#tw functioning labels

[clownrecess]

(TW functioning labels, ableism, meltdowns, doctors, etc.)

I was diagnosed as autistic when I was 10, and I was more specifically diagnosed with "High functioning autism". The person my psychiatrist saw was me on easy days, on days when I was fully calm, on days when I could easily communicate, and had no other job than to sit and do what she told me to do.

She hadn't seen me go fully mute for months on end, she hadn't seen me fully unable to take care of my basic needs, she hadn't seen me have violent meltdowns, she hadn't seen me hit and bite myself because I couldn't identify my emotions, she hadn't seen me run into the street because I have nothing in my brain telling me not to, she hadn't seen me unable to change clothes for multiple days, she hadn't seen me only able to shower once a week, she hadn't seen me unable to properly exist in gened, she hadn't seen me have severe meltdowns over a change I liked just because I didnt expect it, she hadn't seen me put a small hole in a wall during a meltdown, she hadn't seen me as a full time AAC user, she hadn't seen me as a part time AAC user, she hadn't seen me unable to sleep without an intensely large amount of nightlights, she hadn't seen me unable to bathe myself until age 9 or 10, etc.

She saw me in a calm state, once every few months, on days when I could communicate easily and do what she asked. That is all she saw of me, her asking me questions, having me do things, and asking my mom questions.

If she saw me, and I was the way I described in front of her, my diagnosis would probably be closer to something like "moderate functioning autism".

But here's the thing, ON DIFFERENT DAYS, I FIT DIFFERENT CRITERIA FOR DIFFERENT TYPES OF AUTISM DIAGNOSES.

My ability to "Function" varies so so much, and this makes functioning labels extremely inaccurate.

Now, let's use support needs to describe me. I am a person who's support needs fluctuate from med-high. I have med-high support needs. This is accurate for me, and it is not ableist.

I wanted to talk about this to describe how functioning labels suck, and also to talk about how support needs fluctuate; and that is okay.

[i-may-be-an-emu]

"So, are you high functioning or low functioning?"

"Bold of you to assume I'm functioning."

[notabled-noodle]

earlier today i was talking to my mum about autism & stuff and she referred to me as high functioning and when i tried to tell her that i am very much not high-functioning and she just ignored me

oh no. I’ve only been referred to as high-functioning once before, and it was by a therapist of all people. apparently all people of all education levels are susceptible to falling for the functioning levels bullshit

all that aside — I’m very sorry that your mum didn’t listen to you, and I hope that she learns to pay attention to both your needs and the language you feel comfortable using to describe those needs

[xo8ball]

woah i think its been a year since i started suspecting (and identifying) that i have autism, and i feel. glad.

I remember having this horrible, horrible breakdown about not knowing what was "wrong" with me. Nothing ever was wrong with me, i was just different. I just had some things and didnt have some other things, and that made me human and normal, just not like my peers, and i still can and should fit it and be accepted.

Though, this was the longest journey of self acceptance, i've always had a big problem with my own self id, so self dxing was something im always scared of because (by my therapist's words.. yeah i got really mad at that) "my anxiety makes me absorb traits i search up, so i end up believing things that i am not part of or even experienced". Which is totally not true all my whole life i've been the weird, quiet, excellently academic, nerdy, lonely, socially inept queer kid and because i was raised a girl and im "high functioning" (bad label) nobody ever tried to think a little to why i am experiencing bad burnouts in my high school years about social life.

I've always thought autism was a weight, and i kind of still think its heavy on my shoulders. Its not an easy thing to say, for me, that i have autism. its a harsh word in where i live, and other autistic people that my peers know are "low functioning", so they think its dumb comparing the same traits we share because we both have autism, it just expresses differently .

I do have friends and a loving partner, i like to talk and sometimes do a nice small talk, i go to parties (not frequently) and see my family (very frequently). but i get burnouts, i get isolated, i hate ugly specific noises, i get sensory issues, i bond better with individuals with the same characteristics as me, or children, or animals, i have special interests that keep me very happy and talking for hours, im "weird" and say things out of context or un-needed, i have gastrointestinal problems too if that matters (haha), i cant socialize correctly because i show disinterest in some activities, im good at school but i cant function correctly without drawing the whole class because it helps me paying attention while eliminating the art from my brain (last year i got the 2nd place in highest academic score in my class, by drawing the whole year.), i zone out and get uncomfortable by eye contact or physical touch i have not asked, i stim and enjoy repetitive behaviors, i have to listen to my music alone once a day to charge my social battery. i have autism, i am autistic, and im on the spectrum, and i live and breathe and exist because i am human too.

this counts as a vent right? I'll keep on crochet (new interest 🧶)

[my-autism-adhd-blog]

Functioning Labels

Autisticality

[icannotgetoverbirds]

saw an exclusionist post so here's a reminder

specifically in reference to transmasc lesbians and trying to draw lines in the sand on who can and can't claim the lesbian label, about how being a lesbian is exclusive of loving men, with someone referring to the people they're attempting to exclude as "fandom gremlin transmascs and neo-mogai crazies."

I don't have the spoons for a proper response but i do feel like i need to make something clear.

on this blog we support fucky genders, fandom gremlin transmascs, and neo-mogai crazies. reblog if u love ur fellow fandom gremlin and neo-mogai crazy queers.

[semiverbal-culture-is]

Functioning labels make no sense to me. 

"High" functioning and "low" functioning, what the hell is that supposed to mean? Do "high" functioning never need help? Can "low" functioning not do anything themself? 

What if I'm in between? Is there no other word? Just two extremes? 

This is why I perfer the labels autistic community have come up with, low support needs, mid support needs, and high support needs. 

At least I know where I fall, mid support needs, but what do that tell? 

Does it tell you sometimes I'm better alone? Does it tell you sometimes I need clear guidance? Does it tell you there's things I can do, and does it tell you there's things I can't? Does it tell you that those things change all the time?

Technically it does, but it don't tell you what. Support needs fluctuate. What terms do I use? 

Seems like the same struggle again and again to tell that I have autism, but at different levels. My verbalness fluctuate. My support needs fluctuate. My gender and sexuality too. Am I a fluid person, sometimes someone else? 

[thefiresofpompeii]

session with the psychiatrist today and he finalised getting me a s*roquel prescription… upon a google i discovered that one of the most common side effects is supposedly weight gain so now i am actually considering the preferred alternative option of recovery which is k*lling m*self

[healingwgabs]

having a mental illness assumes that you exp a clinically signigicant level of occupational, social, academic, etc, dysfunction and impairment, distress, are a danger to self and/or others, in a way that is a deviation from the "norm"... "high-functioning" does not exist.. u have a milder case of whatever disorder is being discussed (which is a good hopeful thing!) if you are able to "function" in ways others with a more severe case arent

[lovelybunnyxx]

Tutoring Sessions ― Tsukishima Kei

TW: NSFW, Slight Degradation

❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥ ❥

Imagine having to hire Tsukishima as your math tutor in college because he's the top of the class, and you're 99% certain that you will fail if you don't. 

He's a huge dick. You find that out quickly when he scoffs at how much you offer to pay him for helping you, despite the fact it's how much most tutors charge. He eventually agrees to tutor you, with the condition that you will buy him food while he helps you, telling you that you're so desperate that he's helping you out of pity. Reluctantly, you accept his help because you don't have many other options. He is the best chance you have at passing the class.

The first few sessions almost entirely consist of him scoffing and rolling his eyes, calling you a dumbass or an idiot every time you get an answer wrong. So when it is time for your fourth session, you're already dreading the next two hours that are to come before you even make it into the library.

But you never could have imagined things going like this, your knuckles white from how hard you're gripping the edge of the table, trying to focus on anything other than the three slim fingers buried inside your cunt and the thumb rubbing tight circles around your clit. "C'mon, we just went over this one," Tsukishima scoffs, pushing his glasses up on his face with his other hand. "I know you're not very smart, but you do at least have the ability to think, right? Or are you just a dumb bimbo who can only think with her pussy?" Tsukishima mocks in a quiet voice.

