#your complex feelings toward sex are not my fault even though i pushed you into believing certain things. etc' Like what do u say

[raven]

Oh ok. People who were groomed and blame the people who groomed them are the same as transphobic detransitioners

[bakugosbratx]

Warning: NSFW 18+ Content. Sexual intercourse, angst, pregnancy, cursing, fluff, degrading, etc.

Words: 1.6k

Check out my other works here

A/N: I just realized there isn’t much talking at all. I’ll make up for it in part four. This shit is sad. I am sad so it’s fitting. I’m sorry in advance. I hope you enjoyed.

Part Two | Finale

Tags: @awilddreamerwrites @miriobaby @lanarist @peachsenpie @milkthistletea @sickchildren @bakugousbrat @lil-miminini @tremendouswolfsaladranch @ssplague @vinny-likes-to-play21

Not every story has a happy ending. Y/N is learning this the hard way.

“CEO of Bakugo Industires, Katsuki Bakugo, shows off his new girlfriend at the Industry Ceremony tonight—“

You turn your phone off. Your red, swollen tear filled eyes could not look at the words and pictures anymore. The press sure did know how to capture the model’s perfect angles. A courtesy they would never give you if you were ever lucky to fill her shoes.

The way Katsuki’s muscular arm snaked around her tiny little waist made you fall ill. The flash of his glamorous smile filled your broken one with rage.

Your ears are filled with the salty liquid that flowed from your orbs. You are not even sure how you are still breathing. It shouldn’t hurt this much. It shouldn’t feel like this. You are just fuck buddies.

Were just fuck buddies.

The words will not stop replaying in your head. It’s been over a month. It’s spinning on a broken record player. All the emotions you felt in that moment intensify with each passing day. You should hate him for abandoning you, but your heart cannot do so. All you wanted was him.

You knew better than to fall for Katsuki. He told you to keep your feelings out of your sexual relations with him yet here you are, sobbing into your bedroom pillow, a growing fetus inside of you.

The room felt restricting of your oxygen supply. The ceiling fan sent chills down your warm spine. Your body aches and your throat feels dry. Katsuki’s cruel words along with his actions strangle you. You have not been able to see straight since.

The next couple of months of work are pure hell. You did your best to avoid Katsuki and he did the same. You noticed that Katsuki did not look at you as you were the only one in the room anymore. He seemed to look past you. If you dared meet those beautiful crimson eyes for even a slight moment, you were left feeling disgusted with yourself. Katsuki has a way of speaking without actually doing so. You adored and hated that about him.

Whenever he addressed you for business matters, you had trouble formulating sentences. Your eyes always seemed to be puffy from the endless nights of hysterical tears. Katsuki’s voice held more aggression than you are used to. Maybe you wanted him to at least have some sympathy, but that was nowhere to be found. He soon stopped inviting you to meetings.

You two did a wonderful job of finding the long way around the office building. Any precaution there was to take, you both did, but no plan is bulletproof and you are going to see each other at some point.

You two have not seen each other in over a month — almost two — and you have been feeling stronger than before. Less weeping nights, you are back to eating a normal diet, and you are more well rested. The bags under your eyes became less noticeable, but they still lingered longer than one would prefer.

You dried off your hands in the restroom — the one furthest from you and Katsuki’s office — and headed out to get back to work. The hallway is quite vacant around this time of day. Everyone is either on lunch or too focused on their work before packing up for the day. Your heels echoed amongst the marble floor. Looking up, your breath hitched.

Your eyes met the ones you desperately wanted to despise. Yours held sadness and desperation while he held anger and disgust. The way Katsuki viewed you, you started to view yourself. Even if it isn’t your fault.

The glance was only a maximum of five seconds, but those five seconds felt like a decade for you two. A period of time you would come to mentally plead for overtime.

You have not seen him for another three weeks after that. The cycle repeated: you sobbed, and sobbed some more, and then you started to cry less.

Then it happened.

You are coming into work late due to a doctor's appointment. The baby is healthy as are you so that is lovely news. Something you would love to share with Katsuki if he even remembered your name.

The elevator was taking its sweet time getting up to the floor where your office is located. You felt strong. How could you not? Your baby is going to be okay from the looks of it. A little human is excited to meet you and you are becoming excited to meet them.

Maybe things are starting to fall into place.

Elevator doors open. You begin to walk forward but come to a halt with the man standing in front of you; Katsuki Bakugo.

Your heart races with your bottom lip begging to quiver. You do your best to hide it though as you brush past one another. A jolt of electricity shot through you. The slightest graze of his calloused fingertips felt so rigid yet so soft. Your instincts force you to look up to see the stranger peer down at you. The stranger you used to know.

“See me, Katsuki. See me as the woman you used to know.” You mentally beg. You just wanted him to see you as somebody. Somebody he used to want.

Katsuki paused there, speaking to you through his eyes. This time, they did not hold as much disgust as before. Maybe it’s the hormones, but you could have sworn you witnessed longing within the roots of his irises. If Katsuki was capable of processing his emotions and allowing them to show, he would write them on his features. He remains stone cold, preventing his fingertips from latching onto yours. So, awkwardly they lay, both of your breaths caught in your windpipes until Katsuki decides to break free of the shackles.

You attempted to be in Katsuki’s space more. You knew him like a book just like he did for you. You both learned each other’s frequent routines.

Awkward encounters became more frequent and you both secretly looked forward to them. Long stares that withheld unspoken phrases. Katsuki’s gazes turned from disgust to softness. Especially with your stomach starting to show as the months rolled on. Still, not a word was spoken

The corporate office began to talk. Chatter amongst Katsuki’s employees disturbed his peace of mind. He knows he has to address you at some point, but what is there to say? What could Katsuki even begin to formulate for you to understand where he is coming from? You are due sooner than he is comfortable with. There is no hiding your stomach.

You never asked a penny from him. Hell, you have not even tried to speak to him since that night. You only spoke when formally addressed. Even that was rare.

Katsuki replays that night a lot while laying in bed. He claims what you two had was just two coworkers having sexual intercourse, but nothing can hide the way he moans your name when he masturbates or has sex with someone else. The way he sees you in every female he comes into contact with. Nothing can hide the way his natural rapid heartbeat stops by the mention of your beautiful name. Don’t even get him started on the way you purposely would get on his nerves. They are all part of the list of delicate little things he missed.

You have every right to hate him. Katsuki would not blame you if you did. His hatred for himself reflected in his actions which ultimately was passed onto you. You carried that burden. He would search for the reflection of his anger in your orbs, but they held none. They held nothing but sadness and love. Love he refuses to accept.

Katsuki laid in bed, alone, allowing his mind to wander. He cursed you for keeping him awake. He is a busy man with things to do yet your features haunt him. The thought of someone else touching you the way he does killed him. He knows he would have heard muttering by now if you went to his rival yet there is silence.

You are silent.

You are falling deep into your peaceful slumber. Something you have been doing more lately. You no longer need the lullabies of your heartache and unwanted whimpers for comfort. You are more at ease.

A heavy knocking at the door startled you. Groaning and gazing at your cell phone, the time read the time.

1:03AM

The knocking picked up again. You are not expecting company at this hour so you take precautions. Grabbing the metal baseball bat you keep under your bed, you stroll to the door. The knocking echoed through your apartment complex much to your sleeping neighbors dismay. Your adrenaline rises with each step you take towards the door. Gazing out the peephole of your front door, you see Katsuki standing at the door.

Throwing the baseball bat to the side, you open the door.

“Katsuki, what the—“

Katsuki ushers himself in, not even giving you an opportunity to scold him or ask anymore questions. Instead, his lips are entangled with yours. Magnets desperately pulling towards each other. You attempt to push him away as you smell the alcohol lingering in his breath, but Katsuki is much stronger than you are.

Your mind is telling you to hate this, but your heart speaks otherwise as Katsuki pushes you against the beige wall, caging you in with his arms. You did not even try to stop him as he began removing any article clothing on your body. Your lips only disconnected for short seconds before meeting again. Now you are laid on the kitchen table, Katsuki’s thick erected cock deep in your pussy, begging moans escaping your parted lips.

Here we go again.

©bakugosbratx

All Rights Reserved

[keanureevesisbae]

You're on a roadtrip and in the middle of nowhere, your car breaks down. Obviously your phone died too - what happens next?

This, is very interesting and my horny brain figured out what would happen next 👀👀

Walter Marshall x fem!reader

Wordcount: 1.5k (yes, a lot happens)

Warnings: Fingering, squirting, unprotected sex 👀

‘Piece of shit,’ you mutter under your breath. You cannot believe this happened again and to make matters even worse, you're in the middle of fucking nowhere. Last time your car decided to break down, at least it happened downtown, meaning there were around five men who saw you hopelessly staring at your car, not knowing what to do and offered their help.

Now, you’re by yourself.

You grab your phone from the passengers seat, only to discover the most horrible thing that could ever happen to you.

Your battery died.

It’s probably around thirty minutes until you reach some sort of civilization and it’s getting darker and darker.

Oh no, is this how people get murdered?

Great, now you’re not only by yourself, but you also scared yourself by envisioning horrible scenario's. You pop the hood of the car, only to realize that everything looks the exact same and you have no idea where to start. Why do the problems have to be so complicated? If it were a flat tire, you probably would’ve managed to fix it, but this is on a whole new level of complex.

A car stops behind yours and your heart stops for a few seconds. Please don’t be a serial killer, please don’t be creepy in general. You peek around your car, only to see the very familiar truck. You’ve seen that car around in town, including the owner of it.

You watch him step out of the vehicle. His shoulders are broad, his strut is confident and his brows are furrowed, but that is nothing new. When he sees it’s you, one corner of his mouth curls up. ‘Sweetheart,’ he says and you can’t help but slightly giggle when hearing that nickname.

Detective Walter Marshall is a very well loved customer at the cafe you work at, mostly because he comes by every day and has become a reliable income. He always orders one cappuccino to go and sometimes he goes a little crazy and orders a cookie with it as well. He rarely smiles, but recently you noticed that whenever you took his orders, you not only earned yourself a very lovely 'Sweetheart', but also a small smile. Sometimes, he would even go as far to asking you what your plans were for after work and when you answered with whatever the plans were, he would simply nod and tell you to not have too much fun without him.

It was cheeky and slightly flirty, but it was always within the four walls of the cafe and nothing happened. You wished though. Walter Marshall was a very desired bachelor in town.

‘Hi detective,’ you say with a smile.

‘Car trouble?’

You nod. ‘Yes, it’s just that my car gives up from time to time.’

‘I see, I see.’ He rolls up his sleeves and stands next to you, examining everything. He starts to say something about some sort of liquid/fuel-thingy, but you have no idea what he means. Not only are you distracted because it’s too complicated, but also because of his outstanding beauty. No man in town tips to him.

Of course you fantasized about him, just like everyone else. There was quite the age gap between you, a rough fifteen years, but that never stopped you from having the most disgusting, NSFW dreams about him.

‘What?’ you ask him, when he looks at you, obviously waiting for an answer.

‘You weren’t listening,’ he chuckles. ‘That’s okay. What I said was that it’s too late to call for a tow truck and that I can’t fix it right away. We can leave your car here and I can drive you to your place if you want.'

'But what if it gets stolen?'

'How?' he asks. 'The car doesn't work, right?'

You shake your head. 'Maybe it's for the best. It's a stupid car anyway. The only reason I have it, because I got it for free.'

'Maybe that should've been a red flag. Free cars are rarely reliable.'

You scoff. Dammit, you hate it when other people are right. 'You sure you want to give me a lift?'

Walter scoffs. ‘I’m not gonna leave you in the middle of nowhere by yourself.’ He closes the hood of my car and adds to it: ‘Besides, I don’t want anything to happen to my favorite barista. You’re the only one who hasn’t messed with my cappuccino.’

You shouldn’t giggle or feel nervous, yet you do both.

‘Come on, go grab your stuff and we’ll go.’

You walk over to the driver’s side and lean over the seats to grab both the key from the ignition and your bag. Then you realize that you are wearing a pretty short skirt and your underwear is a bit on the flimsier side. You hear an approving hum from behind you. Part of you wants to die of shame, the other part however makes sure things heat up in between your thighs.

When you get out of the car and close the door, Walter has his arms crossed in front of his chest. ‘One condition, sweetheart,’ he says, taking the bag from your hand.

You frown. ‘For what?’

‘For me to give you a lift back home.’ He holds out one of his hands and says: ‘That piece of fabric you call your underwear, please.’

You blink your eyes once, twice and the universe how many times after that, mostly because you cannot believe those words—those dirty words—left his lips. His expression barely changed. It’s the emotionless look you are so used of seeing, but the words that take you by surprise.

You have had many dirty daydreams, but handing over your underwear in the middle of nowhere wasn’t one. You hook your thumbs behind the waistband of your panties and push it down your legs. When you step out of them, you hand them to Walter, who nods in approval.

The two of you walk towards the passenger’s side of his truck, when he grabs you by your hip and turns you around. With your back pressed against the door, he lets his hand slide underneath your skirt between your thighs. Your lips slightly parted, as his rough fingers knead the soft flesh of your thighs. ‘Do you have any idea how much I’ve been wanting this?’ he asks you. ‘It’s always those pretty smiles,’ he continues, ‘the way you lean over the counter in those tops with a deep neckline and how you bite your lip when you’re focused. Have you got a clue of what that does to me?’

‘No detective, I don’t,’ you whimper.

Walter smiles at your desperation, as you’re already grinding against his fingers. Fuck, he knew deep down what you could be, but this he didn’t expect. He dips in one finger, but when he discovers how wet you are, how ready you are for him, he pushes in another.

Your pleasured moan fills the emptiness around you. You’re a loud one too, Walter thinks to himself. You sure are the jackpot. His fingers brush against all the right spots. He watches your eyes rolling back, your breathing become ragged and your thighs and walls clenching together. ‘Beg for it,’ he says.

Instantly, you obey. ‘Detective, please, please, can I cum?’

There is no way you are truly real.

He barely has the change to answer, when you tumble over the edge. When you have to hold onto him since you can’t trust your own legs. When you squirt passed his fingers down your legs. The sobs and strained moans that leave your lips, make him grin in satisfaction. He roughly slams his lips against yours and within a second you melt against him.

He pulls out his fingers and without letting go of your lips for one millisecond, he opens the door of his truck. ‘They always say you are such a lovely young lady. So innocent and sweet,’ he says to you. ‘But you’ve got a dirty streak.’

You bite your lip and let out a sweet giggle when he turns you around, bending you over the passengers seat of the truck, your toes barely finding the ground. As Walter uses one hand to knead the soft flesh of your ample behind, the other unzips his pants and pulls out his cock. After pumping it a few times, he lines himself up at your throbbing cunt, before pushing himself in entirely.

The sounds that leave your lips, make him go feral. Part of him wants to take the time, worship your body and look you in the eye as you fall apart in his arms. But that part doesn’t have the upper hand now. The part that wants to destroy you, rail you, fill you is completely taking over.

There is no stopping now. Skin slapping against skin. His groans mixed with your cries of pleasure. He can feel it, your warm walls that feel so good around him, start to squeeze his hard member. ‘Detective, I’m close again,’ you wail.

‘Let it go, sweetheart,’ he tells you and on cue you start to shudder, your orgasm washing over you and that’s enough for him to reach his limits. He holds your hips tightly, probably imprinting you with some bruises, as he paints you from the inside.

He gives himself a few seconds to regain himself, before he pulls out and watches it all drip down your legs. You’re limb, barely able to stand on your legs. Your skirt is still bundled up near your waist, revealing your beautiful round bottom.

He grabs you by your arm and pulls you against his body, pressing his lips on yours. ‘You’re gonna make a mess on my seat,’ he says.

‘You’re fault,’ you mumble against his lips, only for you to earn a sharp slap on your behind. ‘Sorry, detective,’ you whisper. ‘How— Where do I sit then?’

He smiles. ‘Right on my cock as I drive you to my place, because we’re not done yet.’

✨ Okay, I'll see myself out now ✨

[bakugohoex]

“i want you to have me...all of me”

pairing: hitoshi shinso x female reader

cw: virgin!reader fluff, porn with a plot, nsfw (MINORS DNI! loss of virginity, corruption kink, dacryphilia, kissing, fingering, spit kink, oral fixiation, creampie, consensual sex, protected sex, nipple play, nipple sucking, jaw grabbing, praise kink, degradation, bondage by capturing weapon, biting and marking, hair pulling, cunt slap)

word count: 5300+

a/n: i haven’t posted in a week cause of revising but yeah this is for a collab and i have one more collab event going on so yeah from now to the 21st they’ll only be this fic and another fic coming out, enjoy.

other information: corrupt a virgin collab by @seita

summary: in which shinso finally takes the next step with his sidekick after being unable to confess he finally works up the courage finding out your own secret as you both decide to take the next step in your newfound relationship

↞ back to my hero academia masterlist

He couldn’t help but stare at you, stare at how pretty you looked on his arm, you were more than just your looks though. The way you silenced a room with your quirk, the way you were able to easily fit into any conversation and the way you always eagerly spoke to the pro hero.

It had been a long night of mingling at the event for pro heroes that Shinso almost forgot the real purpose of it. It wasn’t like the two of you were dating, you were his sidekick and that was it, you had a powerful quirk that would get you far in the hero society. But most of all you were so damn innocent.

Your lingering eyes on his form as he entered the agency, the way you’d give him those tender looks whenever he explained the day's tasks. He couldn’t help but stare at you from a distance, the way you spoke calmly to the other side kicks. He had brought you along to the event more for his own benefit than what he had told you the day prior. Words of getting you to talk to other pro heroes when in reality he had just wanted you on his arm for the night.

The stupid purple dress that clinged to your body had made him unable to resist the temptation. You looked too good to be left alone, so as he remained at your side, introducing you to other pro heroes, Midoriya and Todoroki both smiling happily at you. You seemed to easily converse with the two pro heroes even speaking to the rowdy Bakugo as he arrived with drinks for the three of them. Midoriya offered his to you which you had happily taken, Shinso didn’t need to worry, of course he didn’t.

But another feeling had taken over him as he watched you converse, watched you happily take the drink. Fingers brushing against Midoriya’s fingers, a feeling of an unknown jealousy that made him begin the walk towards the four of you.

His arm moved to your back as you gave a sweet disgusting smile at him, “haven’t been getting into any trouble, have you?”

“No…of course not,” you stifled as he smirked looking down at you.

“We should get going,” he led you away as his hand remained on your back, he turned to meet the three men who watched you leave. A sickly smirk on his face as he couldn’t help but feel a burst of energy hit him as he talked to you.

You were too perfect for him to not resist, for him to not touch. “it’s so early though Shinso.” You whined as he didn’t meet your gaze, you were nothing more than his sidekick, you have no feelings for him, he could tell from the way your gaze lingered back at the hall. “We sh…”

“We have an early morning,” he interrupted as you closed your mouth, your proposition to spend more time with him seemed to have gone over his head as he began stepping down the steps towards the car park.

You hated how cold he could get in a matter of seconds, how every time you’d see him smile and it would turn into a scowl once he realised what he was doing. On many occasions your friends at work had told you about the many occasions of when Shinso would get pissed off and the whole agency would become annoyed as well.

Shinso watched as you hadn’t followed him as you looked up at the night sky, thinking – most likely about how much you wanted to be nowhere near the man. His dull eyes focused on you as he saw you take the steps towards him cautiously. You were too pure, too vulnerable for him to ever have, and as he kept you at an arm’s length he knew tomorrow was already doomed to be an uneasy day.

Shinso had dropped you off to your apartment without a world, he watched you enter the complex before leaving. He was about to drive off when he banged his hand against the steering wheel, if only he had confessed, the event was supposed to be the alone time he had wanted with you. But his insecurities and nerves had gotten in the way, as he banged his head against the wheel he couldn’t help but feel almost pathetic.

He had gotten over the torment of his quirk being villainous years ago but now with someone so filled with a painting vitality that was unknown to him he couldn’t handle it. What was even worse was the way you banged your head against the door. You could’ve said something more, reassured him, asked to spend more time. But you had remained frozen even in the car ride, your gaze on the wisps of black and everlasting speckles of white shine through the mist.

Both of you remained tormented by your overthinking as neither realised the feeling that was ready to explode tomorrow.

You walked into the agency bright and early as you were met with one of your friends, Mai grabbed your hand as soon as she saw you. Taking you to where some of the offices were and most of all where Shinso’s own office sat, the glass separating everybody from him. As you looked through the transparent material, “what’s happening?”

“He’s been in his office just staring outside of the window for the past two hours,” your eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“Okay and why doesn’t someone just go and ask if he’s okay?” You questioned as you were about to step forward and go yourself.

That’s when the feeling of multiple arms stopped you in your tracks, “listen newbie, there’s one rule you have to follow here and that is to never go into his office without him asking.”

You chuckled at how stupid they were all being, “what’s the worst that’ll happen?”

“You don’t want to know?” One of the sidekicks said as he shivered.

You raised an eyebrow giving an unamused look as you barged past the hands, they looked at you hesitantly but didn’t stop you, “newbies gonna learn the hard way.” One of the sidekicks said as Mai elbowed them watching what was to occur.

You knocked on the glass as you didn’t hear a response but still walked in, “Shin…”

Half way through your speech you felt his capturing weapon wrap around your body as he turned the chair, his eyes widened as he saw you caught in it. He let go in a matter of seconds, but eyes remained still as he looked at how you still gave a toothy smile. “I…I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I got warned so it's my fault…” you trailed off as he began to unwrap the cloth off of you. The image ingrained of you wrapped in it as he was able to fuck into you, shaking his head as he put it back around his neck. “…is everything okay?”

“Yeah…” Shinso looked outside seeing how people seemed to be doing everything but their jobs. He stepped past you going to the glass as he opened the door, “don’t you all have patrols to go too?”

His eyes flashes into a haze as everybody seems to scurry to grab their things for patrols as they leave the building. “Come on…” he murmured as he began walking out of the building, if he was going to go on a patrol he was going with you,

He had spent too long of a time without you that if he wasn’t going to confess today then he’d forget about you. He was giving himself today, he had to do it, he was a Pro Hero, he had everything he had wanted. His dream was a success  but your arrival had made him want you and now with you so close in his grasp he had to try at least.

His eyes flashed to the way you walked beside him, you seemed tense, quiet even. Your hero costume ordaining you perfectly, the whites and lilacs making the pure vessel you had ready to be tainted. He licked his lips as he fingers went through his hair, the Artificial Voice Cord around his mouth.

You always loved the way it worked, having heard Shinso speak about it when you had first arrived. It was interesting and the start of what you would call a friendship when you had asked to see how it worked. “Your staring Y/n,” he said, “focus on the civilians.”

You nodded as you looked back to the surrounding areas, it seemed like villain attacks were on a low at the time, even with petty crime it was easily handled by the both of you. You wanted to speak about last night, how he seemed to want to confess of something but instead the silence and awkwardness that occurred instead.

“Shinso…is something wrong?” You murmured as you both walked passed an alleyway.

He looked down at your face, the way your hero costume clinged to every part of your body. He had no idea how you didn’t get cold from wearing it especially when winter occurred. But your question made him think instead, he was only irritated this morning due to not confessing to you.

But his liking of you stemmed from more than just wanting to ruin the purity you had, he liked how you spoke to others, how you easily became friends with the other sidekicks, how you looked was an added bonus. But most of all he liked that stupid goddamn smile you’d have whenever you saw something you liked. And at that moment Shinso was seeing that stupid smile, the way your eyes crinkled, and lines formed as your lips were full and cheeks pushed to show even more of your smile.

He stared at you, the way you continued to look up and smile at him he was silent, and you didn’t care because he finally looked at peace. The startling noise of an ice cream van to the side had made you focus away from him, the way you stared at the kids holding their ice cream as it dripped to the side of their fingers. “Come on, I’ll get us one,” Shinso didn’t let you answer, instead taking your sleeve as you both went towards the truck.

He was avoiding the matter at hand, he hated how he couldn’t be his normal blunt self, he was able to talk to people. He knew he was that’s how he had made friends when he had finally joined the hero course. But as he looked over at you, the way you looked at the different ice creams before pointing at the one you wanted…you were someone who wouldn’t glance at him twice.

