breathing in the scent of his aftershave.

‘You said you couldn’t make it!’ you exclaimed when you pulled away to look at him.

‘You think I’d miss this? There was nothing that was going to be able to keep me away,’ he replied, smiling down at you and tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, his hand coming up to cup your cheek in his palm, leaning down to press a gentle kiss to your lips. ‘You were incredible,’ he spoke against your lips, a warm thrill running through your body.

‘Thank you,’ you beamed up at him. ‘But what about the album, you said that,’

‘The album can wait,’ he cut in, chuckling lightly when he could sense that you were about to go off on a tangent, overwhelmed from the excitement of your opening night and the surprise of Brandon showing up.

You felt your shoulders relax at his words, deciding to let yourself be in the moment with him as you slipped your hand into his as the two of you turned to walk up the street towards the nearest coffee shop. ‘So, what did you think?’ you asked, leaning your head on his arm as you walked.

‘It was great! You were great, the show was great. The theatre was absolutely beautiful,’ he said, making you laugh lightly when you heard the light-hearted tone of his voice, something that you’d missed the past few times you’d face-timed him, him being stressed with trying to get the new album right.

‘A bit smaller than the stadiums you’re used to?’ you asked teasingly, resting your chin on his arm as you looked up at him.

‘A bit different to the stadiums, but a lot more beautiful,’ he replied, kissing the top of your head. ‘Now, let’s go get a coffee and head home so we can celebrate you.’

[kyarbrougharts245-02]

Project 2/ Blog 4

As we progress in the course, I find that I’m slowly starting to comprehend just how labor-intensive Type is, especially in its early stages. The reading gave a bit of insight into that bit of history. For example, the book mentions that early text had to be made from metal or wood, even the construction of spaces required a “physical body” as the book defines it.

It makes me feel a little bit better about my projects. While I find cutting to be annoying and measuring accurate alignments manually to be ever so time-consuming, I can’t fathom how much stress I’d be going through if I had to situate each individual letter used on top of my current process. My weekdays would be filled with more all-nighters than I’ve ever experienced.

I can see how our hands-on assignments are encouraging discipline, and overall, I think doing this work leads me to respect my predecessors even more. They probably have seen more all-nighters than anyone in recent years. 

This week’s reading was a little more interesting to me, visually. I like how certain quotes mentioned are aligned in a way that doesn’t conform to the original grid. By pushing the quotes into the margins, the significance of the quote is all the more enhanced—which I get is likely the point, however, I feel it is worth mentioning. I also like the formatting seen in the example on page 66. I had to double-take initially and forced myself to more carefully analyze the body in an attempt to find what was wrong. I think the effect it has is trippy, but aside from being cool, I can’t see myself reading a book till the end if it had a similar formatting. 

I think I struggle with reading as it is now, sometimes I find myself skipping lines or needing to reread a line as I read the text but I didn’t “digest” it.  It’s a little setback but it only shows itself when I read history or a Biology textbook. In other words, if it’s not fantasy, I have no interest. So unless the book had a groundbreaking, mind-shattering storyline, I don’t think I’ll read a book with unorganized spacing.

Additionally, I found many quotes that piqued my interest. To keep it short, I’ll list two by Jacques Derrida (1976) and Jakob Neilson (2000) respectively:

“That a speech can supposedly alive can lend itself to spacing in its own writing is what relates to its own death.”  (67, Lupton)

“Web users don’t like to read…They want to keep moving and clicking.” (75, Lepton)

For my projects, we’ve just finished our second assignment, Gray Readings. I liked this a little more than the Nine Square project. Mostly because it didn’t involve constantly recutting a color outline of a man. I think I most enjoyed simply piecing the text cut from magazines onto the paper and seeing what worked.

My idea for the project was to treat the project like an actual InDesign template, and that meant making the three squares more polished in alignment. It was a great surprise to find that measuring and aligning would not be as pleasant as indulging in pretty fonts. And surprise surprise, it took forever.

I wanted to make sure I got as organized as possible with each square so they could closely resemble a digital counterpart. In my original 8x8, I had the top/bottom margins approximately 1 inch in size and 0.5 inches for the sides. Then I added two little boxes where the intent was for them to be the pages one would see in InDesign. I can’t remember the exact final measurements—I remember making some last-minute changes and having to slide some measurements up a bit but the boxes were each about 3.25 inches wide with a 0.5-inch margin between them (if I’m not mistaken). Allow me some grace, I was up till 4:30 am working on them. 

As time-consuming as the project was, I was pleased with the process. Seeing different fonts slowly unify and shape into something more appealing was the dopamine I desperately needed for the night. I think my favorite was the modular grid, but the experimental grid would be a close second. However, I do believe the fonts I found played a larger role in my favoritism. The title text for “Monsters” and the bold lettering I was able to find (seen in the bottom left) for the grid seemingly complement one another nicely.

However, I’ll admit, by the end I was a little worried I had done the project wrong. I noticed my designs were much more simplified than my peers and no one else seemed to take the InDesign Format approach. Luckily, my fears proved to be simple nothing burgers and I could breathe easy by the end of class, the deadline for the assignment.

Minus a few smudges from the glue and rubber cement, I really liked the end results of my assignments. I could even see myself doing more personal projects similar to this one.

[realsorien]

Right now, it is Wednesday morning at work, just after midnight on May 3rd. I’m writing this now, has I’ve done in the past, because I don’t know what state I’ll be in if and when I make the decision.

             Back in March of 2008, I lost Luna. It was a devastating loss. Those words don’t even come close to what I felt then. Though is was probably too soon, in May, on my birthday, my friends took me to the Golden Valley Humane Society, where I’d originally gotten her, to ‘window shop’ as it were. I’d decided to get two cats, as I’d heard that it was better for them psychologically, but that day I wasn’t actually expecting to get new pets.

             While there, I nearly broke down several times- remembering. But I looked, and saw a kitten in a small boxlike case, by himself. He was very tiny, and I wasn’t wanting to deal with a kitten, nor did I want a male cat- more health problems, etcetera.

             But then, he locked eyes with me and said ‘mew!’ And it was all over.

             The second cat was Lady. She passed away in 2018, at 18 years of age. I got her when she was 8. Spaz was all of 10 weeks old- he and his siblings had been put in a box and tossed out the window of a car. So that’s how I got Spaz and Lady.

             Now… Spaz has been having health problems. He had stage one kidney failure for about two years. When I took him in to the vet in February, I found out that it’d advanced to stage 4. That is a termainal diagnosis, with only palliative care to extend life. I thought I was going to lose him in days, but he rallied, and he continued being mostly his old self.

             Monday the first I took him in for his yearly shots, senior assay and other tests… And his numbers had worsened. As in doubled-worsened. To complicate things, the vet had me give him gabapentin as a relaxant, so that he’d not be so stressed at the visit.

             The visit went fine, but the next day, Tuesday, he was still almost unable to walk, not eating significantly and weak. I called the vet and described what was happening, and that’s when I found out how things had progressed. His lassitude and weakness were due to his kidneys essentially being completely gone, and he couldn’t clear the drug out of his system.

             I decided to see how he was in the evening, as he’d eaten a bit, and drank some water. However… There was no real change. He was slightly more active, but not by much. I held him in my arms and he was basically limp. When not being held, he either hid in his carrier, or just sat, staring at it.

             Now I have a decision to make. If he’s better in the morning, I can put it off a while, but… The end is near. I don’t want him to suffer. I don’t want to put him through what would be required to keep him going, especially since it would add to his misery.

             I don’t want to say goodbye, but in all odds, I will be. Either in the morning, or very soon. I love you Spaz. I’ve had you for fourteen years, and you’ve been a wonderful friend. I will do what I truly hope is best for you, and I hope you can forgive me.

[exclusivenycsituation]

This is for @as-mod-eus-a because i am blocked on all platforms including discord so despite professing a deep need for their server back, i have no means to contact them. You don’t allow messages on your blog from people you do not follow. And we won’t be unblocking them from the main due to the anons we have been receiving from them, hence making this new blog so as to not have to change that. This is from admin Indi - and read by admin Ivy (who has never gone by the alias roses, just to clarify, that was Mat’s previous alias despite them attempting to tarnish Ivy’s reputation by stating it was hers - which is deformation of character) to assess if i was being unreasonable or untrue in any of my statements

I haven’t read or answered any of your messages until today because the way you turned viciously on us as an admin team and it was incredibly unsettling. I have bad anxiety and your barrage of insults and blasts only made that worse. I thought we were friends too but it turns out I need to be more careful with who I trust because some will happily throw you under a bus the second something doesn’t go their way. MNYC is no longer in any way associated with ENYC. The members are aware of that and have stayed of their own choice. We have now changed the entire main (the wording on the front page has now been changed, it was an oversight to not have it changed with the original rewording - and for that we apologise) , wording, graphics, email connected to the account, everything. It no longer belongs to you in any way.

I’m addition nothing that has leaked about your behaviour is untrue. You attempted (and succeeded) to hack the discord server several times - distressing members and admins alike. So we made a new one and the old one was terminated so you could no longer attack us through it - I did however save the template as i suspected this would happen so if you unblock me on discord I’d be happy to send it through.

I apologise if you feel that we stole your property - that was none of our intentions, rather to keep the group going when you left as people were very happy there. You offered to return as admin, if we wanted, and only turned nasty when you were told we were fine with just three admins. When posed as a question it is up for the other person to reject if they wish - as we did. As was our right. I’m sorry if that wasn’t the answer you wanted.

As someone who has been the subject of several PSAs you know how distressing they are but you still chose to inflict that on us and blackmail us after incredibly minimal time to edit our main considering the three of us have lives outside of rp. 

Even though you had given me full permission to use your content earlier as we renamed the group - and you were fine with us using everything then. 

We had actually been in the process of developing a whole new main for well over a week before your message, but that is by the by at this point. If the PSA was what you needed to do to feel like you’d had your voice heard then I hope it worked.

Additionally ‘trauma dumping’ - which is what you said to me in the DM - is not a term someone who ever considered someone a true friend would use to describe them sharing past distress. I am keen to put an end to this situation as roleplay is my escape from real life stress, not a catalyst for it.

We have now done everything you asked - we blocked you from the main as you were sending nasty anonymous messages to us. Unblock on discord so i can send you through the server link and then please leave the group alone.

[imagining-in-the-margins]

Relief in Regrets (S.R.)

Summary: Spencer turns to his ex-girlfriend in a time of need. Request: early season 12, when Reid’s stressed about his mom, he seeks comfort in his ex-girlfriend, and they end up sleeping together. Couple: Spencer Reid/Fem!Reader Category: Smut (NSFW, 18+) Content Warning: Exes, slightly toxic dynamic, heavy kissing, oral sex (male receiving), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, crying after sex (Spencer), aftercare included, ambiguous/poignant ending Word Count: 8k

MASTERLIST

I swore off coffee the day Spencer Reid and I broke up. While my friends insisted that I was being dramatic, I’d never felt that way. If they’d ever spent more than an hour with the man, they would understand why it was necessary.

They would come to realize, as I had, that there was no divorcing coffee from his memory. The smell soaked into everything the same as his touch radiated warmth. Each droplet in the pot sounded like a sleepy yawn as he struggled to stay awake for just an hour longer because he hadn’t seen me in so long.

Each abandoned half-full, half-empty mug served as a reminder to how he would fall asleep on my chest moments later. Or worse, a cup abandoned by his departure. Again.

It was almost Pavlovian how badly I craved it; how its absence was almost painful. But its presence hurt all the same, because the second I’d smelled the bitter grounds, all I could think about was him and how he wasn’t there anymore.

So, I had promised myself that I wouldn’t drink coffee anymore.

It hadn’t lasted very long, but there had been a sincere effort for about forty-eight hours. I returned to coffee quickly, but I’d at least managed to avoid a few particular cafes. While I could handle tasting coffee, I wasn’t sure I could handle seeing him.

But when his name appeared on my caller ID, I didn't hesitate to answer. I’d figured that I’d already proven I wasn’t able to swear off one vice, so what was another? I’d agreed to meet with him for a cup of coffee on the condition that it would only be the one. We both pretended like either of us believed that.

Of course, things like that always seem better in theory. Everything changes when you’re actually faced with the reality of the situation. When you’re standing outside the window of his favorite cafe, staring at him through the glass.

I knew I shouldn’t have come. The memories rushed back before I’d even opened the door to be met with the smell of freshly brewed coffee. The memory of him outlining olfactory memory and the pesky Proust effect was but the first of many.

The bell hung on the back of the door rang to announce my arrival. Spencer was quick to rise, and I suspected that he’d done the same each time he heard the door open. It was obvious in his expression that some small (or overwhelmingly large) part of him had been convinced I wouldn’t show.

But there I was, fast approaching a table with my order already set in front of my chair.

Of course he remembered. Of course he knew I wouldn’t have changed it.

Even when I sat, he didn’t say a word.

“Hey, stranger,” I offered with a smile I’d hoped would sell the lie that I didn’t miss him.

“Hey,” he muttered back with a similar sentiment, “you look great.”

The bitterness won out in the end. I hadn’t even realized the insult until it stumbled over my tongue.

“You look... tired.”

He took it in stride, however. I suspect he’d been expecting the hostility. He was clever, after all.

“So, the same as usual, then?” he said with a self-effacing chuckle.

It had only been thirty seconds, but I could already feel myself falling for his facade all over again. It had only taken a few words, a little bit of beautiful nonsense for me to forget the nights I’d spent crying over him.

The bittersweetness of remembering him coated my mouth with a scorching heat. I almost welcomed it, too. I welcomed any reminder of how much it hurt to be left behind. I let that anger rise and come out with another insult, however playful.

“What’s keeping you up this time? Is this a post-mortem or a rebound?”

“Wow,” he said with a hissing breath and a smile through the grimace, “you make me sound like such an asshole.”

Then, with just a second of self-reflection, he conceded, “I guess I deserve that.”

“Yup,” I agreed as simply as I could.

The silence that followed wasn’t as enjoyable as I’d thought it would be, though. I had fantasized so many times about the things I would tell him. I ranted to myself in the shower more times than I could count — each time explaining to him in graphic detail how it wasn’t only my fault everything had fallen apart. That he had been the one who decided his priorities, and that it wasn’t my fault if I wasn’t one of them.

I had everything planned out, every insult scripted and memorized. But in that moment filled with a palpable tension, I couldn’t find anything about him that I hated. In fact, the emotion that was dominating the rest was… pity.

