#anger management near me

[slippery-minghus]

oof

[inmirova]

it took me a long time to accept anger as an emotion I'm allowed to feel without being a bad person bc I associated anger with the abusive people in my life. like obviously my friends and other people could get angry occasionally and I would be like of course they're only human and tbh usually they're justified imo but if I got angry my brain was like no you're no better than your abusers. but then I was with my ex who was constantly angry and I was like see this person can be angry without being abusive. you are allowed to be angry. and then once we closed the distance and i was there for them to be angry at instead of other people it turned out they were abusive. so once again other people are allowed to remain good people in spite of getting angry but I am a bad person if I get angry. my brain works so good and I am soooo well adjusted ! when I lost access to all psych meds that was a good and smart thing to happen ! #affirmations or whatever

[seiwas]

i maxxed the tags (what did i expect) but!!

what a soft piece ari 🥺 thank you for sharing this hurt/comfort piece w us!! i think satoru will always be a figure of strength—but i think it’s in part because that’s how he brands himself to be around the people he cares about. he’ll never truly share how he thinks and feels about things, will almost always downplay it really. but he’s always worrying, always aware and cautious, overthinking 🥺 and i felt that loads here!!

there’s a shipwreck stuck between your ribs ; satoru gojo

synopsis; three times satoru sees you cry, and the understanding you gain of each other from it.

word count; 4.6k

contents; satoru gojo/reader, gn!reader, the synopsis speaks for itself i think, copious amounts of hurt/comfort, i just think he’d be so good at comforting u :ccc, also fluff!!, he’s addicted to calling u ”baby,” satoru gojo vs human emotion (he loses)

a/n; pls ignore the fact that 90% of my gojo fics are hurt/comfort ok we dont need to get into that <33 the writing in this one might be a lil rusty but im pretty fond of this gojo :’3

dim lights, buttery popcorn, and boredom.

the senses invading his mind are mellow, coaxing, a little tedious. all he can see are the buzzing lights before him, all he can hear is the insistent chewing of the people around him, and all he can feel is just that:

boredom.

satoru stifles a yawn, resting his cheek on the heel of his palm. he’s trying to pay attention — really, he is. trying to pay attention to the movie he picked out himself, after thoughtful consideration, one he’s been looking forward to watching with you all week. he’s trying his best. but, gosh, it’s just so boring.

or maybe he just doesn’t have it in him today — with all these too-dim lights, too-loud popcorn-chewers, and the too-convoluted plot playing on the big screen in front of him. he has no idea what’s happening, anymore, what scene this is supposed to be. some sob-story? he clocked out a while ago.

so, with nothing better to do — satoru decides to savour another view.

that’s how it always goes. no matter the movie, no matter the snacks, whether you’re watching at home on the couch or a nearby movie theatre — eventually, when his eyelids begin to grow heavy, or when his attention span begins to falter, that blue-soaked gaze of his shifts. a moth to a flame, following his instincts. constantly looking over to see what kind of face you're making. 

after all, your reactions are far more entertaining than any movie could ever hope to be. little sighs of exasperation, jolts and shivers down your spine, or a laughter so bubbly he can’t resist leaning in for a kiss or ten — he loves it. adores it. lives and dies by it. 

so satoru turns his head, and looks at you, knowing you’ll save him from the boredom clutching at his subconscious. 

and something in his chest constricts.

at first, he doesn’t notice it. hungrily lapping over the expanse of your jaw, to your cheekbones, his gaze drinking in everything he can see. scanning your eyes for a hint of emotion; and he finds it. he finds it in something that glimmers in the dim lighting of the theatre, something that has his breath drawing back to the depths of his throat.

tears.

crystalline, dew-drawn, a fresh set of tears clinging to the edge of your lash line. they’ve yet to fall, but satoru sees them — he sees them and he doesn’t know what to do. 

tears. 

tears?

you’re crying.

in the depths of your glassy eyes, he sees a fractured scene — playing against the scope of your iris, as the movie reflects off your pupils. there’s a turmoil there, a sadness, one that has you covering your mouth with the front of your knuckle. and you’re crying.

satoru wants to tease you. he wants to lean over and purr against the shell of your ear, poke fun at you for being so emotional. such a little baby. what else is he supposed to do?

the tricky part is that he can’t. he can’t move, can’t shape his voice into a purr, can’t even speak. he’s frozen in place like a bug trapped in amber, stuck to his seat, unable to do anything but blink at you in what he thinks might be bewilderment.

his breath hitches — and that’s all. 

