#and i'm delighted to finally be able to start sharing it

[novelconcepts]

the other side of someday

When the Yellowjackets' plane crashes in the Wilderness, they aren't the first. Another team has already been here. Other girls have already died here.

As Taissa discovers when she awakens with a long-dead goalie sharing her body, dead doesn't mean gone.

chapter 1/4 - head

T (for now); 6733 words

The first thing Taissa notices in the wake of the crash is the high-pitched wail inside her ears. She’s on her side. On her side, panting, feeling cross-eyed with dizziness. Pine needles prick her skin. Pine needles. Where is the plane? She presses herself gingerly up, just a little at a time. Up off the ground. Up to a sitting position. Up, until she can stand, until she can test her strength on legs that wobble, but thankfully do not collapse. Where is the plane? Here—and also there. In pieces. It’s in fucking pieces because it fell out of the fucking sky. “Oh,” she hears herself say as if through a tin can. “We crashed.”

[mrsbarnesblog]

just us

masterlist

summary: a situation between pogues and kooks at the beach made Rafe rethink his priorities

word count: 1.8k.

warnings: season 4 spoilers, established relationship, mention of the dead turtle, that hoe Ruthie, protective Rafe

a/n: i'm obsessed with season 4, y'all. absolutely in love with everything that's going on and especially with Rafe being in a better place with a girl that he actually likes 🥹 this scene at the beach with turtles just made me sob, so I really need someone to drag that bitch by her hair. sorry not sorry.

Your heart was beating with adrenaline from the scene that just happened at the beach, with Topper’s girlfriend almost running over the pogues and being the usual insane bitch that she was. Rafe stood beside you, silent but shaking his buzzed head in disapproval.

Kie was standing on her knees on the sand, in shock, with juice still dripping down her face and hair. She brushed off the help of her friends, instead standing and picking something up from the ground, without hesitation, going towards the group of people around you. They seemed absolutely delighted by the whole situation, laughing, fist bumping each other, and making you want to punch every single one of them in the face. 

You didn’t even want to be here in the first place, not with a bunch of people with whom you shared mutual hatred towards each other. Rafe was your only connection with them, and it seemed like even for him it was a bit too much. A fun day at a beach with a little surfing competition, where even Topper and JJ seemed to have some fun together, took the wrong turn way too quickly.

“Look what you did! Is this okay?” Kie stopped in front of Ruthie, reaching out her hand to show something that you weren’t able to see, but by the look on her face it was obviously serious to her. “There was a turtle hatch, you idiots! You drove right over it!” Your stomach twisted at the realization, and you took a step closer to see it yourself. 

“Oh my God.” You whispered, catching a glimpse of a tiny dead turtle with a crushed shell laying in the palm of her hand. So little and harmless that the picture of it brought tears to your eyes. 

“Don’t look, baby.” Rafe’s deep voice mumbled near your ear, with a warm hand sprawled across your back to try to distract you, but you shook your head, unable to take your eyes off it. 

“All right, but it was only one.” Ruthie said with her usual attitude, nonchalantly pointing to the rest of the turtles that, luckily, were perfectly fine. Your mouth opened in disbelief, and you looked at Rafe to see him uncomfortably rubbing the back of his head. 

“I’m so sorry, Kie…” You whispered to her, stepping further away from the kooks, eyes drifting again to the dead animal in her hand. No matter how hard you tried to fit in with Rafe and his friends, you could never be one of them if it meant to be a bunch of pompous and cruel rich kids. You thought that, maybe it was time for you to finally admit that. 

“It’s not your fault, Y/N.” She briefly looked at you, because despite not being friends, there never were any arguments between you and the rest of the pogues, always keeping cool and friendly with each other. “There’s something wrong with you, people.” Kiara looked back at the kooks with disgust written all over her face. 

“I’m leaving, Rafe.” Barely holding back your tears, you looked back at your boyfriend, before picking up your beach bag from the sand and turning around. “I’m sorry again for them, Kie.”

“No, wait, Y/N.” He pushed through the crowd, wide-eyed, quickly approaching you and grasping your wrist. “This is not—“

“I don’t want to be here. I didn’t sign up to hang out with your friends when I started dating you, okay?” You groaned in frustration, attempting to move, but Rafe stopped you. “I don’t even know why we’re here, why you are here, when you clearly don’t enjoy it anymore.” 

“Listen, this is not so easy, okay?” He rolled his eyes, but you knew it was not fully directed at you; Rafe was already struggling with trusting those around him, and the fact that you slowly but steadily made him reconsider his current surroundings did not help. 

“You are not like them, they are not your friends, don’t you understand it?” The pure desperation was speaking in you, searching for the answers in his eyes. You overheard some people laughing at you, as they were too confident that Rafe would never listen to someone like you, someone from the cut, not even realizing the war that was currently going on in his head. 

He was silent, thinking, making his already overwhelmed mind go hundred miles per hour to figure something out, because you were right. The more time had passed, the more the two of you were together, the less Rafe found himself enjoying the presence of his old friends, the less he wanted to do that childish bullshit. 

“This dumb fucking bitch almost ran over people and killed an innocent animal because her big ego got hurt, do you understand?! So I’m leaving. Alone or with you.” You almost whispered the last part to him, too scared that he'd not choose you. At the end of the day, you were a pogue, and no matter how much you tried, you would never be good enough for Rafe. 

“What did you just call me?” Ruthie arched a brow, now shooting daggers at you. 

“I called you a dumb fucking bitch, didn’t you hear me?” You spat, finally having a good enough reason to tell the truth right in her face. “Or are you too stupid to get that through your thick scull?” 

“That’s rich, coming for a pogue. It’s just a cycle of life. And if you, losers, are so offended by that, it’s not my problem.” 

“A cycle of life? Getting flattened by a truck is not a cycle of life.” Kiara pushed Ruthie with her hand, and it nearly turned into a fight, with JJ standing by his girlfriend's side. You turned away from them, too frustrated and drained to bother listening to the rest of the conversation, your gaze shifting to Rafe, who still held your hand.

“I want to leave. Stay here if you want to, I don’t care. I’m done with them, Rafe.” Your teary eyes met his blue ones, and he shook his head, pulling you closer with your forearms. The mere thought of you leaving him, angry and upset, triggered a whirlwind of panic within him.

“Hey, no, I’m not staying, okay?” Rafe's hands, now much gentler and delicate, touched your cheeks, wiping away a few tears that you could not keep back. Rafe had never been too comfortable with the display of emotions, and he was pretty sure that it was the first time he had actually seen you cry. And he knew how much you had always carried for animals, how you petted every stray cat or a dog on the street, and how you hated any form of violence against them. 

The pulsating and aching feeling in his chest at the sight of your tears made him want to drop everything, or rather, eliminate everyone who had upset you, and just hold you in his arms. 

“Aw, look at you.” You heard that annoying voice behind you back again, pulling you out of the bubble in which you fell, and turning around, you saw that Kie and JJ were no longer there. Your eyes instantly rolled back as Ruthie looked at you with her usual fake sympathy, crossing her arms over her chest. “Go back to your side of the island, you’re not one of us. Don’t even know why Rafe bothers to bring you here when you’re just another dirty toy to—“

Rafe left your side before she could finish her sentence, looming over her with the most furious expression you had ever seen on his face. Everyone and everything seemed to fall silent for a moment, and you held your breath, unsure what he would do. “Wanna say some bullshit about her? Try to do it right in my face and see what happens.”

“You’re not seriously protecting the pogue. She’s not on our side.” Her smile faded, her eyes now nervously looking between Rafe and Topper, who was standing behind her back. 

“C’mon, Rafe…” He started, but quickly shut his mouth as soon as Rafe turned his head towards him with a silent threat. You felt your heartbeat quickening as the atmosphere started to get even more intense. Everyone around you also started arguing and saying God knows what, but Rafe was awfully calm, and it frightened you even more. 

You moved closer to them as you made your way through the warm sand, until you were able to place a comforting hand on your boyfriend's back. He was so tense under your touch that it amazed you how the hell he was not shaking because of it. The only times you had ever seen him behaving that way was when people whispered something about his father behind his back.

“It’s okay, Ray.” You whispered, kissing his shoulder and sliding your hand down his back to take a hold of his bicep. 

“You’re lucky that I don’t hit women. But if I hear a single word about my girlfriend again, you will regret it, I promise you." Your stomach flattered from the way he protected you, from the way his friends opened their mouths in shock at his words. Even Topper and Kelce were too stunned to speak, sending each other weird glances. “Control, your crazy bitch, Top.” 

As if nothing had happened, Rafe stepped back, throwing a protective hand over your shoulders and guiding you away from the group. He was silent for a whole walk towards his truck, only stopping near the passenger door and turning you to face him. 

His worried blue eyes were almost shining under the bright and hot sun and you saw words forming in his head and sitting at the tip of his tongue. You waited another minute, while Rafe was focused on your necklace, thinking. His hands found a place on your waist, rubbing circles into your skin, until he finally took a deep breath and looked up. 

“You’re right.” He said simply. “I’m not this person anymore. That shit with racing with pogues was fun and all, but I didn’t like what happened today.” You half smiled, nodding and encouraging him to talk. “If—if I want to be like my dad, I need to have my priorities straight. No more of this bullshit, no more fake ass people, yeah? You’re the only one who's been here for me for a long fucking time. You’re the only one who I can trust, baby.”

His hand cupped your cheek, eyes focused solemnly on you, before he lowered himself closer to you to place a kiss on your lips. 

“This is the right decision. You’ve overgrown them, you’re a better man now. And i’ll be here for you whenever you need me, I promise. I guess it’s just us now." Your body sagged against his, too wrapped in the comfort of his presence to even care about anything else. Your lips brushed against his, making Rafe groan.

“Just us, baby.”

[ihavetoomanyocsdealwithit]

Yuu has the audacity to ask a question. It leads to some interesting moments  

Jade Leech, Rook Hunt, Vil Schoenheit, Floyd Leech

Jade Leech 

“Jade, can I ask you a question?” It’s not often that the library is so packed that you end up sharing a table but if it had to be with anybody, at least it was Jade.  

Jade wasn’t naturally academically smart. He took a lot of notes and studied in order to come out in the middle. There were folks that thought he was simply keeping his head down, but Yuu found out by accident. She knew Jade was incredibly street smart and people savvy though, no matter what grades he got. It worked in her favor though, as Jade let them copy notes from last year in exchange for not sharing the information anywhere. Not that Yuu planned too, but they weren’t going to pass up such an opportunity either.  

“Of course, I will assist in anyway I can.”  

“Do you have any books that you would recommend for scavenging for local flora and fauna in the woods back at Ramshackle? I’ve tried searching through the library but it’s a bit too vague for what I need.”

If Yuu had blinked, they would have missed the brief surprise and delight on his face.  

“Well,” he sets his pen down, “As the president of the Mountain Lovers club, I’m sure we could discuss that during our meetings. If only you were a member.” he sighed  

“If only Crowley would allow me to join any clubs.” Yuu muttered, “I know it's a requirement for first and second years to be involved in at least one, but he says I have far more to offer as his unofficial assistant. Unpaid is more accurate but what do I know.”  

Jade smiles, the one that matches his brothers. Wide and full of teeth.  

“Leave Crowley to me, dear Prefect. You just meet me in the morning behind Ramshackle. Bring a basket and your camera, oh, and dress warm. It'll be cold for you.”  

He writes some extra instructions on a slip of paper and collects his things, turning left at the library doors. Damn, that was straight to the headmasters’ office too. Jade really doesn't play around when it comes to the Mountain Lover's club.

While Yuu isn’t able to attend every meeting, the Mountain Lover’s club apparently includes trips to other countries, recipes cooked in the Ramshackle kitchen as well as appreciating cultures and crafts made by various peoples which slowly starts to decorate the rickety dorm into something interesting and unique. Jade becomes a different person as a traveler and seems to find joy in just exploring and discovering all the different ways that people create and eat and live.  

After he graduates, Yuu gifts him the book that the two of them created, with pictures and descriptions of all the Night Raven College fauna and flora, their uses, if they are edible, and different recipe and potion ingredients, the regions it comes from, and even snippets of stories and memories they share.  

Jade is not an emotional man, but when he asks you to come with him on his next expedition, his smile is full of joy.  

Rook Hunt

“Rook, can I ask you a question?”  

Rook looks down from his spot in the tree, a camera perched in his hands. “Amazing eyesight, Mon Trickster! I did not anticipate being found. Ask away, but be quick, less Roi de Lion suspects me.”  

“Are there any plays or poetry books that would be good for a beginner? I read a lot back home but I know there is cultural and historical context I'm going to be missing-” 

“I am so happy!” he practically drops the tree, taking both of her hands to kiss the knuckles, “I would be happy to help you. Come, come!”  

Oh, they are going to the library now. Right now. Ok, Yuu should have expected that.  

Rook is always excitable, but he’s mindful as well. Picking out smaller volumes at first, and adding some reference materials, putting a few back as he asks questions about what she has already read or what she typically enjoys. He also writes out a list for audio books and radio performances. Thank the Seven that Crowley finally got them a phone and they could excuse the data usage for school.  

“I have the films I would be willing to lend, but I would ask you be incredibly careful.”  

“Oh, I don’t have a TV or any type of DVD player at Ramshackle. We try and keep the places as authentic as possible. It helps when the ghosts come to visit on Hallow’s eve.” They don’t have wifi either and their electricity runs off a backup generator, but Yuu doesn’t mention that. They are distinctly aware of how rundown Ramshackle is, but they try not to advertise how badly.  

“What dedication you have to your dorm and the history of Night Raven College. We may do so in Pomefiore!”  

And that’s how they end up having movie night basically every Wednesday night, sometimes with other Pomefiore members or even Vil himself refreshing on the classics. Rook would sit close by, quietly explaining certain contexts and even joining Yuu on reading through some of the poetry books. His passion comes out more with his knowledge than his speech in those moments, and it’s...nice. Normally Rook is the most reserved person she knows. He’s family is still a mystery, but she’s learned more about his beliefs and insights into how he perceives life in general. 

“This is how I met Roi de Poison, you know. He enchanted me at first sight, but his mind...he understood my passion for theater, music and beauty. He respected me, once I proved that I loved him for more than his looks and roles.”  

Crazy fan he might have been in the past, it was definitely more of an equal relationship once you saw past the surface level. Yuu eventually started picking a few habits and fashion tips, slowly becoming a bit more refined. Elegant even, she might say.  

When she hesitantly asks for help with other things, it's easier each time. Help with skincare routines, or experimenting with make-up, what colors work best and how silhouettes come across. It’s never been this fun to experiment with her style. It helps that Rook, while thinking certain things definitely work, will be gentle in the things that aren’t.  

“They do not enhance your beauty,” he says, sounding like Vil, “And you are already magnifique.”  

He is the first person that she shares her book of stories with, the precognitions that she has  

“Do you think fairy tales are fiction?” He asks her, quietly skimming over the passages of Snow White. The Fairest Queen is barely mentioned, but without her, there is no story.  

“Living here feels like a fairy tale, but if it is, you’ve made it a wonderful dream.”  

Rook looks at her, a surprised chuckle slipping out. Before he can hide it, his nose crinkles, a smile wide enough to show his gums, and Yuu thinks it enhances all the best of him.  

Vil Schoenheit 

“Vil, may I ask you a question?” 

“At least somebody paid attention when I went over manners. You may.” Vil says, as he adds in some sort of lilac powder. Normally, they wouldn’t have any classes together, but with Yuu acting as an ‘assistant’ towards the teachers to make extra cash, they got to see the second and third years more than even the other first years in their dorms.  

“How do you make time for it all? Between the acting jobs, getting good grades in school, indulging in potionology and homebrew makeup in your limited free time, it seems like you get so much done with just as much time as the rest of us.”  

“Thank you for noticing.” Vil says, looking up from his potion work. “And yes, I do keep a very organized schedule. Every minute is planned and my down time is spent decompressing efficiently.”  

“Is there any articles or techniques you would recommend? Or a template you used?” 

“You could just ask me for help, you know.” he retorts, huffing a bit.  

“I know I could, but I also want to be respectful of what you have on your plate.”  

“Ah, potato...I have plenty of time, especially in this season. I don’t schedule anything this close to finals. Come sit with me this evening for dinner and we will talk goals and progress markers. There is more to this mentally than most people think.”  

Vil is a bit less than impressed when he sees just how much Yuu accomplishes for Night Raven College with no credit and makes a note to talk to the teachers and Crowley about getting her properly compensated or at least. But overall, it goes well, making time for exercise, hobbies, studies and even some time with him. Telling her about the techniques he used and actually practicing them were two different things, and some things are just easier to show rather than tell.  

“Alright, let’s start here.”  

Mindfulness, ironically for somebody outside Scarabina, is important to Vil. Sinking fully into the experience of his daily life, looking at all the colors, enjoying his foods with no screens, or just enjoying the quiet while he removes makeup. His decompress is like a valve that he releases in minutes throughout the day, not hours at the end of it.

“This takes practice. Don’t discourage yourself if you don’t get it every time, eventually it will come more naturally.”  

And it does. Over the months, Yuu feels more productive than ever, even finding time to wonder about her own style. It is a bit embarrassing when Vil enters Ramshackle to use the Guest Room to study and sees her hastily trying to wash off eyeshadow. 

“Oh, spudling, not your color. No, no, here.” He sits, and teaches, a bit harshly at times, but he wouldn’t be Vil if he wasn’t direct. Much like Riddle, he fully believes that people can reach his level, and sees no reason why they shouldn’t. And while Yuu will never be Vil pretty, she certainly feels more beautiful and confident now than she ever has before.  

It isn’t until Vil is reviewing one of his performances that Yuu makes a comment, some offhand remark about the script not quite matching the vernacular expected for the period, that he invites her to sit and review more.  

Yuu doesn’t think it’s anything spectular, it’s kind of obvious, but apparently it wasn’t to the rest of the audience.  

Vil sits at thier usual tea table in the Night Raven Gardens, and slides a ticket over to her.  

“If you have time. I know you recently picked up a few photography jobs in town that would be a shame to miss. Rapport with clients is key, you know.”  

It’s the red-carpet event to a 5th year anniversary movie he did as a child. All glitz and glam, showing just how much they have grown as actors and people since their debuts. It’s a milestone even for Vil, the first and only role where he was played a supporting role that wasn’t a villain or antagonist.  

“What colors are you wearing? I might have something that compliments.” Yuu asks, already going through their mind for anything suitable in Ramshackle.  

“Well,” Vil preens, opening his laptop. “We will just have to buy something together to ensure we match, won’t we? When are you free?” 

It’s so small Yuu almost misses it, but hidden underneath his painted blush is a heated blush, quiet and pink and delighted.  

Floyd Leech

“Floyd, can I ask you a question?”   

Floyd doesn’t even bother looking up from his spot at the table, “Better not be a boring question Shrimpy, or I’ll squeeze ya~” 

“Where do you go to get your shoes repaired?”  