Because he looked so pitiful. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper and darker than I remembered. The strong angles of his face were more pronounced, a stark display of weight lost from the crushing stress that he was clearly under.

I hadn’t expected it to feel like this. I hadn’t been ready for it to feel like this. But there I was, with a trembling hand as I sipped burning hot coffee.

There I was, forgiving him before he’d ever even said he was sorry.

“I was a little surprised you still had my number in your phone,” I said in an attempt to force myself out of his spell. I forced myself to remember the depth of my own hurt.

And it worked.

Because he winced before he admitted, “I… didn’t.”

Of course he didn’t. He didn’t need to have it programmed to remember it.

“Ah. Yeah, that makes sense,” I whispered.

That time, it was him who broke the awkward silence. With a little bit of humility and that same, pathetic half-laugh.

“I kind of feel even worse about my real reason now.”

“What could be worse than what’s happened so far?” I joked, only to immediately regret it.

There was no humor left in his voice. There was no sign of laughter or playfulness. There wasn’t even that manipulative, wide-eyed innocence about him.

“It’s... my mom,” he admitted with a voice so strained you’d think the words were made of knives. Even just uttering the last two words brought tears to his eyes. He’d tried to hide behind his hands, but he must have found the darkness too terrifying to bear, because he dropped them almost immediately.

I watched as the tears dried through sheer willpower. I watched the steely facade cover him like a sheet until he was a man I hardly recognized. His jaw was clenched tightly enough that I could hear the menacing sound of bone on bone.

“Oh,” I offered to stop the sound, “Is… Is she alright?”

He didn’t hesitate before he answered, “No, not really.”

Suddenly, all the reasons I’d had to be angry vanished. It had only taken one errant tear, one small droplet that Spencer had failed to catch.

In that moment, I’d wanted nothing more than to hold him, all the others in the cafe be damned. I could feel the pain as it rolled off him wave after relentless wave. The self-loathing hit me with the full, unforgiving force of the ocean and left me gasping for air in its wake.

I could see it, then. All the pain, all the pressure that he carried on skeletal shoulders that were starting to shake.

“Can I do anything to help?” I begged the man who’d broken my heart.

The same man who couldn’t even look me in the eyes when he whispered, “C-Could I... do you think I could just talk to you about it?”

And even though I knew it would hurt the both of us, I took his hand in mine. I squeezed his fingers until I felt the life return to them. I waited until we were both holding on for dear life. Then, when his eyes slowly, cautiously raised to meet mine again, I offered him the only reprieve I could in a world that had only ever been cruel to him.

“Of course you can, Spencer.”

For the next hour, I witnessed the strength that was Spencer Reid. My own heart took the backseat, watching with eyes unclouded by hatred. I listened as closely as I could, taking the pain into my hands brick by brick until his words didn’t have to be forced through clenched teeth.

Spencer confessed to every perceived inadequacy, each failure to do what we’d both known was impossible, anyway. He told me everything. He divulged secrets and memories that I was convinced he’d never spoken aloud before.

In his eyes, I saw so much of the man I’d fallen in love with. I saw that pure, excitable boy who was begging for someone to see him. Just once.

Our hands stayed together while he fell apart without shame. The rest of the world moved around us at a different pace. We’d convinced ourselves that, at least for now, there was nothing but the two of us. Nothing but two joined hands and locked eyes that wouldn’t judge our inability to solve it all.

In the end, Spencer was the one to remove his hand from mine. We’d stayed together until the sun peeked from behind storm clouds and burned his skin. But his hand remained in a fist as he pressed it against tired eyes that would have to wait at least a few more hours for sleep.

“I’m so sorry, Spencer,” I offered as an apology for the merciless nature of the universe. “I wish I could help you more, but... I don’t know what to say.”

But the ever-humble Spencer just shook his head. His hands dropped to his lap to wring together in private, to hide his anxieties from the world like he always had.

“No, don’t be sorry. I’m sorry to just drop it all on you like this.”

“I’d rather that, than you handle it all by yourself,” I assured him.

He didn’t believe me, though. His skepticism was as clear as his quivering lip. They both hurt me more than I’d ever imagined they could. That was the only excuse I had for reaching out to him. I’d so desperately wanted to offer him the tenderness that he deserved. The gentleness that I knew he so badly needed.

The second that my palm touched scratchy stubble, his breath came out in a short, shaky exhale. His eyes widened like he had been expecting pain. He shivered like he was waiting for a biting wind that never came.

“I loved you, Spencer,” I whispered with the most warmth I could muster. Then, with my heart wrenching in my chest and my vocal cords straining against the truth, I clarified, “A lot of me still loves you. I hope you believe that.”

The tension from his jaw left all at once. The weight against my hand increased the more he gave into the temptation to let himself be held gently, even though he knew it wouldn’t, and couldn’t, last.

I saw words making their way through his throat, but they never made it. Instead, that transcendental realm around us was shattered by the sound of his obligations.

Spencer glanced down at his phone before he pulled away from me entirely.

“I-I have to go. There’s a caretaker I have an interview with and—"

He could barely look at me, like he’d suddenly become aware of the embarrassing state of his request to see me.He gathered his things so quickly that I was only barely able to catch his empty coffee cup before it tumbled to the ground.

He paused when his eyes landed on me again. He saw the upset in my eyes, the fear in my expression, as I watched him prepare to rush back into the world that was going to eat him alive.

“Spencer…” I warned, I tried to convince him to stay.

But he cut me off swiftly and with enough finality for me not to question him any further.

“Thank you,” he said firmly, “For meeting with me. And listening to me and just... everything.”

“Of course.”

It would have been so easy to let him leave like that. I had no doubt that he wouldn’t look back if I didn’t make him. He would find another way than to bother me again. I had every justification to let him go.

But I couldn’t.

“Spencer?”

He froze in place. His feet settled into the space, and he turned back to me until I saw it again — that anticipation for something horrible. The inability to see anything other than a threat.

“If you need anything, please call me,” I offered in place of anger.

He didn’t know how to handle it. Who could blame him for that?

When I arrived, I promised myself that I wouldn’t let him trick me. I wouldn’t fall for those innocent sunshine eyes and beautiful words. But when I saw him fidget and shake in response to kindness, I realized that there was nothing he’d done to make me feel the way I did.

It wasn’t his fault that I’d loved him. He was just one man, begging someone to tell him that it was going to be okay.

So, I did.

“I know that it probably doesn’t feel like it right now, but you aren’t alone.”

And for the first time that day, I saw him accept the softness.

“Thank you,” he said.

I still love you was what I heard.

I still love you, too was what I should have said.

I didn’t hear from Spencer again that day, or in the several days that followed. It wasn’t unexpected. He wasn’t exactly the best when it came to difficult emotions. His vulnerability was a privilege that wouldn’t go unpunished. I expected no less than for him to run away and never look back. Lord knew he’d done it before.

But this time was different from the last. This time, I didn’t blame myself for falling victim to his whim. There was something about him that had changed, and it didn’t seem to be for the better. There was a lifelessness about him, a hollowness about him. I found myself wondering how long he’d spent listening to his own echoes, and how it must have felt to hear my voice there, instead.

I didn’t hear from Spencer again; not until he showed up at my door.

I couldn’t tell you what time was on the clock, but I could tell you that the steady beat of the rain on my window warned me of the storm standing on my porch. I could tell you that the air felt colder, like the dread was his companion or captor that he just couldn’t shake.

When I opened my door, the two of us just stared at each other for long enough that the lightning and thunder joined us. For a moment, I was forced to wonder whether it was all a dream. The vision was so perfectly poetic that I chastised myself for idealizing a broken man.

“Spencer?”

He didn’t reply with words. Instead, his head raised slowly until his eyes found mine. Fiery topaz filled with its own form of lightning struck me to my core. I took a step back on instinct and was surprised to see that he followed. Each movement I made was mirrored like we were nothing but marionettes playing through someone else’s script.

We followed each other until we were both inside with the door closed behind him. It was only then that I heard his heavy breath. I watched as raindrops dripped from damp hair and I found myself about to ask how long he’d been outside trying to convince himself that he would be allowed to come in.

But each time I opened my mouth to talk, my throat would close in on itself. My hands were burning to reach forward to touch him. I wanted to brush away the rain and leave warmth in my wake. I didn’t touch him, though. Instead, I asked him a question that seemed to come as a shock to his senses.

“Are you alright?”

Spencer considered his answer for a few too many seconds. Just long enough for him to find the truth that he had only barely come to accept.

“No.”

“D-Do you want to talk?” I offered.

His answer was much quicker then.

“No, I don’t want to talk.”

Before I could ask another question, Spencer silenced me the only way he knew how. He’d closed the distance between us so quickly that I stumbled back just as he caught me. One hand pressed lightly on my lower back while the other cradled the back of my head with a painful tenderness.

His lips were the last part of him I felt touch me, but once I felt them, they were all that mattered. The roughness of cold, chapped lips still felt like fire. He’d tasted as sweet as I remembered him to be when he was mine. His grip was still clumsy but firm as he tried to find something within me to steady himself.

Even after all this time, I was his only anchor among the raging waves.

But my lips alone weren’t enough. I could feel him searching for something lost somewhere in my skin. Impossibly soft hands slid under my shirt, and I didn’t try to stop them. I gasped at the contact, and he took the opportunity to come closer. Our tongues slid against one another with a familiar fondness until there was no more telling them apart.

We stumbled together through the darkness, guided by a flawless memory that had lived through this so many times before. But Spencer didn’t lead us into the bedroom. He stopped right before the doorway, taking one last sharp turn before slamming my back against the wall, instead.

I missed him the moment his lips left mine, but I said nothing. I didn’t beg him to come back; I didn’t root my hands in his hair and try to convince him to stay. We both just stared at each other in silence. The rain was still relentless in its begging to be let inside, but we drowned out that sound with more heavy breath and the sound of hard-beating hearts.

Spencer looked down at my disheveled clothing that he’d already started to pull off me. I looked down at his, the vestiges of power that he had such a hard time allowing himself to wear. But our clothing betrayed the truth.

I was not the wreckage. He was.

And it was beautiful in the worst way. I hated myself for thinking it, but I did. I tried to remind myself that his vulnerability was a privilege that wouldn’t go unpunished, but I didn’t care.

Because as soon as he asked, “Do you want this?”

I was already answering, “Yes.”

I was already betraying my promise and begging him to come closer, to stay, to find home in my arms and not let himself leave this time.

Spencer turned his face away seconds after our lips touched again. The sting of his stubble against my lips was nothing compared to that sinking feeling that I wouldn’t be enough this time. But then he turned to me again with that look in his eyes that made me feel like he saw something worth staying for.

“Let me have you,” he begged. His voice was hoarse, and each word was muttered like a curse, and I found myself falling for every mistake.

His hands abandoned their positions to rest against my face. His thumbs brushed over my cheeks like he could see tears that hadn’t yet fallen. I felt him memorizing me and I wondered how long it had taken to forget me in the first place.

I remembered him in a way that he would never understand. I did it because I wanted to.

The next time he spoke, he did so through clenched teeth.

“I want to have control over one fucking thing in my life,” he seethed.

There was no denying the visceral need behind the words. Even at our most unhinged, I’d never heard Spencer speak in that register. Everything about him was darker and more broken than I’d remembered. But the man I loved was still there, scratching at the surface and my skin, fighting to crawl out from the darkness.

I had to let him try. I did it because I wanted to, and so did he.

“You have me,” I said, confirming what we already knew, “I’m yours.”

His pupils dilated in the dark and swallowed the only warmth left in his eyes. I witnessed the transformation into the version of the man I knew all too well; the one with a wicked grin that commanded legions of butterflies in my stomach.

Spencer let his lips hover centimeters from mine. He dangled that intimacy I craved just out of my reach and waited for me to beg for it. I knew what he’d wanted me to do, and I wanted nothing more than to please him, so I did.

But just as our lips touched, soft, gentle, and filled with an innocent sort of longing, he whispered, “Get on your knees, sweetheart.”

My legs, although unpracticed and unsteady, still knew to follow his orders. I began to lower with my back against the wall until he offered his hand, instead. I held the tips of his fingers lightly, too afraid to shatter the moment before it had even begun.

With my throat bared, I stayed looking at him from my position on the cold hardwood. He withdrew his hands to place one against the wall and the other smoothed over the top of my head.

“Good girl,” he called, sparking new life in a part of me I’d tried to snuff out so many times. “You know what to do.”

I could feel my heart beating erratically while my hands worked to remove his pants. Everything was operating on muscle memory alone, and my mind, too, was stuck in the past too much to enjoy the present. I was chasing the ghost of the man standing in front of me. Maybe that was why the flesh and blood felt so scorching.

Spencer groaned in relief when I pulled his erection free from the restraint of formal clothing. He threw his head back when I brought the tip to my lips, and I found myself working harder to command his attention on me once more. I flattened my tongue against the base of him and took my time worshiping each inch before slowly closing my lips around him.

It was then that his eyes returned, along with his hand resting atop my head. He gripped a fistful of my hair and he tugged me forward until he found resistance. It was in that struggle, in the sound of my gentle choking, that he found the relief he was seeking.

“It’s okay,” he assured me, releasing me just enough that he could feel the cool burst of breath against his heated skin once more. After a brief reprieve, he started to drag my mouth over him again. He was slower that time, watching with rapt fascination as he disappeared inside of me.

“I know it’s a lot,” he said. Not to stroke his own ego, but to recognize my struggle. Nonetheless, he smiled when he continued, “But you’re doing so good.”

I clung to that praise the same as I dug my nails into the fabric of his slacks still stretched over his thighs. I held myself steady on him the same he was doing to me, and I tried twice as hard to give him a reason not to leave again.

The noises were loud and lewd, the chime of a loose belt buckle like a metronome to the rest. The humid air held his moans and my stifled whimpers past their welcome until I was drunk on the chaos.

We reveled in the uniqueness of the moment. We let go, if only for a moment, of the belief that we weren’t meant to be, and we were, anyway.

Spencer’s grip grew tenuous instead of tighter. He loosened his fist until he could demonstrate the softness again. While ensuring there was no pain to be found, he pulled me off him. Still slowly, his eyes followed the string of spit that snapped back against my chin with something resembling jealousy. Like he’d wished he could come so close to me.

“You look so pretty like this…” he praised breathlessly, “but I want more than your mouth.”

I resisted the urge to analyze the look in his eyes when he’d said it. I tried to convince myself that he had only meant that he wanted to use other parts of my body. But in my heart, I knew what he wanted.