As he passed the ice cream to you, you took a lick of it as you looked at him take his own. He didn’t even know if you knew what you were doing, licking at the sides as he watched your tongue. He shook his hair trying not to stare but as you both continued the patrol of a less crime filled area. The ice cream dripped to the side of your hand and finger.

There was a silence as you both ate in silence, as you both turned to see the agency. Your fingers with the white dairy as you sucked on it, he couldn’t help but watch as each finger came out of your mouth with saliva sticking to it.

It was Denki who had got him out of the trance, stopping the both of you as he came from his own patrol, “Shinso,” the man looked at his friend as he gave a tired look.

“Oh Kaminari, what are you doing here?” He questioned as he watched his blond friend look down at you.

Denki already knew of you, having seen you last night but not spoken to you. He had seen Shinso’s lingered looks and had often heard the man speak fondly about you, “just passing by you must be the Y/n I’ve heard so much about.”

“You’ve heard about me,” you smile out, it wasn’t the same one you had given to Shinso but Shinso was able to witness you converse with his friend. How much he loved that about you, how whatever situation you were put in your ease to become friends with another pro hero.

Denki nodded as he looked back at Shinso, “all good things, you were right she is very pretty Shinso.”

Shinso glared at his friend as Denki chuckled, “I better leave before I get punched by lover boy.”

“Kaminari,” Shinso murmured as he just wanted his friend to leave. Denki left with a wave as you gave a confused look tilting your head to the side to look at Shinso.

“Pretty…”

“I…I…” Shinso knew it was now or never to confess. Knowing that the rest of his day would end up becoming busy with other sidekicks and scheduled meetings he had. He stopped you in your tracks as he looked down at you, your soft gaze staring up at him lightly.

“You are…You’re pretty…”

“Oh thanks, I don’t really see it, but I guess the quirk makes me look more pre…”

Shinso interrupted quickly, “No…no it’s not that. Fuck…” his hand went to the back of his neck as he didn’t dare look into your eyes, “I like you, okay? I don’t want to ruin anything though and you probably don’t like someone like me because of my quirk and…”

Your hand went to his cheek as you stopped his rambling, “you’re such an idiot.”

“If you’re going to reject me you could be n…”

You interrupted him once again, “I’m not, I like you too…you’re the first person I’ve ever…ever liked and I guess I’m not very good and showing my feelings…but I do like you too.”

He met your gaze as your hand remained on his cheek, he looked at you, how small you seemed. Your eyes flashed to his lips as he looked at you softly, “we can take things slow, whatever you want.”

Before you both could lean into one another, the sound of sidekicks coming through the corner made you both move apart from one another. An unnerving silence between the two as Mai came towards you, “let’s get some lunch Y/n.”

“Okay,” Shinso had been taken by some of his other sidekicks over an issue that occurred as you and Mai left on your break.

Giving one last look behind you as you looked at the man, he had a new glistening to him as he licked his lips. He was finally accomplished as he couldn’t wait to finally have you be his.

The day continued with Shinso being busy with the issue that occurred, you had barely seen him as you and Mai went on another patrol, both speaking about the events of the weekend. You spoke about the pro hero event you had been to and how nice the number one pro hero had been. A shocking surprise for Mai who seemed to feel intimidated by the green haired man. “I’m telling you he was so nice, like he offered me his drink.”

“Ugh I wish Shinso had invited me now, I want to meet him so badly,” you chuckled lightly as you both watched the sun begin to set. You could understand why he had invited you of all people last night now, how his stuttering of how pretty you had looked in the dress you wore for the event. It had all connected and all you could think about was the man.

When you both arrived back at the agency, an uneasy emptiness had settled, Shinso was missing alongside other sidekicks. You and Mai didn’t question it as you both grabbed your stuff to leave, just as you both stepped outside the doors, you saw Shinso pulling at his hair as he seemed angry about something, taking aggressive steps as he walked towards his office. You would have gone to see him if the pull of Mai didn’t stop you, instead taking the long walk back to your apartment instead.

Shinso had become pissed as soon as his sidekicks spoke of what occurred, having to spend the whole day sorting out their mess. He had finally come back to the agency after hours of running around the city. His mind had been on you and with you having already left and unfinished business occurring.

His mind was focused on just you, wanting to only see you, wanting to only have you. As he took his car keys, leaving the agency as quickly as he could, a few goodbyes here and there. There was only one thing on his mind, and it was you, corrupting you.

You had finally felt free after the confession this morning, lying on the sofa as you flicked through some shows. Shinso had been your first crush ever since you had first seen him when he was starting out. But for him to like you back, you felt like a kid. A worry settled through you, you were inexperienced, not even having had your first kiss let alone slept with someone.

Under the guise you had of wanting to seem pure, an unsettling urge to have Shinso in you had taken over you. The way his hero costume clung to his frame, his hands moving through the capturing weapon. The said capturing weapon wrapped around your wrists as he fucked your mouth, you couldn’t lie and say that even if Shinso had spoken of taking things slow all you wanted was him.

The sound of the door being knocked at made you jolt as you opened the door to see the man in question. He was still wearing his hero costume as he looked at you with a fiery lust, “I can’t wait,” he murmured.

His hands went to your neck as his finger brushed against your cheek, lips smashing against one another. You didn’t know what you were doing, instead hands moved to his hair as you followed his movement with your own. His tongue gliding through your mouth as it skimmed against your tongue, he heard your low moan as his other hand moved to your back making you arch into the kiss.

He let go as your faces stayed close to one another, the fury remained not subsiding. He looked at you with lust as his mouth moved to your neck, “I need you Y/n…please.”

A soft kiss placed against the crook of your neck as you leant your head backwards to allow him more access. You had been thinking of this for too long, wanting him but his edge as his fingers played with your shirt. Slipping under as his hand gripped your sides, feeling your skin under him.

“Shinso…” you whispered as his mouth continued to kiss at your neck, he looked up at you. A realisation flashed through him as he let go of you.

“I’m sorry Y/n…I shouldn’t have…I said we should take things slow and I…I…forgive me today has just been…” he had begun pacing around, as he went to close the door.

You didn’t know how to react, you wanted this, wanted to help him and as you interrupted him, your own lust took over, “I want you.”

He stopped in his tracks as he looked at your form eyeing you up and down as he moved towards you once again, “are you sure?”

“Yeah…” you looked down as you didn’t want to admit the truth.

“Y/n…” his hand moved to cup your face, forcing you to stare up at him as his lips were close enough for you to touch, to feel once again, “tell me properly that you want this.”

“I want this…it’s just…” he waited for the response giving you a tender look as you looked at him with a soft glow “…I’m a virgin.”

He always thought the persona you put on was a façade that someone capable of fighting any villain and talking to anyone would have had one-night stands. Especially with how pretty you were, everything about you was pretty from the way your hair sat to the way you spoke. Shinso’s quirk relied on people talking but whenever you spoke he felt more enchanted than any of the people influenced by the brainwashing.

“That means I can ruin you…myself.” He felt even more turned on as he watched you stare up at him, he pushed you back on the arm rest of the sofa. You sat on it as one of his legs spread your legs open, hands gripping your face, his thumb skimmed against your lips as he pushed it inside watching as you sucked at it. “You gonna let me ruin this pretty…” his thumb moved out of your mouth as he skimmed your saliva across your mouth and cheeks, watching the spit fall down.

“Yes…” you were breathing heavy as he smirked seeing how dazed you looked. Your face tainted in a matter of seconds, gripping your jaw with one hand as his other went under your shirt. He went under your bra as his finger moved to flick against your nipple.

The instant you moaned, mouth agape, the build of spit he had in his mouth was spat right into your tongue. You moaned as his finger continued to pinch at your nipple, the spit mixing with your own as Shinso was able to see the strings of saliva against your tongue and mouth. “You’re already doing good baby.”

The praise sent a flutter through your body as he noticed how your eyes glossed, “let's finish this in your room.” He gripped your thighs bringing your legs to wrap around his waist as your arms moved to his neck.

You kissed him as he could taste his own saliva and your spit mix between both of you, as he kicked the door open, seeing how your room reflected you perfectly. He put you on the bed as your mouths remained connected. Spit on the sides of your mouths as he saw how much you craved him, your hands moving to grab onto his capturing weapon.

He closed the bedroom door as he knelt on the bed, one knee between your own as he wanted to feel how wet you were. Taking the capturing weapon off of his neck, he watched as your eyes lingered onto it, putting it to the side where he could easily grab it. He kissed you softly, leaning down as your back hit the duvet.

“You sure you want to do this?” He whispered as his hand lingered across your shirt, his hand waiting to hear your response.

You nodded as he waited to hear you verbally say it, “I want you to have me...all of me.”

It was all he needed for his hand to lift your shirt above your head, the way your breasts sat in your bra, hard nipples from his fingers already having flicked against them. “I’ll make you feel so good, baby…make you scream for me.”

You moaned as his mouth sucked at your nipple, his fingers flicking against your other one, as his other hand moved to your joggers. Hand about to divulge into your underwear, your hand had moved to pull at Shinso’s hair as he continued to suck and nibble at your tit.

“Hi…Toshi”, at the sound of his name, his hand went into your underwear, feeling how wet you had gotten. His fingers beginning to play with your clit, feeling the nub between his fingers as your moans intoxicated the room. “M…more…please..” you arched your hips to feel his fingers against your slick filled clit.

The movement made Shinso stop sucking at you, he looked at you, how slutty you had become to feel even more of him. He took his hand out of your underwear as you whined to feel more of him, his fingers filled with your slick, “already wet…isn’t that slutty of you…” He watched as you tried to get passed his legs to feel some more but he put his fingers across your lips instead, “you want to taste yourself…open up.”

He was too close to your lips as just as you opened your mouth, he moved his fingers and sucked on them himself, “you took too long.” He teased as he sucked each finger forcing you to watch as your hands tried to get to his trousers, but his other hand had restrained both. “If you keep moving I’ll have to tie you up…or is that what you want?”

You both looked to the side where the capturing weapon was, he leant against you, the imprint of his cock through his trousers pressing against your clothed cunt. You rutted against him, he gave a groan at the movement against his cock as he took the capturing weapon, the carbon coil flicking between his hands as he grabbed your hands. His cock skimming past your cunt once more, as he put your hands above your head, using the cloth as it wrapped against your wrists, tightening it at each movement you made against him.

“You want to be tied up for me…if you’re going to act like a slut, I’ll treat you like one.” He watched how your chest became full and raised as you arched to feel more of him, he took his shirt off as he was left shirtless.

Your eyes filled with a hunger as he went down to kiss you, “reply to me or I won’t fuck you baby.”

“I…I want to be tied up…” you whispered acknowledging how turned on you had become just from his action.

“Good…” his hand moved to your underwear, going past it as his hand patted your cunt, “…girl”

Both his hands moved to pull your joggers down your form, pulling your underwear down simultaneously. He watched how flushed you had become from being exposed, “pretty virgin cunt baby.”

“Take it…” you murmured as your hands ruffled against the material.

He undid his belt as he looked at you softly, “I intend too,” fingers moving past your clit as two fingers divulged into your cunt. The feeling of your walls pushing against his fingers, “you touched yourself baby.”

“I…I…” as his fingers moved inside of your cunt, you moaned as he went further into you, “Y…yes…”

“Naughty girl aren’t you,” he watched you squirm, your legs twitching at the feeling of his thick fingers pumping back and forth into your wet cunt. “Want to cum? Want to cum on my fingers baby?”

“To…Toshi, ple…please let me…cum…” your mouth had widened, drool coming from the corners as you felt a coil in your stomach.

He pumped into you continuously, his fingers moving into the back of your cervix as he watched you twitch even more, “cum for me baby.”

“Toshi…” your loud scream of his name as the coil snapped the gush of cum being pushed back into you as his fingers continued to move past your first orgasm. “Wan…want your…” you didn’t have to finish the sentence, already knowing what you wanted as he watched his fingers were soaked in your cum. Stepping out of his trousers as he took his own boxers off, the imprint of cock made you lick your lips. He went into his pocket finding a condom as he looked down at you.

Cum dripping onto the bed sheets as your cunt looked plump and swollen, ready for him to take something no one else had even seen. Rolling the condom onto his cock, his fingers moved to your mouth, letting you have a taste of any cum that was left on his fingers. “You ready for this baby,” he whispered as his arms trapped your frame, he leant down to kiss you as you moaned a yes. “This is gonna hurt a little bit…”

His indigo hair damp as it rested against the back of his neck, he watched your hands squirm wanting to touch his hair as he moved one hand to unravel the capturing weapon. As soon as your wrists were free your hands went into his hair, pushing him to kiss you more, his cock moving past your clit and first orgasm.

“I want you…” you whispered as your faces were only a mere inch away from one another, he looked down at you as your eyes were filled with a different feeling. Not of a lust that you both had experienced, but a passion to finally become one.

His cock moved past your clit, he pressed into you slowly as he watched you moan, eyes watering. Wiping the tears with one hand, “you’re doing amazing baby, just a little bit more.”

His cock was half way into you as he began to thrust back out of you before going back in, your eyes watered even more at the feeling of his thick cock stretching your cunt out. “To…Toshi, I can…can take m…more,” he nodded as he pushed into you, his base finally meeting the entrance of your cunt as you moaned his name.

He began to thrust back and forth into you, going deeper into you at each thrust, your legs wrapped around his waist as his knelt feeling his cock go into your even more. His mouth went down to kiss you softly as saliva missed between one another once again, the feeling of his spit sticking to the corners of your mouth were prevalent as he continued to fuck into you. “Yo…you’re so fucking pretty baby,” he whispered as you he moaned into your ear.

The sounds of him groaning and moans of your name making you want to feel him forever, “To…Toshi please more….” His thrusts became quicker as he watched your eyes roll to the back of your head. Your hands limp around his neck as even your legs seemed to have fallen due to the impact of each thrust.

As you gained your high, eyes opening as you saw his form, the way his hair fell across his face, his perfect body and cock, but most of all the look of love he had for you as he met your eyes. “I want to...be with you,” you whispered into his ear, his form changed as his thrusts became even more sloppier, “Hitoshi…I…I love you…”

“I love you too Y/n…” the sound of his voice making the coil snap in your stomach, feeling the white gush out of you. Each sloppy thrust becoming even sloppier as you moaned his name at the feeling of your release. The use of your cum being used to help him get even more into you, “I fuckin…love you baby.”

His words repeated as he felt his own high, groaning your name out loud as the cum gushed into the condom. Sliding out of your cunt collapsed beside you, sweat across both your forms as you gave a tired look at him, the night sky reflecting from outside, the small lamp to the side illuminating the room as he turned to see. The way your chest rose, cum dripped down onto the bed and hands moved to move his hair away from his face, “I do love you Toshi.”

He took the condom off as he tied it letting it drop as he watched you move to rest against his chest, fingers against his lower abdomen. He smiled watching how your eyes became tired and began dropping down slowly, the feeling of his body against you remained.

Kissing the top of your head, he pulled the covers on top of you both as he watched you snuggle closer into him. Almost wrapping your body against him as he looked up at the sky seeing the wisps of new stars and new colours, looking down at your sleeping form and the new relationship that had formed.

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[wildernessuntothemselves]

Prey for You

Genre: Smut

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: You have a thing for prey hybrids. You admit. The way they tremble under you while simultaneously baring their neck for you gets you off. It's not your fault Chan's friend group has so many pretty little boys that you're constantly running south of him. You see, the wolf hybrid doesn’t very much appreciate you preying on his friends.  Warnings: switch!reader, switch!chan, wolf!hybrid chan, fox!hybrid reader, chan has a big dick, size kink, too much dirty talk, power dynamics, degradation, messy dirty sex so don’t @me 

Edit: I’m so dumb I forgot to mention that Chan’s character in this is inspired by @skzctnightnight​‘s Prowl so go read it because the smut is even hotter in it and there is a complex, intriguing storyline to boot uwu

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4 Part 5, Part 6

Credit to the gif that started my chan obsession 

“You’re really pretty.” You drawl, brushing your hand over the flushed face of the squirrel hybrid you have pinned against the door, the party in full swing just outside. “You know that?”

He opens his mouth to say something but all that comes out is a whimper as you press your knee between his legs, rubbing your thigh against his hard length. Poor boy doesn’t know what to do with himself. He is simultaneously terrified and turned on. The predatory way you were looking at him triggering his flight response, but the seductive purr to your voice and his precarious position make it hard to think of anything other than you.  

And that’s exactly how you like them--scared, pretty boys who are so horny they ignore their instincts. They like it too, if the fact that they always come back for more is anything to go by. Danger just tastes so sweet.

You’re so high off the delicious smell of Jisung that you don’t realize he is there until he’s banging on the bedroom door. “Open the fuck up, fox.”

You pounce on Jisung, ignoring the banging on the door and kissing him. You’ll be damned if you let that meddling wolf ruin yet another hookup for you. But the low growl rumbling deep in your throat tips the scales too much, and the squirrel hybrid cowers back, his fear overtaking his hunger now, and you know you’ve lost him.

“If you don’t open up, I’ll break this fucking door.”

Huffing through your nose, you step away and yank the door open to face the infuriating newcomer. “What do you want?”

He quickly pulls Jisung to his side. “I thought I told you to stay away from my friends.”

“And I thought I told you to lighten up and stop cockblocking me.” You spit, turning to smirk at Jisung. “I just wanted a little taste.”

Chan pushes him further behind him, and growls at you, the sound much deeper and more menacing than your own and you have to stop yourself from taking a step back. “You will not come near my friends again or I’ll make you regret it.”

You roll your eyes at that. “What will you do to me, give me a stern talking to? You’re all bark and no bite.”

The glare he pins you with makes goosebumps erupt all over your body, his lips drawn back to bare his sharp canines threateningly, and for a second, you think he might actually attack you. But then he closes his eyes and lets the anger blow out of him in a forceful sigh. He turns his back to you and shuffles Jisung out of the room.

“Typical.” You mutter sourly. Of course he’d back down, that’s what he always does, and it pisses you off more than it had any right to. “You’re a disgrace to predator hybrids everywhere.”

That gets a reaction out of him.

Chan slams the door behind Jisung and whips around towards you, eyes glowing red. “I’ve had just about enough of your shit, little fox.”

You pause for a second, frozen with fear as his figure looms above you, all his anger returning with full force. But as you’ve been told before, your curiosity will be the death of you, and you can’t help but want to see if you push him a little more, will he let you or will he finally retaliate?

So you go against every survival instinct you hold in your body and wrap your arms around the neck of the wolf who was regarding you with fury, and the action is so unexpected that it makes him falter.

“You should make it up to me, you know?” You purr, pulling him closer to you, even though your heart is beating like crazy in your chest. It takes him by surprise too, and his eyes widen from their glare. "What are you doing?"

"You keep taking away all my boy toys so I think it’s only fair that you be a good pup and fill up the void you’ve created." You lean up, kissing his lips. He goes rigid against you, and you wonder if the moment has finally come when someone puts you in your place. Well, it was worth a shot.

But just as you’re about to let your panic overwhelm you, Chan returns the kiss, his hand wrapping around your waist and pulling you to his body as he deeps the kiss. The hard muscles you feel against you steal your breath. He could snap you in half if he wanted to, but that only makes you want to test him more.

You pull at his shirt pointedly and he steps back and lifts his arms up, letting you slip the shirt off him. He was as ripped as he felt, and the knowledge fills you up to the brim with the urge to subjugate him, to make this powerful wolf kneel for you.

You push him to the bed and climb over him, sitting down over his growing erection and rocking your hips over it, making him groan lowly. “Are you going to be a good puppy for me, Channie?”

He frowns at your words, but gets easily distracted when you take your top off, his gaze getting glued to your chest.

“You like this, baby?” You smirk, cupping your bra-covered breasts. “Want to see more?”

He nods eagerly, his hands coming up towards your chest, but you slap them down. “No, bad dog!”

He reels back like a kicked puppy, confused on what he did wrong, so you elaborate. “That’s not how we ask for something, baby.”

Annoyance covers his face again and in a split second he flips the both of you over so he’s now on top. "I'm not a fucking pet."

You cup his cheek gently, "No? From the way you act, one would think that you’re practically begging for someone to collar you up and make you their obedient little puppy."

He starts growling again, baring his teeth at you, but you don’t back down, wrapping both your hands around his thick neck, mimicking a collar. “I can be your master, Channie. You just need to be good for me.”

You can feel the raw power coiled in the muscles under your fingertips, just ready to spring and tear you apart. He could overpower you if he wanted, but this isn’t a battle of physical strength. You know it. He knows it. And he stays.

"Good boy."

He shudders at the praise, liking it a bit too much for someone who just threw a fuss about being treated like a pet. "Of course you like that. You're just an oversized lap dog, aren’t you?"

“You’re pushing it.” He snarls, pulling back to yank your bra off, not even bothering to unhook it first. He doesn’t stop for a second as your pants go next, followed by your panties. You can feel his strength as he tears your clothes off your body but you just find his frustration amusing. He hates this but he can’t stop. It’s different from your normal dynamic with boys, he’s motivated by anger rather than fear, but the end result is the same. 

When he goes to bury his face in your pussy, you grab him by the hair and pull him back. "No."

He stops resisting at once, looking absolutely dejected at the denial. You fake a sympathetic look. "What's wrong, pup? You want it?” You spread your legs and move a hand over your pussy, playing with it a little, teasing him. You’re so turned on that you don’t have to fake the gasp that slips out of you when your fingers touch your clit, and he responds with a low whine coming from the back of his throat. "Use your words, puppy."

"I want it."

"Then strip for me, baby."

He obeys, quickly kicking his pants and boxers down and confidently displaying himself to you, making you scoff. "Of course you're big."

That takes him aback. "That's bad?" He unconsciously pouts, obviously not anticipating the disdain in your voice. He was probably always praised for being so well-endowed.

"It's like everything else on you, just for show. I bet you don't know how to use it and you'll just impale me with it. No thanks." You try to push him away, but pushes you back down.

"Scared of my cock, little fox?" He mocks, hands nudging your knees apart. "I thought you were gonna own me."

"I'm not fucking scared." You seethe, “I just don’t want you to waste my time more than you already have.”

"You play too much, foxy.” He drawls, and you watch warily as he brings two of his fingers to his mouth to wet them before he slips them between your legs. “You wanted me. Now you're going to get me." He says before unceremoniously pushing his fingers inside you.

"Shit, so tight." He pumps his fingers in and out of you, moaning at the feeling of your walls hugging his fingers tightly.  "Gonna fuck this sweet little pussy wide open, baby."

You couldn’t bear hearing him talking so condescendingly to you. You were supposed to be the one in control here, not the spineless wolf who seemed to grow enough balls to fight back all of a sudden.

"If you're going to be so vulgar, I know a better use for your dirty tongue." You sneer, pushing his head down your body. He goes along easily, his plush lips caressing your skin on the way down, his kisses getting wetter along the way until his mouth meets your pussy in a messy, open-mouthed kiss.

You can't even fight back the moans he elicits from you. He is really good with his mouth and his fingers fill you up just right that you feel yourself slipping. You need to turn this in your favor.

“Good boy.” You breathe, attempting to make it seem like you were still in control of yourself and not falling apart on his fingers and mouth. "Finally something you can do right."

Seeing through your weak attempt--and perhaps in retaliation-- he bites down on the inside of your thigh, his sharp canines almost breaking the skin. But an even sharper sensation quickly diverts your attention as he pushes a third finger inside you. You cry out, nails digging into his scalp as you pull on his hair in pain, but it doesn't phase him. He's determined to work you open with his fingers, his mouth going back on you to take some of the edge away, having the time of his life if his wet, muffled moans against your pussy are anything to go by.

And when the slide of his fingers gets a little dry, he pulls his fingers out and puts them in his mouth, getting them wet again, his eyes meeting your half-lidded ones as he makes a show of lathering his fingers with his saliva, moaning hungrily at the taste of you, before he plunges his fingers back inside you. He does this a few times, each time making you feel both relief and frustration--relief that his fingers are giving your poor pussy a break and frustration that he’s taking his sinful mouth away from you. But with every time, it gets easier and easier to take his fingers again. Until, the fourth time he does it, your hand clasps around his wrist, keeping it in place as you whine and fuck yourself on his fingers.

"Fuck." He breathes out, climbing back up your body to latch his mouth on your neck, and growling lowly. "Getting needy, little fox?"