His words make you whimper slightly, clenching tighter around his fingers. You're grateful that the library is empty today, and the librarian is too busy labeling books to notice what is happening. "T-Tsukishima," you whisper, but he just clicks his tongue and circles your clit faster. 

"What theorem states that every function that results from the differentiation of another function has the intermediate value property?" Tsukishima asks you again. 

"T-The Darboux's theorem?" You answer hesitantly, your breath hitching when he slightly curls his fingers inside you. 

"Mhm..yes, that's correct. It seems like you do have a small brain up there, after all," Tsukishima says, his voice tinged with amusement. "At least now I know that I just have to treat you like a slut in order to make you think. Who knows, as long as we continue to do tutoring sessions like this, maybe you'll pass the class after all." 

[clownrecess]

(Tw for ableism and lack of autonomy)

I want to talk about the issues with touching somebody's AAC device, and how it feels when people do that to me.

I've spoken about this a bit before, but I have more thoughts on it now that I feel like expressing.

People touch my device a lot, and they very rarely have permission. Whether its because they want to prevent me from moving too far away so they'll grab my devices strap, or they press random buttons, or pull it toward them, or push in my puffy stickers, or to search through my private folder, or something else, people tend to touch my AAC device without my consent. It has gotten to the point that my lockscreen has to say "My communication device functions as a body part, do not touch it without my direct consent." And I have a label on the back of the case that says "COMMUNICATION DEVICE PLEASE DO NOT TOUCH!".

When people do these things it feels extremely invasive, like someone touching your mouth or putting their hands in your throat. Its gross, uncomfortable, scary and weird.

It is also super important to note that a lot of nonspeaking people have sensory issues. You have lotion on your hands? The lotion rubbing off may have just ruined that persons device until cleaned. Also, bacteria is very much a thing.

I have to wipe down my device with sanitary wipes a lot, because I set it on all sorts of surfaces, and lots of people touch it. People who probably have dirty hands.

I personally don't, but some people attach chewies to their AAC device, or bite on the case. That makes the sanitary issues even more intense.

I also stim using tangles a lot, and I also have a ton of anxiety around children touching me or my things. Last school year, a kid at my school touched one of my tangles despite me telling him not to, and then I was unable to use that one for at least a month. My point of bringing that up is just, please don't touch peoples things without permission, especially disability aids.

[capn-twitchery]

hi hello question what is Up with twitchs eyes? sir what happened to you??

you can give the vaguest answer if you want im just 👀?????

(referencing this post (eye horror tw))

oh, y'know,,,because of The Bees

more specifically, twitch was a red honey hive for a while. long enough that they had all of their memories harvested

their memories of their time in the honey cages are fuzzy, but their memories of the time before are entirely broken beyond repair

see, the more reputable honey harvesters keep their red honey labelled with the victim it was harvested from. some prisoners, including twitch, started making escape plans. on the way out, they would find their batch of honey and drink it to recover their memories. foolproof!

it didn't work, of course--the staff knew something was up as soon as twitch was out of the cage first. they took their chance anyway, even without the others...they had to, right??

but when you're mid prison break, there's no time to pick out specific jars of honey. they ran, grabbed a few jars, prayed they were their own memories, and committed to destroying as many jars as possible on their way out (a cage garden lost thousands of echoes that day)

once they were safe, they downed each jar and the rest is a blur. red honey wasn't exactly made to chug a bunch of it at once--they woke up confused and disoriented, without much recollection of why or how they got there, or even who they were.

at first, they didn't question the conflicting memories in their brain, but things don't seem to match up, and the decisions they make don't seem to make sense to anyone else. why do their morals seem to flip on a dime? why do their stories of the past clash with eachother--they told you yesterday they went to the surface, but they told you last week they were born in the Neath?

they don't like to focus on it, though. they get by! and they know how to zail, now. who they were before doesn't matter, because they're twitch now

(even if twitch is a handful of stranger's scrambled memories in a trenchcoat with no fucking clue who they are, pretending to be a functioning person)

((thank you for giving me the motivation to finally verbalise these thoughts hehe i've been meaning to for Ages >:3))

[ghoularaki]

Pls make a baji smut, he meets y/n tru mikey and he falling inlove with her and wanting to pursue, claim \mark her😏 we need a whole ass chase sis, hydrate our thirsty asses💦💦💦

bare your teeth for me

I GOTCHU, i do love me some primal play

tw yandere baji, aged up baji (27), dubcon/noncon, primal play, marking, forced submission, dacryphilia, size kink (6 foot baji ehehe), public sex, unprotected sex, creampie, hinted kidnapping

requests are OPEN

Childhood friends rarely last; this is what you learned as you grew older. Growing up in the same neighborhood as Mikey led to you two becoming close; not close enough to learn of his gang activity until misfortune fell upon you. Later learning that what once was simple delinquency morphed into something darker.

Naively, you wanted to stick by Mikey as you knew he was troubled. This led to meeting his less than savory friends—at best they ignored you, but at most they leered at your form. Malice dripped from their forked tongues, tempting as the snake to Eve. A nod and a simper was all you offered. You knew how men like them operated. Lacking in lascivious knowledge didn’t make you any less aware that the opposite sex came with fine print etched into the bottom of a contact. 

That’s where you met Baji. A boisterous man with fanged teeth and a sharper smile. Sure—he was like those men with cruel intentions, seemingly born with bloodied knuckles, and yet he was gentle.

At least with you. 

Baji knew how women like you functioned. Inquisitive at best and a smartass at worst. He was surprisingly shy around women, raised to treat them like royalty with his mother’s heavy hand. Never to fault the woman, he knew he was a lot and her scolding was out of love.

He never believed love at first sight until he saw your form attached to Mikey. Discomfort was apparent as you clung to him as an IV within a collapsing vein. This wasn’t the first time you have appeared at one of their meetings. For some reason, Mikey liked to show you off—a trophy or rather a matching accessory. One way or another, you two were connected simply from a strip of labeled concrete.

Mikey harbored no romantic feelings for you, this, Baji understood. Why else would Mikey never blink an eye to how he ate up your body? A hunger sat in his stomach. Worming around in his small intestine, begging to be devoured and digested. The lovely skin of your neck calling for his canines to sink into and never let go. 

He practiced his patience well, but with you in his sights, all those years of being beaten into a gentleman vanished. 

Across the round table of estranged men, Baji eyed you next to Mikey as usual. At this point, he stopped paying attention. Swirling around in his mind were the different ways he could take you. When he sunk inside of you, would you whimper or moan? Cry or mewl? How about if he bent you over the table in front of everyone? He could almost taste your cunny clenching around him from the shame and arousal. 

He licked his teeth- like a wolf about to eat the rabbit. Oh my, what a pretty bunny you would be for him. 

“Meeting adjourned.” Mikey’s voice called, breaking Baji from his thoughts.

Your shoulders sagged, relief written on your visage to finally be away from these gangsters.

 If only you knew what Baji had in mind for you. 

You got up, stretching your arms above your head, calling attention to your breasts. You must be doing it on purpose, Baji thought. 

“Go to the car, I’ll be there in a minute.” Mikey spoke to you.

Quirking up an eyebrow, you were visibly confused.

“Okay?”

Not wanting to upset him, you moved to the double doors, locking eyes with Baji’s molten hues. Nodding your head in acknowledgment, exchanging quick pleasantries with the feral, yet gentle man. 

Once you were out of earshot, Mikey waltzed over to the taller man. 

“Don’t break her too bad.” He left in the air before moving through another set of doors in the opposite direction.

A vicious grin cracked upwards as Baji processed the notion. With Mikey’s permission there was nothing holding him back. 

You should have known something was off the second Mikey commanded for you to leave on your own. The parking garage was eerie without another person with you. Luckily the lights didn’t flicker or else you would truly be in some horror movie fuck fest. 

Being on the top floor of the ten story cement building was always an inconvenience- even more so now. It boggled your mind why Mikey thought it was a good idea to have the car parked so high up. You shivered as a breeze made its way through the gaping walls. 

Sighing as your heeled feet clacked against the floor just wanting to get home faster. Your footsteps echoed. Echoed in the barren parking lot, a pair of feet copied yours. 