His head snaps up just a bit, left eye brighter than usual.  

“Ace had mentioned that your sole had torn during practice,” Yuu continues, feeling like they have to explain themselves with how intensely he was staring, “But the next day it had been stitched back on like new. There are some fantastic leather boots from the old NRC uniforms that I'd love to use, but I’m trying to find somebody who won’t butcher them or tell me they aren’t repairable just cause there old or out of style, you know?”  

Floyd nods, eyes still searching before ultimately just shrugging his shoulders. “Hmmm...at least it wasn’t boring. Meet at Monstro Lounge at 6 lil’ Shrimpy, bring the shoes!”  

He walks away before Yuu can even say that they have to meet with somebody else, but that really isn’t a possibility when a Leech brother has demanded your attention. Looks like you’ll have to reschedule with Deuce.  

The Monstro Lounge is fairly steady, though Yuu has never seen it slow. Always some sort of deal or exclusive that sets these rich bastards running through the doors, even if it’s just so they don’t have to deal with the lines in the cafeteria or cook their own food.  

Jade waves you in, taking the box from your hands in a gentlemanly manner, and leading you to the side. Floyd is quick to intercept, mumbling a thank you before his long strides leave you almost jogging.  

“Alright, let’s see what we are working with.”  

The dorm is clearly shared between him and Jade. Crisp white walls, a seashell and sea motif on the desk and headboard and some floating shelves that look vaguely like drift wood, exactly what she expected from Octanvinelle. But that’s about all the two sides have in common. Jade’s is organized, of course, but notable is the terrariums on the shelves and a stack of geology books tucked into the corner, along with photos of places he may have been or plans to go.

Floyd’s half is a mess, yes, but it’s organized chaos, like looking at Ace and Deuce’s dorm. High protein snacks are tucked on the shelves, completed 3D puzzles, and...fashion magazines? Huh, he did say that merpeople didn’t really have a reason to wear clothes so land peoples being so obsessed with it would be interesting, especially in different regions or cultures. And the trends are constantly changing. It actually started fitting, the more Yuu thought about it.  

Floyd set the box on the desk, picking up the shoes and bending them this way and that, pressing on the heel or pinches the toe.  

“You’ve taken good care of them,” He says, “The stitches are loose and the nails need to be hammered back in, but the leather is clean and strong. I’d get some new leather laces though, the wax on these has completely frayed from misuse. How old are these?”  

“They're from back when Ezra and the others went to school, but they don’t have a great concept of time.” Floyd raises an eyebrow. “Oh, the ghosts at Ramshackle.”  

“Huh, no wonder it felt like the place was trying to kick us out.” Floyd walks over to the walk-in closet and Yuu has to double take. She would have mistaken the closet for Jade’s! On the left, the clothes are hung neatly on the rack except for the everyday items like the basketball or school uniform which have their own spots hung neatly on the door itself. Below that are clear boxes that seem to hold all sort of tools. Are these hobbies that Floyd has picked up and gotten bored with?

But the right side of the walk in closet is just racks and racks of shoes. Wing tip dress, loafers, even a few kitten heels and red backed stiletos. All perfectly shined and displayed.  

“Floyd, you repair your own shoes?” Yuu taking the box he hands her.

“When you are as tall as me and Jade, you end up having to customize and fix a lot of your own clothes, unless you wanna pay some stupid prices, and standing there while they pin and stuff is boring. I’d rather just do it myself.” He takes out a wicked looking needle and a stand, securing it to the desk with a flick of a lever. “Which pair is your size?”  

“Oh, these.” she says, picking up a pair of loafers and ankle boots. “I can’t afford for you to do this for me Floyd. I don’t have the funds right now.” 

He just leans against the table with a laugh, “Oh, I aint doin’ it for free. Your gonna pay me by letting me keep a pair, specifically those.”

He points to the bottom of the box, a pair of thigh high riding boots from what she can tell.  

“Those are the ones in the worst shape?”  

“Oh, I won’t be able to get them to their original form, but I can lengthen the sole and toe area a bit, add a heel, and have a wicked pair of thighs high stilettos that’ll have even Betta fish jealous~” 

“With your legs, you’d look really good in a skirt.”  

They both blink.  

“Shit, sorry, my mouth ran-” Floyd laughs, something softer than usual.  

“Your damn right Shrimpy.” He smiles, “I do look damn good in a skirt. I prefer dresses though.”  

He takes a seat, motioning for her to take the other side, sets the shoe inside the stand, and starts explaining the process. It doesn’t always make sense but he’s clearly passionate about it.  

This might be a truer version of him, Yuu thinks, seeing him carefully take out a rusted nail to pull out a fresh silver one from an even smaller box. One that isn’t bored or moody, but just...getting able to do something that actually interests him.  

“Hey Floyd. Do you want to go thrifting with me and Kalim on Sunday? I think you’d have some interesting things to say about some of the finds, especially the clothes mart. They literally have a bin of vintage pieces for a dollar a piece.”  

He leans back, and does that smile again. All teeth but his eyes relax, all boyishly charming.  

“You got all the audacity in the world, don’t you?” He chuckles, “I’ll get my shift covered.”  

[delusional-day-dreamer]

Reflections - e.e

‣ emily engstler x reader

‣ wc: 2958

‣‣ synopsis: emily had no choice but to bail on your planned day together, so you decide to get a little revenge, leaving your reflection as the only thing on her mind all day.

‣‣‣ a/n: sorry this took SO LONG to release, i was a little nervous to write smut for the first time so hopefully this isn't too bad! i'm still working on more fics and hopefully i can still follow my plan to release one a day!

You adjusted the position of your body in front of the mirror, lifting Emily's shirt to reveal just a sliver of your boobs as you posed for your selfie in your lacy thong. You weren't posing for a social media post or anything of the sort, you were just trying to torture your poor girlfriend a little bit.

The two of you had planned a day-long date today, as she wasn't supposed to go in for practice or any sort of team events, but her coaches had changed their mind, calling the team early in the morning for mid-day practice, followed by a workout session, ice baths and checkups with their athletic trainer, and a film session to end their packed day.

Unfortunately for you, the text had come in during an early morning makeout session, causing Emily to leave the comfort of your bed to eat breakfast, get ready, and head out for her long day. Leaving you a needy, pleading mess for her in the process. You knew the change in plans wasn't her fault, nor was it in her control.

You were just seeking revenge for the fact that she chose to leave you orgasmless before heading out, promising to finish what the two of you had started later in the evening.

Grinning as you finally got the perfect shot, you sent off a text to Emily, containing both the selfie and a short text that read, can't wait for you to get back Em. Now, all you had to do was wait for her response, which you knew wouldn't come until a little later, when she finally got the chance to check her phone during a water break.

To your delight, Emily's response came in sooner than you had expected, not even ten minutes after you had sent the text, your phone pinged with a new text. you better find a way to wait, don't you dare touch yourself without me.

You knew that was one of Emily's "rules", if she wasn't away for a game, your pleasure was hers and hers only. And usually, that was always enough for you, as you had no need to get yourself off either by hand or with any of the toys hidden in your shared closet, Emily was always there to take care of you. But today, you found yourself struggling to hold off on relieving the deep ache that had settled in your core.

You swear you did everything in attempt to pass by the time that Emily was gone. You ate breakfast, dusted nearly every surface in your apartment, wiped down every mirror, scrubbed down the bathrooms, ate lunch, cooked dinner for you two to enjoy later, took an everything shower, and finally settled down in on your bed to watch t.v. around four in the afternoon, knowing Emily would be home before six.

Just as your eyes began to shut, drifting off into a light sleep, you heard the front door open as Emily entered the apartment, dropping the keys in the little ceramic bowl you had bought for the apartment and taking off her shoes, walking towards your bedroom.

You shot up in bed, eager for Emily to walk through the door so you could capture her in your grasp and lure her into bed, finally able to relieve the throbbing between your legs. She greeted you as she entered the room, dropping her practice bag over by the laundry hamper before making her way to you, not that you were paying attention.

You leaned in and grabbed the back of her neck, smashing your lips onto hers the second she was close enough. She climbed onto the bed with you, laying her body over yours as you continued to make out, her tongue intertwined with yours as her hands moved up and down, from kneading your braless tits to squeezing your waist, the two of you just couldn't get enough of each other.

You whined as she pulled away from your kiss, she chuckled before ducking her head down to kiss across your jaw to your ear, "missed me that much baby?" She questioned smugly as she moved her lips under your ear, alternating between sharply nipping at your skin, open mouthed kisses, and soothing licks over the trail of reddish-purple marks she left behind.

"Please Em, don't tease. Been waiting for you all day," you begged, arching your chest into her, hoping she would get the hint. She popped her lips off your neck with a smirk, gazing at your needy expression before moving her hands to pull her t-shirt off your body, uncovering your perky nipples, begging for her touch.

Her lips began a trail of kisses, licking, biting, and sucking her way down from the base of your neck to your chest, leaving hickeys at the very tops of your breast before finally latching her mouth onto your right nipple, her hand coming up to twist and tug at the other.

Your hands flew to her ponytail, gripping it as you moaned at her teasing, urging her head to continue its descent down to where you needed her the most. Thankfully, she continued to kiss down your abdomen, stopping at the edge of your lace thong to nip at the fat of your hips. She continued to tease you, leaving hickeys around the perimeter of your inner thighs as you whimpered the arousal continuing to pool within your panties, yet Emily purposely avoided your throbbing pussy.

“God Em, please I can’t take it anymore, need you so bad,” you propped yourself up on your elbows to look down at her as you pleaded, your mind far too hazy to feel embarrassed of how desperate you sounded. She propped herself, perching herself to the perfect position in between your thighs as she finally ran her fingers up and down your lace-covered slit, feeling the wetness that had begun to soak through.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this baby,” she hummed, “Wanna try something different with you, that okay?” She asked as she pulled your thong down, a strand of your slick sticking to the fabric. "You're this wet for me and I haven't even touched you yet baby," Emily rose to lean back on her knees, moving her hands to rest upon your thighs.

“Please Em, do anything, I just need you,” you whispered back, sitting up as you watched her rise from the bed, walking over to the floor length mirror you had taken the picture in. She picked it up and adjusted it so that it leaned against the wall in front of your bed, such that you were now gazing at your own naked reflection.

Your attention, however, was quickly drawn back to Emily, who had now stripped her t-shirt and sweatpants off her body, leaving her in just a plain black sports bra and a matching pair of boxers. She walked back over to the bed, settling against the headboard and planting her feet flat on the bed to take a seat behind you.

"Come here baby," she requested, and with such a low, sultry tone, how could you resist for even a second? You quickly turned onto your hands and knees, crawling up the expanse of your California king bed to kneel in between her thighs, capturing her lips once again.

You took the chance to tease Emily back a bit, taking control of the kiss by biting and dragging out her bottom lip before slipping your tongue back into her mouth, moaning eagerly into her as your hands tugged at the straps of her sports bra.

She didn't allow you to continue for long, grabbing your waist and manhandling your back into her front before you could take off her bra. She traced her hands down your body, grabbing the back of your thighs to rest them over her bent legs, spreading you open in front of the mirror.

"You see how wrecked you are for me?" She mumbled into your ear, you watched as her tattooed hands kneaded at your hickey covered tits, pinching and tugging at your nipples once again. "Mhm," you nodded, biting your bottom lip to hold back the moans threatening to spill from your lips.

Emily, however, wouldn't accept that as an answer. She grabbed your jaw firmly with her right hand, using her thumb to pull your lip out in between your teeth. "None of that tonight ma, I wanna hear you properly, whether your answering me," she spoke softly, beginning to suck hickeys into the unmarked side of your neck, "swearing," she flicked her tongue out to soothe a particularly rough area, the skin already turning purple, "or moaning my name, begging me for more," she whispered into your ear.

Your brain turned to mush at her words, which meant you didn't notice how her left hand dropped from massaging your breast to reach your cunt as she was whispering filthy things into your ear, turning you on even more. A borderline pornographic moan tore from the back of your through as Emily finally pressed her middle and ring fingers onto your clit, rubbing small circles at first.

You threw your head back against her shoulder as your body arched against her, desperate moans spilling from your lips as your hips moved upwards to search for more friction in her touch. Her right hand wrapped around your waist, holding down your bottom half before she quickly lifted her fingers from rubbing circles on your clit to lightly slapping it, not nearly hard enough to hurt, but the pressure was enough for your head to shoot up at the sparks it sent through your core.

"I want you to watch yourself in the mirror, you stop looking and I stop touching you, okay baby?" Emily insisted, her fingers only moving down from your clit to trace your folds after you agreed, dragging her fingers to collect the arousal dripping from your entrance back up to your clit, this time adding more pressure onto your clit.

Your body squirmed in her hold, your mouth emitting a near constant stream of desperate whines, begging Emily for more. "C'mon ma, tell me what you want from me," she murmured, her breath warm against the bruised skin of your neck. "Fuck me, please Emily, need you to fuck me so bad I," your words were cut off by a guttural moan leaving your mouth as she plunged two fingers into your sopping heat, the prolonged foreplay had made you so wet she slipped in without any discomfort.

Your eyes fluttered, as your body melted into hers, illegible pleas, swears, and cries of ecstasy continuously fell from your lips, all the while maintaining eye contact with Emily through the mirror. Her fingers increasing their speed as she plunged a third into you, continuing to pump in and out of you, curling into you with such precision you preened her grasp, rolling your hips forward to meet her thrusts. In the process, the heel of her palm brushed against your clit, causing you to writhe in her arms, all the while Emily ducked her head down to suck at your sweet spot.

Her name fell from your lips repeatedly, the coil in your abdomen was so close to snapping, you could almost taste how close your orgasm was. Sensing this from how tight your cunt was squeezing her fingers, she moves her unoccupied hand up to your nipples, roughly tugging at them while she moved her lips up to whisper filth into your ear.

"Just like that baby... see how pretty you look while taking my fingers, my dirty little slut getting off on being finger fucked in front of a mirror, thought about fucking you like this all day... such a good girl for me," her continuous praise and encouragements, combined with the sensation of her playing with your tits, her fingers curling so deep inside of you, and her palm providing friction to your clit was all too much for you to withstand any longer.

Your moans turned into near screams as you finally came, your orgasm hitting you full-force as your legs shook on top of Emily's, full body shudders coursing through you as Emily continued to fuck into you at the same pace, insistent on having you ride out the full extent of your orgasm.

As your orgasm finally began to subside, your body going limp against hers, Emily slowed the pace of her fingers until they stilled within you. To distract you from the emptiness she knew you felt as she withdrew her fingers from your soaking cunt, she peppered kisses along the side of your face and placed a few gentle pecks on you lips accompanied with soft praises as you tuned to face her.

She brought her fingers up to your lips, shoving them into your mouth so you could clean off your own slick, humming as she felt your tongue swirling around her fingers. After popping your mouth off her fingers, you removed your legs from on top of hers, twisting your body around in her grip to face her as your hands reached upwards to cup her face, pulling her mouth down to yours in a searing kiss, all the while your knee pressed into her core.

You were acutely aware of the fact that you hadn't even touched Emily yet, and as stubborn as she was, you could feel the throbbing of her pussy against your knee, and you would be damned if you didn't get her off after the earth-shattering orgasm she gave you.

Your lips continue to move roughly against hers, attempting to establish dominance and only separating when you tugged her sports bra over head. Your lips met the soft skin of her neck, peppering gentle kisses as you knew you couldn't leave hickeys on such a visible area just two days before her next game.

You continued placing kisses to her chest, circling her nipple with your tongue as right hand reached down to cup her warm cunt through her boxers, forcing an airy moan from her. You were able to feel through the fabric how aroused she had gotten from making you cum.

You paused your ministrations to retract your hands from her body, moving to grab at the waistband of her boxers, the only material still separating the two of you. You looked up at her glazed over eyes, nonverbally checking for her consent. Emily's past relationships and hookups always had the same dynamic, she gave a lot more than she received, if they even made an effort to reciprocate her pleasure.

With you, that was never the case. You were just as concerned with Emily's satisfaction as she was yours, despite her having the more dominant personality, you almost never allowed her to leave without at least one orgasm.

With her approval and the slight lift of her hips, you discarded her underwear, laying down on your stomach and spreading open her thighs to be eye-level with her glistening cunt. "All this just from watching my reflection Em?" You teased, your breath warm against her inner thighs as you sucked and nipped at the skin closest to her center, knowing no one would be able to see the bruises left there.

"Yeah baby, it's all for you," she breathed our, grabbing your tousled hair into a makeshift ponytail, using it to guide you closer to her sopping pussy. Even now, she still Deciding she had waited long enough, you dove your tongue into her, licking a long stripe from her entrance up to her throbbing clit, causing her to throw her head back into the headboard as she moaned deeply.

"Right there ma, just like that," she encouraged as you devoured her, running your tongue through her folds to lap at her leaking arousal like a woman starved. You gather her wetness to move up and press your tongue flat against her clit, sucking and lapping at her bud. "Oh fuck baby, doing so good for me," her hips moving up to meet your mouth.

She groaned loudly as you began to hum against her clit, holding her hips tighter as moved down to her entrance again, dipping your tongue to curl into her as your nose moved against her clit, her orgasm quickly approaching from the friction you provided. You moved back up to her clit, knowing just what she needed to be pushed over the edge.

You latched onto her nub, sucking and slightly grazing her with your teeth, humming and pressing into her as she came with a throaty moan, pushing your head deeper into her to draw out as much of her orgasm as possible.

You continued to suck at her for a few moments after, slowly reducing your touch to a few soft kitten licks as her body went limp against the headboard, relaxing fully as you detached your lips from her, rubbing your hands up and down her thighs.

Her thumb wiped the slick that covered your lips and dripped down your chin, grinning at your wrecked state. “Worth the wait ma?” Her smug but somehow genuine demeanor took in the blissed out expression on your face, exhausted from your previous activities.

“Well worth Em, should mess with you more often if this is what happens,” you beamed, only half joking. “Yea right, try that again and I won’t be so nice next time, I could barely make a single shot at practice,” she grumbled, leaning in to place a gentle kiss on your lips, crawling off the bed to grab a washcloth from your joint bathroom. Your reflection had truly served you well today.

[woso-dreamzzz]

Munchkin's Halloween

Beth Mead x Vivianne Miedema x Child!Reader

Summary: The ninth of my Halloween-centric fics

"Oh, wow," Viv coos," Look at-"

"No!" You snap quickly," Mama, no!"

"No?"

"Eyes closed!" You order," Not finished!"

Viv laughs, playing along and covering her eyes with your hands.

It had been a surprise for her to come down for the rest of the week but the surprise had worn off at some point during dinner last night when you told Viv she smelt weird and needed to get in the shower after the hours she spent driving down in the car.

You and Beth spent a lot of time at training with Arsenal, up and out of the house for club Halloween before Viv had even woken up this morning.

