#my mental health has been shit enough lately and now i see how easy they forget about me.

[kuroakikitsune]

.

[thecapricunt1616]

Hello everyone! I am truly sorry for not posting as of late. I’ve been dealing with mental health stuff, also my laptop got broken :( So it hasn’t been as easy to write. I do have my iPad/wireless keyboard, but it just isn’t as comfortable to write on / I worry that the format will look like shit. I do feel poorly though because all of my moots have been writing a lot lately, and my blog has been so dry! I am really trying to get my mental health in check so obtaining a job will be easier and in turn, my work will probably be (somewhat) better. I hope this suffices, though, for the time being. I promise I’m trying to get a new laptop just as soon as I can <3 I appreciate all of your patience with me :) I have never written for our darling prince Lip Gallagher before- but he has been making me fairly crazy lately, so I wanted to give my go at writing for him, I haven’t watched the college Lip ep’s in a while so I hope it’s alright - sorry if it’s not fully canon! Tell me how I did if you’d like! xoxo - Capri <3 :)

(Warnings - smut choking (consensual) unprotected PIV sex, not very edited or proof read bc im tired ❤️❤️❤️)

”Hump my fuckin leg one more time, I swear to god. If you don’t just sit in my fuckin’ lap, and behave y’not gonna like me. I told you, I have 3 more fuckin’ papers to grade- like a cat in fuckin’ heat” he grumbled, not looking up from the homework assignment he’d been grading for the professor he’d been working under.

You pouted, squeezing his thigh that you had been straddling and working your way up to fully dragging your swollen, needy cunt across his worn out denim beneath your flower printed panties. A frustrated huff leaved your lips, before connecting them with the warm, tobacco scented skin of his neck and planting a gentle kiss. “Wanna feel good, Lip. Y’bein mean” you said, voice quiet and laced with the neediness he couldn’t quite ignore, or deny.

“Jesus fucking Christ. Fine, Need a smoke anyway. But you want it so bad, you can fuckin’ get y’self off” he walked over to the dorm window, pushing it open to let out the smoke out and put a cigarette to his lips, lighting it and plopping down on the bed, popping the button of his jeans. You were sat there dumbly, jaw dropped at the fact that he didn’t put up more of a fight. ”You have until the end of this fuckin smoke. You gonna come do somethin’ er sit there lookin’ like a goddamn trout?” He teased.

You quickly got up, pushing him to lay down and tugging his cock just enough out of his jeans and boxers, spitting in your hand before beginning to stroke him quickly, thumbing over his sensitive tip and he grunted softly, smoke plooming out of his nose as he plucked the cigarette from between his lips. “see that fuckin wet stain you left on my jeans? Such a needy whore f’me yeah?” He mused, watching as you pumped him faster, mouth dropping slightly as he hardened in the pressure of your palm until he was throbbing.

”Only yours -“ your jaw falls slack as you ran the tip of his cock through your wet folds, gathering your arousal and using his tip to rub over your clit. His eyes nearly rolled back, putting the cigarette between his lips and taking another large drag. He looked down as you rutted your hips back and forth over his thick now throbbing length.

“Only half a cig left, kitten. You gonna get y’self off with it er’ just fuck around, ‘eh?” He asked impatiently. You rolled your eyes sassily, aligning him with your entrance and sitting back, a whimper leaving your throat since you hadn’t the time to get yourself fully ready for him and the stretch he provided was never anything you could adjust to no matter how many times you took it.

A small grunt left his throat, hips rutting up into you subconsciously a gasp left your throat as he shifted his hips forward, rutting into that most sensitive and spongey spot inside of you that made white stars form behind your lids and your thighs shake. You whine as your head fell back, hips trembling as you lifted yourself up and down over his cock. “Jesus- so fucking big….” You manage to get out, bringing a trembling hand down to play with your puffy, throbbing clit.

”Finally feel good? Hm? Little fuckin’ brat. Shoulda fucked your face instead mm? Bet you’d love that shit” he reached over and put out his mostly gone cigarette on the ash tray and you began furiously rolling your hips, worried he was gonna pull you off and tell you that it was time for him too get back to work.

”Yes- yes daddy, such a brat- your brat. Please- please let me finish- feel so good- please” you rambled, voice needy and begging. He huffed a nearly mocking chuckle, grabbing you by the throat and pushing you down onto the mattress. It wasn’t painful, it just cut off your blood flow just right to where there was this sweet, fuzzy feeling in your head, causing your vision to go slightly hazy around the edges.

“I’ve created a fuckin monster - huh? Addicted t’my cock now. Can’t even go 12 hours without gettin’ filled up.” He was practically speaking into your sweaty, flushed skin of your temple, His voice a gruff row grumble. He used his other hand to rut up your tshirt, palming your tit roughly and rolling your nipple between his fingers. You squeaked out, hips jerking at the motion which urged him deeper and made your eyes roll at the overstimulation.

”shit - like that, huh? You like that? When I pound you this fuckin’ deep?” He snapped his hips faster, short, sweet little ah-ah-ah squeaks being torn from your throat with each nearly punishing thrust. You nod quickly, looking up at him in awe stricken lust as you clench around him.

“Ohh are you gonna cum? Is my little fuckin brat gonna cum? Mmm? You gonna cum around my cock?” He taunts in the shell of your ear, the hand that was playing with your nipple sliding down to play with your clit as the other stated wrapped firmly around your throat. Your hips jerk, feet planting on the bed as your back arches while your body tries to escape the oncoming tidal wave of pleasure that was threatening to take over.

“Mmhmm. Y’gonna cum- feel you fuckin’ milking my cock- go ahead baby - let go” he goads as he stroked your twitching bud faster. You let out something akin to a sob, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes and breath hitching as your vision blurs out momentarily, body going slack other then your trembling thighs, and nails that were slapping and clawing at Lips back as he drives you through it, his thrusts becoming sloppier and harder at the feeling of you pulsating around him like a second heartbeat and your creamy white arousal seeping around him and covering his cock with each thrust.

“That’s fuckin it- that’s it kitten” he groaned, spreading out your pussy with a slack jaw, watching as his cock punched in and out of you, rutting against your g spot each and every time - in turn causing pathetic pleas for you weren’t sure what coming from your throat.

“Please what, baby- want me to fill you up? Hm? Need my cum drippin outta’ you after I fuck you to sleep here so I can finish my fuckin work in peace?” He coos mockingly, tugging you by your hair forcing you to look at him.

You sniffled, tears seeping from the corners of your eyes pathetically and drool dribbling down your chin from how he was fucking you so good your tongue had nearly fallen out of your mouth like some kind of puppy - “s-sorry- jus’love your- your cock” you hiccuped an over stimulated sob as he used his thumb abuse the nub further which in turn caused another strangled moan to leave your throat and head to fall back to the pillow.

“Awww I know Angel. You take it so well- like a good little toy” he mumbled into your skin, his words causing you to clench and dribble around him slightly, the raspiness of his voice mixed with the praise doing something to you you couldn’t quite explain.

“So good- so good daddy m’so good” you cry out as he fills you up, cock twitching and pulsing between your walls in the most delicious way. You gasped in delight, wrapping your legs tight around his hips and tugging your pelvis’ taut and comfortably, enjoying the feeling of being filled up to the hilt.

“Got shit t’do as much as I wanna live in your cunt, baby. Gotta get back at it” he kissed your forehead, grabbing a T shirt from his laundry pile and tossing it to you to clean yourself up as he fixed his jeans and went to sit back at his desk, leaving you well satiated

All be it a little sore and wanting post sex snuggles,

You win some, you lose some.

[timeoverload]

I am having a bad mental health day but I have been trying not to show it to anyone. I feel like I'm running a never-ending marathon and I don't want to keep going. I am so tired.

I have also been up since 3:30 because the foxes were screaming and they didn't shut up for over an hour. I couldn't go back to sleep and I was so mad. There are so many foxes in the neighborhood now and I see them all the time during the day. I'm not sure if I mentioned last week that I saw the black and white cat and the fox fighting in the neighbor's yard again. The fox actually swatted at the cat and I had to go out there. I know the dogs aren't a fan of them either because they are barking at them a lot. I'm pretty sure the foxes have eaten most of the rabbits which is sad. My neighbors up the street used to have chickens but I think they gave up on trying to keep them because the foxes kept attacking them. I think it's really cool to see them since there weren't any living in this area when I was a kid but they are also driving me crazy. I suppose I will have to learn to live with it.

I thought the past 2 days were going to be easy like Monday was but I was wrong. I have probably wrapped about 60 total pans and I've had to load and unload a lot of autoclaves. My back is killing me.

I was getting irritated this morning because we had a ton of total pans to get wrapped and I was the only one working. The morning team lead was there and he was just watching me work while he talked about firearms. He is incapable of talking and working simultaneously. Once more people started showing up, they did the same thing he was doing. I guess I just get frustrated when I'm the only person showing any initiative. I would describe myself as a self-starter and i just want to get shit done. I don't need to wait for anyone to tell me what to do most of the time.

This afternoon we had to change the decontamination process for the eye pans again. We are trying to speed up the process by removing instruments from the pans that don't get used all the time so there is less to wash. We are going to have to wrap all of the items that we are taking out separately so they can open them as needed. I am going to be wrapping a lot of extra shit now. That can be a lot more tedious on busy days. I also have to modify all of the baskets that the instruments go in so that they can be placed directly into the ultrasonic without removing the mats. The rubber mats can interfere with the cavitation process in the ultrasonic so we have to cut them into small sections and attach them with zip ties. It's kind of hard to explain the whole process. We wouldn't have to go through all of that work if they would buy special pans for the eye instruments. I know that wouldn't be cheap but I know that they can afford to considering how many surgeries we do a year. We do more eye surgeries than anything else but they don't seem to want to invest in it.

We don't have enough instruments for all of the surgeries we do and that puts a lot of pressure on us. I'm tired of people getting frustrated with us for not having stuff done in time. There have also been a lot of priority turn-overs the past couple days since we have been busy.

I also think it's stupid to have 2 separate surgery centers in one building too. We have to send instruments back and forth because neither facility has enough stuff and things get lost constantly. I have been doing a lot more work for them lately so I feel like I am getting used. I'm basically employed by 2 different facilities now. I wish they had never moved in because things were so much better before that happened.

I really don't want to go to work tomorrow. I am going to have to drag myself out of bed. I have 32 cases and I'm dreading it but I hope it won't be as bad as I expect. The eye coordinator was nice enough to help me with some stuff today and she said she would tomorrow too so that makes me feel a little better. I'm still glad that she and I are getting along much better than we used to since she used to hate me. I don't feel like I have to walk on eggshells so much anymore and we were joking around so that's good. I should have a couple other people there that can help too so I think it will be ok. I probably should stop thinking about that now.

I haven't heard anything else from my mom so I have no idea what is going on with her. I think the main reason she contacted me at all was because she was trying to find someone to send her $40 for a carton of cigarettes. She says she misses her kids but she doesn't really give a shit about anyone but herself. I understand that she is sick but she wasn't really there for me as much as she should have been when I was little either. I remember staying up late at night waiting for her to get home from the bar so I could say goodnight to her when she got home. She was usually out late and would come home super drunk. I didn't understand what was going on at the time so it was hard for me. I'm glad my dad stayed home with me a lot. I don't know why I started thinking about that today. I just wish things were different.

I don't feel like doing anything the rest of the night as usual. I should probably try to conserve my energy. I had to go to bed at 9:30 last night even though I wanted to watch tv. I didn't sleep very well. I wonder how much better I would feel if I wasn't sleeping on this shitty bed. I suppose I should be grateful I even have a bed and I will get a new one eventually. I don't really have a lot of positive things to say right now. I'm sorry for being such a crab today. I think I need to go get ready for bed soon and relax. Hopefully that will help me feel better. I will try to have a good day tomorrow.

I hope everyone else has a good day tomorrow too! :) 💖💖💖

[bl6ckr0s3]

Time To Move

I had my first therapy session with Ivy Jeffries last weekend which felt refreshing and a relief. I got to tell her a little bit about myself and why I am there. There's a good chance that she may end up ending her contract with the current insurance that my job is working with that pays for my therapy sessions. Sadly, they are only paying for 6 sessions for free, and if I continue to seek therapy after that, then I would require health insurance that would cover it. I may not have to use therapy beyond the 6 sessions since my anxiety has not been as bad. I mention to Ivy that I only get anxiety really bad when my son's father starts fights with me for no good reason which triggers it because of the abuse I have tolerated with him for a long time. On top of all the shit I have tolerated in my past relationships and the less affectionate and somewhat of a verbal abuse from my father since I was a kid, it has sort of taken a toll on me mentally which is another reason why I am seeking therapy. I told her that I am not really there for a real resolution, just that I needed it to be on the record that I am seeking help and that I needed a professional to be there to listen to my stories to show that I am not alone fighting my life battles, just wanted to be on the record for court purposes as well so that they take me seriously when I really did go through a lot of shit with my son's father in the past.

Looks like the time of staying at the Extended Stay America is up. Josh has not worked for a few days the way he should be to help out with our rent, so therefore we ended up being behind again. As the rent bill has gone up and we were lucky enough to receive help from his good friend Bobby who has saved us many times, with him feeling bad and that he promised to work hard the way he should so that we can get out of our hole. Rather than to spend more money trying to catch up on our rent here, and talking about how we wanted to decide to move to a town that we have became fond of, we decided to make the move there as in the future we may plan on getting a permanent home around that region someday we are able to. The town is not overcrowded like Nashville sort of is, and is not bad with the cost of living. Their cost of living is pretty affordable as I have searched around through several apartment complexes and it's nice to see that maybe someday I might be able to help afford to buy us a house once I pay off my TSP retirement loan. We might have a good chance of being able to buy a home in 2-3 years depending on where we are at by then. To keep it private, we do plan on leaving this hotel since the manager has been getting on us every week as we been sort of late. We been fortunate that they literally haven't locked us out of our room or just kicked us out to the streets, it's better this way that we leave elsewhere and start over again. I told Joshua that even if I have to get a 2nd part time job to get us by temporarily, I will if I truly have to even though I really don't want to.

I have plans and I been really dwelling on this thought for awhile. Many employees has told me that I should get into maintenance. I was fortunate enough to get a 955 exam booklet from a clerk that works on the automation machines by my tray line. She said that somebody she knew emailed it to her a few years back, but she definitely wasn't interested in it. I was telling her about it and she helped me out majorly so now I have something I can read and study from before I can plan on taking the exam one day. The female maintenance worker from tour 2 told me that they have made the test so easy now that even dumb people can pass the test. Well, if that's the case there's no reason why I can't pass this test, right? If I can get through the exam and interview, I will have to go to their 2 week training program in Oklahoma. If I can get a job in maintenance, I can start off being paid as a level 7. Even if I can just get paid just to vacuum one of the machines, that's easy money. There is 0 drama with the maintenance dept. All these years of working with my company, it seems like maintenance don't have to worry about dealing with any drama. At the same time, I'll be able to continuously learn how to fix something and I can apply this knowledge to my personal life where it will give me the ability to fix things in my own house if I need to. I have a slight mechanical background in the automotive industry so I should fit right in. The sad thing is going through the process from a different craft will take awhile because they have to go through the seniority list of custodians first. They are only paid level 3, so there is no way I am downgrading that low to try to get into maintenance.

I have an opportunity to shoot a popular band member's wedding. During the day when Joshua was recording vocals for 'The Dying', he mentioned to us about a friend who is looking for a photographer to shoot his wedding. He told him that he's pretty much burnt out doing weddings every weekend and he would've charged at least $2k and his friend didn't realize that he charges that much for the work and the amount of time spent to edit the photos. I don't really charge that much for editing, but I would love to do it for $460 considering it will definitely be an all day job. I am giving them a good deal if they give me this opportunity to shoot. At the same time, if they don't pick me to do their shoot, I would completely understand as I am not sure if I am ready to shoot a big wedding even though I have only done one a couple of years ago. I have to put some links together and send it to Jeremiah's way to forward to his friend to check out my work. I been too busy since then to send him anything yet. This is my chance to get more practice of my work, but we shall see what happens.

I have paid almost $4k off from the $15k loan I borrowed from my retirement that was used to get into an apartment in North Hollywood. Once it is paid off, I want to take out $20k to see if it can help us buy a small house for us in the future. We deserve this...

[katsutacle]

I'm sorry Katsu but I'm going to be really blunt: you need to stop being spineless. You did nothing wrong and continuing to bring attention to anon complaints on your public accounts just makes all the harassments you receive worse and it's so concerning to see from an outsider's perspective.

Whenever I look at your Twitter now it's just you spiraling because an anon said something, and when you look at the responses to it, all of your friends try to help you understand that to them, you did nothing wrong. Why do you care about what anons think? You made it and enjoyed it with your friends. It's a collab effort between you and the people who are your friends or love the ship.

Stop giving into the awful shit that anons say. I'm just worried for you because your mental health has been spiraling as of late.