You stop.

The mimicking steps stopped. A second late.

Whipping around in fear, you were met with silent, parked cars greeting you. A hitch caught in your breath, you trusted your instincts. Quickening your pace, searching frantically for Mikey’s car. You rounded the corner, despising how this place was like a maze. 

There was Mikey’s ebony Cadillac among the other less expensive cars. It stuck out like a sore thumb, thankfully. Though As you advanced towards the Cadillac, a figure came out from the back. A very familiar figure.

Standing in all his six foot glory was Baji. His inky hair matching the Cadillac— glossy and deep in hue. A smug look struck on his winsome face, as if he knew something you didn’t. 

“Baji, what are you doing here?” Your question hung empty in the air.

Instead of answering, Baji took a hair tie from his wrist, elegantly tying his thick hair back with nimble fingers. 

You faltered at the movement. 

Grinning, he dropped his hands to stuff into his slacks.

“You have thirty seconds to run.”

“W-what?”

“One, two, three, four—”

Not wanting to tempt fate, as you were bartering on borrowed time, you pivoted your foot and started to race down the corridors.

 You quickly turned to the right to make it to the elevator, relying on the head start you were given. Slamming into the metal, you frantically hit the button. 

The neon numbers stay stuck on the third floor. 

“Fuck,” You seethed. Of course it wasn’t going to be that easy. You had no clue what Baji wanted from you, but it couldn’t be anything good. He was typically so gentle, even reclused with you, and yet here he was— initiating an impromptu game of tag. 

This time the consequences will be more than childish disappointment. 

Forgoing your original plan, you make your way to the exit of lot ten. You refused to use the stairs as it was a sure fire way to doom yourself. For now, you must get as far away as possible before you could be stealthy.  

As silent as you could with high heels, you hustled through the sloped exit. Half of you prayed for a car to come whipping towards you. Maybe whoever operated the vehicle would save you, but it wasn’t likely. Everyone here carried some sort of cross. 

Night poured in from the gaping walls of the garage. The only lights to guide you were the blaring, fluorescent lamps. 

No one was going to help you. Suspense built in your chest, tightening around your throat as you ran further down the levels. 

The paths were long and confusing. Trying your best to follow the signs to lead to the next lot, you were quickly overwhelmed. By now, thirty seconds have long since passed and you were only about two levels down from before. You slowed your pace to a jog, clinging to the wall not to expose yourself too much. 

A pattern of lazy footfalls was not too far behind. He was having fun with it, tormenting you. 

Crouching behind the cars that lined lot eight, you used it as coverage. It wasn’t much, but it was something. 

His husky humming soon filled the barren concrete. 

“*Run, rabbit, run, rabbit, run, run, run*.” 

Sweat collected at your hairline, dropping down the side of your face. Peering over the side of a navy blue car, you spied Baji strolling down the middle of the aisle, leisure in his stride. His confidence fueled your need to win whatever game he forced you into. 

Doing away with your heels, you shift your weight, taking off one shoe— keeping your gaze on the hunter. Repeating the motion on your other foot. 

Your nostrils flared as you let out a relieved sigh that no noise was made. Gone was the obstacle that would surely give away your position, the inevitable clicking surely would’ve been your demise. Eyes wondering to one heel, you formed a plan. 

Baji was in the way. There was a door that led to the stairway, but you refused to go that way. You rather be exposed than confined. Shuffling to the other end of the car, you peer over the other end to see Baji's back. Taking one shoe you threw it over the pathway for the cars. A quick smile graces your lips at the good throw. With your minimal luck he will think you are at the other side of the lot. Instantly his head snapped towards the noise, a furrow in his thick brows. He soon followed.

His movement didn't lose any of its mellow stagger. Baji walked down two lanes of cars to spot the shoe you threw. By the time he made it to the heel, you crawled further down the line.

Throat bubbling, a guttural laugh bellowed among the concrete. 

"Sneaky, sneaky girl." His tone mocked you as his head was leaned back with shut lids. He basked in how you were playing this game with him.

Ignoring how he was obviously getting aroused at this, you kept moving. Staying still certainly meant death. You had no clue his motive and you didn't want to find out.

Clutching the other shoe, you made a break for it. You couldn't wait in that port forever, it was still six stories up. There was no other way for you to escape and who knows how long it would take for him to move from the exit.

You bolted down the decline down to the next level. At this point you were descending down Dante's inferno rather than to your freedom. Every step was damning. Without the clicking heels, the sound was softened to just the padding of your feet. But every mouse-like noise echoed in this chamber.

Of course Baji heard and caught sight of your movement, giving chase. This was the most fun part, at least to him. His laugh continued as he darted to your form. Your heart stuttered in your chest at the sound of his heeled boots. Whipping around you spotted how he was mere feet away from you.

Your face contorted, 

“Fuck."

Labored and aching inhales shattered your body. His hand grazed your back, almost catching your shirt. A scream peaked as you pumped your arms to go faster. You can only run in a straight line for so long before he eventually dug his claws in.

Swerving to the right, you kept the sloping exit in your line of sight. Baji had begged to differ. He jumped over the hood of a car to place himself in front of you. Eyes blown out in fear, you stumbled backwards. Pivoting to turn around, your legs carried you back into the lines of parked cars. It was near impossible to lose him now as he had his sights on you.

The further you ran, the more he led you away from your initial destination. The bastard was steering you to the stairwell. Swearing under your breath, there was no else for you to go. You slammed your body into the metal door. The blaring red of the exit sign mimicking the gates of hell.

Racing down the stairs, you were careful not to slip from your thin pantyhose. How inconvenient. The stairs were made from the same concrete but more polished. The ground was hard underneath your feet. At this point everything ached. Time slipped of how long you have been running but it felt like a millennia. Pain will always make seconds bleed into centuries.

A bang bellows within the thin corridor, glancing up you see Baji standing above you. He waved from the banister you were just at. You were at least three flights away from him. Flipping him off, you kept going.

He cackled at the gesture, your brattiness just made this all the more fun. Men like him never did like prey that rolled over on their back. It was all about the chase, the push and pull.

Even mice eventually bite back against the sly cat.

His fangs glisten against the flickering, fluorescent lights. The exit sign casted a rosy glow behind him. The devil was an angel.

Your feet and hands sweat in morbid apprehension. Licking the salt from the top of your lip, you chant in your head to not trip. As scary as the situation was, the embarrassment would trump it. At this point you couldn't be too far from the floor level. So lost in how your footsteps echo, you forgot how silent Baji was.

*Bam!*

Baji lands right in front of you. The crazy bastard jumped from at least six flights of stairs. You gasped and choked, flabbergasted at him. 

"What the fuck!" you screeched. Your eyes bounced to where you could escape. 

"Come on, rabbit, I think we have played long enough," despite his words, his dilated pupils say otherwise. He was enjoying this. 

Turning around you got back up the stairs to get to the door labeled "2."

The gangster is quick to make haste to catch you. He gripped the back of your shirt again. The neckline cuts into your throat; an ugly gag forced from your throat. Pissed, you whipped around—heel still in hand—you smacked him square in the face with the toe end. Your aim was better than you predicted, hitting him square in the nose. 

"Fuck!" he growled, letting you go. 

Baji cradled his bleeding nose. Copper flowed into his mouth. The taste was foul and bitter, bitter as the fact you actually hit him. This game quickly stopped being fun and he was heated. The audacity. Who the fuck do you think you are?

While his eyes watered, you crawl up the stairs two at a time. The heel clutched in your hands, specks of blood dropped onto the concrete. The thirsty material drank all it could. The crevices now held pieces of the monster behind you. 

You pulled the metal door open and kept your pace. Baji wouldn't be held down for long and you didn't want to find out how irate he was. Tears of confusion prickled your eyes. How much more wrong could this evening become? 

By now, you would have been half way home, Mikey in the car with you. It would be silent and tense, but not awkward. As you two grew older, you accepted the fact Mikey hungered for darker things. You would never get your best friend back. This made apparent as he willingly served you to the beast hot on your tail. Pretty, silver platter and all.

