I learned from an extremely young age that love was conditional, that I was always supposed to earn it, but never did because I never did anything well enough, and I was always set up for failure like that. And I knew other people who had love got it because they were good enough, and I thought I had no worth because I could never be good enough to earn that conditional love. And I never was good enough back then. I know now that, in fact, I am good enough. I shouldn't have to burn myself out, to put up with the intolerable, I shouldn't feel like I can't say "no" to avoid conflicts, I don't have to be accept hurtful behavior so others can feel comfortable enough to love me! I can be loved for who I am, right here, right now, without being of use to anyone, because I am not something to use, I am not a doll, I am not a manic pixie dream girl, it is not my job to make someone find their own path to a happy and fulfilled life. I should be prioritizing fulfilling my own life without caring about what others think.
This is both a breakthrough and a breakdown. And then it becomes an epiphany. I am a capable person. And I am older now and I can understand that no one should have to earn love, ever. I don't have to keep living this way - so I won't.
I can do what I enjoy, I can live my honest life, I can be authentic and no longer be afraid of loving relationships. I will keep allowing myself to receive love. I will see that my life reflects how much love my heart can have: an insurmountable amount.
Love for all things, myself included.
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“you’re going to hurt yourself like that, my love.”
you startle at the voice over you, having been nearly asleep.
“—uh?”
you turn your head to see Nanami looming over your side of the bed. if you were fully conscious, you would see the tiny look of mischief in his eyes as they roam your body, but you’re not, so you take it as his tendency to mother hen you.
and then he’s pushing you to the middle of the bed despite your whining, climbing in beside you. you try to settle in and find you’re still being moved—he’s on his back, shuffling himself down the bed and pulling one of your legs over his chest. you feel him turn his face into your belly in a move that feels suspiciously like nuzzling.
“what’re y’doin,” you slur, a little petulant at being woken up like this, despite it being well past the time you meant to rejoin the living and despite your own desire to seek out the warmth he’s emitting next to you.
“you’re going to hurt your hip, laying like that,” he says, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. he runs a hand up the back of your thigh and over your hip, and you sigh a little bit, comforted by the feeling of him.
“i don’t know how you sleep like that,” he continues, absentmindedly dragging his fingers over your skin, making you shiver every now and then.
“feels good,” you grumble, face shoved into the pillow. talking about your bizarre sleeping position and maybe also the way the rough pads of his fingers leave a trail of warmth in their wake. you think you hear him chuckle softly, and you feel him press a kiss to the skin of your belly, right above the hem of your sleep shorts.
it’s soft, chaste—and then it’s not, and you suck in a breath when you feel him kiss you there again, feeling the tip of his tongue drag along the skin that stretches over your hip bone.
and evidently he hears your sharp inhale, because you feel a strong arm sneak around your lower back, pulling you closer to him.
“was still sleeping, you know,” but it’s lost all of its bite and you’re a little breathless now, fixated on the way his free hand slides up the back of your thigh to brush over the sensitive spot just under the curve of your ass.
“go to sleep then,” he says into the soft of your belly, pressing another kiss, opening his mouth a little wider to catch the skin of it between his teeth. he’s turned into you now, and despite yourself, you drag your leg up from his chest so it’s over his shoulder.
he moves to rest his head against your thigh that’s trapped underneath him, and distantly you think that it is more comfortable like this— his head squeezed between your legs having alleviated some of the pressure against your hip from laying on your side. that thought quickly becomes muddled in your head when you feel him latch on to the skin of your inner thigh that rests against his face.
you whine, hips bucking weakly as you squirm under tongue and teeth—both leaning into and trying to get away from the sting of his bite.
“my sweet love,” he coos, running his tongue over the fresh bruise, placating you. you shiver, pressing your face further into the pillow to try to breathe—to ground yourself despite the heat that curls up your spine. he stops, then, and you peak down at him to find that he’s staring back up at you.
“hi,” you whisper, fighting another shudder at the way his lips pull at the corners into a smirk that looks absolutely sinful on him.
“good morning,” he drawls, deep and far too awake. he rests his chin in the space between your hips, pressing a quick kiss above your pubic bone. your hips buck toward him a tiny bit, and his smirk widens when he feels it.
you bring a hand down to run it through his hair, tangling in the blond strands and scratching at his scalp. he closes his eyes and hums, deep in his chest, nuzzling into your thigh. it makes you smile, and it makes you ache.
“want you, ken,” you murmur, squeezing him gently between your thighs and reveling in the groan he lets out.
“i know, sweetheart,” he coos, hands coming up again to grope whatever skin he can reach and pressing a tiny kiss through your shorts, “i can smell you.”
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reminder:
you're allowed to be proud of your accomplishments.
you're allowed to think you're pretty, or smart, or funny.
you're allowed to be good at things.
you're allowed to voice your opinion.
you're allowed to do whatever makes you feel comfortable.
you're allowed to not know what you want to do.
you're allowed to change your mind.
you're allowed to want things.
you're allowed to cry and break down.
you're allowed to be disappointed when things don't go your way.
you're allowed to love the way you love.
you're allowed to dream.
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