Sorry anon, yeah I haven't been mentally well lately at all. My meds were jacked up recently because I start having suicidal thoughts. Tbh it's just overall a panic inducing moment everytime I get an anon ask these days :')

I'm cowardly, I know....I just don't want to hurt anyone , and hearing over and over that "maybe you're a bad person!" Hurts more when it's from people who seem to mean well, who I want to befriend in this community. I'm cowardly because I just don't pack up and leave but I don't want to :( I have so many dear friends here :(

Having drama every month or so is really starting to take toll on my mental stability tbh, I just want to get back to the time that I was just goofing around with my friends.

I don't know how to ignore these when it's confirmation to my self hateful thoughts that I'm just rotten to the core and should end it. Especially when it comes from people who seem to mean well? I can't even classify it as hate and brush it off, now it just sits on my conscience forever

Maybe the fact that I'm being suicidal over these kind of inconsequential matters is proof that I'm not strong enough to survive this world anyway.... it'd be so easy to walk onto the busy road right now, but don't worry, I'm too much a coward to do that

[dzpenumbra]

11/22/22

Big wrench in the works today. It turns out that driving your car once every 2 months for like a year... or 3... is not good for it. After all the shit to get to this point, my car did not pass inspection. And the bill will be very pricey. And the parts will take time to be delivered and installed.

I lucked out that they had one rental car. I have it in my driveway now. I'm going to have to go to the new place tomorrow for the move-in appointment, it's going to be a big day. I'm really hoping I can get good sleep, I have not been sleeping well at all the past few days and I've been nodding off the past few hours just trying to stay awake long enough to get my cat her night time meds.

I'm realizing that moving is going to be a much more complicated process than I was really processing. Mostly because of the cat medication thing. I managed to reassure my mom that she was capable of giving my cat the medication, and had her come over and do a test run just to reassure both of us. It's an ointment in the ear, it's actually really easy, Max really doesn't mind that much. It took a bit of a fight to get there, she kept trying to pressure hiring movers on me... but I just... I just really don't like the idea. I've talked about it on here before. Once we got over that hurdle and boundaries were clearly explained, things started to level out. She came over to dry-run the meds, saw it was pretty simple and checked out my new arsenal of polished stones and handmade beads. She was genuinely impressed, it was a good feeling.

But this set in another complication. Though she made herself available to help, after a week of silence recovering from major fights, now... she is going to be out of town for the holidays. At least, that's the plan. So... she won't be able to cover me for the cat meds. So I get to drive up tomorrow, move some stuff in... probably musical instruments I don't use, I don't really know what else, maybe just etc art supplies and shit. Whatever I can throw in my car quickly in the AM because there aint no way I'm packing my car right now. Probably not much. Then I'm coming back home... then I'm chilling here for another 2 days... Then I get to try to start moving again.

I'm going to have to check with my old landlords to make sure me staying extra time is going to be okay. Taking that week for mental health and recovering from fights and packing and all that was vital but completely fucked my timeframe. I was supposed to start moving in on the 15th. It's very hard to not be upset about that. The "could have been's". (Thank you for that one, Flex)

So... since I'm running on fumes... I'm trying to just not stress and just take my time. I don't think I have as many possessions as I fear I do. My mom offered to help me drive stuff up and even help move some stuff if there is an elevator. I'm not going to get into how confusing it is when she goes back and forth, but... yeah. The more important offer was some (at least temporary) storage space in her basement, so if there's anything I don't want to be wasteful and throw out... I can at very least just get it out of this place and decide what to do with it later. That option is awesome.

So a big new weight dropped, and another lifted. I'm just taking it one step at a time and seeing where things go. I did check out this portal thing that they have for the building, and they have like... profiles you can fill out for your apartment... like a social media profile or some shit? So I browsed out of curiosity and yes, the people who live there actually look like civilized human beings and not demonic hell-beasts who want to steal my shit and eat my cat, so that's pretty reassuring!

My anxiety has been at an all-time high lately, like... lifetime all-time high... in that it's hard to discern between anxious threats and real threats. They both exist, but the likelihood of both seem equal. Like... the likelihood of me accidentally hitting a curb because I don't know how the new rental car drives, and the likelihood of me having some kinda of Final Destination car accident feel like... on even standing, equal likelihood. And that's just flat-out wrong. So I guess that's just a survival-mode thing, so if you're going through that too, just like... be nice to yourself, try to gather a bit more information, try to get perspective from someone you trust not to judge you, and try to recalibrate a bit. That's what I'm trying, it's not easy work but it does pay off.

And my nighttime safe place routine thing is going pretty damn well. Falling asleep is still pretty easy. It's just the super vivid dreams that are fucking with me. Screw it, I've got some time, I'll share today's dilemma.

The end of my second dream last night was me in a workshop of some kind with Devin Townsend. A mentor figure. We were working at stations next to each other, no clue on what, and I was praising him for a really interesting box set concept piece he came up with. He reciprocated by getting to know me a bit. He said I struck him as the "athletic type", which... kinda took me aback. I started to tell him, "no, not really, I mean I just started skating again, and I barefoot hike a lot, like... a lot. But athletics are definitely not my thing." And I started to tell him I was a creative, an artist... Big pressure because, you know, he might have some work for an artist...

And it just pulled me out of sleep. Big adrenaline surge. I started doing diaphragmatic breathing - I legit seriously recommend this to anyone that gets physical symptoms from anxiety or panic attacks, it really helps calm down physical panic responses and quickly too. I was totally fine in like less than a minute, but my sleep-deprived ass was like... explaining to the ceiling what I do. And I really identified that this is a really big point of social anxiety for me. I would have so much more peace in my social interactions if I just had one fucking title and that's all I did. Me name Bob, me plumber. Done. GG. Simple. But nooooooo...

"Well, I am a multimedia artist, I specialize in pencil, colored pencil and ink, but I'm not limited to traditional mediums. I do music and poetry as well, in fact some would consider those my primary mediums. I have a degree in... Acrylic Painting, for some goddamn reason. I am a former tattooist... kinda... And despite all the above, I am currently working on wood-carving, stone-carving and jewelry making with locally sourced materials." Literally every time I try to nutshell this for people, their brains start melting out of their ears by the second sentence. So I started nutshelling it to condense it, but I always end up leaving stuff out. So now... when I meet new people... the first question I get is: "What's your name?" (sometimes I don't even get that, sometimes it's "How long have you lived in the area?") Which really doesn't have a simple answer when you currently go by 4 different names, and no one says any of them out loud to you. Then the second question, like clockwork, is: "What do you do?"

My remedy for this from now on. I'm going to do what my tattoo teacher taught me, with a twist. She said "get a tattoo of your own design in a visible location." So I inked my own wrist. It was the hardest tattoo I have ever done. But instead of doing that, for this... if someone asks what I do... I'm just going to point to my jewelry, or my custom clothing. And just add in the addition: "I do a lot of other shit, too."

Hopefully that will let me sleep at night!

[bitchlessdino]

a sticky situation

Pairing: fuckboi!sseokmin x gn!reader

Genre: smut

Word count: 800+

tags: degradation, name calling, praise kink, oral fixation, blow job, hair pulling, uncertainty

Summary: You knew a man as perfect as Lee Seokmin, he was way too good to be true.

author note: hiii, it’s been a hot minute. I’ve had the thought of two faced seokmin since last year and only had the courage to write it now. My mental health has been honestly not the best so my writing has not been as of consistent lately. I really hope that’ll change with the change I’m making in my routine. Thank you for your patience guys.

You didn’t think you’d be overthinking over a man, but the man in question was Seokmin. He was positively delicious to look at and had a voice that could move mountains. He lights up every room with ease, welcomes everyone with a smile, and is disliked by no one. He was essentially the perfect man in almost every way possible. At least that’s what you’ve always thought until now.

“Mmh, your mouth looks so pretty wide and open.”

His fingers paw at your lips, a thumb swiping across your lips before pushing it between them. You welcome it with ease. Eyes oozing with want, you patiently wait for his clear instruction. His lips parted slightly watching yours at work, coddling his thumb in your mouth shamelessly. He always found it easy to get you to succumb to him.

“I’ve been thinking about this all day, wondering when will be the next time l get to use this again.”

He pulls his thumb away, smug when you pout as a result. His hand begins to trace along your jaw and grip from under your chin. “Good thing you answered my call when you did. I have a lot of things I wanted to do with you.”

Your eyes flutter up at him, soft gasping closes the gap between your lips and his. He kisses you with such force, you're short of your own breath and feel your body fall defenseless in his sheets. Barely managing to sit up, you grip the duvet underneath you with dear life, your heart pounding like a loud drum in your chest. His tongue, thick and hot, explores your mouth with no resistance from your end. He dips your knee into the bed, crawling over your body.

“S-Seokmin…don’t keep me waiting,” you moan.

“Just waiting to get that signal from you.” He unbuckles his belt and tugs his pants off in sonic speed.

Comically, you stretch your mouth, ensuring you’re ready for what happens next. The man before you chuckles. He found it weird the first time you did when you did, but lucky for you, he found it sexy how hard you try.

“You’re so cute when you warm yourself up for me.”

His cock stiff in his hand, he strokes and sees your hand replace his. You salivate, scooting closer, and close your mouth around the tip of his cock. Like every time, it’s bigger than you could handle, but that’s never scared you before. 

You push it past your lips and have your cheeks squeeze around his girth. Your eyes flutter up at him, the familiar bliss of his cock blocking your airways, having for you depend on your nose for oxygen.

His hips rock back and forth in your mouth, thrusting in your mouth to a highly favorable pace. His hands roam through sections of your hair, pulling it against your scalp, and pushing it down on his length. “Your mouth feels so good. Like a good little slut.”

The faster I got, the louder Seokmin got. He was ecstacy inducing. The sweat on his brow, how his messy hair hits his line of vision, and even the clenching of his abdomen; you still get surprised by how incredible he looks naked. The good boy act he does all the time does straight out the wonder when he stuffs your mouth. You hum around him, drool out of the corner of your mouth, drunk on lust. 

“Shit, do that again, but louder. Wetter.”

You follow his orders, shamelessly moaning his name incoherently, hearing Seokmin announce how gets closer and closer. Your chin glistening in your spit, lubing Seokmin’s cock perfectly, and just enough to get that unique taste that Seokmin finds home down your throat. It was warm, filling, it made you feel how it always did: leave you wanting more.

“You’re such a good cumslut. Come sit on my lap.”

Seokmin readjusts his body, sitting up on the bed. Pulling on your arm, he makes you straddle his lap. He wiped away the cum, lingering from your face, “You got something there. I told you before you shouldn’t waste a drop, didn’t I?”

He sticks the cum wiping finger in your mouth, giggles releasing from you the moment he does. “Mmh. Thank you.”

“Of course.”

He leans in for another kiss before you stop him, hands on either of his shoulders, “Um, I wanted to ask you something.”

“What do you want to know,” he asks with a welcoming smile.”

“What are we…exactly?”

He gives you a puzzled look. “We’re us. What do you mean?”

“I just…” you shifted in his lap anxiously, “We’ve been fucking around a while. I just…want to know where this is going.”

And there’s where your problems laid.

He tucks a strand of hair back behind your ear, squeezing the flesh of your thighs, all before smiling intoxicatingly the way he does. “Baby, you know I like you. There’s no need for labels. Aren’t you happy with how we are?”

“Right…yeah, sure.”

[fkingsteverogers]

This Feels Like Falling In Love

Summary: Talking to your husband has never been your strong suit. 

Word Count: 1.6k

Featuring: two idiots In Love who don’t know it, Bruce Wayne is charming and very horny actually, PR relationships, questionable changes in POV, and questionable titles

Tagging: @clints-lucky-arrow bc they were supportive 

“—the mental health of my late mother-in-law was, and continues to be, the business of nobody but the Wayne Family, her loved ones, and her health care team. The fact it is being sensationalized is disgraceful.” 

“Dr. Wayne, can you—“ the tv snaps off before the reporter can finish her sentence. “Thought you might watch.” Bruce turns to see you, dressed elegantly and holding a tray of food. You’re the only person besides Alfred who can actually sneak up on him. It’s part of why he picked you from the long list of marriage candidates the Wayne Enterprises PR team gave him. That and the fact that you’re so beautiful it actually hurts. 

Why you agreed to marry him he’ll never understand. It’s not about the money, you make enough as Gotham's environmental consultant. And it can’t be his sparkling personality. 

“Dory was just bringing up some sandwiches. I told her I would do it. I think she thinks we’re going to fuck because she’s vacuuming the spotless downstairs instead of polishing the banister outside.” Bruce smiles, actually smiles, and picks up a sandwich from the tray you set down. You perch yourself on the arm of his desk chair, dangerously close to sitting in his lap. Your proximity makes his skin ripple with electricity. He wants to reach out and touch you, to feel your creamy soft skin under his fingertips. 

He wants to hear you gasp and moan as he thrusts into you. 

“Bruce? Are you listening?” Your question shakes him out of his fantasies. “…no.” You make an annoyed little huff and frown down at him. It would be so easy to just reach up and pull you down into his lap, to feel you pressed against him. It’d be so easy to slip a hand between your legs and…shit, he got distracted again.

 “I asked you how you’re feeling about…” you trail off and gesture towards the now black tv. He shrugs and takes a bite of his sandwich. In truth, the things they’re saying about his parents makes his blood boil. It makes him want to storm into the studio and beat up the reporters. Instead of admitting that he goes for a neutral: “I’m happy you’re dealing with it.” 

You shrug and take a sandwich. “It’s what you hired me for, is it not?” It’s Bruce’s turn to frown at you. “Don’t make that face at me, Alfred hired me to be your wife. I’m doing my job.” The way you nonchalantly mention that you’re not really his wife knocks the air out of Bruce’s lungs. Legally speaking, you are married. A little over a year and a half ago you’d become Dr. Wayne in a large ceremony neither of you really wanted. Someone had to Keep Up Appearances and he couldn’t be bothered. 

“Don’t do that.” 

You hadn’t meant to sneak up on Bruce, truly. You’d meant to knock before you heard your own voice. The anger had washed over you and before you could contemplate politeness, the tv was off and you were staring at Bruce. You’re always a little shocked by how pretty he is when you see him for the first time in a long time. His intense, intelligent eyes always surprise you. You always get the impression he’s looking straight into your soul. Would he like what he sees? 

You set down the tray, it’s sliver because of course it fucking is, in the middle of your explanation. You watch Bruce’s eyes glaze over. With anyone else, you’d be offended if they stopped listening mid sentence. Bruce is different, Bruce is out of practice with human interaction. His explanation (or lack of) of his feelings might as well require a translation. Good thing you’re fluent in all things Bruce Wayne. Instead of piecing out exactly what he’s feeling about this revelation, you goad him. 

The fact that W.E. PR arranged your marriage bothers him. It bothers him even more when you remind him of this fact. “Don’t do what, Bruce? Remind you of the truth? Remind you I’m no better than the working girls at the Iceberg?” What exactly you want out of this conversation is a mystery to even you. Why you’re furious at him is also a mystery. His eyes flare at your comment, his anger clear. “You know I didn’t ask them to find me a wife.” His tone is dark with undercurrents of his true anger. You shouldn’t push him any further. 

You do.

“And yet you’re happy to let me manage the Wayne legacy. You’re happy to take me to bed and fuck me like I’m your wife.” 

The storm that rushes over Bruce’s face makes it clear you pushed too far. “You are my wife.” “Only when you need me, Bruce.” Being this close to him is suddenly too much. The space between your arms sparkles with electricity and if you don’t get out of there, you’re going to let him bend you over the desk. You stand a little too quickly in your rush to get a safe distance away and almost topple over into his lap. His hand on your elbow steadies you. Sparks rush up your arm and it only makes you angrier, irrationally angry. You rip your arm away from him and manage to throw yourself more off balance. Before you can fall to the floor, Bruce catches you in a perfect dip.  

It’s a romance novel worthy scene, you in the arms of your husband, caught mid fall during a heated argument. In the romance novel, you’d look up at him, your anger forgotten. He’d look down at you, concern evident in his face. A moment of silence would pass before he would bend to kiss you and any anger either of you had would be forgotten for the passion of kissing the man you love. 

Instead, you stomp on his foot and he drops you. 

Thankfully, you’d chosen to make your little scene on the rug so you don’t hit the hard stone floor of his bedroom. Bruce looks down at you, betrayed by your assault. You look up at him, defiant from your place on the floor. The ensuing starting contest feels like it lasts forever. You break first. “I’m sorry.” He frowns down at you and holds out a hand. “Don’t apologize, you did a good thing.” You take his hand and he pulls you up. There’s a moment where you two just look at each other, still holding hands, before he clarifies. “Defending my mother, I mean. Thank you.” You shake your head in disgust and drop his hand like it’s scolding. “Your father basically had someone killed and all anyone cares about is your mother’s mental health.” You’re muttering more to yourself than talking to him. Thankfully Bruce doesn’t comment as he sits back down. You sit down in the chair across from him. It’s a safe distance away and you feel like you can breathe, “I don’t regret saying yes, Bruce. I do not regret becoming your wife. I just…” you trail off. You wish it had been Bruce’s choice. You wish you had been Bruce’s choice. You wish he really loved you, you wish you could be Dr. Wayne in more than name only. 

Instead of actually talking about your feelings, you blurt out what you’d come here to tell him about in the first place. “They told me I should get pregnant, you know.” His head snaps up and anger rushes back across his face. “I went to our quarterly meeting with the PR team, you missed it by the way, and they said I should get pregnant. If we conceive in the next two months we can feasibly announce on our second wedding anniversary and the baby will be born around your father’s birthday. Even better if we have a boy and name him Thomas Wayne II.” 