something about the sight of you makes him falter, makes him stop in his tracks. catches him off guard. he doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t recognize the feeling stirred deep within his chest, something discomforting and foreign. doesn’t understand why his heart feels so itchy, all of a sudden.

then your eyes meet.

and you blink. once, then twice. eyes just a little wide, an embarrassed kind of surprise. he thinks you must be flustered, and he’s proven right when your gaze flees from his.

a mingle of words clog up at the base of his throat. say something, say something, say something. but he doesn’t know what. 

he wets his lips, preparing to part them, but before he can get the first syllable out you're leaning in. close. close enough that he feels your breath ghost against the shell of his ear, close enough that his heart starts skipping the way it always does when you press yourself against him like that’s where you belong.

a whisper. it’s small, hushed, a little frail. but there’s something else, too, laced together with the vowels — amusement. 

”you didn’t tell me this was a sad movie.”

a pout plays at your lips, as you murmur your grievances. but then there’s that amusement; it’s there when you pull back, in the crinkle of your sparkling eyes, the curve of your smile. 

and satoru’s shoulders relax. stiffened bones melting. he exhales a breath he had no idea he was holding, and his heart feels at ease. a grin finds it’s way to his lips, wide, teasing, cheshire and sweet. 

he leans a little closer, bumping his head against yours. gently. ”i think you’re just sensitive, baby.”

his teasing is rewarded with a little huff, as your elbow meets his side. soft. everything you do is soft. 

”oh, shut up,” you scoff. smiling. he’s so relieved that you’re smiling. 

a moth to a flame, following his instincts, satoru brings you closer. an arm around your waist, pulling you into his orbit, until you’re practically sharing seats. searching for your hand — and he finds it, intertwining his long fingers with yours, just to give it a little squeeze.

(for some reason, he feels more protective than usual.)

he feels your gaze. questioning, maybe. but you melt into him quickly, with your head slumped against his shoulder, and his heart settles back into a sleepy rhythm. just watching the movie pass you by.

the dim lighting of the theatre casts a hazy shadow over your face, a tender desaturation, and his eyes stay glued to it when you aren’t looking. the smell of popcorn hangs heavy in the air, salty and buttery, warm and sweet, and he’s almost grateful to feel that familiar boredom tug at his veins.

anything is fine. anything is better than that discomfort, that irritating itch. 

satoru watches the movie flicker by, scene by scene, whispering commentary into your ear and stealing your popcorn with a satisfied hum. chuckling when you whisper-shout at him to cut it out!

he tries not to think of the glittering tears at your lash line, and almost succeeds.

rain clouds, cups of chamomile, and frustration.

it seeps out into the open air, engulfing your living room in a feverish haze. thick and suffocating; the scent of heavy rain, lukewarm tea, and that ugly, ugly feeling underneath his skin.

it pulses. it itches. and oh, how it aches.

satoru hates it. he hates feeling angry, feeling upset — hates when either of those emotions are in connection to you. hates it, hates it, hates it more than anything.

he does everything he possibly can to avoid it; his eyes are keen, always have been, and he can see when that thin line he shouldn’t cross crawls a little too close for comfort. when the rubber band of your patience just snaps. he sees all your buttons, knows which ones not to push. he knows you.

and, more importantly, more than anything — nothing you do could ever make him angry at you. 

(well, at least that’s what he thought.) 

satoru’s anger is a fickle thing, controlled, kept under wraps. it’s a slow process; it simmers, boils, a cup of chamomile brewed too long. and then it all but invades his senses. it never gets the best of him, never, but right now he can feel it — little pinpricks against his skin, a frustration that stirs his guts and has his eyes going cold.

satoru towers over you, like this. full height on display. not slouching or draping himself over furniture, but standing tall, and proud, and menacing. he isn’t smiling, and that’s all you need to know that he’s upset with you. his eyes are layered over with discontentment. 

a sigh spills from his lips, a little gruff, unmistakably annoyed. it slices the silence of the room in half, and a shiver travels down your spine. he doesn’t notice it. his voice has a rough edge to it, something firm. something that doesn’t sound like it could come out of his mouth at all.