All men are the same, you seethed

Metal hit concrete with a shattering boom. By now you were a floor away from the ground level. Gulping, you don't let the reverberating crack deter you. You knew you wouldn't hold him off for long. A naive part of you hoped when he realized you wouldn't go down without a fight, he would grow bored and leave you alone. Aforementioned, what an extremely naive thought. 

Natural moonlight started to pour in from the entrance not too far from you. Likened to the gates of heaven, the soft light streamed into the dreary building. The change in lighting caused your eyes to squint. Almost laughing in repose, you spied a toll booth a few feet in front of you. 

Wasting no time, you jogged over to the toll. Smiling, you opened your mouth to ask the security guard who was frequently here when you were present to call a car for you, only to see it was empty. 

Dread washing over you, ice dropping heavy into your tummy. Racing into the booth, you notice the cameras left unattended. Hung on the display screen front and center was a daisy yellow sticky note. 

"There's a ten second delay :)." 

Moving your eyes from the note, there on the camera was the tail end of you coming inside said booth. Baji not too far behind.

By the time you register just what you saw, you were slammed into the window.

Attempting to twist your body to hit him again with the heel in your hand, only to be apprehended by his larger hand. clutching your puny wrist, he twists it behind your back. You yelped as you dropped your only weapon. 

"Get the fuck off me!" you bit out. 

In response he crowded you further against the window, his body warm against yours. as you squirm, he dug his crotch into your backside. You still at the feeling of his bulge. Of course the fucker was getting off at this. 

Baji leaned down, his breath hot on your ear.

"Why don't you be a good bunny for me and keep still for me." His words brought a whimper from your chest. You squirmed in discomfort. this can't be happening.

Gently he used his free hand to pull the hair near your neck. Dragging his cold nose down the column, he laid a soft kiss on the supple skin. 

"You don't understand how long I have waited for this.”

He nipped you in retaliation. you flinched at the sensation. completely ignoring your refusal, Baji kept mouthing at your neck. Sucking and tugging at the flesh that left it raw and bruised. 

Pain shot up your spine as he dug his fangs in, breaking the layer until you bled. You amped up your wrestling to get away from him but he bit down harder likened to a wolf in heat.

Whining, you try to ignore how arousal seeped into your panties. Hating how weak he was making you, you lift your free elbow right into his ribs. He let out a grunt, loosening his grip on you.

You made it about three inches before he wrapped a hand around your hair and pulled you back towards him. You winced at the strain on the follicles. He surely ripped some hair out. 

"Fucker!"

Using your hair as a leash, he steered you to the desk that faced the inside of the lot. The metal was ice against your thin dress shirt. his rough hand dragged up your spine to make sure you were stuck to the surface. He kicked your legs to spread them, your instinctively arched to accommodate the new position. 

Sadly for you and fortunately for him, it left you more vulnerable. His hand in your hair drifted to the back of your neck, gripping it as one would to a misbehaving kitten.

"Will you knock it off? I'm getting real sick of your attitude."

"My attitude?" you twisted your head as best as you can to glare at him, "You were the one that chased me for who knows how long! For what, because you can't get anyone willingly?"

You seethed the remark hoping to get under his skin but he only grinned. Blood on his teeth.

"You aren't just anyone. I will take you, willingly or not. You're mine and have been since the day I saw you."

You huffed at his audacity. "I will fight you till you die."

"Then let’s hope I die a slow death then."

Done with the chit chat, his hand crept down to your pencil skirt. Fiddling with the hem by your thigh, the fabric had ridden up in your kerfuffle.

You clenched your eyes as the warmth of his palm seeped into your pantyhose. The ebony, stiff fabric followed—caught on his wrist. His thumb rubbed the line where your thigh and butt meet. You wiggled at the sweet spot being fondled. 

He clicked his tongue to see both your pantyhose and pink panties in the way of what he desired most. A quaint eyebrow raised at the sigh of a dark spot forming.

He giggled, 

"Wow you really are a slut. My slutty bunny."

"Shut the fuck up," you pouted, hating the humiliation.

He let the attitude slide- too excited to dig in. Using both hands, he gripped the pantyhole and pulled. Your panties quickly met the same fate. The ripping of fabric bellowed in the small compartment. 

Cool air met your exposed pussy. You were completely vulnerable now and you despised it. How dare he do this to you. Despite the anger, you didn't have much fight left in you. What else could you do?

"There you go," Baji sighed out, coaxing to fall further into him.

Knowing you won't bite his head off, he dragged his fingers up the line of your pussy. He traced the circle of your asshole, laughing at how you flinched away.

"Please don't!" you don't think you could take it if he dared.

"I'm only teasing."

He continued his exploration, figuring out the innerworks of your pliant body. He dipped down to brush against your clit, barely giving any stimulation. Going back up to your hole, he barely breaches in before pulling out and repeating the same motion.

You know what he was doing and refused to beg. If he wanted you, he would have to take you with your lips clenched closed.

Getting sick of your silence, he popped two of fingers in without warning. You scream at the unexpected stretch. Your insides burned, it had been awhile since you had been fucked. Baji’s fingers were longer and thicker than yours by a long shot, hitting places you never could. 

"Now the brat talks," he breathed into you. 

He put his weight on your back, chest firm against the strained muscle. 

He curled his fingers forward in a way that made your thighs shake. Baji was barely doing anything and you felt weak.

Not showing any mercy, he fucked his fingers into you. he wiggled the appendages around until he found the spot that gifted him a gentle, muffled moan. 

Like a shark out for blood, he abused the spongy area. Not leaving you any room to process what was happening to your body, your mouth parted. Little moans polluted the booth.

The motion wasn't enough to make you cum but damn well near it. Fog started to cloud the glass from your moans. Reluctantly you were giving into the pleasure and all you wanted was your release. Damn it all if it was from the man above you forcing you to take what he gives, the end was approaching. 

A meek, "please," broke the air.

Baji stopped his motions, not sure he heard you correctly. 

"Want to repeat that for me, bunny?" his tone smug.

You attempt to turn away from his face that was crowding yours. He gripped your hair again, stopping you from moving. 

Swallowing your pride, you speak a little louder. "Please."

"Done refusing me?"

whatever docility was in you was snuffed out. you scowled, "go die."

"Not before i fuck you," he laughed.

You sneered at the cheesy line, going back to trying to buck him off.

The playfulness left him. He could deal with a smart mouth but he hated how your tried your best to escape his embrace. He will make you love him one way or another. 

Patience was a virtue after all, one baji knew well enough.

His cock was straining in his slacks. He was sure the tip was an angry red, begging to be deep within your walls. He shivered at the thought of breaching your cervix with the head. 

Done fantasizing, he pulled his fingers from your hole. You whined at the sudden emptiness. He shushed you but not before plucking his fingers into his mouth. He groaned at the taste of you. The sound was lewd and more slick gushed out from you. He couldn't wait to taste from the source, but that was for another time. 

He unzipped his pants and shimmied down the offending fabric along with his boxers.

His cock slapped against his stomach then to your bum. Precum smeared against your rolled up skirt. Wasting no time, he wrapped a hand around the base and guided the head to your cunny. Your hole still empty, winked at him, begging to be refilled.

Baji tapped said hole a few times before bullying his way in. His tip popped into your hole. You both moaned at how he filled you. Already lost in pleasure, baji drove his cock further into you. He stopped half way, pulling out and then slamming to the hilt.

You screamed for a second, scrambling to clutch onto something. Paper and utensils clattered onto the floor. Your hand tried to find purchase on the metal table.

Seeing your struggle, baji grabbed both your hands. He pinned you down, clutching onto your wrists. The body was swarming you. All you could breathe in was him. The weight of him crushed your lungs as his smell suffocated whatever amount of oxygen was left.

Your fists balled as he kept his pace. It was steady and hard. He wasn't jackhammering into you, but he sure was fucking you with purpose. 

His cock was heavy within your walls, catching onto all the right places. Already denied an impending orgasm, your peak was creeping up faster than you would like. Of course he would be a good fuck.

"Hmm I knew you would feel like heaven." His voice was heavy and stuttered. 