That's part of the reason why Viv is playing along right now.

Your Halloween costume has remained a mystery to her with the move up to Manchester. Your life is based in London, at least most of the time.

There's already childcare sorted out down here and while you like coming to City training to hang out with the girls, at Arsenal you've got Laura and Lotte and everyone else who you've known since coming home.

London is home and Viv gets that.

It just means she hears more than she sees when it comes to you during the season.

Including what your Halloween costume is.

She's already got a bit of an idea, from Beth not being able to keep a secret and the glimpse she just got before you insisted she close her eyes.

"Myle!" Viv hears you call. "Myle, here! In! In, Myle!"

She smothers her laughter as the yapping of Myle while you scold her.

"Can I open my eyes now, Munchkin?"

"Hmmm," You hum," Eyes closed, Mama. Mummy! Mummy! Muuuummy!"

Viv keeps her hands over her eyes as the soft footsteps of Beth pad over from the kitchen.

"Yes?"

"Myle not get in the basket."

Beth laughs a little and there's a bit of a rustle before you finally speak again.

"Kay, Mama! Eyes open!"

Viv's heart swells as she looks at you, all dressed up like Dorothy with Myle in a basket like Toto the dog.

"Look at you," Viv coos," Give me a little twirl!"

"That's what Auntie Lolo say!" You say, delighted as you twirl around," And Auntie Laura say I look good!"

"Well they were right." Viv kneels down in front of you, pulling at your dress and petting Myle's head. "You look so good."

"Mummy-Mummy say that I'm from Wiz' o' Oz."

"Wizard of Oz, that's right," Viv says," You're Munchkin like the munchkins and Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz."

"Everyone was very impressed with her costume," Beth says, coming back into the living room with some snacks and a little bucket with an even smaller pumpkin face on it.

"Ky-Ky gave lots o' sweeties!" You say, rummaging in your little bucket before dumping it all out onto Viv's lap," Yay! Sweeties! Yay!"

Beth very gently takes one of your wildly grabbing hands before you can snatch one of the Haribo packets.

"Only a few, Munchkin. Remember? We share."

"Share!" You repeat," I share!"

With your free hand, you grab a still wrapped piece of taffy and try to shove it into Viv's mouth.

"We share!" You say to Beth, head bobbing up and down just as Myle escapes from the basket, bounding over to sit in your lap. "Myle! We share!"

Viv grabs your second free hand quickly. "How about we don't feed Myle human sweets? We can give her puppy treats."

"Okay! Puppy treats! Puppy treats, Myle!"

You hurry up quickly, nearly tripping over your Dorothy dress on your way to the kitchen.

"I'll go and help her," Beth says with a sigh," Before she tries to climb the counters again. Can you pull up the movies? I've got a few of them lined up."

"We're letting her watch Halloween movies?" Viv says doubtfully, face twisted in disbelief.

"Kid's movies," Beth corrects," Nothing too scary. I checked. Do you know we've never shown her the Wizard of Oz? I thought we could start there."

"Good idea," Viv says," But I feel like the witch could scare her a bit."

Beth grins, flexing her arms jokingly. "You see these guns? I can protect her."

Viv rolls her eyes. "Go and use those guns to help our kid before she tries to break into the chocolate cupboard again. Then we'll see which one of us she wants to protect her from the scary witch."

[lilasamaaa]

Havana | Charles Leclerc & Carlos Sainz x Reader

Genre | Angst, Hurt, Smut.

Word count | 5.0K

Warnings | Sexual content, alcohol consumption, cheating, some gaslighting, heartbreak!!

Summary | Reader and Charles, who've been dating for a few years, go on a trip to Cuba between two races. A few days before leaving, they learn that Carlos and Rebecca will be staying at the same resort. Good news, right? Well, if you forget Carlos and reader's years-long mutual attraction. Inspired by the « She chose me/Did she? » trend on TikTok… with a twist.

Author's note | Lord... This was so filthy I'm sorry. This piece is the result of this poll! Wrote half of this listening to These Walls by Dua Lipa, the other with Never Be The Same by Camila Cabello. Just so you get the mood. Not proofread, sorry!

She had been waiting for these holidays for months.

Since the beginning of the season, she hadn't been able to travel with Charles to any race, having no available days off. She was jealous of the others wags. The influencers. The ones who could rearrange their schedules in the blink of an eye to follow their boyfriends to the other side of the world without thinking about the consequences. But she'd foolishly chosen to pursue studies, foolishly found a job in marketing, foolishly trapped herself without even realizing it. She loved her job. Or at least, that's what she repeated to herself every morning when her alarm went off at 6 a.m. Sharp.

She had followed the start of the season through her TV and phone, and had savored every brief moment Charles had spent in Monaco (which represented, like... twenty days, tops, since the beginning of March). She knew she couldn't complain. That she didn't have the right to. She'd chosen to share her life with a high-level and high-profile athlete, and this situation couldn't obviously be all positive. She knew that other women would have sold their souls to be in her place. To wake up next to Charles, even just once a month. So, she never complained. She endured.

Charles had returned from China two days earlier, and they were heading to Cuba this afternoon, preparing for ten days of pure bliss. She was euphoric. Delighted not to set her alarm for the next day, delighted not to see her boss and colleagues for ten days, delighted to spend time with Charles. There wasn't a cloud in the sky. Yet... There was something.

Yesterday night, at the restaurant, as they were making the final preparations, Charles' phone had lit up on the table and the driver had grabbed it, staring at the screen for a few seconds before exclaiming, "Non, j'y crois pas!". She had shot him a questioning look, and her boyfriend had chuckled before saying "Carlos just texted me. Him and Rebecca are staying at the same resort as us in Havana. This is gonna be so cool."

Oh.

She hadn't responded, just smiled, and returned her attention to the plate of pasta in front of her. Carlos was... a friend. Well, it was actually hard to define. He was obviously primarily Charles' friend, but they had crossed paths quite regularly in the past few years, and naturally, they had hit it off. There was just one issue. One tiny thing.

The man drove her crazy. It was ridiculous. Almost humiliating. She had been sharing her life with Charles for four years. She was happy. She was in love! But... She couldn't deny that Carlos made her feel things that Charles never had. Just the thought of acknowledging this made her want to throw up.

She had never acted on her impulses. Absolutely never. But... she could have. She had noticed glances.

It had started one evening at the restaurant, in 2021, when the two Ferrari drivers had organized a double date for their partners to meet. She had immediately loved Isa, with whom she had hit it off right away. The dinner had gone admirably well, the food was amazing, the wine delicious. The wine. There had been too much of it. They all probably thought so, seeing the bottles go by, but no one had stopped. No one wanted to be the one to break the great mood of the evening. So, they’d drank. Again and again.

If at the beginning of the meal, Carlos had just been casting curious glances in her direction, the wine had changed that. By the time Charles was explaining to Isa how they had met, the Spaniard was piercing her with his gaze. Equally intoxicated and never one to back down from a challenge, she had not flinched at the driver's boldness, holding his gaze, not even blinking. It had lasted a minute. Maybe two. Or even five, before Charles had asked her the name of the movie they'd seen on their third date, you know, the one with the mansion, and she’d finally tore her gaze away from Carlos.

"I believe that was Knives Out," she'd replied, smiling fondly at her boyfriend.

The conversation had resumed its course, and a few hours later, the two couples had parted ways. Lying in bed, in the middle of the night, she could still feel Carlos' burning gaze on her. That could have been nothing. She could always blame it on the wine. But there'd been more.

One day, Charles had suggested that she came with him to an interview he was going to do with Carlos. "It won't take long," he had said. "And as soon as it's over, we'll go grab a bite at that Mexican restaurant you love". She had agreed. The questions had started simple.

"What would be your perfect day?"

"What's your pre-race tradition?"

"Describe your ideal woman"

Even though she had been browsing her phone for a while, absorbed by the device, this question had made her look up. Locking eyes with Charles, the driver had smiled at her before answering.

"That's rather easy to answer, because I've already found her. My ideal woman is career-oriented. She works hard, doesn't count her hours. She wants to succeed because she deserves it, not because she's dating me. She excels in everything she undertakes. She sets no limits for herself, fears nothing. Tries everything. She can be uncompromising, but she knows how to be gentle and caring. She has weaknesses, but she only shows them to me. I am her refuge, and she is mine."

She had smiled, touched, blowing a kiss to her boyfriend.

"Carlos?" the interviewer had said.

"My ideal woman..." the Spaniard had started, searching for his words. "Actually, I have the same, erm… taste as Charles. But I would add that my ideal woman isn't afraid to make mistakes. She allows herself to make wrong choices, to take the wrong path. It's okay, she will always find her way back," he had added, looking her straight in the eyes. That bastard can't be for real, she'd thought.

The last... "incident" had occurred at the end of last season. It hadn't been easy, but she had managed to get time off, and she had joined Charles in Abu Dhabi for the last race of the season. Her boyfriend had finished fifth in the championship, and everyone : drivers, engineers, girlfriends, had ended up at the club to celebrate Max's victory.

She wasn't a fan of nightclubs. She was very migraine-prone, and the music, combined with the neon lights, didn't do well with her. Feeling the pain starting behind her eyes, she had signaled to Charles that she was going outside, and despite his insistence, she had convinced him to stay inside, wanting him to enjoy the evening. In the dark corridor leading outside, she had closed her eyes for a second. No more. Just to relieve the pain for a moment. And she had bumped into someone, of course.

The someone being Mister Sainz himself. Of course.

"I'm sorry," she'd said, still rubbing her eyes.

"Are you alright?"

"Just a migraine."

"Here," he'd said, leading her outside. "Let's get some calm."

She was surprised to see no one outside. Granted, it was already late, almost 4 a.m., and many people had left the club already. But still, she'd expected to see a few people. Smokers, at least...

"Charles fought well," Carlos had said, leaning against a wall.

"Yeah. He'll be champion one day."

"Of course," the Spaniard had say, grinning. "He'll have the cup." A pause. "And the girl."

"What's that supposed to mean?" she'd replied, pretending not to understand.

"Everything Charles wants, Charles gets."

She wasn't in the mood for this. Not tonight. Even if she found it hard to meet the Spaniard's gaze. Even if feeling his eyes on her made her shiver. Even if she could feel her lower abdomen tighten every time the driver's smooth voice reached her ears.

"Maybe everything Charles has, Charles fought for," she had replied.

"Oh yeah? Is that the secret?" Carlos had asked, coming closer.

"There's no secret."

"Do you want me to fight for you?" he had added, so close that she could feel his breath on her neck.

"You must have misunderstood," she'd said, finally meeting his gaze. "I'm talking about the championship."

Carlos had let out a laugh. An ironic, mocking laugh. Disappointed, almost. A laugh that meant "You and I understood each other perfectly well, but you won't dare go further". And she hadn't dared. Casting one last glance, she had gone back inside, leaving him alone under the stars of Baku.

She hadn't seen him since. Good riddance.

"I still can't believe it," Charles had said, yesterday night, taking a spoonful of his tiramisu. "At least, you won't be alone when I go golfing. I haven't seen much of Rebecca, but she seems very nice. I'm sure you two will get along well."

"So that's it? Our romantic vacation just turned into a friend's getaway?" she'd asked, almost offended.

"No, of course not. I'm sorry, mon coeur. We'll spend as much time together as possible, but... it could be nice to do a thing or two with them, right? I thought you loved Carlos."

The sentence had overwhelmed her with guilt.

"I like Carlos. I loved Isa, though," she'd answered, pouting, while Charles looked at her with soft eyes.

"Yeah, I know. But we have to come to terms with the fact that we won't see Isa again. Or, at least, not with Carlos." the driver had said, rising from his seat. "I'll pay, will you wait for me outside?"

Three days and three flights later, she's sitting at the hotel restaurant table, facing Carlos, wondering what Charles could have possibly misunderstood in her request a few days earlier. We'll spend as much time together as possible, yeah, right, she thinks, clearly annoyed.

"It's a pleasure to officially meet you, Rebecca," Charles says, giving the model a big smile. "Carlos must only have eyes for you, because I hear about you every other day."

She chokes on her drink. The whole table looks at her.

"Sorry," she says. "Ice cubes."

The conversation resumes, Rebecca proving to be very interesting. And apparently very much in love with Carlos, she thinks as she watches the blue-eyed blonde. She doesn't like the pinch she feels in her heart. She doesn't even want to put a name on it. It doesn't matter.

"I'm so happy that you’re here," Rebecca says after a while. "I can't wait to spend more time with you all," she finishes with a big smile.

"Yeah. Can't wait," Carlos says, turning his gaze away from Rebecca's eyes. Finding hers.

The following days pass without incident. Charles divides his day between the hotel pool, the golf course, and their bed, where they make love several times a day. If for some time she had the feeling that they were less close, everything seems forgotten under the Cuban sun.

One day, while she was riding Charles particularly loudly, the driver's hands digging into her hips in a deliciously painful way, someone had knocked on their bedroom door. Surprised, they had stopped suddenly, like teenagers caught red-handed, before Charles had jumped out of bed, grabbing a towel on the go.

"You're not actually going to open the door, are you?" she had asked, hidden under the sheets, with only her head out.

"You never know, what if it's urgent... Like... A fire?" her boyfriend had replied before opening the door.

It very obviously hadn't been urgent, and she had felt like dying of embarrassment when she'd seen Carlos's smug face on the other side of the door. He'd quickly glanced past Charles to look at her. Very obviously naked.

"Sorry to interrupt," he'd said, accent thick, licking his lips. "We had agreed to meet ten minutes ago to go play tennis."

"Did we? Oh my god, I'm sorry," Charles had said, closing the door behind him, running to the bathroom to change. Ten minutes later, both of them had left and she’d found herself alone in the room. Hot and bothered.

In the evening, to make up for leaving her alone all day, a very tanned Charles had invited her to a fancy restaurant in Havana, before taking her dancing. She had loved that night, so close together in the anonymity of the Cuban capital. She would have liked to prolong the festivities, to pick up where they had left off, but as soon as they'd returned to the room, Charles had laid down "for five minutes," and had been snoring ever since.

A faint knock echoes against the door of the room, and she gets up discreetly, careful not to wake Charles.

"You've got to be kidding me..." she starts, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Are you sleeping in front of our door or something?" she spits out, annoyed to find herself facing the Spaniard for the second time today.

"Charles forgot this," he says, handing her a towel. A towel with the hotel logo. What is she supposed to do with that? There are plenty of them in the closets. She stares at him intensely, arching a brow. Making no move to retrieve the towel.

"Can I come in?" he finally asks after a few seconds.

Without a word, she steps aside, revealing the room, and the bed where Charles is still snoring.

"Wow," Carlos says, walking into the room, laughing. "He's fucking knackered. I might have gone a bit hard on him this afternoon."

"What did you do?" she asks, clearly unamused.

"Nothing special. Made him run a bit." he replies, smirking. "I'm so sorry if you'd planned to finish what you'd started earlier," eyes boring into hers.

"You're a little shit," she says, disappearing into the bathroom.

She thought he would take the hint. Understand that his presence was no longer desired. In the bathroom, she takes off her earrings in front of the mirror, the door to the bedroom wide open, when the Spaniard appears behind her.

"Are you happy with him?" he asks, leaning against the door frame.

"What kind of fucked up question is that?" she snaps, turning to face him.

"A simple one," Carlos says, eyeing her intensely.

"What are you even doing here?" she asks, turning once again to grab her hairbrush from the countertop. "Shouldn't you be fucking your girl or something?"

Her hate-filled sentence makes him pause for a moment, seeking her gaze in the mirror. Faced with his silence, she lifts her head, meeting his gaze in the mirror.

"I had other plans," he states.

"Well, go fuck someone else then," she says, vehemently brushing her hair. She doesn't realize what she's said until the driver presses his chest against her back, gently pinning her against the countertop. She lets go of the brush, holding the surface with both hands, trying to regain composure. His mouth slides along her neck, making her whole body shiver. He's still watching her in the mirror as he gently bites her earlobe with his teeth.

"You're the nastiest person I've ever met," she says, letting a moan escape her lips as the driver slides his hands under her top.

"I've been dreaming of this for years," he says, running his fingers up along her stomach. "Morals be damned."

In the mirror, she casts a glance at Charles, still asleep on the bed. She can't do this. She's not like that. She's never cheated on any of her partners, let alone him. He doesn't deserve that, she thinks, closing her eyes as Carlos licks her neck.

"We can't do this to Charles," she says, panting. "To Rebecca."

"Rebecca will be gone by dawn if you ask," Carlos replies, gripping her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze.

"What about him?" she breathes, eyes sliding down his lips. "I can't do it, Carlos. I love him."

"Do you?" he asks, still holding her chin. "Say it one more time, and I swear I won't kiss you. I'll go back to my room and pretend nothing ever happened. We can even share breakfast in the morning, all four of us."

"I..." she stutters, closing her eyes.

"I'm about to do something incredibly reckless. I just need you to tell me if you're okay with it."

She doesn't reply. She just looks into his eyes, and crosses the distance between them. Their mouths collide violently, and both moan in unison, desperately clinging to each other. Her hands get lost in his hair, running along his scalp before pulling at the roots, eliciting a growl from him. He kisses her, biting her lips, encircling her face with his hands. His hands. His hands are everywhere. In her hair, on her back, on her butt. She feels like he's touching her everywhere at once, and his touch... His touch is burning, awakening things she's never felt. With anyone. She feels like molten lava. Like electricity.

He doesn't waste a second. He's too scared she'll snap out of it, change her mind. In one swift motion of the arm, he picks her up, sitting her down on the countertop, spreading her legs with his own body. His lips never leave her : he's exploring her neck, her mouth, her cheeks, her forehead, anything to get a taste of her.

He's afraid that he'll only have her that one time. That he'll have to live forever in the memory of that night. So he memorizes everything. The beauty mark at the corner of her mouth. The one on her neck. The fine white scar above her eyebrow. The tiny wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, the ones she earned through years of hearty laughter. He sniffs her, almost like an animal, absorbing her perfume until his head spins. He's so desperate, so pathetic for her, and he would probably be embarrassed by his own behavior if she weren't doing the same on her side. Her fingers trace every vein in his arms, every muscle in his back. She runs her tongue over his teeth, bites his lips, tugs at his hair as if she wanted to keep a lock of it in a necklace.

So far, they had just been kissing. Something she would have a very hard time justifying to Charles, but which could be ruled as a... distasteful accident. But as Carlos grabs her top, making her raise her arms in the air to take it off, immediately going for her breasts, she knows it's too late. That there will be no turning back. She's panting now, and over the shoulder of the Spaniard, as his mouth finds one of her nipples, she steals a glance at her boyfriend. Sound asleep. Unaware.

Carlos continues his descent, lower and lower, tracing a path with his tongue from her breasts to her belly button and down to her lower abdomen. Urgently, almost savagely, he tears off her floral skirt and her thong with both hands in one harsh movement, throwing them on the floor. He's been so impatient, so hurried all this time that when he finally kneels before her, her entire body tenses, bracing for impact.

