#sorry not to have a pity party but it's so fucking exhausting

[souperbloom]

being in love. [A.I.]

loosely based on lyrics of the song with the same title, by Wet Leg.

roadie! reader x Ashton

in which you realize your feelings for your boss are a lot more detrimental than you thought they were.

this was supposed to be short and i went overboard. oops! enjoy my first post :^)

CONTENT WARNINGS: tension/slight mental angst, mentions of weed smokin', sex in a somewhat public place/exhibitionism, teasing, fingering(f!receiving), dirty talk, degradation, straight up p in v, insinuation of a creampie, porn with plot basically, filth, filth, FILTH (there is something seriously wrong with me).

WORDCOUNT: 7.9k

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You couldn’t fucking stand him.

As much as you wanted to believe that statement, your heart, mind, and soul found every which way to make you believe otherwise.

The days you spent with him dragged on. His over the top personality was like a vacuum cleaner that sucked every ounce of life out of you.

And yet, despite your annoyance with his ability to charm his way towards your demise, the days without him felt like a lifetime.

Since the first time you and Ashton hooked up, all you were able to think about, after the fact, were the things that you really shouldn’t have been.

Almost every night without missing a beat, you’d lie awake in bed; staring off at the ceiling through your post-show exhaustion and reminiscing on the hours you’ve spent with him. Sneaking off between down times and show times. For a quick and casual fuck.

You’d think about his terrible jokes, the little speckles of brown lost between the hues of green in his eyes, or his ability to make you feel like nothing in the best possible way.

You thought about them. You thought about him. All in hopes that one day, you’d think about him so hard that he would just vanish.

It was reverse psychology, you thought, a way to turn that fluttering feeling you get when you’re around him into something a little less existential, and more like you had both originally intended.

Something more casual.

You didn’t like the fact that he had this effect on you. He was about as brutish and irritating as the day is long. When it was just the two of you, you wished more than anything that he would stop being so damn’ sweet and charismatic. The thought of him calling you nicknames and whispering sweet nothings in your ear made you want to curl up and die.

But the vital organ pumping blood through your veins begged to differ.

Whenever he was around, the pounding of your heart against your ribcage was so deafening, you were almost certain that he could hear it.

It felt strange to wake up, to lie down, to close your eyes and think about anything else. You couldn’t even eat without the thought of him stirring up nausea in your stomach. It was almost as if nothing you did could satisfy you. Nothing you did was right.

Because any time without him felt so wrong.

There were moments in which you wondered whether or not he could feel it too. You'd catch him staring at you from across the dressing room, his eyes lingering down your frame for a millisecond longer than normal.

But you're never quite able to figure it out. To figure him out. He was a thousand piece puzzle, and you were stuck looking for the last piece between the couch cushions.

"Yo, earth to Y/N. Did we lose ya' again?"

Your trance is broken by the sound of Calum's voice. You had been so wrapped up in your own pity-party that you had completely forgotten that you were in the middle of a conversation.

"Jeez, are we really that boring?" Luke laughs out, leaning back in his seat, "I thought our conversation about green tea was quite compelling."

"Sorry, sorry..." You try to snap yourself out of whatever God forsaken rut you've dug yourself into, covering up the awkward silence with the clearing of your throat. "...I guess I don't like green tea as much as I thought I did."

"I'm with Y/N on this one. Green tea is fucking disgusting." Michael comes to your rescue with his reply, which practically had you kissing his shoes as a thank you for saving my ass.

"You guys clearly have no taste. It's simple." Luke shrugs, taking a sip of his ice water. "I know if Ashton was here he'd be on our side, right Cal?"

Calum nods his head, "Speaking of Ashton... where the fuck is he? He said he'd meet us..." he pauses his sentence to look at his phone, "...like, an hour ago."

The pit of your stomach lurches at Calum's observation. He was right. Ashton had said he'd be down in the lounge... after he took a quick shower.

But then again, a quick shower was one of those double entendres in you and Ashton's world. Was he waiting for you? Did you misread his subtle glance after he walked right past you when you tried to hand him his water?

Or maybe that wasn't the case. Maybe you’re just overthinking things.

Maybe he just looked at you because he's your boss and you're his roadie; who he just so happens to fuck from time to time.

That's all it was. That's all it ever will be.

"I can go look for him?" You blurt, immediately wanting to smack yourself in the face for sounding so small.

"You don't have to do that, Y/N. He'll find his way down eventually." Michael sighs.

"He's like a ghost, dude... He disappears for hours. Doesn't answer his phone. Then suddenly, POOF, he appears out of thin air. It's fuckin' witchcraft, I think..."

Calum's comment earns a roaring laugh from the rest of the guys, but you weren't at all laughing. You were too busy debating walking out of the door and hoping they wouldn't notice you were gone.

"I don't think I believe in ghosts..."

Another dumbass conversation ensues.

"Are you kidding?! Since when did you stop believing in ghosts?!" Luke seems genuinely offended by Michael's admission.

And yet, you were stuck there. Wanting to rip your hair out as a giant cloud of sex-driven frustration rained down on you.

"Speaking of ghosts," you can't help but interject, speaking a little louder than you had originally anticipated, "I think I’m gonna go look for Ashton. He's probably off haunting the bar down in the lobby…"

"Well, if you insist," Calum says, saluting you, "good luck, ghost hunter."

As you exited the lounge with no issue and let the boys be boys, you thought to yourself.

Hm, getting out of there was a lot easier than I had anticipated.

But what you hadn't anticipated was the sheer speed in which your feet would pound against the floorboards once you started off down the hall. For you knew just where to look for him.

You were on a mission. A mission to find Ashton, in hopes that he could be the one to free you of the confines of your frustration. In the best way you both knew how.

Once you made it to the elevator corridor, you had to take a moment. To collect yourself and think... what the fuck are you doing?

Did you really think that fucking Ashton would get your mind off of the romantic connection you so desperately craved in him? Did you really think this was the best idea you've ever had?

The answer was no. You knew that this whole ordeal would dig your metaphorical grave ten feet deeper. But you honestly didn't have the energy to care. This witch hunt has turned into merely a way to get off.

Just like God intended.

You step into the elevator, already knowing your way around this hotel like the back of your hand after only being stationed here for a few days.

As the elevator made its' trip up to the rooftop, your senses were heightened. The elevator dings sounded like sirens and the climbing of floors was pushing down on you, making you feel as though the oxygen in your lungs was being forced out by the altitude change.

Your symptoms couldn't be explained by anything other than Ashton, as much as you hated to admit it. It was typical for you to feel this way whenever you answered to his beckoning call.

Just a quick and casual fuck. Quick. And casual.

You tried to focus your mind on those two words. Forcing your conscious out of habit and tricking yourself into believing them.

But as soon as the elevator door slid open, those two words were nothing but dust in the wind.

All you could see in the darkness of the twinkling summer sky was the curve of Ashton's shoulder, highlighted slightly by the patio lights. He was looking out past the glass that surrounded the rooftop, off into the New York City skyline.

You froze up upon seeing him, barely managing to step across the elevator threshold without vomiting all over your shoes.

There were remnants of smoke lingering in the air around him, a familiar, earthy smell touching your nose upon piecing your two senses together.

Before you could tell your brain to step forward, Ashton's head turns to face you. You finally get a look at him, a good look at him.

And fuck, did he look divine.

His hair was partially wet, rogue curls hanging lowly on his forehead with that post show gleam still laced throughout his features. He scratches at the stubble on his chin, a droplet of water dripping down his temple upon doing so.

"Y/N," he leered, the blank expression that once painted his face now lifting into a smirk.

"Ashton," you reply; although small talk is the last thing you wished to be having at the moment.

"Where've ya' been?" he asks, leaning his arm to rest against the back of the couch he was sprawled out on.

"The lounge... The guys are down there waiting for you, y'know." You try to divert the attention away from yourself. But you knew for a fact that you were the only thing on his mind right now.

His eyes scan your body. Up, and down. Up, and down. Like he was stuck in some sort of trance. "Well, that's funny, isn't it. Because I've been up here… waiting for you."

You fuckin’ knew it.

"And how was I supposed to know that?"

He pauses, thumbing at his chin, "I'm not sure, actually... 'Thought you would've had me figured out by now."

It was taking everything inside of you not to run over there and smack the shit out of him for being such a snarky asshole. But you were well aware of the dynamic between you two; this type of banter wasn't out of the ordinary.

"You just gonna stand there and stare at me, honey?" Ashton remarks, calling you by that nickname that makes your stomach hurt and revealing his hand from behind the couch; a lit and half-smoked joint plucked between his fingertips.

Without another word, you walk over to him, slowly starting to display more and more of his body laid out on the couch.

He had on a loosely fitting Hawaiian shirt, one of the ones with only half the normal amount of buttons, and a pair of grey sweatpants. To contradict the tone of the outfit and make it totally clear to you where his head was at when he put them on.

The Hawaiian shirt hung off of his shoulders, revealing his collarbone decked out in beaded necklaces and braided silver chains.

You wanted more than anything to take those chains between your teeth as he hovered over you, pinning you down and fucking into you like you were the last two people on Earth.

Sidetracked, Y/N. You’re getting sidetracked.

When it came to hooking up, you and Ashton had discovered a natural rhythm. A routine, of sorts, consisting of unspoken demands and a whole lot of Ashton holding the reins.

No need to give orders, or ask for more. You both knew what you wanted and exactly how to get it.

But that routine so deeply instilled in you had seemed to vanish as soon as you stepped in front of him.

Your bottom lip was caught between your teeth as you teetered from side to side, just admiring Ashton in all of his residually high glory. You wanted to say something, but couldn't bring yourself to say anything else but these two words:

"Fuck me."

His eyes widen in shock. Amusement, even. The joint between his fingers dwindling down to the roach and leaving ashes in the wind as he lets out a quiet chuckle.

"Y/N, I—"

You cut him off abruptly, "It wasn't a fucking question, Ash."

You didn't mean to come off so bossily, but at this point you were willing to do anything to forget about the weight that came with having alleged feelings for him.

Even if that something was letting him fuck you until you cried.

"Right here?"

"Yes." Your heart was racing.

"Right now?"

"Yes." Reminiscent of a heart attack.

And then he does something that makes you even more frustrated than you were before this entire ordeal. He looks at you, without a care, and just… shrugs.

“Works for me.”

You hated that. Oh, you fucking hated that. That cocky, ‘devil-may-care’ attitude. It gets you so worked up that you consider winding up your fist and cracking him the jaw.

But you don’t end up going through with your desires to hurt him at all. Instead, you’re pouncing at him. Scrambling to straddle his comfortably spread legs as he pulls you by your cheeks into a heated kiss.

You sigh upon feeling your lips on his, Ashton just as well. The both of you tend to melt into each other’s palms when your lips connect; which is another reason as to why your head was all fucked up and sideways in the first place.

As the kiss between you grows more primal, you find yourself taking out your frustrations and feelings on Ashton’s bottom lip. You sink your teeth into the soft flesh, tugging it down gently towards his chin.

His hands fumble for the button of your jeans, grunting lowly as he struggles to get it undone.

"Fuck— Get these… Get these damn things off…" The remark flies past his lips, and yours, in a disgruntled huff. You do as you’re told, momentarily disconnecting from him.

When you rise to your feet, being held up by weak, unreliable knees, he looks up. That face of amusement was still painted on, mocking you.

Was he still thinking about your desperate demand? Or was he just enjoying the view?

"Someone’s a little greedy tonight," he says, blowing out a breath and running a hand through his fresh, now sweaty, curls.

"I don’t wanna hear shit from you. You’re the greediest motherfucker alive." You tease back at him, undoing your zipper and shimmying out of your jeans.

"I’ll take that as a compliment coming from you, Miss ‘I never know what I want and I need Ashton to tell me’.”

"I knew what I wanted tonight, didn’t I?" His threats were empty, but you were loving it. You loved to tease, loved to be teased.