You groan, yanking on his hair harshly and ripping his mouth away from your neck. "I wouldn't be like this if you weren't sabotaging every chance I get at a fuck."

"Oh, it's gonna get much worse for you, baby. I'm going to stretch this pretty pussy out with my big, fat cock, until I ruin you for all your pretty boys." The audacity of this guy.

“You’re so fucking full of yourself. If you think that you can dom me with your dumb cock then you’re--” You cut yourself off, face paling as he pulls his fingers out and presses the blunt head of his cock against your opening. He looks at you expectantly, eye-brow raised as he waits for you to continue your rant, but you bite down on your tongue, refusing to give him what he wants.

“What’s wrong, foxy? Got nothing more to say about me and my dumb cock?” He grins, easing his dick inside you, stretching you even more than his fingers did. “Don’t you wanna tell me more about how unaffected you are by all of this?”

You glare at him, your fingers digging into his shoulder blades, drawing blood, yet the grin on his face never falters. When he’s halfway inside you, you can’t keep quiet anymore. “Fuck… you’re going to split me open.” You grit out and his hips jerk a little, pushing more of him inside you suddenly. A scream escapes you before you bite down on your lips. “Fucking mutt! Can’t you control yourself?”

“How can I when you’re so sweet to me?” He bites at you, voice getting rougher and breath getting heavier. He’s starting to lose control too. You realize that this is your chance to reclaim the upper hand. So you wrap your legs around his hips and, through gritted teeth, you steel your breath and pull him closer, pushing him the rest of the way inside you.

“Ah fuck!” Chan groans, face falling in the crook of your neck as you hold him up to the hilt inside of you, your walls clamping down on his dick, trying to push him outside. He tries to rock his hips into you but you hold him in place with your legs, making him quickly grow impatient. "Baby, let me move." He whines, mouthing at your breasts, sucking stinging kisses all over them as he lets out his frustration on your poor tits.

"No. You don't deserve it." You grit out, "You've been a bad dog."

To your surprise, he moans out at your words, bucking against you once again, the force of it allowing him to move inside you just a bit and you yelp, scratching at his back and biting onto his shoulders in response, but that only seems to make his hips rut against you more.

"You like that, don't you?” You hiss mockingly, “Are you getting off on me being mean to you, Channie?"

“You're such a fucking bitch." He barks, grabbing your thighs and splitting your legs open harshly, pinning them down on the bed so he could finally start fucking you.

“Shit---shit!” You squeak, the drag of his cock against your walls burning, and you find yourself clinging to him as tears prickle at your eyes. You try to hide your face in his chest, but he hears your little sniffles anyway, and his reaction isn’t what you expected--not the concerned tone of his voice as he cups your face and asks you if you’re okay, and not the hunger in his eyes that only seems to get darker at the sight of your tears.

It’s with a start that you finally realize the situation, and you can’t help but laugh despite your tears. "You dirty fucking dog. You’re loving this, aren’t you?”

It's your turn to grab his face and make him face you as he tries to look away. "Does hurting me turn you on, Channie? And here you were trying to act like a fucking savior."

"It's n-not like that." He shakes his head, yet his hips never stop moving.

"No? Dumb mutt can't even still his hips long enough to lie. Is this what secretly gets saint Chan's rocks off? Are you like this with your bitches or is this just for me, baby?"

He sucks in a sharp breath, eyes squeezed shut as he mumbles something that you don’t quite catch.

"Speak up dog." You slap him lightly, and his eyes gain back a little of their sharpness as he looks down at you.

"No. They can handle it. It's only you that is breaking on my cock." He grits, hips driving into you faster as he fucks you with his eyes as much as he fucks you with his dick that you weren't made to be on the receiving end of.

"So that's it then, you like knowing you're the biggest I've ever had?” You ask breathlessly, trying to hold onto your sanity as he takes you roughly. “You enjoy watching me struggle to even take you in?"

He stays quiet, but the sharp snap of his hips against yours gives you all the answer you need.

"Dirty mutt." You croon, tugging at his sweaty bangs so you can keep them away from his face so you can see his reaction to your words. "I bet you cum a lot too, would be absolutely dripping from my tight cunt."

"Oh, god, have mercy." He cries out, pace getting erratic as the combination of your filthy words and your tight pussy start getting to him.

"Who knew I didn't even have to fight you? All I had to do was let your filthy brain and your dirty cock work you up to this state. You really are just an animal after all." You bring his lips to yours, swallowing down his pathetic protests, the frantic grind of his member in and out of you suddenly feeling erotic now that the big wolf was a whimpering mess in your arms. Pulling back, your wet mouths still stringed together with saliva, you prompt, "Aren't you, baby?"

The breath hitches in his throat as you clench down on him, your sore pussy finally feeling the pleasure he's forcing on you, and it manifests with a vengeance, intense and dizzying. "Y-yeah."

"Tell me." You demand, kissing along his clenched jaw.

"I'm just an animal." He pants as you suck a bruise under his ear. "I love fucking your little pussy with my big cock. I love making you cry. I love you being mean to me. I love you treating me like a dog. I love it all."

"That's a good boy." You praise, kissing him again and he can barely breathe from the heat of it all. "Cum for me, puppy. Stuff me full with your seed like I know you wanna."

Almost as if on command, he cums, chanting a mantra of "thank you, thank you, thank you" in your ear.

"Yeah, let it all out, pup." You massage his ass as his hips stutter against you. "Want you dripping out of me for days."

"Fuck...you're gonna kill me." He heaves as his cock spurts out the last of his cum, and you smile in victory. You did it. You've subjugated him.

He sits up as he pulls out of you, watching darkly as his cums trickles out of you. Cursing, he quickly scoops it up and pushes it back in, the slide of his fingers so much easier now that you've taken his cock, and the copious amount of his cum making it way too easy.

His fingers are a blur as he pumps them in and out of you and it hardly takes any time before you're grabbing his wrist to stop him as you cum. But he doesn't. He fucks you through your orgasm, not even slowing down as he pins your thighs to the bed and continues railing his fingers into you, tearing a second orgasm out of you before the first one even has a chance to fade.

"Chan, stop." You cry out, body convulsing on the mattress, and he looks up from your cunt to see your pained face, and he finally stops, quickly taking his fingers out and wiping them on the bed before climbing up your body and catching your mouth in a kiss.

He murmurs little praises against your mouth like “you took me so well, baby” and “you did so good”, and it makes you grimace even more. You attempt to push him off of you, but you have no strength left to fight him off. Not that you ever did in the first place.

"Stop that!" You snap at him, and he stops.

"What’s wrong, baby? Was I too rough?"

You snort, "What do you think?" You gesture to your body that was now sore all over and probably developing bruises.

"Shit, I'm sorry. You just got in my head." He breathes out a flustered laugh.

“I know.” You apparently still have enough energy in you to gloat. 

He frowns but ignores your comment, just watching as you wince whenever you try to move. "I can take you back to my place if you're too tired to go back to yours."

"Yeah, no shit you will." You confirm, having already decided that in your head. He did this to you. It's only right that he should take care of you after.

"Oh, okay ummm… let's get you dressed then." He quickly stands up to get you your clothes, only to realize that he tore most of it apart. "Ah, shit."

You roll your eyes, "Give me that." You say, pointing to his oversized shirt. He rushes to bring it to you and helps you put it on, the process a little tricky as the events of the night catch up with your body.

He smoothes your hair down once you're done and carasses your cheek, giving you a look that you don't like one bit so you smack his hand away and point a finger at him, "Hey! There will be none of that. You hear me?"

His face quickly straightens out and he snorts, "Excuse me for trying to treat you like a lady."

"Oh, fuck off." You stand up on shaky legs, and you can already tell that this will take a few days to wear off. "Let's go." ____________________________________ A/N: so came out as the victor after all? it’s really up for debate lol

[anarmorofwords]

Hi! You're probably not going to like this ask, but before getting into it I'd just like to say that this isn't meant as Kamala hate or anything, and I don't really want to offend.

Having said that, wouldn't it make sense that we get to see how Kamala treated Anna after she came out? It's in all likelihood one of the things that's weighing on Anna the most.

Obviously Kamala had her valid reasons: her parents aren't as liberal as the Lightwoods, she believes (knows?) their love is conditional as she's adopted, she's not white and not being heterosexual could further any treatment she's suffered from being different... Her reasons have already been listed multiple times by multiple people. Kamala has the right to stay in the closet and fear coming out. And while that shouldn't be villianised, we can't forget that closeted people can harm those around them.

If Kamala had kept treating Anna like a good friend, rumour would've sparked, and even if it was denied, she'd have been harmed by merely associating with Anna. Especially with the life Anna began leading; she could have been labelled as one of Anna's 'conquests' by the Clave. That, as we've established, is detrimental for her safety.

But at the same time, it would create a breach between Anna and Kamala. And Anna had the right to be hurt by it and weary of it when Kamala said she wanted a relationship.

If we look at it from that perspective, Anna's actions (though inexcusable in how they treated Kamala --who was also at fault for not accepting a negative for four months) make sense. Kamala wasn't only a fling of a week*, but also the girl she lost her virginity with, who asked her to be her secret (until she married Charles, after which Anna's affections would be discarded), who hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna suffered from homophobic commentary, and who now wants a relationship hidden from most of the people that know her.

Kamala shouldn't be forced to come out; but the harm that can do to the women she may engage with is reflective of what happens nowadays. I can mostly think of examples with gay men, so my apologies in advance. But how many women have seen their marriages ruined by their husband having affairs with men?

Creating characters that reflect a toxic part of the 'hidden' LGBT community shouldn't be seen as hating or villinifying. Thomas isn't out and he isn't labelled a villain by the narrative --because his actions don't harm anyone. The hate Alastair gets in-universe is because of his past as a bully, not because he's gay. Matthew's not fully out and he isn't villianised --like Thomas, because the decisions he makes to keep his sexuality hidden don't impact anyone negatively.

I'll even go as far as saying that not even the narrative villianises characters like Kamala and Charles. If it were, they'd be seen more like Grace in Chain of Gold. We'd see how Kamala's actions are affecting Anna's in more ways than anger (that in itself put the fandom against Anna), and the characters would note so. We wouldn't see scenes were Cordelia empathised with Charles, nor Matthew said he loved him.

Be it as it may, Kamala and Charles represent ugly parts of being closeted that can naturally occur when someone is in their position. LGBT people are human. Humans, when put into very difficult situations (and Charles risks his career; Kamala her safety), can make decisions that harm those around them. Consequently, the people they're harming have a right to feel, well, harmed in whatever range of ways --this goes mostly for Alastair, and very partly for Anna, whose treatment of Kamala was horrible.

Readers need to understand what is pushing these 'villianised' characters to harm (again, mostly for Alastair) the more prominent characters and go beyond how they are instantly depicted. Because these are complex characters based on complex real people influenced by very ugly realities we will move on from someday, but sadly not yet.

By the way, Charles and Kamala's situations aren't that similar beyond the closeted thing, but I crammed them together because of a post I saw you reblog.

Please understand I'm not justifying Charles's actions; that I understand the pain he's put Alastair through, and know that he shouldn't ever be near Alastair. Nor am I trying to justify Anna's actions nor hate on Kamala.

I'll just finish my pointless rant by adding that I do think cc has sensitivity readers. I think she asked a gay man to go through tec (I don't know if he still revised her other books, though), and know she asked POC's input when writing someone for their culture. I don't know much beyond that, but I doubt who revises her stuff is up to her. Wouldn't that be something the publisher is responsible for (honest question)?

*I've also noticed people using the argument that they didn't know each other long enough for Anna to harbour such ugly emotions towards Kamala, but Kamala also remembered Anna pretty deeply and is 'in love' with her. I just wanted to say that considering cc writes (fantastical) romance where someone can ask a woman they met two months ago marriage, stressing over time spaces doesn't make much sense. Just my take.

hi!!

alright, where do I start? probably would be best with stating that while I can analyse Kamala's situation with what I know/see/read about racism and discrimination and reasonably apply things I've read/heard from PoC to the discussion, as well as try to be as sensitive about it as possible, I'm still a white woman, so not a person that's best qualified to talk about this.

that being said - if someone wants to add something to this conversation, you're obviously more than welcome to, and if there's something in my answer that you don't agree with or find in some way insensitive or offensive - please don't hesitate to call me out on that.

back to your points though: (this turned into a whole ass essay, so under the cut)

I don't think Anna shouldn't be able to reminiscent on Kamala's behaviour/reaction to her coming out, or be hurt by it. what bothers me is the way CC talks about it - I can't remember the exact phrasing, but the post where she mentioned this suggested something along the lines of "you'll see how Kamala sided with the Clave and didn't defend Anna after her coming out", therefore putting the blame on Kamala and completely disregarding the fact that Kamala wasn't in position to do much at all. It suggest that their situation was "poor Anna being mistreated by Kamala". therefore I'm afraid Kamanna's main problem/conflict will remain to be portrayed as "Anna having to allow themselves to love again and forgive Kamala", while Anna's shortcomings - and Kamala's vulnerable position - are never discussed. I think it would be possible to acknowledge both Kamala's difficult situation and the possible hurt her behaviour caused Anna without being insensitive towards Kamala's character, but it would take a really skilled - and caring - author to do both of the perspectives justice. CC would have to find a balance between being aware of the racism/prejudice Kamala faced/ writing her with lots of awareness and empathy, and still allowing her to make mistakes and acknowledging them. As it is however, I'm under impression that she's just treating it as a plot device, a relationship drama.

I'd say no one expects characters of color to be written as flawless or never making mistakes, it's mostly the way these mistakes are written and what things these characters are judged/shamed/

And that's - at least in my understanding and opinion - where the problem is. it's that the narrative never even addresses Anna's faults, and portrays Kamala as the one that caused all - or most of - the pain, without ever even acknowledging her problems and background.

White characters in TLH make mistakes and fuck up - because they're human and they're absolutely allowed to - but the thing is, non-white characters aren't afforded that privilege. Anna's behaviour is never questioned - none of it, shaming Kamala for not being able to come out, dismissing her desire to be a mother, or any of the questionable things she did in ChoI. Same with Matthew, James, Thomas. Alastair and Kamala however? they're constantly viewed through their past mistakes, and forced to apologize for them over and over, forced to almost beg for forgiveness. Moreover, those past mistakes are used as a justification of all and any shitty behaviour the other characters exhibit towards them now, which is simply unfair and cruel. They're held to a much higher standard.

So I'd like to say that yes, Kamala was in the wrong to keep nagging Anna after numerous rejections, and she was in the wrong to not inform Anna about Charles prior to them having sex - but that doesn't give Anna a free pass to constantly mistreat Kamala. And let's be real, Anna isn't stupid - while at 17 she could be naive and uninformed, I can't imagine how after years of hanging out with the Downworlders and numerous affairs and being out and judged by the Clave she's still so ignorant about Kamala's situation. I definitely think she's allowed to be hurt, but to still not understand why Kamala did what she did? Anna isn't blaming her for not telling her about Charles earlier - which would be fair - but instead for refusing to engage in an outright romance with her. She's being ignorant - and consciously so, I think.

Overall, I think you're definitely right about how coming out - or staying closeted - can be messy and hurt people in the process, especially in unaccepting environments/time periods, and I've seen enough discourse online to know there will never be a verdict/stance on this that will satisfy everyone. I, for one, would really like to refrain from putting all the blame on a single person - but, at least the way I see it, CC is pointing fingers. maybe not directly, but she is. Kamala, Alastair and Charles have no friends or support systems, and the only people in the narrative that defend them are themselves (ok, Cordelia does defend Alastair from Charles, but not from shitty takes about him and his "sins"). Also, sorry, but I don't like how you say "hid her sexuality for two years and sat back while Anna experienced homophobic comments" - it sounds very much judgemental. Kamala had every right to do that? The fact that she slept with Anna doesn't means she owed her something, and certainly not coming out and most probably destroying her life, or even defending her at the - again - expense of her own reputation, or more possibly safety.

As for Charles - it's a different issue here, at least imo - I fear that it'll be implied that his refusing to come out will is his main "sin", and therefore not something he can be judged for, which ironically, will be villainizing, but mostly will mean his actual sins are dismissed. This is where the scene with Cordelia feeling a pang of sympathy for him comes into play, and it worries me. I've never hated Charles for not wanting to come out, but rather for, let's see - grooming Alastair, disregarding Alastair's needs and feelings, disrespecting his mother, being a sexist prick, being low-key far-right coded "make Shadowhunters great again" etc.

As for sensitivity readers - I'm no expert, so I don't think my input is worth much. From what I've gathered from multiple threads/discussions on twitter, tho it is probably consulted/approved by the publisher, many authors push for that - and authors less famous and "powerful" than her. I'm not a hater, but seeing fandoms' opinions on much of her rep, I think she could do better. Because if she does have sensitivity readers, then they don't seem to be doing a great job - maybe they're friends who don't wanna hurt her feelings? Or maybe she thinks a gay guy's feedback will be enough for any queer content - which, judging by the opinions I've seen from the fans, doesn't seem to be true.

Again, these are mostly my thoughts and I'm more than open to reading other opinions, because *sigh* I really don't know how to handle this.

Bottom line - I really really don't want to be hating on the characters in general, playing God in regards to judging the struggles of minorities, or even criticising the characters too harshly for being human, flawed etc. What my main issue is is how CC handles those complex and heavy topics.

I hope I make sense and this answer satisfies you somehow - I also hope someone better equipped to answer might wanna join this conversation.

* I desperately need a reread of TLH before I engage in any more conversations like this, but I didn't wanna leave you hanging. So yeah, I might be remembering things wrong. Again, let me know, I'm very much open to being corrected as well as to further discussion.

* I use she/her pronouns for Anna because that's what she uses in canon

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Pt.3 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N catches the eye of one of her male classmates who invites her to an upcoming party. As she weighs her options, Peter takes her out for a treat but old history comes back up. 

Word Count: 4.1k

Author’s Note: I hope everyone is safe during this crazy time. Remember: Wear a mask, wash your hands, and only leave your house for necessities! You can literally stay at home and read fanfiction all day and you would be saving lives! I introduced a new male character and I’ll be real, Joshua Bassett needs to be appreciated so I put him in! However, for the character Josh you can think of any celeb or crush you have if you want! 

Warnings: Adult language, mentions of sex

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || 

part seven || part eight || epilogue

When Monday rolled around, all you wanted to do was stay home. You felt that there was too much going on to just go on autopilot for eight hours at school when all you could think about was how to fix Peter.

While you had decided that you would at least be nice to him, there was still a small part of you that was worried about what would happen if he never got better. 

How much of your relationship would change and worst of all, what would happen to his ‘superhero’ duties?

If you were really the only thing running through his mind, how would he even function saving lives?

As much as you wanted to sit and worry about him, you knew you needed to get your own life together before you started fixing other people like going to school.

You went to college-prep academy which really just meant that everyone had to wear uniforms to kill all individualistic forms of expression and pay ridiculous tuition to learn. 

You really didn’t mind since most of your classes were ridiculously easy but a lot of your classmates were spoiled monsters who liked to flaunt their rich last name.

Lucky for you, Stark was pretty hard to beat.

Once you slipped your blazer on, you grabbed the straps of your backpack and walked out into the kitchen to pack your lunch where Peter was already awake, making breakfast.

Usually, by this time, Peter would already be on his way to school on the subway but your dad and Banner thought it would be best for him to stay at the complex so they could run more tests on him.

Peter took his attention off of the stove and drew his eyes towards you, his face already flushed red as he tried not to stare below your skirt,” Y/N! You look really pretty in your uh- uniform.”

At this point, you knew that whatever words that came out of Peter’s mouth wasn’t his fault so you decided to roll with it. You were so used to him always giving you snarky replies about your school uniform but now, you didn’t have to waste your energy thinking of a comeback.

You hummed as you leaned over the kitchen island to grab a piece of bacon that was off to the side,” And you look really pretty in your pajamas Parker. How are you holding up? Are they getting any closer into figuring out how to stop your chest pains?”

Ever since Peter first made contact with the lovedust, he had been complaining about how tight his chest was feeling. It seemed like a normal side effect since it would happen whenever you were close to him but as days passed, his chest started to hurt more every time you weren’t around.

You felt guilty knowing that you going to school would literally cause him pain but at the same time, you couldn’t adjust your whole life around Peter.

Peter shook his head as he swallowed hard,” No not yet but I’m sure they’ll figure out something soon... I packed your lunch by the way. It’s over there by the sink.”

You looked over towards the sink and sure enough, your lunch bag that you hadn’t used since freshman year was neatly packed. You didn’t have the heart to tell him that your school had really good chicken pesto on Mondays so you gladly looked through the lunch bag to see what was inside.

As you looked through it, you could see a white piece of lined paper folded and taped against a small packet of Oreos. Peter noticed that you had found the note and this time, his face grew redder.

“ You can throw it away if you want, I thought it would be nice or whatever,” Peter said quietly as he walked over to where you were standing.

He reached for your lunch bag but you tensed up, pulling it towards your chest,” Aw, come on Parker, please? Technically, this note is like mail and you know it’s a federal crime to tamper with it.”

Peter bit the inside of his cheek and nodded as he rubbed his sweaty palms on his thighs. You had never seen Peter ever this flustered before and a part of you felt guilty that you were the reason he was so nervous but a part of you liked the attention.

You had to remind yourself that once Peter was cured, it gave him free rein to possibly be the same dick as before. At least for now, you liked being friends with Peter.

“ I gotta go now but I’ll see you after school,” You finally said as you put your backpack on and walked over to the elevator,” try not to die or anything.”

“ I’ll do my best, have a good day,” Peter smiled as he suddenly remembered something,” oh, make sure you bring an umbrella, it’s supposed to rain today.”

You checked your phone to look at the weather for the afternoon but saw that it was supposed to be bright and sunny all day,” I’m sure it’ll be fine, bye Parker.”

Once you made it all the way downstairs to the main entrance, you looked behind your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you before rummaging through your lunch bag. You took out the note Peter had written to you and even though you didn’t even open it yet, you already felt your stomach twisting and turning.

You had a feeling it would be him saying how pretty you looked or how much he loved you since he was under his lovey trance but when you opened up the note, you felt yourself smile.

Thank you for not being weird about everything that’s going on. I’ll make it up to you, I promise. P.S I love it when you call me Parker

                                                      -------

School dragged on and on and by the time the last bell had rung, you felt like you were on the verge of dropping out.

Any of your STEM classes weren’t as interesting or as challenging to you anymore, especially since you had a whole floor in your own house that was just laboratories filled with people who have actually won Nobel Prizes.  

Once you left class, you made your way straight to your locker and put your math textbook into your backpack. When you shut your locker, you looked up to see your friend Kim holding up her phone towards your face.

“ Hello to you too, what am I looking at?” You asked as you took her phone to get a better look at the screen,” is this a Snapchat invitation?”

“ Good, you can read,” Kim teased as she adjusted the straps of her backpack,” Amber is throwing a party on Saturday and we have to go!”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you handed the phone back to her. You didn’t hate parties but you much rather preferred smaller functions with all of your friends than a room filled with total strangers your age.

“ I thought we hated Amber and I’m pretty sure she hates us. She literally called you rat face when you were doing your presentation and you pushed her into the trashcan the other day,” You reminded Kim as your mind thought back to how much you disliked Amber.

If your school was the chocolate factory, Amber Kennedy was Veruca Salt. Anytime she pouted and whined about whatever new golden ticket she craved, she got it.

While Amber never anything specific towards you, anyone who disrespected your friend was an enemy in your book.

Kim rolled her eyes as the two of you made your way down the hallway,” Okay that’s true, I hate that bitch with every fiber of my being but I just need a mental break from school. Plus, it’ll be good for you to get yourself out there. I heard a certain lead singer in a band is looking forward to seeing you there.”

You knew right away who Kim was going on about but you only shrugged,” I don’t know who you’re talking about...Is it raining outside?”

Of course, she knew you were lying because there was only one guy you ever mentioned around her when you weren’t complaining about Peter.

Joshua- or Josh- was one of the few guys in your life who managed to not piss you off completely but that wasn’t the only thing you liked about him.

“ Let me refresh your memory; dark brown, curly-haired genius who sits behind you in Anatomy and according to you has ‘perfect brown eyes that make me want to jump off a bridge’?” Kim reminded you as you playfully hit her shoulder.