But the impact doesn't happen.

Not yet. Carlos softly plants kisses on her pubic mound. On the insides of her thighs. On her knees. Anywhere but where she needs him the most.

"Please," she begs, breathless. "Please don't make me wait."

"I've been waiting for four years," he replies, looking at her through his long lashes, amber eyes diving into hers, "You'll survive a few more seconds."

When his mouth finally meets her core, she tilts her head back, moaning. He's slow. So deliberately slow. For years, she's driven him crazy, obsessing over every thought of hers. His revenge is childish. Immature. He's not proud of it, but he wants to drive her insane. To see her lose her mind because of him, just for once. She's having none of it, bucking her hips until his nose gets lost in her folds and finally, he snaps. Grabbing her by the ass, he brings her impossibly closer, lapping, nibbling, biting, even. Her back is pressed against the mirror, one leg over his shoulder, the other hanging down. She's closing her eyes, covering her mouth. Her moans. Praying that Charles hears nothing. Sees nothing.

With the tips of her toes, she finds his groin. Her touch is so soft. Barely there. His response is immediate, and she feels his growl reverberate through her entire core. Continuing his assault, his fingers join his mouth as he circles her clit before inserting one inside of her. Then two. He's watching her, somehow getting harder every time she moans, every time she tugs at his hair.

"I need you," she says between two breaths. "I don't know how much time we have, and I... I need to feel you inside."

He could have passed out right here, just hearing those words leave her lips. He rises, capturing her lips again, while she takes hold of his t-shirt, stripping it off. And then, they hug. Their skins are burning with desire, but there's nothing sexual here. For a few seconds, they stay like that, absolutely silent. Clinging to each other. The embrace tears them both apart. It's almost violent, suffocating, the way all those what's ifs, we could haves and others if only we'd knowns fill the room in those few seconds. The hug is heavy with things that'll never be. Things that'll never leave this embrace. This room. Feeling something wet reach his shoulder, Carlos pulls back. She's crying.

He seizes her lips again, yet this kiss feels so different from the previous ones. It's no longer a kiss of lust, of desire. It's a farewell kiss. He knows it. She knows it too.

Her hands crawl along his chest until they reach the button of his pants, which she pops open with a flick of expert fingers. He helps her remove the garment, which also falls to the ground, along with all the others. In this room, in this Cuban hotel, they are finally completely naked, pressed against each other. He kisses her again, intoxicated by her, her scent, her taste, while his hand finds his cock, stroking it gently. He's so lost in her, he almost doesn't notice her own hand chasing his, stroking him softly. And then, in a new kiss, he presses against her before entering her.

For a few moments, neither of them moves. He, concentrating like never before to not finish there and now. She, accepting the idea that another man than Charles has taken her, and that nothing will ever be the same again. Charles, she thinks, glancing towards the bedroom where her boyfriend has turned over, still asleep, but facing them. He's so close. So close to opening an eye and seeing his girlfriend and his teammate pressed against each other, forehead to forehead. Skin to skin. She's still looking at Charles when Carlos begins to move inside her, holding her tightly in his arms, pressing their chests together in an incredibly sensual motion.

"Tell me what you like. Tell me anything and I'll do it," he says, thrusting softly into her. "I want you to remember this. To remember me."

"I want you to make love to me as if I were yours."

It stings. It stings so fucking much, because the phrase reminds him that she doesn't belong to him. It stings because she's not entirely Charles' anymore, yet she'll never be entirely his either. From this night on, she'll be condemned to wander between them, to float between their desires, their loves. No matter how tightly he holds onto her, no matter how tight she feels around him, he'll never call her his. He obeys nevertheless, quickening his pace, capturing her lips.

His movements are precise, surgical. He feels her contracting around him, and the sensation drives him wild. Her hands are around his neck, seeking balance, support. His pace intensifies even more when he realizes something.

"Say my name," he asks, panting.

She knows why he asks for it, why he needs to hear it, so she doesn't question him.

"Carlos," she says, kissing him. "You're making me feel so good."

And it's true. In a way, it has nothing to do with his movements, with his skills as a lover. All those that he very surely possesses, but are only secondary tonight. It goes beyond that. It's about their connection. With each thrust, Carlos floods her with love, adoration, longing, with so many sensations that leave her feeling deliciously overwhelmed. He doesn't need to say it. Yet, in one thrust, one harsher than the others, he does.

"I love you", he breathes against her skin.

"I know," she says, holding his jaw with one hand, making him look at her, their lips brushing. "I've loved you all this time," she whispers back.

Her revelation must unlock something within him because suddenly, he lifts her, pressing her against the bathroom wall opposite from the sink, as she lets out a surprised cry, feeling him deeper than before. His thrusts resume, stronger, more aggressive. It's a good thing he's holding her as if his life depended on it, because everything is too much : the sensation of his body against hers, their feelings laid bare, the sounds he makes... Her head suddenly feels light, and she rests it in the crook of his neck as he continues to take her so deliciously.

She comes back to herself when she feels something stir in the pit of her stomach, something that takes her breath away.

"Carlos..." she starts.

"Tell me, baby," he replies, biting her ear. "Tell me everything."

"I'm feeling... I don't know... I'm feeling so, so good" she says, incoherent.

"Are you close?" he asks, still pouding into her.

"I've never felt anything like this," she says, panting. "Anything like you."

Then, everything explodes.

She can't hold back her scream, not caring about anything anymore, not even Charles, a few feet away. She's clinging to her lover, scratching his back. Trying to catch her breath. She clenches around him so tightly that he loses control, spilling into her in three thrusts, grunting.

"Give it to me, Carlos," she says. "I can take it. I can take you."

"Mi amor," he says, out of breath. "You're killing me," he adds, still thrusting into her, shooting some more ropes of cum into her cunt while groaning. "Te amo, te amo, te amo," he says, kissing her face.

The two bodies collapse on the floor, against the wall, nestled together in the intimacy of the small bathroom. She shivers, and he grabs a towel to wrap around her. Neither of them says a word. What is there to say, after all? Here, between these four tiled walls, they've already said everything. Shown everything. They've never been closer to each other. They've never been closer to anyone else. They'll probably never experience something like that ever again.

A few steps away from them, a sound of crumpled bedding alerts both of them.

"Babe?" comes Charles' sleepy voice, as their blood turn cold and she rises up impossibly fast to close the bathroom door, wobbling a bit, legs still weak after her orgasm.

"Go back to sleep, baby", she says loudly. "I'm just taking a shower."

There's no response, so after a few seconds, she opens the door again, seeing that Charles has fallen back asleep. Mouth slightly open.

"You have to go," she states, turning back to face Carlos, still sitting on the floor. Carlos stands up, and both of them dress in a heavy silence before quietly tip-toeing across the room. Once in the empty hallway, she gently closes the door of the room she shares with her boyfriend before letting out a breath. He knows what's coming. Something breaks in his eyes, and she feels her heart shatter.

"I meant everything," she says, head low. "I meant every word, every kiss. I'll forever regret the night we just shared, but not in the way you might think. I will regret for the rest of my life ever experimenting this happiness with you and having to let go of it. I love you, Carlos, like I've never loved anyone. That's why we shouldn't see each other again."

His dark eyes bore into hers, almost threateningly.

"Why?" he asks, raising his voice, and she winces, terrified that, on the other side of the door, Charles might wake up again. "Why stop yourself from being happy? Why give up on me?"

"I found a ring," she confesses, struggling to meet his gaze. "In his suitcase. He's going to propose to me, Carlos."

"If that's what it takes to have you forever, let me do it before him," he says, dropping to one knee as she looks away, tears welling up in her eyes. One more thing he'll have taken from Charles, she thinks. He'll forever be the first man to ever kneel before me. And he'll never even know this.

"Please, get up," she says, her voice trembling with a sob.

He does, and when he looks at her again, his eyes are filled with tears.

"Good night, Carlos," she says, taking a step back, holding the door knob to her room. She's gone in an instant, leaving him alone in the poorly lit hallway at half past three in the morning. Her scent all over his skin, her words all over his mind, her grip all over his heart.

[seoltzuki]

Persona pt.2

jihyo x afab reader

pt.1

fluff, smut, not proofread

You exhale deeply, surrendering to the soothing cascade of warm water in the shower. It's been an exhaustive day, but finally, you're home, able to unwind.

Home—a concept once foreign to you. You used to evade the notion of settling down, fleeing from the grasp love and commitment. Yet, here you stand, in the sanctuary you share with Jihyo. Sweet Jihyo, whose tender care has become your solace.

With a grin, you reach for her body wash, ready to cleanse the day’s weariness away. Memories flood your mind—the flowers she surprises you with, the endearing notes scattered around your home, the affectionate texts that fill your days with warmth, her beautiful smile that brightens your day…

You reminisce about the journey you've embarked on together—the slow, deliberate pace she took to unravel your layers, to love every facet of your being. It wasn't until after numerous dates that intimacy blossomed between you, both nervous and shy.

But the anticipation was there. So ready to explore what makes the other’s heart race and send shivers down their spine.

It was perfect.

Blushing at the memory of your first intimate moment with Jihyo, you step out of the shower, feeling a delightful warmth lingering on your skin. Quickly, you wrap yourself in a fluffy towel, its softness a comforting embrace. Heading towards the bedroom to change, you revel in the tranquility of your shared space, the scent of Jihyo’s favorite candle wafting through the air.

As you begin to rummage through your wardrobe, the familiar creak of the front door opening catches your attention.

“Sweetheart, I’m home!” Jihyo’s cheerful voice echoes through the halls, filling the apartment with an air of joy. Unable to contain your excitement, you giggle and call out, “In the bedroom, baby!”

Listening intently, you hear her hurried footsteps approaching, the rhythmic patter of her feet a familiar melody that brings a smile to your face.

"Baby!" She exclaims as she enters the bedroom, her face lit up with the biggest smile, her eyes twinkling with affection. A goofy chuckle escapes her lips as she adjusts her crooked backwards cap, adding to her endearing charm. "I bought dinner!" she announces, her voice brimming with excitement as she walks up to you.

Feeling her warm hands slipping around your waist, you melt into her embrace, reveling in the closeness and comfort of her touch. The scent of her perfume envelopes you, filling you with a sense of home and belonging.

"How was work?" you ask, your voice filled with tenderness as you cradle her face gently in your hands, your fingertips tracing a delicate path through her hair. "Hope everything was smooth for you today," you add, your concern evident in your words, as you offer her a reassuring smile. You know it’s hard being a youth worker.

"It went well. I believe the kids are starting to warm up to me, which is nice," she reflects with a soft smile. "Oh, and today we played ball hockey, and guess what? My team won!” Her eyes sparkle with satisfaction as she shares the joyous news.

"I'm happy for you, Zyo," you say, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, your affection for her evident in the gesture. She beams at your words, her eyes sparkling with gratitude as she squeezes your sides with tenderness. Her hands glide over the soft towel wrapped around your waist, a silent expression of her love and appreciation for you.

"You smell good," she says, drawing closer, her head tilting towards you, her nose grazing your cheek and inching up towards your ear. "Did you use my body wash?" she whispers, her voice soft and playful, as she plants a sweet peck just below your ear, her affectionate gesture sending a shiver down your spine.

"Maybe," you respond cheekily, leaning into her touch as her fingers gently caress your waist. "I ran out of mine, but don't worry, I'll buy some tomorrow."

"No need, I like it when you smell like me," she murmurs back, her fingers going down and tracing gentle patterns over your thighs, sending a tingling sensation through your skin. With a tender peck to your shoulder, she leans back, sitting down on the edge of the bed, her eyes filled with affection as she admires you.

"Let me put some lotion on, and I’ll be there with you for dinner," you say sweetly. She adjusts her hat again and raises her eyebrows, a strange glint passing through her eyes.

"Let me do it for you, beautiful."

You grab the lotion and bring it to her, eyeing her suspiciously, knowing all too well that she's never one to be normal about these things. She has ulterior motives, you realize, as she takes the lotion from your hand with a sly grin, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

She gently grabs the back of your calf, guiding your leg up until your foot rests on the bed beside her. Without a word, she begins to lather your skin with lotion, her touch both tender and slow.

"It seems like your face is warming up, y/n," she teases, looking up at you warmly, her hat shifting back slightly with the motion. "Not sure if you’re blushing or-"

"I just got out of the shower," you cut her off, heat creeping up your cheeks, your words betraying what you’re truly feeling.

"Right, got it," she playfully responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye. "Other leg, baby," she adds, her tone teasing yet affectionate as she continues to pamper you with gentle strokes of lotion.

Her hands move with skillful precision, fingertips slightly digging into your skin, sending shivers down your spine. Rising higher, they glide along your leg until they disappear under the hem of your towel, her touch leaving a trail of warmth in its wake.

"You're lingering," you hush, a soft chuckle escaping your lips as you hook a finger under her chin and gently push up so she can look up at you, your eyes meeting hers with a tender intensity.

"I'm not lingering, I'm appreciating," she simply states, her voice filled with warmth and sincerity as her hand moves towards the inside of your thigh, her touch sending shivers down your spine.

Jihyo, you don’t have to—” you start, but she interrupts you with a curious “What?” before affirming, “Yes, I need to do the inside of your thighs. Do you want me to stop?” Her gaze meets yours, filled with sincerity and a hint of playful mischief, awaiting your response.

"No," you answer, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation, and she giggles, dropping her head on your knee, her laughter filling the room with warmth and affection.

The laughter dies down, and she squeezes your calf gently. "Hey, look at me," she says softly, her eyes full of warmth as her cheek squishes up against your knee. "You look so pretty. You're so beautiful," she whispers, her words sincere and heartfelt, causing your heart to swell with love.

She drops a soft kiss onto your thigh, and you gasp quietly. “Zyo…” you whine softly, your voice filled with a mixture of surprise and pleasure.

“Hm?” she responds, looking up at you innocently, her lips brushing against your skin as she drops another kiss. Her actions eliciting a soft sigh from you.

"Wanna do something for me?" she mumbles against your skin, her breath sending shivers down your spine as her hand moves up to slip her stupid backwards cap off her head.

“What now?” you ask, biting your lip, your breath catching in your throat as you feel her lay more soft, almost wet kisses on your inner thigh.

“Do you want to take one of those pretty hands of yours and put them in my hair?” she whispers, her cheeks dusted with a rosy pink hue. “Yeah, like that. Now grip a little bit and put my mouth where you actually want it,” she adds, her voice barely above a whisper, her desire evident in every word.

You’re slightly taken aback, your jaw dropping in surprise, momentarily speechless at her bold request.

Jihyo notices your reaction and playfully interrupts, saying, “Oh, we can keep being coy, or we can—Hmph!”

You pull her head forward eagerly, a soft moan escaping your lips as her mouth connects with your wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

She hums against you, her warmth enveloping you as she digs her head forward even more, her tongue swirling with sinful precision. Pulling back slightly, she looks up at you with a sweet smile and whispers, “Thank you,” her lips glistening and her voice filled with affection, leaving you breathless and so captivated.

Gosh, she’s so gorgeous…

Her big eyes looking up at you, a twinkle of love shining within them. Her furrowed brows from your taste, her curls flowing freely, tousled from your gripping hands. You give a small tug, and you watch as she rolls her eyes back, a soft moan escaping her lips as she leans into you, lost in your whole being.

“You taste so good,” she mumbles against you, her voice a husky whisper that sends shivers down your spine. With deliberate sensuality, she makes a show of slipping her tongue into your dripping heat, her movements slow and tantalizing, each touch sending electric sparks of pleasure through your body. You can’t help but arch your back, your breath hitching as she explores you with an intoxicating mix of passion and desire.

The sounds are so lewd as she feasts on your wetness, a symphony of mewls, groans, and moans filling the air around you. Between each obscene sound, she pauses to ask, “You wanna cum, baby?” Her voice is sultry, as she seeks your words, eager to push you over the edge.

Your breath hitches at her question, desire pooling low in your belly. With a desperate nod, you whisper, “Yes, please,” your voice barely audible amidst the symphony of sounds echoing in the room.

She responds with a wicked grin, her movements becoming more fervent. Her tongue and lips working tirelessly. Your senses are overwhelmed with pleasure, every touch, every stroke pushing you closer to the edge. And then, with a final, deliciously agonizing twist of her tongue, you topple over the edge, crying out her name as waves of ecstasy wash over you, leaving you trembling and breathless.

As you come down from the high, she pulls you onto her lap, wrapping her arms around you in a tight embrace, her lips finally pressing against yours. With a lazy yet passionate movement, her mouth moves against yours, allowing you to taste yourself on her lips.

“Thank you,” you whisper against her lips, giving her another gentle peck before dropping your forehead onto hers.

“Thanks for what, baby?” she asks with a smile, nuzzling your cheek affectionately.

“You’ve had a long day, and the first thing you did when you came back home was… you know…” you say shyly, locking eyes with her piercing gaze filled with love.

“I was supposed to come home to my love in a towel and not make them cum?” she scoffs playfully, her eyes dancing with amusement as she teases you.

You huff and lean in to kiss her again, trailing your lips to her jaw and neck, eliciting a soft whine from her. “Let me return the favor, yeah?” you whisper against her earlobe before giving it a playful nibble.

She hisses in response, squeezing your thighs gently. “No need,” she breathes, her voice thick with desire. “Tasting you was enough. I can wait for later, after dinner.”

Another sweet peck to her lips, and you respect her wishes, leaning back slightly. You gaze at each other adoringly, a silent exchange of love passing between you. “You okay?” you ask, a hint of teasing in your voice. “You seem… flustered,” you add, a playful twinkle in your eye as you observe her.

Jihyo shrugs, clicking her tongue as her cheeks turn even redder. Switching the topic, she gently tugs at the towel wrapped around you. “I’m surprised this stayed on,” she chuckles. “Can I? I’d like to see all of you,” she adds, her tone soft and affectionate as she meets your gaze, her eyes filled with longing.

You nod, giving her permission to remove the towel. Once it's off, she exhales softly, her eyes traveling all over your exposed skin. Her hands rise up, barely ghosting over your skin as she takes in your beauty.

"You're so beautiful," she says in awe, her admiration evident in her voice. "And so goddamn distracting! Okay, let me shower, and then we'll eat." With the cutest smile, she heads towards the bathroom, leaving you feeling adored and cherished.

But she then runs back to you, planting a sweet kiss on your lips. "I love you so much, y/n," she says earnestly before darting back to the bathroom.

“I love you so much more, Jihyo! Be quick!”

She makes you feel like the luckiest person on earth.

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 38: Lilia and Leona (pt1)

One of the earliest in-game interactions between Leona and Lilia may have come shortly after the opening ceremonies, after Leona calls both Lilia and Silver out for being overprotective of Malleus.