"That is true,” he sighs, looking down at the roach he had flicked onto the floor. He stomps it out with his steel-toed boot. "But that’s, what, one time—? Out of the however-the-fuck many times we’ve slept together?"

“You’re making this a lot more complicated than it has to be, Ash. Fuckin’ live a little.”

You were now in your t-shirt and underwear out on this rooftop, telling Ashton to live a little while you’re practically caving in on yourself in embarrassment.

"But, honey... why out here? Why right now?" he asks. Genuinely. Almost sweetly.

You didn't want to admit the real reason as to why you were acting so curtly. The embarrassment of sounding desperate and needy was doing numbers on you already.

"Does there always need to be a reason why?"

You cross your arms over your chest, feeling overexposed. But Ashton’s eyes scan down your frame as if there’s no shame left in the world.

"My apologies for seeming hesitant... You know full and well— I’d do you any time, any place.”

"Is that so?” you quip.

"I don’t think you realize how often I think about having you bouncing on my dick while I’m out on stage performing, so— yes, that is so.”

The way he admits this all so casually makes your stomach turn. You knew he was dirty, but not this dirty. You just assumed he knew that there was a time and place for all of these thoughts.

And the fact that he was thinking about you at all wasn’t making this any easier.

"Well?” Ashton snaps your mind out of the gutter. Ironic.

"Well what?"

"You just gonna stand there in your underwear?"

Oh. Right.

After a moment of blundering awkwardness, you walk towards him timidly, feeling as if your soul was freeing itself from your body as he extends his arms out to hold you.

You make your way back into his lap, digging your knees into the cushions comfortably beside his thighs and letting him run his blistered palm down the side of your face.

His bloodshot eyes find yours like a magnet. Your breath is trapped somewhere in your larynx as his hand continues its journey to your neck.

You felt like you were about to burst at the seams, the tension and friction building between you was like a bottle rocket, ready to set off into the sky.

And with that, exactly on cue, your heart is racing, as he cups your throat between ring finger and thumb. Your rattling ribcage was telling him all he needed to know when the pads of his fingers began to squeeze gently.

You close your eyes, "Ashton..."

"Y/N..." He repeats matching your hushed tone, swallowing the lump in his throat as your noses brush together.

His nose grazes yours with fragility and tenderness, his touch as light as a feather. But you couldn’t stand the space between you two. The clear disconnect between your lips and his.

He seemed to be lingering longer than usual. You found yourself wondering what the hell was going on in his head. Since you had clearly told him what you wanted a long time ago.

"Why aren’t you kissing me?" you ask quietly, still so close to his face that his features had gone blurry.

"Could ask you the same question, honey." His breath fans across your face and suddenly you’re reverting back to your old ways. Back before you were so— demanding.

“Well, not to be clichè, but— you’re meant to take the lead here, Ash.” You say it as if it were obvious, but he disagrees.

"Clearly not tonight."

Now, you were stuck.

You came up here to find him for one reason, and one reason only. To fuck him… to get your mind off of him.

But that all sounded a bit complicated, though. Didn’t it?

"Y/N…" He says your name again, reminiscent of pure honey dripping off of his tongue.

"Hm...?"

God, what is with him and saying your name?

"Is there something on your mind?"

You cock your head, "Would you still fuck me if I said no?..."

Ashton’s eyebrows shoot to his forehead.

"…Even if I wasn’t telling the whole truth?"

He backs away from you, giving you a better look at the confused expression laminated across his face.

"You’re a real card, aren’t’cha?”

His confusion melts into a smile, as he removes his hand from your neck to match his other at your waist. "You know I’d never force anything out of you, Y/N. But— just so you know… Honesty is the first chapter in the book of wisdom."

You can’t help but roll your eyes at his terrible cliché, finding your hand lost in his unruly curls. "You’re such an old man."

He winces, "God— please… Don’t put that picture in my head… It’s killing the mood."

In the brief moment of silence and sweetness shared between you and him, it was taking everything inside of you not to scream at the top of your lungs.

You wanted to scream; Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you. Ashton Irwin, I am in love with you… over and over again.

Until it didn’t mean a thing.

"Not gonna lie to you, honey— M’gettin’ impatient." Ashton lets out a deep sigh, his eyes snapping you out of a downward spiral.

"Right, right. I’m sorry—"

You cut yourself short by reconnecting your lips to his. You missed this feeling, even after only a few minutes; something inside of you dies every time you pull away from him.

He pulls your waist into his torso, pushing you down and grinding you against the already hardened length in his sweatpants. The wildly thin material left no room for the imagination, as it was now creating friction against your wet panties.

"Fuckin’ hell, Y/N—" Ashton mumbles through your lips, and you just sigh. You sigh into him like putty in his hands, creating a rhythm of swiveling hips and only furthering the fireworks that were occurring in the pit of your stomach.

He removes one hand from your waist, blindly finding the waistband of your underwear like it was some mindless, natural instinct.

Muscle memory is a damned thing.

Detaching your lips from his, you whine. "Ash, please—"

You wince internally at how needy you sounded. How desperate and completely disheveled you’ve become at his touch. Yet the blistered pads of his fingers continued to trace slow, taunting patterns along your bikini line.

But as your breathing becomes more erratic, Ashton reads you like the book he already knows so well. Front page to back, cover to fucking cover.

He dips two fingers down into your underwear, attaching them to your sensitive bud.

You writhe above him, but he keeps you grounded, anchoring his hand on your waist with his forehead pressed against yours.

His eyes flutter closed in delight. "So fuckin’ wet for me, yeah? This’ all for me, honey?"

It felt like he was mocking you. Of course it was for him. It was all for him. Anything you ever did was for him. Any feelings you’ve felt, thoughts you’ve had, stories you’ve told… they were all for him.

You can only bring yourself to nod.

"Good, good…" he sighs, breathlessly, "Gonna’ take me so easy tonight…"

He continues his rhythm. One finger circling your clit while the other ghosts over your entrance. Heavenly sighs fall from your lips. You want to close your eyes, you want to enjoy the sensation as it were.

But you just couldn’t look away.

"Look at me, Ash."

A bout of confidence rolls through your veins and you aren’t quite sure where it was coming from, but you had no complaints. Your foreheads being pressed together was making you antsy.

His features were still blurry through glossy eyes, which you didn’t really like. You wanted to get a good look at him before you tried to dismiss these feelings, and pretend as though he meant nothing.

Nothing at all.

He does as he’s told, and backs away from you. His teeth sunk into his bottom lip as he took in every single feature, etching, God knows what else, on your face.

"You know how fuckin’ beautiful you are, Y/N?— Always so good for me… like an angel… heaven sent."

Those words unleash something inside of you. Tears begin to brim at your lower lash line and you’re suddenly reminded of the feeling that you are so desperately trying to forget.

Existing in this world with him felt so strange. You truly believe he was sent down to Earth to smite you and haunt your memories.

And hearing him call you an angel didn’t help a damn thing.

The words you utter next come out just above a whisper. Your throat feels gravelly, and dry. Like you hadn’t drank water in years.

"Fuck me, Ashton. Just— fuck me, please—"

"M’gettin' there," he grunts, ignoring your plea and still chipping away at your decorum with his bare hands.

You let out a loud, high pitched mewl as you feel his two fingers now inside of you. He always took his time when it came to pleasuring you, always making sure that you’d be the one getting off first, even if he didn’t get the chance to.

Now, you’ve found yourself thinking in depth about just how thoughtful he is.

Jesus fuck, give it a rest.

"You know how much I adore those sweet sounds you make. But you’ve gotta be a tad bit quieter for me, alright angel?"

Oh god, you thought, this nickname better not become a recurring thing. You weren’t even sure you’d be able to fathom the thought of him thinking of you so highly.

"Okay, oh— fuck, Ashton"

Your brain was moving at a mile a minute. While trying to be quiet and simultaneously losing your head in the process, a smirk slides across Ashton’s face. He picks up on the signs, he notices your movements on his lap becoming more and more frenzied.

You knew you were close. He knew you were close.

Oh, of course he fucking did. He knew you like the back of his hand.

"Ash, I’m close… Please—" You begged empty pleas, finding stability with your hands clasped around his neck as you jerk forward with that fluttering feeling.

"I feel it comin’. Bein’ so— so good… C’mon— give it to me."

His two fingers thrust in and out of you while a third circled your clit. You wanted to scream, but he told you to be quiet. You wanted to kiss him, but you couldn’t pull yourself away from the purely concentrated, almost sadistic look in his eyes.

"That’s my girl… that’s my fuckin’ girl…"

The sounds of your wetness boom through your head along with the sounds of his praise, slowly meshing into a garish ringing in your ear. The butterflies once encased in the pit of your stomach had set free, fluttering along your body as Ashton’s rhythmic fingers come to a slowdown.

"Fuck!" You cry out, as your body collapses into his chest.

You could feel his ribcage shake with laughter, as he takes that free hand of his to rub your back. Your head is tossed over his shoulder as you manage your breathing.

"…Is that all you’ve got in you tonight?"

You could barely hear his voice over the ringing in your ears, as you heave like this was the last breath you’d ever take. He then removes his fingers from inside of you, causing you to jolt, still sensitive from the electricity coursing through your veins just moments before.

"N—no…" You stutter into his neck.

"You sure?"

"Uh-huh."

Your head was still spinning while you tried to cool down. The temperature of your bodies entwined was like a hot stovetop, setting your skin ablaze. But you couldn’t find it in you to lift yourself up from the crook of his shoulder.

You liked it there. It was comfortable. It felt natural.

After a few moments of silence and messy breathing, you lift your head up.

"All good now?" He asks, running a hand down your waist.

"I think so... Almost knocked me out with that one Ash, not gonna lie."

All he does is laugh, before hovering the two fingers he had used to unravel you with in front of the both of your faces.

"See this?" He examines his fingers, still glistening with your secretions, "Is this what I do to you?"

Your jaw falls open slightly, "Wh—"

He takes a moment to think to himself, pushing his lips to the side while you just watched in complete awe.

"…I wonder if my honey girl tastes as sweet as she looks?"

You don’t even have a moment to blink before he takes those two fingers into his mouth. He sucks whatever’s left of you off of his digits, before pulling them out with a pop.

"Mmm," he hums, "Just as I’d imagined… Sweet as fuckin’ honey"

Something inside of you snaps, and you’re suddenly reattaching your lips to his. He moans into you, taken aback by your actions with his hands fumbling to grab your ass and grind you down into him.

"I need— I need you…" You mumble into his lips, not long before he juts his tongue out to run it across your bottom lip.

His stubble scratches against your palms as you grab ahold of his face, trying to ease him into you as if it were even humanly possible to get him any closer.

"Need me t’fuck you, honey? You— you want me that badly?" He asks quickly, sounding out of breath already from the sheer friction of your hips grinding against him. You nod rapidly, and he dips down to kiss your neck to let you know that he heard you loud and clear.

“Please, Ash…" You couldn’t help it, your mind was still reeling, "I need to feel you—"

Your words come out airy and forced, like somebody was squeezing them out of you. But you couldn’t stop yourself no matter how hard you bit down your tongue.

"...Fuck me like I’m worthless… Fuck me like I mean nothing to you at all…"

His head pops up from the crook of your neck, a sardonic look in his eye.

"Say that again for me?"

"…Fuck me like I mean nothing to you, Ashton. Fuck me like I mean nothing at all.”

You couldn’t describe the way his face changed. The way it morphed into something that you weren’t at all used to. It wasn’t sarcastic, no. It wasn’t the usual cheeky grin, either.

You were afraid that you had just dug your grave even deeper this time.

"Stand up." He demands shortly, which brings goosebumps across your arms.

"Stand up?" You repeat, like a goddamn lovesick puppy.

"Stand the fuck up, Y/N."