I want you, but not in the physical way.

I want you the way I had you before.

I stayed on my knees while he tucked himself back into pants. I stayed where he left me until he gave me the order to move.

It came in the form of an outstretched hand.

Cautiously, I placed my hand in his and let him help me back to my feet. He held me there, too, supporting my weight until I was steady enough to move into the room. He kept his eyes on me, glancing away only for a few seconds each time to ensure we’d make it safely to the bed.

Spencer nodded in the direction he wanted me, and I followed. He continued watching me as I took a seat on the bed. I couldn’t tell why at first, but it began making sense when he ran a comforting hand over my thigh.

“Don’t be so nervous,” he said quietly, all the while helping to drag soft fabric down my legs. When my bottoms dropped to the floor, he took a step back and stared at my trembling figure.

My nerves didn’t know to follow his orders yet, but he was patient. That time, he brushed his knuckles down my jaw and he spoke more fondly.

“You have nothing to be afraid of. You’re beautiful.”

And just like that, the tension started to disappear. I shed the anxiety more with each layer until I was almost bare. Still, I held my bra against my chest, and took in a shaky breath.

Spencer had stripped to nothing without a similar hesitation. He felt me staring, I’m sure, but he didn’t look at me just yet. He gave me the space and privacy to marvel at the silhouette in front of me. Both new and old, he bared his scars to me, but didn’t dare allow himself to measure my reaction to them.

He waited until he heard the last piece of clothing hit the floor before he turned around. It was his turn to take in once familiar sights.

For just one breath, I heard his lungs stutter. I saw the longing for more, the desperation for my arms to wrap around him not with debauchery, but with the closest thing to healing he’d ever felt.

I didn’t want him to break my heart again. He had already broken it a million times that week. With every overly fond glance and every tiny little smile. I didn’t want my heart to hurt when he held me, so when he climbed onto the bed, I began to turn onto my stomach. I didn’t make it, though.

“No,” he urged. He crushed my wrist in his haste but didn’t apologize. Still, he was gentle when he started to pull me back into my place. As soon as he’d touched me, my body went limp. I succumbed to his whim the same way I always did. I trusted him to lead me where I needed to go.

But I hadn’t expected it to be there. I hadn’t expected him to be close enough that I could feel the heat radiating from him, to see the lightning strikes in his irises with perfect clarity when he explained, “I want to see your face when I fuck you.”

I nodded. That was all he needed. The tension left his shoulders as he reached between our bodies. His hand drew patterns through the nectar smeared between my thighs. He didn’t wait for permission; he had already gotten it through the sound of my whispering his name. Two lithe fingers worked their way between tight, tentative muscles.

“Come on, pretty girl,” he said with a little bit of a chuckle, “you remember me.”

Although I didn’t mean to, I laughed. The sound was so unexpected that it was almost foreign. But if that had felt unfamiliar, it was nothing compared to the smile that bloomed over his cheeks. My body gave into him. I felt my jaw drop just as he kissed me. We both hid from the truth of our feelings by channeling that desire into something less scary.

Once he was sure that it wouldn’t hurt, he positioned himself at my entrance and wasted no more time. Inch by torturous inch, he filled the empty space in a way that only he could. My body accepted him, embraced him with a blatant and undeniable longing.

When he stopped kissing me, I was afraid to open my eyes. I didn’t want him to see the truth of what I felt at that moment. Instead, I selfishly took the moment in without his scrutiny.

His hand on my cheek almost felt cold compared to the burning heat of my skin. I whimpered at the feeling but leaned further into his touch. He held me harder, pushing his hips further until I winced from the feeling of too much. Too much of him and too much emotion that threatened to spill out in the form of, ‘I still love you.’

“Look at me,” he ordered.

I bit my lip until I felt the sting and I clenched my eyes shut the same way.

I can’t. Not yet.

Spencer didn’t take kindly to being ignored. His hips drew back and snapped forward faster and harder than I thought him capable of.

“Do what I say,” he growled before repeating lower, “Look at me.”

My jaw was forced open from the tension of his fingers on my cheek. His thumb pressed down on my lip, too, feeling the way my breath came in quick, unsteady bursts as I reminded myself that it would be nothing he hadn’t seen before. He wouldn’t mistake it. He wouldn’t miss it.

“Please,” he said softer.

With a shaky timbre he begged, “That’s an order.”

I opened my eyes. Immediately, the energy shifted. The undercurrent of anger remained, but it was covered with a relief and a softness that made my heart flutter. Devoted, determined golden eyes burned through all defenses until I was nothing but him.

The rest of the world faded away, and any color it brought was replaced with fire. Any happiness or comfort I’d derived from other things seemed meaningless compared to the gentle curve of perfect peach lips when he whispered, “Good girl.”

I craved it. I needed to hear it again and again until we both felt worthy of the things we were feeling. We’d found that feeling before — somewhere between the sheets when we couldn’t pretend like things were still the same.

Just like then, Spencer held himself back. His control in this realm was practiced; he knew exactly what to do when he was buried between my legs. Each thrust of his hips would make me tremble until I wrapped around him hard enough to leave bruises where my heels had been.

It was at that point between pleasure and pain that he would run his hand tenderly over the tired muscles of my thigh.

“Keep your legs open,” he said despite our mutual struggle to breathe, “You’re doing so well.”

And I would try for him. I would convince stubborn muscles to relax by reminding them how he had always kissed any bruises he’d left. I called upon memories of each time that he’d care for me when it was all over. My mind summoned images of him, captured perfectly despite not being blessed with a flawless memory.

I looked at him then, too. In that moment, in the throes of passion when he looked down at me like there was nowhere else that he’d rather be. He made me feel so special that for a moment, I wondered how it could ever be possible that he hadn’t meant every bit of it.

“You remember this, don’t you?” he asked.

Of course I do, I should have said. You were the happiest I’d ever been.

But instead, I said nothing. Instead, I bit my lip and I nodded at him. We both smiled at the concession that seemed so miniscule compared to the truth. If he’d noticed my avoidance, he’d chosen not to acknowledge it.

His curious smile grew into a smirk. He flashed me a look somewhere between playful and furious; a special kind of jealousy reserved for the ones who’d put themselves in a position to be envious.

“I bet you think about me every time you let some pathetic asshole into your bed,” he spat.

I didn’t tell him he was right, but he saw it on my face.

He smiled brighter, then. The jealousy faded and was replaced with a pride that I’d always thought suited him. His hips came down harder and his hand that had been on my thigh slid underneath me. With a firm grip on one cheek, he forced my hips up just in time for him to ruin me with one thrust.

The crushing force of his hips against mine sent my mind reeling. I could barely register the sounds of my own cries. They were all unintelligible, desperate pleas, not for mercy, but for more.

He knew this, so he gave me what I’d asked for. He gave me more.

“But he doesn’t get to see you like this, does he?” he teased. That time, there was no doubt that he had been having fun with it. “No one does. No one but me.”

And in a twisted sort of way, so was I. I reveled in his jealousy, but even more so in that pride. I wanted him to imagine me with someone else because I wanted him to claim me the way he always had. I wanted to feel him so deeply that his name became etched on my bones.

“Spencer,” I cried. It sounded weak and pathetic and true.

It made his nails dig into my skin until the sharpness turned into an ache. The steady rhythm of his hips faltered for a moment — just the one, just long enough for him to mutter words like magic underneath his breath.

“You’re mine,” he said, and so it was true.

“Yes,” I promised him as he ravaged my body, “I’m yours.”

“Tell me…” he started.

I hung on the words the same as he clung to me. Even as our bodies slid apart, we never let them stray too far. My hands traveled over the flexed muscles of his arms with a gentle touch that turned rough the moment I reached something I could anchor onto.

A small tug on the hair at the back of his neck elicited a groan that escalated into an order. One with the force of half-full lungs and a ruthless thrust into me.

“Tell me that you miss me,” he said.

“I miss you,” I answered without waiting. I should’ve known the paranoid profiler would interpret my haste as falsehood.

“Don’t lie.”

“I’m not,” I insisted to no avail.

He’d just continued looking at me while fading away. The light in his eyes paradoxically flared, filling his mind with smoke that spoke the lies he’d projected onto me.

As my back started to burn from the friction of the sheets beneath me, I made my touch feather-light. I abandoned a tight grip on his curls and reverted to cradling heated cheeks.

“Please, Spencer,” I begged.

He took the request as a challenge, and he did not give in. I was rewarded for my intimacy by an increasing brutality. I hated that it still felt like home; a reminder among the monotony that there were still beautiful things among the bad.

Because I looked at him and I saw absolutely nothing worth hating. I couldn’t even find ambivalence. He was unhinged, speaking directly from the heart, and knowing that he could hide behind the shield of his own authority if he’d said too much.

Within that framework, I could also lie to myself and say that we didn’t mean any of it. We could both pretend that there was no meaning to the fact that he had told me to do what he says.

That’s an order, he had said moments before.

And in that absolute, unparalleled freedom, Spencer only had one order left to give. Of all his wildest fantasies, there was one that reigned supreme.

He knew that I would do whatever it was that he asked of me, and so he ordered, “Tell me that you love me.”

His jaw was clenched shut, barely twitching to make way for his request. It was small and low and… still so fucking beautiful. It made my heart ache in a way that made the physical feel like a mere scratch on the surface. But his words had blown my rib cage open wide enough that I knew he could see my heart reaching to him through the rubble.

“Spencer, I—" I started, but I never got to say what I’d wanted.

I didn’t tell him I still loved him. I couldn’t complete the order because the moment he saw the letter L on my tongue, he pressed his lips against mine hard enough to bruise. He left no space for the words.

Maybe he did it because he decided he didn’t want to hear it, or perhaps he’d realized how badly I wanted to say it.

Because I did want to say it. I wanted it so badly that it hurt worse than anything else. So, in a moment of daring, and all the while reminding myself that no intimacy would go unpunished, I tore his face away from mine despite his resistance.

“I love you,” I said with the only air I had left, “I will alwayslove you.”

Spencer said nothing, but his eyes spoke poetry. Each beautiful thing he’d ever read was reflected at me through the blazes and lightning of molten irises. Although the words were not there, I heard them, nonetheless. I felt the way he loved me and saw them painted in a bowed brow as his jaw finally fell with relief.

“Fuck. I’m…” he blubbered. He’d tried to keep his eyes on me, to hold off a little longer, but the defeat was approaching swiftly and without mercy, so he gasped, “Where?”

“Inside,” I rasped.

Spencer smiled. A sweet but wicked grin exactly like the bittersweet we’d always been.

“You’re still mine,” he said, and so it was true. “You’re always going to be mine.”

I opened my eyes to look at him as the euphoria finally came, but I was surprised to feel his lips meet mine first. He kissed me, not with brutality, but softness. Even though he was clumsy and close, there was no heaviness behind the movements.

Spencer made one last motion, one deep thrust until he was surrounded by me, and then he let go. He found an anchor, a home within the part of me that no one else got to touch. He filled my body with warmth the same way he always had, but it felt different somehow. Even his lips felt different in that moment, almost as if I’d been a fool for thinking I’d ever actually been given his intimacy before then.

But that feeling still paled in comparison to what followed. Hot, moist breath puffed against my neck as Spencer collapsed into my waiting embrace. His mouth drew along the column of my throat until there was no sense to be made from the sound that followed.

We both pretended that I couldn’t hear him whispering.

But he had said, “I still love you.” We just pretended he didn’t.

That sacrifice made it hurt less when he finally left. Albeit reluctantly, he did leave, and the space on the bed seemed frigid without him there. The room smelled like sex and what we should regret but didn’t.

Spencer had gone straight for the door, fleeing down the hallway to the bathroom that would take him furthest away from me. I, however, took the path of convenience. I took the short walk to the bathroom attached to my room and tried to find a way to be okay with returning to an empty bed.

I took my time. I stared at my reflection in the mirror and noticed for the first time that my cheeks hadn’t hurt from his hands, but from the wide smile stretched between them. I basked in that feeling of peace for just a few moments longer, and when I was ready, I turned out the light before I lifted my head.

I should’ve known better than to think that his intimacy would go unpunished. Because despite all odds, Spencer was still there. His clothing, which had been strewn about the floor, sat neatly folded on his night table like an offer to leave.

I didn’t ask him to leave, though. I approached him cautiously, as if he were a caged animal with his teeth bared. But he didn’t appear fazed, and in fact didn’t seem to notice me at all until I crawled into the bed beside him.

“Do you feel any better?” I asked.

He didn’t answer, not with his words nor his eyes.

“Yeah,” I said with an awkward chuckle to fill the silence, “I figured.”

The quiet returned, but only for a moment.

“Did you mean it?” he asked. He didn’t look at me when he said it.

“What?”

“Did you mean it?” he repeated.

I considered telling him the truth. I spoke the words inside my head, and I felt my tongue move along with them between slightly parted lips. But when I gave myself permission to speak, ‘yes’ did not follow.

“You… you said it was an order,” I muttered, instead.

Immediately, the regret consumed him, and his vulnerability vanished with a one-worded white flag of, “Yeah.”

“I’m sorry,” I tried to explain, but he was already speaking before I’d finished the beginning.

“Don’t be.”

But I was. I was sorry that I loved him, and I was even more sorry that I was too much of a coward to tell him. We’d both deserved better than the silence, but it was our only option at the time.

So, I worked within the confines of circumstance. I didn’t tell him that I loved him with my words, and I didn’t try to force him to look into my eyes and hope that his genius might translate to reading my mind.

Instead, I reached forward into the darkness and pulled him closer. His instincts led his lips to mine, and we found each other. It was a long but chaste kiss. An opportunity for closure, if only for one night.

When it was over, he finally looked at me again. The both of us were now wreckage, adrift in a sea of unknowns but still clinging helplessly to one another. We were fully prepared to drown or to burn from the reflection of the sun when it rose the next morning. The rest of the world would be unaffected by what had happened, but the two of us would remain forever changed.

Spencer looked at me with a quivering lip and he sighed. The breath should have carried words with it, but they lagged behind. Eventually, though, his lips parted and eventually, made room for something more.

“Thank you,” he whispered before pausing to contemplate exactly what it was that I was to be thanked for. Eventually, he settled on two words spoken with a nostalgia and a pain that didn’t suit the sentiment, “for caring.”

“Of course,” I said with a subtle turn of my tone, as if to ask if he’d ever doubted my affection for a second.

Then he made his insecurity more obvious. More poignant and pointed like the metaphorical knife his question dug into my chest.