Leona escorts Ruggie to Diasomnia to retrieve his ceremonial robes following a dry-cleaning mistake and Lilia tells them that they are free to drop by their dorm at anytime.

Realizing that not being invited is a sensitive point for Malleus, Leona seems to intentionally bait him into an argument.

Despite how Leona repeatedly insults Malleus to his face Lilia is delighted, saying, “This is precisely the kind of experience Malleus needs.”

Leona and Lilia also overlap in a class where they, too, exchange insults back and forth with one another, before ultimately challenging each other to a one-on-one game of soccer.

Trey and Rook compliment Leona’s skills and Lilia’s agility. Who won the match is never shown.

This interaction possibly led to Leona inviting Lilia to his home for a competition, telling Lilia, “Nobody moves like you do.”

When Leona says that Lilia gives him the creeps and he would rather leave him behind, Lilia responds, “you say the nicest things. I’m blushing!”

Lilia teases Leona about Malleus and blackmails him into allowing Grim and the prefect to join them by threatening to drop out.

Lilia may be familiar with cars, offering to drive Leona’s vehicle, but he cannot remember if he has a license. He compliments Leona on his skill.

Lilia compliments Leona’s physical prowess during Cloudcalling, saying that he wasn’t able to lay a finger on Leona and, while the sun was a factor, he didn’t expect to be so far out of Leona’s league. (“Maybe I'm finally showing my age…”)

Leona tries to drive himself alone from the hotel to festival grounds, saying, “You guys got on my nerves yesterday, so I need a break,” but Lilia insists on going along with him.

(Vil: “Seems your message was not received.”)

Learning that Leona will not remain at the festival Lilia says, “I thought I could give Leona a ride on my shoulders."

Leona seems to be the only person suspicious of Lilia’s role in the drama of Spectral Soiree from the start, and he is ultimately proven to be correct.

Lilia and Leona seem to share a similar wavelength during the Playfulland event, with Leona picking up on an unspoken signal from Lilia to back him up.

[volturiprincess]

Better than a cup of coffee

Alec Volturi x human mate Warnings: Just pure fluff A/N: This one is short and sweet, i apologize to anyone who does not drink coffee but as I was writing this I was drinking coffee and I'm a coffee person anyways. I wasn't sure if I was going to work on this today but I needed some fluff and well here is it. There will be a second A/N in the end. Enjoy 🤗

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~☕️~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

(My love🖤)

I have never been a morning person, just the thought of having to wake up early makes me want to cry. I applaud the people who wake up early. But when I meet my mate Alec, mornings have officially become my favorite part of the day. What makes it so special, is Alec wakes me up with a fresh cup of coffee that he made just for me. I'm not sure how he picked up on how to make coffee or how to make it how I like it but I guess he really does pay attention to my every move in the mornings.  I have told him before that for me to function as a human I need a cup of coffee or else I will not be a delightful person to be around.

He unfortunately witnessed that side of me and has made it his mission to have that cup of coffee ready for me when I wake up. But that's not what makes it special, when he wakes me up, the first thing I see is his face. He has this small smile and his eyes are full of warmth and love that makes me feel like i'm in a dream still. He's like my personal fallen angel that I have the honor to call mine. 

This morning did not start any differently, the sunlight was gazing on me with its million mini rays hitting my face. I heard a small thud hit my nightstand, and I opened my eyes slightly to be blessed by the sight of my stunning mate looking at me already with his face slightly having that unhuman sparkle. His burgundy eyes also already having that intense but loving look he gives me whenever he looks at me, even if I probably look like crap he never fails to lose that look. 

With his small warming smile already on his face, he again blesses me with his soothing voice “Good morning sunshine, the earth says hello”

I make “grabby hands” toward him and he comes closer to lay on top of me with laying his face on my chest. I bury my face into his hair and mumble groggily 

“Someone’s been paying attention to the movies I make them watch”

“Always my love”

He tilted his head up and gave my neck multiple kisses, the temperature difference between his cold lips and my warm skin made me feel that familiar feeling of butterflies fluttering in my stomach. Being like this with him makes me forget there is a real world out there, almost makes me feel like we are the only two people on this planet. These small moments we share I hold dearly to my heart because I am the only person that gets to see Alec in such a vulnerable and relaxed form, not even Jane has seen him like this, the honor I have. While he continues to give me now soft kisses instead of multiple, I run my hands through his dark locks. I'm glad he has kind of long hair so I am able to run my hands through his hair. So soft and silky, makes me slightly jealous he has nicer hair than me but he tells me it's a vampire thing. The way his soft kisses leave me in a state of bliss that makes me mumble nonsense 

“Better than a cup of coffee”

He lifts his face to looks up at me with a pure astonish look and exclaims 

“Are you serious? But you said you always need a cup of coffee to be human”

I pull him into a deep gentle kiss that he reciprocates, I pull away and say with a small sleepy smile 

‘Your my cup of coffee now”

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A/N: So cuteeee. I like how I did a little reference of "Charlie and the Chocolate Factory" (2005), its actually my alarm sound 🤭. I just wanted to say that Im working on a Caius one-shot, this one is taking a bit longer to get done because its longer than my usual ones and I was thinking of doing a 2 part to it. But also I have my finals this week so I wont be posting to often, I may have part one of my Caius one-shot out this week but I been having some small difficulties with it and I keep changing my mind in how to write it plus studying keeps me occupied the majority of my day. But I.m happy to have gotten this one out in the open because its so sweet and adorable, I almost made it a Carlisle one-shot but as I kept thinking about this it just screamed Alec.

[baeddel]

my 1st year of hrt

i don't post here much now, but as i have shared so much of my journey with you, for so much of which i wasn't able to transition at all, i wanted to make a post about my first year on hormones.

this post will be nsfw because of frank discussion about genitals, sexual functions and sexuality. it's also long, sorry.

ORAL, INJECTIONS

i have the entire time merely done what the diy wiki told me. between the time that i first looked into it, with the sort of long and helpful advices i received from friends, up to now, the whole thing has become much more well-understood and by that measure much easier to transmit and there are more plentiful resources. so it is really easy to diy. it's also much easier to get hormones and blockers and many more kinds are available.

i started off on 50mg bica and 6mg oral estradiol. i knew i wanted to use bica becuase it's supposed to keep your horny. a major hesitation for me was losing my libido, since being an extremely high libido person has been such a core part of my identity for pretty much my entire life. it turns out i had no reason to be afriad for reasons i'll explain later, but in the end i'm not sure how much of a role the bica played in that.

the chepaest place was actually from Lillian at the time we bought it. this regimen worked out to an amount per year that i don't really have and my first year was paid for entirely by my incredible and wonderful and amazing girlfriend @shimakaze-revivalism which i am so thankful for. it worked out the best to go for oral at that time but i had no preference for it over injections; gel seemed annoying to me.

to be honest i don't really recommend all that because it's basically ten times as expensive as monotherapy with injections. good golly! i didn't realize injections were so cheap until another girlfriend pointed it out to me around the time that i was due to refill. plus, not only am i used to injecting because of diabetes, but i like needles. since starting i have fallen in love with this method; i look forward to injection day and delight and savour in the entire process. i inject intramuscularly in my thighs with a 1" needle. the needle presses my skin into a deep valley before finally piercing through at which point my thigh snaps level and swallows the needle. i salivate a little bit when i do it. it hurts for a few days wherever the needle went, sweetly. if i'm too rough it bruises. my girlfriend is frightened of neeldes and i make her watch. i take 0.1ml at 10ml/400mg which according to Transfem Science (click) is equivalent to 8mg per day of estradiol orally, a little more than i took before. i stopped taking bica so i am on estradiol monotherapy.

because Lillian had issues right around the time of my order it was delayed by a bit and i went without hormones for a little while. this was utterly miserable and felt physically awful. i'll talk about it a bit more later. then my wonderful girlfriend lent me hers after we worked some things out so that she wouldn't also be left short. so for about a week or two i was taking 4mg estradiol and some amount of finasteride; this regimen felt bad and i struggled to stay hard or cum until i changed to something else. the phenomenally sweet and kind @hypnosister was bringing some estradiol gel for me to tide me over the rest of the way (—the second time she has given me hormones to cover for my errors), but my estradiol miraculously arrived the exact same day she did, so i never used any gel.

as you can tell, the principle ingredient in my hrt regimen has been the milk of human kindness. i owe an unpayable debt of gratitude. hopefully i can be more competent and independent in the future.

BLOOD TESTS

my plan was to get tested every 4~ months and monitor my blood.

there is a private blood test service you can get here in NI. they send out a little kit and you make a sample and send it back. supposedly. so far i have not known anyone to succeed. strangely, they don't allow refunds until you've tried it three times. for me i quickly realized my problem was that i have to use a lancet to draw blood several times a day to monitor my blood sugars, which means my fingers are scarred and calloused around there already and i'd never be able to draw enough blood as the test wanted. the last test i simply sent back undisturbed; they gave me my refund.

you can instead book an appointment with private clinics they work with and they will draw blood intravenously. however, at the time, agoraphobia would have made this a profoundly difficult journey, and i started off transitioning in secret and couldn't ask anyone for help getting there. so in the end i haven't been getting blood tested at all and don't really know what my hormones are and don't know how my liver is doing. this isn't ideal, but things are starting to change for me; i am now out at home, and what's more, i have started to beat my agoraphobia (!) and can get about now on public transport on my own. so i will go in a few months to monitor how my injections are doing.

SIDE EFFECTS

when i first started i was extremely nauseous. this went away after a month or so. after that there were simply no negative side-effects.

going off of hormones felt bad, but it was as bad as i felt before going on hormones. being on hormones simply feels much better; i'll talk more about that later.

LIBIDO, BONERS AND CUM

as i mentioned this was my biggest hesitation before starting. my libido had always been so high as to be debilitatingly intense. i would masturbate several times a day. if i hadn't masturbated recently i would be unable to concentrate; i would be so horny i'd get dizzy, feel faint... something in me had to be ceaselessly arrested, cooled, soothed and put away, shortly to lift its hatch and claw at me again. in a lot of ways it was really a big problem in my life and looking back it wasn't a good thing. but it was who i was and i was scared of losing it. it also seemed like an important component of maintaining a lot of sexual relationships. or was it the special solvent that held all my work together? a manic energy. without which i would become slovely and pointless.

erections are also of course an important part of performing in the way i was used to; and i could cum a lot. like, a lot. thick, goopy, white cum. which girls like. because i am not attractive in any other measure, giving up this source of puissance felt like giving up everything. so it was really frightening to me to be honest. these are all ways that the idea of a loss of libido or sexual function felt like the end of myself as a person.

this is i understand probably a distorted source of self-worth, but, in any case, hormones did not in fact oblige me to give it up, and i worried for nothing. hormones drastically improved my sexuality in every single respect. first of all, it did hurt my libido, but only so much as to take the edge off. it let me master it; and having mastered it, i was able to do things i could never do before in my life, like chastity games, and everyday life wasn't so painful, and i had more freedom about how i spent my time, since i didn't have to masturbate before anything that took concentration. but i'm still a very high libido person; what's more it made me much more engaged with sex with partners rather than masturbating.

there was a brief period of time close to the beginning where it did affect my erections, i believe, but this passed and i now have erections like normal. neither my penis or scrotum changed size or appearance. and thankfully my loads did not diminish at all; though on bica it was a little more translucent and less goopy white, it seems to be back to normal on monotherapy. it takes several minutes to clean up after.

but here's the thing; on hrt, my sexuality improved in ways i didn't even anticipate. these are: 1. every sensation feels so much better, to such an extent that sensations seem to take on a profound meaning. it is especially lovely to use the soft parts of a girl's thighs. 2. orgasms are completely different. not just a quantitative but a qualitative difference. they make me shiver, they last forever, my toes curl as i gasp and perspire. afterwards i am submerged in bliss; wheezing asthmatically, sticky or soaking wet. 3. when not having sex, i mostly cum handsfree, neither using my hands nor any implement, or any special technique but to look at something or think of something or talk to someone. either naked or under my clothes. i could do this before but it took more effort. 4. when having sex, i cum much, much faster, which is a really good change for me, because performing was always a source of anxiety, and now i have no problem with that, unless i'm having blood sugar problems which can't be helped.

i understand that most people don't have my experiences when they start hrt. although for most people sex feels better and orgasms feel better, most people cum less and have more problems performing after hrt rather than the opposite.

in the few weeks that i went off hrt i went pretty much back to normal, and it felt awful. i went back to masturbating several times a day, became less interested in having sex, and derived much less enjoyment from masturbation which was little more than habitual. i could still cum handsfree but mostly i didn't. by comparison it all simply felt bad. at this point i would take estrogen merely as an aphrodisiac.

BOOBS

i have little boobs. if it really is accurate to talk about transfem bodies this way, then i think i am in Tanner Stage 3. i don't really care about having boobs so i don't really think about it. mainly i felt A LOT BETTER about my body after i started removing my chest hair, no matter what my chest looks like.

early on in transition i asked you all if my boobs would stop being sore. some of you said no. well listen up fuckers, you were dead wrong! after three or four months they stopped hurting entirely. but then afer i started injections they began to hurt again, and now they still hurt. maybe they'll just hurt every August, no matter what i do.

WEIGHT GAIN, FAT DISTRIBUTION

i literally weigh 50 pounds more than at the start of 2023. however, 30 of those pounds i put on before even starting hrt. so i think it's a coincidence; regression to the mean. in the past i constnatly lost weight mysteriously, now i am quickly gaining it. i'm a little worried about it really, but i feel a little better about myself with chubbier cheeks as well.

i have definitely gained more of an hourglass shape now that i didn't have before. but i still think my body is very ugly and i'm ashamed of it. looking more feminine doesn't mean looking or feeling any more attractive necessarily and you have more body image issues than gender dysphoria. it's necessary to consider them a little separately. to be honest, i have no idea what i wanted hrt to do to my body. no matter what outward physical change i consider i will say 'that's some accidental change and is not the reason i'm on hormones, so i don't really care about it.' then why transition?

HRT AS WILL

this is to me the most fascinating change and the one i could anticipate the least; hrt completely changes my fundmanetal first-person experience of reality. i have no idea how to describe it; surely any words are inaccurate metaphors which cannot possibly denote anything to you if you haven't felt it. i simply feel that, before hrt, i was out of alignment, and that when i am on hrt, my alignment has been restored, and i have achieved some kind of invisible perfection. every waking moment feels so much better, and stopping hrt made me feel awful for that reason only. i knew what it was like to be on it. Tiresias.

this is the biggest thing for me; even if hrt did absolutely nothing else i would take it for this reason alone. not only that, but i would still regard it as deeply important, fulfilling some deep need. i would pay a high price for it.

do you know what i mean? what is this?

oh god... have you felt this? it's rather... rapturous... ah haha...

it means that i'm chosen...

maybe i have eyes on the inside. if you kill me you'll get a Caryll Rune: Clockwise Metamorphosis.

when i think about other things to add to my transition progress, such as progesterone, this is the primary lens that i look at it through. how would this change my inner experience? what effect would it have on me at the level of pure feeling? i don't really care what it would do to my body. what new chamber of the soul is unlocked thereby?

PERIODS

i was promised that i would get periods when i started hrt. this seems to have been a myth. if i want periods i suppose i would have to actually vary my own hormones throughout the month. in the past i actually had a pretty intense dysphoria about not getting periods, and the idea that i'd get them one day was very relieving to me. thankfully i don't really care about that anymore; all of my desires orient themselves with reference to transfems, so not having periods doesn't create any kind of distance between myself and my peers.

CONCLUSION

anyway, transition is going extremely well in my estimation. there are other aspects of transition than just hrt; gender-affirming clothes, laser (cheap here), optionally voice training and such. i think for some people a year is kind of a long time, but i tend to have a long-term view. it's something healthy but it also makes me slow to act. in any case i still see myself as just starting, and i will get to other things soon enough. i like changing. i like doing things that change me. you have to resist the temptation to see every possible avenue of transition as a form of assimilation to cisnormativity. we have a culture; we do certain things that change us, sometimes forever and sometimes for now.

thanks for reading.

[kyber-crystal]

Hi! May I request a sequel to "my little love" for how jake responds to max calling him dad/daddy for the first time? or jake being cute with max and your shared kids (bc i KNOW y'all don't stop after the first one lol)

i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this but HELL YEAH and i'm extra sorry i didn't post this for a while b/c i wasn't sure about how it turned out in general...anyways, i hope you enjoy : ')

my future || jake "hangman" seresin

summary: as written above! this is a sequel to the headcanon my little love, which i LOVED writing w my whole heart.

settling into married life was surprisingly not difficult. you'd already spent so much time around hangman that forever felt so comfortable

now everyone is so happy and in high spirits. but max is significantly happier than them all and it's so wholesome to see

rooster, or "fairy godmother" (max likes to call him the latter....yes...godmother, not godfather. you don't know why but it's so funny, especially when you watch rooster react to this), is always there to take care of your kiddo when you're busy

he let him sit in his F-14 and take a picture with him :)

and you're paranoid and worrying the whole time but rooster's like "relax, i got him" and he's super chill about it

"he's gonna be a pilot. better than you, even," you leaned over and gave your husband a look

"i think so!"

the kid lives and breathes top gun. and now that you've moved in with hangman, you're only a few minutes' walk from base, making it easy to go back and forth.

when you're working at the hard deck, penny sits him by the nearest booth with a milkshake and some old books and toys

if one of the uncles or phoenix wasn't busy, they'd come over to keep him entertained

and you know when hangman's done for the day when you see max break into his signature grin. you've noticed that you only really see it around him

so you're celebrating his fourth birthday today. it's insane, because he already speaks like a six year old (hangman says it's because you're also smart af. but, being the cocky lil shit he is, fanboy likes to take the credit for it. i mean, the guy majored in biochem, so he knows his stuff)

it's an off day for everyone, so they're able to come help decorate the place. you had the idea to surprise your son, so while everyone was getting ready, fanboy was with max by the beach, playing soccer. they'd come back in an hour and boom!

by the end of things, the hard deck doesn't look like the hard deck anymore. it looks like max's paradise—a kiddie version of top gun, you realize. your heart melts because 🥺🥺🥺

everyone hides when they hear fanboy and max coming in

and then you all jump up from your hiding spots and yell "SURPRISE" and he starts grinning again

and then the kid runs straight towards hangman, giggling in pure delight

"daddy!" he yells

you're all like wait wtf

did he just

say

oh

hangman has to stop for a moment before picking him up. you can see him tearing up bc this is the first time max has ever said this

it's definitely really fulfilling to watch. when he was a baby and screamed and cried for hours at a time out of nowhere, you knew it wasn't always just from tiredness. or being hungry. or whatnot

the rest of the night you're all emotional af and max notices

"daddy why are you crying?"

there go the waterworks...more tears slip down jake's face 🥺😭

"because i'm happy!"

"people cry when they are sad! like when uncle fanboy loses to uncle payback!"