You do as you’re told, wearily, lifting yourself off of him and rising to your feet. You watch in anticipation, crossing your arms over your chest as he remains sitting.

The dynamic between you two had shifted drastically. It was clear that Ashton was still in charge, only this time, it felt absolutely terrifying.

You wished you hadn’t said anything at all. You wished he had just let you ride him, as you were planning to do. But your emotions gotten the best of you. The thought of caring for him so deeply had actually brought you to spiral out of control.

What you had been longing for, all this time, was about to come true.

With that, you planned to do everything you were told. Each and every single order barked at you was to be followed. You wanted to see what it felt like. What it felt like to feel nothing for a change.

"Walk to the balcony." Another demand. You hesitate, still dealing with a subconscious battle of self. Your heart and brain were going at it like two bulls in the ring.

"Are you— are you gonna come with me?" You find your gaze glued to the patio, feeling as small and as meek as ever.

"Meh, I’ll make my way over eventually."

Fair enough.

You walk over towards the balcony; left only in your thin, grey CREW v-neck and a pair of frilly, sage green underwear.

The fact that Ashton didn’t comment on the color of them made you feel a bit discouraged. Green was his favorite color, after all. You at least thought he’d take a moment to appreciate it.

God knows that moment won’t be happening now.

You start to near the glass railing that surrounded the rooftop. But despite your back being turned, you could completely feel his eyes searing bullet holes into your flesh. A chill ran down your spine, uncomfortable with the feeling of being watched, yet enjoying the fact that it was by him.

"Keep walking."

You were getting so close to the glass that it actually started to feel cold, despite the lingering August air.

You also weren’t sure where his head was at. Him having you walk towards the balcony that was completely out-turned and visible to the street below almost felt like he was trying to humiliate you.

But that feeling was quickly washed away when you felt his footsteps behind you.

"You have any idea what you’ve just gotten yourself into, honey?” He inches close to you, close enough to feel the warmth of his body radiating onto your back yet still too far away to touch you.

You swallow the lump forming in your throat. “No… I-I don’t think so…"

You were telling the truth. No, Ashton, you had not a clue what you had just gotten yourself into. The absolute wormhole that you had just unlocked for yourself.

A new way to feel about things. A new way to feel about him.

Another wave of chills runs down your back as he takes the back of his hand and runs it down your shoulder. You wince, wanting nothing more than to turn around and kiss him.

"I didn’t think you had it in you."

"What?" Your voice comes out high pitched. Almost… nervous.

"To order me around like that. To finally buck up n’ tell me how to have my way with ya’… It’s honestly— kind of impressive."

His hand strokes down your arm once again, but this time, you just sigh.

He thinks this is just roleplay.

Little did he know that all of this nagging and bossiness had come from the truest, most integral parts of your soul and your longing to forget about the way your heart beats for him.

"You think so?" You try to gain back your sparkle with a witty reply, "How else can I impress you, Ash?"

All of these words exchanged between you two were said facing away from one another. You hadn’t the energy to care, nor the energy to make this anymore meaningful than it was, or was not, supposed to be.

You’ve finally decided to let go.

"Well, you can start by bending over." He snaps back. He’s always been so quick with his words.

To follow your mantra from before, you do as you’re told, bending over slightly and exposing your bare asscheeks to him. You lean your arms over the glass railing, your wrists going limp in doing so.

"’Like the view?" You ask, sparing him a glance over your shoulder in hopes to get a little more of a rise out of him.

"The view won’t mean much while I’m using you, honey."

Your face grows pale, a rush of static that felt like pinpricks crawls across your body. Jesus fuckin’ Christ, Ashton.

The excitement and rush of it all is now, finally, catching up to you. You were about to have meaningless sex with the person that means the most. In a way, it did feel like roleplay.

Except your role was pretending like you didn’t give a fuck about him.

"Gimme’ your wrist." You hear Ashton bark another command from behind you, along with the shuffling of fabric. Before you could even offer your wrist to him, he’s taking it upon himself to reach up and grab it.

He swiftly pins one of your arms behind your back, making you gasp and teeter on your feet.

"Ashton…" You try to say, but are immediately silenced by his other hand hooking a finger to the waistline of your panties.

"Don’t say another word, Y/N. You’re in no position to talk right now."

Your breath gets caught in your throat, now with your one free hand anchored to the railing. It was all a waiting game, and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t extremely turned on by him and his newfound unpredictability.

"I have a job for you." His voice rings in your ears, as he bends down above you to be parallel to your curved back. "…Think you could follow some orders f’me? Just for tonight?"

Just for tonight, you thought. Just for tonight.

You nod at his question. It was the only thing you were capable of doing, anyway.

"You’re gonna take my cock… But I don’t wanna hear a peep from that dirty mouth of yours. One fuckin’ sound and I swear… I’ll send you back downstairs with mascara running down your face and nothin’ to fuckin’ show for it."

You nod again. You were a nodding, blubbering mess.

"Think you could do that for me? Think you could be good enough for me to let you cum again?"

You nod, once again.

"And you told me what you wanted, right? Told me loud and clear how you wanted me to treat you? Out here— where there’s a small chance somebody could walk in on this?"

His pelvis presses against you as he taunts, and you’re left feeling even weaker in the knees.

This time, it wasn’t a nod. It was more of a sob.

"Good, good to know…" He softens his tone, lips now centimeters away from your ear.

"…Now bend the fuck over n’ let me use you like you’re nothing."

In a flash of vibrant colors swirling around the backs of your eyelids, you feel Ashton push your panties aside. He runs two fingers up your damp slit, bringing your face to a pinch.

You were still so sensitive after letting him have his way with you the first time. But you couldn’t fathom going another minute without the feeling of him buried inside of you.

"Please—" You whisper, but only to yourself.

You didn’t want to know what he’d do if he’d heard it.

His next movements were methodical, and slow, like he was a puppeteer playing with your strings. His hands dance along the sides of your hips, moving up to rub the small of your back.

He puffs out a breath, seemingly taking you in from behind.

"You're a fuckin' vision, Y/N... It's too bad you don't want me to treat you that way."

His ceaseless taunting was making your vision go shaky.

But you needed to keep reminding yourself... you fucking asked for it.

"Gonna let me use you, honey? Like my own personal doll... that I can toss around n' rough up... Mmm, 'bet you've been thinking about this for a while, haven't you?"

"Ashton..." You can help but let his name tumble from your lips. But in a flash, his hand is cracking down on your bare asscheek, creating a loud clap that you swore could be heard for miles. You let out a yelp, but quickly clamp your lips shut.

Your skin burns from the contact, your mouth going bone dry.

"What did I fucking say about that mouth of yours, Y/N? Not a fucking peep."

As he guides himself up and down your slit, collecting your juices on his leaky tip, you choke back the tears in your eyes. You still wanted nothing more than to turn around and kiss him, which was just a damned thing.

"So wet f'me... God, I'm in heaven."

It was almost as if each string of sentences that came out of his mouth were traveling in through one ear and right out of the other. I suppose this was your karma for being so demanding.

But this is what you wanted, wasn't it? Even though Ashton's means of 'fucking you like you're worthless' still came with bouts of praise, he couldn't help it. He was only human. Testing the waters for the both of you.

Roleplay.

He traces one last drag along your folds, pushing your panties aside with his tip before suddenly slamming himself into you. You gasp at the sudden feeling of him, your body lurching forward towards the railing as his grip on your wrist grows tighter.

"Jesus fuck—." He groans through bated breath before starting his rhythm of pounding into you.

It starts off slowly. The feeling of him filling you up as your walls clench around him must've felt like heaven to the both of you, for he let out a long, dreamy sigh. The hand that was once toying with the hemline of your lacy panties was now planted on the small of your back, using you as leverage as he slammed his cock deeper with each stroke.

Ashton hums, the sounds of slapping skin now engulfing the air around you. "Fuckin' love this pussy... Like it was fuckin' made for me..."

The air in your lungs started to dissipate, practically leaving you begging for mercy at his expense. Your body jolted with each of his deep thrusts, still trying to stay quiet and do exactly as he had demanded of you.

His grip on your wrist had begun to feel raw, surely to leave you with some kind of marking, reinstating the absolute chokehold he has on you.

"Ash..." You whisper again, as he's grunting and whining from behind you.

"Whose fuckin' pussy is this? Whose fuckin' pussy is this?" He asks the question and you whimper, unable to gather any syllable of a sentence on your tongue.

Suddenly, he releases your wrist, picking up his rhythm of fucking into you. Your arm drops to your side like a ragdoll, as you scramble to balance it next to your other on the railing.

The hand of his that once held your wrist captive had traveled down to meet his other, gripping your waist and digging his blistered fingertips into your flesh.

"Fuck... fuckin' shit, Y/N... Takin' my cock so well..."

Using his hands anchored to your waist, he starts to pull you into him, slamming your hips into his pelvic bone and hitting that sweet spot with every. Single. Stroke.

"Fuck, you’re heavenly…. My sweet, sweet girl…"

At this point in time, you could care less about the semantics of this all.

Although the point of this was for Ashton to have his way with you without a single feeling attached, it seemed as though he couldn’t really help it. He was a blubbering mess of compliments and praise, a true gentleman through and through.

But that was something to think about while you lay awake in bed tonight.

For now, you just decided to live in the moment.

Ashton’s rhythm had grown sloppy. He was awfully close to making you finish for a second time, with each buck of his hips— meanwhile it was taking every last bit of your consciousness to keep yourself quiet. The pit of your stomach squeezed with each primal sound that fell from his plush lips.

"M’gonna cum soon, honey… ‘Gonna fill you up, yeah? Would you like that? Want me t’fill you up?"

Unsure of whether or not to verbalize your consent, you nod. Like a bobble-head on a broken spring.

"That’s my girl. That’s— my fuckin’ girl.”

Despite Ashton’s imminent orgasm, you could only think about two words.

My girl. My girl. My girl

They were flashing around your mind like the billboards in the Manhattan streets below. Each thought of those two words produced vibrant colors behind your eyelids, stars now fogging up the blackness as he slams into you a few more times.

"Gonna' cum, honey... G-Gonna' fill you up, m'kay? Fuck..."

With one final pound into you, the pulsing throbbing of his cock had come to a slowdown. You both let out a collective gasp, as the heat ignited between your bodies had meshed into a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.

Ashton collapses onto your back, the front half of his body slicked with sweat and pressing into you. Your breathing had begun to sync up collectively, only for him to pull out of you and make your entire body jolt.

"Fuck, Ashton."

You were finally able to speak again. You had gotten your words back, as well as your confidence. And the feeling of his presence behind you was all you needed to get you there.

He huffs, finally lifting himself off of you. But you lag behind, taking a moment to collect your breathing as he pulls his sweatpants up.

"Jesus Christ, honey. You're a goddamn dream." He chuckles, stepping back and allowing you the space to turn around.

And that you did. Finally faced with that dream he was on about.

Sweaty, messy curls glued and rearranged to his forehead. Glossy, hooded, fucked-out eyes. The fabric of his Hawaiian shirt soaked with the mixing of your sweat and his.

He looked obscene. He looked ethereal. You wanted to tell him how absolutely picturesque he was in that moment. You wanted to give him every gorgeous compliment you could think of.

But you didn't. You couldn't.

So you said this instead.

"...It'd be a dream if you could grab my jeans."

"Don’t be impolite, Y/N. What's the magic word?" He teases, motioning towards your jeans that had been discarded in a pile on the patio.

"Oh, so now you want me to talk, tough guy? After you just fucked the goddamn life out of me?"

He shrugs, "I wouldn't say I fucked the life out of you... If that was the case, you wouldn't be standing upright."

You huff, frustrated, but loving every second of it.

"Just– grab me my damn jeans, Irwin."

He does as he's told, begrudgingly walking the short few feet to grab your jeans as you stand, cross-legged, bare-assed, with your back against the glass.