You were never the type to be boy crazy and you weren’t one of the girls who felt their knees buckle every time they saw him, but whenever he would wave or smile at you in class, you had to physically stop yourself from blushing like a schoolgirl.

In all honesty, you wouldn’t say you and Josh were friends, a better-suited term would be classmates that occasionally talked about things outside of school ever now and then. 

“ Look, as much as I would love to go to a party where I know no one and where the host hates me, I’m not going to go to a party just because Josh is going to be there. I don’t care how cute he is, I’m busy dealing with you know who,” You said as you heard someone chuckle behind you.

“ You think I’m cute?”

Your heart dropped to the floor as you turned around to see Josh standing behind you with a wide smirk on his face. You could feel your throat hitch as you quickly looked Josh up and down to make sure he was not a figment of your imagination.

It was nearly impossible for anyone to look good in a school uniform but of course, Josh managed to pull it off every time. His tie was loosely undone around his white collar and his sleeves were rolled up all the way to his elbows and you were 100% on board with it.

For a moment, you felt actual sympathy for Peter because now you understood how he must be feeling.

Without a second thought, you felt your binder slip out of your hands and once it hit the floor, your notes came out of the binder pocket.

You both took a moment to stare at the papers on the floor but Josh was the first one to bend down and pick some of them up.

You snapped out of your daze and kneeled down in front of him awkwardly as you helped him pick up your notes,” I’m sorry, you just startled me.”

Josh let out a small laugh as he shook his head,” Well, I didn’t mean to scare you. I was hoping to do the opposite actually. I was calling your name earlier but I guess you were too busy talking about...me.”

You pressed your lips together as you tried to avoid his gaze, as if that would help the blush fade away,” Yeah, about that, Kim was just telling me that you were planning to go to some party this weekend. Apparently, your band is playing right?”

You looked over your shoulder to look up at Kim but she was nowhere to be seen. Coward.

“ Amber’s party, yeah,” Josh said as you neatly put your stack of papers into your binder,” I didn’t mean to eavesdrop but were you saying that you aren’t going?”

Your heart skipped a beat as you looked up at Josh and you felt stupid for feeling so nervous around him.

 By all means, you were not in love with him and saying that he was your crush was pushing it a bit.

All you knew was that apparently, Josh had been asking about you and that alone made something inside of you click.

You cleared your throat as you nodded, tearing your eyes away from his,” I mean, I would love to go but I might have plans.”

“ That’s too bad, I was kinda hoping I would see you there,” Josh said quietly, his face slightly flushed,” but don’t worry about it. I’m sure whatever you have going on is more important than just some party.”

You didn’t even realize you were both reaching for the same page of notes until his hand rested against yours for a moment. Your heart stopped as you waited for him to pull his hand away but he kept it on top of yours.

After a few seconds passed, Josh held your hand tightly as he helped you stand up again. He gave your hand one last squeeze before he let his hand fall to the side.

What the hell is happening?

As much as you wanted to go to the party, all you could think about was Peter. You knew that more than ever, he needed you and if your dad needed your help in the lab, you wanted to be there.

Then, as if your mind was telling you to reconsider, it pushed forward the conversation you had with Peter before he made contact with the lovedust.

“ You wasted your whole high school years on never accomplishing anything. You never went to a single party, you never passed your drivers test, and you’ve never even had a boyfriend before.”

A part of you couldn’t even believe Peter would ever say something like that because of how obsessed he is over you. Yet, that memory of Peter was only a few days ago.

You couldn’t just let it all go, you knew he was capable of saying hurtful things and for once, you didn’t want to worry about someone else.

For the first time ever, you were going to be selfish.

“ Maybe I can stop by to say hi or something to listen to your band,” You said as you watched him smile back,” but I can’t promise anything.”

Josh flipped his blazer over his shoulder and smirked,” Too late, I’m already looking forward to seeing you there.”

Josh gave a small wave before walking back over to his friends who were leaned up against the lockers. As you walked away, you felt like a huge weight had been lifted off of your shoulders.

When you got to the front doors, you looked out the windows and watched the rain quietly. Of course, Peter was right.

You had planned to walk to the subway station after school since you knew your dad would be too busy fixing Peter to pick you up but if you would have known it was going to rain, you would’ve asked Kim to take you home.

You opened up the glass doors and held your textbook over your head, thankful for once that Mr. Carter had assigned homework from this mammoth of a book.  As you made your way down the stairs, you spotted a familiar face waiting on the bench in the courtyard with an umbrella.

“ Peter?” You called out as his head snapped up to see you,” what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be in the lab?”

Peter stood up and held the umbrella closer to you so you wouldn’t get wet and rubbed the back of his neck.

“ Your dad and Banner have been running tests on me all morning so they sent me to my room to rest for a bit. But then I saw that you forgot your umbrella and I didn’t want you to walk to the subway in the rain,” Peter said as the two of you shared the umbrella,” so here I am.”

“ You didn’t have to come all this way...but thank you,” You said as the two of you walked out the gates. 

Peter smiled as you interlocked your arms with him to get closer. As the two of you made your way across town, you both exchanged how your day went but when it came to talking about yours,  you purposely left out the part about Josh and the party.

You didn’t know why you would even keep it from him but you just kept telling yourself that what Peter didn’t know, couldn’t hurt him. Plus, if Peter found out about your interaction with Josh, there could be a possibility that he would be on a whole other level of jealousy and frankly, you didn’t have the time.

“ So, I read your note,” You said as you felt Peter tense up beside you,” you said you’d make it up to me and now I’m intrigued. What did you have in mind?”

“ A lot of things, if we’re thinking about someplace romantic there’s this-” Peter stopped himself and shook his head before taking a breath,” sorry. I’m just trying to get better at controlling what I say around you. I was just going to say that there’s this place around the corner that makes really good milkshakes and I thought it would be a nice date- as friends! Just friends. Unless you want to- fuck! I’m sorry Y/N, I’m just going to shut up now.”

You couldn’t stop yourself from letting out a small laugh as Peter shook his head,” You’re such a sap, Parker. It really is never a dull moment with you.”

Peter opened up the diner doors and as soon as you stepped in, you felt like you had been transported back in time.

The floor was sketched in the iconic black and white checkered print and the platinum bar had bright red stools along the outside. 

Just from your spot in the front, you could smell the peppermint disinfectant that they used to wipe down the tables but you were most focused on the jukebox in the corner as a Ritchie Valens song started to play in the background.

“ How did you find this place?” You asked as Peter led you to one of the booths in the corner of the diner.

“ I always knew about it but I figured it wouldn’t be fun without bringing someone along,” Peter admitted as you looked around at the old, decorative records across the wall,” I know how much you like those old movies so I thought it would be nice to take you back to the fun part of the 50s without the, you know, racism.”

You shook your head laughing as you turned your attention to the menu,” Nothing says the 50s like institutionalized racism and systemic oppression of women.”

Once the waitress arrived at the booth, Peter ordered a milkshake for the two of you to share and while you felt yourself falling deeper into the cliche, you couldn’t oppose since he was paying.

When the waitress left, Peter turned back to you and rested his hands on the table nervously. You couldn’t even imagine what he was thinking about but that in itself made you stand up straighter.

“ Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to but I’m just curious,” You asked as Peter nodded enthusiastically.

“ What does the lovedust feel like?” You asked as Peter raised his eyebrow,” I mean, how does it make you feel... about me?”

Peter felt the inside of his mouth dry up as he croaked,” Do you mean- are you asking me what it feels like to be in love with you? Because honestly Y/N,  it feels so weird-”

“ Being in love with me is weird?”

“ Well yeah! Wait no! No, it’s not weird!” Peter stammered as you watched him get more and more nervous,” it’s not weird to love you but my body feels weird around you. My hands are constantly sweaty and clammy and sometimes it’s hard to even focus on small things like breathing. I can’t even shower without thinking of you- not like that- well kinda like that- but every time I have a quiet moment to myself, all my mind wants to think about is you. When your dad was running tests on me this morning, all I could think about was how you two shared the same last name and one day-hopefully-I can change your last name to Parker- okay see I can’t stop what comes out of my mouth when I’m on a roll!”  

As your mind started to break down every sentence he said, the waitress gave Peter a strange look before placing the milkshake in front of the two of you.

“ Wow, okay that was... a lot. You could’ve left out about half of that but I’ll give you a pass because I feel sorry for you,” You admitted as you took the paper wrapping off of the straw and dipped it into your milkshake,” but is there anything else? Like is there any part of you that still hates me? Or is it all gone because of the lovedust?”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows as you leaned over to take a sip,” Hate you? I never hated you Y/N.”

You pulled your lips away from the straw and sat back,” What do you mean you never hated me? I’m pretty sure you hated me, we were so mean to each other. Like our relationship was toxic as hell.”

Peter lightly banged his straw against the table and tore off the paper around the straw without looking at you.

“ I never hated you. Was I a huge dick to you? Of course I was. Was it entertaining watching you air out your room after I left smoke bombs in it before your friends came over? Kinda yeah. But I never did it because I hated you. I would never do those things out of pure malice but...it’s hard for me to look back and imagine us hating each other when I’m head over heels for you now,” Peter sighed as he started playing with the wrappings of the straw.

It was hard to believe that after all this time Peter never hated you because there were countless times for you where you really hated him and planned to murder him in his sleep without a second thought.

“ I’m not going to lie, I hated you. Some days, you made me feel so shitty about myself that I would cry underneath my covers so no one could hear,” You revealed to him as Peter felt a wave of sadness wash over him,” After a while, I wasn’t even sad anymore I was just so exhausted. I felt like I always had to be on my toes around you just in case you would pull something on me and to make sure you would never make me cry again, I knew I would always have to have the upper hand.”

You watched Peter almost sulk back into his seat, his mind swarming with memories of how awful he really was to you,” Y/N, I am so sorry I ever treated you like that. I never knew I made you cry. I know I’m sick with the powder but even if I wasn’t, I would still feel as miserable as I do right now...I’m a monster aren’t I?”

You wanted to be as honest as possible with Peter but in the state that he was in at the moment, you weren’t sure if he was in the right mental headspace to hear any harsh criticism.

“ We were both monsters...but now we’re different. This is the first time in years where I’ve actually enjoyed your company and while I’m not ready to start picking out baby names or whatever you’re trying to do with me, I like what we have. I just hope that when you get cured, things don’t have to change, you know?” You said as you reached across the table and opened up your hand.

You never knew how important starting over was until now and you knew that no matter what, Peter would always be in your life. The only question was what he really meant to you but at this moment, you didn’t have an answer and it was okay.

Peter looked down at it and hesitantly held it, his fingers caressing over your knuckles lightly as he inhaled deeply,” As long as you’re in my life, things don’t have to change.”

You squeezed his hand as you leaned in to take another sip. When you pulled away, you leaned back into your seat as you playfully sighed,” You know, I can’t decide if I’m weirded out or flattered by your comments lately but at the same time, I kinda wanna just open the flood gates and see what kind of crazy stuff you say so I can blackmail you later on.”

Peter only shook his head as his face started to grow flushed,” Y/N, please,  if I could control my mouth, I would. Once I start talking, every single thought in my mind surges with your face and how I feel like how fucking amazing you look in your uniform-”

“ Nope, nuh-uh, we can stop it right there pervert.”

@eridanuswave​ @juliet-winterson​ @akacalumtrash​ @ilovepeterparker13​

@parkerboop​ @juliebean247​ @multi-fan-lover​ @ffffan-----girlll @lukesbabylon​

@danicarosaline​ @parkeret​ @marvel4geeks​ @hollander69​ @spideyyeet​ @spn-assemble-seven​ @vibraniumdaisies​ @spaghetittiesbcimgay​ @vi-bi-bye

@lemonsnips​ @aduky​ @faithfullcompanion​ @stopthemotherfuckingmusic 

@satellitespidey @foreverpark​ @marvelobsessedteenager​ @deadpoetsbackup

@zalladane​ @starcourt-s​ @parkersinfinitywar​ @stargazingcarol​ @littlesugarb​

@itsteph13​ @jennasmmith​ @liljennyx3​ @harryspet​  @todaynotseen @oh-whatabeautiful-parker​  @tiny-friggin-human @ popluckbih    niiight-dreamerrrr     sovereignparker  marie-is-in-the-dark  buckyboy-soldier   maia030   parkershoco  wolverinesbeer   cherrysruin  sunkissdes  kiainspace  songofcosplay  spideylovin  write-from-the-heart  thatcrazywhovian09   eternallyvenus  thollandx msrawog  idiosadeoro  imawkwardandhereweare  foundwolves  thequeen-oni  silverwolf-sama  inspiring-bea  multiversegalaxygirl   lastupidebitchette idekwho1am

[imonthinice]

The Criminal Psychology Majors, Jason Todd x Fem!Reader Part 17/?

Word Count: 3.8k

Author’s Note: Y/N - Your name.

So, when I started this, I didn’t expect it to become what it is, or for it to really be taken seriously. I wrote it because I wanted to get better at storytelling, and now I’m averaging 20 notes a day. That’s insane to me.

Warnings: Eludes to sex, mentions of trauma, mentions of court system, victim blaming, mentions of injuries, swearing, No beta bitch we die like Jason Todd

(Part 1) (Part 2) (Part 3) (Part 4) (Part 5) (Part 6) (Part 7) (Part 8) (Part 9) (Part 10) (Part 11) (Part 12) (Part 13) (Part 14) (Part 15) (Part 16) (Part 17) (Part 18) (Part 19) (Part 20)

Waking up next to Jason was becoming something of a routine for Y/N. It had been 4 days in a row that she woke up next to him or with him in arm’s reach. She loved that about their relationship, how quickly they both could fall asleep with each other.

She rolled over in her bed and realized Jason was sweating and clutching the sheets. She leant over him slightly and turned on the fan, hoping he would sweat less so he could be in less pain.

She didn’t know what would actually stop the pain, she didn’t actually know if he was in pain. She reached out to stroke his back, just trying to comfort him, it seemed to work. He didn’t exactly reject her advances to rub his back. But he did jump a bit when she touched him.

She didn’t want him to be hurt by her touching him, so she did attempt to wake him up. He didn’t answer her though, so she got up from her bed and looked at herself in the mirror. She looked rough like she had been crying all night about the trial. Makeup running, eyes puffy, bloodshot. But what else did she expect after that trial? She didn’t remember anything.

She decided to shower, in her own shower. It had been 3 days since she last showered, which was okay but it wasn’t something she was used to.

She got into her shower and just thought. She was fucked up. She had been fucked up this entire time, she had hidden secrets from Jason, from everyone. She thought it was selfish, immature, and irresponsible that she did that. But she also didn't know how to talk to them all. 

How do I even start that conversation? Hey, I’m fucked up, help me. I’m sorry, I messed up, she thought, I can’t do that, I can’t.

She got out of the shower and glanced at the clock like she would normally, it was 4:00am. That’s new, she thought, I didn’t know it was this early, maybe I should not have showered.

She smiled to herself a bit and took care of her face, doing a facial routine, just trying to calm herself and come off that high she was on for the majority of the day before. She knew she had to take care of herself to help her become stable again.

She knew what she did yesterday was linked to trauma, she just knew it. She didn’t know what it was, or how to combat it. But she knew she would probably not be mentally capable of watching the rest of the trial, and that was okay with her, she didn’t want to watch the rest of the trial. She would ignore her professor if he asked her to write anything about the trial. She knew he likely couldn’t because of her connections, but she wasn’t going to get mad at him.

She didn’t want to get mad at anyone for this. Opinions about the trial, asking her to talk about it, anything, she didn’t want to hate.

Jason was still asleep when she reentered her room. She smiled at him, wishing he was awake with her at that moment. She went to her notes at her desk and sighed, she guessed she would sit down and do some work. She pulled out her journal and wrote;

To each member of my family, somehow we reached here,

I’ve ended up with people wanting to hurt me,

Here we see the pain of there,

Maybe three.

I guess I can’t write poetry,

Maybe it’s all I see,

The pain, the torture, the people who hurt,

What am I doing?

She scribbled down a dying rose. She didn’t know why she did all of that. Normally she didn’t feel like that. Poetry was a good way to get all of the emotions out. Her journal had a lot, a lot, of insane writings and drawings of things she felt.

She guessed she was fucked up. But she thought the things wrong with her would make her art better. She needed therapy, probably. She was going to look into that, she decided in those moments. Therapy may help her cope with a lot of the stuff that she dealt with.

Or was she aware that she’d never be fixed?

----------------------------------------------------

She sat at her desk after making a quick coffee. It was still only 5:00am, and she was organizing her notes, just thinking. Maybe she’d paint something. Maybe she’d get a picture of the Wayne Manor Gardens and paint it. She just wanted something to fiddle with if she was going to be harassed if she left the house. She probably wasn't going to be able to leave the house for a while.

She was fine with that, she didn’t like it but she didn’t hate it either. She just wished for the trial to be over, even if the man was found not guilty of the charges.

And the longer the painting project, the longer she could spend locked away from the media. That was just all that she wanted, to walk away from the media while still keeping Jason.

He was still sleeping. She didn’t notice because she was so entranced in her own art, but he was struggling at that moment.

And then she noticed.

She got up and went to her bed and sat beside his head on the floor. She stroked his hair and tried to comfort him when he woke up.

“Hey,” she whispered.

He didn’t answer.

“You alright?” she asked.

He turned his back to her, so she stroked it.

“It’s okay if you’re not alright, baby,” she said, “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

She crawled into bed with him and became the big spoon for a bit. She didn’t say anything to him, he didn’t say anything to her. He was sticky and sweaty, but she didn’t care.

Silence was killing for most people, but she sat through it and allowed him to be quiet. 

She wished for the stories behind his scars, but she didn’t want to push for them. They hadn’t been together for long enough for her to ask about it. But she loved to trace his scars with her fingers, just letting him know she knew about them. She didn’t know how he felt about it. But she tried to be kind and loving towards his scars.

Some were small holes. Some were small lines. Some were long lines. One was Y-Shaped on his chest. One existed on his cheek and she couldn’t make out what it was. 

She didn’t think that he was lesser because of his scars. He thought he was lesser for his scars.

“Hey, Jay. Do you want to eat breakfast? It’s 6:00am, we can dip to get food?” she asked, trying to make him feel better.

“If you don’t mention the nightmares, sure.”

“I won’t.”

He rolled over to her and smiled before kissing her.

------------------------------------------

They got up a couple hours later, clothes strewn across her room, boxers and pants torn. She laughed, hoping he would still have clothes to wear.

“Don’t laugh, I might have nothing to wear!”

“I hope you have something to wear, babe.”

“And what if I don’t? We were pretty messy.”

“We were, but still. If you have nothing we’re kind of fucked,” she said, glaring.

“Yeah, yeah. You’re cute. Just stop staring at me like that! It takes two to tango!”

“The forbidden horizontal tango,” she said between laughs.

“The forbidden horizontal tango is now  the only way I am going to refer to sex.”

“I mean as you should.”

“My family is going to kill me for calling sex that.”

“I mean as they should,” she laughed, “Did you find clothes?” she asked, having already gotten dressed.

“Okay that’s unfair, you can’t wear new clothes when I’m stuck with ripped boxers.”

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have worn them in the first place,” she said, laughing, “And to be fair, Jay, I’m the one with clothes and you didn’t follow your own suggestion for an overnight bag.”

“Okay, listen, first of all,” he grabbed her, “That’s obviously my fault but shush, secondly, you’re dressing very black today,” he observed.

“Felt I would look the part of dating a Wayne.”

“No one’s going to see you.”

“That’s the point. I’m an invisible partner of a Wayne.”

“Well, I think you look nice.”

“I’m glad,” she laughed, “How ripped are your clothes?”

“Decently. Not noticeably, but decently.”

“Fun! Shall we go?”

He laughed and grabbed her arm, pulling her lightly to the car and getting in to drive. 

“You ever think the vigilantes around here have complex lives?” she thought aloud.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, do they have crazy, fulfilling lives like us, or are they just there to be heroes of the night? Are they sitting there wondering if they’re going to come home to their partners or if their parents are worried about them?” she questioned.

He sat there, looking forward. If only you knew. If only you knew what I go through, what everyone goes through. He managed to laugh and blow her off, “Maybe they’re just robots made to fight crooks in alleyways.”

“I’m serious. What if they’re all out there worried they’re going to die?”

“C’mon now.”

“Jay! They’re people!”

“They’re probably okay, baby. I doubt they’re out there almost dying.”

She wanted to say ‘You almost died’ but she bit her tongue, “That’s probably true. But it’s always something I thought, even when I lied in Metropolis with god damn Superman. I always wondered if he had a home to go to.”

“Who knows. Who knows.”

“They would. Maybe I should get a job as a reporter, interview some of them. Say ‘Fuck it’ and know if they have homes.”

“That’s dangerous.”

“How?”

“My Aunt, Iris, Barry’s wife? She’s a reporter. She’s on the frontlines for the supervillains and the small-time crooks of the world.”

“So anything and everything in between? Festive.”

“Well, that’s the life of a reporter. Journalists? Like my Uncle? He deals with a lot less bullshit unless they link him to Bruce. Iris is a reporter so she’s constantly there, Clark is usually never there.”

“Well, we at least know the elusive reporter and journalist have families,” she joked and he laughed.

“The elusive reporter and journalist in their natural habitats, my favourite National Geographic episode.”

She looked out her window at the streets and the people. She hadn’t been outside at night recently on the streets of Gotham, and she missed it. There was always something about it that made her keep coming back. Maybe it was the orphaned kids that she would go and make sure were okay. Maybe it was the fact that she watched one of the vigilantes swing to another roof.

She still remembered that moment well. She thought it was amazing, a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for her to have experienced. She wished she knew more, even if she just knew which one they were. So she could go on the forums and ask if people had spoken to them. Maybe it wasn’t a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, maybe others had witnessed what she did, but she wouldn’t know if she did not know which it was.

“Hey, random question, do you know the vigilantes' names in the city?” she asked Jason.

“Uh, yeah? Why?” he responded.

“Okay so, the first night I walked home from your house after my car got towed right? I saw one of them. I’m not familiar with the vigilantes of the city, so: Do you know which one is the one with the blue bird symbol on their chest?”

“Oh, that one’s Nightwing. He seems cool, I don’t know, never actually met the guy.”

“Don’t Wayne Galas get attacked by villains on the regular though?”

“That doesn’t mean we get to talk to them,” he laughed, “It would be cool if we did, though.”

“Yeah it would. Would be a killer story for your Uncle and Aunt.”

“They are the only tabloids I liked because they leave us alone.”

“No reports from the Daily Planet about the Waynes?” she joked.

“God, Dad would probably half-jokingly sue Clark over that. Like sue him for 3 dollars or somethin’ levels of jokingly suing him.”

“Now, that, that would be a story for the tabloids.”

“Remind me to tell Dad about that, maybe it’ll get the press off your back.”

“You say that like your extended family cares about my trials.”

“They do, they wonder how you found yourself wrapped up in 2 crimes in the span of 2 weeks.”

“I wish I knew how I did that.”

He laughed, “If only we knew.”

“I guess we go get breakfast now, fast food?” he asked.

“Obviously, I’m not eating in a restaurant with this high of a profile recently, my god,” she laughed.

“Alright, anything in particular? I can just order for you if you’re not up to talking to some people.”

“Go for it.”

“Alright.”

She didn’t pay attention while he ordered, instead she opened her lovely cellphone. And there they were, the tabloids click baiting the trials she was involved in. She rolled her eyes, knowing most of them were wrong, when she saw the article written by Clark Kent about it. She was tempted to read it, to know what Clark said. She figured he’d be an unbiased source fo information, but also likely more on her side than the defendant’s side. She didn’t even know the defendant's name.

She tapped on it and began reading.

The Case of The Court Versus David Brown.

Brown is a man known to the courts of Gotham, and the county jail of Gotham. When he was accused of assaulting a young woman, Ms. Y/N (Last name), not many members of the Gotham Police Force were shocked.

On the first day of the trial, Brown was asked to plead, to which he said, “Not guilty, your honor,” which is under a lot of scrutiny of those who have seen the video of Ms. (Last name) running from Brown in the alleyway where she head-butted him.