Bruce, as usual, says nothing. You fidget in the silence. Would having a baby with you be that bad? “I told them we could adopt a circus kid or something and they just looked at me like I was crazy.” Your suggestion makes him snort. A few agonizing moments pass in silence. With your anger done, you’re suddenly exhausted. “I should go, I’m sure you have other things to do…” 

“Stay.” The word stops you in your tracks. It’s more commanding than he’d prefer but it has its intended effect. “I’d like you to stay.” 

You give him a curious look. “And do what, exactly?” 

“I would like to…talk.” You laugh and the sound goes right to his cock. He’d been behaving himself, thinking of designs for his suit to prevent getting embarrassingly hard from just having you there. Your laughter makes it impossible for him to behave himself. “Bruce, this is the most you’ve said to me in six months.” You pick up the umbrella you’d laid on the bed and shrug on your coat. “You don’t talk. We don’t talk. You come over, we fuck, and you disappear.” Before you can turn and open the door, he grabs your umbrella and lays it back on the bed. He gently slides the coat off your shoulders, pressing kisses to the newly exposed skin. “Then dance with me.” 

You laugh again but it’s shakier, less sure. “Dance? There’s no music.” Bruce reluctantly lets go of you and crosses the room to turn on a record player that had been his father’s. He can feel your eyes on him and it makes heat bloom across his cheeks. “Bruce…” He pulls you flush against him, one hand resting respectfully on the small of your back and the other clasped in your much smaller hand. Your arms tentatively wrap around his neck and he can feel your ring resting against his neck. The two of you sway gently as the music plays. 

You’re too wrapped up in your own world to notice when Alfred opens the door and leaves without a word.

[selinakidreams]

hello hello hello ! this is my comfort piece for @doinmybesthere ‘s mental health awareness month collab! and I’d just like to say a huge thank you to emme for creating such a wonderful collab and thank you for letting me be apart of it.

paring: kirishima eijirou (I’m talking 7ft big strongman vibes) x empathic quirk f!reader (established relationship)

word count: 3.7k +

genre: hurt/comfort + fluff

warnings: mentions of anxiety & toxic friendships, instigating with means to harm- please let me know if I missed anything!!

a/n: this I think,, was the best way to approach what has tormented me for years. it was a reoccurring thing for me but I never handled it properly, and just this year, someone important taught me that I deserve more than what I’ve been putting myself through. so here it is! I also think that once my schedule clears up, I’m gonna make a sister piece to this but idk !! let me know if you guys would be interested in that!

++ the absolute biggest thank you to my betas/flow checkers @doinmybesthere @lady-bakuhoe @keishinslove BIG kith

pss. the first person who can guess my love language based off this fic wins a prize

Turning other’s confidence to despair, gloating to fear, persistence to tiredness, motivation into loss- but all you felt was drained. The overuse of your quirk left your head feeling full of cotton; Your chest heaving and vision slightly blurry. 

You arrived late to the fight because what started as a relaxing day off quickly turned into a rush to get to the streets. Thankfully Red Riot had been on the scene, waist-deep and stalling a full-fledged fight between two combat villains until backup came. 

His tired eyes met yours and you flashed him a hopeful smile until witnessing the villain get a short-termed upper hand. They landed a solid punch, which caused you to feel not only the repercussions of the shock-inducing impact but your building guilt of being a distraction.

Years of training reminded you not to let it get to your head, your hero instincts kicking in after emotionally experiencing that strike. Heart pumping with adrenaline, you began to focus your heart and mind, simultaneously tuning into what those around you were feeling, never forgetting to keep your eyes wide and alert. 

Confidence, eagerness, perseverance, exhaustion, determination. 

Taking a breath as you ease into a rhythm, you kept your sights on the two people who were attacking the boulder of a hero and finally, a steady grasp.

Quirk at work, the familiar mental image of loose strings flowing in the wind appeared, and you grabbed a hold of them, symbolizing that you had caught hold of their feelings and wasted no time on bending and contorting to your will. You watched as their actions became slower and less motivated, making it easier for Kirishima to handle. He must have realized what was happening, a new surge of elation pumped through him as he began to knock both of the villains down a peg. 

Seeing him fight had always been such a marvel to watch; it was so easy to be mesmerized by the sheer enthusiasm he had while trying to keep the balance and execute justice. Kirishima Eijirou was a hero in all senses of the word- and not just any hero, your hero- as cheesy as it sounded.

Secured under his weight and possibly unconscious, Red Riot looked around, a bit disheveled, until his gaze found yours. Expecting to be met with the warm sincere smile that always made your heart flutter, your heart sunk when you saw his eyes turn wide and frantic as he called out your hero name. 

On top of feeling a bit dizzy from honing into those particular subjects and manipulating two people at once, a wave of distress washed over you, adding to the unfavorable aftermath of pushing your quirk. 

You were quick to whip around, finding another villain was closing in closer than expected. You dropped all previous controls and focused solely on the person in front of you. 

“You had gotten better since the last time I saw you,” they sneered as they attempted to land a hard-hitting kick to your stomach. 

Missing by a hair, you pushed past the dreariness in your head and went straight into a defensive position.

The close-cut dodge wasn’t the only thing to throw you off; now you had realized why Kirishima looked at you like that; your traumatic past, the one you had divulged to him in the safety of your home, warbling with tears streaking your cheeks, was coming back to roughhouse with the intent of ending in a knockout. 

Fear twisted into gut-wrenching anxiety; the plummeting feeling hit the bottom of your stomach with a harsh thud.

In front of you stood the unmistakable frame of someone you had considered to be one of your closest friends for a time; someone that seemed so natural to be with, someone you divulged secrets and shared smiles with, someone that had made it seem like separation was not an option- now turned villain, sporting a suited evil smirk smeared on their face. 

It was hard not to let the tears collect on your waterline, thinking about the whirlwind of your relationship as your gaze met theirs for the first time in years. Months and months of triggered breakdowns, cold sweats from various nightmares, and countless tears have been shed as time progressed, the sinking feeling of long-lost fear that they had put you through now showing its ugly head; the thought you had convinced yourself for so long- that you ended up not even being worth their time starting to resurface. 

It had been hard to learn the lessons that were dealt and see the mistakes made on both parts- not just yours, to pick up all the shattered expectations of what a true friendship is, but you had. Now you were able to sort through the wrong sorts and had gotten emotionally and mentally stronger because of it; in many ways, the ending of the friendship helped you realize that there were ways you deserved to be treated, and like shit wasn’t one of them.

However, it almost seemed like all the progress you had made swirled down the drain now that they were in front of you. It was like you were experiencing the heartbreak of them ending the friendship all over again.

“Awww! The poor little hero is still heartbroken after I left her?” their tone patronizing as they jutted out their bottom lip to form an exaggerated pout. “Look at you! I can practically see the desperation on your face- desperate for me to come back? You’ve always been so fucking clingy. But you know, the news has you pinned as like... some kind of saint… no, no. You’re nothing but a selfish attention whore playing the good guy... so I just wanted to stop by and remind you of the truth.” they sneered, really aiming to trigger your trauma. 

You had opened up to them about all your fears; from the smallest to the all-consuming ones, so for them to be targeting you like this… they must have thought that you haven’t changed- and you fucking have. You worked damn hard to do so; You’ve grown and have started appreciating yourself more, started loving yourself more, started working on yourself more. The villain was only targeting your past worries, keyword, past.

Regardless, you were already feeling too much as is and the best thing you could do for yourself right now was to control yourself. 

The urge to take it personally was beyond tempting- to make them suffer as they had done to you, to watch them break right in front of you… But there was a specific way to handle this situation, one you’ve envisioned more than enough, the perfect high route. 

Quickly looking back to see how Kirishima was fairing, you were met with the rock hero in the process of cuffing the other two offenders, allowing you to feel a rush of relief. You turned around and mentally centered yourself. The convict seemed to put together what you were about to do, so without hesitation, they began charging only a second too late.

Taking a breath, the perfect feeling to muddle their prideful feeling down surged through you as you carefully knotted their violent stings together.

It was the feeling you faced when all was said and done after, the outcome you faced after you had gone through confronting all of the trauma that was built up by this person. 

All you felt was emptiness. 

When it hit them, you saw it in their eyes as they stopped in their tracks. No smugness, no pride, no cowardness. Nothing to egg them on and yet nothing to make them feel terrible. Blank. 

Before confusion slithered its way to their consciousness, you took the opportunity and roundhoused them- your efficient ankle sweep knocking their head to the floor, deeming them unconscious.

Crouching to the floor next to their body, you made sure they were breathing before cuffing them and standing back up, turning around you double-check on the scene behind you.

The police furthest from you were tucking the Red Riot’s villains in their cars while the others jogging towards you kept their eyes on the limp body behind you, Kirishima in tow. He looked incredibly tired but couldn’t seem to keep the smile off his face. He felt proud.

A weak smile graces your lips as you try to take a step, only to see your vision blur.

Great. 

The last thing you saw was the panicked look in his eyes as his pace quickened to a run in attempts to catch you. You faded out to the sound of an urgent call of your actual name before your body hit the ground with a thud. 

The next few hours came in slow-paced blinks. 

The first time you opened your eyes post-fight, your body felt heavy… but you were moving. It didn’t take long to realize that you were being carried by the muscular arms that you wake up to every morning. Slowly peeling your eyes open, the sight of his signature spikey red hair reminded you that what had just happened. Your boyfriend, the one who was on the scene with you, had witnessed you overcome one of the people that truly had left damage on you. He wasn’t looking at you, but staring straight ahead; by the way, his fingers curled around your bicep and thighs, it had been tough for him to watch everything that had gone down. 

You tried to call out his name, but it sounded stifled, sounding more like a broken whisper than anything. After another try, he seemed to have heard you, his ears perking up even though all the commotion- or maybe it was just ironic timing. When his red eyes caught the beaming smile you attempted to comfort him with, he tried to mimic it, only you could make out the way his bottom lip quiver. Your eyelids became unbearably heavy and for the second time, unconsciousness took its hold over you.

Blink.

The next time your eyes peeled open, you were being inspected by the all-to-familiar medical team. The inside of the ambulance was much brighter than it was outside, fluorescent lighting causing you to squint. Unnamable hands were touching your head and pulse points. When they noticed your eyes open, they tried to keep you awake as long as possible, the first step was sitting you up on the gurney. The first person you made eye contact with was your designated nurse- the one with the most comforting presence, was that part of her quirk? 

With a kind smile and knowing eyes, she jerked her head in the direction of the person she knew was first to come to mind. Following the movement, your gaze landed on Kirishima, who was standing off to the side and chewing on his nail, arms crossed against his chest. 

Had he already got checked out? Was he okay? 

When he noticed you were staring, he mustered up a small smile and in return, you slightly lifted both your hands to do a loose wave in attempts to warm up his smile. It worked.

“Okay c’mon, you know how these checkups go- you can go be with your boyfriend once we know you’re okay.” your nurse teased, knowing full well that a serious approach wasn’t going to work with you being this drowsy. 

You merely nodded in response, head and eyelids still heavy.

 The rest of the examination went by speedily, you being awake making everything go ten times smoother. After everything was checked and you were clear to go home, the nurses moved to talk to Kirishima as you moved to the edge of the ambulance, waiting for them to finish. 

“I’m so lucky that you’re not only my hero but also a registered caregiver. Well actually… both are pretty super...” You mumbled, trailing off with a lazy smile, lids finally starting to accept the losing battle of staying open. 

“Nooo, you’re lucky that it’s the overuse of your quirk that’s keeping you out of the hospital and not fatal injuries. It’s not manly to push yourself too hard.” he quipped back in a light playful tone; He didn’t miss how hard you were fighting to stay awake. “Baby, can you make it to the car or do you want me to carry you?” 

It was moments like this where you appreciated how comfortable Kirishima made you feel in your relationship; feeling no shame when you revert to a clingy pile of mush. Reaching out, you let your eyes close as you mimic grabby hands to your enormous boyfriend. 

You hear him sigh as he kneels in front of you, opening your eyes in time to catch his broad back muscles shifting, “c’mon love, you need to help me with this bit.”

You clumsily climb on his back and loosely wrap your arms around his neck, standing up with ease. He quickly adjusts you against him to get a better hold on your thighs. Once he begins walking, you let yourself subside back into unconsciousness.

Blink.

You were jolted awake when you felt yourself falling, only for your behind to hit a familiar cushiony surface. Oh right, the car. Before you could fade out once again, you heard Kirishima say something about going to grab the paperwork so the both of you can file your reports later when you wake up. The last thought you were able to think was something along the lines of how incredibly lucky you were to have someone love you so deeply.

Blink.

Waking up to the view of the city lights twinkling below your balcony and the energy of a healthy 8 hours of sleep, you stretch the rest of the drowsiness out of your body till you feel ready to accept the hefty amount of paperwork that’s waiting for you in the other room. 

The only light that illuminated your bedroom was the reflection of the living room lights on the hallway floors. Before getting up, you spared a glance at your nightstand, seeing a glass of water with a note underneath, as predicted; this happened more often than not after a battle. You reach out and take the glass in hand and take a steady sip before letting in more and more water, then reading the messy little note:

 in the livingroom <3 

You smiled at the little doodle he drew- two characters that seem a lot like the two of you, kissing, with a sparkly heart over their heads.

The need to recreate this drawing was growing at an incredible speed.

With newfound determination, you push yourself up from the bed and shuffle to the living room, squinting when the light becomes a little too harsh against your eyes.

Eyes fully closed when you get to the center of the living room, purposely facing the wrong way and trying to suppress a giggle, you try to use the most monotone voice you could muster.

“Kiri - where are you I can’t see.” 

“Your eyes are closed- babe, open your eyes.” 

“No it’s too bright but I saw this cute drawing on the nightstand done by this really talented artist and I must recreate it please recreate it with me.”

You heard a bit of shuffling before his voice came close to your left side.

“Was it a pretty manly drawing?” 

“I would like to think so.”

He was much closer at this point, shifted to somewhere close in front of you right before warm lips were on yours; as quick as the peck came, it was gone in a flash followed by the sound of him plopping down on the couch.

“Wait Eijirou-” you start to pout as you turn in the direction where the couch is, eyes now fully open and set on Kirishima until the shock of pain shot through your nerve endings. 

“Ah, shit! Fuck!…” you wince, lifting your leg to hug your newly stubbed toe.

Kirishima is back by your side in an instant, really trying to suppress his laugh but doing a terrible job.

“You’re such a jerk for laughing,” you pout, giving your best attempt of a proper shove… and he didn’t even budge. 

There was a moment of complete silence then the booming of your boyfriend’s boisterous laughs bouncing off the walls. Rolling your eyes, you limped over to the spot on the couch where he was previously sitting, and as the cushion beside you dips, you sigh. 

The sight in front of you was a disheveled mess. Scribbled on papers were thrown about- most were filled out but there were a few that were blank, pens and highlighters could be spotted under and over random reports.

“I did most of the reports… but I didn’t know if you wanted to fill out yours… because of who you were fighting.” he slowly stated, as if he were walking on eggshells. You could tell that he was holding back from hitting the main issue. 

Was this something you were ready to unbiasedly talk about? Kirishima knew most of the details, but he also realized that you probably wanted to talk about it more now that you’ve not only seen them after all this time but had to fight them. 

With another sigh, you let your head fall into your palms- your elbows digging into your thighs- and you roughly rub your eyes before coming up for a new breath of air. 

“My heart was pounding…” you started, attempting to prepare for the unwanted wave of grief, but as you trailed off, oddly enough, it never came. 

When reflecting on the fight, you remembered the range of emotions you felt, but now… you just felt… empty- which was ironic. No sadness, longing, anxiety… if anything, with your caring redhead staring at you with the roundest eyes, you felt at ease. 

“But honestly? I don’t really feel much right now. Like I can say that when looking back, I think I handled myself in the best way possible- they don’t deserve to have that satisfaction of creating a rise out of me, and quite frankly… I’m tired, Ei. I’m so tired of letting them have that hold on me. I don’t deserve that kind of pain. As much as I am a hero, I need to think about myself as a person and there’s only so much I can endure. My mental and emotional health comes first.” 

After saying all of that, there was a slight hint of relief that flooded your system; you already began to feel lighter.

“I’m so proud of you. I know that must have been really hard to face but you did it, and you were so good about it,” he whispered as he reached out for your thigh. 

Accepting his comfort, you sucked in another breath and smiled up at him. He held and returned your smile for a couple of seconds before slightly leaning in, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips. 

“Would it be alright if I.. kiss you?” it was such a heart-warming gesture, how he was making sure you weren’t pushing yourself. 

“More than alright,” you whisper, barely getting out the last word because of how quickly the gap between you two closed. The kiss was comfort in the rawest form; his pace was slow, his large hand cupping your jaw as his tongue invaded your mouth. You were following his pace, your eyes coming to a close, melting into a relaxed state for what seemed like the first time today. 