"Your majesty," he bows, holding your pants out on his arm like a knight with your crown.

"Thank you."

As you put on your jeans, Ashton watches you. With those whiskey, honeypot eyes. Scanning down every inch of you as you put one leg in, then the other.

"If it were up to me, I'd send you back down pants-less."

"Yeah, right." You scoff, reverting back to your old ways of a thumping heart and a pain in your chest, "You know how much trouble I'd be in?"

"Trouble by who? I'm your boss, aren't I?"

You puff, pulling up the zipper of your jeans, "You don't act like it."

"Want me to start then?" He quips.

"...No. Absolutely not."

Ashton tosses you a smile, not long before he's holding out his arms.

"That's what I thought, honey," he motions for you with his hands, "Now c'mere."

Without even thinking, almost as if it were rehearsed, you spin around, falling backwards into his arms. He wraps himself around you, broad biceps squeezing your shoulders like a butterfly in its' cocoon.

The Manhattan night sky was twinkling with lights and stars. You stare out into it, and he does too.

As you stand cradled in his arms with the lingering of pitiful, degrading sex still in the air, you sat in your thoughts for a moment.

What happened tonight couldn’t have been a mistake. You had been speaking it into existence for so long, that it finally became a reality. From the way he so passionately kissed you, to the way he so effortlessly dropped everything to fuck you like you were worthless. Just like you had asked. Just liked you had intended.

But you knew, despite everything that happened tonight, that not a single thing would change. 

Your heart would still flutter out of your ribcage whenever he walked by. You’d still answer his calls late at night, or spare him passing glances in the concert halls.

You’d still come to meet him, no matter when or where. All with that same, God awful weight on your chest.

It all made you feel terrible. Everything about him made you feel terrible.

But you were willing to get used to that feeling.

To be completely honest with yourself…

You kind of liked it. 

It felt like being in love

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

#ashton irwin #ashton #ashton 5 seconds of summer #5sos #5 seconds of summer #oh this is filth #what have i done #5sos fanfic #ashton irwin smut #5sos smut

[ivonhart]

the moon | steven grant x fem werewolf!reader

+ marc spector & jake lockley

— chapter five

| next

| previous

cross posted on ao3

gif credit: @paper-n-ashes

summary: You've always hated the moon. Hated the way it made your body bend and break into a new form every month. Hated the way it tied you to one of the many gods of it. But you couldn't hate what the moon connected you to...who it connected you to.

!! chapter warnings !!: Marc gets a lil slap across his face / dissociation / unintentional s*lf-harm

“Marc…please don’t push me away.” Your plea rang through Marc’s head every moment since he left you in that courtyard. He hated what he said to you. He hated your lack of presence. He hated Steven scolding him. But most of all…he hated himself. By the time he got to Cairo he was quick to begin nursing any bottle of alcohol he could get his hands on, anxiously awaiting the moment you showed up.

He had no doubts that you knew where he was heading and made the preparations. You always did manage to find your way back to him as he did you. Perhaps it was because of Khonshu, because of the work you both did, but maybe…just maybe it was something more. Something deeper.

The moment you reached Cairo you made your way to the hotel Marc was staying at. The bags underneath your eyes grew more and more with each passing day. You hadn’t had a solid sleep since Steven got attacked by Harrow and your body was suffering for it. You didn’t bother to knock on the door and Marc must’ve expected that because he didn’t budge the moment you stepped in.

A wave of smells assaulted your nose, causing it to curl up in disgust. Alcohol. “Marc?” Your voice shot through the silent room as loud as a bomb, but even so, Marc made no movement to your voice aside from a slight twitch of the head. “She looks bloody exhausted.” Steven whispered in Marc’s ear. Because of the Cairo heat you had to wear more revealing clothes, allowing Steven to finally look at the scar.

The scar he now knew some about. Marc didn’t have to check to know it was true. Along with remembering your words that night he also remembered how tired you looked. As Marc drowned in his thoughts you made your way in front of him, lightly kicking his outstretched foot.

“Marc, come on. Get your shit together so we can get ready to find Harrow in the morning.” Your blood lit on fire as you watched the man take another swing from the bottle he was holding. Not even giving a damn about the liquid that dripped onto his already damp, bare chest.

“I don’t need this shit right now. I’m so fucking tired and I can’t handle you wallowing in your pity party.” You kicked his foot again but with a little more power, the words you spoke coming out from between your clenched teeth. Your anger started to make your body feel hotter than it already was because of the heat.

To no one’s surprise, the man didn’t move. Opting to ignore both your words and Stevens’. A guttural growl passed your lips as you finally snapped. “FOR FUCK SAKE!” With a quick turn on your heel you disappeared into the bathroom and a few seconds later you came stomping back out. “Stop acting like a fucking child!”

You said as you yanked the man to his feet, paying no mind to the bottle that slipped from his fingers and shattered on the ground. With the unnatural strength you possessed, you pushed the man through the bathroom and into the shower that was provided before throwing clean clothes on the ground for him to use. “Now, get yourself cleaned up or so help me…” And with that you slammed the bathroom door and started cleaning the mess he made.

You were so consumed in your thoughts that you didn’t even notice the fact the shower had stopped running until you heard his voice. “I’m sorry.” Those words stopped you in your tracks. “What?” You softly asked with your back towards him. “I’m sorry…for what I said.” The glass you had in your hand suddenly pierced through your palm as you clenched your fists together.

The once large pieces breaking into small ones that dug into your skin. Slowly, you turned around with a look of disbelief across your face. “You’re…sorry?” You paid no mind to the warmth that flooded your hand for your mind was too clouded with rage. “FUCK YOU!” You shouted, causing the man to flinch and drop his head. The glass you held fell to the ground as you opened your palms with a growl.

“You don’t get to be sorry!” Marc refused to look at your eyes, causing you to send your hand across his face. “LOOK AT ME WHEN I’M TALKING TO YOU!” The furry you felt made it feel as though your body was on fire. The audacity of that man. When his eyes met yours you could see the shine of tears beginning to form, but you couldn’t care less. Not right now.

“You don’t get to say such things to me and be ‘sorry.’” At this point you were almost panting with how worked up you were. The urge to hurt him like he hurt you was overwhelming, causing the wolf to stir within your mind. Wanting…needing to attack anything due to the heightened aggression you felt.

“I have barely eaten or slept these last few days. I have been attacked by Jackals, concussed, SHOT, and have fucking Khonshu breathing down my neck the whole time. And all the while I was still on Steven’s heels making sure he, and you, didn’t get hurt. ” Steven had never seen you in such a state before. The pure rage that glimmered in your eyes made a shiver run down his spine as he watched through Marc.

Your frantic movements and bared fangs made you almost animalistic…like a wolf ready to fight. “And for you to have the audacity to say I didn’t do anything and I’d be better off dead.” Your mind was moving so fast you didn’t even register what you said until you said it. “It hurt. It hurt so fucking much because of how I care about you.”

A bitter laugh came from your lips as you dropped your head. “In a way not appropriate for just ‘friends.’ If that’s what we even are.” Marc’s eyes widened at the confession. His cheeks grew warm and his heart squeezed in a way he never felt. But, before he could say anything you spoke again. “I don’t want to hear your damn apology.” Your voice was quiet now…almost a whisper.

The exhaustion you felt caused your eyesight to go hazy as any strength you had left disappeared from your outburst. You were running on fumes at this point. “I bet you only said it to appease Steven. He is the best of us.” Marc saw how your body started swaying back and forth and when you tried to reach out you slapped his hand away.

Your hand was fully covered in blood now from the lack of pressure to stop the flow. Not even looking at him as you did. “Don’t fucking touch me.” Despite the soft tone you had, it still shot Marc through the heart. You always reach for him first to hold and now…nothing. Wordlessly, you walked past the man and into the bathroom, leaving a trail of blood droplets along the way.

-

The moment you closed the bathroom door, you collapsed against the nearest wall. Any energy you could’ve had disappeared as you cupped your wounded hand against your chest. Because of the small bits of glass that dug into your skin, your healing abilities were unable to take effect.

So…now you sat in the bathroom with glazed over eyes and a clouded mind, haphazardly digging around in your hand in search of the glass after you dropped your hand to the cold ground. You’re not sure how long you were in there before you heard a soft knock on the door.

A gentle knock that pulled you, slightly, from your dissociated state. “Love?” Love…Steven. It was Steven. You felt your body lightly jolt at the sound of his voice but you made no attempt to move. It was if your body had molded with the ground you found yourself on. The cold tile freezing you in place as the weight you carried crushed you down.

That’s when you heard him again…calling your name. It was faint, fading in and out from the ringing in your ears. Then the pain in your chest began as your eyes stayed forward. It was as if someone reached their hand down your throat and took hold of your heart. Squeezing just enough to make it feel like you couldn’t breathe. You could hear his pleads but they sounded distant.

“Let me in, please. I don’t know how much longer I can keep the body.” Your throat began to close as you heard cries in the distance. Was Steven crying? Why was he crying? Then the wetness came. It rolled down your cheeks and began gathering on your shirt, yet you stayed glued to the spot. You were crying.

Steven could hear it. The sobs that tore through your throat as if it cut you from the inside. That’s when he saw the blood. Without another thought, the man pushed the door open and a gasp left his mouth at the sight of you. There you were…propped up against the wall next to the door, barely breathing as tears flooded down your cheeks whilst cries left your lungs.

And your hands. One peeling the skin apart on the hand you smashed the glass with, resulting in blood to spill across the ground that carried the shards of glass once stuck within. Steven could taste bile in his throat at the exposed layers of skin you clawed apart, but he pushed any nausea aside and jumped into action.

Quickly, the man grabbed the first aid kit and tore your hand away from the wound. That’s when your eyes slowly moved over to meet his…but they weren’t the same ones he remembered. They were vacant, distant, devoid of any light he once saw and so puffy he thought your eyes would become swollen shut. He called your name again, but you simply stared at him. Looked through him as if he wasn’t even there.

“It’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.” Steven’s whispers broke through the fog that clouded your senses and made you realize he was actually here. Actually tending to the wound you inflicted upon yourself. You choked out the man’s name between your sobs as you fell into his arms.

The moment you consumed yourself within his warmth and sent your sobs turned into wails. He knew that the weight of everything that had happened collided within you the moment he wrapped his arms around you. So now matter how hard you held him or how wet you made his shirt, the man refused to push you away.

He wasn’t going to do what Marc had done. Your shivering body was pulled into Steven’s lap as he encased you in him. You got as close as you could to the man and with each passing minute your wails grew quieter and quieter until, eventually, you sat quietly on his lap as he finished bandaging your wound.

Your eyes began to droop as the exhaustion finally caught up to you and as you let yourself fall into a peaceful state between sleep and awareness, something shifted in the man behind you. His smell changed. Changed to a scent unfamiliar to you. But, any thoughts seemed to slip from your mind as the man picked you up and carried you to the bed.

With your senses clouded with sleep you reached towards the closest thing that carried the scent of the men you adored so much. As you pulled the shirt you latched on to, the man watched from the foot of the bed. His hard eyes turned soft at the sight of you finally being able to relax. “Descansa ahora.” Rest now.