"HEY! kid, i thought you were on my side"

"so, i'm your dad now, huh?"

"forever and ever and ever and ever!"

how could you have gotten so lucky...

you're sitting here in the middle of the hard deck with your family. a family when realization hits. you had a loving husband, and a father, and a child that brightened up your world, and you couldn't have asked for anything more. you finally found someone that wanted forever and wasn't one to back away

now for some more cute moments post-birthday celebration

you take max to base every day right

and hangman will carry him on his shoulders all the time

if he's not done with his flight or workout or whatever, maverick takes his place

or his fairy godmother :)

as soon as he lands, max takes off at the speed of light and goes barreling towards him (how tf is the kid so FAST)

as hangman picks him up he looks at you and says "can we please have another kid. please"

"i want a sister! tell her, daddy!"

"see, the little man agrees"

sorry this ending was so awful i genuinely apologize...

tags, including people who may be interested: @totomoshi​ @sarcastic-sourwolf​ @sebastianstangirl01​ @altheadarling​ @ellabellabus07​ @hay-9105​ @purelyfiction​ @93joons​ @criminalyetminimal​ @yeehawnana​ @lunamoonbby​ @hazelgirl355​ @multifandom-fangirl4​ @paintballkid711​ @lyn-lc​ @whatlovegattado​ @azari-anna​ @thelifeofthelifeofme​ @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel​ @quivvyintheclouds @phoenixhalliwell @winteryoungie @mychoso @lt-b-rooster-bradshaw​ @jenny-riversmith​ @krisitzeneva​ @daethsticks​ @sithwidow​ @rosie-posie1313​ @sadpetalsstuff​ @glossydi0r​ @i-simp-much​ @hay-9105​ @meeeeees-stuff​ @sweetdayme4427​ @unicornlover92​ @intrxde​ @rhiannon-russo​ @dolce-clout​ @theghost1345​ @baby-girl-e​ @greatbigshiningstar​ @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @newlibrary @cosm1cfae

sorry if this doesn't seem updated! some tags include ppl who were tagged in part 1 of this blurb mini-series. if you'd like to be added to the taglist, comment or add yourself to the tgm taglist here!

[deliciousangelfestival]

Underworld Insomnia || 3 - B. Barnes

Character : Bucky × Psychiatrist Female!Reader

Summary: As a ruthless contract killer, Bucky is feared in the underworld of criminals. His opponents freeze when they see him, as he is feared among them. However, they don't know that he could be warm to only one person: his psychiatrist. The only person who could make him fall asleep.

Chapter 1, Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 ,-

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Please let me know what your thoughts are. I'd love to hear your feedback. Thank you once again.

Upon hearing your plea and witnessing your disheveled appearance, Bucky feels a surge of determination. After all, you had helped him with his sleeping troubles, and now it's his turn to repay the favor. "Let's go back to somewhere safe," he suggests, his voice steady and reassuring.

A glimmer of hope flickers in your eyes at Bucky's offer of assistance. With a grateful nod, you gather Conroy into your arms once more, feeling a renewed sense of purpose and determination.

As you start to move, Conroy's voice breaks the silence with a whisper, "Are we going to run again?"

You pause, glancing down at Conroy with a reassuring smile. "No," you reply softly, your voice filled with determination. "I think we will stay safe for a while."

Arriving at Bucky's house, Conroy's eyes widen in awe as he takes in the grandeur of the surroundings. "Wow, you're rich," he exclaims, unable to hide his admiration.

Bucky can't help but scoff at the comment, a small smirk playing at the corners of his lips. Finally, he feels a sense of accomplishment at being able to impress the young boy, even for a moment.

At that moment, Bucky had assumed Conroy was just a curious kid, until he made another astute observation.

Conroy adjusts his glasses and remarks, "There's no female trace in this place. It looks so empty, which means this must be one of your hidden houses."

Bucky's eyebrows raise in surprise at Conroy's insight. "You hit the nail on the head," he acknowledges, impressed by the boy's perceptiveness.

Bucky begins to piece together the situation. He realizes that you and Conroy must be hiding, especially considering the recent danger you faced. Given the risk of the masked man finding your address, you would unlikely return to your place. Although Bucky doesn't fully trust you, he sees no harm in offering one of his safehouses as a temporary refuge.

When you heard that, you felt relieved. If this place is one of Bucky's hidden houses, it means it's likely off the radar of the group of people who chased you and Conroy.

"Thank you so much for your help, Mr.Barnes," you express gratefully, feeling a sense of gratitude toward him.

Bucky chuckles softly. "Call me Bucky. I feel old every time you call me 'Mr.'"

Before you can reply, Conroy interjects with his typical bluntness. "But you are old."

Bucky grits his teeth and playfully ruffles Conroy's hair. "Go to sleep," he commands, trying to distract the boy.

Conroy protests, "I can't. I'm hungry!" His complaint is cut short when you offer him a piece of chicken. Before returning, Bucky had kindly bought dinner from a fast-food chain restaurant.

As Conroy takes a bite of the seasoned fried chicken, his eyes widen in delight. "Yum! This is the most delicious food I've ever eaten! It's even better than the food in the lab."

Bucky raises an eyebrow, intrigued by Conroy's mention of a lab. What does it mean? Is this the first time the kid has tasted fried chicken?

"I think it's time for me to explain," you suggest, sensing Bucky's curiosity and realizing it's time to share more about your situation with him.

You and Bucky converse in the living room while Conroy enjoys his food, appearing like any other child his age in moments like these.

Seated in different chairs facing each other, you begin, "Conroy is a special kid."

Bucky nods in agreement, recognizing the uniqueness of the situation.

You continue, "He grew up in a lab where all the best scientists gather. His mother is my sister, who is also a scientist."

Memories flood back to you, vividly recalling the day when your sister, weak but beaming with happiness, handed you Conroy. "He's your nephew," she said gently, sealing your bond. Since that day, you promised to protect Conroy.

"The reason why we're hiding is because of the Hercules project," you explain further.

Bucky listens intently, intrigued by the unfamiliar name.

"Hercules is the name of the drugs," you elaborate. "It's designed to make soldiers stronger, undefeatable, with accelerated wound healing, enhanced eyesight, and heightened hearing senses."

"Sounds promising," Bucky comments "What does this have to do with Conroy?"

You close your eyes, remembering the horrors of that terrible night. The day you lost your sister, along with the lab. "The drugs caused people to go insane. Blood poured from their eyes and ears, and they would harm themselves."

Bucky's expression darkens as he absorbs the gravity of the situation.

"The worst part," you continue grimly, "is that the lab wants to mass-produce the drugs for regular people, particularly those who enjoy working out. Just imagine the potential side effects."

Bucky's brow furrows in confusion. "Still, I just can't connect the situation with Conroy," he admits, struggling to understand the full extent of Conroy's involvement.

As you explain further, you clench your fist tightly, the tension evident in your voice. "The only person who could recreated the drugs is my sister. Conroy has an amazing memory. Before my sister died, she made sure he remembered the Hercules drug formula, the calculations, and the side-effects. But what truly made him a target is that he memorized the names of the victims."

Bucky is taken aback by this revelation, his expression mirroring his disbelief. "A 4-year-old understands something so gruesome?" he murmurs, his voice laced with incredulity.

You nod solemnly. "Yes. And that's why we're hiding."

"The people who chase us," you continue, your voice trembling with emotion, "on the day my sister destroyed the drugs, they destroyed the lab. Everything they built turned to ash. And everyone in it, including my sister." A shiver runs down your spine as you recall the horrifying events.

"If they catch Conroy," you whisper, your hands trembling as you clasp them together, "they will torture him, force him to reveal the Hercules drug formula. And after that..." You trail off, unable to voice the unspeakable horrors that may await Conroy if he were to fall into the wrong hands.

Tears well up in your eyes as you speak, the weight of the situation bearing down on you with crushing force. "I pray to God every day," you confess, your voice barely above a whisper, "that nothing bad happens to Conroy."

Bucky feels a surge of empathy as he listens to your story. If he had a family like yours, he knows he would be grateful beyond measure.

"Bucky, could you help us?" you ask, your voice tinged with desperation.

Bucky tilts his head, considering your request. "How are you going to pay me?" he inquires, his tone cautious and business-like.

You're taken aback by the question, realizing you hadn't thought about it before. "I...," you falter, unsure of how to respond.

"You can't afford me," Bucky asserts bluntly, cutting off your attempt to explain.

Speechless, you struggle to find the right words. "I-I know," you stammer, feeling a sense of helplessness wash over you. "Is there anything I could do?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

Bucky remains silent for a moment, his expression unreadable as he considers your offer.

Finally, he speaks, his voice low and measured. "Work for me," he suggests. "Read me to sleep."

"That's it?" you inquire, surprised by the simplicity of his request.

Bucky nods a hint of determination in his eyes. "That's it," he confirms.

You smile warmly at Bucky, feeling a surge of gratitude for his unexpected kindness. "I will give my best. Thank you, Bucky," you express sincerely, your voice filled with appreciation.

When Bucky sees your smile directed at him, he's taken aback. He's accustomed to seeing you with a groggy expression around him, so your genuine smile catches him off guard. It's a small gesture, but it makes him feel strangely reassured as if you're starting to trust him.

"Sister," Conroy pipes up, interrupting the moment with his childish voice.

Bucky rolls his eyes at the interruption, but a small smile tugs at the corners of his lips.

Conroy leaps toward you eagerly. "I'm full and I want to sleep. Read me a bedtime story, please," he requests, his excitement palpable.

However, before Conroy can reach you, Bucky swoops in and lifts him up. "Your sister is going to read me a bedtime story," he announces, a playful glint in his eye.

Conroy frowns in confusion. "But you're an adult. Why do you want to listen to children's stories?" he questions, his curiosity piqued.

You step in to defuse the situation, sensing the tension between the two. "Guys, calm down," you interject, your voice gentle yet firm. "I'll read it to both of you," you offer, hoping to restore peace and harmony to the moment.

As Conroy and Bucky settle into their respective armchairs, a palpable tension fills the room as they exchange glares.

You clear your throat, breaking the silence, and begin to read another bedtime story, hoping to diffuse the tension between the two.

"Once upon a time, there lived a mischievous squirrel named Sammy in a magical forest far, far away. Sammy was known throughout the forest for his clever tricks and daring escapades. Sammy's adventures took him to every corner of the forest, from the tallest treetops to the deepest, darkest caves. Along the way, he encountered many colorful characters, including wise old owls, friendly rabbits, and even a grumpy bear with a heart of gold-."

As you reach the story's climax, you notice their eyelids drooping, and before long, they both drift off into a peaceful sleep.

The soothing cadence of your voice coupled with the enchanting tale seems to be lulling them into a peaceful slumber.

You smile softly to yourself, feeling a sense of accomplishment as you witness the calming effect your storytelling has on them.

With each passing moment, their breathing becomes more rhythmic, and their bodies relax into the comfortable armchairs.

You quietly close the book, careful not to disturb their rest, and bask in the serene atmosphere of the room.

********

The next morning, Bucky wakes up feeling refreshed.

As he rises from his chair, he notices that Conroy is still sound asleep. Leaning down, Bucky can't help but admire the child's peaceful expression and chubby cheeks, finding him unexpectedly endearing. However, he knows all too well that Conroy's innocent appearance belies a sharp tongue that can test even Bucky's patience.

The aroma of something sweet wafts through the air, drawing Bucky's attention to the kitchen. Surprised, he finds you cooking pancakes—a sight he never expected, as he rarely sees anyone use the kitchen, let alone cook.

"Morning," you greet, turning off the stove and wiping your hands on your apron as you acknowledge Bucky's presence.

Bucky squints slightly against the brightness of the morning light streaming into the kitchen. The room seems to radiate with a warm and inviting atmosphere that he's not accustomed to experiencing.

"Uhm, morning," Bucky responds, still adjusting to the unexpected scene.

You take a recorder out of your pocket, explaining your idea from the previous night. "I thought ahead and recorded myself reading several children's stories," you explain. "There may be times when I can't be here to read to you, so this way, you'll always have something to listen to."

Bucky's eyes widen in surprise, impressed by your foresight. "Thank you," he murmurs sincerely.

"You want to try listening to it?" you offer, extending the recorder and a pair of earphones to Bucky. "Let me know if it's not good."

"Sure," Bucky replies, accepting your earphones and recorder. With a nod of appreciation, he puts on the earphones and presses the play button, eager to hear your recorded stories.

As Bucky listens to the recorded stories, he notices something unexpected—the faint sound of your breath in the background, almost as if you're beside him.

Intrigued by the intimate detail, Bucky finds himself drawn into the story, eager to experience the magic of your storytelling once again.

"Once upon a time, in a land of eternal winter, there lived a lonely snowflake named Frosty," the recording begins, your voice gentle and soothing. "Frosty longed for companionship, but no matter where he drifted, he found himself alone in the icy wilderness,-."

As Bucky continues to listen to your story, he finds himself growing increasingly relaxed. The soothing cadence of your voice and the gentle rhythm of your breath lull him into a state of tranquility.

Suddenly, his eyelids begin to droop, and he feels an overwhelming heaviness wash over his body. Before he can even register what's happening, his vision blurs, and everything fades into darkness.

You watch in shock as Bucky loses balance, the earphones slipping from his ears. "Bucky!" you exclaim, rushing to his side.

In just two short minutes of listening to your story, Bucky's body dropped to the floor.

Concerned, you gently shake him, trying to rouse him from his sudden slumber. "Bucky, wake up!" you urge, but he remains unresponsive.

Panicked, you quickly check his pulse and breathing, relieved to find that he's still alive, albeit deeply asleep.

As you try to process what just happened, you can't help but wonder—did your story really have that much of an impact on him, or is there something else going on with Bucky's health?

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Author Note:

Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account. Your support through tips would mean the world and help me keep creating. Only if you feel like it!

Here's the link: Ko-fi

Thanks a bunch for being fabulous followers!

[spacexseven]

tuna I'm about to go to bed but consider. demon au fyodor. hangs around you for no discernable reason. gives you terrible nightmares for fun (and later pleasant dreams as he starts to like you more, so he can see you smile when he watches you sleep). keeps wanting to play with your computer. ooo maybe he could possess your phone or something, so you can go out like normal but he'll Always Be There! Watching!

do u think gogol and sigma would be fellow demons or fyodor cultists

- 🩹

demon fyodor is a tech genius you heard it from us first! also also i like the idea of gogol and sigma being demons but like fyodor's little helpers mayb...ill think about it

cw: yandere character, stalking, invasion of privacy, hacking?, sleep deprivation, paranoia,

unlike dazai and chuuya, who came to stay with you because they have no choice, fyodor's just there because...he wants to. he hates humans but loves tormenting them, loves watching them lose their mind from weeks of sleepless nights and constant paranoia, loves watching them stare at him when he finally comes to claim his prize (their tortured souls), and loves the many fantastic emotions they show him. he's definitely a lot more...evil as compared to the other demons you may have met.

so you start off as his latest prey. maybe he saw you strolling past, maybe he just happened to land at your doorstep, but whatever cruel twist of fate brought him there, it sealed your life forever. you're just as entertaining as he'd hoped; he watches you 'patrol' your room with your phone flashlight and a useless object in hand, delights in the way you jump and knock over your water when he blows into your ear randomly, and most of all, he adores the fearful expressions you show when he's consuming you in your nightmares (literally).

while you're suffering from a lack of sleep and spending more time outside your home, fyodor puts his knowledge to good use and looks around your devices. he's become used to how they work after studying them for so long, and is able to easily infiltrate your computer and later your phone. (it's terribly funny to see you search up all sorts of outlandish things as a way to explain the horrors happening to you)

but you're persevering, to his surprise. and perhaps, that's what ultimately saves you.

though you're thoroughly sleep-deprived and trembling, you still go on with your life. you go to work, continue with your hobbies (even if the shaking hands and jumpiness doesn't help much), and try to keep up the image of a stable life. sure, you don't talk to people much anymore, and you need to try out new things every night that promise you a well-needed rest, but for the most part, you're trying.

this would be his favorite part, usually. completely destroying whatever will was left in you, watching you become a shell of who you were, but things were different this time. he's not sure what brought upon the sudden change, but he stops interrupting your sleep for just one night; and the soft smile that stays on your face the whole time mesmerizes him.

fyodor has seen his share of beautiful sights, but you stood out amongst them all. when he saw you whistling while making breakfast, the lost sparkle in your eye returning, when you look happy to return home after a hectic day for the first time in weeks, and when you're singing while cleaning up, the radiant joy almost blinding—that's when he knows what he really wants to see from you.

and when he takes a liking to you, no matter how twisted it was, he takes it to an extreme. he wants to be the sole decider on whether you'd be having a good day or not, so eliminating any influences in your life comes first. it wouldn't be fair if all his hard work was ruined because a friend buys you a cup of coffee or you're let out early by a superior who thinks you look too tired, right?

fyodor doesn't stop his torment; not immediately. he lets you bask in the joy of going about a day unbothered and feeling free, and then immediately snaps his jaws down on you to visit you in your dreams and frighten you. he loves watching all of you; scared, happy, carefree, stressed—but now, he can't help but be curious. what face would you show when he reveals himself to you? he's hoping it would be anger; a deep, violent, rage. something he hadn't quite had the honor of seeing from you yet.

there was only one way to find out...

[ripleyresonance]

To have and to Hold

Rhea Ripley x OC

Celeste finally has time to take Rhea to meet her family...but why does she have to look so good doing everything.

Rhea Ripley was like a Swiss Army knife of personalities, able to effortlessly switch gears between dominating in the ring and melting hearts outside of it. In the squared circle, she was the undisputed queen, a powerhouse who commanded the respect and adoration of fans worldwide. But when it came to being Celeste's partner, Rhea was like a ray of sunshine, radiating warmth and affection in every gesture

Celeste couldn't help but marvel at how Rhea seemed to anticipate her every need, showering her with love and attention in the most thoughtful ways. Whether it was surprising her with flowers on a random Tuesday or giving her a soothing massage after a particularly grueling day, Rhea had a knack for making Celeste feel cherished and valued. And even when Celeste indulged in her guilty pleasure of reality TV trash, Rhea would happily join in, her laughter filling the room with joy.

So when Celeste decided to invite Rhea to her grandmother's 80th birthday celebration in their small hometown in Kansas, she knew it was time to introduce Rhea to her extended family. With Rhea recovering from a recent injury, Celeste saw it as the perfect opportunity to immerse her in the chaos of her family gatherings.

While Rhea had met Celeste's parents before and won them over with no problem, Celeste wondered how she would handle her very kind but very loud extended family. To Celeste's surprise, Rhea fit right in, charming every aunt, uncle, and cousin with her easygoing demeanor and infectious laughter. Celeste watched with a mixture of joy and arousal as Rhea effortlessly navigated conversations and shared stories with her family members, her genuine interest and warmth shining through.