“Can I stay with you?” he whispered like a lost child.

I tried not to make it obvious how much having to state the obvious aloud hurt me.

“Yes, Spencer. Of course you can stay.”

But despite the invitation of open arms, Spencer rolled onto his side facing me. He maintained the distance between us while simultaneously filling it with an undeniable longing. With fingers twitching for something to grab hold of, he tried and failed to close his eyes. Tears sat on his lashes; they made home in the limbo, too afraid to be forever lost in the aftermath, but too terrified to stay.

“Do you want me to hold you?” I asked before I’d realized what a terrible idea it would turn out to be.

But how was I meant to stop either of us when the light returned to his eyes with a vengeance to exact. Beneath the visage of his relief was a punishment to be sought for the vulnerability we’d stolen from fate, but we didn’t care.

“Will you?” he pleaded.

“Of course,” I answered.

He fell into open arms without hesitation.

From there, Spencer curled in on himself against me like a dying leaf, and he, too, shivered from the cold. It was just a different kind; a kind that my body heat wouldn’t be enough to fix. But I would try, holding him while he wept and pressing gentle kisses to his forehead and stroking loving patterns into his skin, whispering over and over again, “It’s okay, Spencer. You’re safe here. You’re going to be okay.”

I would have done it for hours — for as long as it took — but it hadn’t taken too long before his tortured mind settled into sleep. Even then, I stayed awake, and I held him with that same desperation. We clung to one another in a cruel world and tried to offer to one another what little peace we still had. We found a reason to stay.

His reserves had been exhausted, and I had to try to make it better. Not because it was the right thing to do, but because I loved him.

I had lied to him earlier, and now it was too late to take it back.

I still loved him. All of me would always love him.

(Tell me what you thought of this fic here!)

[frogtanii]

“hi everyone,” you gave your webcam a half hearted wave, noting the flood of inquisitive comments at your demeanor.

ynismymommy: omg queen r u ok??????

emilia.95: Have you been sleeping?

atsumus-leftballsack: bestie imma need you to invest in some concealer

a giggle pried it’s way up your throat, despite your attempts to stop it as you read the comments. yes, you were fully aware that you looked like shit however, you just weren’t expecting the viewers of your stream to be so... observant.

“holy shit guys, i’m okay,” you attempted to placate your vicious audience by giving them a (forced) smile and a small chuckle. “let’s just play, okay?”

you loaded up your game of choice (call of duty — you had a lot of aggression to work off) while making idle chatter with your fanbase. they seemed to have dropped conversation about your heavy eye bags and low enthusiasm in favor of more lighthearted topics.

just as you were starting to get into it, a knock sounded at your door. at first, you were tempted to ignore it but after a few moments of silence, the knocking started up again, more incessantly. your comments started to go wild, wondering who exactly was banging on your door at like 11p.

bokutos.bahamamommamilkers: tell whoever is @ the door to fuck off

shartyba3_420: damn slam me yn like [redacted] is slamming on that door

Greg_72: Hey, you can go answer that! We’ll wait <3

you apologize quickly before removing your headphones and scurrying over to the door. swinging it wide open, you’re met with bokuto.

and what a sight he is.

once bright, golden eyes were now dull and void, accompanied by dark circles that rivaled your own while his usually sunny visage was dampened by this metaphorical dark cloud that was hanging above him.

in other words, he looked like shit.

the both of you must look like quite a pair — you in your ratty, oversized hoodie and red sweats and him in his white t shirt and flannel pajama pants. after giving him another glance over, you repressed the urge to pull him into your room and into a hug, instead choosing to wrap your arms around yourself tightly.

“um, hey bo,” you started, unable to keep your eyes on his face. “i’m really sorry but i’m streaming right now. maybe we can hang out later?”

bokuto shook his head no, and your heart began to sink. you were just so tired and you didn’t have the energy to entertain or comfort the man at the moment without letting another piece of yourself crumble but you knew you didn’t have the heart to turn him away.

resigning yourself to your fate, you stepped to the side to let him into your room, making a mental note to shield him from your webcam while you brought him to lie on your bed.

to your complete and utter surprise, bokuto did not move, shaking his head no again before moving to grab something just out of your sight behind your doorway.

you were now thoroughly intrigued, shuffling closer to peek into the hallway, only to be stopped by a box being thrusted into your hands. you looked over the colorfully painted cardboard but it gave you no indication as to what was on the inside and glancing at kotarou gave you no help whatsoever.

“what’s this?” you voiced your confusion while weighing the box in your hands, the confusion only amplifying when you discover the box is suspiciously light. you’re shaken from your investigation when bokuto throws another object in your hands, this one significantly heavier.

looking up at him, you’re taken aback by the emotion swirling in his irises, his mouth finally parting to speak. “i’m so sorry,” kotarou’s voice, while gravelly from disuse, was sincere, a slight quiver being found underlying his words. “i- i know i never said it but i just want you to know that i-i care about you and that i am so sorry for ever hurting you and making you feel like you were less than. y-you’ve helped me become myself again a-and i can never thank you enough.”

a shuddering breath left his chest as he trained his eyes on the ceiling before looking back at you with watery eyes. “you don’t have to forgive me. i-i’d understand.” you opened your mouth to respond, to rebut, but you were cut off by his strong arms, wrapping you up in a tight hug.

you couldn’t keep yourself from melting into his hold, a small ounce of stress leaving your body at his words but the bulk of it remaining. he’s just apologizing because you’re the only girl who’s shown him an ounce of kindness, the voice in the back of your head whispered.

as bokuto pulled you in tighter, you stiffened, the voice getting louder and more constant. the man holding you didn’t miss the way you tensed and hesitantly removed himself from you, his hurt written plain all over his face.

kotarou gave you a weak smile and another gentle apology before turning and leaving for his room. you already felt guilt creeping up your spine for not holding him the way you thought you should but you quickly pushed the feeling down, knowing that you wouldn’t have gotten the rest you deserved if you’d done so.

letting out a deep sigh, you shut your door and moved back to continue your stream, not before gently setting down the 2 colorfully decorated boxes on the bed, a small smile creeping across your face at the sight of the gifts.

your stream ended pretty shortly after, your mind unable to focus on the game — it was getting borderline embarrassing how often you were dying to the point you were worried your sponsors would pull out of supporting you.

with a soft smile and goodbye, you collapsed on your bed, mindful not to crush the boxes. while you were extremely exhausted, you knew you wouldn’t be able to go to sleep without examining your gifts’ contents.

you decided to open the heavier box first which yielded bag after bag of your favorite chips, candies, and drinks. you knew your mouth was gaping unattractively but you couldn’t help it. this was... way too much.

at the bottom of the box was a small note, written in bokuto’s somehow endearing chicken scratch. it read, “hi yn!!!! this is for when you get hungry :) i know i didn’t let you eat any of my snacks for a long time so i thought it would be nice if i bought some for you!!!!! i hope i got these all right :( i asked atsumu for help!!!”

a choked chuckle escaped your lips and it only amplified as you continued to the end of the note. “p.s. don’t worry about not finishing it all!!! i can always help you ;) p.p.s. also you’re so pretty!!!! don’t not eat it because you don’t think so too <3”

wiping your eyes that had become suspiciously misty, you set down the slip of paper and reached for the second box.

you couldn’t keep the gasp from coming from you as the cardboard overflowed with tiny slips of paper. with shaky hands, you unfolded the first paper, the tears overflowing over your lashline before you could stop them.

you are loved :) - akaashi

“fuck,” you whispered, swiping at your face before clumsily reaching for another, and then another, each note making you cry harder than the last.

you are beautiful!!!!! never change!! - bokuto!!!

you’re really cool - kenma

you are so kind and i owe you the world - sugawara :)

you’re sympathetic, observant, and intelligent. - sakusa.

you are patient (even when we don’t deserve it) - kuroo

yer my angel <3 - tsum tsum

there were a ton more but you promised yourself you’d read them all later, your emotions getting the better of you. you’d rather not wake up with puffy, swollen eyes and a headache so you decided it would be best to close the box and finish it all later.

laying back on your bed, you expelled a deep breath of air, not realizing just how tense you were. you’d been living on edge with the guys for at least a month now and it was really starting to wear on you.

without being able to fully trust them, you knew it wouldn’t be long until you crumbled under the pressure.

you glanced at your phone before sighing again (it really was that kind of day, wasn’t it). maybe it was about time to give dr yamada a long awaited call.

℗ poker face

you are loved :)

series masterlist

(●’◡’●)ﾉ

an - ooweee first single apology down, 4 more to go!!! also the box of papers came from everyone (obv) but they still gotta give their individual apologies hehe which shall come in the future <33 sorry this took so long KSJD i hope u enjoy!!! don’t forget to feed me <333

taglist - if your name is in bold, i cannot tag you

@boosyboo9206 • @geektastic84 • @elianetsantana • @trashy-simp • @infinitebells • @6mattsun9 • @suhkusa • @sazunari • @kotarosbabygirl • @fucktheworlddude • @insomniacwreck • @calumsfringe • @saltylettuce • @chai-blu • @al3x1ss • @hawksyoongi • @syndellwins • @jooleuuh • @amberalisa • @kissungjae • @liberhoe • @tetsurocore • @animeoverdosee • @duhsies • @saikishairclip • @afire24 • @premiyagi • @kit-kat428 • @doctorspencereid • @daphnxy • @kyomihann • @maer-333 • @sinoflust19 • @peteunderoos • @peachiikichu • @iidanotlida • @yongboxerrr • @kac-chowsballs • @tanakaslastbraincell • @memorableminds • @risjime • @starry-magicshop • @sugavwara • @smuttyanimeslut • @kiwibirbs-library • @haijkk • @airybnb • @crybabygumi • @iwaisa • @decaffinatedtealover • @notameera • @kawaii-angelanne • @rintarovibes • @urlocalsimp

the rest of the tags will be in the replies!!

[todoscript]

how he would ask you out

request: pls some headcanons of how the boys (shinsou/tamaki/shouto) would ask the girl they like out 🥺

characters: shinsou hitoshi, amajiki tamaki, todoroki shouto

genre: fluff

word count: 3.3k+ total, 900-1200 per character

tags: pining, confessions, fem!reader

author’s notes: sorry if this sounds rushed?? i can’t write 

copyright 2021 todoscript, all rights reserved. i do not allow my creations to be published or translated anywhere else.

SHINSOU HITOSHI

two years after his enrollment into the hero course, shinsou had finally came to terms with the feelings he’s been holding for you for quite some time now.

what began as just friendly encounters and kind gestures felt like something more to him. after all, you were one of the key people that led him to transition smoothly into the class, with your helpful demeanor and coming to his aid whenever he was stressed and troubled by the new environment.

you went out of your way to organize study sessions and small arrangements to mingle and get to know the other students better.

you reiterated to him that if he ever had any questions about anything, he could always come to you.

initially, shinsou thought he was being a burden—that he was just heavy baggage that tied you down.

however, you assured he was anything but, and stated that you were more than happy to help him, even going to say you enjoyed spending time and getting to learn more about him.

at your response, shinsou was appalled at how genuine you were.

appalled… but also very grateful.

eventually, there came a point when he realized there was no mistaking the affection he felt for you—not when he subconsciously noted every one of your habits and intricacies, able to tell whatever emotions were running through you at a simple glance, or when he would stop to admire the way you decided to style your hair differently or changed your look, thinking you seemed even more charming that day by the confidence you exude.

no, at that point, he’s sure it was painfully obvious. so obvious, in fact, that kaminari and mina had chosen to skip today’s group study session in favor of letting the two of you have your “alone time”. whatever that could mean.

shinsou had grimaced over their excuse of “being too busy that day” when you had told him the reasoning they gave you over text, despite knowing their next exam was only a couple days away. recalling just how nosy and enthusiastic they could get when involved in these kinds of affairs, he had an inkling of what exactly those two were planning. you, on the other hand, seemed completely oblivious to their schemes.

however, what did latch onto your mind was the thought of spending the day with only shinsou, in his very room, sitting across from each other with your textbooks open in front of you. though you should be more attentive to your studies, you couldn’t help the palpitations beating loudly in your chest and your wandering eyes that snuck glances at him after every question you answered.

unbeknownst to you, shinsou mirrored your actions all the same, reciprocating the flustered behavior, albeit a bit more subtly.

keep calm, hitoshi. why are you getting all worked up? he would say to himself, putting on his usual facade.

although he came off as relatively calm and collected on the outside, it’s difficult to keep his emotions in check when actions never lie.

that was especially true as he reached his hand out for the eraser you two were sharing between each other. with his eyes continuing to gander down at his notes, he hadn’t noticed that you were lunging for the same thing—not until your fingers had suddenly touched and you both pulled away at a speed equivalent to making contact with fire.

his stare unfaltering, shinsou was surprised to discern the embarrassed look on your face that immediately fixed itself as you rummaged through your pencil pouch. a second later, you pulled out another eraser, one that was notably smaller than the one you were sharing.

“um.. i’ll just use this,” you offered, and shinsou rubbed the back of his neck, the whole situation more awkward than it needed to be considering you never had any trouble sharing your supplies with each other before.

through some examination of your demeanor, shinsou had made a… bold enough claim, thinking that maybe—just maybe—you held the same kind of affections for him as he did for you.

it’s like he recalled earlier—actions never lie—and shinsou didn’t let the quiver of your lips or the intense concentration at your work to avoid meeting his gaze go past his head. that’s what spurred him to finally act on his desires.

without warning, he leaned forward on his seat to lay his hand over yours that caught your attention. you met his eyes, astonished to say the least, but more so concerned by how your eyes widened before you were about to open your mouth to ask him what was wrong.

the violet-haired male beats you to your words, voice resonating firmly, “y/n.”

you blinked. “y-yeah..?”

“i know this might be a bit late coming from me, but,” you could feel his hand tighten atop yours, “after exams, do you want to catch a movie together? just the two of us?”

shinsou fought the urge to look away, bashful at how he made his declaration for your time. the warmth surging under his skin was alleviated at the smile that slowly curled on your lips as you rotate your wrist, your palm touching his. the expression washing over your features told him you’ve been waiting for him to ask you this for a while now.

“i’d love to.”