-

a/n: JAKE MENTIONED *crowd goes wild* In my first version of this story I had the reader forgive Marc crazy quickly but I thought it'd be better for the reader to snap. Anyway, our girl is going absolutely THROUGH IT (it's gonna get worse :3)

taglist: @n1ght5h4d3-24 / @sunipostsstuff / @blackholegladiator / @ajeff855 / @daughterofthequeen / @faefanatic / @dropdeadbec / @sgt-morgan / @milk-bulb / @dev-angeline / @griffinkid2187 / @mxltifxnd0m / @badbishsblog / @local-mr-frog / @khaleesihavilliard / @rmoonstoner / @thewinterv / @oscarissac2099

#steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant imagine #marc spector #marc spector x reader #marc spector imagine #jake lockley #jake lockley x reader #jake lockley imagine #moon knight #moon knight x reader #moon knight imagine

[rowretro]

𝕄𝔼𝕋𝔸𝕃 𝕄𝔼𝔼𝕋𝕊 𝕃𝕆𝕍𝔼

✧taglist✧: @baevsxii @nikisdubblchococake @manooffline

✧warnings: Yandere themes, toxic themes, unhealthy love, mentions of blood, kissing

♡synopsis: Nishimura Riki. The Robot created by Yang Jungwon himself, a robot that is insanely human like, inside and out. No one could tell he was a robot. However, the Robot had possessed demonly powers, from Satan himself. So I guess you could see it's a half robot. Yang y/n, the younger sister of Jungwon finds herself stuck to this robot 24/7 no matter what she tried, he will always be by her because she's his muse, his world, his love, his obsession.

(PART 3)

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

Saturday night. A time to party to one's heart's content, and drink like there's no tomorrow, make bad mistakes that you won't regret while under the influence. While everyone was out, Y/n was stuck in a big bedroom, cuff to her wrist. The other to the headboard. Y/n sighed. The chain was long enough for her to go to the joint restroom in her bedroom, so at least she can move about a little bit.

"Y'know... us humans call this kidnapping." Y/n said as the robot didn't even glance back at her. "Well I'm not human so this isn't kidnapping." He coldly said as Y/n groaned at his response. "You can't keep me chained like this forever" She added as the Robot's head turned to face her, his eyes staring intensely into hers. "But I can." He said as he slipped on a sweater. Riki wasn't planning on keeping her chained up forever, but he really needed to enforce his security system.

"Kay... I'm pretty sure it works." Jungwon simply said as he descended from the small ladders. Hearing this, Riki walked back into the bedroom, his hands uncuffing her easily as she stood up and stretched her arms, running out of the bedroom. "What the fuck are on the doors and windows?" Y/n asked as Jungwon threw her a pitiful look. "Sorry... I had no choice... Riki bot wanted this new security system enforced..." Jungwon said as the girl screamed into a cushion. "To be fair, you hid a lot from me. Why didn't you tell me about those perverted motherfuckers???" Jungwon asked as Y/n started smacking the robot with the cushion, Riki remaining unfazed by the soft attack.

Jungwon eventually left the room. Around 27 minutes passed, and Y/n finally got exhausted, using the cushion as her pillow, and Riki as her bed. The robot smirked to himself as he twirled her hair. "Look at you, you're already so used to being mine~" The male smiled. Hearing him say this, Y/n pulled away roughly. "No! never- ew- Leave me alone freak. I wouldn't have hated you to this extent if you took over the world and waged war with your metal friends." She exclaimed as Riki stared at her.

"Metal friends? more robots?" Riki asked as Y/n scoffed. "Like I'd want anymore of you to exist, I wish you never existed idiot. I meant microwaves, toasters yada yada yada" Y/n sassed as she walked off. That sass wasn't going to last long though, Riki had a lovely plan up his sleeve. A plan that will have her calling his name out, heck she'll be screaming for him.

"NISHIMURA RIKI GET YOUR ASS HERE!!!!" Y/n screamed as the robot appeared within seconds. There in the shower was Y/n covered in soap, therefore unable to open her eyes. "The shower stopped- make it work!" she exclaimed as Riki yawned. "But I don't feel like helping you." He said, sounding unbothered by her troubles. "NI-KI bot?" she asked as the robot yawned yet again. "Ugh what do you want me to do then?!!!" She asked, annoyed, the soap making it's way into her mouth, as she spluttered it out, onto poor Riki's shirt.

"Let me take you out on what you humans call a date..." He asked as Y/n immediately agreed. That moment, he switched on the shower, kissed her forehead and walked out of the shower. The very moment he walked out of the shower, Jungwon saw him, he could hear y/n singing in the shower, putting 2 and 2 together, he held his head. "NI-KI bot. please learn to make a good impression to your sister's brother... I'm not just your creator- Im also your uh- y/n- girlfriend? yeah your girlfriend's brother." He warned as Riki just ignored him.

Y/n dried her hair as she walked out of the shower, dressed in some comfortable clothes. She walked down the stairs squealing in shock when a tiny clunk of metal started yapping at her. Riki snickerred as he saw the way Y/n hopped onto the sofa, refusing to let herself near the tiny metal pup. "I found it in a shop-" He simply said as Y/n frowned. "One robot replica of a living creature is enough thanks. get that thing out of here!" She exclaimed as Riki immediately crushed it with is bare fists.

"WHA- I- NOT KILL IT- I MEANT RETURN IT-" Y/n facepalmed as she walked away from him. Robots are a lot more work than one would think. Specifically this handsome freak of a Robot Cyborg. However, he's undeniably handsome. While he was charging, Y/n couldn't help, but gently trace his soft, human like skin with her finger. Her index finger stopping at his lips. Pretty, plump lips. The girl pulled away a ran out of the room, finding herself crazy for even finding that robot attractive... but facts aside, he seems so human. A psychotic human to be exact.

✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧♡✧

#yandere #enhypen #enha #yandere enha #yandere enhypen #enhypen yandere #enha yandere #kpop #kpop enha #nishimura riki #niki nishimura #enhypen niki #enhypen nishimura riki #riki enhypen #niki enhypen #niki enha #kpop yandere #enhypen scenarios #enha imagines #enhypen imagines #enha x reader #enhypen x reader #enhypen fanfic #ni ki #enhypen ff #engene #enhypen fluff #niki reaction #ni ki enhypen #enhypen niki ff

[mindofharry]

Stay for something | hunger games!harry

part 1

It was cold.

Harry opened his eyes and grunted trying to move his foot. He could barely move his toes. He looked around him, breathing heavily. Above him was rock and around was more rock. Beside him, lay a bow and arrow and sleeping Y/N. His breath caught in his throat as he looked her up and down, she looked exhausted.

“You’re awake,” She whispered, sitting up quickly grabbing a package she had received from Lila. It had some sort of healing cream in it. She quickly took the lid off and smiled.

“Cream. It should help with the wound,” Y/N explained, taking the makeshift bandage she put on Harry’s foot off. He gritted his teeth as he looked at.

“What happened?” Harry finally asked, as Y/N spread the cream around his foot.

“You passed out when I got you out of the trap. Had to drag you around for hours, great work out,” She teased, wiping her hands in her jacket.

“You dragged me around, you helped me?”

Y/N bit her lip, “Yep!”

Harry almost growled.

“I have been awful to you. You should’ve left me to die,” Harry grumbled, Y/N rolled her eyes.

“No time for a pity party. We can help each other,”

Harry raised an eyebrow and pointed to his foot.

Y/N grinned picking up two make shift crutches, “Aren’t they cute?” She said, standing up.

“And you made me crutches? Fucking hell,” Harry mumbled, pushing himself up the cave wall.

“You’ll come in handy eventually, have to keep you well,”

A crunch came from outside and Y/N immediately grabbed her bow.

“Is he ok?”

Y/N let out a breath and nodded with a smile, holding out her hand for this young, pale boy to take it.

“This is Miles, or Milo,” Y/N introduced.

“You know I hate when you call me Milo,”

Harry cleared his throat.

“Sorry, he’ll be tagging along with us. Smartest kid ever,” Y/N said.

Miles and Y/N helped Harry out of the cave and gave him the crutches.

“The cream should start working soon, once you feel better ditch the crutches,” Miles said, walking infront of Y/N and Harry.

“So you have a cripple and a baby on your team?” Harry joked. Y/N giggled, shaking her head.

“In my opinion, I think I have the best people in my team,” Y/N replied, looking Harry in his very green eyes.

Harry shook his head.

“You’re too nice,”

She hummed.

“I’m honest,” She replied.

After travelling for a bit, they reached a lake. Harry was eventually able to ditch the crutches and wash his wound in the lake. He felt like a new person. Y/N ran into the lake and pretended like she wasn’t a tribute, that she was on vacation with her friends, swimming in the secret lake they found.

Miles had caught some fish for dinner and called everyone back.

Y/N got out of the lake and tied her hair up. Harry couldn’t help but look at her. Her hips, curves, God those breasts. Her nipples were poking through her shirt and Harry wanted to kiss up her body and take her nipples into his mouth.

Miles nudged him smirking, “Cut the fish up, Lover Boy,”

Y/N jogged over to their camp, “Smells good boys,”

She sat down beside Harry and took a bit out of the fish.

“10/10, Milo,” Y/N said, her thumbs up. Miles flipped her off.

“I’m going to sleep. Wake me for my watch,” Miles warned.

Y/N laughed, “Never,”

He trotted off into the forest.

And then there were two.

“This is good,” Y/N said.

Harry couldn’t take his eyes off of her lips.

“I’ve had better,” He mumbled.

��What is could taste better than this fish. It’s amazing,” Y/N questioned.

“Do you really want me to answer that?” He smirked.

Y/N caught his drift and blushed, looking down at the fish left over.

“Right..” She trailed off.

“I think it’s the best taste ever,” Harry said, moving closer to Y/N.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah,”

They were closer than ever. Their breaths hitting each others cheeks. Harry hand went further up her thigh.

And then a scream came.

And a canon.

Y/N’s eyes widened.

“Miles,”

#harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfic #hunger games!harry

[luveline]

HELLO can we pretty pleaseeeeee get a such a strange girl + candy apples with rockstar!eddie where it halloween and eddie has a concert but reader forgets and when she arrives at the concert its like 15 minutes away from ending and she expects eddie to be mad but eddie already expected it

join luveline's halloween party ��

hi tysm for ur request! fluff with rockstar!eddie x fem!ditzy!reader

Scatterbrained you may be, but this feels downright mean. You can't believe you'd forgotten about Eddie's show tonight, too distracted by the snack banquet you'd been preparing for the movie he'd promised to watch with you afterward.

What could be better? Day of the Dead with a table of queasy, scary snacks. Eyeballs made of peeled grapes, pastry snakes, zombie fingers and spider biscuits. Your table shines with Halloween confetti and jelly reds. Everything's awesome. And then you think, I can't wait for Eddie to see all this.

Eddie.

Your apartment is a fifteen minute bike ride from the venue. You don't have time to lock it up outside, so you hide it behind a fierce looking bouncer and wield your ticket at him.

"Little late?" he asks knowingly.

"Just a bit!" you call.

The venue's big but not big enough for second security. You rush past the foodstands and past the glass doors into the main floor, eyes wide and lifted up toward the stage. Eddie won't ever be able to see you here, you’re miles from the stage.

You sulk at your own ineptitude. You feel sorry for yourself, for missing out on his spooky show, and you feel sorry for your boyfriend, who'd deserved a partner that cheered them on the whole way through.

He holds court on the left side of the stage, a dripping picture of handsomeness. Long, dark hair pitch black with sweat and curls shining in the lights like its been dotted with a thousand tiny stars. Hands you know better than your own race up and down the body of his guitar. His passion this far into a show is impressive, and it snaps you out of your self-pity.

"Woo!" you scream. Nobody seems startled at your sound, the venue packed and pounding with reverb. "Eddie, I love you!"

You giggle as you scream it. You're likely not the only girl to say that tonight.

Twenty minutes later the shows drawn to a close and you're trying to convince some guy in a dark sweatshirt that Eddie's actually your boyfriend. No you're not delusional. Yes, Eddie the guitarist.

You’re halfway into a spiel about how you should have a vip badge, yes, but you were super late because you were busy making eyeballs, to the security guards confusion, when a familiar chuckle echos from behind.

You spin. “Oh, good! Tell this guy you’re my boyfriend.”

Eddie pulls you by the arm into his chest. “I think he might’ve guessed,” he says, giving your forehead a kiss. He absolutely smells like sweat as one would expect, sweat and deodorant and hairspray, and you like it more than you’ll say.