Keeping the kiss light, he pulled away shortly, but not before placing a lingering peck on your lips, then one on your forehead and whispering, “I made you a snack. You’re probably hungry right now so I prepared you a little something filling. And while you eat, I’m gonna run a bath with some Epsom salt and lavender oil, does that sound good?” 

Overwhelming gratitude washed over you. Words couldn’t possibly measure even the bare minimum of the love you have for Kirishima Eijirou, and yet you managed to string a soft, “You are the most wonderful person in the world, and I… Eijirou I love you so much.” 

His eyes became a little teary as he looked down at you, a wobbly smile in place before whispering a returning “I love you,” before heading into the bathroom to run the water in your massive tub. 

As the thundering sound of the water filling the tub echo through your apartment, you get up and rummage the fridge to find a plate of adorably cut red apples with a glob of peanut butter off to the side. 

“Baby do you want tea?” You call out just loud enough, “I’m gonna brew that green tea with the toasted rice!” 

He came into the kitchen looking big and confused, “what did you say, baby?”

“Green tea?”

“Oh yes, please,” he said, leaning in and planting a kiss to your temple before turning back to the bathroom. 

“Kiri? Can you put on the house shows on the tv? I forgot what channel they were on.”

You didn’t need to turn around to hear tv turn on; a shout of thanks was called out before you took a bite of your snack.

It felt all very domestic, something you never thought could happen to you. Your childhood was a montage of quirk abuse, being emotionally used, following the same types of toxic people, and never learning your lesson. It all flipped somewhere in your twenties- you began to realize the pattern after being shown the kindness the world could offer. No longer world you put up with bullshit like that. You knew better now and Eijirou always reminded you of that. 

You were halfway through one of your favorite flipping shows when Kirishima came in shirtless, letting you know the bath was ready, “Okay my love, it’s ready. Take your time, I‘ll be in the tub.”

You stripped on your way to the bathroom, leaving all your clothes on the bench in the bedroom before padding into the warm-tiled bathroom.

The view you stepped in on was delicious; your huge boyfriend taking up most of the tub, his head tilted back against the wall, eyes closed.

“Gee red, you’re so sexy.” you aimed to tease, but your words came out a bit strained. He chuckles before turning to face you and groaning your name, “hurry up and come in here.”

And it’s then when you’re submerged in all the heat and laying against your boyfriend’s warmth, do you remember that life is what you make it to be. Never accept anything less than the love and care you deserve.

Blink.

[oliviayamaoka]

The Roseville Murders (Chapter 2)

Hi, just wanted to say I adjusted the plot slightly and will go into more detail with the story next chapter! This was a bit experimental and I wanted to write the growing relationship / rivalry between Y/N and Danny. I also wanted to write Y/N as a girlboss and to be just as witty as Danny!

Anyways, please comment any ideas or suggestions you may wanna see in future chapters! I have this planned out but would love any ideas or stuff I can add into the story! Tysm for reading!

It rained softly outside as you took a seat at your workplace. The desk was a bit cluttered with your art, notes, junk, and your papers regarding your current investigation.

One of the drawings on your desk was a sketch of Ghostface’s mask, attached to it was a few notes regarding the origin of the mask. Did Ghostface care for the history of it, anyways? You already theorized he was a narcissist who took pride in his work. Perhaps, he admired Edward Munch and his infamous “The Scream” artwork? Or maybe he based his persona off of it? You weren’t too sure but you did research the distribution and the company that made the masks. It wasn’t a particular popular company but it only distributed to the USA, Canada, and Brazil.

Ghostface didn’t seem too caring when it came to where he stabbed victims. As long as there was a lot of blood and something only he could perceive as art. And maybe you too. You felt excited, you already had a three year timeline. Maybe, you could get ahold of other states and ask if there’s been similar killings. Maybe even Brazil and Canada? You had to pinpoint a location and see if you could find just one name, any name.

Three years. Three countries. A part of you doubted he was Brazilian. Maybe Canadian? You weren’t so sure, you were pretty sure he was American. Y/N would probably have to go to the library tommorow to do research and use the slowly growing internet. Your research was suddenly halted when you knocked your sketchbook over.

Our slid a page. You kneeled down to pick it up, holding it as you examined the dark sketch. On the paper was a sketch of claws? No, they also looked like tentacles. Ever since the incident, you had dreams of these tentacle claws grabbing you and pulling you away from life as you know it. It must’ve been a sign of trauma or maybe it represented what happened through the nightmares? You slid it back into your sketchbook, deciding not to dwell on it. It would only make your room feel more depressing.

Beside your sketchbook was your leather journal. Y/N wrote everything in there, for mental health reasons. You included the incident and what Jonathan did for you. Your previous therapist said journaling your thoughts helped the healing process. It worked but journaling about how you killed your abuser was hell.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted when your phone rang. It was a chunky, black mobile phone you got about a week ago? Y/N reached for it and answered.

“Hello?” You answered, using your other hand to organize your desk.

“Hello?” A voice answered, it was a male by the sound of it.

“Hi, who’s this?” Y/N asked, paying no mind to the phone call as she started to put some of her stuff away. Art supplies.

“Who’s this?” He replied.

“Y/N L/N, am I who you’re trying to reach?” You asked, sitting back down.

“Ah, you’re no fun, detective.” He chuckled as you stopped, furrowing your eyebrows in confusion. Who was this?

“My apologies but, this is my personal phone. Can I ask who gave you this number?” You questioned him.

“Why does it matter, gorgeous? I know it’s you now.” He responded.

“Please don’t call me that. And yes, I am indeed a detective but I’d feel more comfortable discussing anything with you on my work phone.” Y/N said sternly.

“Oh, yeah… Detective L/N, huh? Think you’re some sort of hotshot because you’re new? Where did you come from? Washington? Gonna take more than the feds to catch me.” He said to you.

You listened intently and stopped for a moment. Catch him? Must be a stupid prank. Although, not a funny one since he had your personal phone number. An eyebrow raised as you looked at your notes on Ghostface.

“You still haven’t told me your name. Let’s not be rude, yeah?” You responded, being a little more cocky since you were off-duty.

“Awe, don’t tell me you forgot my name. I’ll give you a hint… I’ve been quite famous lately. In fact, I think you’ve taken quite the interest in me, Y/N.” The man teased. It was 100% Danny.

“I asked for a name, not an alias.” You said.

“Maybe after dinner, hotshot.” Danny said to you as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“I’m not in Roseville to play games. Either verify you are who you claim to be or quit wasting my time.” Y/N spoke with a stern tone.

“My last victim had three stab wounds to the throat. It was going to be two but their scream wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be. And they had a tattoo on their upper thigh. Bella Smith.” He said as you froze for a moment.

It was true. The latest murder victim was a middle-aged woman named Bella Smith who worked at a convenience store. She had multiple stab wounds but it was pretty much impossible to see she had three wounds on her throat just looking at photos of the crime scene.

“Okay and how did you get my number? I imagine the infamous Ghostface doesn’t have access to these types of things. How do I know this isn’t some sort of elaborate prank orchestrated by my coworkers?” You questioned.

“Honey, I am Roseville. Also sounds like you have experience with these kinds of things. You ever get humiliated like that?” Danny asked, grinning widely.

“No, it’s just a very logical conclusion. And why would you be talking to me anyways?” You asked him.

While you spoke to him, you quickly wrote down what he said and what he sounded like. You quickly speculated what his age may be, maybe 25?

“I keep tabs on the cops who are investigating my work and to be honest? They’re all stupid, it’s pathetic. Although, I noticed something about you. You come from one of the big cities, don’t you? You’re actually smart compared to those other pigs.” He said.

“Those pigs you speak of have tried their best in pursuing you. They have families too.” You responded.

“Really, huh? You’ve only been here three weeks? I think you should just trust me on this one because those other officers really don’t know what they’re doing. If you actually find out who I am, are they gonna give you credit? The newbie? A woman?” He asked.

“I don’t understand why gender is an issue. And why would they try to steal credit?” You questioned.

“They’re stuck in this shit hole city and I bet they could just really use a promotion right now. They want so badly to be the hero that arrests me… but first, they’ll let the freshly graduated detective do the work. It’s so easy to overshadow women in this world.” Danny said.

“Well, I don’t care. As long as you’re put behind bars.” Y/N responded.

“The bars at this station? I must say, your desk is quite cute. A bit plain but I like your style… interesting files too.” He mused.

“Huh?” You responded, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Your lil’ office at the station, I like it. This place has always been easy to break into. You noticed it too, didn’t you? Their security sucks and their morgue is just too damn small.” Danny said as you frantically looked around, shoving your shoes on.

“I’m going to call them right now and tell them you’re there. That was a stupid move on your part.” You said, practically yelling.

“So young and naive. I’ll be long gone.” He responded, chuckling as you hung up.

“Fuck, shit!” You said, quickly dialling the number to the police station.

You practically flung your door open, sprinting down the hallway and out through the front doors of the apartment complex after three flights of stairs. Your heart rate increased as you continued running down the sidewalk, feeling more frantic when there was no answer.

“Answer…!” You yelled, calling the emergency number.

“911, how can I help you?” A staticky voice answered as you continued running.

“I’m Detective Y/N L/N! Please inform the police station that there’s an intruder! He might be armed and dangerous! Do not touch anything since there may be forensic evidence!” You instructed.

“Oh—yes, right away, ma’am!” The dispatcher answered as you hung up, continuing to focus on your running towards the station.

Back at your apartment complex, there stood Danny with his own mobile phone. It couldn’t be traced back to him since it was stolen and he didn’t leave any DNA on it. If anything, it had the previous owners. Bella Smith. Your apartment complex had fire escape stairs outside your window. Easy enough, he thought. His outfit was black and had some stuff hanging off it. Strings? Ribbons? Danny was quite quick and extremely quiet when it came to climbing the set of stairs.

He reached your window, pulling it open gently and hoisting himself through, landing gently whilst kneeled down. For precaution, he had his knife gripped in one hand. This was purely for investigation and to see what you truly had on him. His head tilted curiously as he noticed your desk. Your art and notebook. His gloved hand reached out to your sketch of him.

Danny was truly impressed at how detailed and good it was. He read through your sticky notes and theories. Other than the fact he was blown away, he knew you were a threat since you successfully guessed his age range and height. Wait, his height? You did a careful examination of the footage he was in, looking at objects around him and his boots to correctly guess a height.

“What the fuck…?” Danny muttered as he looked at your notes.

The Scream by Edward Munch and a costume company? He skimmed over your notes and the psychological profile you built on him. He felt somewhat panicked since you were indeed no joke. His gaze averted towards your leather notebook. Eagerly, he grabbed it and opened it. Most of it was your thoughts and causes of your stress and anxiety. He stopped flipping through when he saw a darker page. It was dark because of the writing and how crumpled it seemed.

December 23rd, 1992

I was walking down an alleyway two weeks ago. It was cold so I had a jacket over my uniform. I suppose that’s why the man didn’t know I was an officer.

At first, I thought that he was going to try and rob me. It took me a while to realize that my money and belongings wasn’t what he was after. I suppose it would be appropriate to say that I was in shock for a moment. He never finished what he started. Despite being in shock, I was able to feel everything and the adrenaline only helped my rage.

Why? Why did this have to happen to me? After getting him off, I pulled my gun out and he stopped. I still remember the look on his face after I shot him. He was scared and pathetic, as he was in life. I don’t regret killing him. I never will. I just feel utterly violated. Never once have I been touched like that so violently. Is this what this fucked up world has come to? What if I didn’t have my gun and training?

He definitely did this to other women… he deserved to die. And I would do it all over again to him and to other men just like him. Of course, I had to call the police. They were going to charge me with manslaughter but they said that they would push this all under the rug, just as long as I never tell anybody. Did I contribute to corruption in the police force? This getting out would ruin everything. I don’t know but I do know that this was my gift.

Freedom was my gift for killing that man. It felt oddly exhilarating. I hope nobody remembers him, I hope his family know what kind of monster he was. Anyways, I’m being reassigned somewhere. They said they’ll give me my first investigation. In a smaller city.

Danny’s fingers trailed over the page. He felt angry and sad for you. That this happened to you. But, something arose in him when he kept re-reading that paragraph. You… enjoyed it? Behind the mask, he had a soft expression on his face. He imagined your beautiful face full of blood with you and your gun. He smiled gently as he kept the notebook.

He did indeed feel bad for you but he wasn’t satisfied with his limited knowledge of you. Danny decided to use this notebook of incriminating evidence to hold some leverage over you. Not only that but he figured he’d get to know you better if they had something interesting to talk to you about. Danny couldn’t help but grin when he thought about your journal entry and the sketches you made of him. So smart yet so naive.

Danny quickly took a look around your apartment to see all points of entry. He took a peak into your bedroom, it was neat and tidy. He seemed somewhat paranoid so quickly went back to your living room window, making his swift little escape. Not without taking some of your notes on him and your sketchbook.

About two hours later, you rubbed your eyes in frustration as another officer came to talk to you. There was a forensic team still investigating your little office space. Apparently, there was nobody here and your office seemed untouched. For about thirty minutes, you inspected any points of entry and tried to look for out of place shoe marks since it rained outside.

“Detective, are you certain it was the killer who called? We get prank calls a lot.” He said as you nodded.

“Yes, I’m certain. It was him, he knows I’m going to catch him soon.” You said as he nodded a bit.

“Okay, well, we’ll take it from here. Come early tommorow.” He said as you sighed.

“I will but please, don’t miss anything. I’m starting to think he was lying. It was him though.” You said as you turned, walking down the hallway towards the exit.

It seemed to be evening at this point and the rain stopped pouring. It was slightly humid but the city looked oddly beautiful when it was wet? You couldn’t stop thinking about your phone call with Ghostface earlier. Y/N already had some tech professionals try to track the number he called from and all of the information regarding the phone company. You’d have to wait two days at the latest for the results to come back.

As you walked through light puddles, you felt more and more tired. All the running and frantically searching for him was enough to just make you exhausted. It was all last-minute too. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks when she felt her mobile phone ring. You pulled it out of your pocket and answered it.

“Hello?” You asked, tired.

“Hey, gorgeous. Just wanted to apologize for my little deception trick earlier.” He responded as your eyes widened.

“Ghostface…” You responded, shocked that he had the courage to call you again.

“God, hearing that from you…” He said with a slight husk as you took a deep breath quietly to calm yourself.

“You know I’m close, don’t you?” You questioned him as he chuckled.

“Of course, I do… only these hands of mine can do wonders for you.” Danny said to you as you scoffed.

“You’re disgusting.” You say to him.

“Don’t lose your temper now, detective. There’s… things we should discuss.” He cooed.

“Things? Seriously?” You asked him, already tired of his bullshit.

“Yeah! Like, this lil’ notebook of yours! Really deep stuff… Victor Houston, was it? The serial rapist? Must’ve felt real good to put him down, didn’t it? Did it feel as good as you said it did in this thing?” He asked as you froze.

You probably let out a small whimper of shock as your hands trembled. Your heart pumped hard and fast. It was all you can hear as you felt your face heat out of pure embarrassment and shock. He… read your journal? This wasn’t good, this wasn’t good.

“W-What…?” You asked as he cackled.

“God, you’re so hot when you sound scared. Don’t be offended though, babe. You still sound real sexy in your cop tone.” He said as he continued.

“Yeah, I read all about the guy you killed. And how it was all covered up to accommodate you. Are you a star student or something? It’s hard covering up murders… or has it always been easy for you?” He asked.

“I-I, um… how did you get that…?” You asked him, trembling.

“You see, Y/N… we’re the same. You and I are too smart for Roseville. It’s just that I got the upper hand this time. While you rushed to the police station, I took a quick trip into your apartment.” He said as you let out a light gasp.

“Yeah, that’s right! I know where you live, I know where you’re from, and your number. I know who you truly are, Detective Y/N L/N.” Danny said mockingly.

“And what are you going to do with it?” You asked him.

“Always so straight to the point. I might give that annoying little journalist Jed Olsen. You’re trying to work with him, aren’t you? You mentioned in one of these notes… you also think he’s handsome.” He said as you covered your eyes.

You fought tears.

“Why? Why would you do this?” You ask.

“I should be asking you that. I’m a bit jealous you find someone like Olsen… attractive. He’s so boring, so normal, so… ugh, I hate talking about him. Still though, nice to know I have another fan besides him.” He said to you.

“Where are you going with this?!” You snapped as he chuckled darkly.

“I won’t tell anybody. Just as long as you halt your investigation for a while. I still want to have fun in Roseville here and well… get to know you.” He said.

“Go to hell.” You muttered.

“How original… so what’ll it be? I kinda need to know now since I’m also on a bit of a time crunch.” Danny asked you.

“W-What the fuck do you want me to do? Sit back and watch as you kill more innocent people?! I won’t let you.” You said with a venomous tone.

“What are you gonna do? Stop me behind bars?” He asked mockingly.

“Fuck you.” You said.

“I’m sure we will. But first, I just want you to sit back and not do anything stupid. We’ll see each other eventually. I’ll call you from another phone soon.” He said, hanging up.

You held your phone in disbelief and quickly made sure you had your gun. How the hell could you have been so dumb?! It was genius, leading you away from you apartment and finding such leverage against you purely out of luck. Your breath trembled as you walked back to your apartment, having your gun ready in your pocket as you did so.