AMAJIKI TAMAKI

ever a shy and introverted individual, tamaki has never had the heart to ask you out despite years of harboring a crush on you.

every time the thought had crossed his mind, he’d reason poorly with himself that you wouldn’t be interested in him in that way.

it didn’t help that his low self-esteem only deepened that thought that had now rooted itself in his brain.

at such a prestigious school like u.a., you were bound to find someone far more compelling than him—someone with guts, confidence, and great social skills. not a guy like him who conjures the image of potatoes at every anxiety-inducing encounter he comes across.

he was relieved enough to settle himself comfortably as just your friend—a title that allowed him to stay close and keep within your circle, all the while subjecting him to simply admiring you from afar.

but his eyes that held a hidden longing for more weren’t overlooked by a fellow student of his. or to be precise, the ever curious and free-spirited, hadou nejire.

always aware of his surroundings, it was hard not to notice that peculiar stare she’d aim at him during moments where he might’ve just finished speaking to you, or when you’d pass by and his head would naturally drift in your direction.

it was like she was picking apart every detail laid on him and it made tamaki absolutely restless.

tamaki’s suspicions and anxiety were later raised during one instance at the lunch table. he was at his usual seat next to his other big three companions, mirio and the aforementioned nejire, who was eyeing him with a gleam in her eye.

even with his self-consciousness, tamaki did his best not to pay any mind to the undesired attention and munched on his plate of takoyaki—the octopus nestled in the batter sure to come in handy later in training that day.

to his dismay, you passed by their table with your tray of food in hand, and nejire did not waste any time calling you over in that cheery tone of hers.

she invited you to sit down with them. you gave her invitation some thought before ultimately placing yourself in the free spot next to mirio, with nejire and tamaki already seated across from you.

the girl was all smiles and hums while tamaki was in a state of distress, both at his friend’s odd behavior, which was starting to spell trouble, to having you pulled into all of this. mirio was just being mirio, welcoming as always.

you greeted everyone at the table, making eye contact with mirio and nejire, but tamaki evaded your line of sight. he simply waved his reply without breaking away from his balls of takoyaki.

luckily for him, you didn’t give his lack of words much thought and started digging into your own lunch. it was then that nejire found it appropriate to start up a conversation.

“y’know, y/n, i’ve been meaning to ask you this, from one girl to another,” she mused, finger waving around playfully, “are you interested in anyone here?”

upon hearing her question, tamaki almost choked on his bonito flakes, his cheeks puffed and eyes blown. meanwhile, your chewing slowed as you gave your answer some thought.

“uh… well–”

“i’d say fujita from class d is quite the looker! think you’d be interested in them?”

after swallowing the food in his mouth, tamaki began to subconsciously listen in on the conversation. he paid close attention to your responses with bated breath, a small part of him anticipating your answer highly.

“fujita’s nice and all, but i don’t think we’d really get along as a couple.”

tamaki mentally sighed, relief evident all over his face. it was then that mirio had started fitting the pieces together after watching his close friend’s brow wrinkle throughout the entire exchange before finally relaxing at your words. crossing his eyes with nejire’s only confirmed his suspicions as the girl sent him a wink.

as a friend, mirio wasn’t about to let nejire’s operations fall flat. getting up from his seat, he motioned tamaki to come with him.

“i heard they have extra yakisoba bread right now! we should go check it out!” he said as a guise to give the other two time to themselves, free from tamaki’s prying ears.

unaware that mirio had caught on so quickly, tamaki didn’t object to tagging along with him. mostly because he thought of this as an opportunity to get some fresh air and calm his racing heart, finally feeling the effects of the blood rushing to his face.

with tamaki supposedly out of earshot, nejire was free to go about her questions however she wanted.

“okay then, if not fujita, then who? there has to be someone, right?” the girl scooted further in her seat out of pure curiosity. “tell me, is it perhaps someone in our class?”

it was your turn to be stricken by her boldness. you tried picking at your food, stuffing it into your mouth to avoid answering, but nejire’s tenacity outmatched you.

finishing your lunch, you opened your mouth to speak, “actually, the person i’m interested in is pretty close to you…”

nejire feigned ignorance, innocently placing a finger under her chin. “who? mirio?”

“ah no, it’s tamaki, alright?!” you ended up blurting, voice hushed but frantic.

bingo. hearing exactly what she wanted, nejire returned to her original position, a triumphant grin plastered on her lips. replaying what you said out loud in your head, you buried your warm face in your hands.

unbeknownst to you, tamaki had ended up hearing the whole exchange around the corner coming back to their table as mirio lightly snickered at his revelation of an expression.

the blond patted his shoulder. “go on then, you know what to do.” he threw tamaki an encouraging thumbs-up.

the boy gulped in response before inhaling a deep breath of air to prepare himself for what would arguably be the most important yet stress-inducing moment of his life so far.

noticing you getting up to discard your tray, tamaki—through a final push from mirio—went to make his move.

hearing him suddenly call out to you, you were caught off-guard. after admitting to your crush on tamaki to nejire, you felt your cheeks get hot just seeing his face right afterward.

“oh hey, did you get your hands on those yakisoba breads?” you scraped up a way to start the conversation.

“right... that… mirio managed to get the last one in the cafeteria,” he answered. then he brought his hand to rub his elbow, fidgeting in his spot as he found it difficult to look you in the eyes again.

“tamaki? something wrong? are you upset that he got the last yakisoba bread?”

he shook his head. “no, i… it’s just… i’ve been meaning to ask you this for a long time now, but never had the courage to say it to you because i didn’t think you ever liked me that way. but…” he finally mustered the determination to face you head-on. “would you go out with me, y/n?”

at first, you were speechless—absent of words as you relayed his request in your mind over and over again. then, your eyes softened, lips easing into a smile as you reached out for his hand.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

TODOROKI SHOUTO

it’s no surprise to many that when it came to asking someone out, todoroki didn’t exactly know the first thing to do.

mostly because he’s never asked anyone out to begin with.

you were the first person he’s ever felt these kinds of emotions for, and to be frank, he wasn’t sure what to make of everything that had been going through him when that root of infatuation had started to bloom inside him.

rather than sulk or contemplate on his thoughts for too long, he surmised it was best to simply come clean and ask for advice.

but when he confessed to what had been on his mind lately, he wasn’t expecting such a vigorous response from his friends.

“i’ve been thinking about asking y/n out.”

there was a layer of uncomfortable silence amongst the group before all hell eventually broke loose.

midoriya, uraraka, and iida immediately sprung from their seats in the common room, yelling “what?!” in unison. tsuyu and her frog-like mannerisms were more idle, but still surprised nonetheless.

todoroki was unfazed by their reactions, actually expecting it to go that way considering he’s never brought up any topics of that nature before. at the very least, he’s thankful he decided to say this when it was just the five of them. compared to what the whole class’s reaction would have been like, this was incredibly tame.

todoroki was used to always listening to what others had to say and never being the subject of the conversation when it came to dating.

but now things were different. he was openly admitting to them that he was regarding someone romantically. that he possibly sought a relationship with this someone—wanting to be committed to them and become the very best person he could be right next to them. to the four, this was coming completely out of left field.

after everyone simmered down and let the news sink in, the dual-haired boy resumed his thought,

“but i’m not sure how to do it.”

though the entirety of the group never had any experiences when it came to dating, they knew enough from media and pop culture to get an idea on how to help him. more than todoroki could imagine on his own anyway.

“i know! how about we go with the romantic and suave approach!” uraraka suggested. the rest asked her to elaborate.

“it’s simple! it starts by you leaving a note on her desk right before class, saying to meet you on the rooftop of the school! before the designated time, you should wait there for her with a bouquet of flowers, and then when she arrives, confess your feelings and ask her out!”

midoriya rubbed a finger against his cheek, skeptical. “i don’t think that sounds as simple as you’re making it out to be.”

tsuyu chimed in beside him. “those kinds of ideas usually only work well in books, ochako.”

pursing her lips, uraraka gave her plan a once-over, and realized it did seem a bit more involved and out of character than what todoroki was used to.

despite sharing a few more ideas with one another, they couldn’t narrow it down to any perfect one.

that was when iida clapped his hand, bringing everyone’s attention to him.

“alright, i think we’re starting to blow this whole ‘operation’ way out of proportion,” he said.

“if you’re honest about the way you feel about her and show it sincerely, i’m sure she’ll consider your feelings. you don’t have to do anything extravagant when it comes to asking someone out.”

listening throughout every word, todoroki nodded. meanwhile the other three were astonished that their class representative could be so whimsical when it came to romance, which in turn, iida was conflicted by. however, at the very least he was glad they could help out a friend. and so, todoroki went about his day with their discussion in mind.

he found that in many occurrences, whenever he crossed by you and thought of it as a chance to ask you out, there would always be someone to come in and take your time away. leaving him to stand there awkwardly before dismissing the fated question for later.

eventually, the sky dimmed and evening arrived, and by then, the whole class was already back at their dormitory and about to have dinner.

through some rather convenient circumstances, you two were actually assigned on kitchen duty that night.

“it’s been getting pretty cold lately so i was thinking we should cook up a hot pot for everyone.” you gave your idea to him as you pulled out some ingredients from the fridge, waiting for his reply, but it came a few seconds later than you were expecting.

“right. sounds like a good idea,” todoroki answered a tad late. upon realizing it was only going to be the two of you making dinner tonight, his mind was occupied by what he and his friends spoke about earlier.

that was when he started overthinking the situation and absentmindedly half-assed his work.

“todoroki, the cut on the tofu is slightly uneven.” you reviewed his cutting board. looking down, he saw the inconsistent slices of tofu limp in front of him. if bakugou were the executive chef for the evening, he would’ve had to hear an earful from him.

“sorry…” he apologized quietly, reaching out for another cube of tofu to cut.

“is everything okay? i know you’re still learning how to cook, but i’ve seen you show some significant improvement on your knife skills recently.” you voiced your concern for him.

the white and red-haired boy stared at the white bean curd while hearing your worried tone and couldn’t find it within himself to continue the task. it was now or never he thought. he laid the knife flat on the cutting board.

“actually, i wanted to ask you something.” he turned toward you. “do you… want to go out with me?”

nothing but the sound of the fire running on the stove could be heard in the kitchen. todoroki didn’t move his eyes away from you, watching you nearly drop the plate of siu choy and shiitake mushrooms out of shock as your mouth was hanging open.

when you caught onto your bearings, you let out a small laugh. “oh… i… wasn’t expecting that,” you admitted honestly, placing the ingredients on the counter safely.

the boy furrowed his brows. “is that a no?”

“n-no! i mean that isn’t my answer! i–” you fumbled with your words, cheeks warming up now that his confession had finally sunk in. in the meantime, todoroki found your reaction quite amusing. the corner of his lip quirked into a grin.

“what i mean to say is that yes, i’d love to go out with you.” you accepted the offer wholeheartedly. todoroki would be lying if his heart wasn’t throbbing from anticipation. he’s glad he’s able to rest and put that aside.

“now let’s continue making this hot pot together!” you cheered, smiling widely and he found comfort in your words before resuming slicing the tofu.

[notnctu]

backseat chronicles - n.jm | ridin’ club

━ welcome to the ridin’ club smut series

genre ➠ slow burn, smut, fluff, lil angst  wordcount ➠ 8.5k details ➠ fem!reader, streetracer!jaemin, badboy!jaemin, college!au ━ where Jaemin brings you to his club races as his arm candy. warnings ➠ explicit language, overstimulation, flirty banter, pet names, softdom!jaemin, car sex, praise kink, hittin it raw (y/n on the pill), oral, daddy kink, slight corruption kink, fingering synopsis ➠ There is no reasonable explanation as to why or how you always end up in the backseat of Na Jaemin’s beloved car. Almost routinely, he picks you up around ten in the evening with the stereo blasting the raunchiest lyrics for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. The entire night remains purely friendly, a dabble of flirtatious comments because well, it’s Jaemin for fuck sakes. But all it takes is one suggestive gaze from his dark, lustful eyes and a drop in his voice that rumbles your core to have you climbing over the seats to get to the back. taglist ➠ @rabbit-doyochi​​​ ; @darkneogotmyback​​​ ; @im-lame-irl​​​ ; @p-mini​​​ ; @niniluvsmarkhyuck​​​ ; @saniahmichael​​ ; @jaehy9ngs​​​ ; @danyxthirstae01​​​ ; @jaehyunoos​​​ ; @pikijaemin​​​ ; @suhweo​​​ ; @yunoyeol​​​ ; @lanadreamie​​​ ; @ta3ilmoon​​​ ; 

a/n ➠ hi yall its author doie❀!! thank you for over 1k notes on this series, im beyond impressed by the amount of attention this got! it really blew up and its so crazy!! i wrote this one with more of a romantic plotline i realized its too hard to keep it pwp with all the story building and characterization i have :)) it’s almost over yall! pls pls leave me feedback im sorry it took so long to write ):

While college lecture rooms are too big to interact with other students, discussion classes are there to ease the difficulty. A classroom for about twenty students from a three hundred person lecture. It’s administered by a clueless TA, who barely began his second term in graduate school.

Unlike lecture, attendance is mandatory for participation points. You show up every time without a fail, so it came as a shock to you when a certain blue haired student finally appeared from the list of absent students.

Na Jaemin. The notorious playboy with looks that kill and partakes in some illegal racing club. It’s as if every person in the room fawns over his aura, Jaemin drips with an inexplicable alluring confidence. You didn’t know anything about him besides the fact that he never shows up for class and rumors about how he’s slept with the entire cheer squad.

But he’s drawn to you like a magnet: always sitting in the available spot next to you, asking about your day before the TA arrives, developing an odd staring problem. You don’t feed much into his attention, minding your own business when he starts with his notably flirtatious greeting.

“You just take my breath away, (Y/N).” Jaemin cocks back in his seat with legs stretched wide in an overly comfortable manner. The smug smirk on his face cannot be ignored, he’s doing the absolute most to get you to pay the smallest attention to him.

“I didn’t do anything in particular to do that, Jaemin.” You respond bitterly, pulling out your notes for today’s discussion class. The TA enjoys wasting the first twenty minutes going over the past lecture slides and running through the most obvious topics.

You pay no mind to Jaemin peering over at you with the single handedly most dreamy eyes and smile --- stars shining in his dark orbs and a dazzling twinkle in his wide toothy grin.

“That’s why you’re so amazing. You do nothing and it still leaves me breathless.” His sneaky eyes examine your clothing choice for the long day. On this warm afternoon, the short tank top does nothing to hide much of your skin and the denim shorts that ride up a little too well drive Jaemin insane. And when you cross your legs together, he swallows the spit that pools in the back of his throat.