He gives you a quick hug over the shoulders and then holds you back, both hands on you. Fingers behind your ears, thumbs rubbing over your cheeks, Eddie asks, “What’s wrong with you?”

You look away from his puppy eyes toward his chest. “I’m sorry. I lost track of time… I didn’t see all of the show. I didn’t really see half.”

“That’s why you’re upset?”

You chance a look back up, expecting scorn or at least a rugged kind of exhaustion and finding nothing of the sort. His pretty, perfect mouth is pulled up into a smile.

His thumb drags over your cheek. “You think I didn’t guess you’d be late tonight? After all those snacks you planned?” Eddie had watched you pen down ideas in a notebook for hours. “I’m just glad you made it, baby. Did I look good?”

“You looked fucking amazing,” you tell him honestly.

You both laugh, happy huffs of breath as he drags your face toward his.

“Thank you,” he says, tilting his head to one side to kiss the side of your nose. “You turned off the stove, right?”

“Maybe. I left my bike outside, though, so we should hurry.”

He laughs hard and tips his head back, gifting you a generous look at his jaw. “What are we waiting for?” he asks as he recovers, hands falling down to clasp your hands. “Let’s go.”

#luveline's halloween party #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #rockstar!eddie munson #rockstar!eddie

[astroluvr]

How to Say Sorry

summary: a continuation of the college!jack au!

a/n: this is a pretty short blurb, but if you'd like to see more of college!jack, feel free to send in requests!

***

You had been upset with Jack before. You had been upset when he convinced you to skip your morning class one day to go to some tailgate and you missed an important lecture. You had been upset when he set the both of you behind on a project because he wanted to study at the greasiest burger nook he could find. You had even been upset when he took you to a party that you hated.

Jack knew how to fix any of that, though, when he mumbled an apology into your neck and trying to fit himself into your tiny dorm bed. He was good at that, and it made him almost want to make you upset.

What he was no good at, however, was making you forgive him when you were mad. And you were mad. He couldn't get you to answer your phone or answer your text, and when he figured out that he wasn't blocked, it made it worse. When he showed up at your dorm that you had to yourself most nights, you would let him knock on the door until someone finally came out and shooed him away.

It had been an entire week since he talked to you, which was the longest it had been since your freshman and he asked you for help on his paper. He hadn't kissed you in a week and three days, which is the longest it had been since he couldn't remember when.

It felt oddly like being homesick.

Jack had exhausted each and every resource he had. He had tried talking to your friends who had no idea of what relationship you had, but even they told him that you were in a bad mood. When he tried talking to you after or before class, you were quick to find a crowd and hustle away from him.

Jack was nearing his wit's end until he was sitting on the couch while his roommates were practically writing their next noise complaint while playing a video game.

He got their attention when he stood off the couch quickly, earning several glances.

"What the fuck?" Urban side-eyed his tall friend as Jack snatched his wallet and keys off the counter. "Hey, where you going?"

"Nowhere."

"Can you bring me back a soda?"

"I won't be back tonight." he told him before disappearing towards the foyer, and Urban looked back at their roommates. "He's fucking weird."

Jack arrived at the bookstore just a few blocks off campus and nearly stumbled out of his car as he walked up to the doors. He knew the hours well, he'd spent plenty of nights waiting directly outside. When he went to tug at the doors, he was shocked to find that they were locked. A good two minutes after close.

"Fuck." he huffed.

You were a rule follower, he knew that well, so to have the doors locked up this early meant that you weren't the one locked them. Before he gave up, he caught the familiar sweater you wore on nights like this- muggy with thick, cold air. Just looking at you made him feel a lot warmer than he was.

Startling you with the loud banging against the window, you turned around with wide eyes and dropped the books you were holding before frowning and shaking your head.

"Let me in!" he yelled, knocking on the window to the point where it made the person closing the coffee shop next door yelp. "Sorry, my friend is... she locked me out."

The other didn't say anything as they made their way to their car, leaving Jack to press his forehead to the glass.

"Come on. Let me apologize."

"I don't want your apology." you yelled back, approaching the door with a frown. "So you can go back and tell her how dumb I am."

"I wasn't thinking when I told her all that. I- fuck, I don't know."

"Go home, Jack." you told him, meeting his bleary eyed gaze with a cold one. "I'm done with you."

Jack didn't hesitate before getting to his knees, setting down the bouquet and box of chocolates that you didn't notice he had until it was under the light outside the doors. He looked up at you through the glass with a pitiful frown and his glasses slightly crooked. He hardly ever wore his glasses- to a point where only you and a few other people on campus even knew he wore them.

"Y/N, I'm begging you, please let me in. Let me tell you that I'm an idiot and I don't deserve to have you and that I-"

You startled him when you unlocked the door and furrowed your eyebrows. Your unwavering expression told Jack that you weren't letting him off the hook just yet- that he'd have to earn it with a lot more than some lost puppy act and pretty flowers.

Even though, when he came in and towered over you, you realized that they were your favorite.

When Jack met the warmth of the shop, he couldn't help but stand less than six inches away, his hands practically twitching with the desire to touch your side the way he always did.

"Got you these." he mumbled, and you took the grand bouquet silently.

"Thank you, but I thought you were here to apologize."

"I am. I mean, I just wanted to give you this stuff first."

"Right, but-"

"These chocolates, too. The ones we tried when we were walking that day." you took those ones, but made sure you didn't smile in excitement. "And this book. You said your manager won't order the books and you wanted to read it."

"Alright, thank you. Now, you were supposed to tell me how awful it is to tell the girl you're fucking about how depressing it is to be around the other girl you're fucking."

Jack ducked his head and nodded, licking his lips and stammering. "I don't know how to say sorry for something like that. It's stupid that I did something like that to begin with, but I am sorry. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

"Why would you tell her that in the first place?" you shook your head and Jack shrugged. "Why do you care so much about people knowing that you know me?"

"I don't know. I guess, I just like what we have."

"You like having a secret."

"We fuck! I don't want to air that out." he scoffed, and you shook your head.

You swallowed, maintaining your glare through your hurt. Jack had said many times before that he didn't need anything beyond a friends with benefits situation, so you weren't sure why you expected much more than that from him.

"I don't think it's the worst thing in the world for people to know that we do more than study together - that we hang out, at least, I mean. I like being your friend, Jack, and if I don't feel like I have a friend in you, then I don't want to be around you."

"If you want me to tell people that you're my best friend in the world, Y/N, I will."

"It's not about what I want, it's about why you wouldn't tell people that you know me for more than the girl who's helping you pass philosophy, so you can stay on the soccer team. Why you're ashamed of me."

"I'm not ashamed of you." Jack protested quickly, stepping closer to you and pulling you towards him by your hips when you stepped back, all of his thoughtful gifts falling to the ground.

"I don't care anymore, Jack." you shrugged, trying to ignore how good he smelled or how nice it was to feel him touch you again.

"You don't have to care, I do." he whispered, looking down at you and adjusting his glasses as if nothing over the past ten minutes was more important than seeing you. "I don't know how to apologize for that dumb shit I did, but I'm not going to forget about it if you forgive me. I want you all to myself. I don't want to keep you a secret, Y/N, I want everyone to know that I have the one person they can't. That's really selfish of me, but I don't care."

"It is." you mumbled, feeling lightheaded in his presence. "And I don't forgive you, you'll have to earn my trust all over again, but... I appreciate your apology."

"I don't expect you to forgive me. You shouldn't forgive me, really, but I don't know, Y/N. I'm willing to put in all the work I have to."

"Really?" you egged, your hand sliding to his wrist on your hip.

"I promise you." he whispered, his eyes flicking from your lips to your eyes. "I just want you."

You didn't say anything before you moved your other hand to his neck, scratching the nape of his neck as you encouraged him closer.

"You get one last chance, Harlow."

"That's all I need." he promised, moving his hands from your hips to your ass. "Let me show you."

#college!jack #jack harlow #jack harlow x reader #jack harlow au #jack harlow fanfiction #jack harlow angst #jack harlow fluff #fanfiction #im not done crafting their story but these blurbs r very fun

[swagcoolcat]

RANDOM THINGS FROM BE MORE CHILL BROADWAY THAT I REALLY LIKE: CLIPS

(Note before we begin, LGW and MitB aren’t from Broadway here. LGW is from off Broadway, and MitB is from a rehearsal. I couldn’t get Broadway versions, and I can’t clip longer than a minute, so that’s how I tried to resolve that.)

Act 1:

The SQUIP telling the audience not to record (x)

Jeremy looking exhausted the moment he walks onto the stage (x)

The bus effect during More Than Survive (x)

The way Christine acts when Jeremy is singing about her, 1. (x) and 2. (x)

Jeremy seeming to agree with Christine’s ‘touch of ADD’ (x)

“There’s also a part of me that wants to do this!” (x)

Mr Reyes explaining the play (x)

Jake slapping his bicep (x)

“Leave me alone, I’ve had a bad day!” (x)

Rich flopping onto his back and Jeremy leaving him there to die (x)

Jeremy quietly whispering “drugs” (x)

Michael’s whole thing with Crystal Pepsi (x)

Michael’s shimmies during “cool in college” (x)

Michael’s body rolls, More Than Survive (x), Two Player Game (x), The Play (x)

The spin thing Jeremy and Michael do at the end of Two Player Game (x)

The box of squips being the only light source on stage (x)

Intro to BMC Part 1 (x)

Jeremy exaggerating while following the SQUIP’s directions (x)

“LOOKANG PRETTAY SEXAY BROOKUH” (x)

Chloe breaking a hanger at the mention of Madeline’s name (x)

“She is a life 👏 ru 👏 in 👏 er 👏 uh 👏” (x)

Brooke slapping Jeremy with her straw (x)

Jeremy trying to floss (x)

Chloe kicking away Christine’s backpack (x)

The whole Bowling Alley Performance Art scene (x)

Jeremy lifting Christine toward the end of A Guy That I’d Kinda Be Into (x)

“Eminem is dead?!” (x)

“I’m tired of being the person that everyone thinks that I am” round (x)

“Sever your ties, or you both drown.” (x)

All of Loser Geek Whatever (x)

Act 2:

Brooke talking about why she likes Halloween (x)

“Right, I’m Prince!” (x)

The SQUIP dancing with the students during Halloween (x)

Chloe falling backwards onto Jake’s parents’ bed (x)

The SQUIP face planting onto the bed (x)

“Yeah, unless you use it like you!” (x)

“I’m having my period!” (x)

All of Michael in the Bathroom (x)

Christine talking about her feelings on her costume (x)

“Seriously, where the FUCK can I get some Mountain Dew Red?!” (x)

Christine’s pucking pun (x)

Christine and Jeremy vocally stimming (x)

Christine simply saying no, followed by ‘I’m sorry’ instead of explaining why she turned Jeremy down (x)

The SQUIP entering with a “hello, Jeremy” after Jeremy’s had the worst night of his life (x)

Rich making the choice to burn the house down (x)

Brooke throwing her banana during the smartphone hour (x)

George Salazar and Jason Sweettooth William’s entrance in the Smartphone Hour (x)

“A house party? You took my car to a house party? And the house BURNED DOWN?!” (x)

Jeremy getting angry with his dad (x)

Michael being visibly uncomfortable during the pants song (x)

The whole “say it like you mean it” thing (x)

Mr Heere flashing Michael, then the neighborhood (x)

“WAAAAIIIIT!!! How? Are you? Doing? Today?” (x)

Jenna’s vocals during The Pitiful Children (x)

Michael mocking Jeremy during the play (x)

Jeremy flipping off his SQUIP (x)

Michael being punched in the face twice during the play, by Jeremy (x), and by Jenna (x)

The arm crawl thing Rich does on Michael (x)

Christine’s SQUIP being Ruth Bader Ginsburg (x)

Everyone dancing together at the end of Voices in my Head (x)

Tags:

@emotional-moss @silksong-when @happistar @thesquirrelqueer @stoptestingme @cleanupyourlooks

Final notes:

I’m sorry this took me so long! Even after collecting all the clips, it was just really tedious to organize them and list them, and at one point I accidentally closed the app without saving so I lost a ton of progress. Plus, I’ve just been kinda busy. But! It’s here now!