[whenisitenoughtrees]

If you’re still doing these, 33 with Moceit? ALL the fluff with perhaps a little dash of angst?

@thatoneloudowl i was gonna do a dash of angst but then i knocked over the angst jar and spilled a couple cups so. there is a little more than a dash. but the ending! is fluffy! don’t worry!!

for 33. Sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?

Title: like a puzzle (we fit)

Word Count: 3,328

Content Warnings: mention of disordered eating, self-isolation as a form of self-harm

(fic masterpost w/ ao3 links)

These days, Patton wanders the mindscape like a ghost. Frankly, Janus is beginning to find it annoying.

Or at least, he would, if the sight didn’t make his heart clench, didn’t make his stomach turn, didn’t make some unidentifiable emotion rise up within him, threatening to spill out before he even lets himself acknowledge it. And he’s not acknowledging it, if only because doing so while Thomas’ mental health is in such a precarious position is a risk he’s not willing to take. But that’s not enough to stop him from watching Patton out of the corner of his eye, not enough to stop him from tracking his movements, from taking in the way he seems—

Well. Bereft seems like a good way to put it. Bereft of his usual spark, his usual joy. And bereft in another way, too, because as the time passes, Janus realizes something else: Patton is isolating himself.

It’s fairly obvious, at least to him, so he’s surprised that none of the others have picked up on it— or perhaps they have, and they’re ignoring it, but that seems like a level of maliciousness that he doesn’t think that the so-called “light” sides are capable of. Because Patton is suffering, and he can’t imagine that they would let him go on in this way if they knew, even if they are angry with him. So, they’re not cruel, just oblivious, and if the situation were any different, Janus might laugh about the fact that he of all sides is the only one to recognize that something is wrong.

But this is no laughing matter.

Patton’s face is pale and drawn, his eyes watery, his smiles wan and fake. He’s grown thinner, too, if Janus isn’t mistaken, and that is yet another cause for concern; Patton is not the best cook in the world, but that has never stopped him from trying. The fact that he’s stopped cooking, perhaps even stopped eating, is worrisome, and the worst thing about all of this is that Janus isn’t entirely sure what to do about it.

He knows self-care intimately, all of its practices, all of its uses. It’s his job, and in theory, getting Patton to take better care of himself should be easy for him. But Patton has always been particular about deserving things, and Janus doesn’t know that he’s reached the level of relationship that would allow him to persuade Patton that he doesn’t deserve to be treating himself this way. He’s not sure that he’s could convince him of it outright, and while he thinks that manipulating him to come to that point of view might be doable, the idea leaves a sour taste in his mouth.

Already, his judgment is being clouded by sentiment. He wishes that he were more upset about it than he is.

But whether he knows what to do or not, something needs to happen, and an opportunity arrives soon enough. He’s lounging in the common room— and the fact that he has the freedom to do that now is still nothing short of spectacular, frankly, not that he would ever admit as much out loud— when Patton comes down the stairs, bleary-eyed, and goes to fetch a glass of water from the kitchen. He watches, curious, as Patton passes him with barely a glance.

It is instinct to follow him. Patton doesn’t seem to notice his presence, so he leans against the doorframe, observing quietly as Patton fumbles a glass from the cabinet, almost dropping it, and sticks it under the tap to fill with water. He considers saying something when Patton gulps down half of it in one go, and again when Patton sighs, bracing himself against the counter. But it feels like an intrusion, somehow, and the words won’t come.

So, he doesn’t say anything, preparing himself to jump in the moment that Patton turns and sees him.

Patton turns and sees him.

“Hello, Pa—”

But Patton flinches violently, and Janus is cut off by the sound of glass shattering on the floor. All thoughts of having a cool, measured conversation fly out the window.

“Shit,” he says, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to— here, just let me—”

He steps forward, choreographing his movement so Patton can avoid him if he wants, but Patton is staring at the ground, his eyes wide as they flit across the glass now scattered on the tile. He doesn’t react as Janus takes his elbow, guiding him away from the glass shards, and he doesn’t react when Janus snaps his fingers, getting rid of the mess entirely.

Janus’ concern grows.

“Patton?” he asks. “Patton, are you with me?”

Slowly, Patton blinks. His gaze comes into focus, and then he smiles, a smile so clearly plastered on, so clearly fake that it sits like a physical weight in Janus’ gut.

“Janus!” he chirps. “Hi! Sorry about that, I’m not sure what came over me. Guess I’ve got a real case of butter fingers today.” He waves his hand, holding a Butterfingers bar between his fingers, and Janus frowns. He knows a deflection when he sees one, though he’s less certain that Patton realizes that he’s doing it in the first place. By now, he wouldn’t be surprised if it’s an ingrained instinct.

Look away, Patton is saying. Wasn’t that a funny joke? Pay attention to the joke, not to me. I’m alright.

“I should be the one apologizing,” he says. “I startled you.”

Patton laughs. “That’s alright,” he says. “Really, I guess I just wasn’t paying enough attention. Was there something that you needed?”

He maintains a blank face with an effort. “Do I need to have a reason to spend time with you?” he asks, and there is the first crack: a moment of bewilderment passing across Patton’s face, as if he can’t possibly believe that someone would want to be around him for the sake of his company. It’s a familiar look, a bitter one, one he would never admit aloud to having seen in his own mirror.

“Of course, I would love to talk to you,” he continues. “But only if you’re amenable.”

Patton squints at him, and this, too, is familiar ground, as Patton tries to figure out whether he’s sincere or not. He waits patiently as Patton’s expression folds into something just a little more genuine, tinged with relief.

“Sure,” he says. “I’d love to talk for a little while.”

Something sour coats Janus’ tongue; a half-truth, then, though which half, he can’t tell. Patton is almost as practiced in lying as he is, though his are so often self-directed. But for now, he will take the admission at face value, and as he walks over to the couch, Patton follows, settling on the cushions next to him, and that is what is important.

“In all honesty, I wanted to know how you were doing,” he says, keeping his voice as gentle and sincere as he possibly can. It doesn’t come naturally to him, but somehow, it is easier when it is Patton. Easier to open up, easier to express his true concerns. Easier to allow himself to care, and he wishes he didn’t have to read into that, but he knows very well what it means, even if he’s shelving it to be considered at a later date. “It’s been some time now since the wedding, but I couldn’t help but notice that you haven’t been spending much time around the others lately.”

The wince is so quick that Janus half-wonders if he imagined it. But no— it was masked quickly, but it was there.

“Well, you know how it is,” Patton says. “Everyone’s so busy lately, me included! You know, with Nico and all.”

Janus feels his chest fill with warmth at the mere mention of the name, though he keeps his infatuation off his face as well as he can. There is not a single side in the mindscape that isn’t taken with Nico, completely and utterly, and Janus is unashamed to count himself among their number. Nico is who Thomas wants at the moment, after all, and Janus is always eager to let Thomas act on his wants.

But bringing him up now is nothing more than another distraction, one that he sees through immediately.

“I don’t know at all,” he agrees, “But, Patton, I can’t help but feel as though this is something else.” He flicks through a couple of options in his mind, wondering what will get through to him the best. After a moment of consideration, he reaches out and places a hand on Patton’s arm. It’s awkward; casual physical contact is not something he’s particularly practiced in. But Patton doesn’t seem to mind it, or at least, he doesn’t move away, though he appears a bit startled. “You’ve moved past busy into outright avoidance.”

Patton’s jaw works. “I’m not avoiding—”

“Patton.”

Patton stops and looks at him for a moment. And then, he slumps in on himself, like a marionette with its strings cut. “Am I that obvious?” he asks, and he sounds so miserable that for a moment, Janus wants nothing more than to wrap him up in his arms and hold him until his pain goes away. An unusual instinct for him, but perhaps it makes sense; Patton has always liked hugs, as far as he knows, so it’s not unreasonable that his first thought would be to offer one.

His drive for self-preservation goes far beyond preserving himself, after all.

“Not really,” he says, “but you know how I’m so terribly unobservant.” He pauses, and then goes on, more quietly. “I won’t force you to talk to me if you would rather not. But we’ve had the conversation about repression before. Multiple times, if I remember correctly.”

Patton laughs, but there’s no warmth in it. Just something sad, self-deprecating.

“No, no, you’re right,” he says. “And I know it’s not good, I just—”

He waits, and Patton draws in a breath.

“I’ve been thinking,” he says, “about my mistakes a lot, lately. And I— I understand that it’s okay that I make them, and that I can’t be perfect, and as long as I try my best to fix things and do better then it’s alright, but it’s just that— Roman’s been so happy lately, you know? Because he finally got something that he wanted. And it just sort of hit me that I’ve been keeping him from having that for so long. He hasn’t been happy in so long, and I’m not even sure that anyone’s been happy in so long, and it’s all my fault because I’ve been saying that it’s wrong to want things for yourself, but it’s not really wrong at all and I know that now, but I just don’t know how to—”

“Patton,” Janus says, squeezing his arm, “please, breathe.”

Patton stops, looking at him, which isn’t exactly what he meant him to do, but he’s breathing, at least.

“Is this why you’ve been avoiding them?” he asks. “Because you’ve been worrying about this?”

Patton glances down, his hands twisting into the hem of his shirt.

“I just don’t want to hurt them again,” he says, voice small, and Janus is surprised at his own flash of anger. Who it’s directed at, he can’t say. The others, perhaps, for letting it get this bad. Himself, for not seeing it sooner.

“I understand that,” he says, “but even if you weren’t letting yourself magnify your missteps, which you are, by the way, you can’t possibly believe that they’d want you to hurt yourself instead.”

Patton jerks. “I’m not—”

“Oh, you’re not?” He breathes out sharply through his nose, trying to regain some of his composure. If this were any other side, he would feel comfortable in berating them from dawn to dusk, but Patton is too fragile for that right now. Even he can recognize as much. “Patton,” he says, softer, but firm, “when was the last time you ate?”

Patton’s brow furrows. “This morning,” he answers, “or— no. Wait. It had to have been— no, that’s not it either.” The corners of his eyes pinch as he tries to work through it, and while Janus has to admit that it is some relief to know that he hasn’t been denying himself food on purpose, the fact that the question is a difficult one at all is still very concerning.

“I—” Patton stops, stutters. “I guess I haven’t been very hungry lately. I didn’t think it had been that long—”

“It’s alright,” Janus interrupts, even though it isn’t, because there is an edge of panic beginning to creep into Patton’s voice, and he would like to avoid that if he can. “Well, we can work on it, at any rate.”

Patton’s hands are trembling. He pauses, considering for a moment, and then reaches out to take them in his. The contact is startling, despite the fact that he initiated it, and judging from the way Patton stills, the sentiment is shared. It is almost enough to make him pull away again, writing the venture off as a bad idea, but he doesn’t want to give Patton the wrong impression, doesn’t want him to assume that he stopped for any reason other than his own hangups about touch.

“That is,” he says, “if you’ll allow me to help. I can’t force you into anything. Ultimately, you’re your own person. Or rather, your own part of a whole person. But that means that the decision is up to you.”

Patton doesn’t reply. He’s staring at where their hands are connected, his face twisted into an expression that Janus can’t even begin to describe, and a horrible suspicion enters his mind.

Self-isolation can be a form of self-harm, too, and Patton has always been so tactile by nature.

“How long has it been since you last touched someone?” he asks, and Patton startles, yanking his hands out of Janus’ grip like he’s been burned. Janus tries not to let it sting.

“That’s not—” he says. “That’s not a big deal. I can— I don’t have to— and I didn’t want to bother anybody, so I—”

“Right, because asking people for a bit of physical contact is such a bother,” he says, his voice veering sharper than he intends.

“Isn’t it?” Patton asks, and Janus rears back at his tone. “Everyone’s dealing with their own things right now, so why should they have to help me on top of that? And besides, I’m clingy, and nobody—”

“Who told you that?”

Generally, he refrains from trying to murder his fellow sides, if only on the principal that they’re all needed for Thomas to function properly, but if it turns out that one of them has caused this, that one of them has called Patton clingy, made him think that seeking out affection when he needs it is somehow wrong, or a burden on others, then he refuses to be help responsible for his actions.

“No one had to tell me that,” Patton says. “But it’s true, isn’t it? I’m too much, and I’ve been trying to be better about that too, but it’s just—”

No.

No, no, no.

“No,” he says. “It’s not true. You’re not too much, not when it comes to things like this, and anyone who has ever told you otherwise is wrong. No—” He raises a hand when Patton goes to cut him off, though he doesn’t actually exercise his silencing ability. Repressing Patton now would be the exact opposite of helpful. “And that includes yourself.” He reaches out and takes Patton’s hands again, holding on tight. He can feel how tense Patton is, how every muscle in his body has stiffened.

“Please,” Janus says. “Tell me what you want.”

Patton’s eyes well up with tears. His lips quiver. The silence stretches on.

And finally:

“I— sometimes, I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” It’s a whimper, a plea, and really, Janus is absolutely going to kill each and every last inhabitant of the mindscape for neglecting Patton like this, for allowing him to believe that something so simple as cuddling him would be a chore, would be too much. He’s going to kill them, but later, because here and now, Patton needs him more than he needs any acts of violence, no matter how well-deserved.

“Of course it’s not,” he says, and hopes that the sincerity comes through, hopes that Patton doesn’t assume he’s lying. “Come here.”

And even as he draws Patton closer, he begins to panic. He has never done this before, never been asked to do this; generally, the others have always assumed that he likes his space, and usually, that’s true enough that he’s never bothered to correct the notion. It’s had the added benefit of keeping Remus at arm’s length when he’s difficult to handle, but he would be lying— ha— if he said that he’d never considered the drawbacks before now, never let himself wonder what it would be like to have someone else so close to him.

He’s never cuddled. Never been cuddled, never cuddled someone else. So really, he is possibly the absolute worst side for Patton to be stuck with right now.

But he’s what Patton’s got, so he tugs Patton up against his chest, wrapping his arms around him. Patton makes a noise, something between a gasp and a whine, but it only takes a second for him to melt into the touch, all of his weight landing firmly against Janus’ body as he goes limp as a ragdoll.

It’s an awkward position. He doesn’t know anything about cuddling, but he’s fairly certain that it’s supposed to be more comfortable than this.

He wonders if the fact that he feels like his skin is on fire is typical, or if that’s just him. A consideration for later, maybe, though his heart is beating almost too fast to ignore.

“Here,” he says, “let’s—”

He pulls back, heart panging at Patton’s soft whimper, but he settles himself on the couch, a sprawling position halfway between sitting and lying down. He beckons, then, and Patton wastes no time before lurching forward, draping himself along Janus’ body, and this— this feels right, somehow, their limbs slotting into all the right places, curving against each other, and Janus places his hands on Patton’s back to keep him in place. Not that he needs to; Patton doesn’t seem to want to go anywhere.

Patton tucks his face underneath his chin, resting against the hollow between his neck and collarbone. Janus has to suppress a whimper of his own. He’s never been touched there. Not ever.

He feels himself melting into Patton just as much as Patton is melting into him. It’s new, and strange, and a bit terrifying, but he doesn’t want it to stop.

Patton lets out a sigh, long and low. “‘M sorry I was being dumb,” he murmurs, words barely intelligible.

“It’s not dumb to be scared, or to have self-doubt,” he replies, though it’s a struggle to make himself coherent. His brain feels mushy, his thought processes slow, like wading through knee-deep water. “You’re wrong, of course, but it’s not dumb.” He pauses. “And it’s definitely not dumb to want someone to take care of you.”

“‘M glad you’re here,” Patton mumbles. “I’m glad it’s you. Thank you, Janus.”

Something in his chest bursts, warm and brilliant, and he doesn’t think it’s the contact.

“Of course,” he says, fighting to speak past a mouth that has gone very dry. “Anytime.”

Patton shifts, snuggling closer, and he wonders if Patton realizes just how much he means it. Because he does, perhaps more than he has ever meant anything else.

He’s not ready to say it, yet, though. Not yet ready to make it known, to open himself up to that. So, for the moment, he holds Patton against him, and lets him rest. Safe, warm, and though unspoken, loved.

General Taglist: @just-perhaps @the-real-comically-insane @jerrysicle-tree @glitchybina @psodtqueer @mrbubbajones @snek-boii @severelylackinginquality @aceawkwardunicorn @gayerplease @elizabutgayer @dwbh888 @thatoneloudowl @sanderssides-angst @gayboopnoodle @wildfire5157 @ldavmp4 @a-ghostlight-for-roman @sammy-is-obsessed @imlovethomassanders @a-yeet-bop-bop-boom @halfords-hysteria @random-fander @addykatb @i-cant-find-a-good-username @intruxiety @maybedefinitely404 @arya-skywalker @thefivecalls @nerdy-emo-royal-dad @bisexualdisaster106 @teacupfulofstarshine @neo-neo-neo @lollingtothemax

[cowboyjen68]

Recently I’ve been debating getting top surgery. I know that some butches get top surgery and seem happy with the results but I’ve also met some who grew out of their discomfort with time. So I guess I’m debating if I should wait to see if maybe the discomfort around my chest will ease with age or if I should look into getting top surgery. The ones I’ve talked to also had this discomfort about their breast growing during puberty but they said after some time it decreased but for mines it seems like a problem that hasn’t gone away.