The prosecution opened their case,

“Ms. (Last name) was assaulted by the defendant, there is no question about it. The question here is if his motive was for the ransom Ms. (Last name) referenced in her interview with police after the event. The defendant very clearly went after Ms. (Last name) because of her ties to the billionaire Bruce Wayne, who would have easily paid the ransom for her if she hadn’t escaped.

The defense opened their case,

The question of whether or not my client assaulted Ms. (Last name) is not up for debate, he did assault her. However, it was in self-defense. She had assaulted him first, pulling him into the alleyway and attempting to make advances on him. She twisted the story in her on words to include the head-butting incident, in reality, my client punched her for her advances.

The people who watched the first event of the trial have noted being “Disgusted” and “Annoyed” at the practices that the defense brought to court, “Slandering the name of Ms. (Last name) when she is the victim.” many people are upset with the defense in this trial.

The next day of the trial should take place within a week. Until then, the questions are not going to be answered.

She looked at the defense's argument numerous times. She was in shock that they would accuse her of such bullshit. She was terrified that they would get away with this, when Jason pulled her out of her thoughts with a coffee.

“You shouldn’t get so involved in the tabloids right now, love.”

“Sorry, if it makes you feel better your Uncle wrote it. And thank you.”

“Anytime. I guess Clark wrote it well, but you watched the trial?”

“I don’t remember it.”

“You’re probably not going to watch more of it, are you?”

‘No way,” she said while drinking her coffee as they drove back to her house.

“That’s fair. No one expected you to be able to be able ot watch it.”

She nodded and kept drinking, “They made up so much bullshit.”

“They did, oh my god, I was pissed, baby. I was so god damn mad. Because what the fuck do you gain from lying?”

“Don’t even put that question in the universe, you know they’ll try to answer it the next time they’re in trial.”

“God you’re right,” he laughed, “Got you a breakfast sandwich. At least the dammed tabloids can’t take that away from us.”

“Thank god,” she laughed, “Thank you.”

“Seriously, anytime. It’s worth it.”

“You’ve spent so much money on me.”

“Pocket change.”

“Well, duh. Trust-fund baby.”

“Ouch.”

“I’ll take you somewhere when I’m less high-profile. Maybe we’ll fake a breakup to keep everyone off my ass so we can go somewhere.”

“Fake a breakup? Wouldn't that just make you hated?”

“I’m already hated. I’m a gold-digger, a whore, a cheater, a statistic, a suicidal maniac, a homicidal maniac, a psychopath, I can go on and on about the shit being said about me.”

“Man, people need to keep their mouths shut.”

“You could say that again- don’t actually. But like, what the fuck did I do to deserve this, honestly? All I did was go on a date with you to get bombarded, yes, I do treat the press unfairly, but I do my best to never say a bad word about them publically, just jokes,” she joked, “I hate this,” she laughed.

“I hate tihs too,” he laughed, “You’re worth it though.”

“Oh man, a week into dating, two weeks into knowing each other and we’re here.”

“We should be anywhere else but in the midst of these terrible circumstances.”

“It’s unfortunate.”

---------------------------

Drinking her coffee on her bed with Jason beside her was something else, it was probably the most they had branched out in 4 days. The silence was lovely now that neither of them were having issues. They ate and drank in silence. They didn’t need constant conversation to prove that the enjoyed the presence of each other. 

She took a minute to take it all in, the messy shelves in her bedroom, the place on her desk where her laptop belonged, the broken handle to her bathroom door, the sheets on her bed which had been pulled and ruffled from Jason and her having fun. 

She looked out her window and looked at the rain starting to pour and decided to cuddle closer to Jason. He was warm but had a presence of underwhelming coldness to him, like he gave off fake body heat. She didn’t know what it was, but the extremes of his body were something she enjoyed but hated.

The exposition between his black hair to his white tuff of hair, the rough eyebrows to the small and delicate freckles, the blue of his eyes which seemed to glow green. The way it was like she was driving down a road, full speed ahead, and crashed into a wall, that was how it felt to be with Jason.

But who doesn’t love to die in a fiery accident into a wall at 500mph?

She laughed internally at her own joke about him before grabbing his hand and yanking him into the living room and past her roommate, A/N. A/N did not question it, because there was a new life to her roommate recently.

She dragged him out into the rain, to which he protested.

“What the fuck, respectfully?”

She laughed, “Don’t be respectful, and trust me. I’m going to make a movie moment.”

“I’m getting wet.”

“That’s my job,” she joked as she turned on a slow song before going to Jason and dancing with him.

“Well, can’t say I’ve done this,” he said.

“I don’t think most couples do.”

“Then why are we?” he asked

“Uh, yolo? You only live once, might as well dance in the rain with one of your lovers?” she retorted.

“One of them? Am I not the only one?”

“Oh no, you are,” she laughed, “But who knows, maybe we’ll fuck monogamy up the ass,” she joked.

“Probably not.”

“Probably not.”

And they danced for a few hours. Twirling and dipping in the rain. Watching the clothes they were wearing get more and more wet until the the white parts of Y/N’s dress were see-through, which took a while considering how small they were. 

Their hair was soaked and her makeup was running but they didn’t care. They were having fun, and no one was going to stop them, not a villain, not a vigilante, no one. He would wipe away her makeup since it was basically already off her face and laugh.

“Your makeup looked nice before we came out here.”

“I bet! The rain’s probably washing it all way, did I look like I was crying?”

“You looked like you were sobbing.”

She laughed, “You love to see it, you really do.”

The music was basically drowned out by the rain. It was on her phone, so it was probably water damaged from the rain, but no one cared. They just wanted to have fun.

But the dancing got tired because of the fact that Y/N was in heels, so she went and picked up her phone. It wasn’t damaged. She looked at her recent texts while Jason tugged her lightly to the bathroom, to see that Bruce Wayne, Jason’s dad, had paid off her car and it was being driven back to her house.

“Hey baby?”

“Y/N?”

“Did you tell your dad to pay off my car?”

“Oh, yeah. I figured it’d get impounded and my dad could just wait a while for you to pay back. It getting impounded was going to cost you more money.”

“God you're right and I hate that.”

He laughed and kissed her before turning on the shower.

--------------------------------------------

That was the second time that day that they had had sex. It was impressive that they had had sex that many times, and that many rounds. They thought it was fun as all hell to have sex whenever they had the chance.

Maybe they were saying “Suck it” to Bruce, or maybe they were just having fun. Maybe it was both.

“You look so cute with my hand around your neck,” he said behind her before lightly grabbing her neck and pulling her head back to his chest. He buried his face in her shoulder.

“He says while looking down,” she joked.

“I’ll squeeze.”

“Jay, we just showered. C’mon. Keep it in your pants.”

He groaned, “No fun,” he tilted his head into the crook of her neck and started leaving little kisses.

“Jay, C’mon.”

He sighed, “Fine. Fine, fine, fine. I guess we can stop,” he jokingly-whined at her, “At least we can kiss.”

“That’s true, but get dressed.”

“Get dressed!” he whined to her, “In this economy!”

“God dammnit,” she laughed, “Stay naked then and I’ll eat your food.”

“Don’t you dare.”

[mermaidssonshipss]

hells kitchen angel

warnings: smut… pure filth. (also unprotected sex which is bad. no no. wrap it before you tap it!)

pairings: rudy pankow x reader

word count: 3.5k

inspired by “hells kitchen angel” by max (dead ass heard the word kitchen and was like... hm. anyways read and this will make sense lmao.)

The club was tinted red, the lights from above causing the sweat on your skin to glow scarlet. Your body was scantily clad in a shiny black dress that dipped down your breasts tantalizingly low, the skin on your back completely exposed, a small strip of fabric covering your ass.

You looked sinful.

Rudy’s eyes had been glued to you since you’d walked out of Maddie’s apartment, the both of you giggling at something she’d said as you squeezed into the car you and the cast were sharing. It was Friday, they’d finished the first week of filming Season 2 of Outer Banks, and they wanted to celebrate. You’d joined the cast this season, quickly blending in with their dynamic once you let them get to know you. Of course, at first, you were nervous as hell, worried that you wouldn’t fit in, or you’d mess up the dynamic they’d already created. You all showed up a month before filming began to do table reads and get back into the swing of things, and you’d been timid, keeping to yourself and only really speaking when spoken to, until about a week into being there. Rudy had shown up at your designated apartment for filming and invited you over to his. The other cast members were coming over to drink and fuck around, and they wanted you there. After that night, you had finally loosened up, and they all fell in love with you.

“You’re drooling.” Chase taunted, clapping his hand down on Rudy’s shoulder, causing the blonde to jump slightly at the sudden impact.

“Look at her.” Rudy simply replied, his gaze remaining on your body. You were on the dance floor, a few drinks in your system, and you were dancing with both Madelyn and Madison, your body in-between both of the girls, your hips all moving together. Your hands were in your hair, pulling the sweaty locks out of your face, and your eyes were closed, enjoying the alcohol running through your veins.

“Well, I’m gonna go butt-in and snatch up my girl, while you continue to sit here and just stare like an idiot instead of actually making a move on one that could be your girl.” Chase knocked the last few sips of his drink back before placing the glass on the table and pushing himself onto his feet, moving through the crowd and to Madelyn, snatching her away as you and Madison sent “boo’s” his way.

For the past month, Rudy had been absolutely infatuated with you. Once you’d started hanging out, you two discovered you had very similar taste in music and cinema, so you were always sneaking into each others apartments to show one another new songs, or some new movie you had stumbled upon. You had always been frustratingly oblivious when it came to men hitting on you, or just showing any form of interest in you, so you hadn’t caught on to the very obvious hints Rudy had been sending you. When one of the other girls would mention it, you’d laugh it off and tell them they were being silly, quickly dropping the subject.

Rudy had looked away for less than 30 seconds as he followed Chase’s steps and knocked back his own drink, but when his blue eyes fell on you again, some random dude was now behind you. You were very clearly trying to remove yourself from his prying hands, and even Madison was telling the dude to fuck off, but he wouldn’t listen. The two of you were both considerably smaller than him, and Rudy noticed a flash of pain cross your face as the guys hands dug into your hips, trying to drag you off the dance floor despite Madison beginning to yell at him while you slapped at his hands. Rudy was quick to get up and makes his way over to the two of you, his hands pushing into the mans shoulders causing his grip around you to loosen. You were quick to pull away and move your body behind Rudy.

“I suggest you back off, dude.” Rudy spoke lowly, winding his arm around your waist as you gripped onto his forearm. 

“Or what?” the creep shot back, crossing his arms over his chest, his gaze glued to your face.

Before Rudy could respond, Chase, Jonathon, Austin, and Drew were at his side, all of them wearing glares. The man standing before them looked between each of them before letting out a huff and walking away. 

“Thank you.” you whispered into Rudy’s ear, placing a soft kiss on his cheek before saying thank you to the others, who all nodded and saluted you before going back to where they’d been before they’d seen the altercation. 

You’d had enough dancing for the night after that, a pout on your face as you walked back to the empty table that had been reserved for the cast. You plopped yourself down on the large couch, crossing your legs as you looked over the crowd. Madelyn and Madison were now back to dancing with one another, and the other boys were also dancing around them, now keeping a close eye on the girls. Rudy was nowhere to be seen though, until suddenly he was sitting down next to you on the couch.

“You okay?” He asked, his voice full of concern, and you smiled at him brightly.

“ Of course. Not the first time it’s happened, won’t be the last. Probably my fault anyway for wearing this dress. Still very annoying, though.” You replied with a shrug, letting out a soft laugh. Rudy had scrunched his nose up now, his eyebrows furrowed as he shook his head.

“It’s not your fault. You’re allowed to wear whatever the hell you want. Shouldn’t have to worry about pervy men touching you. Plus, you look amazing in that dress. Personally, I’d wear it every chance I had if I was you.” He was confident as he spoke, the alcohol pushing him to be slightly more forward with his flirting. Still, it flew right over your head.

“Let’s go back to my place,” Rudy spoke after a moment of comfortable silence between the two of you, both of you just looking out at the crowd, bored of the club, “We can listen to this new album I found.”

“I’m in.” Your response was immediate as you grabbed your purse and pulled your phone out, quickly requesting a Lyft for both Rudy and you. He’d grabbed your hand, helping you up from the couch, and the both of you let the others know you were heading out before moving to the street to wait for your car. 

You shivered slightly, the South Carolina air becoming entirely too comfortable with your bare skin as it wrapped its way around you. Without saying anything, Rudy stood behind you, pressing his chest against your back as he wrapped his arms around you, protecting your exposed skin from the cold. You were quick to lean into his hold, sending him a soft smile over your shoulder.

The two of you were quiet as you waited for the car to pull up, both of you too into your own thoughts to speak. His arms were crossed around your chest, his hands on your arms as he ran them up and down your soft skin to warm them up, and you were thankful for the cold disguising the fact that the goosebumps were from his touch. 

When the car pulled up, you reluctantly pulled away, hurrying into the car with Rudy right behind you. 

“No funny business.” was the first thing the driver said as he looked at the two of you in his rearview mirror. He was an older man, and there was the ghost of a smile on his face as he said the words.

“Yes sir!” You saluted, locking your arms at your side and Rudy let out a loud laugh.

“Wasn’t you I was worried about.” He laughed back, giving Rudy a pointed look before pulling out onto the road. Rudy’s cheeks tinted red as you laughed even harder, and he sent you a glare as he shushed you. 

Before you knew it, you were pulling up to the apartment complex and climbing out of the car, Rudy waiting with his hand held out. You slipped your small hand into his, the two of you walking up to his apartment.

The first thing you did when he pushed the door open was rip your heels off, tossing them underneath the bench he had by the front door before moving across the hardwood floor quickly and jumped on the couch. 

“Comfy?” Rudy asked, a smirk on his face as you laid across the couch, your arms spread out so one was holding onto the top of the couch and the other was hanging off towards the floor. You’d been decent enough to cross your legs, but that didn’t stop his eyes from trailing along the expanse of the exposed skin. You just sent him a smile and he laughed, moving into the kitchen after he pushed his own shoes off and under the bench next to your heels. It had become a routine for the two of you to drink a cup of decaf coffee at night whenever you showed one another new music. You leaned up on your elbows for a moment, watching him move around the kitchen. He would look over at you every few seconds and send you a shy smile, but your gaze never wavered. Eventually, you got up once again and walked to the kitchen, pulling your body up onto the counter.

“You look good in the kitchen, Pankow. You should become a chef.” You spoke after a moment, causing him to look over his shoulder at you as he shook his head and chuckled. 

“I should become a chef just because I look good in the kitchen? What if I can’t actually... I don’t know... cook?” He was leaning against the counter opposite you now, his arms crossed across his chest as he raised an eyebrow at you. You could hear the coffee brewing behind him quietly.

“Who cares. Ask a girl on a date, start cooking for her, and I can guarantee you won’t even have to finish cooking, she’ll jump you before you can. Solid. Fool proof plan. Trust me, I’m a girl. I know.” You weren’t really thinking much as you spoke, you just knew you were comfortable enough with Rudy to make comments about him like that without feeling awkward about it. 

“Is that so?” He had a smirk on his face now, and he was pushing himself off the counter, moving himself closer to you. As he approached you, he placed his hands on the exposed skin of your thighs, and you were hyper aware of the fact that your dress had ridden up against the counter, dangerously close to showing off your barely there underwear.

You hummed in response, nodding your head as you watched him closely. The air around you two suddenly felt hot, and his hands were moving higher up your thighs, moving to the sides as his fingertips just barely moved underneath your dress. Your own hands were currently clenching onto the countertops for dear life, your knuckles turning white at the force of your grip.

“Can I count on that working on you?” his voice was almost a whisper, and his hips had nudged between your thighs, spreading them so he could fit his body between them.

“Yes.” your response sounded breathless, and you were trying your hardest not to clench your thighs around Rudy’s waist. You could already feel yourself growing wetter as his chest pushed into yours, and you were so desperate you were about to grind down onto the counter. 

He continued to look down at you, watching your chest as it rose and fell quickly, his fingertips sliding even further under your dress, pushing it up as he gripped onto the skin, harshly pulling your body so it was closer to the edge of the counter. Your clothed center was harshly pressed against the growing bulge in his pants, and you couldn’t hold in the whimper that escaped at the feeling against your clit. Your hands had moved from the counter and were now wound around his neck as you pushed your body even closer to him, hovering your lips over his.

“Rudy...” You whispered his name, a pleading tone laced throughout the simple name. You closed your eyes as you began to rock your hips into him, a satisfied moan escaping his lips before he finally pushed them against yours.

The second his lips met yours, both of you knew you were fucked: both metaphorically, and, in moments, literally. His hands were quick to tug your dress up your waist all the way, leaving your pantie clad bottom against the now warm countertop. Your fingers were fiddling with the buttons on the striped button-down shirt he’d worn tonight, getting irritated with the tiny buttons before you decided to just yank on the fabric and hope it would come undone. It did. Your hands were all over his chest as he pulled away from the kiss and you let out a whine that soon turned into a moan as his lips attached to your neck, sucking on the skin till it felt tender. He pushed the fabric covering your center to the side, swiping a finger between your folds and he bit down on your neck softly as he felt how wet you were.

“So wet for me, pretty girl. S’all for me, isn’t it?” he mumbled against your skin, and you could feel a smirk on his lips. He didn’t give you time to respond though, shoving two fingers inside of your dripping hole causing you to gasp out his name. At the feeling, you leaned back on the counter, your hands resting behind you to hold your body weight up as you pushed your hips into his fingers, your eyes glued on the digits pounding into you. 

With his free hand, Rudy gripped the fabric of your dress that had bunched up under your breasts and proceeded to tug it over your head, tossing it across the kitchen. Immediately one of your hands palmed your own breast, pinching the now hard nipple between your fingers as he watched, his normally bright blue eyes almost black. The pace he was working on your cunt had increased rapidly, his thumb now rubbing figure 8′s over your swollen and throbbing bundle of nerves. He could tell by the whimpers and gasps of breath you were letting out, you were close. Without much thought, he dropped to his knees, keeping his fingers buried inside of your tight cunt as his eyes watched you, his lips latching onto your clit and sucking on the bundle. Your back arched, your hips rising off the counter slightly at the pressure against your button. In moments, you were cumming around his fingers as he refused to let up his pace, his mouth continuing to work over your clit until he could feel your legs shaking against his shoulders as you whimpered breathlessly. 

Rudy pulled away, his thumb collecting your juices that had spread across his chin as he sucked it into his mouth. He was painfully hard, his cock straining against his jeans, but he wasn’t going to push it any further if that wasn’t what you wanted. But, as you forced yourself to sit up, your shaking fingers popping the button of his jeans open, he realized you also wanted more.

“You sure?” his voice was husky as it spoke, the thought of finally getting to fuck you almost overwhelming him. You responded by simply tugging his jeans down as well as his boxers, your feet pushing them down his legs. His cock slapped against your thigh, your small fingers wrapping around it as you ran your thumb across the tip, collecting the pre-cum that had already leaked out.

“Want you in my mouth.” you stated, and he was sure he almost burst right there.

“Not right now, babygirl. Wanna feel you wrapped around me and I won’t make it if you put your lips on me first.” he spoke honestly, grunting softly as you pumped him slowly, looking up at him through your eyelashes as you sent him a smirk. Your leg pushed against his back, causing him to stumble into you more as you hung off the counter, guiding his cock through your wet folds. Both of you shuttered at the feeling, and Rudy’s hands landed on your hips, gripping them tightly as you guided the tip of him inside of you slowly. You were teasing him now, repeatedly guiding his tip inside of you before pulling it out and running it down your folds, until he’d had enough. Removing his hands from your hips, he grabbed yours, pinning them to the counter as he finally thrusted the entirety of his length inside of you, both of you letting out loud moans at the feeling. Your walls clenched around him, and you could feel him throbbing inside of you. Your head fell forward, resting on his shoulder as he pulled back, almost entirely removing himself from you before he began to piston his hips into yours, his cock pounding into you as fast as his hips would allow. He was still pinning your hands to the countertop, his fingers intertwining with yours against the surface.

“So fucking tight.” he spoke through gritted teeth, his hips stuttering slightly as your walls clenched around him, “Been dreaming of this since I first fucking saw you.” He mumbled, and you waited for him to end the sentence with “in that dress tonight” but it never came. You realized then that he’d been so obvious about how he felt about you, all of the subtle flirting now making sense, and you felt stupid, though you didn’t have much time to think about it as you moved your hips with his pace, your thoughts fogging over.

He slowed down slightly, dragging his cock through your walls slowly, and you shuddered against his body as you felt every ridge and vein on his cock brushing against you. When he picked up his pace again, angling his hips up slightly, you cried out his name, signaling that he had hit your g-spot. Your teeth bit down on the flesh of his shoulder, your fingers squeezing his in your hands as he continued at the same angle, his cock hitting your g-spot with each thrust. 

“M’gonna cum.” you whimpered against his shoulder, and he finally let your hands go, allowing you to wrap them around his back as you dug your fingernails into the skin, dragging them down and surely leaving scratches in their wake. One of his hands was now on your lower back, pushing against you so you arched into him even more, the other moving between you two as he found your clit once again. 

“Let go, baby.” he whispered into your ear, continuing at the same pace until he felt your body convulsing against his, your walls clenching around his cock so tightly it caused his own hips to stutter as he too let go, the warmth of his cum coating your walls. 

The both of you were completely fucked out and sweaty, hanging onto each other for a moment as you both tried to catch your breath. He pulled out of you slowly, causing you to groan at the emptiness you felt without him inside of you, and you could feel the mix of you two that had been inside of you now trailing down your thighs and onto the countertop.

“Sorry..” you mumbled, your cheeks tinted red as you noticed his eyes glued to your dripping center. He snapped his eyes up to yours quickly, shaking his head.

“That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” he replied, and you smiled shyly as his gaze trailed along your body, taking the sight of you in.

Rudy wrapped his arms around you, pulling your legs around his waist as he lifted you off the counter and proceeded to carry you into the bedroom, tossing you onto his bed before crawling on top of you. 

“We’ll listen to the album later.” he stated, and you were confused for a moment until you remembered he had said in the club that’s what you two were coming back here to do.

“Think you brought me here under false pretenses, Pankow.” you quipped as he rested his body weight on yours gently, your arms now wrapping around his neck once again.

“You’re the one who made the comment about me looking good in the kitchen!” he defended, but there was a smile on his lips as he placed soft kisses around your jawline.

“It was an innocent comment! I just said make a girl dinner, and she’ll be all over you!”

“Yeah, but you’re the only girl I’d wanna make dinner for.” he replied simply, causing your heart to stutter as he gently grazed his lips across yours.

“Well, you didn’t even have to make me dinner... think I was dinner tonight, actually.” you were holding in a laugh, but as Rudy leaned his head on your shoulder, letting out the loudest laugh you’d ever heard from him, you gave in, both of you gripping onto one another as you placed soft kisses all over each others faces, your laughs filling the room.

[aj28gaming]

Nagito's dementia and misuse of information

CAN PEOPLE STOP TRYING TO USE FRONTOTEMPORAL DEMENTIA SYMPTOMS TO EXPLAIN HIM?

.

What I mean is, yes he has dementia or is at least diagnosed with it

And I believe that he probably does actually have dementia (not saying he could've lied tho but he could've still been misdiagnosed)

But that doesn't mean he has all of the symptoms

.

I don't think we can confirm if he does or doesn't have dementia because he might just not have all of the symptoms

But I do know that using the symptoms to explain his character isn't a good idea especially since it usually undermines who he actually is

.

So stop using his dementia as a way to explain EVERYTHING HE DOES AND IS

He doesn't even have all the symptoms and is close to having almost none of them

Using a mental illness to explain a character's entire character is a bad idea and makes it seem like it's who they are entirely

Yes Nagito is diagnosed with dementia however that isn't who he is entirely

He is a complicated character with a lot of layers

And his illnesses definitely don't make up ALL OF HIS LAYERS AND CHARACTER

.

Okay now, let me explain

(These are a combination of all of the symptoms of Frontotemporal dementia that I have gathered)

.

(I AM NOT TRYING TO PROVE HE DOESN'T HAVE DEMENTIA BECAUSE HE MIGHT STILL HAVE IT, I'M JUST TRYING TO POINT OUT WHY USING THE SYMPTOMS TO EXPLAIN EVERYTHING HE DOES IS A BAD THING)

.