But it was when Rhea started playing with Celeste's nieces that Celeste thought her heart might explode. Watching Rhea interact with the children, effortlessly blending fun and safety as she demonstrated wrestling moves with a gentle touch, Celeste couldn't help but feel a surge of love and desire for her partner. Even as Celeste intervened to remind Rhea to be mindful of her injury, she couldn't shake the feeling of admiration and attraction that was about to boil over within her.

As the day progressed, Celeste found herself growing increasingly aroused by Rhea's presence, her heart swelling with confidence at having such an incredible partner by her side. Maybe it was the few drinks she had indulged in, or maybe it was the sight of Rhea’a ass in those tight jeans, but Celeste knew she had to find a way to steal a moment alone with her.

With a mischievous grin, Celeste excused herself from the festivities and sent Rhea a playful text saying she needed a tampon to lure her upstairs. To her delight, Rhea appeared at her door in record time, concern etched on her features as she inquired about Celeste's well-being.

“You got your period? Im sorry sweetheart the worst timing ever.” Rhea said closing the door. 

“Well, at least I'm not pregnant.” Celeste joked wrapping her arms around Rhea’s neck. 

“Oh thank god I was getting worried we might have a magic strap.” Rhea laughed leaning in for a kiss. 

Rhea's kiss was tender and gentle, reflecting her innocent intentions of finally having a moment alone with her girlfriend. But when Celeste returned the kiss, it was anything but innocent, catching Rhea off guard and causing her to raise an intrigued eyebrow. 

“What's got you all riled up,” Rhea questioned. 

“I am not sure to be honest.” Celeste laughed. “Something about you seeing you interact so effortlessly with my family really got me going….” 

Rhea blushed. 

“Well that's very sweet my love but there is a very large party downstairs that I have a feeling will notice how we are missing.” 

“I agree…but I think it will take them about fifteen minutes.” Celeste said leaning in to kiss Rhea’s neck. 

“Someone is confident,” Rhea smirked. 

“Oh, c'mon I have made you cum in less.” Celeste teased pushing Rhea to her bed. 

As Rhea sat down on Celeste's twin bed while she straddled Rhea, Celeste had to laugh. 

“You know when I was a teenager I used to dream of sneaking my crush into my room. And now I have the love of my life  squirming in anticipation under me.” Celeste said moving to unbutton Rhea’s shirt. 

Rhea let out a moan as Celeste cupped her breast. She rolled her nipple between her thumb and ring finger as she felt them getting stiff. 

Celeste pushed her back on the bed moving her lips right above Rhea’s right nipple glancing her eyes up at her as Celeste slowly moved her tongue around. Rhea let out a whine as Celeste began to suck on it. Rhea loved it when Celeste bit down a little bit, her hand shooting out to Celeste's hair. Her moans got louder as Celeste began kissing down her abdomen undoing the zipper on her jeans. Celeste got on her knees hooking her arms under Rhea’s muscular thighs. Celeste admired her thighs for a moment licking and sucking dangerously close to her heat. 

“Fuck stop being such a tease they are going to start getting suspicious,” Rhea whined. 

“They will only be suspicious if you don't keep your fucking moans down,” Celeste said kissing Rhea’s slit making her gasp. 

Celeste loved seeing Rhea like this. To the world, she was the strongest, the most dominant woman on the planet. So Celeste loved it when she was moaning and restless underneath her begging for more. Celeste moved her tongue slowly in a figure-eight motion over her clit savoring the way Rhea tasted. Rhea reached out for a pillow covering her face as her moans got louder. When Celeste added two fingers she could tell Rhea was already close. As she curled her fingers up Celeste applied more pressure with her tongue on her clit. 

“Fuck baby I love when you do that.” She said in a raspy voice making Celeste's eyes roll back. 

Celeste increased the speed of her fingers as sinful sounds started echoing through the room Rhea’s breath getting faster. 

“I'm going to.. Oh fuck” She groaned as her back arched off the bed. 

Celeste smiled not letting up her speed as she came around her fingers.

Celeste wanted to keep going but eventually slowed down making sure Rhea felt every moment of her orgasm before pulling her fingers out and laying down next to Rhea on the bed. 

“Shit if all I had to do to get that kind of head were be nice to your family I would have begged for you to take me home sooner,” Rhea smirked pushing Celeste's hair behind her ear and giving her a tender kiss.

hen Celeste pulled back, she beamed at Rhea with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Well, you better get used to it, Miss Ripley. Imagine the head after the wedding," Celeste smirked, teasingly.

Rhea's eyes widened in faux shock. "Well, shit, let me go find a ring," she exclaimed, leaping up from her seat and making Celeste burst into laughter.

Celeste smoothed down her hair as she watched Rhea rummage through her old jewelry box. Rhea turned back to Celeste, dropping to one knee with a playful grin.

"Will you do me the honor?" Rhea asked, presenting Celeste with her mood ring from seventh grade.

Celeste erupted into laughter, showing Rhea her hand as she accepted the ring. "It's what I've always dreamed of, how did you know?" she dramatically gasped.

Amid their laughter, Celeste and Rhea exchanged the ring, enjoying the playful moment together. As they fixed each other up to ensure their actions weren't too obvious, Rhea paused Celeste before they headed back downstairs.

"I really cannot wait to be your wife," Rhea said softly.

"To have and to hold..." Celeste smiled, leaning in to kiss her.

"...and give the best head," Celeste added with a mischievous grin, playfully smacking Rhea on the ass before darting back downstairs, with Rhea hot on her trail.

Rhea couldn't help but think she could get used to this little life with Celeste.

[h-sleepingirl]

Milton Erickson and a Rabbi Walk into a Bar... (Essay)

Finally, I've finished this essay about connections I'm finding between hypnosis, Judaism, magic, and intimacy. It's ~4.5k words, extremely "me," and I'm really thrilled to share it. Enjoy!

--

My weakness is getting deeply invested in very niche topics.

Hypnosis was my first and most lifelong obsession. It was my confusing, shameful sexual fetish that I eventually took by the horns and -- through my desire to learn as much about it as humanly possible -- turned into a job. But not a normal sex work job where I do hypnosis for money -- a weird job where I just teach about it. The kink community, and the further-specific niche where people want to hypnotize each other during intimate experiences, became my home.

But the value of study doesn't really come from the quantity of people I'm able to engage with. It comes from the way it enriches my life. It creates and benefits from the capability to see overlaps between all of my various interests.

On the surface, it may appear that two skills have no relationship. But the deeper you get into each one, a synthesis appears.

At a certain point when you are learning hypnosis, all seemingly-unrelated information seems to fit effortlessly into your hypnotic knowledge. You can listen to a song and suddenly you learn something new about how to hypnotize someone. Maybe it was a lyric that gave you an evocative emotional response; maybe it was a pattern in the music that you thought about replicating with the rhythm of your hypnotic language.

Over a decade into my own hypnosis learning, I got very lucky and found a second passionate home in communities of Jewish text study about a year ago. I started from almost zero there and found myself again to be a greedy novice, obsessed with digging into it.

Of course, as I got further, it became that I read a page of Talmud (a text of rabbinical law and conversation) and suddenly I learned something new about how to hypnotize someone. And as I progress, it is starting to go the other way: I learn about Torah study by reading about hypnosis and intimacy.

There are two directions this essay can be read. “How can intimacy and hypnosis teach us about Jewish text?” And, “How can Jewish text teach us about intimacy and hypnosis?” One half is of each part written by me as an authority, and the other half is by me as an avid novice. The synthesis of these two parts of me -- just like any synthesis between concepts -- may perhaps create something new.

Models

I’m sure most communities have a version of the idiom, “Ask three people a question and get five answers.” For a long time, this was a source of frustration for me in the hypnosis community. Is hypnosis a state of relaxation and suggestibility? Kind of, but also no. Is it more accurate to say it is based on unconscious behaviors and thoughts? Well -- kind of, but also no. 

So what is it? Well, it’s probably somewhere in the overlap of about 20-30 semi-accurate definitions and frameworks for techniques -- what we’d call “models.” Good luck!

Why is hypnosis so impossible to define and teach? How have we not found a model that we can all agree upon yet? I think many people share this confusion, and it's complicated by the fact that most sources for hypnosis education teach their model as the model. It makes sense -- it would be difficult to teach a complete beginner a handful of complex frameworks with which to understand hypnosis when that person is just trying to muddle through learning “how to hypnotize someone” on a practical, basic level.

…Or would it be? By the time I got involved with Jewish study, I had long given up on chasing the white whale of some unified theory of hypnosis. I was firmly happy with the concept that all ways to describe hypnosis are simply models -- and all models are flawed, while some models are useful. I was delighted, when entering Jewish community spaces, to hear the idiom, “Three Jews, five opinions.”

This concept is baked into Jewish text study, in my experience. You can look at any single line in Torah and find innumerable pieces of commentary on it, ancient and modern, with conflicting interpretations. Torah and other texts are studied over and over -- often on a schedule -- with the idea that there is always something new to learn. And this happens partially by the synthesis of multiple people's perspectives adding to and challenging each other, developing new models. My Torah study group teacher always starts us with a famous line from Pirkei Avot, a text of ethical teachings from early rabbis: “If two sit together and share words of Torah, the Shekhinah [feminine presence of God] abides among them.”

The capacity to develop and hold multiple interpretations at once enriches your relationship with the text. So too do I believe that being able to hold multiple interpretations of what hypnosis is and how it works enhances your skill with it. It is not a failure of the system -- it is the best thing about it.

Intimacy

It is intentional to make the distinction of “relationship with the text” -- not “relationship to the text.”

My job on the surface is to teach hypnosis, but the meta goal is to simply teach something that helps people develop profound intimacy with others. I think that hypnosis is a kind of beautiful magic that is well-suited to this, but it’s not the only path to take.

One of my favorite educators, Georg Barkas, describes themselves as an intimacy educator who teaches rope bondage. Their classes and writings are highly philosophical and align closely with my own ideas about intimacy -- as well as my partner’s, MrDream, from whom I’ve learned so much. I frequently cite Barkas when I talk about hypnosis because I feel the underlying ideas they have about rope bondage are extremely applicable to all kink and intimacy -- and I will continue that trend here.

Barkas recently published an excellent essay looking in detail at the concept of intimacy itself. They posit that our first thought of intimacy is usually about a kind of comfort-seeking and familiarity. That’s contained within the etymology of the word, and socially it’s what many of us think of when we define our relationships as “intimate”: settling in to engage with a partner who we love, know, and understand.

But, Barkas asks, what if we place this word into a different context? They talk of how in scientific endeavors, the goal of “becoming familiar with” is unpredictability and discovering things that are surprising and unexpected. This perhaps offers a different view of intimacy: intimacy where you do not engage with your partner as though you know everything about them; intimacy where being surprised by them and learning something new is the goal.

My partner MrDream teaches about this often in hypnosis education: approaching a partner with genuine curiosity and interest -- “curiosity” implying that you don’t know what to expect, with a positive connotation. There is a kind of delicate balance between being able to anticipate some aspects of what is going to happen hypnotically -- to have a general grasp on psychology and hypnosis theory -- versus holding tight to a philosophy that neither you nor the hypnotic subject really knows how they are going to respond. The unexpected is not to be feared, but celebrated and held as core to our practice. Hypnotic “subjects” (those being hypnotized) who can relax their expectations will often have more intense experiences.

Thus we come to the first time in this essay where I mention Milton Erickson, my favorite forefather of modern hypnosis. Erickson was a hypnotherapist active through the 1900s and is famous (among many things) for presenting a model of hypnosis that wasn’t necessarily an authoritative action done to a person, but a collaborative and guiding action done with a person.

In his book “Hypnotic Realities,” he talks about how his view of clinical hypnosis is defined by how the therapist is able to observe each individual client and directly use those observations to continually develop a unique hypnotic approach with them. The client’s history, interests, and modes of thinking are utilized for the trance, as well as any observable responses they have in the moment. For example, a client with chronic pain may have the frustration they express over that pain incorporated into the trance. This is in deep contrast to hypnosis where the therapist comes in with any kind of “script” or formula to recite ahead of time.

It’s important to Erickson’s model that the therapist doesn’t know exactly what to anticipate, and it’s also important hypnotically that the same is true for the client. A common “Ericksonian” suggestion is, “You don’t have to know what is going to happen, and I don’t know either.” In order to develop the most effective approach with each patient, Erickson would enter into a session with some presumed knowledge, but ultimately learning -- not assuming -- how to best hypnotize each individual person.

We circle back to the phrase, “a relationship with Jewish text.” In my opinion, engaging with Torah is exactly this kind of intimacy. Torah is something we come into in order to poke and prod at it, to interact with it and to see how it interacts back at us. The teacher of my study group always cites a model where Torah itself is a participant in our partnered learning and group discussions. We ask it questions, we push its boundaries, we strive to glean something new and yet unseen. A line that may seem simple on the surface can reveal much more when we explore its context or put it into a different context entirely. 

This is easier for me to say as someone who is coming into learning Torah for the first time, but I am able to look ahead to when I will be fully familiar with the text and still be able to take this expanded definition of intimacy with it. Not coming to it without a sense of comfort, but still engaging with curiosity. MrDream teaches a model for hypnosis that is based on the idea of exploration -- exploring your partner no matter how long you have been with them. You are always coming to them as a different person, shaped by your ever-growing experiences and identity, and your partner changes as a human as well. I believe Torah is also dynamic in this way, as the context within which it exists -- and the way we interpret it -- is constantly shifting.

Ritual

I have been engaging with spiritual ritual on and off for as long as I’ve been learning hypnosis. The concept of magic has always been alluring to me -- not from a motivation to meet specific goals, but for something more difficult to pin down. I like that ritual, in an esoteric framework, is about looking at various metaphors between ingredients and actions; a candle representing an element of fire which may in turn represent intensity, or purity, or something else. Drawing meaningful connections between concepts like this is a skill I’ve developed in parallel with hypnosis, as well.

I was recently talking with a friend of mine who is also interested in esotericism -- we were sharing our frustrations with various books on magic and ritual. We wondered why so many sources would go on to teach prescriptivist formulas and associations, and not much else. Do this, and that will happen. This symbol represents that. My friend and I agreed that the ritual value of ingredients comes from how you personally assign meaning to them -- but why was everything always trying to teach us their meaning, as opposed to teaching us how to cultivate our own associations?

A week or so later, I happened to go to an excellent class that explored whether or not there was a place for smudging and smoke use in modern Jewish ritual. The teacher first took a careful, measured approach towards looking at indigenous smudging practices and the concept of appropriation. What followed was 30 minutes of history and text exploring examples of smoke in early Judaism, and then 30 minutes of a handful of interpretations of what “smoke” could mean and represent with relation to Jewish ideas -- directly practical to modern ritual. It was utterly excellent and immediately profound for me, as someone who has been yearning to blend my experience with esoteric ritual with my relationship with Judaism.

Observant readers will note that through this essay I speak passively about Judaism -- I am a patrilineal Jew, which for better or worse means that it is not a simple matter to say, “I am ‘fully’ (or ‘not’) Jewish.” (I am in the beginnings of working with a Conservative rabbi -- who affirms that I’m Jewish -- to make my status halachic [lawful], which is deeply exciting.) Opinions on that aside, a relevant piece of information is that the Jewish holiday we celebrated most consistently when I was growing up was Chanukah. While a lot of Jewish practice has been something I’ve been striving towards as an adult, Chanukah has always been “mine.” It was fast approaching after this class, and I felt motivated to use my newfound knowledge to make more ritual out of lighting the candles.

I was deeply surprised when all I did was light a stick of incense before saying the blessings over lighting the menorah, and my experience transformed into something intense. I smelled the incense and couldn’t help but think about what I’d learned about the Rambam’s commentary that incense in the time of the Temple was about making the Temple smell sweet to pray in after the burning of sacrifices. I thought about what I’d learned about the presence of God being smoke and clouds to the ancient Israelites. I thought about things I’d learned from other places -- hiddur mitzvah (the value of beautifying a practice), and a midrash (parable) about God loving the light and rituals we do in a very personal way simply because they are from us.

Esoteric ritual has often felt to me like exerting effort in making the associations of ingredients work for me. But this was effortless. I was doing something that was entirely my own, solidly founded by the broad and deep study I’d done, by my personal relationship with the concepts, by my identity.

In other words, the power behind this ritual came from knowledge, and the knowledge came from my intimacy with it. And that intimacy was not just with the study I had done -- it was also the process of being surprised in real time by what I was learning through the ritual itself.

Hypnosis gains “power,” in so much as we let ourselves use the term, through these same acts of intimacy towards knowledge. It operates directly based on various ingredients: how much we know about hypnosis theory itself, general psychology, the person we are working with, and ourselves. Hypnosis is a ritual -- it is setting aside special time to do something with a collection of ingredients that you have personal associated meanings with. If you can’t connect to those deeply enough, it won’t reach its full potency.

Knowledge, Perception, and Unconsciousness

One of my favorite concepts to teach in hypnosis is, “A change in perception equates to a change in reality.” This is derived from Erickson by MrDream, and it’s something he and I have had a lot of conversations about to refine. The implication of this is not something as trite as hypnosis having the power to change a person’s perceived reality. It is the concept that if you look at something from a different perspective, you gain various different capabilities.

For example, when you are feeling stuck in a situation and you think about what a close friend of yours would do if they were in your shoes, you gain the capability to see more options, to change your actual view of the reality of the problem and therefore change your actions towards it. In hypnosis, this could be the difference between simply telling someone to relax their legs versus another perspective of telling them to imagine what it would be like if their legs just started relaxing. It could be the idea that when a person does feel relaxation from a simple suggestion, their perception changes on what is happening -- they build more belief in hypnosis, and that belief in turn makes the next suggestions easier to buy into.

Erickson’s model of hypnosis is predicated on the idea that hypnosis itself matters, that hypnosis is a time within which someone’s reality changes. In his ideal hypnotic context, the subject feels like they no longer can expect things to behave as they usually do in their “waking” reality. They are thus opened to many different kinds of new experiences and capabilities. To Erickson, perception matters -- by itself, it’s a primary driving force behind literal change and response.

This ties back to our idea of intimacy -- just as I aim to approach my partners with this profound curiosity, just as I aim to approach Torah, I want to have this intimacy of the unexpected with trance itself. I want to allow myself to be surprised by hypnosis, by the things I don’t yet know about it even after more than a decade and thousands of hours of trance. But more than this, in an Ericksonian sense, simply changing my perspective to this motivation is one of the things that lets me get there.

I went through a guided study class about Shabbat (Judaism’s weekly sabbath of rest) with a partner, and so much of the class was in the abstract that it at times felt difficult for me to latch onto. We were learning all of this background context about a view of Shabbat where instead of spiritually striving and reaching on that day, you come in acting as though your spiritual work -- like your other work -- is “finished.”