Leaning back down, he kissed the same place he bit. "All mine."

Lost in the rhythm of him positioning into you, you barely notice the sound of a car rolling its way down to the very open and public booth.

Reality crashed around you. You started to struggle again remembering where you were. Completely exposed to the public, you were scared of the repercussions of being caught. 

Baji snickered as he saw you also hear the car approach. Even with you wriggling, you grew tighter at the fear.

"Poor bunny, you like being fucked for everyone to see?"

You rapidly shook your head no, "baji please let me go."

"Why would I do that when you are clenching down on me like you're scared I'm gonna leave."

"Keisuke please!" you cried out his first name. Hoping, praying the familiarity would bring him to his senses. It did not. The car had no intention of slowing down. You feared who would be inside. Weighing if it would be better or worse if it was a gang member.

The closer it gets the more you recognize Mikey's sleek Cadillac. Tears burst from your eyes knowing the compromising position he was going to see you in. Baji licked up the tears, growing harder at how pretty you look when you cry. It made your eyelashes darker and clump together in such a delicate way. He wanted to break you until all you had was him. 

Baji stopped fucking into you, only grinding as Mikey rolled down his window. 

The gang leader glanced down at your sniveling form. His face remained cement but his eyes swirled in cruel amusement. 

"I thought I said don't break her."

"I barely call this broken," he emphasized his point with a sharp thrust. You gasped.

"Open the gate for me."

Baji leaned to the right to hit the button to open the gate to let him go home. Fuck him, you should be in car with him, not here. Anger seized you along with crushing betrayal. He did not care. You questioned if he ever did if he could sell you off so easily. You sunk at the broken promise that he wouldn't let anyone hurt you. Teen you never realized he was included in the matter. 

Baji saluted him goodbye and Mikey rolled his window back up. You slumped against the desk, drained. 

"Don't worry too much, bunny, I will take good care of you."

So tired from today, you stopped fighting as he started to get rougher with his thrusts. His climax was approaching and he wanted you to fall with him. Releasing one of your wrists, he reached around to your front to play with your neglected clit.

He found it with ease, your dazed brain thankful for it. You wanted—needed this to come to a close. He swirled the nub with firm softness, contrasting his frantic thrusts. 

"Cum for me, y/n, be a good girl for me," his voice almost pitched at the borderline plea. 

Broken down, he abused your g-spot a few more times before white took over your vision. 

Gasping high pitched whimpers, your clenching walls triggered his climax as well. Thick and hot cum flooded your cunny. You whined at being filled to the brim. Baji shivered at how wet you were with his cum deep in your cunt. He almost got hard again at the thought of fucking you until you couldn't take anymore of his cum. 

He pulled out and watched as the white load drooled out of your swollen cunny. He was attempted to fuck it back into you with his finger, but you had enough for tonight.

You tried to catch your breath at the intensity, coming down from the constant adrenaline rush. Baji pulled you up from where you were slumped against the desk. He wrapped an arm around your waist and threw you over his shoulder. At this point you had nothing left in you. He carried you to his car. Popping the trunk of his just as fancy car, he placed you in. 

"Can't let anyone know I have you, bunny," Baji answered without you asking why. "Don't worry, nothing will hurt you now."

What bullshit.

[bp-zb1fics]

hi! can i have a platonic request for yujin with a male reader?

yujin joins a new school and is quiet and shy but male reader is the upbeat and excited (kinda like junhyeon) class president who wants to befriend him but yujin makes him work hard for his friendship? (idk this is one of those random late night thoughts😅)

tysm!

Shy, shy, shy!

New student han yujin & class president male reader

genre: highschool au on crack, friendship, comedy

tw/tags: color-coded notes, yujin is a shy bean, a lil insecurity at the start, ft kum junhyeon, kim gyuvin & park gunwook for comedic purposes, age of trio is messed with a little to fit the narrative

wc: 1684

summary: you just want to be friends with the new student but it doesn’t seem like he wants to be friends with you.

a/n my first request~ thank you so much anon! I’m not sure if this is what you had in mind and i feel like it’s a little messy but i hope you like it! I tried to write it to be consistent with the korean highschool experience and ended up throwing the dog mafia trio in there for extra laughs — if you enjoyed this, I’ve got a ricky fic set in the same au and part two on the way~

Check my pinned for more fics~

“This is Han Yujin-ssi. He’s just transferred here and will be in your class for the rest of the year. Please take good care of him.”

You smile at the other boy while the teacher introduces you as the class president, returning his bow enthusiastically. His posture seems quite tense as he fidgets with the hem of his uniform jacket. Once the teacher leaves, you practically launch yourself into loosening him up.

“So this is your desk, I’m afraid we’ll be stuck together for the rest of the school year so I hope you won’t get bored of me!”

“Ah…”

“Definitely just ask when you need anything, especially if you need help catching up with any of the lessons, I’ll be happy to lend you my notes. These are my best classes,”

You gesture wildly to your notebooks. Yujin feels a little overwhelmed staring at the many brightly coloured post-it markers peeking between pages, all labelled in your handwriting. Everything on your desk seemed to function in some state of meticulously organised chaos.

“But if you need tutoring for anything else, I’ll be happy to ask one of my sunbaes.”

“Oh, thank you.”

You continue talking and Yujin just stands there. It’s a lot. You’re a lot. Not necessarily in a bad way, it’s just that you look so sure of yourself in a way that Yujin still doesn’t know how to. He can feel his other classmates staring at both of you. He watches you turn towards their direction and they avert their eyes, going back to chatting among themselves. His cheeks begin to flush with embarrassment and he furiously tamps it down.

“Do you have any questions? Anything I can help with, Yujin-ssi?”

How can you look so genuinely earnest? It must be such a hassle for you to look after him when you’re already in charge of the whole class.

“Ah no, it’s alright, thank you.”

Still, your bright demeanour doesn’t dampen, cheerfully calling the class to attention as the teacher walks in.

__________________________________________

“Ah seriously hyung, I’m pretty sure he finds me annoying.”

“You are annoying though, you’re annoying me right now.”

“Ah hyuuuuung.”

You’re about to sulk when rather large hands plant themselves on either side of your face and begin squishing your cheeks.

“Aigoo, aigoo, no need to pout, hyung is just teasing you.”

You met Kim Gyuvin after meeting Park Gunwook at a student officer meeting. Along with Kum Junhyeon, the trio of seniors were practically inseparable. And like it or not, they’ve unofficially adopted you. 

Unofficial because your own mother had laughed when Kum Junhyeon showed up to your house with actual, legal adoption papers and then proceeded to pull up a whole powerpoint presentation to convince her to sign. While you expected Gyuvin to go along with this madness, you weren’t prepared to witness the horror of watching your student officer sunbaenim sporting a full wig and speaking in a high-pitched tone that would forever be burned into your brain. You couldn’t even look Gunwook in the eye at the next meeting.

Chaotic energy aside, your three hyungs were actually helpful whenever you did have a problem. Gyuvin pats your cheeks indulgently.

“He’s probably just shy. As long as you don’t scare the shit out of him like this one did when I first transferred over here, you’ll be best bros in no time.”

“Yaaa” Gunwook protests, “I wasn’t scary.”

“You looked like you could bench press my entire body weight and you stared at me for an unsettling amount of time when seongsaengnim introduced us on my first day.”

Gyuvin retorted, now squeezing your shoulders like they were stress balls.

“That’s because I couldn’t believe that someone the same age as me could look so damn attractive. It’s unfair.”

You braced yourself for the incoming dramatics.

“Ah bro”

“Bro”

“I didn’t know you found me that hot, bro.”

“You really were something, bro.”

Gyuvin lets go of your shoulders.

“Wait excuse me, were??”

“Gyuvin-ah, you and Junhyeon literally have the same personality, I love you both, really, but it’s-”

“It’s what, huh? What is it? Say it.”

You’re about to pull up some emergency aegyo to keep Gyuvin from fighting Gunwook. Luckily, Junhyeon has impeccable timing, almost non-existent volume control and a flair for theatrics.