Now onto the symptoms:

.

Behavior and/or dramatic personality changes, such as swearing, stealing, increased interest in sex, or a deterioration in personal hygiene habits

- No, and no not even when the killing game started. Yeah sure he laughs now, but that's no different from how he is normally since laughing for him is what he does when he gets surprised or stressed. He doesn't change much in the killing game, he still believes in hope and everyone else, still respects boundaries, still have crazy high intellect and empathy, still pushes people away

.

Socially inappropriate, impulsive, or repetitive behaviors

- not really, again the guy is a freaking gentleman even during the killing game. He respects boundaries, reprimands Teruteru for sexual assault during chapter 1, pushes people away and distances himself from others, isn't at all impulsive (usually quite the opposite really), and is usually planning and tries to remain calm and composed throughout the killing game (struggling tho cuz yeah killing game)

.

Impaired judgment

- here, I kinda disagree. I wouldn't say that Nagito is entirely in the right with everything he does, but I understand his views. The guy knows that no one is truly a bad person in the killing game because everyone was forced into it. He knows that even the blackened escapes and everyone dies, it isn't fully a bad thing because that means someone escapes and goes back home to their loved ones while the killing game ends

If a blackened succeeds, the despair would be of course everyone else dying and the blackened going through a lot of trauma, but the hope would be the end of the killing game and the blackened going home or to their loved ones or to their goal in life or whatever

If the blackened dies, the despair would obviously be the blackened dying and the killing game still continuing, while the hope would be everyone else still alive

Nagito isn't exactly wrong in wanting to help the blackened as well, of course, Nagito would want him himself to be the victim so another person gets a chance at escape and no one else would be the victim

Sadly for Nagito, that time never comes

Nagito doesn't want others to be killed, he wants to sacrifice himself instead as the victim instead of everyone else

.

Apathy

- .....big no. Nonononono. The dude is anything but apathetic.

"Apathy is a lack of feeling, emotion, interest, or concern about something."

Seriously, being a dude who is constantly supportive of everyone and their hopes in life and how passionate this dude gets about hope and despair, and the fact that he is the most stressed 24/7 about something bad happening due to his luck, this guy is seriously anything but apathetic

.

Lack of empathy

- No. If the guy truly lack empathy he wouldn't need to use Hope desperately as a coping mechanism, wouldn't care about the ultimates and their hopes and despairs, wouldn't constantly be thinking about helping the ultimates and overcoming despair, wouldn't be the most stressed out of everyone, and definitely wouldn't be in love with Hajime or even act the way he did in chapter 1

.

Decreased self-awareness

- You don't actually understand why you act the way you do. A good indicator that you lack self-awareness deals with how well you understand your emotions, actions, and behavior. People who lack self-awareness often feel constantly off-kilter, anxious, or angry.

This is not Nagito at all. The guy understands his emotions and behaviors which is why he is able to do the things he does and is able to conduct plans based on how much he understands his own self and capabilities. The guy is actually the most self-aware out of everyone, he knows about how people don't understand him and constantly misunderstand him and his intentions, he is aware constantly of his inability sometimes to properly explain his goals to people.

The guy has a lot of self-awareness and isn't afraid to take responsibility for his actions. Actually, it's because of how self-aware he is of his own self and his destructive luck cycle that he constantly blames himself for anything bad that happens.

The guy is seriously self-aware as hell and it's scary sometimes

.

Loss of interest in normal daily activities

- Nope, he hasn't shown any sign of apathy towards anything and is usually pretty hyped about doing daily activities. He is paranoid though on the daily because he fears for what his luck cycle might do

.

Emotional withdrawal from others

- Emotional withdrawal involves bottling up your emotions. It involves cutting out the people who could help us, because we're so used to rejection that we've learned to anticipate it. Because we've learned to disconnect from others, we develop other unhealthy coping mechanisms

Emotional withdrawal is defined as pulling back emotionally or physically by bottling up your feelings or disconnecting from others. Emotional withdrawal can be far more complex at times. It is comparable to a breakup, in every way but physical.

Kind of? Yes, he pushes people away, but he is still willing to spend time with people, especially Hajime, when they really insist. He politely pushes people away, but he isn't opposed to hanging out with people either though it is sometimes rare

.

Loss of energy and motivation

- .... I already said it before, the guy is full of motivation and energy and passion that it is scary sometimes

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Inability to use or understand language; this may include difficulty naming objects, expressing words, or understanding the meanings of words

-.....WHY IS THIS HERE? THE GUY IN THE JAPANESE DUB CONSTANTLY FLEXES HIS DAMN ENGLISH VOCABULARY DESPITE IT BEING A JAPANESE DUB

AND THE FUCKING ENGLISH WORDS HE USES ARE FANCY AND HIGH LEVEL AS FUCK THAT I FEEL SMART JUST READING THEM

.

Hesitation when speaking

- Definite no, the guy isn't afraid to voice his own opinions and never hesitates and can get very vocal about the things he is passionate about

.

Less frequent speech

- Again, definite hell no. I wouldn't be surprised if his voice lines are longer than the voice lines of everyone else combined

.

Distractibility

- Nope. The guy is focused on his goals constantly. No matter what he does, you can always be sure that it is for a certain goal. He pisses of Fuyuhiko? It was to get a reaction from him to confirm his suspicions about the true culprit. He lied about the rope? It was to see how Mikan would react and how the trial would go to confirm his suspicions about Mikan being the culprit?

The guy is focused like a damn soldier

.

Trouble planning and organizing

-.....do I seriously need to explain? This is Nagito we are talking about

.

Frequent mood changes

- Not really. He usually acts or reacts a certain way because something happened like someone died or something. He is actually pretty normal with how he acts and reacts and doesn't really change his mood rapidly that much

.

Agitation

- Yes and no? Sure the guy gets paranoid 24/7, but is still somewhat more chill than agitated to an extent. He is easy going and is just paranoid about what his luck would do, he is vigilant but not necessarily agitated

.

Increasing dependence

- No. The guy is independent to a fault and only relies on others when his plans call for it. He also usually does things of his own accord and rarely with a partner unless he really needs to or his goal is to help that person specifically, which knowing him is a usual thing

.

Unwillingness to talk

- Again, no. The guy talks a lot and while he pushes others away, he wouldn't turn down a conversation if the other person wanted one

.

Lack of inhibition or lack of social tact

- Again, no. The guy is a gentleman and respects boundaries and definitely gets stressed especially in the killing game. The guy is also paranoid 24/7 on a normal day due to his luck cycle

.

Obsessive or repetitive behavior, such as compulsively shaving or collecting items

- No? Sure he clings to hope but that is more of a coping mechanism. If he isn't in a stressful situation like a killing game he doesn't get that obsessive as much about hope since he doesn't need to desperately cling to it as a coping mechanism

.

Unusual verbal, physical or sexual behavior

- No? He isn't at all like this. It isn't unusual to panic or use a coping mechanism desperately when in a situation like a killing game, and he doesn't do anything unusual like this when it's a normal day. Sure the guy gets paranoid, but that's it

.

Weight gain due to dramatic overeating

- No? Actually, I don't really know how much weight he gains to be honest so idk

.

.

.

My main point here is, yes there is a chance Nagito does actually have dementia, but using the symptoms as a way to explain his character undermines who he actually is and can cause a lot of misunderstandings of his character

Especially since I remember being told that they only added in dementia to his character backstory a little late during his character development and creation

It isn't a good idea to use his symptoms because it usually gets his character wrong and sometimes makes them excuse a lot of the things he has done

The guy is self-aware, isn't socially inept, is a gentleman, and socially intelligent as hell

.

And again

Stop using his dementia as a way to explain EVERYTHING HE DOES AND IS

He doesn't even have all the symptoms and is close to having almost none of them

Using a mental illness to explain a character's entire character is a bad idea and makes it seem like it's who they are entirely

Yes Nagito is diagnosed with dementia however that isn't who he is entirely

He is a complicated character with a lot of layers

And his illnesses definitely don't make up ALL OF HIS LAYERS AND CHARACTER

.

.

.

[closedafterdark]

could you write a smut for choerry

"Was I a good girl today, oppa?"

You looked to your left and saw the bright woman next to you, Choi Yerim. You were both sitting in the backseat of a taxi on the way back to your apartment. You were slightly nervous, it was the first time you brought anyone over since you moved. This would be Yerim’s second night in a row she was staying at your place. The both of you are heading there after a relaxing dinner and a movie.

Yerim’s mood wasn’t her usual bright and chipper - she responded to your attempts of conversational talk with one word answers or having a constant scowl on her face. You noticed people passing by quietly asking each other why she looked so uptight. The truth was you didn’t fuck Yerim like she wanted you to. She was in the middle of sucking your balls the previous night when you told her you were going to bed after she made you cum. Yerim did not take kindly to that, yelling very loudly that she wanted to get dicked down. This morning you found yourself in your bed alone, your morning wood as erect as ever since Yerim wanted to give you the silent treatment. You didn’t mind though, Yerim always acted like a spoiled brat whenever you denied her sex.

“Yes you were, honey” you said as you flashed an extremely weak smile. Yerim’s smile was beautiful, it melted all of your worries away when you saw her look at you lovingly. You weren’t afraid to admit you were whipped for her, most of your day wanting to center around her. There were some days where you felt like a potato standing next to such a beauty.

The streetlights were not working in your favor, constantly turning from green to red after only allowing a few cars to pass. The driver didn’t care what went on in the back seat, yelling about how his wife doesn’t let him do what he wants so he’s stuck driving strangers around. You wore Yerim’s bag as she handed it to you before you two entered the taxi. She traced her finger along the leather strap before roughly gripping onto it and pulling you close to her. She blew hot breaths of air into your ear before speaking.

“Are you going to fuck me until I can’t walk?” she whispered in such a sexy tone that the hairs on the back of your neck stood up. She pulled on the leather strap even harder as she licked your ear.

“Oppa needs to punish his bad girl. Fuck me so hard the neighbors will call security about noise complaints”

Thankfully, the taxi arrived outside your apartment less than ten minutes later. You were afraid Yerim was going to yank your pants off from how horny she was. You paid for the taxi and closed the door shut. As the driver sped off, both of you entered the main lobby of the apartment complex before heading into the elevator. Yerim’s naughty hands couldn’t keep themselves off you, having already unzipped your jeans and unbuttoned your shirt.

As you kept trying to prevent her hands from continuing any further you hurriedly enter the passcode to your apartment. Yerim squeals with excitement as you both enter. She kicks off her shoes and runs into the living room. You managed to luck out and have a rent controlled apartment: two bedrooms, living room, large kitchen and two bathrooms. The second bedroom was still empty besides a desk and bed, not that it mattered since you lived alone.

“I need to pee” she groaned as she hurriedly ran to the guest bathroom. She wore a formal casual outfit on your date: a newspaper printed blazer paired with a loose tie worn on top of a thin spaghetti strap top which outline her wonderful breasts nicely. She complimented them with a pair of white shorts. You would’ve preferred her wearing skintight blue jeans, but knew she’d be even more furious from the previous night’s denial. Her brown hair flowed messily down as you loved her tint of lipstick and eyeshadow she chose today. She had the perfect balance of seductive and sweet.

You put her bag away on the kitchen countertop. You removed your button up shirt and socks. You head back to the living room and hear the sound of the toilet being flushed. Yerim runs towards you instantly and jumps into your arms. They instinctively held onto her now exposed bottom as she wrapped her legs around you. She wrapped her arms around your neck as she began kissing you. Her tongue parted your lips as she hungrily bit on your lower lip. Your tongue fought back in response as both of you wanted control. Yerim deepened the kiss as one of your hands caressed the back of her head. Her breasts pressed against your chest as you tried your best to quell her insatiable lust.

“You didn’t even kiss me in the taxi, oppa” she said in between your kisses. One thing you loved about Yerim was she enjoyed giving extremely wet kisses, thin strings of saliva often connecting your mouths together. What people didn’t know about Yerim was her sweet face was a mask for how she acted in the bedroom. The more spit, the better.

“The driver was watching. It’s not my fault you wanted to give me a blowjob in the backseat” you said teasingly as your lips gripped onto her neck and began to suck gently. She moaned loudly as you tightened your hold, sucking the skin as hard as you could. You parted her from her when you saw a small mark form. Yerim’s voice was always so erotic, it never took you long to have an erection around her.

“You’re making me so hard” you said to her coolly once your lips parted her neck.

“You’re so bad” she replied. “That certainly isn’t because of me”

Yerim gave you a deep, long kiss as she hopped off your body. Your jeans and boxers flew onto the couch as she kneeled down before you, using one of the throw pillows as a cushion. You always found her butt cute, jiggling as Yerim gave you a blowjob. You looked on in delight as she took you halfway into her mouth. She certainly knew how to give head, the pleasure beginning to overload your body as your knees buckled. She flattened her tongue and ran it on the underside of your shaft, long licks starting from base to tip. The moment Yerim took you fully in her mouth you felt your cock be drenched. The feeling was almost unbearable, she had never given you a blowjob like this before.

“Oh shit, that’s a good girl” you say, running your hands through her freshly dyed hair. You heard loud squelching sounds. You looked down and saw Yerim was fingering herself, her leaking pussy dripping onto the hardwood floors. You laughed, she had a lot of pent up sexual frustration from not getting fucked the night before.

Yerim teased you, releasing your cock every time you felt you were going to cum. She would stroke you as she took your balls into her mouth individually. Her airtight suction on them caused you to moan loudly. After your cock was thoroughly drenched, she stroked it a few times before slapping her hollow cheeks with them. She moaned as she felt the saliva cling onto them. Yerim loved any form of sex she could get.

Yerim loved being in control whenever she gave you blowjobs, this however was not going to be one of those moments. She secretly loved being dominated. You grabbed her beautiful brown hair and formed a makeshift ponytail. You dictated the pace at which she sucked your cock, making her bob up and down to a rhythm you chose. You loved hearing Yerim gag because of your cock, her muted screams of pleasure unable to be loudly heard. After releasing her sloppy mouth, she began to catch her breath as you lifted up her tired body and pushed her onto the bed. She giggled as you jumped on top of her and gave her a kiss. She unhooked her bra and tossed it on the floor. You grabbed onto her beautiful thighs, massaging them as you slowly spread her slender legs apart.

“Look at how wet you are already. This isn’t very ladylike” you quietly hummed as you parted her beautiful pink lips. Yerim liked to keep herself cleanly shaved, you told her it tickled whenever it would brush against your nose.

You traced the juices that were beginning to leak out of her and popped them into your mouth. She always tasted so sweet. You loved when she was wet for you. You rubbed both lips for a bit to tease her before inserting your middle finger slowly inside her. Yerim let out a loud moan as your finger entered and exited her. Her body began to move with your finger, her screams getting louder every time you inserted another finger. Your left hand massaged her breasts, extremely soft and just large enough for you to squeeze. You played with her erecting nipples, loving how they caused her to moan.

“Holy fuck... oppa... Your fingers are so wonderful” Yerim shyly moaned, as she occasionally put a hand over her mouth in order to prevent your neighbors from hearing. You didn’t want to deny such a pretty girl her wish, so you continued to finger her. Her painfully tight walls wrapped themselves around you. You removed your other hand from her breast and used it to part her lips even more. Your thumb ran circles around her clitoris. Yerim let out her loudest screams of the night. Her entire body was twitching, wanting more. You held her legs in place as she stretched her neck out. She was enjoying being pleasured by you.

“Oh, fuck!” she screamed as your three fingers pulled out of her, just in time as her orgasm arrived. Yerim was a squirter, and tonight was no different. Her juices stained the bedsheets, your thighs and stomach, some of it even managed to hit the mirror across your room. Her body began heaving as her orgasm winded down. You teased her even more by giving her still wet pussy a deep kiss.

Yerim was thoroughly wet for you. Now that you prepared her, it was time for the real thing. You spread her legs once more as your tip hit her entrance several times. She moaned as you gave her a satisfied smirk. Her eyes were weak, pleading for you to enter her already.

“Good girls deserve to be punished. By being fucked until they can’t walk the next day” you said as you entered her love cavern. Both of you moaned in satisfaction, you closed your eyes as inch by inch penetrated her. She was extremely wet from her orgasm, allowing for easy entrance. You inserted yourself halfway before pulling out. Yerim yelped in surprise when you immediately inserted yourself fully inside. She closed her eyes and let out loud moans as you began to fuck her. You stopped a few times, trying to establish a rhythm good enough for the both of you. You listened to her moans, trying to find which one was the loudest. Her voice gradually increased in volume as you became rougher.

Yerim’s extremely pink pussy was beginning to be explored by your red tip. Each thrust made you want to go deeper and deeper. Your hands held onto her hips for support so that you could pound her to your heart’s content. Yerim’s screams filled the quiet room and complimented the squelchy sounds your bodies were making. You wanted her to look at you, but her eyes remained close a majority of the time. You couldn’t blame her though, the feeling was euphoric for both of you. Yerim loved being a bottom, she found it sexy whenever you took control.

“Fuck, you’re so tight!” you said as one of your hands slapped her breast. She let out a moan as her eyes finally opened. She looked at you weakly as you continued roughly fucking her.

“Keep fucking me! Just like that... oh fuck, you feel so good” she screamed, as you slapped her breast again. She was so ladylike whenever you two were in public, most people would be surprised at how much she loved dirty talking in the bedroom.

“Pound this bad girl’s slutty pussy! Fuck me like the slut I am!”

Hearing her dirty talk ignited a newfound drive in you, welling inside your body. She never thought of herself that way literally, but knew you both were turned on whenever she said such vulgar things. Your hips rocked back and forth as she felt you stretching her out. Your hands now held onto her neck as you softly began to choke her.

“Look at wet oppa’s slut is!” you moaned as your sweat dripped onto her milky white body. You felt your release fast approaching.

“I love when you fuck me like I’m some cheap whore, oppa!” Yerim screamed as she smiled naughtily at you. “A whore who deserves to be punished by her master”

Your stamina was beginning to deplete as you felt your limit approaching. You thrusted into her several more times roughly before she gripped onto your waist and pushed you deep inside her. Your load sprayed deep inside her, spreading all over her warm and wet walls. Both of you moaned in ecstasy as your head throbbed inside her, releasing until you felt there was nothing left to give. Both of you panted deeply as she grabbed your face and gave you a tender kiss. You pulled your cock out of her, Yerim moaning as her bright red freshly fucked pussy began to leak out your white present.

One load was never enough for a slut like Yerim. It was now nighttime as your phone on the nightstand began to ring. You raised your head just high enough to see who it was from. Jeon Heejin.

“Heejin’s probably wondering where you are” you said, as you were currently inside Yerim. She was currently on all fours on your bed, her soft ass rippling every time it came into contact with your stomach. You doubt she heard or even cared what you were saying as she was too horny while being fucked. You smacked one of her cheeks loudly, causing her to yelp from the stinging pain.

“Hi, Heejin” you said, slapping Yerim’s ass once more.

“Oppa!” Heejin was a cute girl you met one day who introduced you to Yerim. You were close to her and her friend, Kim Hyunjin.

“Oppa, are you busy? The girls want you to come over for drinks!”

“Right now?” you asked as you began to think of excuses of why you’d be late. You couldn’t just say you were currently inside their friend.

“I, uh...”

“Wait, are you fucking Yerim?” she asked you suddenly. You were surprised, how did she know? The call went silent as both of you heard the squelching sounds coming from Yerim’s wet pussy. Yerim’s unique voice could be heard even through her erotic moans.

“You are fucking her! No wonder she’s not here with us right now” Heejin teased. “What position are you fucking her in?”

You sighed. You certainly didn’t expect Heejin to be so vulgar or smart about knowing Yerim’s whereabouts.

“She’s being fucked doggy” you said as you slapped Yerim’s ass once more. She let out a loud moan as you continued fucking her.

“That sounds so hot, oppa! I want to be fucked like that by you too!” Heejin said cheerfully.

“Yerim’s getting fucked? I want to get fucked by oppa! Oppa, it’s Sooyoung! Why haven’t you fucked me yet?”

Amidst the complaints from the girls about whose turn was it to have sex with you first, you groaned as Yerim began to fuck herself onto you.

“We’ll be there in a few hours” you quietly moaned to Heejin.

“Wait, no! It’s okay! I’ll just come over and feel that hard cock pound my pussy!” Heejin said.

Yerim’s walls began to constrict your cock, squeezing tightly. You knew she was about to cum soon. You powered on, your own orgasm soon approaching. You slapped her ass as Yerim began to scream.

“So it’s settled! I’m coming over to get some dick” Heejin said, not caring that she was listening to another woman get fucked by you. “We’re almost done here anyways, how does 10 sou-”

“I’m cumming, Yerim” you groaned as you put your phone on speaker and dropped it on the bed.

You pulled out of Yerim as she got on her stomach and took your cock inside her mouth. Several bobs were all that it took as you pushed her head down and released. You groaned loudly as her walls were painted with your white present, mirroring what occurred hours ago. You slapped your cock on her tongue a few times as she crinkled her eyes. You watched as she tilted her head up and saw your load travel down her throat. She took your tip inside her mouth a few more times to clean up the last remaining traces of cum.

“Oh fuck...” you moaned.

“That was pretty hot, oppa. Did you make her swallow?”

You forgot you were still on a call with Heejin. Knowing her, she put it on speaker for all to hear.

“Yeah...” you weakly responded.

“No, you can’t come over! The only thing coming here is oppa inside my mouth and pussy!” Yerim yelled.

“You’re not the only slut who likes cum!” Heejin yelled back as she ended the call.

You laid on your bed, exhausted. Yerim was back on her stomach as she took your slowly erecting cock back into her mouth. She gave soft kisses on your tip before sucking sensually. You stared at her beautiful big eyes and smiled.

“If Heejin’s coming over, I better drain as much as I can from you” she said as she slapped your shaft on her cheeks.

“You know Heejin’s my girlfriend, right?” You said as you stroked Yerim’s head softly.

“Yeah, but I give better head than her” Yerim replied as she licked your tip, cleaning off your precum.

“Well...”

She shot a mock angry look at you.

“I’m just teasing. Although Hyejoo’s bust is looking big these days” you said.

“Well then... I’ll just have to show you why those two losers don’t compare to me” Yerim said as she stroked your cock several times before climbing onto your lap.

“By the time Heejin arrives, you won’t even remember her name. This cock is mine” she said in a cute voice as you both moaned from Yerim lowering herself onto you.

It was going to be a long, cum filled night.

[blindedbythedarkness]

Josh,

We need to talk about what you did. About the fact you took your own life. I've been waiting for the perfect moment ever since that day to talk about it, but I don't think it's every gonna come. Right now, I'm as ready as I'll ever be and my need to say these things is growing. It's been tugging me towards this conversation for months now.

So, Josh, let's face it head on. You killed yourself. You threw yourself off that walkway with the sole intent to end your life, and you succeeded, albeit with it a short delay. I just want to make it clear, right now, that I don't blame you for what you did. However, that doesn't mean I don't get angry sometimes.

I wish I knew why you did it. I wish I knew exactly what was running through your head in the weeks, days, hours beforehand. I suppose I can imagine a lot of it, though. I don't think much of it would shock me, I suppose I just wish I'd known so in some Other Life I could have talked to you about every one of those thoughts. I guess on a wider scale too, I have some ideas about what caused your depression and kept it going strong. The things you told us about your upbringing and family would certainly seemed to play a big part in the value you saw in yourself. The lack of support from uni probably made your future options seem very bleak indeed. But the exact reasons are probably far more complex and intertwined and have gone with you to your grave.

What I really wish I knew is what happened that day. I'm not on a witch hunt, but the story I've heard makes it sound as though there were one thousand, tiny, missed opportunities to stop you. What I know is that you had an exam that day, an exam you hadn't revised for. In the middle of that exam you had one of your strange fainting fits. I'm not sure if you continued the exam after that, but it can probably be assumed that the rest didn't go well, even if the first half had done. After that, you took yourself up to the fifth floor of the maths and stats building; you pushed a chair up against the barrier and you wrote your brief, final message to the world on your hand. Then, at around 11:05am that morning, you climbed over the barrier and let go. The rest, as they say, is history.