If you’d like any other moments from the show clipped, I can do that for you! I can also clip most (not all) of these from a different video that’s not from closing night. This one zooms in on the characters more, so I’d be able to get clearer shots. Just let me know, I’ll grab it for you, no problem, as long as it’s not closing night exclusive.

Thanks for your patience, and I hope you enjoy!

#be more chill #bmc #long post

[tiredstressedemotionalmess]

sometimes i think about party poison + sleep

(don't know why but i'm watching saw and considering things)

OHHHHH ME WHEN MARTYRDOM AND CONFRONTING DEATH. VERSE ONE IS ABOUT THEM AND THE CITY AND BC VENOM SIBLINGS BRAIN ITS THE WAY THEY FOUGHT TO PROTECT KOBRA WHILE THEY WERE STILL IN THERE "THERE AINT NO WAY THAT IM SORRY FOR WHAT I DID" = THEIR REFUSAL TO ADMIT THAT THEIR EFFORTS TO PROTECT KOBRA ALSO ENDED UP HURTING HIM IN THE LONG RUN. and the "undeserving of your sympathies" is soooo party poison bc they think they are a Horrible Fucking Person and they refused to be pities for the shit theyve been through bc they failed at protecting kobra and they failed at saving him and they know deep down they dont deserve to be the hero which is why they try so hard to be exactly that

AND THEN THE CHORUS IS JUST LIKE. LIKE IM IMAGING THEIR FINAL THOUGHTS WHILE SAVING THE GIRL AND MAYBE THEY CAN SEE KOBRA PANICKING TRYING TO GET TO THEM OR THEY JUST KNOW IF THE OTHERS SURVIVE THEYLL ALL BE DEVASTATED AND THEY JUST WANNA SCREAM "NO!!! DONT MOURN ME DONT CRY FOR ME DONT GIVE YOURSELVES UP TO TRY AND SAVE ME IM DYING FOR YOU. I FAILED TO KEEP YOU SAFE SO THE LEAST I CAN DO IS DIE, YES TO GIVE YOU MORE TIME BUT MORE THAN THAT BECAUSE I FUCKING DESERVE IT"

and then ohhhhhhh it works so well with one of my favorite interpretations of partys death where they just. give up. theyre exhausted and they know they have to die a hero because its their destiny its their purpose theyre supposed to protect their family to the end and if it doesnt end here then whats the fucking point? its like they view themself as a character in a way and they need their story to end like this because they cant make sense of a world where they aren't giving up their everything to save the ones they love. and maybe if they fought harder theyd be able to overpower korse and get away or stall until kobra comes to save them but they dont. they need their story to end here so they just shut their eyes and they kiss the world goodbye and chose to sleep. and they tell themself they arent being selfish because theyre dying for their family, but deep down they know that this isnt doing anything to distract the other crows or but anyone any more time. deep down they know theyre just tired and they want to fucking sleep.

and idk i just love thinking about a world where they spend their whole life certain that theyll sacrifice their life for someone else, only to die in the most selflessly selfish way possible. they couldnt even end their own story right

#asks #party poison

[ovaruling]

negative self talk incoming for whoever needs that idek

regular daily update that i regret having my like 99999 cosmetic surgeries so much and i dont even want to put the exhaustive energy into accepting my face and body atp anymore bc they remain utter strangers who i hate

and despite all of the feminist theory i have read and comprehended and applied to the way i see the world i STILL cannot rid myself of this very specific form of self-hatred and im not even being defeatist when i say i truly know that i will never be at peace bc of the choices i have made. like how can i ever be ok with this. i’d have to be lobotomized to be cool with this

and even besides that the chronic physical pain and damage to my actual nervous system won’t allow me a moment of forgetfulness. like on an amazing day where i’m full of caffeine or xanax i can MAYBE forget what i look like for an hour but it’s impossible to forget that i literally cant physically feel my entire torso and abdomen and buttocks and my upper back and my inner thighs and upper arms and underarms and my jaw and cheeks

but also at the same time i can feel incredible levels of stabbing numb shocks of pain in all of them lmfao.

exercising helps for a bit and reminds me that i can at least move my body around but i always gotta come back to reality where i have to confront that i’m genuinely permanently ill and legitimately brain damaged. like neurologically

and bc of that i went from being a normal adult 10 years ago to now i cant hold a job, cant go back and attend school, cant drive a car anymore, need IV treatments weekly, no independence, no ability to even volunteer for longer than an hour at local animal shelters before i start having problems bc i cant explain to anyone why i need to lie down every 2 hours or else i legitimately go numb and pass out no matter how little exertion im doing, no future where i can help the world the way i want to. i cant even read 2 chapters of a fucking favorite book that i LOVE without getting dizzy for no fuckjng reason. i have to REST from reading a fucking BOOK

and doctors are just like “oh well that’s what happens when you fucking almost die two times from elective surgery lol kinda your fault tbh. you really should’ve just accepted how viciously hated by men your body was. but the human body is so mysterious huh!!! like this is crazy dude lmao. 🤪 so yeah here’s a pamphlet for a support group that doesn’t really fit your needs and some medication that won’t work bc we still don’t really know how to diagnose or treat plastic surgery victims like this bc technically you weren’t in a car crash or anything so we don’t really have enough research rn to fully apprehend what’s going on w your mysterious ass. also you had more surgeries than most ppl ever will be stupid enough to undertake so like we have no idea what to do w you lol!!!!!! there isn’t really data that fits your situation but maybe in 30 years 😌”

just in case anyone was wondering if i changed my mind on cosmetic surgery being true evil!!!!!! lol

ok sorry for the pity party i just really am feeling the weight of it all rn

#im not gonna kms or anything but i still do look forward to the day i die #nothingness will be such a relief #im not looking for advice btw i’m just venting sorry #anti cosmetic surgery

[justmultifandom]

Kidge summer event

Day 29: Kids

Keith didn't know what bothered him more: Pidge's death grip on his hand, his mind constantly reminding him to stay calm, Lance's threats about not showing up to the speech of the tenth party in honor of Allura's death and the end of the war, Hunk's texts surely asking what happened and why they were late and missed the speech and if they were coming for dinner anyway, or Shiro's calls making his phone vibrate in his pocket in an annoying way. Of course they hadn't come to the full coalition speech, and they certainly wouldn't have come to the dinner, but they had a good excuse—a very good excuse.

After all, it wasn't Allura's fault for deciding to sacrifice herself in the heat of August ten years ago, but it was Lance's fault for deciding to give a long speech that every ex-paladin had to recite in the cool mid-morning in Altea, but it certainly wasn't Pidge's fault that her waters broke shortly after departing Earth. It didn't make it better that Keith had completely forgotten to text all their friends who should be away, at least the constant vibration in his pocket from his phone and text messages would have taken pity on him.

Pidge squeezed Keith's hand again as another contraction hit her, closing her eyes and pushing. At that moment she should have been at that damn commemoration reciting a speech on the end of the war ten years ago, looking at the statue of Allura and maybe moved thanks to her hormones at the ball, why not? Instead, she was in the delivery room at the Space Hospital pushing a baby out of her body, feeling almost as if she'd been torn in two. She stopped pushing when the contraction ended, resting her head on the pillow and breathing slowly, her forehead clammy and her breathing ragged. Keith brushed damp strands from her forehead, kissing her hand softly stroking it with his thumb.

“You will make it”: he smiled sweetly: “You always resist everything, you will overcome this too…”

“Fuck you…”: She gritted her teeth as another contraction hit her. She would have found his words very sweet before, but not when she was in so much pain delivering their daughter. This time a small scream of pain escaped from her, hit by a stronger and more decisive contraction.

“I swear I'll kill the person who made me do this!”: She exclaimed, sagging back on the hospital bed when she finished pushing, but still squeezing his hand as the pain hadn't gone away yet.

"I'm sorry for you, but Lance will kill me sooner for missing the Allura speech": Keith smiled, taking a deep breath and trying in every way to show that he was as calm as possible.

“Fuck Lance! He can't kill my child's father!”: she exclaimed, biting her lip avoiding screaming: “Shit… it hurts…”

Keith looked for a moment at the alien doctor and nurses working…well…there…completely concentrated and passing orders, the alien nurses who at one point had moved from one point to another in the room taking medical and surgical items. He swallowed the lump in his throat when he glimpsed blood in the doctor's gloves.

“Not long now…”: he said comfortingly, bowing her head as she nearly broke his hand with a death grip

“You said that three hours ago too!”: She exclaimed with a small scream, squeezing his hand even tighter and screaming again. Exhausted, she finally slumped on the bed, feeling the sensation of pain mysteriously diminish; her grip on Keith's hand weakened too and she closed her eyes for a moment catching her breath, almost feeling like a torture was finally over. She smiled weakly as she heard hysterical crying. Pidge had always found baby crying too annoying, but the sound sounded almost like music to her now.

“I told you you made it…”: Keith kissed her hand still entwined in his as she watched him with a faint smile, their baby now clean and swaddled being carried to an alien nurse and given to Pidge. She smiled, letting out an exclamation of surprise as the crying newborn was propped against her chest, her little feet and hands fidgeting as she got used to her surroundings.

Keith let out a few tears, resting his cheek on their joined hands, while with the other he gently caressed the cheek of their newborn daughter. She stopped crying after a while, sensing her parents next to her, lazily opening her eyes and showing beautiful honey-colored irises, falling asleep shortly after.

"I told you. She couldn't wait to see you...": Pidge cradled her softly against her chest, holding her close as if she was the most precious thing in the world: "I don't want to call her Jumpiter anymore..."

“No..?”: He looked at her confused, raising his eyebrow, his hand still resting on his newborn.

"Today is a special day... And not just because our daughter was born...": she explained, looking at her smiling and stroking her thick, short black hair.

"You're right...": he understood, nodding, giving them both a kiss on the cheek: "You know, maybe Lance won't kill us if we call her that..."

She giggled, shrugging and leaning her head against his shoulder.

“I think it's decided then…”: Pidge whispered, positioning the newborn so that Keith could also pick her up at the same time.

“Yeah…”: he circled the woman's shoulders, placing a hand on her little girl's back. She looked at him smiling, and then brought his attention back to her daughter.

“Welcome to the world, Allura…”

#voltron legendary defender #keith voltron #keith x pidge #kidge #voltron pidge #keidge #kidge summer event

[ketimean]

if somebody could just teach me how to be a person. please. not a martyr or a victim, not a psycho, not an asshole. i just want to know how to not hate myself or feel sorry for myself and stop constantly trying to manipulate everyone else to feel the same. if im not having a pity party begging for sympathy then im drowning in self loathing and trying to make everyone hate me its fucking exhausting. i dont think i do anything without considering how the Audience will feel hell i fucking rehearse my thoughts before i think them even rn im just like. preaching to nobody for attention this is so stupid

#personal

[badmusejail]

Giovanni had lived most of his life on his own.

But it wasn't until after the war that he felt truly alone.

The doctors were nice, of course. Polite and respectful, but with a certain glimmer of pity in their eyes as they explained the situation.

Sir, you were very badly injured. We've done our best but you'll need to rest so your body can finish healing.

No--no, I understand. Please don't apologize.

The nurses, too; but he could barely stand to look at them; how disgusted and humiliated he was, needing help to do anything from rolling over to cleaning himself and he could see the exhaustion in their polite smiles. Just how many people were they scrambling to take care of?

He was lucky enough to have his own room. Whether that was fortune or misfortune--he hadn't decided.

He had the television, of course, and a powerful concoction of drugs to help aleviate his pain and take his mind off the numerous needles and equipment invading his body.