I am so sorry for the delay, seems work and side gigs are taking up a lot of my time lately. 

I can only speak from my experience with my body and from other lesbians I talk to... and I talk to a lot. I have many friends across generations. Many of my younger friends are butch but not all. My older friends are a myriad of types of lesbians and as diverse as the greater population. This weekend now that we are all vaccinated we had a campfire with 12 lesbian, 5 butches present. We have definitely had discussions about our breasts, discomfort, and the mourning over loosing breasts to cancer (or the danger of cancer).  Most of my buddies, from 19 to 68 share similar stories about learning to be at least “okay” with their bodies in a world where our physical attributes are often used to define our personality, and our worth. 

One thing we ALL share, as women, not just lesbians, is that we were at best dissatisfied that we have breasts starting as soon as they begin to form. I was 7 when mom told me I had to wear a shirt outside. Wow was I pissed. AND as a 7 years old I knew it had nothing to do with me but everyone seemed just fine with the fact that men were the issue but since we can’t change them we must change our own behavior.

 I remember thinking “how is me not wearing a shirt a problem”. Breasts had been neutral for me at that point. Just another part of my body. Once I realized “they” made me different, more vulnerable, more controlled, less “human” than those around me without breasts I turned my hate on my body instead of the people who really were to blame. Just like I was taught, I can’t control the men but I perhaps I could control my body. 

I have raised at least 10 teenage daughters (2 are lesbians now) my youngest adopted is 15 and when her other mom told her to put on a shirt in the summer of her 8th birthday, even in our rural yard she looked at me dead in the eye and said “why haven’t you fixed this yet?” (meaning women’s bodies being subject to the eyes and opinions of men). I wonder.. why haven’t we? She is the youngest, but all the others grew from hating their breasts to at least neutral, some really love their bodies and that is lovely. 

Lesbians are unique in our dealings of men’s opinions because we never need or want the approval of men in relation to our bodies. The opposite in fact.. we would prefer they see us void of anything they find sexual. Many women, straight, bi, lesbian eventually either learn to give no shits about the opinions of men or they learn to work around that feeling.

Ok.. all that being said, my story. My breasts are B cups, perhaps C’s when I was a bit heavier weight wise. I wore regular bras WITH padding and always as tight as a could to make them less noticeable. When I came out i switched to sports bras because i was embracing being butch and no longer wanted to play the game of wearing  “pretty bra” . I never wore tight shirts, always baggy. I wore the tightest bra I could wear to keep my breasts smaller, less visible. FOR YEARS. 

Going to a women’s festival opened my eyes to the many ways bodies can be. The many ways BUTCH bodies can exist. Women went topless and NO one sexualized them. (except when appropriate-- like while flirting etc when it was welcomed). Thousands of people, many topless and no one, not one person was oogled, cat called, teased, or otherwise treated as different than someone wearing a shirt.  What did they all share? Why was it different than in other places? Women. All women and mostly lesbians. However that did not automatically translate to “I am going back to the real world and giving no fucks about the reality of existing with breasts in our world”. It took time.

I no longer wear a bra just an undershirt. BUT I am in control of where I go, who I interact with most of the time. If I was still at my retail job, I’d probably still wear a bra. I no longer dislike my breasts. I love them. They bring me pleasure, they bring my girlfriend pleasure. They are a lovely part of me BUT that does not mean I am not very aware in public of my nipples being visible or of people noticing I am braless. And I imagine it is harder for women with larger breasts. 

Had binders been a “thing”, had I had access to a double  mastectomy, or the idea of it i cannot say that would have pursued either. The pattern suggests I would have. But again., neither were on my radar, not options presented to me or encouraged as a way to solve my discomfort.

 I have  three friends who have had elective double mastectomies. And many who had one to prevent or remove cancer. Several of them suffer consistent and painful nerve damage that is not treatable, is quite common, is unpredictable (they can’t know who will have it) and possibly life long. Of the three who were trying to alleviate the distress of dysphoria, all three regret the decision and none of them are over 30 yet. These women are all lesbians. Those who had the surgery because of cancer are thrilled to be happy and alive with less worry, although they do deal with nerve issues and mourn the loss of a part of their body. 

I have a few trans men friends, although we are not close. A  couple of them have had double mastectomies but their thoughts or feelings have not come up, we are just not close enough for such a personal discussion and none have had the surgery for more than 2 years.  I have had lots of older lesbians friends (and a few younger) who did get breast reduction surgery and their health and mental health were both improved. Their backs are better, their clothes fit better and they feel more active, less self conscious with out the physical risks of a full mastectomy. 

The easy answer and what I WANT to say, is be patient, find lots of older lesbians friends to show you your body is neutral, men are the problem. Give yourself time to understand that your breasts are as butch as the rest of you. They are a natural part of your body and how you are meant to be. Also, I know there is not an easy answer. Men will continue to exist. They will continue to sexualize lesbians (with or without breasts). I didn’t outgrow wishing my breasts could just disappear(in public settings) until my 40′s but it got easier and easier to sort of “live with it”. I am many times over grateful for my healthy breasts now. 

Seek therapy.. and not someone who will just go along with what ever you say. My therapists works me hard. She makes me answer the hard questions. She has me vocalize things that I don’t even want to admit in my head let alone out loud. Find one like that. Find one who is willing to explore all the reasons your breasts cause you distress. Then, if you decide to proceed, you can do so knowing you were worth the hard work and you can feel more confident in making an informed decision. Don’t make any decisions based on the opinions of men. Your body. YOUR decision. Write that down on a post it and keep it somewhere you will see it. 

If you would like to speak to some others who are struggling with how you feel or want to talk to lesbians who can tell you about their double mastectomies, DM me, perhaps I can connect you. 

If  anyone wants to add their experience in the notes please be kind. No judgement for anyone making such a difficult decision. 

One last thing to this long post. From one butch to another.  I care about you and I am saddened and angry at  bull shit you have to wade through in this world. I get it. You are not alone. 

[misskittysmagicportal]

can i request something to do with the thing about vincent having tics while giving oral or just vincent giving oral general i love the way you write things

I Think We're Alone Now

(Vincent Rhodes x Fem!Reader)

Warnings: language, talk of mental health, fem!receiving oral

A/N: With the pandemic keeping you and Vincent apart, he was glad that being alone didn't mean being lonely.

Vincent Rhodes didn't tic as bad or as much in his thirties. He wasn't cured. He didn't take medicine that made them magically go away. He took meds for his anxiety, and the “cure” was still going to therapy with Dr Rose. He didn't go daily or weekly or even monthly anymore. He managed every other month. Sometimes, perhaps, every three to four months. Yet it took twenty-five to finally accept a cliche: Tourette's wasn't Vincent, Vincent simply HAD Tourette's.

Don't worry though, cunt is still his favorite word.

Vincent also did all the things he told Marie he wanted to do. He finished school and went to college online. He found himself rather good at computers and a job that required the bare minimum of human interaction. His Tourette's was under control, but his social anxiety never seemed to be. We digress!

He had a job, and a place to call home that wasn't a treatment facility or a hoarder’s house bogged down by sadness and alcoholism. Vincent didn't find it shameful that his father bought him a condo. He and his roommate had an agreement to pay utilities and work on the re-election campaign.

Vincent finally had a dog. A dog he had to fight for because his roommate had.. Rituals. Rituals that also weren't as bad as they used to be thanks to the same therapy and right medication. Just like you can't get rid of Tourette's, Vincent couldn't get rid of Alex either. That was his first, and really only, friend. As tumultuous as they started out, if you survive a road trip with two neurodivergents, you're pretty much bonded for life. Alex was sometimes more work than their dog.

Vincent and Alex did things in their late twenties and early thirties they never thought they'd do. They went out. They dated around. They had awkward sex and one night stands that the two of them could finally laugh about. Vincent could hide, or save his tics from popping up during his dates. He could even manage to hold them off when he had sex. He was relaxed and focused on the woman beneath or above him.

But then he would spasm, or twist and pop his mouth. He would unintentionally squeal or swear, call her names or flip her off. Instead of understanding Vincent, or talking to him, whoever the girl of the moment was would leave and never come back. Fuck her, Vincent would think. I can't help that I have Tourette’s; she can help being an asshole.

-----

There could not have been a worse time in anyone’s life for you to meet quite possibly the single hottest guy in your neighborhood. At least, you thought he was in your neighborhood. You kept running into each other at various stores to the point you found yourself quoting an old movie from college.

“Are you stalking me?” You boldly questioned him one afternoon as he pondered Mcintosh versus Fiji apples. “Because that would be super.”

The man jumped. Then to your shock, he spasmed almost violently. His neck twisted to the left as his hand held on to his chin and yelled out, “Brown haired cunt! Grass licking big tits.”

You laughed. It wasn't malicious or in jest. You were nervous and stunned. Still you replied, “Normally a guy has to date me for a while before he calls me a cunt. Now as for grass licking? That was only once, but I was high and we were playing truth or dare.”

He stared at you, mouth agape. A violent spasm rocked his body again like an aftershock. It caused him to excessively blow a dark curl back from his forehead several times before his body relaxed and he appeared to sink in on himself. Embarrassed. A pink hue spread along his cheeks and angled jaw as he gazed at the apples again with large green eyes.

“You ok? I wouldn't say I've got big tits. They're more like medium sized. Unless you were talking about the melons.” You held up two cantaloupe in front of your chest. “I’m y/n”

Again with the mouth open staring. Then he came to, “Vincent. I've never had someone react to Arthur that way.”

“I'm from New York. That was a Saturday night in the village. Who’s Arthur?” You looked around. “Are you being held hostage? Scream cunt for yes. Vagina for no.”

Vincent laughed. It was almost a giggle that you weren't sure was a laugh or his thing. “Arthur is my Tourette's. He's the clown who shits in between my thoughts. My tics. You scared the piss out of him.”

“You named your Tourette's? You can't do that, they never go away once you name them.”

Vincent rolled his eyes, “ DAMMIT! I'll take away his bowl of food and dog bed too. Maybe I'll finally be cured!”

You didn't want him to think you felt something was wrong with him. “Mostly with all of this, I meant I keep seeing you around. Thought I'd say hi.”

“How about we exchange phone numbers, and you can say hello more often?” Vincent cocked an eyebrow.

“Bold of you to assume calling me a cunt is flirting! But you got it out of the way now instead of down the line. Give me your phone.”

He obliged and you put your number in. As you handed it back you joked, “Should've told me you had a much sexier friend.” You indicated Alex on the phone’s wallpaper.

“He's gay.”

“Damn! Lucky for men. Anyways, I work most days. Don't know how long with everything happening out there. Call me sometime?”

Vincent twitched and wolf whistled. He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose, but promised he would nonetheless. But then pandemic happened, so all you had for the next six months was your phone

-----

You met Alex and learned his rituals and empathized with his panic to follow or abide by heath guidance. His OCD aggravated by everything going on. Vincent couldn't even go for a run without his friend completely freaking out, so he just didn't. Their balcony was it for fresh air.

You took tours of each other's apartments. Had dinners and breakfasts together. Shared what books you were reading and watched movies together. Vincent teased you about your fat, lazy cat and you did likewise over his ten pound shih tzu. Although, you admitted, it was because she got to share a bed with him.

Somehow in month 5 you were roped into a three way phone call with his dad. Senator Rhodes and Vincent seemed to have an easy relationship, but you were filled in later that it was anything but for a very long time. So you turned the tables one night, and introduced him to your entire family.

Forgetting about his Tourette's, because you had really grown used to it all. To the tics, the whistles and excessive use of the word cunt (Pandemic drinking game, Vincent’s idea) that his biggest episode since you met stunned not only you but your clan. Vincent had buried his face, you were terrified of your mistake. But you got it from somewhere.

“Sure you ain't from Brooklyn, kid?!” Thank Christ for meathead brothers.

“This is dating right?” Vincent asked after their dinner. “Pandemic, COVID, for now dating. Even though,” he paused to twist his neck, “One of my coworkers has uh, dick appointments all the time?” He snapped a finger several times and shouted something about a whore and syphilis.

“Hey! Tell Arthur to fuck off. Sexual liberation. She's not a whore, she's in her twenties!” Vincent laughed. “Are you nervous about something? Usually the bedtime part of our phone calls are the least tic-ish.”

“Wanna have sex?” He was straightforward.

“Right now? Facetime sex?” You scrunch your nose but more to be cute than creeped out.

“Here. Alex is asleep. Come over? We've been isolated for months.”

“God, I love you.”

“What?” Vincent laughed. “Are you sure about that?”

“I'll be there in twenty minutes.”

-----

Vincent opened the door and implored you to take your shoes off at the door. You expected nothing less as you complied and followed him in the stillness of the apartment to his bedroom.

The moment the door was shut, Vincent was on you before you could even adjust to the dark. Only street lamps from the neighborhood below showed through as his mouth consumed yours.

Your tongues at war with each other as the two of you scrambled to undress. Your lips broke apart long enough to throw shirts over heads and step out of flannel pants or yoga pants. Then they crashed together again as Vincent let his hands splay out the length of your back and shoulders.

Your one hand ensnared by his messy hair. The other under the waistband of his boxers and over his ass. You drew his body to yours to melt into. His erection strained and throbbed against your hip as you hungrily pushed your tongue as far inside him as you could.

The both of you eager like teenagers shot with adrenaline. Anxious and hoping Alex caught you as Vincent twitched and his shoulders shrugged up to his ears. His fingers fumbled with your bra made worse by his tics. Tics that frustrated only him; you reached and undid it for him. Your breasts were free for him to look at.

Vincent attempted to choke back his words but failed. “Tit fucker,” a sour look on his face as his eye involuntarily clamped shut, “huge nipples.” He swallowed his lips, mortified.

“Hey!! They make up for yours being the tiniest nipples I have EVER seen on a dude.” You took Vincent’s hand. “We can slow down if you want. I don't know what's up, do you tic like this every time you have sex?”

The two of you laid side by side on his bed, hands traced over inches of bare skin. Vincent was silent for a while as he let his fingers trail over you, his lips not far behind.

“I don't. I'm usually too focused. The last time I loved someone, it fell apart immediately. It's making me anxious.”

You held his head to your body with a tenderness. “I loved you first, didn't I?”

His mouth made its way amongst your breasts as he gently laid you on your back. His lips warm on your stomach and hips that he exposed by tugging your panties down over your knees and off. Vincent laid down between them and almost nuzzled his nose in your soft pubic hair before his tongue dove inside of you.

Your hips rocketed up into his mouth as you grabbed the back of Vincent's head. He licked and sucked on your sex. Small tics caused him to push his tongue and lips in further than before. They closed in on your clit. His tongue attacked it with a lapping motion that you could only bend to, helpless.

Vincent was insatiable, his mouth in a frenzy. Your fingers caught up in the sheets as the sensation of his mouth on your clit spread along your body. Now your words were a shock as they came screaming out into the quiet of the bedroom.

“Tongue fuck me! Faster!”

Instead Vincent looked up at you with a grin, “I see Arthur came to visit.”

Tag: @robertsheehanownsmyass @slutforrobbiebro @super-unpredictable98 @magic-multicolored-miracle @sean-falco @elliethesuperfruitlover @bisexualnathanyoung @bwritesstuff @firstpersonnarrator @rob-private

[url-is-under-construction]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐖𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ~ 𝐃.𝐇 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

I’m so sorry about how long this took me to get out! I’ve really been struggling to find time to write lately, so I do apologise for how short it is and if it doesn’t meet standards <3

This is also set on Earth, as an Australian obviously can’t be in the US marines, and this was the easiest way I could work around it.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: Just hella fluffy, maybe some mild cursing, stereotypical Australian-ness.

𝐒𝐲𝐩𝐧𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬: There were some unspoken laws about being Australian, including that you take every chance you get to convince foreigners that all Australian’s are just as, if not more, stereotypical as expected. Which is exactly what you do when you stumble across an American Marine early one morning.

𝐀/𝐍: I’ll be honest, I hate the way this turned out, BUT it’s been sitting in my drafts for way too long and I needed to post it because A) It was requested (sorry about the wait love xx) and B) I need to do something to make me feel productive.

The reason it took so long to get up is because honestly my mental health has been so awful lately, and I was literally unable to bring myself to get out of bed for a week, and so I’m very sorry to everyone waiting with requests, I’m starting to get a bit better, and I’m trying to write more and more often <3

An orange hue was cast across the sky as you ran, your legs pumping beneath you to carry your body through the park. This early in the morning you rarely ran into people, and especially not in this neighbourhood.

Your breaths came out in short puffs, visible in the air in front of you and you let out a small laugh of victory as you looked down at your watch, noticing that you had beat your record.

You slowed down until you were merely speedwalking, slightly hunched forward as you caught your breath, nearing a bench that you planned to sit at to watch the sun rise.

“You ok there?” A deep voice came from behind you as you slowly lowered yourself onto the bench, your legs screaming at you in agony as you turned to face the stranger, sure you looked like a mess right now.

Sweating, with stray bits of hair that had escaped your ponytail plastered to your face, red cheeks and nose, and panting like a dog.

“Fine.” You said, weary of the stranger, but feeling some curiosity twinge inside you at his accent.

“You from around here?” You asked, putting your bogan voice on.

“My second week here, how’d you tell?” He joked, sitting beside you.