I lost count of the number of times we told you to go to the doctor about those fainting spells. "If there's something wrong with me, I'd rather not know", you'd say. Then you'd follow it up with a story about how your dad had gone decades without a GP visit. We suggested to B one time that she should withhold sex until you agreed, but she just laughed that she couldn't wait that long. Those fainting spells were strange things. I remember you having one at the top of the stairs once. You were lying there, eyes open, but unable to speak or move. I remember feebly trying to maneuver you into the recovery position, unsure of what else I could do and feeling helpless as I stood over your body. Looking back, I don't think you were fainting. I think they were seizures, likely caused by the extreme stress you were under. I didn't know that was possible at the time, but it seems the signs you weren't coping were staring us in the face.

With this in mind, it makes sense this would happen in the middle of an exam you hadn't revised for. But that also makes me question your state of mind after it happened. The stress alone would probably warp your thinking, and if it was a seizure you had, you brain would have been even more fried. I'm not trying to minimize what you did or imply that you didn't mean it. I fully believe that you wanted to die. But the method you used implies a snap decision as opposed to a planned approach. A moment of weakness in a lifetime of fighting your own brain. It wasn't your fault, you fought so fucking hard for so long. But somehow it breaks my heart more to think it was a spur of the moment decision, potentially added to by a fried brain. You wanted to die, but the lack of plan makes me think a small part of your heart wasn't in it. In another life you could have got past that moment, yet in this reality that part of you was never allowed to grow and flourish. Your poor, tired brain had a moment of weakness and dragged your body down with it, permanently.

I have questions about the whole thing that I'll probably never know the answers to. For example, I wonder what the fuck you were doing alone after becoming unconscious in an exam? People were obviously aware it happened, otherwise we would never have been told. And yet you were just allowed to wander off alone soon after. Did someone try to help and you lied and told them you were fine? Is there someone out there forever blaming themself for believing that you were okay? Or did no one give a fuck? Were they all too self absorbed for your wellbeing to truly matter to them? Did staff stop caring as soon as the exam ended and they were off the clock? Just how did you end up alone, suicidal, five stories high right after publicly collapsing, Josh? I wish to God I knew.

I have other questions too, of course. More general ones that you could probably guess. Like, what stopped you talking to us? Why did you choose to jump instead of sending me a text? What was your last thought? Were you in any pain as you died? Who was the last person to see you properly alive? Did you think of us, of me, before you did it? And is there any reality in which I could have stopped you?

Truth be told, Josh, if I had another chance at that day I still wouldn't know how to change things. Of course I would have tried harder to talk to you about how you were feeling, but I still wouldn't know exactly what to say. Most of all, it seems, you were afraid of failing uni and nothing I could have said would have changed that. Sure, I would much rather have a living uni-dropout friend than a dead one who never technically failed. But it wasn't about what I was okay with, it was about how you felt and the million reasons you felt that way. Simply put, if I could do that day again, I feel like I would need to be by your side for the entire duration to change the outcome. And even then, I would be afraid what the next day would bring.

You were in a terrible fucking place, Josh. I fully understand that. I mean, I will never know the details of your personal mental nightmare, but having lived my own and come close to ending it myself, I feel like I can say I get it. Even now, on bad days, I think of you and just think "I get it." Your depression, a severe and chronic condition, killed you. Just like cancer and strokes and heart attacks kill. It hijacked your brain and the control of your body, just as cancer cells invade and blood clots starve the brain of oxygen. You had just as much choice in the matter as patients of any physical illness. I will never blame you Josh, I promise. It was never your fault.

But, like I say, that doesn't mean I don't get fucking angry. When it first happened the anger was constant and it took all my energy just to stop it boiling over. Now, it comes and goes. I feel angry that you did it. Despite all I know, the part of my brain that reacts impulsively wants to scream that "you're a fucking idiot!", "you're so selfish!" and "how the fuck could you do this to us?!". Of course, when I think about it more I remember that none of that is true. You just wanted to end the pain, you never intended to cause ours. But I have to be honest that those thoughts do always creep back in. It's very easy to be angry that you chose the solution that would never allow it all to get better. It's so permanent, Josh. It's so horribly, painfully permanent.

I just wish I could go back in time, to way before the day you died, and plant the seeds for you to think it okay to talk to friends. To think it okay to drop out of uni. To think it okay to ask for help. I wish so badly I could help the Josh you were before I even met you.

Thank you for letting me finally get this off my chest, Josh. Fuck, I had been holding onto that for so long. So fucking long.

I love and miss you so, so much.

C

[lyriumknight]

I'm probably gonna delete this by tomorrow after my therapist appointment. I'm just emotionally unwell at this time and need a place to document that I'm not crazy and just unwell.

A lot of things have happened and I just don't know how to handle them anymore; I'm very tired, I'm very upset, I don't really want to be alive but that's neither here nor there.

My partner of 5 years couldn't handle being called out on their bullshit. Because of this we're no longer together, they are getting their things out of the house, and I'm in a situation where I only did one thing wrong and I already apologized for it. I've never been the best at people's emotions and I probably never will be which is why I spend $200 a fucking month for therapy, but in all fairness this isn't how this should have ended because it was really not my fault.

My partner and I have been in an open relationship for most of our relationship, his roommate didn't like the fact that we were in that kind of relationship and had been pestering him about it for better part of a year. Even going so far as to tell him that they are lying and that hes not taking my feelings into account.

Which isn't true and we all have our own preferences, but she couldn't be told otherwise.

My partner had talked to me about possibly the next time she brought it up shutting it down and doing what the situation there and then.. The problem is that I wasn't prepared for this fight to happen at a bar when the 2 of them got loud at each other and there was really nothing that I can do about it. I asked them to please reconsider having the fight there and that we could discuss the space at the apartment, but they talked over me and so eventually I got upset with the situation. I got loud I too started yelling started yelling and I was told that I was a liar that I was lying to my partner and that I had changed my feelings and I hadn't told them, which couldn't be farther from the truth I just wanted private matters to be kept private. They asked that I go outside with them in order to talk about our relationship, but unfortunately I knew that it was only to yell at me more about not standing up for myself when in reality I had made the request that we talked about it at home and neither one of them could accept it.

I was disrespected and I wasn't going to continue to allow it to happen so I declined and when he got loud with me again accusing me of not loving him and not wanting the relationship to be as it was. I slammed my fist on the table, I knocked over a drink, and he accused me of being a child. Which I admit knocking stuff over like that probably wasn't the best, but unfortunately he pushed me into my emotional limit which is something that, again, I've been working on. His roommate actually called him out on that, but he didn't think that he had any sort of responsibility towards it because I couldn't control my emotions. He called one of his friends to come pick him up and he left the bar left the bar and you spent all night drinking at another bar.

The following morning he came home, and when we were able to we spoke about what happened. I brought up how I felt disrespected by the both of them and I didn't understand why he couldn't respect the fact that wasn't the time or the place. He told me that life was messy but tbut then continued to put me down for trying to take control of the situation where I was the one in the middle of it. I again got upset because he wasn't understanding what exactly I was telling him and so I got loud and started yelling. I told him that he was acting like a child throwing a tantrum because I couldn't do what he asked in the moment that he asked because I was uncomfortable doing it around many people who I was unfamiliar with in a space that isn't my space.

They've been with me for 5 years and he knows that's just how I am as a person and there's nothing that he can do to change that and therapy is proven that I have every right to ask that we have conversations in private. Especially conversations of that nature.

He made a decision to leave and tell me that he is gonna go to sleep on his friend's couch for the rest of the weekend. His roommate is my friend as well and so I vented to her about the situation I told her about all of the things that hes done, all the things that hes told me, an I asked her to keep them in confidence but apparently that wasn't enough. She had to go and open her mouth and go back to him and tell him tell him everything that I had told her in which he proceeded to call me a liar.

I haven't lied about things in a very long time, I used to lie about things because it was the only way that I could survive with the environment that I was raised in.

But it's hard to forget when someone talks about you in front of their friends; saying that you're only good for sex, that you're only good if you want your dick sucked, and that no one would love you because of the way you are. Shit like that you don't forget, you don't forget if you say it and you don't forget if you hear it. The only way you forget something like that is if you have brain damage or you just don't care that much about the other person.

Again we are no longer together as of Sunday, where they told me that they were sick and tired of fighting despite the fact that they instigate a lot of the fights that we have based on their behavior, I blame a lot of it on the AHD that hes diagnosed for and is unmedicated for. But hes also a narcissist because of the ADHD that he's both unmedicated for and medically diagnosed for.

My friend and his roommate has a victim complex a mile wide , and she blames a lot of it alanxiety that she's diagnosed for and again unmedicated.

At this point I've cut them both out because that's really the only thing that I can do, because of that I lose about 80% of my real life friend group. It sucks though because the roommate's husband's a nice guy and is actually friendly as opposed to her.

If either of them find this post, when I doubt they will, I want you both to know that at this point there's nothing that you can do because there's nothing that I can do. Sorry I failed to make you both happy at the same time.

And this is the end of my very long monolog about how my life is shit and there's no longer anything that I can do about it.

[cheezritsu]

Atsumu Miya || Unravelling

[Uhn•rav•uhl] verb, informal. to take apart; undo; destroy

Warnings: implied sex, mentions of sex, quick depiction of self harming behaviors (not explicit.) Inspired by SZA’s Supermodel

It must be considered deviant and demonic how the constant the thud thud THUD! Rings out with an even pace in the hallway of Tokyo’s finest apartment complexes. If it weren’t for the fact that calling the police would no doubt result in a press field day none of the residents of Park Mansion Akasaka wanted, someone would have filed a noise complaint. It’s a shame they did not—perhaps there might be a certain clout that comes with exposing MSBY setter Miya Atsumu’s intimate life, but it would also have saved time, money, and tears in the long run.

But, the residents of the 9th floor could not see into the future. They were instead, attempting to mind their business and not be bothered by Miya trying to make back beats by fucking someone into a mattress.

That little comparison was Osamu’s first scathing critique, until he froze completely. The disgust melted into horror as he turned his head to his companion.

“Hey-,” he starts, but as he catches the expression, the words dry up.

Yes, it would have been nicer—no, merciful—if the residents of the 9th floor had called the police when this happened, if only to spare you from witnessing it yourself.

Your hands get so clammy, the plastic bag in your hand nearly slips out. You catch yourself before the beer bottles can shatter on the marble floor that costs more than your entire block. It’s an easy clean up, but it would probably be very sticky, and disastrous, you think. Almost as disastrous as—

It starts up again, rhythmic and constant like an orchestrated performance. You and Osamu are mere steps outside the apartment, and you can hear the manic, frayed screams coming from the walls. It sounds like they’re in pain; just the way Atsumu likes it.

“Y/N,” Osamu tries once again to get your attention. The pity in his voice is unmistakable, and you hate that of all the emotions the usually stoic twin shows you, this is the one he’s chosen. Pity. Sympathy.

“Guess that’s why he didn’t pick up the phone,” you remark casually, refusing to look Osamu in the eye. “I’ll just leave it by his door with a note.”

Osamu says your name, this time with a firm edge that demands attention. You don’t give it to him. You’re too busy trying not to actively throw the takeout and beer you bought out of your measly paycheck to help your friend (attachment, entanglement, dick appointment, are all better words than friend) feel better after a crushing defeat at the hands of the Saitama Spears. (Crushing, like his hands must be around her neck for the moans to sound so strangled.) No matter, you say to yourself, hands shaking as you send him a text. Something cute and sweet with a properly sickening amount of heart emojis, like any good (not quite) girlfriend would do. Whatever it takes.

Ignoring how the click of your heels mesh with the steady thrum of Atsumu’s two thousand yen headboard against his 100 million yen walls, you march back the exact way you came; down the white, sterile hallway and passed the doors that housed the rest of the 9th floor, who would, unknowingly, pay for the mistake of not asking the shameless Atsumu Miya to please, please keep his fucking at a tolerable volume. Fame and infamy come with perks, one supposes, but they also come with karma.

You’re not thinking of revenge, though. You’re wondering how you’ll make it to the elevator without completely coming apart at the seams. Something in you unravels, much like it might if Atsumu were playing you like the fool you were; perfectly manicured setter hands curling, scratching, plucking at all the right places. No, this unravelling is much slower, much more painful, as if the single thread that creates your existence is being snipped in half. When you push the call button for the elevator, you think the thread is severed completely, because you have to lean your head on the cold steel to steady yourself.

Osamu’s approaching footsteps really only register in the very depths of your mind. The heavy breathing doesn’t really sound like yours—how could it be anyways, when you were miles away from your body, floating in the ether like a ghost; forgotten, discarded, alone. Untethered.

You lift your head up only to bang it against the wall. The soft thud is reminiscent of the moment that just transpired, and you—subconsciously, like you were possessed—start bashing your forehead to the same piledriver waltz Atsumu had played.

“Y/N!” Pity. Bang! Worry. Bang! Sympathy. Bang! Could you crush your skull this way? The mystery woman’s screams tangle in your brain like an earworm, the salacious sounds on repeat. Bang!

When Osamu’s hand lands on your shoulders, it feels like he’s tethered your soul back into your body. You wrench yourself out of his grip.

“Don’t!-” you begin to scream, but you catch the look he gives you. His grey-brown eyes are wet with concern, darting between the growing red spot on your forehead to the watery snarl on your lips. You take a shuddering breath to keep the hysteria from bubbling into your tone. “Don’t touch me. I’m fine.”

Osamu doesn’t even raise an eyebrow in pretence. His mask of neutrality and sarcasm is completely gone, replaced with anger. “You were banging your head into the wall like a patient in a psych ward.”

“That’s unnecessarily stereotypical, Osamu. I thought you were better than that.”

Crossed arms. He’s seconds away from blowing his lid. “Yer not funny.”

You wonder what would happen if Osamu blanked on you in here. Would these good-for-nothing neighbors actually call the police then? What a headline: Miya twins apprehended in two separate noise complaints. Kita would probably stop sending Osamu rice out of embarrassment.

You don’t want to fight Osamu anyways. It’s not his fault that the bearer of his face is fucking another girl as you speak.

The elevator dings, and you step inside. It’s fortunately empty. Osamu stands right next to you, hovering like an overprotective parent. The chrome doors of the elevator slide shut and you’re face to face with your own reflection: hollow, sunken eyes the most expensive concealer can’t fix; posture hunched from years of slaving over work and school; nails short and busted from part time jobs that barely pay the bills. Nails that have been raked down the chiseled, marble back of a man who didn’t belong to you, and never did.

Her nails were probably nicer. Probably manicured. Maybe he paid for it. You can’t even see your nails anymore, because your head is in your hands, shielding your ugly cries from Osamu, who bears the face of the man who doesn’t love you.

“I should have just taken the fucking hint,” you sniffle, wiping the running eyeliner from the corner of your eye. “Shoulda left him alone.”

Osamu just hums. You wished it was anyone else but him. Osamu isn’t bad at a lot of things, but comfort was one of them. He just stares vacantly at the doors, a grimace replacing his usual thin lipped look, but other than that he appears unbothered.

And then, like he’s reading condolences off a list, he says: “I’m sorry.”

The words in their sincerity sound foreign on his tongue. With one big sniff you pull the thread keeping you together tightly, gathering yourself. “What’re you apologising for? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sorry my brother is a complete piece of shit.”

“Well, we both knew that, didn’t we.”

Osamu can’t place what he dislikes about that phrase, but the elevator interrupts his thought process. The doors open to reveal one of the security guards eying you two up and down. His eyes narrow for a moment on Osamu’s face, and then dip down to yours.

“There a problem here, Miya-san?”

On any other day he might have pulled a fast one on this guard, but you promptly walk out of the elevator, leaving Osamu to follow your lead wordlessly. The world outside the Park Mansion Akasaka is still turning, still bustling with people catching trains home from work, their patent leather shoes from office jobs clicking on the sidewalk to a rhythm you can’t match. The thud of the salarymen’s briefcases hitting their legs echo like the headboard off Atsumu’s walls. It’s everywhere, everywhere, and your insides churn sickeningly.

You stop, one hand leaning against the glass. Osamu catches up, hands halting just before they reach your back. “Stop running away from me, name,” he says softly, exasperated. “I’m trying to help.”

“How long.”

Osamu blinks. “What?”

You’re nearly doubled over with nausea, your free hand pressed flat against your chest to keep your lungs compressing. “How long has he been with her?”

“I don’t know.”

“I swear to god, if you’re lying to me-“

“(Name) I would never do that to you.”

The promise doesn’t reassure you. Osamu runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this is a lot to take in right now. And I’m not going to say anything—“

“Like what?” You look at him over your shoulder, eyes squinted in malice. “Like I told you so?”

Your insolence is wearing out Osamu’s sliver of empathy. You’re unbearable like this, you know that, and Osamu is less tolerable than most. “Your words, not mine.”

“Your brother is cheating on me.”

“You’re not together.”

“There it is!” You let your head fall back in rumbling, humorless laughter. “I was waiting for that.”

“I don’t want to be a dick right now.”

“Too late, ‘Samu.” You haul yourself up, buttoning the front of your coat. “Go home, work on your winter menu. I’ll be fine.”

The statement is met with rightful skepticism, but when you start to walk away, Osamu doesn’t follow. You can’t decide whether or not this hurts, because the all encompassing pain finally registers to the rest of your body. You try to numb yourself, dissociating as every step towards home becomes a blur. Akasaka’s beautiful lights and towers fade into lesser Tokyo’s decrepit neighborhoods, with sketchy alleys and dimly lit streets. Your apartment complex is a shoebox to Atsumu’s tower residence, and it feels just as claustrophobic when you step into your crowded, tiny apartment.

It’s nicer than what your friends can afford, but that doesn’t make it any better. Your couch is also your bed, and your desk faces the window even though you can’t properly study this way. The kitchen is perpetually clean because you can’t cook anything in it. You’re sure the fridge is empty, but it’s fine, because you simply peel off your clothing and curl into a ball on your bed.

It’s not even late. You have work and assignments to do, but as you check the time on your phone, you’re immediately taken to your camera roll, where a picture from several days ago stares back at you mockingly.

It’s from his bathroom, the one that has a television screen by the bathtub, the one with hotel lighting that makes you look glowy and ethereal no matter what. You’re half dressed, in the middle of putting on your morning skincare when Atsumu comes up behind you, arms around your waist. Your face is obscured, but you remember how happy and loved you felt to have his lips pressed against your temple, the heat of his body in your side. How surrounded and safe and warm you felt.

But moments are as fleeting and fragile as glass. The illusion has been shattered, and you’re left in a cocoon of blankets nowhere near as satisfactory as his body heat, in a dark and dingy apartment you will probably stay in for the rest of your life.

Just as you’re about to set your alarm for the morning, a notification pops up. The sparkles around his name indicate that Atsumu has finally, finally texted you back.

✨T’sumu✨: sorry I missed you babe I was not in a good place

✨T’sumu✨: you got work tmrrw? You always know how to cheer me up

It’s as if your heart has been snatched out of your rib cage; your chest hollows and collapses as a sob hiccups in your throat. Something wet slides across your temple. It’s not Atsumu’s lips, not even close. You wipe the tears with the back of your hand, and throw your phone across the room.

It shatters.

[charmingturkeysandwich]

fireworks (that went off too soon)

Hey there! This is a CS one shot. An AU in which Killian is the lead singer and songwriter in a band that sounds suspiciously like Fall Out Boy...

Summary: Emma and Killian were friends in college, but haven’t spoken in 9 years. Killian’s band’s new single changes everything.

Words: 4400ish

Rating: Teen? (Swearing, References to Sex)

Also on AO3

Big thanks to @awkwardnessandbaseball​ for reading this over, correcting all my dumbass mistakes, and helping me polish this up pretty :) (The title comes from my favorite Fall Out Boy song, Fourth of July. It’s heavily featured in the story sung by Killian’s band.)

---

It was 3pm on Friday the 13th – also a Full Moon – when Emma Swan finally had the meltdown she’d pressed “pause” on about nine years earlier.

(Nine years, three months, more accurately, but who was counting?)

The work week was winding down. The get this done today or be fired tasks had been completed and all the emails had been answered and it was about time to start doing the bare minimum to run down the clock to 5:01 when she could, without regret, run screaming from the building and put her god forsaken job out of her mind for two days of rest, relaxation, and rum.

(Definitely the rum. Or maybe it had been upgraded to a tequila weekend.)

It was Pandora’s fault, really. (A fitting name for opening up an emotional box inside her soul that had been sealed for quite a long time and with very good fucking reason.)

Usually Emma listened to wordless music – movie scores, Vitamin String Quartet and the like – so as to keep the creative juices flowing without breaking her train of concentration. But having reached the procrastination part of the afternoon, she thought, what harm could there be in listening to a little regular music?

Emma had always had a soft spot for pop/punk/emo music. It brought her joy even when it wasn’t joyful, which is either a sentiment only shared by lonely foster girls or perhaps all emo kids, but did it matter? It was her kind of music. Long before she met Killian Jones.

But then she met him. He was an insufferable ass at least 2/3 of the time, but for the other third of his life, he was sweet, funny, and musically a goddamn genius. His voice was smooth and warm, he could play guitar like it was in his DNA, and his lyrics were both relatable and completely original. She was half in love from the start, so of course she pushed him as far away as possible.

(Love is patient; love is kind. Love is slowly losing my mind)

He was aloof. At best. They were college kids who shared a dorm building and not much else, not until their roommates fell in love with each other. That’s around the time they started spending an inordinate amount of time together. He was fucking anything with brown eyes and tits and she absolutely did not care and everything was fine. They were friends, kind of. She was a fan of his band, but not in the groupie way. She had no intention of being just a notch in his bedpost or a line in his song.

(As it turned out, she ended up becoming both. Eventually.)

When he wasn’t playing shows in dive bars (or fucking freshmen girls in a shower stall of their dorm hall’s shared bathroom), he spent a lot of time in Emma’s room. Mostly to avoid Mary Margaret and David in his room who were, as he called it, “the most sickly sweet love story this side of the Atlantic” and “a complete buzzkill to complex song-writing.” And she was OK with it. She loved when he would compose while she read. And they had the best conversations. They challenged each other on everything from politics to pie flavors and she’d never been so stimulated by someone of the opposite sex in her life.

Intellectually stimulated. In the brain.

By junior year, the two pairs of roommates had moved off-campus, opting to share a three bedroom house while they finished up school. Killian’s band was starting to actually make something of themselves, but he vowed to get his degree (this pretty face won’t last forever), and Emma played tutor for him when he skipped class for weeks on end so he could play some gigs on the west coast.

They were friends. They were equals. They meant so much more to each other than “just” friends or study buddies or housemates or anything, because the past three years had been the most stable years in either of their lives and it was all because of the support they received from each other in the darkest nights and the brightest days and seriously.

Fuck Pandora.

It had distracted her when she was in the middle of perfectly pleasant procrastinating. Now she was getting off track. Frazzled. Fucking pissed.

With her work mostly finished, she had decided to listen to Panic! At the Disco’s station. It was a safe zone – the best of two different genres: emo and pop. She bopped along to Blink 182 and “the Ballad of Mona Lisa.” She swayed and swooned a little when “Secrets” by One Republic played. And she got a good laugh at “I’m Not OK (I Promise),” remembering the days she’d scream “I’m not o-fucking kay! [trust me]” every time she got into a fight with the foster mother she now loved so very much.

But then there was a dramatic twist and a cinematic sweep and that voice and before she could switch the station, some warning popped up at her, removing all the buttons and controls and displaying the error message of SOMETHING WENT WRONG and all she could think was no shit, Sherlock.

Killian’s band got big when they were 21. And stayed big. The band broke up once, briefly, but they’d been dancing around the American Top 40 for at least 6 of the last 9 years and as much as it hurt her to hear his voice through a radio and not through a wall of their shared house, at least the lyrics of the songs never stung her before.

Because they’d never been about her before.

It was the summer before senior year, late that June, and Killian had just returned from a little pop-punk festival in Seattle. She’d picked him up at the airport in Portland (Maine) and had been chatting his ear off about how much better “our” Portland was from “theirs” (Oregon), but Killian had been largely silent.

Which was out of character to the extreme, his little creative writing/song composer mind always racing and his far too pleasing voice always spilling from his stupidly attractive lips.

“What is up with you, Jones? I just said that they have better lobster in Oregon and you didn’t even react.”