Your ears catch onto the murmurs of the rest of the class, the midterm is next week. The wretched midterm that is half of your grade dooms you, it is going to take an endless amount of completely undistracted dedicated hours of study--- “On a more serious note, can you help me with this class?”

His voice shatters your inner panic, if anything, adds to the stress that already beats down on your shoulders. You look up to glare at him, but you’re entirely taken aback by the new styling of his hair and the exposure of his tattoos.

The sweet blue cotton candied strands are ruffled lazily above his brows, messy from him constantly running his hand through them. Jaemin sits relaxed in gray sweatpants that are extremely baggy on his slender figure, hands are shoved casually into the pockets.

But what has you staring for longer is the long sleeve of tattoos that wrap around his left arm. Not that you’re surprised that Jaemin has tattoos, let alone a whole sleeve, but this is your first time seeing it as this is the first time he’s come to class without his leather jacket on. Something about the intricate lines and shadowing make Jaemin seem much cooler, almost more attractive.

When you meet his eyes, his lips curl slowly into a sly side smile and he’s practically eating you up under his gaze. He definitely knew that you were staring and what comes next out of his mouth will haunt you for it. “Like what you see, beautiful?”

“I don’t have the time to help you.” The best way out of this situation is to simply ignore it. Jaemin is overly adored and admired by many, he’ll find someone else to help him.

“Jaemin, do you want to study together?” There you go, folks. The random girl snickers with her small huddle of friends in the upper corner of the room, like a crowd of crows, they’re all waiting around for Jaemin to accept her offer so he can be easily integrated into their little group.

However, you watch how his glances bounce between you and her. The most sickly sweet, kind smile is almost too fake to consider it to be genuine. His final choice surprises you, “thank you for offering, but I only want (Y/N)...”

Your breath hitches and gets caught in your throat as you hope for him to finish his sentence, the drumming of your heart distracting you even more. Jaemin wants you? While the thought is flattering, it puzzles you greatly.

“... to help me with my studies.” Jaemin finishes his sentence after a rather long pause, his eyes finally resting upon your figure shying away and finding any way to seem uninterested in the conversation. “Is that going to be okay, (Y/N)?”

“What do I get out of it?” You can’t believe that you are actually considering it. But this is a man that only wants you to help him. Jaemin is an impossible, yet charming man and whatever comfortable attire he is wearing today is really aiding in his request.

He lights up, ears perked up and eyes attentive. His hands fold together on the empty desk, leaning forward towards you. “Dates with me.”

Rolling your eyes, you groan slightly at the arrogant answer. “I don’t care about that. I want something that benefits me.”

“I’ll make sure you’re well fed.” There is a tiny plea in his tone, a remarkable shift from his cool aura. “What do you want? I’ll give it to you.”

“I guess I can’t turn down free food…” there is a hang in your sentence as you contemplate what chaos you’re about to dive into and what life changes are about to be explored with Jaemin.

“Before you agree,” Jaemin chuckles, “there’s one more thing I’d like you to do for me.”

You’re quick to shoot a daggering glare at the overly enthusiastic boy, “why do I suddenly owe you favors?”

“Because I say so.” He deadpans, a chill running down your spine at the deep dip in his octave. The playfulness that was present all this time suddenly vanished, a serious look that intimidates you, but sexy enough to where it erupts something in your core. He blinks at you with dark clouded eyes and you nervously anticipate what he is going to ask next of you.

“Accompany me to my races.” He speaks lowly as if he’s afraid of someone else eavesdropping in the conversation.

Here’s your issue with that request: you’ve never really been part of that scene. You’ve lived pretty mundanely, even in college. It’s simple, you like to stay within the boundaries of what you enjoy to do and what you have to do. But you’re always open minded and willing to try something to determine whether or not you’re fond of it.

Partying and drinking copious amounts of alcohol weren’t your favorite things to do, especially to the point of forgetting your nights. You wanted to remember your nights as much as you do your days. The youth isn’t here for long, why waste them by blacking out in the middle of a large party? Also, whoever said that alcohol goes down smooth is a blatant liar.

Illegal racing could possibly be an extension of people who participate in those things, which is fine, but does place a crippling fear of coming off too boring or unrelatable inside your nervous system. But just because you don’t do those things doesn’t mean that you’re not as cool, right?

Since when was your status based nonsensically on how often you spend your nights in socializing crowds full of sweaty bodies and how much cheap booze you can drink? It had to be all in your head --- you’re just dreading any awkward socializing with people who race cars when it’s absolutely illegal.

“Why me?” It’s a genuine answer, possibly stemming from your insecurities of not being on the same level of charm as Jaemin exudes. You’re not a fool, you’re well aware of the many different people he comes across on campus so, why you?

Jaemin doesn’t hesitate to answer, “why not you? You’re just my type. Hot and smart. Cute and a little shy. The greatest duality, if you ask me.” His words seem so genuine that it has you believing these things about yourself as well.

Nonetheless, you’re taken aback by his observations and his choice of descriptions. “We’ve barely ever talked. How can you say these things so confidently about me?”

Jaemin slightly pulls your chair closer to his own and you yelp in response to the sudden movement and lack of space that separates the two of you. He leans into you, breath hot on your skin and obvious eyes darting between your shocked ones and pretty lips.

“So let’s get to know each other. I can already tell that it’ll just make me fall for you even more.” His finger lightly traces your jaw, stopping at your chin to give it a small lift to meet his focus. Jaemin loves how you squirm underneath his intensity, you’re too cute to let go. “Plus, my boys will love you. I’m sure of it.”

The TA rushes in quickly and is utterly distressed from the traffic that had pushed back his schedule. “Sorry, I’m late everyone.” He rummages through his things to find his notes, but groans to see that the monitor of the computer is off. It’s going to take him another ten minutes to input all his credentials.

But your attention doesn’t stray from Jaemin, especially with his delicate touch at the bottom of your chin. His gentle smile enacts nothing but a soft love, and a peak of interest. Na Jaemin, the one and only. He’s like an adventure waiting to be explored, an open bottle of fun for you to take a sip.

“What would I have to do?” Your voice comes out shaky.

“Just be there as your pretty self.” Jaemin comes off as the type to always have women around him, “you’ll be my lucky charm. For some reason, I always feel better around you.”

The escalation of this conversation is possibly more action you’ve had to handle in the last two years. Jaemin drops your chin and falls back into his own seat with his arms crossed. He is about to turn your life upside down and whether that be a good or bad thing, you don’t mind. You’re excited for the new thrills that come with being by Na Jaemin’s side.

Jaemin’s hot hands lift your shirt quickly, throwing it towards the front seat of his car. His lips return to your soft neck, nibbling at your skin tenderly and with love bites that will remind you of his gentle touches. The streetlamps outside flicker impatiently as you feel the eagerness soaking your panties and he lifts you up to take them off.

“My sweet girl,” his voice is light and airy that it becomes almost lost in the heat of the car. “You’re excited tonight. Did you miss me?” The devilish smirk can be felt upon your collarbones.

“Yes, I haven’t seen you for almost five days.” A peculiar whine settles in your pout and Jaemin’s low growl sends shivers down your spine. The only barrier are his own tight jeans and your hands are fast at unbuckling his belt. Jaemin relaxes back, forearms resting on your soft thighs and watching the neediness in your expression and the speed of your hands. He smiles to himself seeing you this way, wanting him so badly that you can’t wait to get him out of his jeans.

Throughout the two months that you and Jaemin finally became well acquainted, he’s fallen inexplicably into your trance. His friends made it very clear to you that he doesn’t keep the same girl around for more than a few weeks. But he’s brought you to almost every race so far and despite the initial shock of your appearance after the third time, you didn’t let the passing comments phase you.

Why he hasn’t replaced you is unknown and truthfully, there is no reasonable explanation how you always wind up in the backseat of his car by the end of the night. It’s become part of your routine. Jaemin picks you up around ten in the evening with raunchy lyrics blasting out of his personalized car for your entire suburban neighborhood to hear. More often than not, Jaemin has food ready for you to devour and a cozy blanket for your exposed legs.

You’ve learned a bit more about him through your backseat chronicles. Jaemin is possibly one of the only people in your life with a heart bigger than his own body, while also being as carefree as he can. Oddly enough, he cares about you as his friend and as his companion. Not to mention the ridiculous, yet endearing nickname, “Lucky Charm”, that he has coined upon you.

Jaemin has been the best adventure you’ve had in ages. While he takes you on intoxicating thrill rides on the leather of his back seats, every street race has been more than unforgettable. He shares one of the same values as you --- wanting to remember the present. You both know that you’ll remember each other enough for it to transcend into your next lives.

You have him to thank for your youthful experiences, to learn and dive into this new found world of mischief under his care. Jaemin treats you extraordinarily well, he’d never hurt a soul. He showers you in appraisal and carefulness, he’s attentive to your behavior and remembers your favorite things. And he reminds you almost every time you see him that he’s so grateful to have you in his life.

“Have you been touching yourself?” Jaemin’s bold question catches you off guard as it causes your hands to shyly hover over his unzipped jeans. When you glance up at him with soft innocent eyes, as if you’re guilty of a crime and wish to beg for forgiveness, his facial expression is serious and intimidating. 

“Continue, baby. You can be honest with me. Daddy isn’t going to punish you if you did.” His tone is sweet and light, but his eyes are dark and piercing. His lips are drawn tightly into a thin line, no curve in sight.

His finger grazes down your cheek gently as he admires your slightly parted lips and the way your eyelashes dance every time you blink. However, his other hand urges you to continue your previous action of getting him out of his restrictive jeans.

You nod, while rubbing his erection through his gray briefs that hug him so tightly. There’s a sharp intake of breath when you pull the waistband of his underwear down and his cock stands against his lower abdomen. “Do you think of me when you do?” His voice gets caught in his throat when you take him in your warm hand.

“Always.” You kiss his jawline and fix your position above his dick. Your slick pussy presses down against his shaft, coating it in your juices and rubbing his tip to your clit for a delicious sensation. Jaemin groans, his gaze dipping between your lower bodies and back to your face.

“My sweet (Y/N) thinks about her daddy fucking her senseless while she touches herself.” Jaemin chuckles darkly, grinding his hips harder against you. There is a shift in the atmosphere as he grips your hips and slowly enters your dripping hole. “That’s cute, baby.”

You hold onto his shoulders as his raw dick fills you to the brim, stretching you out like past nights. Gasps leave your body when he starts pulling all the way out to only have you sink back down. “Daddy, please just fuck me.”

Jaemin picks up his speed, knowing that you have a quiz due at midnight that you scolded him for forgetting earlier. The grip on his shoulders tighten as this man navigates your body all too well. He knows you like the back of his hand, fucking the spot that causes your body to lose control.

One of his favorite sights in the world is the view of your lips parted open with loud whimpers falling effortlessly. Your eyes roll back into your skull as his hips roll deeper into your walls, the tip hitting your sweet spot repeatedly.

“You’re always the best girl for me, aren’t you?” His hand wraps around your neck when you throw your head back, choking you lightly and your walls grip around his shaft. “I know you’re close. Cum on my dick, baby. Be a good girl.”

Jaemin’s tattoos shine under the moonlight when you peer down at him. His hooded eyes are intoxicated by the pure image of your fucked out body and he’s truly in love. “My good girl, come on baby.” He continues to encourage, his other hand giving you a smack on your ass when he drills mercilessly into you.

The familiar bubbling occupy your lower half and the feeling of release unravels all so suddenly. You fall forward, Jaemin lets go of your neck to hold your limp body close to him, your head on his shoulder as your orgasm overtakes you. He grinds his hips into you to prolong your shaking climax, cooing sweet nothings in your ear as his other hand takes a whole handful of ass to squeeze.

He bottoms out, filling you up to the rim to cum deep inside of you. Jaemin moans loudly, his cum spilling all over your walls. You two sit like that until he grows soft, pampering your temples with gentle kisses. Jaemin remembers to take care of you, no matter what.

While you’re in his arms, he reaches for sanitary wipes in the side compartments. He lifts your hips slowly to pull out and you sigh at the emptiness. Gently, he swipes at the dripping cum from your pussy and makes sure that you’re all cleaned up before getting dressed.

“So, you want to tell me why you’ve been MIA for the past five days?” Rolling your eyes, you pull up your panties and fix the last decency of your hair.

“Car meets that are too far for me to take you.” His thumb rubs your chin lovingly and Jaemin’s eyes are so bright and mesmerizing, you find that it’s hard to look him in the eye at times.

“Not because you’ve been hooking up with other girls?” There is a tinge of sarcasm that laces your rhetorical question and though you don’t expect him to give you an actual answer, you take note of his reaction. Jaemin raises an eyebrow, clearing his throat and looking out the window away from you.

“And if I was?” Truthfully, that question hurt you more than your’s hurt him. His hand rests underneath his chin as he patiently waits for your answer. He admires the clear night sky and the rundown abandoned liquor store that stands all by itself.

“What do you want me to say?” Question after question, a stiff tension replaces the sex of the car.

“I’ll take you back now.” Jaemin crawls back to the driver’s seat, completely ignoring your confused figure. He has always been quite like this: going aloof whenever he wants to dodge something. However, it’s been happening more frequently the past times you two have been seeing each other.

The truth is simple, yet entirely complex at the same time. You and Jaemin aren’t dating, despite always going out together and him posessively introducing you to other men. You and Jaemin aren’t dating.

Nevertheless, it doesn’t stop you from growing feelings for him and you can tell that this happens too often for the attractive boy. He can’t have a fuckbuddy that won’t fall head over heels for him. But who could really blame you? Even if all this time Jaemin was pretending that he cared about you, he still pampers you like a princess; he still tells you he does.

But when it comes to discussion about advancing into something more, he hides and grows silent. This has you wondering, maybe this entire thing to him is all sex? And he can’t love you back the way you do.

No one knows his heart, not even himself. He’s never wanted to complicate his life, it’s always been about two things: racing and having fun. There is no easy way to explain it all, the thoughts that flood his mind and heart, so he chooses every way to ignore it. Overall, he’s genuinely lost. You are one source of stability in his life that he isn’t willing to let go, ever. But just because he won’t let you go, doesn’t mean that you won’t take the chance to leave when you’re fed up with him.

This has him wondering, how far can he push before he pushes you too far?

“No, it���s fine. I’ll just walk.” Tonight is unsettling, it usually doesn’t end like this. Jaemin locks the car doors and turns around to reach for your hand. “Jaemin, open the door.”

“I want you to say that you hate when I sleep with other people.” Jaemin confesses all too wildly as his hand lightly squeezes around your wrist. “And I want you to mean it.” He’s only speaking words of truth that haven’t had the time to process in his own thoughts.