“It was either the accent or the ‘Marines’ shirt.” You shrugged. “Aussies don’t have a Marine Corp, per say.”

“Yeah, well the accent is usually what gives it away.” He smiled. He seemed nice enough, and handsome too.

“So what are you doing down here, Captain America?”

He chuckled.

“Classified.”

“I call bullshit.”

“No really, it’s classified. I’m a corporal.”

Your eyes widened.

“Well then, Corporal America, what do you think of our great land down under?”

“Well nothing’s tried to kill me yet, so that’s always a plus.”

You nodded. “Always. But like, nothing? Not even a teensy weensy spider?”

He shrugged.

“Not that I know of.”

“Well that’s the point.” You rolled your eyes. “They’re so tiny, half the time you don’t even realise they’ve gotten you until you’re half dead.”

“I call bullshit.” He mimicked you from earlier.

“No really.” You said. “Happened to my dad.”

“Holy shit.” He said. “Shit, what happened to your dad? Is he ok?”

“Oh he lived.” You brushed it off. “Had about ten more years left in him, til he was attacked by a cassowary up north. Sliced him open from head to toe.”

You had to hold back a snicker at the man’s face.

“Not so big and tough are we now, Corporal?” You laughed. “I was kidding Darl, the spider thing was true though.”

He rolled his eyes. “You aren’t funny you know.”

“I’m bloody hilarious.” You said. “You’re just too easy. I have friends who could tear you apart from head to toe with their aussie stereotypes, and you would be none the wiser.”

He stared at you blankly, clearly unamused, but he cracked a smile at you when you burst out laughing at his expression.

“So will I see you here tomorrow morning, Corporal?” You asked, standing up from the bench.

“See you tomorrow.” He smiled.

[tossawary]

Chapter 25: “Home Sweet Home” of “pride is not the word I’m looking for” quotes and commentary. Not a full list of favorite quotes or full commentary. 

-

 Anyway, Shang Qinghua makes himself  so fucking sincerely annoying that the Huan Hua Palace Sect cultivators can’t figure out how to politely tell him to fuck off fast enough. Shang Qinghua makes outlandish assumptions about how many thieves there are (at least a dozen, he’s sure, probably twice that) and what methods they might be using (special invisibility talismans, he suspects); Shang Qinghua repeatedly apologizes for being too busy with important things for Cultivator O.B.B. at the last Immortal Alliance Conference, then tries to commiserate with the man about having to get important things done without getting any respect for it; Shang Qinghua also anxiously wonders if they should all go to Zhao Hua Temple Sect to report what happened here, since there’s a troublesome demon and also some sneaky rogue cultivator thieves on the loose out here! He gets turned down immediately, but assures everyone that he’ll at least let Yue Qingyuan know everything that happened here right away! 

 Liu Qingge pretty much just stands there scowling silently the entire time - he’s no Shen Qingqiu for sheer menacing  "I can and I will ruin your entire life"  glares, but he’s still pretty intimidating. He does a great job! No notes! 

 Shang Qinghua nearly pats himself on the back as he and Liu Qingge leave less than an hour after he arrives.  “Holy shit, I’m good,”  he thinks, a little giddy with the successful extraction.  “That’s a skill that good ol’ Liu-Shidi will never have!” 

 -

AN: Of course this has a high chance of backfiring. Is Shang Qinghua going to weave webs of lies anyway? Of course. 

Love the fact that Shang Qinghua can shamelessly act like a total pushover, while actually manipulating someone so that he gets the results he wanted. Some snobby sect leader walks into a negotiation room, prepared to use SQH as a doormat, and Shang Qinghua is probably internally like, “Bro, me and my jelly spine welcome you to hell.” 

- 

 He gives them the rundown on what happened, but, to his complete lack of surprise, that doesn’t seem to satisfy interrogators like his little sister-in-law and his fellow transmigrator. They have so many questions! And Shang Qinghua doesn’t have enough answers for them! 

 No, he doesn’t know what Huan Hua Palace Sect knows or thinks they know. No, he doesn’t know how they knew about that place. No, he doesn’t know whether the monster was just a local opportunist preying on distracted cultivators or something more sinister. No, he’s not experimenting with the creepy special item or discussing it at length here. No, Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber are not allowed to poke at the creepy special item! 

 Why the fuck would he ever let them do that?! 

 All Shang Qinghua knows is that Luo Fanli and Peerless Cucumber should eat their vegetables and then go to bed! Because they all have a long journey back to the sect in the morning! And also that words cannot describe how painfully old he feels as soon as he says this. 

-

AN: I’ve been thinking about a Demon Trio fanfic in which Mobei-Jun finds himself in a similar position with Luo Binghe and Sha Hualing. 

Mobei-Jun and Shang Qinghua are, like, bare minimum twice the age of Luo Binghe and Shen Yuan. Like, yes, neither Mobei-Jun nor Shang Qinghua are old old by the standard of the PIDW world. Yes, MBJ and SQH are stunted as all get out. But the fact that they have bare minimum 2x the life experience as Bingqiu is, in my opinion, funny as hell and severely underused in fanfiction. 

Like, imagine Mobei-Jun unintentionally dadding new demon LBH in SVSSS. Mobei-Jun being like, “Don’t eat the meat from this monster. It makes you hallucinate.” Or being like, “These people aren’t politically important enough to be shown this kind of respect. Look down on them properly and go sleep, or no one will ever respect you again in demon politics.” 

MBJ looking at SVSSS LBH and SHL like, “Damn, who raised you?” 

Because, like, I love to joke about Mobei-Jun being an oblivious fool, but that’s in regards to human culture. Mobei-Jun operating on demonic culture + his level of arrogance in regards to how he’s handling SQH suggests that MBJ can be politically savvy among demons when he wants to be. Also, the mental picture of MBJ being like, “Eat your weird demon vegetables, there’s nothing wrong with them, you picky half-breed brat,” is extremely funny. 

I’ll probably turn this into a separate post. 

- 

Shang Qinghua does  not  miss the man’s unconcealed  “oh, great, some of my favorite problem people are back, probably with bad news”  expression when they arrive. The man is not at all impressed to hear about the drugged-up Shadow Cave Wolf Spiders or the evil, murderous, madness-inducing plant they fought on their mission, but the Qian Cao Peak Lord is reluctantly, partially placated by the jar of three-eyed skeleton tears Shang Qinghua super thoughtfully brought back for his inspection. Mu Qingfang really likes his research projects! 

 Shang Qinghua lets himself feel kind of good about this gift - he’s the man who gets things and gets things done - and ignores the Weeper’s Eye whispering in his head,  “He has resigned himself to the untimely deaths of everyone he knows.” 

 (Wow. Oh, Shang Qinghua knows that feeling!) 

-

AN: Mu Qingfang doesn’t think that everyone around him is inevitably going to die, he’s just extremely aware of how dangerous the world is and how reckless cultivators can be. Also, for many years, he was fairly certain that Liu Qingge and Shen Qingqiu were headed for bad ends. 

This felt like a good place to insert some optimism back into the sect in general. Luo Fanli has been cured and is willingly going to visit her sister, Liu Qingge has got a hold on his self-destructive tendencies, Mu Qingfang thinks things are getting better, Shen Qingqiu’s health problems have been essentially fixed, Qijiu might actually work their shit out, Shen Yuan shares his real name with Shang Qinghua, and so on and so forth. 

It felt like a good contrast with and buildup towards Luo Binghe’s Skinner mistake (not everything is rosy yet, there are still growing problems), the secret basement, and the encounter with Bing-Ge. 

Only to flip that around and then bring some surprise Moshang into things! 

- 

“I have now been informed that, after learning that you had returned and, at the very least, completing the duties that were intended to have him reflect on his actions, he has disappeared yet again,” Shen Qingqiu continues. “This second disappearance has set some of the other junior disciples into a renewed panic, which has concerned some of the senior disciples, which was, apparently, cause to alert me.”   

 “Ah,” Shang Qinghua says. 

-

AN: Shen Jiu should not be in charge of a bunch of children, but it is funny to imagine him going through the same “be a less shit person” adoption process as Shang Qinghua. Like, oh, it would be so easy for him to be cruel about this situation, but fuck you if he’s going to be outdone in the recovery and redemption process by Shang Qinghua of all people. 

Shang Qinghua: *grows into a kind of decent person* 

Shen Jiu: “Fuck you. That’s not allowed.” 

Shen Jiu: “...” 

Shen Jiu: “Well, if THAT FUCKER of all people can do it...” 

- 

 Shang Qinghua doesn’t have to look long or far to find his nephew. He finds the young protagonist sitting despondently on the doorstep of his own Leisure House, sniffling into his sleeve. Peerless Cucumber of all people is sitting beside him and keeping him company. 

  “Focusing on other people’s lives is easier than looking at his own.” 

 “-think a drowning man first has to save himself… or else he’s only going to bring down the people he’s trying to save,” Peerless Cucumber is saying. 

 Binghe nods. 

- 

AN: Going by, like, the everything of SVSSS, Shen Yuan really is the asshole going, “I’ll die before I look inwards to recognize and deal with my own emotions.” Also, going, “Yes, I’m a hypocrite who won’t take my own advice. And what about it?” What a repressed nerd. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua clears his throat to get their attention. Both kids (well, teenager and young adult, but still...  kids)  look up and then stand up quickly. Luo Binghe takes a forgetful step forward, before he wobbles into an appropriate respectful bow instead. 

 “Shang-Shishu!” 

  “How dearly this boy is loved!”  the Weeper’s Eye declares, in its soft way inside Shang Qinghua’s head.  “More than life itself! More than death itself!” 

 “Ah, never mind all that,” Shang Qinghua says, and steps forward to wrap his nephew in a quick hug instead, keeping the creepy talking eye oriented away from his nephew. “You’re a little too late to talk to me about your mission before your shizun did.” 

 Binghe, who was just relaxing into the unexpected hug, freezes. 

 Shang Qinghua knowingly pats the poor young protagonist on the back.

  “Oh, shit” is right! 

- 

AN: Uncle Shang really is adorable. Still kind of knocks me for a loop writing it, though, given that the SVSSS SQH and LBH relationship is... nothing like this whatsoever. Look upon the field of SQH and LBH content and see that it is relatively barren except for the stubborn motherfuckers with excellent taste in character exploration. 

-

  “Ahhh, well, I’ll be there too for this potential family reunion, bro,” Shang Qinghua assures him. “Maybe we can finally get to the bottom of where this ‘Shen Yuan’ name came from.” 

 Peerless Cucumber makes a strange expression. 

 “What?” 

 “...It’s my name.” 

 “What?” Shang Qinghua repeats. 

 “It’s my name,” Peerless Cucumber says again, quietly. “It’s my real name.” 

 “Oh.” 

  “Huh,” Shang Qinghua thinks, having been operating on the assumption that the System made the name up for its mysterious backstory. Well, that gives new dimensions to Peerless Cucumber’s criticism of the scum villain! 

 “You can use it,” Peerless Cucumber says, with an air of determined nonchalance. “Everyone else is doing it.” 

 “Ah, alright. Thanks.” 

- 

AN: This is probably the part where I would have made Shang Qinghua reveal his original name in turn... IF HE HAD ONE. It drives me... kind of wild that we get the Airplane Extras and we STILL don’t get 1) Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky’s original name, and 2) MOBEI-JUN’s name. 

Which actually makes things a little more interesting here, in my opinion, even though not having those names gets a little frustrating in terms of fanfiction writing. With Mobei-Jun, you get to explore the fucked up possibilities of him not having a name outside of his identity as the future Northern King. With Shang Qinghua, you get to explore him being a squirrelly little fuck who refuses to let anyone into his life. 

So, because we don’t have Airplane’s name, we actually get this mildly interesting dynamic in which Shang Qinghua doesn’t even really think to reveal it to Shen Yuan. We don’t see this part, but Shen Yuan is actually a little miffed by this degree of secrecy, which is going to come up later. (Shen Yuan doesn’t like the fact that Shang Qinghua has as much power over him as he does.) 

I personally do not hold the headcanon that Airplane’s name was “Shang Qinghua”. It’s a little too on the nose for me. At that point, the only reaction to transmigrating into SQH kind of has to be, “Ah, well, I was asking for that!” Maybe Airplane projected his worst qualities onto Shang Qinghua, but I don’t think he went so far as to give the character his own name. 

Airplane’s main identity when he died appears to have been Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky, and we know that he wasn’t particularly close to his divorced parents and any step- or half-siblings. So, the only names that are really relevant post-transmigration are “Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky” and “Shang Qinghua”. By the time that SY gets here, he’s firmly entrenched in those identities, and his original name is completely irrelevant. I could honestly believe that Airplane just doesn’t think it matters anymore. 

- 

 Shang Qinghua’s nephew, in the way of a true young protagonist or  fucking cannon fodder, got the bright fucking idea to slip away to speak with the concubine called Butterfly privately. 

 “I thought: what if she didn’t want to speak in front of that lecherous old man? What if she wanted to get away from him?” Binghe confesses. 

 “She was the demon,” Shang Qinghua guesses. 

 Binghe nods, voice breaking. “It was…  I was  really,  really stupid, Uncle.” 

 “Well, at least you know that,” Shang Qinghua sighs, and pats his sniffly nephew on the back again. 

 Oh, he can see why Shen Qingqiu was  pissed the fuck off now. Shang Qinghua kind of wants to start yelling! Or maybe just screaming, coherently or otherwise! 

 Except yelling isn’t going to help much right now. 

 Shang Qinghua listens as Luo Binghe recounts being captured by the demon and then waking up bound by Immortal Binding Cables - of being so terrified that he could barely breathe with it. His only hope was Ning Yingying and Ming Fan tattling on his disappearance and a senior disciple tracking him down on time. The skinner demon apparently nearly killed Binghe, crooning over his young and beautiful skin, except a flash of warm light intervened and dropped an unstable part of the ceiling in on them before they could hurt the captured protagonist. 

 “Fu-Shijie and Shizun arrived after that and k-killed it,” Binghe says. “Uncle, it was all  stupid luck!  Shizun said I should have been dead and that, between my efforts and the demon’s, he had no idea how I wasn't! And he was right! It was  so close! If the ceiling hadn’t fallen in like that-! Fu-Shijie suggested the ropes might be faulty and it could have been an unconscious use of spiritual energy, but I didn’t do anything! It wasn’t me!” 

 It  sounds like the System to Shang Qinghua, intervening again at a crucial moment to prevent the premature death of the protagonist. Just thinking about how close his nephew came to dying without him knowing is nearly enough to inspire a cold sweat! Shang Qinghua can’t speak about the System, so all he can really do is keep hugging! Keep holding on for dear life and saying soothing nothings to his crying nephew! 

- 

AN: I wanted to include the Skinner mission, but I didn’t want to redo it onscreen because that’s been done in many fanfictions before and I felt that there was really no good reason for Shang Qinghua to be a part of it. The reason I wanted to include it is to show how the plot is off the track of the SVSSS (and PIDW) stories, with the changed LBH and the changed Original SQQ. 

LBH wants to be a hero, but he’s not there yet. 

- 

 “...Don’t put yourself above him… or below him. Tell him what you want and listen to what he wants, and don’t be surprised if things don’t change all at once,” Shang Qinghua advises and, at Yue Qingyuan’s look, quickly raises his hands. “Ahhh, not my business, I know! Not my business! I just… I hope it works out! I hope you two get something better out of this mess! Aha, make the sect meetings a little less awkward and… things.” 

  “He has never known what better looks like. He will always be Yue Qi, the slave boy. No matter what he does.” 

 “...Thank you,” Yue Qingyuan says finally, thoughtfully. “I appreciate your… restraint in this matter… in recent months.” 

 Aha, yikes. 

-

AN: I know that some people wanted more stomping on Yue Qingyuan, but... like... this man is as or nearly as traumatized as Shen Qingqiu. His childhood fucking sucked. He broke his own soul trying to save Shen Jiu and failed. He made some shit decisions where Shen Qingqiu was concerned, but the logic and trauma he’s operating on are pretty obvious. He was trying. 

Part of the theme around the Qijiu and Moshang arcs has also been “an eye for an eye”. Like, are you guys really going to keep on not communicating with each other and then fucking up and then taking chunks out of each other? How many misunderstandings and upset over misunderstandings are you going to throw at each other? Where do you put your foot down and say, “I don’t want to live like this forever. We can be better than this. I want better than this.” 

Like, it can’t just be hurting each other back and forth (this applies to Qijiu more than Moshang, in which MBJ definitely carries the weight of this fuck-up). It can’t just be privately nursing hurt feelings forever. The options here are “fix it” or “live like this forever”. Fixing it won’t happen immediately, but the other option fucking sucks, so every little step helps. 

So Shang Qinghua here is just like, “Bro, I’m tired. My anger has cooled a lot. I just want all our lives to suck less. I hope things work out for you.” 

[binunus]

college bf!mj

a/n AH !!!! THE ANNOUNCEMENT OF THE ASTRO COMEBACK ???? APRIL 5TH ??? WHAT A TIME TO BE ALIVE LOVES !! i genuinely...do not know if I will be able to survive this month bc of them. 