From the passenger seat, he played with the window controller, the air whooshing in and stopping to the rhythm of Seven Nation Army AKA the world’s most overplayed song that wasn’t sung by Ed Sheeran or Taylor Swift.

“Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing, Swan. A problem for a different day, to be sure.”

His voice had been quiet, unsure. That wasn’t him either. This was the asshole who could start a trend with a typo and who claimed to have made a girl come with nothing but his voice. His level of confidence was infuriating, but unshakeable.

(He made forgetting the words to his own songs look attractive. And that was an eventual Buzzfeed headline, not Emma’s own assessment. Obviously.)

“Killian, what’s up? Did the festival not go as well as you wanted? From what I saw on YouTube, it seemed awfully successful.”

“Aye, love.” He perked up just a bit, finally turning toward her and smiling. “It was grand.”

“And you’re brooding because, what, you’re worried that feeling happy for too long will sap you of your emo energy or something?”

Her attempt to lighten the mood didn’t seem to take, though, and Killian turned back out the window like he was practicing for his very own music video.

When they got back to their house, Emma grabbed his clothes and Killian lugged the musical equipment and neither of them said a word.

Fog had rolled in, or maybe it was on its way out, and if it weren’t for the green leaves, it might have felt like October. But there was something about his expression that was a hell of a lot more December. Something ending.

They were lingering almost awkwardly in their kitchen, Emma trying to casually wrack her brain for how to pull Killian out of his little funk, when he interrupted her with an overdramatic clearing of his throat.

“Ahem! Fancy a drink, Swan?” Killian extended a shot glass to her, a dark liquid inside that couldn’t be anything but spiced rum.

“What’s the occasion?” she asked hesitantly.

“Perhaps… perhaps it’s a celebration.”

“…of?”

“Your business sense, of course!” He lifted his glass toward hers for a clink and then downed the shot faster than she could even raise hers to her lips.

“What kind of business are we talking here? I’m not sure if this is the setup for an idiot joke or a reference to lyrics you swear you told me you wrote but never actually did.”

“Ah, love, no. Not that, this time anyway. Actually – actually, it’s about the band. And ‘Grand Theft Autumn.’ They loved it like you said they would.”

“They being?”

“The record company. They loved it. And they want it. And us.”

Holy shit! She knew it. They were going to be famous. Killian deserved it so much and they were going to be huge and everyone was going to love him just like she did and –

Wait.

“When you say they want you… do you mean, like, deferred acceptance so you can finish college or…”

“No, love. The boys and I … we’re packing up and moving to LA.”

She was dumbfounded.

“LA?”

“Aye.”

“When?”

“Monday.”

That’s right about the time her stomach dropped to her heels and the rum threatened its way back up her throat and perhaps onto Killian’s perfectly rumpled white shirt.

She just – wasn’t ready to let him go.

She could hear his honey-smooth voice drift through her head, his own lyrics seeming oddly relevant to this dramatic turn in her life.

Maybe he won’t find out what I know; you were the last good thing about this part of town.

So they drank. And drank. And drank some more. They were more honest with each other than they’d been in three years. She told him how much she hated that he thought setting his clocks early would keep him from being late. And he told her that he didn’t truly think that… it just had fit as a song lyrics and he felt like he needed to “make it authentic by living it.”

She called him pretentious and he called her painfully adorable and neither were true and yet somehow they felt like the perfect identifiers for the characters they were trying to be when they weren’t with each other.

So of course she fell into bed with him that night. Her bed. The twinkly lights hung around her ceiling were flickering as he kissed a trail down her neck and she tugged off his way-too-tight jeans and dear fucking lord if she thought the only thing he could do with his tongue was sing, she was officially wrong.

But come morning she was officially gone. As the sun rose on a rainy June Sunday morning, she slipped out of her bed, slid into whatever clothes she could reach without making noise, and jogged all the way to David’s brother’s frat house to hide until Monday came and went and when exactly did her life turn into an emo song?

When I wake up I’m willing to take my chances on the hope I forget

September. Friday the 13th. Pandora malfunction. Her brain was reeling and her heart was shattering all over again, because the song pumping through her pathetic tinny Dell speakers was, on first blush, just another of his melodramatic fictions, a series of sentiments that sounded good together but that he’d never actually experienced (he’d admitted the best songs were much like Hey There Delilah… a lovely story and 0% real).  But she could hear something genuine in that still so attractive voice. And then… a few familiar thoughts.

I’ll be as honest as you let me

I miss your early morning company

If you get me

You are my favorite ‘what if’

You are my best ‘I’ll never know’

She’d turned off her phone the morning she’d left him in her bed. Kept it off until Tuesday. And blocked his number the minute she turned it back on.

Goodbyes were bad enough. To have been reduced to his very last college-one-night-stand? She couldn’t face it.

(Especially because she’d realized mid-fuck she’d kind of always wanted to be his forever, or whatever overly-romantic hyperbole he’d scoff at before writing it down in his notes.)

She hadn’t let herself think of him for longer than the span of one of his songs since that day. Even then, she’d usually change the channel. It was just too hard.

But could this one actually be about her? And if so, what the fuck was she supposed to do with that? Cry? Scream? Sue his sorry ass for slander?

(Not that one.)

She’d made a lot of mistakes in her life. He’d never been one of them, not until the end. Is it possible that didn’t need to be the end at all?

My 9 to 5 is cutting open old scars

Again and again til I’m stuck in your head

He’d probably had a lot of almosts. Maybe he’d just gotten better at faking genuine emotion in his songs. There’s no way he still thought about her. Even for lyrical dramatics.

I wish I’d known how much you loved me

I wish I’d cared enough to know

I’m sorry every song’s about you

The torture of small talk

With someone you used to love

Well there you had it. Small talk? They hadn’t talked in years. And she already knew every song was total bullshit, made up longing. Some of his best lovelorn pandering (that she admittedly loved) had been written when he claimed to be incapable of actual love. When he would only sleep with dark-haired, dark-eyed girls who didn’t want anything more than a good breakfast the next morning.

(I’m not looking for a soulmate, darling, just a beauty without a gag reflex, he’d repeated on many occasions. Sometimes literally to the women he was hitting on. And yes, they did usually blow him afterward and he would inexplicably tell her and she Did. Not. Care.)

(Until the day she realized she always had.)

A week after he’d moved to Los Angeles had been the 4th of July. It being summer and most of her friends working various jobs, she didn’t think there would be a huge party. James had insisted, though, that they needed to celebrate the fact that their friends were getting famous. David had pointed out the irony that the band – Killian, Will, Robin, and Graham – were all from outside of the USA. And yet they were being celebrated on America’s birthday.

“Stealing things from others is the American way. Now drink, little brother!” James had shouted just before his frat brothers lifted him into keg stand position and he chugged.

Emma wasn’t one for keg stands, so she’d opted for drinking straight liquor instead, and from what she could extrapolate from the massive headache the next morning (in addition to the vomit in her bedside garbage can), she had likely drank that bottle in its entirety.

After the opening of Pandora’s box that fateful Friday the 13th, Emma couldn’t think of much else but her almost-maybe-something Killian Jones. Suddenly his stupid band was everywhere and that stupid song was everywhere and she was feeling a deep longing to connect with that girl who had two whole albums by two different bands written about her to see how the fuck she coped with old wounds being opened every fucking visit to the grocery store.

(Then again, Brand New and Taking Back Sunday weren’t quite so mainstream. Maybe that’s how she survived.)

(Is that what you call a getaway? Tell me what you got away with, cause I’ve seen more spine in jellyfish; I’ve seen more guts in 11 year old kids.)

She’d taken to keeping the radio off at all times, and humming the Star Spangled Banner when she couldn’t escape Killian’s stupidly attractive and all-too-familiar voice gracing the airwaves.

Ruby asked her out for drinks, and alcohol was exactly the cure for her current tumult, so she agreed on the very specific request that they hit the country bar downtown instead of their usual Rabbit Hole escapades. Which worked out great for avoiding song-specific reminders, but sadly didn’t keep all Killian talk at bay.

“By the way, how have you been holding up?” Ruby asked, probably in response to Emma’s downing two shots – one of which that had been intended for Ruby – in the first minute or so at the table.

“What do you mean, holding up?” She wasn’t that transparent, right?

“Well the song… the one Killian wrote about you. It’s, like… huge. Weird how he waited this long. Did he warn you first or anything?”

… what? It wasn’t about her. Sure, it kind of, a little bit, had some moments that seemed like they could be inspired by her. But it had been nine fucking years and she hadn’t seen him since the morning she slinked away from their house and it’s not like he’d ever reached out or anything (or at least he didn’t try very hard, because blocking a cell phone number wasn’t like blocking a whole-ass person),  hence her nine years of denial and shoving down her feelings like the very opposite of the emo kid she once was.

She probably looked like that stupid meme of the lady thinking about math and her heart was beating nearly out of her chest, but somehow the only sound that made it out of her mouth was, “huh?”

Ruby, bless her heart, was much better at dealing with, you know, life than Emma was. And sorting through feelings and coping with unprecedented situations that Emma had so far only seen odd iterations of in Hallmark movies or … emo music videos, probably.

“The song. Fourth of July. It’s been a while since he wrote a song about you and I mean usually they were about pining for you, which is a little more tolerable, probably. But this one… I don’t know. I just figured you probably didn’t appreciate it, and that’s why you were drinking my shots.”

Another lame, dumbfounded response: “What? Killian’s never written a song about me.”

Ruby’s eyebrow shot up to her hairline (the way Killian’s always had when she said something silly). “So all that shit in college was…?”

“Made up! Ruby, he was a creative writing major. He just made up characters and then wrote songs as if he were them. He never actually wanted to date anyone. Just fuck anything that resembled Megan Fox.”

Ruby didn’t say a word. She stood, walked to the bar, ordered two drinks, and sat back down with Emma a few minutes later.

“Sweetheart. You sure are dumb for a smart girl.”

And that’s how Emma’s Enlightenment began.

As it turns out, Killian’s creative writing skills were great, but not quite as great as his love for his best friend.

Yep, love. Apparently he’d loved her.

There was a reason he’d really only fucked girls that looked nothing like Emma.

There was a reason he had valued her input so much in his music.

There was a reason he’d hung out with her so often and it had nothing to do with Mary Margaret and David’s grossness.

Keep quiet; nothing comes as easy as you. Can I lay in your bed all day?

Fuck.

“Why didn’t he tell me?!”

Ruby laughed at her, which was totally uncalled for, but also kind of made a lot of sense if she had the ability to think of any of this objectively.

“Oh, honey. He told you every goddamn day in those songs. And how he acted. You’d have to be blind to not realize how much that boy loved you. So he assumed it was a ‘no’ from your side. And then after you slept with him and then he poured his heart out to you and still nothing? That was kinda it for him. But I mean, it’s been so long. I can’t believe he released a song about that now.”

At that, Emma’s jaw dropped. Hard. There was an audible pop and damnit, she was going to have to ice that later, probably.

“How do you know I slept with him?!”

“… because you had a fight about it literally in front of every person you knew?”

HUH?

The buzz of the alcohol was nothing compared to the stinging behind her eyes and the pain in her gut and seriously had the past decade actually been a very different reality from what she’d been living?

And how had Mary Margaret, AKA the Secret Spiller, never told her that A) Killian loved her or B) that Emma had apparently had a blacked-out fight with him in front of everyone?

Emma’s Enlightment continued.

Apparently no one spilled the secret because no one knew it was a secret to start. Much like Killian had, everyone thought that Emma knew his feelings, but that she just wanted to be friends.

And after the blow up on the Fourth of July, they just assumed she didn’t want to talk about it.

While David and James and a bunch of their friends were playing beer pong and Mary Margaret and Regina were trying to find another pair to play cornhole, Emma had been nursing a bottle of Jack Daniels from the roof of the frat house. She’d crawled out of Jefferson’s window, much to his annoyance (he worked in the morning and needed to sleep), and she just watched. Everyone was having a good time. The best days of their lives were now or even tomorrow.

But hers were yesterday.

So she drank and she drank and she drank until the boys were lighting off fireworks and Belle had started a chant of USA! USA! And out of nowhere she saw the floppy brown hair and scuffed-up leather jacket she’d been wishing for every minute of the last week.

“Swan! I need to speak with you!” he’d called up at her, perched on the Lion statue at the front entrance.

But, of course, he’d been pulled in a thousand different directions as soon as everyone else saw their about-to-be-famous friend. So Emma drank and drank and drank some more, not prepared to actually have to say goodbye this time.

Ruby wasn’t sure how long it took until Killian made it onto the roof with her. She did know they’d only been talking a few minutes when Emma started screaming at the top of her lungs about thanks for the memories, even though they weren’t so great. That seemed to have really upset him, because then he started screaming about why the bloody hell did you sleep with me then and Emma had cried but ultimately said she didn’t mean to and he needed to just leave because that’s what he was going to do anyway and there was no reason to feel sorry for her.

There had been more screaming that wasn’t quite intelligible (thank goodness), but when all was said and done, Killian had told Ruby that he laid it all down on the line, how much he loved her, how he wanted her to go with him to LA, how he really would burn down the whole city just to show her the light, but she’d said no. Emphatically.

Before crying so hard in Jefferson’s closet that he threatened to take her to the ER.  When Emma passed out, Killian had carried her to his car (the only sober one) and carried her into her room when they got to his now-former house, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek and his later assurance to Ruby that at least he had tried.

And Emma didn’t remember.

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Emma muttered to Ruby.

Was there anything worse than finding out something that could have changed your life nine fucking years too late? She had never loved anyone like she’d loved Killian. It had been the easiest relationship of her existence. She’d never felt more safe, more valued, more… loved. But she’d thought it was friend-love.

(Even after the amazing sex.)

What a fucking dumbass she was.

Ruby left her to gather her thoughts/sulk in the corner for at least three line dances before she came back over to their table, bringing Emma a nice tall water as she cleared the un-drunk Long Island Iced Tea from next to Emma’s slumped head.

“I don’t think I can ever un-fuck this up,” Emma whined into her elbow before sitting up to chug the glass of water.

“I do have his number,” Ruby offered.

Hey um Ruby gave me your number and apparently I have a lot to apologize for

Congratulations on the fame also by the way I loved you every minute of every day

This is Emma, remember me? Apparently your song about me is doing really well

Hey Killian, I was wondering if you ever made it to this side of the country any more

I don’t know what to say except I’m sorry

After about 15 failed attempts to send him a message that would convey the depth of her regret, she nearly gave up. Hands shaking, legs bouncing, lunch threatening to make an encore appearance, she pulled up the lyrics to his new song, took a screenshot,

And all my thoughts of you

They could heat or cool the room

And now don’t tell me you’re fine

Oh, honey, you don’t have to lie

And added:

I’m not fine.

It was a very painful 26 hours before she received a response, a screenshot with an addition as well.

I said I’d never miss you, but I guess you’ll never know

Where the bridges I have burned never really led home

Can I come home?

They met outside the old frat house (now shut down) a week later, staying awake until sunrise just catching up on all that had happened since they last saw each other (and a little bit of what happened when they did). She brought sparklers and he brought nine years of unreleased song lyrics.

And when his band’s next single was called Opening Pandora’s Box on Friday the Thirteenth, well, everyone but Emma just thought they were being their usual melodramatic selves.

Yeah, songs about her weren’t all that awful after all.

[peach-jaehyunie]

You Were Beautiful: Epilogue

Pairing: Jung Jaehyun x Reader

Warnings: mentions of depression, this is entirely angst and fluff though

Rating: 18+

Words: 2k

Previous: Part I, II, III, IV

It’s odd being back in school after a couple years off, but it’s a distraction from the heartbreak you feel. For a couple of months you cried; privately sobbing into your pillow, or excusing yourself to the bathroom if the feelings became overwhelming. Your friends asked if you had dated anyone seriously while you were in Korea. Of course not! You told them, insisting that embarking on a relationship like that when you had no intention to stay would have been careless. You had dated very casually you told them. Your mother had seen the letter clutched in your fist when she had seen you crying, but she never pushed you any further than you asking if you had loved him.

“With every fibre of my being.” You said to her.

Being in school felt right, being home felt right, but your life felt, otherwise, empty. You got back together with an ex. Ben was familiar and comfortable; he knew your life and you knew his. There were memories of shared teenage years and lots of shared friends. He had been your first love, and you were the friends with the great chemistry but you didn’t date until university. As friends, you had been through past breakups together. You had ended it to travel and teach for a few years, and you were pretty sure that you may have uttered the words “wait for me if you feel like it”. His parents loved you, and your parents loved Ben and his parents. You were bored and sexually unfulfilled. Ben criticized things Jaehyun had admired about you. He seemed lazier than you remembered, and you had forgotten that he was one of those people who constantly criticized other people’s thoughts or opinions. He constantly told you why you were wrong. You found out he had briefly gotten back together with a high school girlfriend while you were gone, and she had broken his heart for the second time. Neither of you said it out loud, but you both knew that the other wasn’t completely happy. At one point you had thought about being with Ben forever and having children together, now you made excuses to avoid sex as often as possible. Ben knew you well enough to know that this was extremely uncharacteristic of you.

A year went by and you still thought of Jaehyun every day. You regretted ever wasting a single second by being angry at him after the engagement announcement. You wanted one more day with him—even an hour would suffice. He was in everything you did, he was in every good thought you had. Ben knows there’s someone else, and he asks the bare minimum. Of that, you’re grateful. Sometimes, late at night, you remember the overwhelming—drowning even—sensation of love that you felt with Jaehyun. Maybe that was once in a lifetime love; maybe the regular love was all that you had to look forward to in the future. Your friends were getting married, but you were busy writing your thesis. Your friends were having babies, but you were pining over a married man in a foreign country. Things happened during the day that you wanted to share with Jaehyun, vacation spots became available but you only wanted to go with Jaehyun. A fear that you might never get over him gripped you: what if you never moved on as you had promised. An even greater fear was that Jaehyun may have completely moved on; maybe he was happily in love with someone else, what if he didn’t think of you anymore—it was selfish, that you knew. You wanted him to be blissfully happy and in love, but more than anything you wished that it was with you. You kept in touch with Johnny and Yuta. Johnny never brought up Jaehyun, and Yuta learned to as well. You accepted the love lost, but the world seemed dull. You began to avoid friends and social obligations, devoting yourself to paper writing and volunteering at call helpline centre for youth. Your professor got you involved as a counselor for an addiction group. You devoted every spare moment to others to avoid your own problems. You realized were even denying yourself the opportunity of another chance at love or happiness. You resented the stagnant relationship you were in and mentally chastised yourself for letting love go so easily. You were angry with the naive girl you had once been—who was she to walk away from love without even sparing him one last glance. You saw Jaehyun when you closed your eyes, and your heart stopped for a moment one day when someone walked by you wearing his same cologne. Little things reminded you of him, and you had never missed a person so much. Depression gradually began to settle in, and you pushed yourself to be even busier. On the outside, you were cool as a cucumber, completely together and sometimes even cheerful, but at home, you would shut down; like a computer put to sleep. You wanted desperately for someone to ask how you really were, maybe then you would tell someone. Maybe talking about it would make it feel better, but you also knew that no amount of talking or thinking about Jaehyun would ever bring him back. If Jaehyun existed in summer, then you existed in a world that had no summer—nor even a spring that rekindled the memories of the upcoming season. You cried, pitying yourself for not forgetting Jaehyun or allowing yourself to move on. It was your fault, you were doing this to yourself. “You could be happy if you wanted to be, Y/N.” you muttered to yourself when you were alone. This was never whom you wanted to become, this was not the woman Jaehyun had fallen in love with.

After two years back home, you and Ben broke up by mutual agreement; parting ways with a “see you around”, because 15 years of being a part of each other’s lives were not to be forgotten easily. You focused on yourself and began to tell yourself that you had once had a great love. “I have known love.” You say to yourself every night before falling asleep. You didn’t look for a relationship if you met someone you liked—then so be it, but your energy was otherwise spent on yourself and your work. You take up hobbies you had let fall by the wayside in university, and let little things in life bring you happiness. You tell Yuta to meet you in Osaka in the spring under a cherry blossom tree.

There is a figure standing outside your door, but you don’t notice him immediately as he slowly turns towards the sound of your footsteps as you carry your groceries, humming to yourself. You stop in your tracks when you spot him, and a wave of emotions hits you immediately filling your eyes with tears. He looks the same: his hair falls almost in his eyes, thick and soft as you remember it; his expression is neither happy nor sad, and his eyes appear to drink the sight of you in.

“Hello, Y/N.” he says quietly, his hands remain stuffed in his pockets but he offers the slightest smile.

“Hel—hello, Jaehyun” Your voice cracks loudly and you clear your throat as you set your bags down at your feet. You don’t dare move nearer to him, afraid he’ll disappear like smoke—nothing more than an apparition.

“I’m sorry, I maybe shouldn’t have just shown up.” He looks down at his feet, insecurity being apparent for the first time since he had brought you back your bra in a little paper bag.

“No,” it comes out harsher than you mean “No, it’s fine.” You continue, your voice softening. He looks at you and nods his head before stepping towards you. You’re unable to move as he comes closer to you, this was a dream, this couldn’t be real.

“May I?” He asks as he reaches for your grocery bags. He smells the same, and you nod your head as he lifts the bags from near your feet.

“What are you doing here?” Finally finding your strength and your voice, you can’t let him get away without an explanation. He can’t just come and go as he pleases, not when you’re finally starting to do well.

“Um, well...” he hesitates, standing there with your groceries, “Misook and I are taking everything over in the companies and consolidating it all. Our parents own a lot of real estate...my dad owns a lot of complexes, and one of them is only a couple hours away from here.” You’re unsure of what you’re hearing, and not entirely sure if you’re still breathing. He still hasn’t told you why he’s here, at your house.

“Misook and the baby” Your stomach plummets, “will have half of all assets, and the other half will be mine.” You feel as if you might be sick: so that’s what it feels like; that’s what the keen slap of heartbreak feels like. You can’t look at him, you feel betrayed. You grab the bags from him and rush to your door as you fumble with keys. To your humiliation, you drop them and you feel like breaking down right there, but you can’t let him see you fall apart like that. You curse under your breath as you bend down to pick them up.

“Y/N, he’s Minseok’s.” Jaehyun informs you quietly, sensing what caused your sudden outburst.

“Oh,” you start awkwardly, looking at Jaehyun; your expression embarrassed and apologetic.

“I guess what I’m saying is...I don’t need to be in Korea full time to run the company, and if you’re still interested I’m still madly in love with you.” He’s clear and concise. “We can’t get married or anything until Misook and I completely work out who owns what...so how do you feel about not marrying me, right away at least?” He walks up to you as he says this. You stare at him in front of you, was this real? Was he here asking you this? You make no reply, how do you tell him you completely failed to forget him and stop loving him as he had asked. How do you tell him you would take him back if it meant you two had to move to the moon together. He takes your silence as a negative reply, and he nods before beginning to turn away.

“Yes,” you breathe, reaching out to grab him. He’s real, he’s really here, he’s really asking you this you think as you grip him tightly.

“So you still love me?” Jaehyun asks, brushing a strand of hair off your face.

“How could I ever stop,” and the groceries are dropped again as your breaths intermingle for a moment before lips gently brush against each other. This is the only kiss that matters—it’s like a day was never missed, it was the same as it always was. This is the only feeling that matters, the swelling and feeling full and whole once again. He pulls away for a moment:

“What’s Forest Academy like?”

“Oh,” you are slightly confused for a moment when he mentions the private school nearby that’s filled with foreign students from wealthy families“It’s an excellent school, but it’s really expensive—“ you catch the look on Jaehyun’s face “—not that that will be a problem.” he grins and kisses you again, this time you pull away from him,

“Is that where our kids are going to go to school?” You ask, and you smile against his lips.

“Yes, and then they’ll spend the summer in Seoul with their grandparents. Now that we have everything figured out, all we have to do is make them--but we don’t have to rush that part.” He cuts off your laughter with the crush of his lips. Every movement and breath is as if no time had passed, it’s familiar while still being tantalizing and fulfilling. You feel complete, you feel weightless; he is your equal and you are his. Love is a living and breathing thing: it is constant and ever-changing; its heartbeat slows and speeds up; it is small and warm, and then sometimes swells and consumes you like a fire.