In one session, we spent a chunk of time parsing through how we could interpret that as actionable. It felt like it just wasn’t clicking for me -- the midrashic texts weren’t offering enough for me to feel like I could make judgments on questions like, “Does this imply I shouldn’t meditate on Shabbat in this context?”

It wasn’t until I slept on it that I found a very simple piece of the puzzle: putting aside the questions of concrete actions, in an Ericksonian sense, the internal act of shifting my perspective would absolutely change the way I behaved and interacted with the day. It would become more indirect and unconscious -- instead of carefully analyzing my actions as I might with other Shabbat prohibitions on work, I could simply let myself act in ways that fit that perspective of “spiritually resting.”

The abstraction of the class made more sense -- perhaps it wasn’t trying to give us direct answers, but rather create a psychological environment for us that was well-suited to this more unconscious processing. Or rather, in addition to the sort of typical conscious halachic interpretation. If I allow myself an opinion here, I’d say that I care about halacha as actionable, but as always, I tend to care more about feelings and what’s internal.

This also lent credence to ways this class and the class on smoke and ritual changed my experiences. I was not given a set of actions to take, but rather a variety of perspectives that unconsciously made me think and behave differently. The concept of “knowledge is power” is both true and alluring in many different contexts, and yet had often fallen through for me in most ritualistic frameworks. The way that it succeeds, I believe, is when you develop a relationship with knowledge that actually changes your internal perspective and perceptions.

Limitation

With this we return to the concept of models and interpretations. It is serendipitous to be going through these experiences at a time where I am avidly working on my next book -- the thesis of which is that in order for us to progress as hypnotists, we must get comfortable moving fluidly between many differing definitions and frameworks (models) of what hypnosis is and how it works.

It is as the Ericksonian principle would say: If you take a perspective on hypnosis that boils down to “hypnosis is about relaxing the conscious mind,” you will do hypnosis according to that perspective. You will use relaxation-based techniques and make an effort to get someone to think “less consciously.” If you instead take a perspective that is “hypnosis operates based on activation of the conscious mind,” you may do hypnosis that causes someone to think and process in a more stimulating way.

Both and neither are true, and they can coexist. I believe that most models can be useful -- some more useful than others. But the best thing you can do is to not assume that one model is the most correct one -- instead, it is to develop the capacity to work within many at once even while being aware of their boundaries.

Jewish text, in my experience, provides models -- perspectives that themselves give guidance on how to understand things and act. I think especially about midrash and stories that are explicitly intended to fill in the gaps or give an alternate view on something. The question of, “Is there one correct way to do/see things” is more complicated here, but there are areas -- especially in those subtle shifts of mindset for ritual or interpreting text -- where the answer is still “no.”

My time so far in Jewish study supports this in a different way. There is a human element of collaboration and challenge. Learning as we do with a chevruta (study partner) adds another person to the relationship -- it is no longer just between you and the text. There is another human who you are building something with, and it is “intimate” according to our exploratory definition in an even clearer way.

The purpose of a “scene” inside of kink (a “session” of kink play) is to operate in a semi-limited framework -- limitations exist on who is involved, where it begins and ends, how partners communicate, and what themes/topics/activities are involved. These limitations -- though they may be quite broad -- are partially what allow for intense experiences. A scene needs to exist in a different “space” than our daily lives, and it needs to operate by different rules and involve different ingredients. Here, we also see overlaps with the definition of a “ritual.”

This doesn’t just facilitate intensity (and safety) -- it facilitates learning something new about your partner. By taking your relationship and putting it into a limited context, it allows you to observe it in a more careful way, where novel changes can be more obvious.

Studying with a chevruta is much like this. I have had study sessions where my chevruta and I are meeting for the first time and the only thing we are aware of sharing is our desire to dive into a piece of text. I’ve also had chevrutas where we know each other outside of study, and some of our time is schmoozing and catching up. But in all cases, we are limited in scope, and that limitation creates ease of access towards the common goal of expanding our knowledge and relationship with the text. We are focused; we are motivated. We are creating something that we can only create through who we are as individuals and what we are doing as avid learners.

This has surprised me at times with its tenderness and intensity. Building well-founded interpretations with someone is in and of itself very intimate -- not sensually, but humanly. It has given me something I have always wanted -- an intimacy that is pervasive not just in application of knowledge, but in the development of it. A feeling of sacredness and joy from being able to see so many different perspectives.

I long for this connection, this alchemy. Yes, all models are limited. But within those tight, restricting limits is the potential energy of creation.

“And I Must Learn”

There is an infamous story in the Talmud, in Berakhot 62a, where Rav Kahana hides under the bed of his friend Rav Abba. Rav Kahana hears Abba and his wife giggling and starting to have sex, and remarks out loud that Rav Abba is acting like someone who is famished. Rav Abba, mid-sex, understandably says, “Kahana, why the fuck are you under my bed listening to me fuck my wife?” Rav Kahana replies, “It is Torah, and I must learn.”

There was a version of this essay that began with this tale. I am enamored with the vast overlaps I can derive from its briefness: that intimacy can be studied sacredly both as a general concept and specifically with your partner; that we are obligated to learn ourselves, our partners, and general human desire; that there can be a thread of wholeness in every action of your life if you give every action sacred attention.

Even this, though, is a limited-context interpretation. The rabbis of the Talmud were certainly not sex-positive, especially not as we currently use the term. The surrounding triptych of conversations is similarly humorous but seems to comparatively describe sex as dirty or gross, and this bit of text cannot really exist separately from all of the places where there is halacha derived about sex that is about controlling women’s bodies or preventing queer and trans people from being able to live authentically.

But -- we are allowed to interpret like this. We are allowed to play with context and see what we discover.

For me, this is about finding the connections between my actions and my interests; parts of me that synthesize the whole. It is about developing intimacy with Torah, with my learning partners, with my romantic partners; with the people within the writings, with the authors, and with the readers.

Reading Torah is the same as hypnotizing someone is the same being intimate with someone is the same as doing a ritual. All things on a broad enough scale overlap this closely. There is value in this “zooming out” to a wide enough context to see the connections that exist -- just as there is value in celebrating the limitations that arise, models nestled alongside each other, when you “zoom in.”

We need both to be able to treat our learning -- all forms of it -- as something special.

[nana-kom]

Hi ~ it's me again ♡

I'm back with another idea since we talk about it hehe

How about a nice and cute summer fic with our favorite boy changbin 🤭

Just imagine : skz as a fraternkty getting invited to a pool party during summer break and everyone is surprised by changbin weight gain since he go from a pretty fit figure to a verry chubny one and he does seems in denial !

now visualize this scene: changbin falls into the swimming pool, his white t-shirt becomes wet, becoming transparent, leaving everyone with a view of his round and chubby body, much to the delight of his friends who greatly like the view (+ the others scenes we talked about 👀)

Ps : that initialy came from a dream i did 😭

Anyway take your time i love your fics my friend ♡

of course I can write this for you 💜

and I hope you’ll like it, i made some small modifications but I’ll like that !

Enjoy 💜

Pool Party Day

Seungmin had spent the best year of his life, in fact, he didn’t really know if it had been the best, but since he had put his things down in the university dorms, and more specifically in the SKZ Fraternity, he had never been so happy. Whether at the university, during classes, or outside, Seungmin felt like his year had passed in a few seconds, especially since he had made the best friends he could have never suspected meeting. Chan, Changbin, Minho, Hyunjin, Jisung, Felix, and Jeongin had joined the fraternity at the same time as him, which had strengthened their bond, especially with Felix since they had shared the same room during this year. One might think that he was sad and angry that this year was over, but something even better was about to take place, the fraternity’s annual pool party. Seungmin was just so excited about that that he was planning everything and couldn’t stop talking about it whenever the opportunity arose.

In fact, he was so excited that he had even spent his last few days going to the gym with Chan to prepare his body for this party. It must be said that with classes and exams, he hadn’t really been able to take care of himself, but he secretly hoped that his efforts would show and that he could potentially seduce the boy he liked. He wasn’t particularly superficial, but the way he thought about taking care of himself and getting handsome boosted his confidence.

That’s how he spent his last days, and finally, the big day arrived. He could hear the noises in the house and the music through the window, which meant the party had already started. Seungmin looked at himself in the mirror, fixed his hair, and adjusted his swimsuit properly before deciding that it wasn’t necessary to wear a t-shirt in this heat. He then took a deep breath, and finally, he left his room. As he closed the door, he ran into Jisung, who was also coming out of his room with a towel around his shoulders. Jisung approached Seungmin, smiling before lowering his eyes to his body.

“Well, I see you’ve made yourself look good for today. Come on, tell me! What’s got you so excited about a party like this?” Seungmin started blushing and looked away.

“Nothing...it’s our last party before we all go on vacation, so we might as well celebrate it properly, right?” said Seungmin, trying to convince himself.

“If you say so...come on, before the others get to the pool. Minho told me he would push me in, so I might as well get wet first!” said Jisung, starting to walk towards the stairs.

Seungmin started laughing and followed him, keeping his smile because nothing could ruin this beautiful summer day. Seungmin then opened the garden door, and as he stepped outside, he saw his friends around the buffet, chatting, while others were already dancing at the music. The garden was lively with the music that echoed almost through the neighborhood, and finally, Seungmin’s eyes landed on him, but he was slightly surprised, and his breath caught.

“Fuck…” he said under his breath, and Jisung didn’t notice, running towards Minho, who was standing at the edge of the pool, to start turning around him and teasing him about pushing him in the pool.

Yet Seungmin couldn’t move, his eyes were completely absorbed by Changbin. Since when had he gained so much weight ? When his belly started to cover his waist ? Since when did his chest droop and form a larger chest than some women ? Seungmin looked at his wide thighs rubbing against each other, the rolls of flesh on his back accumulating with every movement, and his heavy arms struggling to lift the food to his mouth. His hands were thick and pudgy, and his feet, too, were large and swollen. But above all, his protruding belly hung low, nearly covering his pelvis and causing his swimsuit to appear almost comically ill-fitting. His belly had a soft, sagging quality to it, with noticeable folds that jiggled with every step. Despite his efforts, Seungmin wondered what the underside of his underwear looked like, with its deep creases and the way it dug into his flesh, highlighting his body's bulk. Seungmin stood there, speechless, yet his whole body was boiling so much that even the cool water of the pool couldn’t have cooled him down.

Let me take you back a few months before. When Seungmin arrived at the fraternity, he immediately fell under Changbin’s charm. He behaved like an older brother to the others, supporting them all when they arrived, and helping them adapt to university life, as he was already in his second year. Seungmin and he had grown closer, but nothing more had happened between them. But as the months went by, Seungmin noticed that Changbin was spending more and more time working on his classes and less time going to the gym, and that he had found a job on the side in a neighborhood fast-food place, which also allowed him not to have to pay for his meals there. This had increased his consumption of fatty food, and Changbin had started to gain weight, but none of his friends had really noticed. After all, it wasn’t their bodies, and they had nothing to say. But the more months passed, the more Changbin’s appetite grew, and the weaker Seungmin became in his presence, watching him fill his belly and seeing his cheeks full when he ate, watching him gently massage his belly after a big meal, or simply watching him made Seungmin completely shy to be by his side, and maybe a little too excited.

That’s how, in a year, his first university crush transformed and became even more incredible in his eyes, which he hadn’t looked away from him since he stepped foot at this pool party. Hyunjin then arrived by his side and hugged him.

“I’m going to miss you so much, Seungmin. You’re coming back here next year, right?” he said, looking him straight in the eyes, and Seungmin smiled.

“Of course I am, who do you think is going to help you grade papers?” said Seungmin, teasing him slightly.

Hyunjin pouted slightly before starting to laugh and asking Seungmin questions about his vacation. They chatted quietly when Jisung started shouting that the last one in the water would have to do the dishes. Hyunjin then rushed towards the pool, running, leaving Seungmin rather surprised by his friends’ reaction as they all hurried to run towards the pool, but Seungmin didn’t move. His gaze simply turned towards Changbin, who also started running, or rather trying to run. Seungmin’s eyes focused on his belly that wobbled each time his foot hit the ground, and it was the same for his arms and thighs, even his double chin jiggled when he “ran” at that pace. Changbin then positioned himself above the pool and jumped in. Seungmin watched him, not wanting to miss any of the spectacle, and saw the water splashing all around the pool, and he even felt droplets hit his body. Changbin then resurfaced as the pool was still swirling from the movement of the water under his weight. The others acted as if nothing had happened, and they all started playing in the pool, and Seungmin didn’t notice Felix slipping beside him.

“Impressive?” he said, looking at Seungmin, who turned his head towards him, surprised.

“Wh-what?” he said, feeling his heart race and his cheeks turning red.

“Changbin...you’re not the only one who’s noticed his recent changes...oh, don’t worry, I’m not going to steal him from you. I can see how you’ve been looking at him since the beginning of the year...”

“Felix no...it’s not that...I…” Felix then started laughing.

“Stop reacting like that, you’re too cute when you act like nothing’s happening. Anyway, I’m going for a swim, so...enjoy doing the dishes!” said Felix, laughing and leaving him to realize that he was indeed the last one in the pool. Seungmin then sighed and dipped his legs in the water, sitting by the edge and watching the others play in the water when he felt a weight on his legs and saw Changbin holding onto his legs while keeping his body in the water.

“Are you having a good day? You were so excited about today,” said Changbin, holding onto him.

“The best day, yes, I’m going to miss you all,” said Seungmin, blushing.

“We’ll see each other in a few weeks, and then, why aren’t you swimming? Don’t you want to enjoy it a bit? Come on, please,” asked Changbin, curious to see him staying on the sidelines.

“If you insist like that, I can’t refuse you, Binnie.”

Seungmin then slid into the pool and found himself facing Changbin, shirtless, his fat shaking with the movement of the water and his wet hair highlighting his chubby face. Changbin then pulled him into the water, swimming, and he let himself be led, following him by kicking his feet. Jisung then pushed him to clear the middle of the pool to start a race. Seungmin then found himself against Changbin’s chest, feeling each of his rolls against him, and he couldn’t help but blush. He then moved aside and clung to the edge, watching the others swim in the pool as if it wasn’t obvious that Chan was going to win.

“You look cute today by the way…” hearing Changbin’s words beside him, Seungmin couldn’t help but freeze, almost hearing his heart beating despite the commotion. He then turned his face towards his friend, trying not to seem unsettled.

“Thank...you look...very good...too…” he said, trying to sound natural.

“Don’t worry, you don’t have to return the compliment...I was stressed about today...I wasn’t like that last year and I notice how you keep looking at my belly...but...I guess I can’t really stop it now,” Seungmin’s heart was about to burst, and he couldn’t think straight when he heard that Changbin actually noticed that he was looking at him.

“No...you don’t have to change! I would never judge you, never! I...sorry if I gave you that impression...actually, it’s quite the opposite?”

“The opposite?” asked Changbin surprised

"I couldn’t…take my eyes off you…you’re so perfect that…I can’t…stop thinking about you…" Seungmin noticed Changbin's cheeks turning red and the way he adorably looked away, biting his lips.

"Well…you’re not the only one…" Seungmin felt himself falling apart, and if their friends hadn’t called them back to the terrace for dinner, he might have just let himself sink into the pool, his legs were shaking that much.

Seungmin then turned around in the pool, noticing there wasn’t a ladder. He furrowed his brow, realizing they must have forgotten that detail when organizing the party. The others didn’t really pay attention and climbed out by pushing themselves up with their arms. Seungmin’s heart started to race as he watched Changbin head towards the edge. He began to push up on his arms, but the gap between the water and the edge was bigger than expected. Also, since the fraternity had once been the university’s swimming club, the pool didn’t have a shallow end. Seungmin noticed Changbin struggling to pull himself up and moved closer to him. Changbin's arms flexed with effort, his brows furrowed in concentration, but there was a noticeable struggle. His movements were slow, labored attempts, his muscles strained, but his body didn’t cooperate the way it usually did. There was no denying it, Changbin’s usually toned physique had softened a bit, making this simple task a lot harder than it should have been.

"Do you need help?" Seungmin asked shyly, not wanting to be rude.

"I…yes…please…" Changbin said, letting out a little groan of frustration. He used to be so muscular and fit, and now he couldn’t even lift himself from a pool.

"Guys…" he said loudly, and the others turned to look at him. "Can you help me? It’s hard to get out of the pool for…some of us…" Seungmin said, trying to be nice.

"Oh my- yes, of course!" Chan said, jumping back into the water, followed by the others. He quickly swam over to Changbin's side. Felix followed right behind as well as the others.

"Come on, we’ve got you!" he said, positioning himself on the other side of Changbin. They both tried to lift him out together, but it became clear that it wasn’t going to be enough. Seungmin, who had been watching from the sidelines, sighed and got up.

"On three, ok?" Chan said, taking charge as usual. "One, two, three!"

Seungmin started pushing and pulling together with the others to help Changbin out of the pool. Chan and Jisung supported Changbin from under his arms, while Seungmin and Hyunjin took hold of his back and legs. Felix guided them from the front, making sure they were lifting in sync. With everyone’s combined effort, Changbin finally began to rise out of the water. It wasn’t really a smooth process—there was a lot of splashing, laughing, and even a few slips—but after a few more grunts and pushes, Changbin was finally sitting on the pool's edge, water dripping off him as he caught his breath.

"See? Eight is fate, we always need all of us!" Chan said, clapping Changbin on the back with a proud smile. Seungmin saw Changbin looking around at all of them, a mix of gratitude and embarrassment on his face.

"Thanks, guys," he muttered, still trying to catch his breath. Seungmin smiled, feeling a bit flushed from the situation; maybe he was also trying to catch his breath. Seungmin noticed Jisung approaching Changbin with a teasing look in his eyes. Jisung always liked to tease Changbin, and Seungmin knew he couldn’t resist one last quip.

"Next time, we’ll just bring a crane." Seungmin watched everyone burst into laughter, including Changbin, who shook his head in amusement but still felt a little shy about it. Seungmin then approached Changbin and sat next to him.

"You’re okay?" he asked, delicately touching his hand.

"That was a little bit…ridiculous, wasn’t it?" Changbin said, biting his lip and looking at his belly. Seungmin couldn’t help himself and placed his hand over Changbin’s, which was resting on his stomach.

"This. Will never be ridiculous. I love it as much as…I…like you…" he said, feeling his heart race, and Changbin smiled.

"So, that’s why you were so excited for today!" Changbin said, starting to tease him back, and Seungmin blushed.

"At least I can still get out of the pool by myself," Seungmin said, crossing his arms and looking away.

"Good thing I have you by my side now…maybe I’ll need you more often…" Seungmin blushed and leaned closer to Changbin’s face, just a few inches away.

"Bin…if I’m by your side…you’ll need help much more often…because there’s no way I could say goodbye to that belly…"

"Help him make it bigger then…" Seungmin looked at Changbin with a bold look and finished by teasing him one last time.

"Jisung was definitely right…next time…eight people won’t be enough…"