“YOU’RE SPENDING TIME WITH THE BABY WITHOUT ME??? EXCUSE ME, DOES OUR AGREEMENT OF JOINT CUSTODY MEAN NOTHING TO YOU??? HOW DARE-”

Yep, time to do a reverse “Junhyeonie is 5” before someone loses their custody rights.

__________________________________________

“Oh Yujin-ssi, how are you? Is any of the material confusing? We can go over it at evening study if you like”

The other boy turns to you so fast that you’re afraid his neck might snap.

“Ah, I’m- everything is alright.”

It’s becoming a pattern. You try your very best to get Yujin to feel comfortable and Yujin tensing up and giving rather brief responses.

You invite him to sit with you at lunch and he declines, disappearing from the hall.

You offer him a snack during evening study and he says he’s still full from lunch.

You ask if he wants you to get him a drink from the vending machine and he waves you off.

And he’s not even being rude about it, every response is extremely polite, frustratingly so. And you feel lost because it’s so clear that he feels the need to walk on eggshells around practically everything and you don’t know why.

Despite being class president, you don’t have much in terms of close friends. You’re friendly with most of your peers but becoming an officer means that you don’t have much free time and thus, the friends that you once had would end up hanging out without you. You knew, like Gunwook, that the title could make you come off as intimidating. And you genuinely wished that you could have what your hyungs did, an inseparable bond with all the chaos.

__________________________________________

It’s three weeks in when Yujin doesn’t show up for class. The day after, you find out from the teacher that he’s been sick over the weekend and his parents are keeping him home for a few extra days to recover. By the third day that the chair beside you remains empty, you use your class president privileges to find out his address and decide to pull a Junhyeon, armed with the week’s class notes instead of adoption papers and unfortunately no powerpoint. Or a wig.

You knock on the door and wait. A few minutes tick by and no one answers. After double checking that you’re at the correct address, you knock again. As time drags out, you start to fiddle with your uniform jacket, wondering if this was a good idea. The door opens and you’re face to face with a woman who can only be Yujin’s mother.

You pull down your mask and bow, introducing yourself and holding out the notes that are meant for Yujin. Her face brightens.

“You must be his class president, you’re the only person at school that he talks about. Come in, I’ll have his brother check if he’s napping or not. He’ll be glad to see you after staying home for so long.”

You try to decline, not wanting to put Yujin on the spot but she insists, ushering you in.

“I’ve just been so worried for him after he had to transfer. He always gets so quiet with new people and I’m so glad when I heard about you, really. Thank you for looking out for him.”

She says as you toe off your shoes, trying your best to smile and nod while you’re internally reeling from all the information she’s unloaded.

“Ah, Yujinie, your friend is here. He’s been nice enough to drop off the notes you’ve missed.”

Yujin pauses when he sees you sitting on the couch. He’s a little pale but otherwise looks fine for someone who’s been sick for almost a week. His mother thanks you again before bustling into the other room. Yujin takes a seat on the opposite side of the couch.

“I brought the homework.”

“...”

“And all the notes for the lessons this week.”

“...”

“I’ve colour-coded them by class so you know which ones which.”

“...”

The silence drags itself out long enough for you to consider making an excuse and seeing yourself out. But before you can, Yujin finally speaks.

“Why are you still being so nice to me?”

“Uh- um- sorry, excuse me?”

For once, he isn’t the one giving a brief response but you’ve been caught off guard. 

“I know you need to do the whole class president thing but seriously, you don’t need to go out of your way to offer me snacks or buy drinks or even come all the way here to drop all of this off. Seriously, don’t you think it’s a hassle? Why do you have to be this nice?”

This is literally the most you’ve heard Yujin say since meeting him. It’s groundbreaking. Incredible. Miraculous. Damn, you think your brain broke a little.

“I guess…I’m just being nice?...You know, for the sake of being nice?”

More like a lot.

“I mean you seem like a cool person. Like you aren’t bothered by how I have to like use a different coloured pen for everything or when my sticky note markers end up on your desk or like��yeah.”

You internally cringe at the word vomit that you let loose. Really, you didn’t rehearse your class president candidate speech a million times to sink to this level of ramble.

Yujin laughs. Like actually, genuinely, laughs.

“You’re actually kinda strange, you know. But yeah…”

He grins at you.

“You seem like a cool person too.”

__________________________________________

“HELLOOO MY BABY- OHMYGOD!!!”

Yujin looks positively terrified as Junhyeon flaps his arms wildly at him.

“THERE’S ANOTHER BABY!”

Gunwook looks vaguely amused, giving you a thumbs up before trying to keep Junhyeon from fully launching himself at both of you. Gyuvin takes one look at Yujin, turns around and walks out the door, mumbling something that sounded like “adoption papers.”

It’s going to be an interesting year.

[thecameronchronicles]

A Change of Hearts

TW: Smut. Language. 

SUMMARY: Your secret relationship with Rafe is at risk of exposure when your friends become a bit too curious of your absence…

WORD COUNT: 3300

*Requested*

A Change of Hearts

BZZ. 

Your heart skipped a beat at the sight of the single letter illuminating across your phone under a stealthily labeled ‘R’ to keep any nosy gazes from learning the truth of your relationship. A relationship that consisted of longing glances from across a crowded room, covert dates held under the stars, and the thrill of discovery between each necessary kiss and passionate embrace. 

The reason for such secrecy was because for as long as you could remember, the social construct of “kooks” and “pogues” raged a war between the north and south sides of the collective Outer Banks. A civil war of sorts between those holding country club memberships and those working in said establishments to make ends meet, was without end. 

Although juvenile, no function was spared the tension that came with such a rivalry. Barbeques, birthday parties, charity fundraisers-even simple tasks such as walking on the same side of the street left the citizens of the OBX to feel as if they were in the crux of the great divide of class, fortune, and the lesser thans. And yet, among the bureaucracy of it all, there existed the exception of you and Rafe. 

This very connection, unexpected yet treasured by you both, would be questioned by those closest to you however as the indifference they held those opposite from their clique couldn’t look beyond their designer sunglasses or cheap beer cans to understand what had been this relationship between pogue princess and kook prince. This was why it remained a secret…

BZZ.

“I need to see you. It’s important. Parking lot. Ten minutes.” You bit nervously at the edges of your nails for the time to pass until you made an excuse to leave your assigned seat in home economics and scurry to the agreed upon location. Immediately, your mind began to conjure a thousand reasons as to why he would come to school and risk the scrutiny of any form of interaction with you. 

You feared it had to do with his father as you’d been his salvation in the form of your grace whenever he’d shared such domestic issues with you. If not for the fact that JJ had been in the same class as you, currently asleep with his feet crossed on the counter in the seat beside you, you’d worried that another scuffle stained your boyfriend’s pristine knuckles as it had not even a week prior when a misunderstanding led to the need to defend between toxic masculinity and social expectations. 

But as you made your way to the rear of Kildare High, you were suddenly apprehended by a set of familiar fingers now pinning you into a small alcove absent from any curious gazes. 

“Rafe, what is it? Are you okay?” The sense of worry made his expression soften that much more when he saw you. But he would answer you in the form of a hand slipping to your cheek and lips pressed firmly yet still softly to your parted mouth. 

“I am now…” He explained with a breath of relief once setting his forehead to yours in order to savor the moment. The way your body always felt within his touch held the excitement and rush of a first time, only to be rivaled by the comfort of your reciprocation feeling synonymous to ‘home’. 

“God, I’ve missed you…” He spoke behind an exhale of relief, the familiar cadence of his voice sending chills down your spine as you laughed at his words. 

“I saw you last night…”

“And it still isn’t enough…” He pulled himself back against you, a soft kiss silencing your grin for only a second, before it returned as he returned to the tower his body made over you, hands set at your hips, as he seemed to breathe you in. 

“Are you addicted, Mister Cameron?” His brows furrowed to your choice of label before he chuckled. 

“Hopelessly…” You couldn’t fight the wave of happiness that came from these soft moments between you two as he pressed his lips to yours once again. Only now, the kisses were slow and thorough, the tip of his tongue pulling your lips into a part to allow him to instigate a French kiss. Your brows shot in surprise before he pinned you to the cold brick at your back, retreating for only a moment to comment. 