“I hate when you sleep with other people.” And you do mean it. You mean it more than anything you’ve ever said to this man. Jaemin just sighs, bringing your wrist to his lips for a lasting kiss.

“Can I drive you home?” Jaemin asks softly, eyes dipping down to the leather seats and avoiding all need for eye contact.

“Yes, Jaemin.” He pulls you back into the passenger seat and drapes the soft blanket over your exposed legs. “Hopefully, I still have time to take my quiz.”

“Can I come inside?” Jaemin coolly turns his marble wheel to reverse out of the parking space, a hand resting on the shoulder of your seat as he does a double take behind him for any pedestrians, even if you two are far out in the middle of nowhere and there isn’t anyone around; Jaemin knows you have the hots for him when he does that specific move.

“What do you mean? You’ve already cum inside.”

It’s the sound of disappointment as his tongue tsks at you and he flicks lightly at your forehead. He steps on the acceleration, revving the annoying engine that roars throughout the peaceful night. The multicolored lights illuminate around his stereo and at your feet, creating the Rainbow Road right out of Mario Kart. 

Jaemin isn’t like the others who pay close attention to the details of his car. His motto goes, “if I like it, I’m going to have it.” Whether or not anything matches goes beyond his worries.

In some ways, his car is a mirror of his own personality --- wild and free, colorful and welcoming. And his skills as a driver? Safe, no matter how far the speedometer goes, Jaemin always makes you feel safe.

“I mean come inside your room for aftercare. You know how much I hate leaving you without a proper cuddle.” He pouts and almost immediately his cute baby tone comes out with his beg. Almost subconsciously, Jaemin lays his right palm open facing up to invite yours in. Almost routinely, you lace your hands to complete his hold. Getting Jaemin to smile has never been easier as his hold grows tighter.

“You can’t stay over tonight though. My housemates are doing some Single Girls Only house event tomorrow and it starts immediately when we wake up.” You laugh as the ridiculous words fill the air.

“And you’re participating in that?” Jaemin mindlessly asks and you’re unable to differentiate his implications from the question. Is he asking because the idea is horrendously nothing you’d like to do or he’s implying that you’re not single?

“Why wouldn’t I?” Sounding rather harsher than intended, Jaemin finally realizes how poorly he had worded his previous question. Yet, a part of him feels disappointment whirling in his chest and a desire to feel wanted by you.

“Doesn’t seem like something you’d like: wallowing in your singleness.” He chuckles, remaining lighthearted and playful.

“I really don’t.” Jaemin brings your knuckles up to his lips for a lingering kiss, his eyes darting quickly on the road ahead now that you’ve entered the metropolitan areas and his speed drops significantly to avoid getting ticketed.

“I’ll come pick you up. Instead of being single tomorrow, you’ll be on a date.” When you turn to examine his facial expression, the serious tension in his jawline and focused eyes alarm you. Your stomach twists into knots and if he couldn't already tell, your palms grow sweaty at his offer.

“That’s such a slap in the face to them.” Pulling your hand away from his, you cross your arms and lean your head against the cold window. “I don’t think I can do that to them.”

“I have a race tomorrow.” He starts, his head tilting over at you with his round gorgeous begging eyes, “at least, come to that with me.”

“Okay, but only because I want to see Haechan.” As if it wasn’t moments ago, Jaemin was the one balls deep in you and now you’re spewing enthusiasm for another man. It’s all a joke, a way for you to conceal your undying attraction for Jaemin.

You still remember the first time you met the sunshine that is Haechan and the jealousy that seeped from Jaemin’s words when he noticed the exchange of flirtation. Haechan is someone you’d knowingly gravitate towards: a man with a loud personality that just knows how to conduct every personality in the room. And at that moment, Jaemin couldn’t tell if being more observant was a good or bad thing.

Jaemin never saw himself as outgoing as his other friends, staying more kept in his own circle, but he had the confidence to fake it. He’s bold, rather impulsive and slightly narcissistic, Jaemin knows how to use his strengths very well. 

However, when he saw the soft smirk on Haechan’s face and your shy mannerisms, a small tinge in his chest ignited a died out flame. He didn’t realize it before, but that was the very start of his long tumble of feelings for you.

“Do you say those things to purposefully get me jealous?” Jaemin rests his hand on your thigh, giving it a harsh squeeze. His eyes never leave the road and his tone reverts back to his dominant tone.

“Well, are you jealous?” It’s like you two dance in circles, answer questions with a question does not stop.

And as bratty as your tone is, you don’t expect the quick “yes” that answers back and the smoldering look he gives you briefly before focusing back on the drive.

“Then good.” You huff, ready to hop out of the car after the odd, yet sensual tension. Jaemin pulls up to your house and double parks the car to lean in for a nightly goodbye kiss.

“You’re not coming in?” You try to read his facial expressions, but he hides his emotions too perfectly.

His lips curl into a smile before saying, “I think it’s better I cool off tonight.” And you mindlessly give him a peck, but he holds your face to deepen it. Through the kiss, you can feel the neediness by the way Jaemin shoves his tongue into your mouth. The taste of lust against your palette is difficult to ignore, but your academically responsible mind screams at you about your forgotten quiz.

Your hand lightly taps at his chest and he pulls away, his eyes drinking up your swollen lips. “I have a quiz, Jaemin.”

“I know, sorry. It’s just so easy to get lost in you.” Jaemin kisses your cheek once more before you exit. You smile back at him as his words have grown a strong effect on you lately. Bidding him goodbye, he wishes you sweet dreams as he patiently makes sure you’re fully inside your house.

“Is the music too loud?” Jaemin checks over at your hunched figure in the passenger seat. You’re diligently flipping through your thick textbook, a yellow highlighter in one hand and the other comfortably holding Jaemin’s.

The worst part of college is the never ending midterms that are given at any time. Studying in his car isn’t a rare sight, if anything it is more expected than you not doing anything related to your academics. But Jaemin genuinely doesn’t mind, even being mindful about his own actions to ensure an optimal studying space for you.

He really is an ideal guy. Like his first promise, he keeps you well fed and never once asks you for any monetary pay back. Jaemin adjusts the car temperature before you even step into the vehicle, knowing that you prefer wearing less clothes rather than more. Though he isn’t academically responsible, he still makes the effort to try and understand enough information to pass his classes.

The sole flaw would be the lack of open communication. It’s genuinely difficult for you to read his emotions or intentions. Jaemin always has a dazed look in his eyes whenever he looks at you, and it’s an internal fight about whether or not you’re being delusional.

“Music is fine, honey.” The mindless use of a pet name slips from your lips, but your concentration on neoliberalism and globalization doesn’t allow for you to notice.

Nevertheless, Jaemin catches on immediately to the usage. While he showers you in ridiculous nicknames, you’re not one to do so. “Honey?”

“Yes?” You answer back carelessly, not entirely actively listening to him as you highlight an important concept in your book.

“No, you called me honey.”

Looking up from your page, you blink at him with wide eyes and mouth slightly agape. “I did?”

Jaemin chuckles and finally pulls into the overly crowded parking lot, a whole mass of fanboys cheering at the arrival of his flashy vehicle. Everyone just loves Jaemin.

This familiar scene plays like a reel --- several high beams cast light under the dark sky due to the lack of functioning street lamps, dizzy multicolored cars that blaze the tracks, and the all too distinct smell of musky cologne in the chilly air. Oh, and the wide eye admirable stares when you get out of the car.

“Hi, you’re stunning.” A bold new recruit blinks at you in complete awe and awkwardly clears his throat once he realizes his rash comment.

Jaemin raises an eyebrow at him, then at how you plan on handling the situation. You’re flattered, nonetheless, but know that Jaemin didn’t bring you here to flirt with other men. “Thank you. I hope you enjoy your membership in the Ridin’ Club.”

The gracefulness in your delicate voice has the youthful recruit swooning and subtly giddy as he runs off to join a group of others that have been eying you across the parking lot. Jaemin casually drapes his leather jacket over your exposed shoulders, knowing the temperature change is going to result in you most likely catching a cold and because you never bring a jacket despite his plea.

“The power you hold.” Jaemin winks at you before pulling you into a larger crowd to socialize with more impressionable recruits.

“Ah, so you’re (Y/N)!” The stranger is unrecognizable, but you giggle to acknowledge his confident statement. “We haven’t met before, but Jaemin was talking about you the other night at our motorcycle meet.”

Your eyes light up, as if you’ve unlocked a new fun fact of Na Jaemin. “You drive a motorcycle too?” You’re truly shocked at the talent of this man.

Jaemin snakes his arm around your lower waist to draw you closer to his side. “Yeah, but I can’t fuck you in a motorcycle, can I?”

Before the other men can comment on the obvious sexual tension that Jaemin created, he leans in to whisper into your ear. “Actually, I can, but we’ll save our decency from unwanted exposure.” His hot breath grazes against the shell of your ear and you just know where you two are going to end up tonight.

“Bro, you guys probably fuck in the backseat of his car.” One of them chimes recklessly, punching at each others’ chest playfully as if he made a decent joke.

“Why don’t you stay to find out?” Jaemin retorts and the grip on your hip becomes tighter. You’re too flustered to add much into this odd form of competitive banter, distracted by none other than the way Jaemin keeps glancing over at you with a delicious gleam in his eyes.

“So what? You don’t care about us now?” You’d know that bratty tone from anywhere as Lee Haechan pushes past everyone else to rush over to the both of you.

“Aw, are your feelings hurt?” Jaemin sticks his tongue out at his friend before cordially sharing a handshake with him.

“Just slightly.” Haechan looks over at you with a wide grin and playful eyes, “hello, my pretty girl.”

“Drop the possessives, Haechan.” Jaemin rolls his eyes with an irritable twitch on his lips.

He hates how obviously jealous he gets. It’s something too difficult for himself to control, he’s exhausted his efforts to bite his tongue whenever it comes to other people’s flirtations. The thought of someone else calling you theirs doesn’t sit well with him.

“I understand your jealousy, Jaem. If someone was flirting with (Y/N), I wouldn’t be able to stand it either.” Haechan fixes the falling jacket on your shoulders. “But she can handle herself, I know those pretty lips have a mind of their own.” His gaze drops momentarily, yet obvious enough for you to grow shy at how strong Haechan is coming off tonight.

“Stop trying to corrupt her, that’s my job.” Jaemin playfully pushes at Haechan’s chest and they both break out laughing.

“I haven’t said one thing and you’re both talking about me as if I’m not here.” Your small pout is literally the cutest thing to Jaemin. He physically has to stop himself from planting the sweetest kiss on it.

It’s blatantly clear that you’re hot stuff. You’re the perfect example of a head turner, your captivating aura has its ability to suffocate those around you. However, Jaemin has seen all sides of you, but overall finding you so entirely cute. And oddly enough, Jaemin has a knack for cute things.

“Is that (Y/N) I hear?” Huang Renjun engulfs you in a hug, showing clear affection and doesn’t mind doing so. “How did your project go?”

“It went well. You accomplish a lot when you don’t procrastinate.” Renjun gleams at your statement and if Jaemin is delusional enough, he’d probably mistaken the twinkle in his eyes for infatuation instead of admiration.

“You’re so responsible, why are you messing with Jaemin?” Renjun sighs and though his question is more of a joke, there is some truth behind his words.

Your friendship with his friends differ immensely compared to other girls who have come around. Like Jaemin had said before, his boys were going to like you and they do, a lot. Sometimes making it obvious that you’re too good for him.

Jeno comes up from the side, an unidentifiable bruise on his neck and a new cut on his brow. Lee Jeno being such a rough character, his appearance speaks well about how his day has been.

But when he lays his eyes on you, it’s as if all his pain is replaced with joy and security. “(Y/N)! I haven’t seen you in so long!” The enthusiastic boy rushes over to greet you with a warm smile.

“I’m pretty sure I was here a week ago.” You laugh, but welcome him in your arms for a tender friendly hug and pat his head out of habit.

“It’s been a week?! That’s so long.” Jeno narrows his eyes at Jaemin and flicks his forehead.

“Ow!” Jaemin exclaims while rubbing the pain away. “You act like she doesn’t go to the same school as us and therefore, can see her any time you want to.” The tone in Jaemin’s voice raises some eyebrows as they all exchange glances to each other before bursting into laughter.

“Like your jealous ass would allow for that?” Haechan remarks and Jaemin doesn’t outwardly react. However, Jaemin’s hand is squeezing you so tight that you’re more than certain he’s bothered by the comment.

“Oh, stop it. You all know I’m Team Jaemin. He does have the most wins this past month.” You only know that through Jaemin’s proud boasting, anything else in the racing world is unknown to you.

Jaemin situates you in between his legs as he slightly sits on the hood of his car. His arms wrap around your middle and chin rests on your shoulder. Public display of affection isn’t a problem for him, and you learned much earlier that Jaemin can’t keep his hands off of you.

Renjun scoffs at your whimsical fact, in absolute disbelief. “It hurts more hearing you say it. I’m getting my car upgraded, but once it’s done, I’m going to blaze his ass on the tracks.”

“Are you racing today?” Jeno asks the blue haired fellow that clings onto you like a koala.

“Yeah, against a newbie. Apparently he’s really good, so I’m not too sure I’ll win.” Jaemin mumbles into your hair.

“You say that every time, yet you win!” Renjun crosses his arms, weight shifting to his left leg as he pops his hip out. There is always a sense of competition between anyone with Renjun.

Jaemin perks up behind you and when you turn around in his arms, you’re face to face with a beaming smile. “That’s because I have you.” Eyes lock with yours, he isn’t saying that directed to Renjun. Na Jaemin has you wrapped around his pinky, the butterflies fluttering in your stomach are too hard to ignore.

“Alright, lovebirds. Get in your car and let’s start this shit.” Haechan groans and claps his hands to draw the crowd’s attention. Cupping them around his mouth, he roars into the starry night, “let’s roll!”

During the race, Jaemin’s number one priority is to keep you safe. While you’ve sat in his car for a number of times now, it’s different once the loud bang goes off and he’s hitting 100 mph. Tonight’s track is much more dangerous, with twists and turns that can have the vehicle flying weightlessly if he’s not careful.

“You trust me, right?” Jaemin has both hands on the wheel and the engine rumbling as you both anticipate the start of the race.

Spectators watch on the sidelines as if it’s the ultimate battle, but Jaemin doesn’t pay them much mind. He’s more concerned about you instead. “Of course. If I didn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here right now. You’ve proven yourself that you’re an excellent driver, so let’s win this.”