(also i tried to get this posted on mj’s birthday but I’m so sorry a lot of shit happened and I had a ~bad mental breakdown~ and it’s just been rough out here but that’s a story for another time if any of you lovely beings wanna know hehe)

→ genre: fluff, smut

→ tw: mentions of cheating (in past relationships)

→ word count: 4.9k ____________________________________

KIM MYUNGJUN !!

A LIVING REINCARNATION OF THE SUN

this is gonna be so cute i just !! love him so much???

has his own apartment, but he honestly stays over all of the boys’ places so much that...he barely sleeps at his apt

major: vocal performance

his voice is literally honey

can probably sing higher than some sopranos in his major

so friendly, everyone who meets him loves him

mj just has a way of attracting people and making people comfortable around him

in short, he is – of course – the moodmaker

can turn anyone’s frown upside down

he’s down?? for like everything

an adventurous spontaneous type

has...probably failed a ged ed class once or twice before...

he’s not stupid okay! he just doesn’t really care about the classes that has no connection to his major

like will he ever apply calculus in singing? probably not

oh but professors can’t hate him, even if he just messes around during class

he’s just so kind and likeable

loves his boys aka astro

will literally do anything to make them smile, even if he’s had a rough day

as long as his boys are happy :’) he’s happy :’)

now how do you meet myungjun??

he’s in an acapella group on campus

he just has to be alright

he was the only freshman that got in during his first year

that shows how good he is :*

a tenor in the highly competitive co-ed group

spoiler alert, he convinces sanha to join, but that’s for college bf!sanha

myungjun is what me and my friends like to call: the solo whore

and it’s not bc he’s greedy for solos, he’s a real team player

his voice just happens to sound the best for most solos your group has??

you’re also in the acapella group

im not giving a voice part bc then that would put you in a binary category

so soprano, alto, tenor, baritone, bass, you pick love

anyway, you and myungjun were chosen to sing a duet for one of your competition pieces

and it was the key emotional piece so you and him had to be on your A games

you and myungjun were friends ofc, you had to be some sort of friends with everyone in your acapella group

but you never really hung out with him outside of rehearsal

well until you got this duet together

and you weren’t worried about it, mj was so fun and nice and an amazing singer, you had no doubt these extra practices with him would be a good time

and you were right! besides singing, you actually got a chance to get to know him and how goofy he really was

you’re pretty sure you always had an ab workout whenever you hung out with him bc of how much he made you laugh

about a month away from competition, you and myungjun were like best buds

literally a chaotic, iconic duo

the chemistry you two had during your duet was spectacular, your voices highlighted and bounced off each other very well

but! your leader had a little critique

“y/n, myungjun, that was great but...can you guys pretend to look...like in love? I get we’re all friends here, but if you can’t convey the emotion of the song in our performance, what’s the point? This goes for everyone, this is a song about how much you love your partner and would give them the world, we need to show that in our eyes and movements, even if you’re just singing ooh and woah for like 10 measures.”

you and myungjun decide to stay after rehearsal and practice the emotions you guess...

your leader had a point, good singing could only go so far

and for the first time, myunjun was a bit...? awkward??

you: alright so how are we gonna pretend to be madly in love with each other

he chuckles and shrugs: honestly I don’t know, look at me like I’m your boyfriend or something??

you: well, I hate my last boyfriend so that probably wouldn’t be a good idea

myungjun offering you a high-five: I hate...well I think I hate...my last partner too so at least we have that

you: how do you think you hate your last partner? are you not dating anyone right now?

he gives you a smile and like you notice it’s forced?? it’s not genuine or bright like the one he usually gives

mj: no I’m not dating anyone...my last relationship sorta traumatized me I guess. 

you: ...how did it traumatize you...? you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to myungjun

mj: ah *awkward laughter* well...I was sorta going through it my senior year of high school, stress from graduating and what to do with my life and all that shit, you know? I dated this person since my freshman year and I guess my mental health got the best of me during that time and they couldn’t handle it. We were planning on staying together throughout college and do long distance but I found out in the summer before starting college that they fucked my high school best friend behind my back...when I confronted them about it, the answer they gave me was that I was too down and preoccupied with my worries to notice about my partner’s needs...pretty fucked up right?

your jaw dropped, your eyes were bulging out at his story

you: myungjun what the fuck??? what college do they go to? I’ll pull up right now and beat their asses, I don’t know scream in their face or something! That’s fucked!

he’s laughing a little: thanks y/n, but it’s alright. You know, maybe I was too caught up in my own problems that I ended up neglecting my partner’s needs...I guess that’s why I’m always just trying to be carefree and fun now.

you: that doesn’t justify the fact that what they did to you was wrong. you should have never gone through that myungjun, it’s not your fault that you were going through it mentally, your partner should have been there to support you and understand your struggles, not cheat on you with your best friend. ugh I’m pissed for you. 

mj: I appreciate it y/n, but yeah love’s sorta a hard subject for me.

you nod in understanding

mj: well! that’s my traumatic breakup story, it’s only fair you share yours

you laugh: you’re right. Well I was dating this guy right when I entered college, met him at the freshman orientation, completely hit it off. I was so in love with him, we dated for about a year. And then last semester he broke up with me out of nowhere, said he wanted to focus on school and himself and that he needed a break from dating. I found out two days later that he started dating one of his suite mates and that on the night he broke up with me, they fucked. So love? also something hard for me.

mj: aww look at us both unable to find or relate to love because of past relationship traumas.

you hit his shoulder laughing: you’re such a headass

mj: I’m kidding! anyway, I’m sorry you went through that too y/n. it sucks and your ex is a dumbass for breaking up with you. Do you still have feelings for him? w-wait, you don’t have to answer that, was that insensitive?

you: you’re fine haha. Um...well...sometimes when I overthink things at night, I do miss him and I wonder what the hell I did wrong for it to end so abruptly because I was honestly really happy with him, but then I wake up in the morning and I hate him again. 

mj: you did nothing wrong y/n...and if you need to call me at 2 am when you’re overthinking and need some badass confidence knocked into you, I will be awake.

you smile and give him a hug: thanks myungjun...you know the same goes for you too?

mj: hm??? what do you mean??

you: you don’t always have to smile around me, especially if you don’t feel like it. Don’t repress your mental health, huh? It’s bad for the soul to bottle it in. I’m not gonna force you to share your darkest fears with me, I’m just saying that if you feel drained and wanna talk about it, I’m here to listen

myungjun pouts a little bit, he’s really touched?? it’s hard for him to share his troubles with others

like as much as he loves astro and is close to them, he doesn’t share his down sides with the boys as often as he should bc he never wants to burden them

myungjun just always thought it was easier to suppress the bad feelings and put on a happy act

but he couldn’t deny the weight lifted off his shoulders after telling you about his breakup

and maybe it was because your energies were on a different level lately, but he found it so?? easy?? to just vent to you after that

until competition, the two of you worked on faking like you were in love (basically imagining that each other was your favorite actor/actress or whatever, something like that)

it was good enough for the group to believe it lol

but what about the judges and audience hmmmmm

anyway, fast forward and it’s competition day!!

myungjun introduces you to his best friends aka the boysss aka astro

they come and support him for his competition ugh we love

you’re like smiling and hyper when you meet them

...has myungjun been rubbing off on you???

you: it’s so nice to meet you all! myungun always talks so highly of you

astro: huh?? you’re lying, myungjun hyung complimenting us???

and then they start messing and friendly bickering with each other and yes they’re teasing mj

you’re laughing bc it’s so cute?? you can see in their eyes and their smiles how much they really care about each other :’)

also astro, probably jin or eunwoo, maybe rocky: we’re sorry if m hyung has driven you to insanity these past few months of rehearsing

you just laugh as myungjun hits them: myungjun’s actually been like my partner in crime lately, so we’re all good :)

*cue the boys exchanging looks with each other*

you perform ah ha ha

alright, you were so used to thinking that myungjun was...idk kim soohyun or something bc mm chef’s kiss his acting...to get into the emotion of the song

but then during the actual performance you saw him as myungjun and like all the hard work and extra practices and late night talks came in full force and you were just...singing to him

and you notice how...handsome?? and charismatic?? myungjun really is...and the little sparkle in his eyes when he’s performing like...wow

and after your set, you’re just like shit, what the fuck was that??

your group doesn’t win though, you place second!

but you and myungjun get awarded best solo/duet of the entire competition

astro: ;)

your acapella group: ;)

the judges: ;)

alright so im a firm believer that if myungjun had feelings for someone, he would straight up tell them like balls to the wall full fucking send

after competition, the routine of school comes back. you occasionally hang out with myungjun outside of rehearsal

by occasionally, I mean once a week hangout with myungjun (and astro bc they started inviting you to their dinners)

and then one night – at midnight – he calls you like out of pocket and his tone is like completely serious

you’re a bit scared?? like: myungjun...is everything okay? did something happen?

mj: y/n...can I ask you something?

you: yeah, of course

mj: do you still think about your ex?

you: o_o um...honestly no, not really...why?

mj: well, if I’m being honest. y/n, I have feelings for you. And i’m not asking you to like me back or give me an answer straight away, but I just wanted to let you know. If you don’t think about your ex anymore, and if you think you’re ready...maybe you can consider thinking of me??

mmmmm kim myungjun you slick flirty dog grrr bark bark

and you know how he can just talk, and talk fast, so you’re still in the middle of processing this and he just goes on like

“sleep on it, y/n. I’ll see you soon for rehearsal, okay? good night”

like you don’t even have a chance to respond to him bc he just hangs up the phone

you think about it, of course you think about it, you’ve been thinking about it ever since competition

having feelings for myungjun has always been in the back of your mind since then

like did you notice that when you hung out with him, your heart would flutter if he said something sweet?? or if you two were a bit too close to each other?? 100%

but you didn’t know if either of you were ready for another relationship so it’s just been put on the back burner

at the next acapella practice, you find that your cheeks just flush whenever myungjun looks your way

the rehearsal went a bit??? weird?? like even your group noticed that there was a bit of a tension between you and myungjun

but of course, he goes up and talks to you after rehearsal ended and he’s like: hey...I’m sorry if my confession made you feel weird, I didn’t mean for that at all. If you want, we can just forget about what I said and stay friends! 

you just facepalm like: myungjun you idiot, I’m acting weird because I like you too. God, you know maybe the boys are right, maybe you need to shut your mouth for a little bit

and he whines like: hey!

but then he realizes what you said and he gives you the brightest smile: you mean it?? you like me back??

and you’re like shyly smiling now: yeah...I do...but do you want to take the next step?? I mean...do you think you’re ready for another relationship??

he gets like serious and he grabs your hand: not gonna lie, I don’t think I’ll ever be fully ready after my last one...but if there’s someone I wanna try it with, it’s you.

:’) kim !!! myung !!! jun !!!

dating myungjun?? the best thing ever

the cutest boy alive honestly

he has so much cute and goofy in him already with just friends and strangers

but with you, it’s increased tenfold

even you start to act cute and goofy after dating him

petnames?? bub and bubby

myungjun is not serious about a lot of things, but he is very serious about his feelings for you and your relationship

y’all take things at your own pace and he !! values !! consent !! even if it’s just like making out

he just doesn’t wanna mess things up with you :’)

the type of boyfriend to sing you to sleep ah !!! his voice is heaven alright

will be extra about pda in front of the guys to make them grossed out

and yes you get embarrassed, but myungjun’s too cute to scold

you get used to a lot of second-hand embarrassment dating him and being friends with the boys

but it’s just so endearing, you can’t even fight it

will swing your arms together when you’re out just walking

screams he’s so cute

you don’t really fight bc communicating with each other is one of the biggest things in your relationship

like if a disagreement or a situation comes up, you two are mature enough to talk it through and work things out bc you both already been knew what it’s like to be in a relationship that didn’t have full transparency

you do jokingly bicker about small things though (like think about how astro fights)

but he always ends fights by scooping you up in a hug and showering your face with kisses

loves kissing your nose

just imagine: you and myungjun cuddling and he just kisses your nose and you scrunch up your face and he just laughs and kisses you all over and you two end up giggling

will do anything to see a smile on your face, it’s the greatest sight to him

alright we been talking too much about how cute myungjun is

he’s also a hot motherfucker alright

the most attractive when he’s singing in your opinion

you know how charismatic he is, you’ve seen it first hand during rehearsal and performances

he’s very good at hiding his horniness, especially in public

but phew when you two are in private and myungjun’s in the mood

you can tell bc his eyes just get hazy and he immediately just starts kissing your neck

a very passionate lover, will prioritize your pleasure over his

sex with myungjun can go from being sweet and sensual, to fun and playful, to hot and exciting

by that...I mean that he is down to try every kink and position you can think of

as long as both of you are okay with it ofc

he’s one of the kinkiest members in astro im convinced

blindfolds? bondage? ice cubes? wax play?

you want it? you got it

he’s not into feet though, i apologize to my foot fetish lovers

his favorite position is actually missionary

myungjun loves being able to watch you and to see how good he’s making you feel

in missionary is when he feels the most connected to you, it’s just a passionate position

and yes he’s very vocal, so you betcha he encourages you to be vocal as well

will try to mess with you in a sense where say you two are hanging out with the guys, he’ll touch you and challenge you to not make a noise

and then he’ll snicker and wink at you if you even let out a peep

he’s a tease !!! like will edge you until you’re on the brink of cumming at least 3 times

myungjun has pretty good stroke game alright

very fluid with his hips, idk he just knows all the right spots to hit

praise...kink...that’s the tweet, need I say more

he’s into hair pulling !! both ways !! 

okay hear me out...myungjun fucking you and pulling your hair until your screaming and then after you both cum, he’s like: you hit a high f earlier bub! I almost wanted to harmonize with you but–

you: myungjun are you serious!

sex with him would always just be a fun time, like he’s hot and grrr it feels so good but there’s always a bit of laughing and joking around in the process

like he will tickle you before he puts his cock in you just to see the switch of you laughing to moaning

alright but shower sex?? he’s into that

and just the acoustics of both of your sounds in the bathroom?? it’s so filthy he loves it – and it’s easy to clean up afterwards

you bet that after any performance with your group, the two of you have sex, even if it’s just a quickie in an empty practice room or whatever

no shame, will kick the boys out or announce “we’re going to fuck bye!” if you or him get too horny in the middle of a hangout

im just gonna throw this out here...you and myungjun...mile high club

(your group competed in an acapella competition and the flight there...it just happened)

all in all, myungjun just wants to make you happy and feel good and smile, even if you two just finished an intense sex session

let’s get into the deep stuff though, you are the only person myungjun is comfortable with to not show a smile all the time

even with the boys, there’s always a small part of him that wants to just push through and be optimistic just so that they won’t worry

but with you, he knows that it’s okay to be sad and to be vulnerable :’)

when myungjun cries bc he’s upset :( fuck you cry too

he loves when you just hug him and stroke his hair when he’s stressed

very showy about your relationship, not bc he’s braggy, but bc he just wants to show the world how happy you make him and that he’s in love <3

the boys are so happy to see their eldest in love :’)

they don’t show it around each other, but they’ve come up to you in private and say sweet things like

“you make myungjun hyung so happy, he always brings joy to everyone but you bring joy to him, thank you”

im !! getting !! sentimental !!

the day you found out myungjun was in love with you was the day you met his parents

‘twas a bit spontaneous

his parents came to see one of your group performances and myungjun’s like holding your hand and leading you somewhere after you get off stage and he’s like “bub! these are my parents!”

you end up getting dinner with his family and yikes you were hella nervous, you were not expecting on meeting his parents right after your performance

not gonna lie, you thought he was leading you to the car for some post-performance sex

but they adored you, his parents could see how much you meant to their son ugh I cry

anyway, the L word

as you’re finishing dinner, myungjun’s all giddy and just like

“I’m so glad you came and watched mom and dad, the timing was perfect too! I wanted to introduce you to y/n for a while now and have you meet the person I love.”

and his parents are just smiling at you and saying how they’re so happy to finally meet you and how you have an amazing voice and to take care of myungjun and you’re !!! just !!! blushing !!!

as soon as you both got in the car after saying goodbye to his parents, he’s just like: hope I didn’t surprise you too much bubby, I didn’t know my parents were coming to watch until like an hour before we went on stage

you just give him a little smile: I was a bit caught off guard, but it’s okay. Your parents are so sweet, I see where you get it from bub.

myungjun: I can tell that they love you already! well of course not as much as I do, but with time I know they’ll come pretty close

and you’re blushing again, it’s the L word: do you mean it myungjun?

myungjun: that my parents love you?? of course–

you: no, bub...that you...love me?

myungjun: yeah...unless you don’t feel the same way–

you: myungjun! no, of course I do! I just wasn’t expecting the first time to hear it was with your parents

you two are laughing, ugh this man

after your giggles subside, he leans over from the driver’s seat and he just cups your cheek and pecks your nose: I love you y/n, thank you for reminding me what love feels like

you: I love you too myungjun

and then you two are just like sharing a sweet kiss in the parking lot of the restaurant before starting the drive back to his place

do you and myungjun make duets together for fun and post it?? yeah probably

you are the luckiest dating myungjun, the living breathing embodiment of serotonin and love

even when you two are older and out of college, he still gives you the same affection and attention and authenticity ugh he’s just amazing

im so sorry this was late but happy belated to our happy virus <3

3-12-21