“And I hope I fucking overdose…” You grinned before feeling him take you against him once again; fingers wrapped dominantly within your hair as his second hand wrapped around your back, hip-to-hip, so you were able to feel the extent of his body. The tensing of his muscles, the rigidity of his arousal, and the breathing made erratic by these passionate kisses brought you both to forget the publicity of your circumstances. 

“You drive me crazy, baby…” He explained, your neck warmed by the presence of his lips, tongue teasing the goosebumps left on your skin by his contact, as his leading hand made its way to the button of your jeans. 

“Rafe…” You warned, your tone betraying the attempt to reprimand him as your body had already prepared for his touch; eyes coming closed and lips left in a part to accommodate the quick breathing expected from his motions. 

“I have to touch you-I NEED to touch you…” Without a rejection, his fingers moved rather effortlessly beyond the seam of your jeans and made contact with your clit, rubbing slow circles to draw those decadent moans he favored to even the most dirty of words. 

“MMM…Are you always this wet at school baby?”

“Only for you.” He smirked, taking hold of your jaw to pull you into an authoritative kiss as the sound of laughter just over his shoulder brought your palm to his chest. But this pause orchestrated at your fingertips only led him harder against you, breath against your ear. 

“I’m not stopping until you cum for me…”

“Someone could see us-” You rivaled, eyes heavy and a deep exhale victorious over your quickly graying morality. 

“Let them…I need to see you cum…I need to make you feel good…And I’m not stopping until you do…” To this, he lowered his middle finger into you, the slow penetration only teasing the vessel needed to fulfill you entirely. Aware of this, he projected a second finger, curving them as your fingers ate into the fabric of his shirt. 

“Oh God…”

“That’s it baby…” Your hips began to motion against him, his thumb rising to your clit as he quickened all motions as you struggled to remain quiet against the vulgar moans pulling for release behind your clenched teeth. 

“You’re so fucking beautiful…” He breathed into you, retreating just far enough to observe the perfect contortions made from the features he adored. The way your eyes screwed close in desperation but your lips kept apart, omitting the most beautiful of sounds, erected a grin from his own mouth as he continued to endorse you by both touch and those sultry little words. 

“And so fucking mine.” You nodded. 

“Show me baby, show me you’re mine and cum for me…come on pretty girl…let me make you come-'' Suddenly a familiar set of voices drove Rafe’s hand over your mouth. The unmistakable voice of Sarah, his sister and one of your closest friends, and that of her own pogue boyfriend, John B, were joined by their mutual allies, Kiara and JJ. 

“Don’t you think it’s kind of weird though? Whenever she’s gone, so is Rafe…”

“What? You think they’re like off killing each other or something?” John B inquired as Rafe reminded you to remain silent as he set a gentle ‘shh’ against your temple. Meanwhile, your fingers pulled his wrist into a wrap as he drove you to the edge of your orgasm with your friends none the wiser, only a few meters away. 

“I just think it’s weird…” Sarah spoke finally as JJ and Kie were bickering over some recent assignment as Pope caught up to the group, berating them for having ditched class in search of you.

“You’re just paranoid…Besides, she’s way smarter than going for a guy like him…” JJ added, your stomach twisting in unison to the release offered by his fingertips. 

“Little do they know how I’m making you cum all over my fingers.” Your grip wrapped harshly around his wrist. 

“Cum on baby girl, I know you need to…” Eyes locked to yours, he watched you come undone beneath him, your slick now staining his hand as your friends disappeared out of view. 

“Rafe…”

“Before you try to tell me how it was a wrong…I want you to deny how good it felt…How good it always feels…And if you lie to me…I have other ways to remind you…” You threatened his cock against you as you shifted beneath him, unable to disagree. 

“Come on…” He led you away from your quiet corner, interlacing your fingers with his own. 

“I have class-”

“Not anymore…I’m stealing you for the rest of the day-”

“Rafe-”

He spoke your name in warning just as you had to him, “So help me, I will take you over my shoulder kicking and screaming if I have to…And you know it won’t hurt me one little bit if I have to put you in your place while doing it…” His voice lowered, hinting to his twisted carnal fantasies you secretly loved making a reality for him. 

“Fine, but where are we going?” You asked, collecting the backpack disregarded the second his lips first pressed against yours. You would be halfway to his truck before he’d answer you as his feet made quick work towards your mutual destination. 

“I’m gonna take you to lunch…” He pulled open the passenger side of the car, taking hold of your hips in your attempt to hike yourself into the seat. 

“And then I’m gonna make you cum again..this time, to where I can hear you scream my name-” You turned back to rival him before a swift swat to your ass made you jump with a gasp. 

By the time you'd consumed the entirety of your lunch, you'd been undressed and fucked from across the table with his gaze alone. The small seductions made by moaning when consuming a bite or sucking sauce off of your fingers while keeping his eyes to you had left him desperate by the time the check finally made its way to you. Slipping a crisp one hundred dollar bill within the wallet left by the server for discretion, you were then forced the vinyl chair and taken quickly to his truck. 

Without a word, he began to pass recklessly over the double yellow, ignoring the middle fingers and car horns before coming to the front of Tannyhill in the ambition of taking you inside. However, the sight of Sarah making her way to the French doors at the very moment you pulled up, sent Rafe into a curse. 

"The chateau…" You offered an amendment to this trial as he hesitated for a moment before considering your words. 

"The pogues will be there-"

"They are all going surfing, that's why they bailed. I forgot, they asked me to skip with them…they won't be there, we'll have the place to ourselves-'' Before you were even allowed to finish your sentence, he pulled the car in reverse and crossed the median between Figure 8 and The Cut. But the drive had been far too lengthy for your throbbing clit to be without attention. For this, you shifted in your seat, his hand on your thigh only worsening the heat in need of release. 

"Rafe…" You whined as his eyes found you shifting against his hand. 

"Almost there baby…"

"I need you so badly…" You teased, hand running the length of his thigh as the vision of his cock was merciless against the tight fabric of his pants. 

"I know, sweetheart…I promise I'll take care of you-"

"I can't wait…" You whimpered, pulling his hand to your lips to take two fingers behind a seductive suck, eyes finding his before his focus returned to the road, before leading them against you in naked ambition. 

"Oh God, Rafe!" His foot was flush with the floor of his truck as he would multitask with both driving and fingering you as you whimpered his name until the car came to a stop. 

Before the headlights could die into their expected fade, you were taken into the chateau, lifted around him, and set against the wall of the hallway. The sight of negligent residents having left half consumed beer cans and discarded clothing did nothing to deter his steps as he pressed you into the wall with conviction. 

"You make me crazy, baby-makin' me break the law just to fuck you…" 

You nodded. "Then fuck me, Rafe…I need you…" He growled, lips captivated by his while he kissed you into the wall. 

"Which room?" He asked while looking at the doors on either side of him. You pointed to the one closest before feeling your body used to open and close it until he carried you to the bed, keeping you wrapped around him in a straddle. 

"I'm gonna make you cum so hard, baby-"

"Yes!" You grunted in approval, making small motions of your hips over his clothed cock, endorsing him into further need. His hand within your hair pulled your neck to his access as he lines your skin with deep kisses until coming to your ear. 

"That's right baby….keep moaning like that and see where that gets you…" He teased as you pivoted into him before his grip stilled you and lifted you into a spin until you were on your back. 

"You need me to take care of you?" He asked, fingers already making work of your jeans as you nodded, but paused to lift towards him. Your fingers now focused on his pants, pulling them apart to reveal himself to you. 

"But you first…" Before he could object, he was extended to the reflex of your throat. The tight recess gluttonous for him, you took him even further, driving tears from your eyes, as he'd made a makeshift ponytail from your hair. 

"Good fucking girl! Takin’ all of me like that-" You nodded, hand wrapped the base of his cock. 

"Rub that clit for me sweetheart…just how I would…" You obliged, double tasking to perfection as his eyes followed every motion of either of your hands. 