Jaemin smirks at your encouraging words, feeling a warmth spread across his chest. “I’ll tap out any time you want me to, okay?”

You nod and the initial whip of the car is so intense that you didn’t even register the sound off. It’s not your first race, but it’s been awhile since the last one. When you adjust to the pressure, the lanes in front of you cause a slight queasiness in your stomach.

It’s a two lane windy road that wraps around the mountain side and Jaemin happens to be in the outer lane. All it takes is a second of lost control and you two will hit the metal railings that guard the cliff below. Despite your inner panic, Jaemin guides you through the pooling anxiety that leaves you restless.

“(Y/N), look up and out the window. We’re coming up on the cliff side view, I’ve always wanted to bring you here.” Your eyes land on the dazzling glitter that dances on the ripples of the lake. It’s so vast, the moon high up in the sky is reflected on the water below. It’s a romantic scene of melancholy and bliss. Suddenly, you feel at peace in the middle of this high speed race.

“It’s beautiful, Jaem.” You whisper calmly and he’d reach for your hand to hold, but races take too much wheel control. And he’d turn to look at you, but races take too much concentration on the road ahead.

But throughout every obstacle, he hears the gentleness and the solidarity in your cadence in the midst of all the high stress. He, too, feels peace. He feels calm knowing that you’re simply by his side, even in the face of danger. So, he can finally admit to himself… he genuinely developed feelings for you.

Before you know it, you’re thrusted side to side from the sharp turns and the adrenaline kicks in when the other racer catches up right next to Jaemin. “Fuck,” Jaemin curses underneath his breath and steps harshly on the acceleration. “Baby, I’m going to go a bit faster so hold onto something.” He warns and your hand finds the grab handle. It’s neck and neck at this point.

Usually, you squeeze your eyes shut to avoid becoming too overwhelmed by the sights in front of you. Tonight is different, not entirely knowing why, you’re observing every element that circles around the perimeter.

The finish line is up ahead, but there is no sign that the other racer is slowing down. Then, you see it: the fatal mistake that can cost you both of your lives if you didn’t catch it. “Jaemin, watch out!” You yelp when the other car inches dangerously close, your warning allows Jaemin to make a controlled swerve away from a possible hit.

Jaemin shakes his head and tsks at the recklessness. “Now I know why he’s good. It’s foul play.” He blows his bang out of his eyes and casually says, “thank you for warning me. This is why I need you by my side.”

He makes it to the finish line barely before the other, winning the race by half a second. Jaemin brakes smoothly, tire marks scrapping the concrete below, and you both exit the car to celebrate with everyone else.

But before the mass of eager shouting men make their way over to you two, Jaemin hurries to your side to pull you into a steamy, rewarding kiss. The scene is just like the movies; his hand on your lower back and yours on his chest lightly. His lips taste like triumph, like he had won more than just a simple race against a random stranger. He’s won the best person he could ever have.

You two fled the scene after cussing out the other racer. It was a rare sight to see: Jaemin being all bothered and angry, practically fuming after scrambling back into the driver’s seat. However, your mind had mischievous plans of its own and all it took was one look from his hooded eyes for you to announce that you wanted him --- badly.

Back in your usual abandoned parking lot, Jaemin pauses before following you to the back seats. With the engine off and the dead of the night being absolute silent, the tension remains thick around you two. “(Y/N),” Jaemin is about to confess something he never thought he’d admit. He turns to you sitting in the middle seat with just your panties on and a curious look on your face.

His heart burns and despite being so incredibly aroused, he controls his urges enough to be able to say, “I’m into you.”

“I know you’re into me, that’s how we ended up like this in the first place.” You giggle cluelessly to his words, still not understanding the odd shift in mood and intentions. It’s always his unclear, messy intentions.

Though he can’t entirely figure out his puzzle pieces, he has plenty to connect the dots. “I like you. I want to be in a relationship with you and call you my girlfriend.”

You’re stunned. Did Jaemin just confess to you as you sit in your panties ready to fuck? This softness is different from the sides you’ve seen of him. It’s similar to a lost bunny, wandering grasslands to find a purpose. He looks so fragile, one intense stare and he’d crumble. This softness is vulnerability.

“So do it.” The boldness catches him off guard, but switches on the dominance in him. “If you want me, come show it.”

He climbs over the middle console to push you into the leather seats. “Not acting shy anymore, are you?” Practically ripping your shirt off of you, he cups your breast lightly and flicks at your nipples. Your immediate reaction results in a rush of wetness down your core.

“Before I forget,” sitting up, you share a passionate kiss that you’ve held back long enough. You give it every ounce of feeling you have for him. “If it isn’t obvious enough, I like you too.”

“It’s obvious, baby.” Kissing your nose, he wraps a hand around your throat to lightly push you back down. “But hearing you say it out loud makes me happy.” Jaemin smirks, hand still choking you gently and pampering your jawline with soft kisses.

His free hand reaches down into your dripping panties, circling your clit with your wetness. The sensation causes you to whimper for more. “Daddy, give it to me.” You wiggle in his palm, knowing that the nickname is more than effective.

“My sweet (Y/N) wants to get fucked?” Jaemin rolls your underwear off and rids himself of his own bottoms.

“Yes, please.” Through the darkness, his hard dick stands proudly. Jaemin lines himself up as he thrusts into you without another second of hesitation. He waits for you to adjust to his size, his tip barely grazing your sweet spot. “Fuck…”

“You take me so well, my pretty baby.” Jaemin starts moving his hips, slowly at first to build a rhythm. Taking your legs, he presses them into your chest to fuck you at a deeper angle. And you feel him practically in your guts, his cock pumping against your walls deliciously and bumping into your g-spot. “Do you want more of me?”

Your train of thought is in utter shambles and whatever Jaemin is saying to you barely processes. You’re overwhelmed by a pleasure that fills every system, every part of your body. To answer him, you let out an incoherent noise of approval.

Jaemin pulls your hips down while thrusting forward into you, maximizing every inch of his strokes. This single action causes you to scream and grip onto the headrest. “Who knew my sweet girl could be so fucking dirty?” Jaemin chuckles darkly, his cadence dropping several decibels. “When I first met you, I wanted to ruin you.”

All of his filthy words edge you closer to your release as he continues to repeat his previous motion. He holds your hips in place to grind into you, the feeling of his tip rubbing your walls has your eyes rolling back. “Do you want to cum, (Y/N)?”

“Yes!” You yell, the tight ball in your lower abdomen is bound to break any minute. “I want to cum so badly, please.” You beg and moan, the arch in your back lifts you from the seat of the car. Jaemin snaps his hips into you, drilling you quickly to reach your high. And you break. An euphoric cry fills the air as your walls clench around his length. You hear the extra wetness create a slick noise, but Jaemin isn’t done with you yet.

“You wanted to cum so fucking badly. I’ll reward you with one more for being such a good girl for me.” His thumb flicks at your clit and you convulse into spasms from the sensitivity. Your violently shaking legs can’t hold themselves up anymore and Jaemin rests them on his shoulders. He lines kisses along your ankle as the pleasure overtakes you.

“I don’t think I can do it.” You whine, your fingers twisting and toes curling.

“You are going to try, okay baby?” He coos, but it’s most definitely a demand. He sits back on his knees to pick up more speed, fucking endlessly into your swollen pussy and thumb rubbing fast strips against your bud.

“I’m going to snap, Jaem.” You cry, tears rimming your eyes and before you know it, a second wave hits you. Your second orgasm is ruinous and has you squirming around to regain some sense of control.

“Oh fuck, you’re so beautiful.” Jaemin slows down as your walls grip around him again, tighter this time. “I’m going to fill you up with cum,--- watch it drip out of you.” He grunts while releasing into you, his dick twitching and spraying your insides with white.

He pulls out as hot, white cum spills from your pussy. You take this moment to catch your breath and relax your legs. However, Jaemin coats his two fingers and shoves the cum back into you. “Jaemin!” You exclaim at the sudden intrusion.

He curls them into your plushy walls and finger fucks you into another oblivion. “Wait, again?” Your hands wrap around his wrist, but Jaemin moves too fast for you to catch it.

You’re a moaning mess again, louder than before. Jaemin leans down and flicks his tongue against your overstimulated bundle of nerves. Your back arches automatically and a low animalistic scream rises from your throat.

He observes your body lines underneath the moonlight and the last remaining light the broken street lamps have to offer. Your face contours and you’re so far out into ecstasy that you don’t notice how intensely Jaemin watches you lose yourself.

“It feels too good!” With one last thrilling orgasm, you almost pass out and you see small stars of dizziness. He soaks up every last bit of your cathartic reaction and festers a small sense of pride that he can make you feel all this pleasure.

“Such a good girl. You’re beyond impressive, baby.” Jaemin pulls his fingers out to lick them clean and finds some wipes to help you out of your sticky situation.  

“Now that you’re my girlfriend, can we cuddle at any time now? Not just as after care.” He peers up at you and the one word enacts a burning warmth to spread across your chest. That is the best nickname he can call you by.

“I think the Singles Girls Only house event is still going on, but after that, yes a million times.” You laugh and wrap your arms around him into a big loving hug.

Jaemin feels right at home. All the long years of living carelessly and wild, he’s finally found someone worth the extra mile. While Jaemin was a thriving adventure to be explored, you were his comfort to run back to.

It is through the intimacy of your backseat chronicles that Jaemin was able to fall deeper for you. You’re his lucky charm, for some reason, he always feels better around you. 

[9tzuyu]

beauty is in the eye of the beholder

request:

college au!

note: i hope this was okay! i had a bit of trouble at first coming up with a prompt but i mixed in something of an old work and combined it into this.

also i’m not deaf, but i do have hearing issues in my left ear and i do know quite a bit of sign language. and i am using a little bit of my own experience in this, but no harm is meant to come from this fic :].

i kind of hate this im so sorry.

warnings: none i don’t think. not thoroughly proofread! all and any mistakes are mine ofc.

🏷: @c-is-writing ‹3

italics at the end are signed!

part. ii

. . .

after an hour or so of studying literature, you were beginning to feel stressed. your nerves were building and you were beginning to feel frustrated. your jaw clenched every two seconds.

you needed a break, and you needed it now.

with a small sigh, you got up and connected your phone to your speaker after double checking to make sure your roommate, natasha, wasn’t in another room.

scrolling through your playlist and picking one of your favorite songs, you pressed play and sat on the floor. you closed your eyes, allowing the vibrations to be welcomed by your other senses.

the song was rather fast paced, but it was easy to keep up with signing along thanks to a good twenty-some years of practice.

the rhythm flowed through your body, bringing immediate relaxation. it was times like these when you could fully appreciate your gift of language.

you’d had an off and on relationship with the only way you could communicate with. the world never made it easy for those with disabilities; often ridiculing, mocking, berating, and demanding they gain control over something they possibly couldn’t.

after years of speech therapy and learning how to read lips, here you were enjoying something you were taught to believe was wrong.

you were completely content with not being able to hear, and perfectly fine with the deaf label. there wasn’t anything you’d want to fix about yourself now, no one’s opinion could change that.

unbeknownst to you however, natasha was standing in the doorway watching your every little move. she was mesmerized not only by your beauty, but at how graceful and at peace you looked. she watched you sway with the music all while signing the words as the sunlight kissed your skin.

when the song came to an end, you stopped your music and moved yourself back into your position of study. but before you could completely get comfortable, your roommate put a hand on your shoulder, careful not to startle you.

you turned around in shock, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

no. no. no. there was no need for you to feel this way, especially not now. you were so sure of yourself just moments ago.

but maybe it was because she caught you by surprise that had you so worked up about it.

natasha bit her lip before grabbing a clean sheet of paper and pen from beside you.

“will you teach me? i know we’ve only practically just met a couple of weeks ago, but i’d love to get to know you better.”

you stood dumbfounded, tears starting to form in your eyes. it wasn’t until then when natasha put two and two together. she rushed closed to you, gently wrapping her arms around your body.

while doing so, she took the paper out of your hand, quickly scrambling down what she was trying to get out before pulling away.

it made for an awkward first hug, you could admit that.

“i think it’s really cool! no need to be embarrassed or anything. i promise :).”

you tried to pull yourself together. taking the paper and pen from her hands and writing down your response on your desk.

“why aren’t you laughing at me?” you slid the paper towards her. natasha’s head tilted in confusion before realizing what you’d meant by your question.

“is that what they did to you?” she whispered to herself, although she knew you could read what she was saying. not a second later you looked back up at her, nodding your head in confirmation.

with the pen still in your hand, you went to scribble out something else.

“sorry for crying, you just really caught me off guard. i didn’t think you’d be back until 5. this is normally something i do when i’m sure no one else will be around. i’m happy to teach you though.”

your roommate couldn’t help the grin on her face when she took the pen from you again.

“i’m sorry for disturbing you. no need to worry about crying, i’m not here to judge. i just think it’s a beautiful language. i’ve always wanted to learn, and now i have a reason to.”

you switched with her again.

“you know what they say, beauty comes from pain. i guess maybe that’s why gallaudet made the language.”

natasha shook her head.

“well personally, i believe beauty is in the eye of the beholder.”

. . .

+ bonus:

‘hey natty?’

‘what’s up?’

‘you look very beautiful. you always do. and i think i might just have to ask you to marry me one day.’ you signed, knowing full and well she didn’t know exactly what you were telling her.

natasha playfully huffed a bit of air. ‘i haven’t learned all of that yet, you said you’d be fair.’ you stuck out your tongue, ‘i never said i’d always be fair. besides, you know all of this, but still can’t tell when im calling you beautiful? c’mon nat, it’s a one handed movement.’

‘hey now, i know beautiful! it’s the second half i don’t know yet. maybe you should teach me that part.’

‘in time i will.’

‘i’m practicing as much as i can, you know.’

‘i know nat, but look how far you’ve come already! just from five months ago! you’re unbelievably talented, and you’re learning at a much faster rate than i ever did. you don’t give yourself enough credit.’

natasha tugged you by the arm and pulled you in for a kiss.

‘cutie.’

‘that’s you, of course.’

‘if i’m so cute then tell me what you said, please? you know i can’t google that. or at least i don’t know how to- yet.’ she paused, adding a pout at the end of her statement.

‘i’ll tell you when i know it’s the right time.’

‘you’re a pain in my ass, you know that, right?’

‘i wake up every day and make it my number one priority, of course i know, natasha.’