The television only seemed to repeat the same five stories. Broadcasting that the war was over; Kanto had lost. Lance was formally in control now, and advised any remaining parties to surrender.

How awful that his home seemed to be cowed into silence that easily.

He should be out there. He should be fighting; or at least helping--but even the angry trembling, fists balling into his sheets, was enough to send shockwaves of pain through his body and he cried.

It was a maddening, self-fulfilling cycle. Perhaps he could have turned the television off. Perhaps he deserved to have his failures perpetually broadcast.

Nurse in, nurse out. Breakfast. Stare at nothing. Nurse in, nurse out. Lunch. Try to sleep a while. In. Out. Tremble. Breathe. Cry.

He kept expecting Oak to show up. Maybe he was busy. There was a lot going on, but... What could a humiliated ex-champion really have to do right now? And yet, any time he's tried to think about his champion, the only image he could conjure was that impassive look Oak gave him before Lance attacked. He kept hoping. Oak never showed up.

Surge did, though; it was unexpected and the singular visitor he had that wasn't medical staff.

Giovanni didn't even know how long it had been. Nearly delirious and quite possibly medicated to forcibly calm his growing anxieties, he could only stare blankly at his arrival.

Surge told him to suck it up.

(Oh, that's not true, and a disrespect to a great man. Certainly, it was the final message he had, but he delivered it with a degree of tact and sympathy that Giovanni didn't expect the man capable of.)

Sorry it took so long. Shit's fucked out there.

Some time ago, Giovanni might have laughed. But not now, not after everything that happened, and not with the distant grimace on the man's face that implied he wasn't making a joke.

It was awkward and humiliating to a degree Giovanni had never felt--burning shame creeping through his body, pulsating with every beat of his heart.

He should be dead.

He should have been killed.

Whatever words he might have said to Surge died on dry lips and he just looked away.

Maybe he preferred being utterly alone.

Maybe he deserved it.

Still, Surge returned; the closest he had to a friend during this hellish time. It was shameful and he hated it; no matter how desperately he needed that contact, some sort of life in his grueling existence.

And it was a stark reminder that he had been completely and utterly discarded.

Clearly, the doctors weren't prohibiting visitors.

Oak? Agatha? Everyone else he served with, everyone he went out of his way to help?

Simply chose not to visit.

It's fine. They're busy. They have other things to worry about. Even Surge shouldn't be here, wasting his time. He didn't need to be visited; he was strong enough to get by on his own. He'd be fine. It was fine.

He didn't know which visit it was; but Surge held out a PokeBall. With a single word, it was clear he wasn't allowing the gift to be refused. A flash of light and a Magnemite appeared, hovering near the bed.

Giovanni stared at it.

Well I know you ain't in any condition to take care of any Pokemon. But this guy doesn't need to eat or drink or much of anything. Just be kind to him alright?

Giovanni decided he didn't like the thing very much. But if he closed his eyes, he could almost pretend the weight on the bed was Persian.

Being cleared for rehabilitation was a mercy he never realized he needed. A reminder that this state was temporary; that he'd be free once more, that he wouldn't be stuck in this bed forever.

But even as the physical pain faded; as the wounds healed into scars he couldn't look at in the mirror, the burning emotional anguish only grew stronger; bitterness, hatred, rage, despair.

He knew he needed to stand up. He knew he needed to keep fighting. He would never accept Lance and his men in his homeland, and he would fight until the man finally killed him.

He told Surge of his plan.

Giovanni. It's over. Let it go.

Six simple words that stunned him into silence.

He didn't discuss his ideas with Surge anymore.

But he kept that Magnemite by his side; if nothing else, it helped support him while he learned to walk again, kept him company as he felt the walls of the hospital were closing in on him.

He had been abandoned, wounded, discarded, and forgotten.

But when he walked out those doors, he had a purpose.

Celadon.

The facility he owned there would be the perfect starting point for his mission; a sort of queasy place where despair and shattered hope gathered.

The people there were desperate; many feeling the same betrayal and hatred that Giovanni did. They listened to his pleas; they rallied at his call.

Broken, destroyed, discarded, unwanted--but they were still strong and they still had purpose in this damned world, and they would stand and take their freedom, whether the world liked it or not.

And really--the fact that Giovanni was in charge was arbitrary. He just happened to be the first to speak up, so it was agreed that it made sense that he was the leader as the group grew larger.

As it grew into something entirely unexpected.

As it became Team Rocket.

#|| ooc | out of character #|| giovanni | the bad boss. #|| giovanni | headcanon | stubborn as the earth with goals as lofty as the sky. #hospital cw #medical cw

[kaunisbaby]

this blog is becoming a pity party and im so sorry.

i think im starting to get physically sick because of all the stress. the last two days were fuckin draining and im running out of ways to cope. nothing works to ease the stress because i get bad news like every hour

and on top of that (let's not talk about how i was promised a job i didn't get, how i was humiliated for the way i was dressed because i was mistaken for someone else and the usual Stuff At Home). this week my mother has accused me of being manipulative with my friends (they love you too much, they do so much to help you, surely you're playing mind games with them/your friend only goes to concerts with you because she wanna please you, she doesn't give a fuck about the music) and today she even said my diagnosis is bullshit because now that my sister got the same diagnosis she thinks we're too different to have the same disorder. so im obviously faking it. (as if it didn't take me years to finally accept that i was actually mentally ill and not an attention seeker)

and i know i shouldn't even listen to someone who didn't notice i was self harming when i was a fuckin kid, did nothing when she saw i weighed 39kg at 18, believed it when i said i had just slept at a friend's when i was hospitalized for an alcohol induced coma. i attempted suicide twice in my teens but all i get is "you're faking it". worked my ass of in therapy for 11 years and all i get is "you're faking it". graduated despite it all (i went to lectures drunk off my ass, cut in the bathroom while high on benzos and fucked randos in the empty classrooms), im trying so hard to keep myself afloat and search for a job that just isn't happening (ive been searching for nine months now) but the universe just seems against me and i can't do this anymore. i don't wanna live anymore. im not strong enough im exhausted

#my friends are the only ones who actually bring me joy but ive been second guessing my every interaction with them #because what if she's right and im manipulating them??? #so now im even terrified when a friend texts me. yay 💘 #personal #negative #anorexia tw #self harm tw #suicide attempt tw #alcohol tw #hospitalization tw #what else

[the-apples-were-monitored]

I've become sick of the social scripts keeping me caged in for other people's comfort. Lately I've started responding to "how are you" with telling them exactly how I feel. I'm chronically ill and struggling with ptsd (anxiety/depression) and autistic burnout while everyone at my job is hostile to me and is looking for an excuse to fire me. I'm not gonna lie and say things are fine.

I can't be the only one who's exhausted with lying, right? When you're chronically ill (mentally and physically), it's an every day thing. Other people have bad days. Your version of a good day is being able to distract yourself for maybe an hour without something going wrong. But people will still ask every day as though it will change. And they don't really want to know the answer. So when you say how you really feel, they say "I'm sorry to hear that". Well if you're so sorry to hear that, stop fucking asking.

I swear to God I can only talk to other people who are struggling long term. They're the only people who don't pity me or talk to me like I'm stupid. When they ask how things are, i can be honest and I'll get a whole conversation about how they struggle with something similar and we can just acknowledge that everything sucks without having to be a brave little toaster about it. But people who haven't been through it can't empathize so they want you to shut up about it.

If you have a friend who is struggling long term with chronic issues, consider not asking how they are unless you actually care and have something more meaningful to say than "I'm sorry to hear that". Consider instead of asking something so broad, asking something that shows that you're listening and empathizing. "Did you ever get that housing thing resolved?" "Are you still getting those headaches?" It's especially helpful if you can relate it to an experience you may be having in that department or if you heard of a new resource they can use, you can lead with that. That's an actual conversation instead of a pity party.

[nochi-quinn]

WIP Wednesday

Proving I'm still working on Never Limited and Never Complete even with Fallout's vice-grip on my soul

Frazie trailed behind Lizzie down the hallway, flexing her hands at her sides and trying to control her breathing. She’d already been wound up over the Wall, and then Norma showed up. She’d at least refrained from insulting her family this time, but seemed to have replaced it with being a know-it-all.

Unless the book was a jab in and of itself. Our family followed us when yours won’t. She knew Lizzie hadn’t knowingly poked the exposed nerve that was her family, but that hadn’t stopped it from hurting. Everything about this place seemed determined to stomp right on it, bringing up her brother or grandmother every time she introduced herself, or plastering her name on their breeding registry – after Lizzie’s explanation it was difficult to think of it as anything else – before she’d even moved in properly.

She was pulled between two worlds, one that revered her family for being psychic and the other trying to pretend they weren’t, and it was fucking exhausting.

But that wasn’t Lizzie’s fault. She shouldn’t be mad at her for having a supportive family just because hers was complicated and difficult. So she took a deep breath, closed her fists to stop her fingers twitching, and breathed out her frustration in a long, slow sigh. “Hey,” she called ahead, taking a couple of long strides to catch up with Lizzie. “Sorry.”

“I’m sorry,” Lizzie said. “I should have thought before opening my fat mouth.”

“Your mouth’s not fat,” Frazie said. “None of my shit is your fault, don’t feel bad about it.”

“I feel bad for you,” Lizzie said, and Frazie just looked at her out of the corner of her eye. “Not like, in a pity party way,” she added quickly. “Just like. You don’t deserve that.” She shoved her hands deep into her pockets. “No one does.”

Frazie had just opened her mouth to respond when they approached a set of double-doors. “Look, the gym!” Lizzie announced with what could only be described as relief.

Frazie pressed her lips together tightly. She didn’t know Lizzie well enough to argue with her, which was a small shock to realize. They’d spent so much of the past two days and Lizzie knew so much about her, but she knew relatively little about Lizzie in return.

Only time would rectify that, as much as it grated on her nerves. So she followed after Lizzie with her fingers back to flexing at her sides, continuing the tour of what was apparently her new home, at least for a while.

Her irritation was shoved to the back of her mind when they passed the double doors (and Thinkerprint scan) into the gym. It was huge, at least as big as the library, but much more open. Tumbling mats and parallel bars and an honest-to-god trapeze, with actual cables like her father had always wanted to replace their ropes with.

“Go on,” Lizzie said, and when Frazie looked over she had a fond smile on her face. “You know you wanna.”

“What, did my brother start cartwheeling all over the place?”

“I dunno.” Lizzie shrugged. “But you look like a kid in a candy store.”

Why that made her flush Frazie didn’t know, but she redirected it by slipping out of her shoes and heading for the tumbling mat. The shirt wasn’t the best for acrobatics, but at least she’d worn leggings instead of jeans. She picked up speed as she approached the mat, turning a cartwheel as soon as she reached the edge. She stumbled on the landing, not used to the give of a mat versus hard-packed earth, but managed a second flip regardless.

Lizzie applauded behind her, and she grinned as she turned and took a bow. “Surely that’s not the first cartwheel you’ve ever seen,” she laughed.

“First professional cartwheel,” Lizzie responded. “I mean yeah, your brother, but that’s usually in training or whatever. And usually off a lev ball.” Her eyes lit up. “Oh shit, you’re gonna be unstoppable with a lev ball.”

Frazie paused, caught between two reactions. The thought of being able to launch herself higher and with more control made a dozen possible routines jump to mind...followed swiftly by the fact that her mother would never allow any of them to use their abilities on the stage.

“Hey.” Lizzie’s voice shook her out of her thoughts, and she gave a quick, unconvincing smile.

“I’m fine,” she said, and went into a backbend to avoid seeing Lizzie’s reaction.

#psychonauts #psychonauts 2 #lizzie natividad #frazie aquato #wip wednesday #my writing #psytag #...it's. it's fucking thursday. #being sick has fucked with my entire sense of time #WIP WHENEVER I GUESS sdkfjsl