"That's it…that's it…" He purred, the moans from your throat having vibrated him to the edge of his release as he forced you to face him. One hand still harboring your locks and another to your jaw, he took you against his mouth. 

"Come ride me baby, I need to feel that tight little pussy squeezing me…" You nodded in agreement, positioned with the help of his eager fingers, before the familiar fulfillment of his shaft that offered a momentary reprieve from your pulsations. 

"Did I say to stop touching yourself?"

"I want you to!" You groaned as he smirked. 

"I have to focus, baby…Need you to do this for me…" He grunted while paying his attention to your breasts. Kneading one at a time into a roll between his pinch, his teeth would then capture your hard nipples before sucking them hard to pull pain and pleasure from you in equal measure. Everything began to work in unison to the climb to your release. The fullness of his cock merciless to and from your dripping core, your fingers quick and short circles drawn to your clit, his fingers and mouth in devotion to your sensitive nipples, had you begging between moans and groans. 

"I'm-Rafe!"

"Fuck-" He groaned into your shoulder. "You're gonna make me cum baby-tight little pussy like a vice on me…so fucking good for me…"

"Yes! RAFE! OH GOD! OH FUCK!"

Speaking each other's name in unison, evidential lines drawn into skin from desperation, and the heaving of final breaths submitting you both to the aftershock of powerful orgasms, you remained in each other's arms for a moment before he separated you in a lonely dismount. 

"You're gonna be the death of me…" He spoke in a rather winded manner, all while wearing that arrogant grin. Your eyes adorned the messy hair and sporadic rise of his chest as you dressed in your shirt and reached for the cover of your panties. 

"Those are mine…" He swept them from the floor before you could apprehend them.

"Rafe!"

"I need something for tonight…"

"You're insatiable-"

"Can you blame me?" He teased as you rolled your eyes, continued your attempts to control your appearance, before emerging from the bedroom to find the entire collection of pogues now silent when seeing you emerge. 

"What the fuck?!" JJ was the first to react, the sight of you two together, having broken every law of the world you'd existed within. Both ethical and literal. 

"I told you something was going on!" Sarah exclaimed, hands rising in annoyance. 

"I thought you were smarter than this…" Pope spoke with a shake of his head as you began to cower to their judgment. Despite the fact Sarah and John B had been together, damning their own social constructs, you'd found a double standard between you and Rafe as it wasn't simply your friends who made it difficult, but the fact he was Sarah's brother. 

"Of all people, of all fuckin Kooks and you pick Rafe?!" Kiara added, shaking her head. 

"At least it’s just sex.." JJ muttered before Rafe interlaced your fingers, allowing you to find peace in this innocuous assurance that made those before you silent. .

"Oh shit…You are actually TOGETHER…" Sarah asked as JJ was now pacing in confusion. 

"I need to stop smoking right after class…" He muttered as Rage spoke on behalf of you both. 

"It isn't like we planned for this, okay? But yeah, we're together…and if you have a problem with that, then its yours, but it doesn't change anything…" His eyes found yours at his side. "I love her…" 

Sarah noted the sincerity in his words, her brother having only ever been reserved, at best, with his emotions until claiming his feelings for you. It was enough to soften the hardened heart scarred from a feeling of betrayal. 

"Maybe it isn't so bad…" Everyone looked at Sarah with surprise. "I mean if she can see something in Rafe, maybe we should give him the chance…" 

"Doesn't mean he gets to touch my shit-" JJ exclaimed while sparking a blunt between his lips. 

"Besides, it isn't fair that we get to be happy and we're keeping them from having the same thing…"

"Sarah?" John B questioned as she ignored his confused summons. 

"But you screw this up Rafe, and you'll have to deal with us-" He nodded, pulling you against his side as Pope let out a sigh. 

"Guess we've got one more honorary pogue…" He muttered while making his way out the screen door behind JJ and John B. 

"Come on…best we start mending these burnt bridges now…if you can keep your hands off of each other long enough, that is…" She rolled her eyes and made her way onto the porch as you moved to follow before being apprehended by Rafe. 

"No promises…" He spoke behind his sister's back as he brought you into a kiss. 

"So you love me, huh?" You teased, rising to the tips of your toes. 

"Way too fucking much…" He answered. 

"Better go before I take you again on the couch…" You were led to the yard of the chateau, Sarah's words having earned enough to convince the core pogues to give Rafe a chance. 

The remainder of the night was spent in laughter and joy, Pope and JJ even managing to find common ground with Rage as his eyes always found yours from across whatever space you shared. The berating delivered from Kie and Sara was quickly rectified once they saw how happy he made you, and this had been enough for everyone to have a change of heart to a war now finding a reprieve from your love between the pogue princess and the kook prince…

Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets

[circular-bircular]

hi, have you ever read "normal dimensions of multiple personality without amnesia"? i really have no idea how to read these kinds of things but i'm super interested in them, and from my very lacking understanding of it, i thought it might be some validity for endogenic plurality? but again- i really don't understand these things so i'm probably misunderstanding. so! i was wondering if you had any thoughts on it, and perhaps could explain it in simpler terms for those of us who haven't learnt to read these things :)

Hello! Yes, I have unfortunately read that article. It is a fakeclaiming, ableist abomination, in my opinion.

A summary of my thoughts: The authors of the piece, in an attempt to "prove endogenic plurality," suggest that DID is fake, that those who have DID just "gave themselves" the trauma, and that the only pathologic part of DID is the amnesia those systems face. It uses the Fantasy Model (a version of the False Memory Model, wherein people just Fantasize their trauma) to fakeclaim a diagnosed system from a case study.

I wrote an entire debunk of the article over on my alternative blog.

I am disgusted by the researchers of this article, and I'm glad you sought out someone to explain a bit more. If you don't want to slog through that full link, I can give a bit more analysis below (rather than the liveblogging I need to do to get through articles such as that one, since I also struggle with dissecting medical literature!)

TW below for fakeclaiming of both systemhood and multiple types of trauma (sexual, physical, neglectful, etc)

The authors base their study on the idea that children experience shifting personality in adolescence, and argue that this is non-pathological. This is widely accepted! Someone shifting personality traits as they grow up is absolutely not the same as DID. The authors go on to argue that the amnesia criteria was added in the DSM-4, and go further to argue that so-labeled "high-functioning MPD systems" could actually be "totally normal people with multiple personalities with no amnesia."

(Note: "totally normal people" is a lovely touch of ableism, as if people with DID are not normal, and totally normal high-functioning systems without amnesia already have a label. OSDD.)

The methods of this study are so minimally described that I fear my 6th grade students produce better lab reports in their science classes. A survey made by the researchers wherein only one subjective personal response on their own criteria indicates dissociative identity disorder, because it 'totally correlates to the DES, trust us guys'. The sampling is even shorter and negligent to the point of feeling purposeful.

Part of the way through the article, they shift their hypothesis. In the start of the essay, they set out to prove that multiplicity without amnesia is a normal experience and that trauma is what causes amnesia. Here, they change the hypothesis to be a bit reversed; that multiplicity is normal, and in DID, amnesia is imposed upon an already functional multiple system. If your red flags have not raised yet for the fakeclaiming, they should be up now.

Especially because, yep, they go on to fakeclaim a case study, Frieda. This individual was diagnosed with DID. This article claims that most traumatized people do not dissociate (with no source for this claim, particularly because the claim is batshit), and that "fantasizers" like Frieda (you know, a woman with severe trauma) just... imagine their feelings to be fully fragmented parts!

It seems to be that they try to argue that these imagined parts are what every system experiences, and people get amnesia if they imagine they should (as seen by their accusations of Frieda's fantasizing).

BTW: Frieda was orphaned as a child, raised in orphanages where she was abused, neglected, and without proper food and shelter, and then molested by soldiers in the war she was living through. The article skips almost all of her traumatic childhood and suggests that, after being raped (while the original case study states "molested"), she gained amnesia for the event, which made her imaginary friend into a disorder.

So... yeah! There you have it folks: all systems are just made up, and DID/OSDD is caused when those systems (who are making it all up) actually experience something that causes amnesia!