”don’t act like such a child.”

a flinch. or maybe more like a jolt; this time, he notices, but it’s too late. he’s in too deep, boiled water licking at his ankles, pulling him down. frustration nips at his skin, and he can’t quite seem to push it away.

and you’re just so, so unaccustomed to it. unaccustomed to seeing him wear anything but a smile, unaccustomed to that cold gaze, usually nothing but warm and fond when it meets your own. this isn’t like him.

it’s not like him at all.

swallowing thickly, you do your best to calm down. but before you can make any attempt to contain it, wetness begins to gather in the corners of your eyes. pooling, little droplets yearning to fall.

satoru notices them instantly. he sees that sad glimmer, framed by the murky darkness seeping in from beyond the curtains, accompanied by the symphony of pitter patter against the windowpane. tears, much like the rain beating down outside.

and his chest goes cold.

a tiny sniffle pushes past your lips, and the dam inside you begins to break — tears tripping over your lash line, rolling down your cheeks. cascading across your pretty face. the air fills with a sense of dread, and both of you seem to be thinking the exact same thing.

(oh, fuck.)

satoru notices, belatedly, that his throat has gone dry. that his heart feels itchy, again. it itches and itches but he can’t do anything to soothe it, and your tears continue to fall. 

his heart begins to crack. right down the middle, like a gash in the reflection of a puddle, right across his chest. it hurts.

an inhale, then an exhale. you’re still trying to keep it all together, grasping for control over your emotions, but it’s not going too well. the little breaths that escape your throat are shaky at best, hands trembling as you wipe the tears away with the front of your wrists. and your voice sounds a little like it’s about to crumble away. 

”sorry,” you squeak, taking a step back. there’s a silent panic in the gesture, one that makes satoru want to get down on his knees. ”i’ll just — i’ll leave —”

he wants to stop you. he needs to stop you. but he does nothing, nothing at all, even as you stumble out. leaving the haunting echo of tiny sniffles and tear-stained cheeks behind you. 

satoru just stands there. once again, the sight of your tears seems to render him completely helpless. useless.

and he's frustrated, honestly. frustrated by the argument, by your tears, by his own guilt. he’s so frustrated he wants to claw his eyes out. he scratches at his forearm, but it does no good. all he can think of is your frightened little expression.

(he scared you.)

satoru slumps down on the couch, head in his hands, running rough fingers through his soft hair. it’s unruly by the time he’s done, and his bottom lip is bruised with teeth marks, and everything in the world feels so meaningless. so out of tune.

(he made you cry.)

a sigh. drawn out, tinged with exhaustion, bitter and battered like the swing of a baseball bat. he feels a little like he could throw up. it’s foreign, this emotion, suffocating. how long has it been since he genuinely felt this kind of shame?

the crack in his heart grows deeper, while you’re gone. more severe. every moment you spend outside of his vision makes him falter more and more, makes his desperation grow. desperate to plead for your forgiveness, to convince you not to leave. to wipe the tears away from your cheeks, delicately, the way you deserve. but he can do nothing but sit there, useless, repeating the same old phrase inside his mind.

he’ll make it up to you.

and when you finally come back, having calmed down a bit, he does just that. you’re embarrassed, he can tell, a little meek. it makes him feel that discomforting emotion, again, that ache. the crack that only ever seems to deepen.

but he covers it all up with a smile. a little sheepish, more than a little forced, but he hopes you understand. hopes you can see his remorse, see a man who loves you, because he does. 

so satoru takes you into his arms, softly, hands finding the small of your back. delicate, protective. a little whisper spilling from his lips. 

”’m sorry, baby. i didn’t mean it.”

and it’s not enough. he knows it isn’t. but he does what he can — even when it just ends up clumsy, teasing, bordering on something that most would interpret as insincere. all he can do is coddle you. shower you in hugs and kisses, gifts and praises. he hands it out like candy, eager hands finding yours, everything spilling out of his chest all at once. 

there’s a desperation to it that isn’t lost on you.

but it works. he’ll make it up to you; he swears. and he dotes on you until you’re too embarrassed to be sad anymore, apologizes until his throat runs dry. until he’s sure you believe him. 

he brews you another cup of chamomile, stirred to perfection, warm enough to make up for the shiver he sent down your spine. the rain beating down on your windows serves as a constant reminder of his failure, and satoru does his best to ignore it. swallowing what’s left of his frustration, focusing on you.

anything to see you smile again. anything to wash away the red tint to your eyes, the puffy skin beneath them. anything to hear you laugh, to get you to feel safe around him again. 

(anything to make him forget the sight of those tears rolling down your cheeks.)

panic, panic, panic.

it’s all he can feel, all he can think, the only emotion his muddled mind can cling to. he’s in pure, sincere, genuine panic, and you aren’t saying a thing. can’t bring yourself to.

arms wrapped around his waist, tightly, you hide away in the crook of his neck. clutching the fabric of his shirt, burrowing your face deeper into his warmth — and you’re not just crying.

you’re downright sobbing.

satoru knew something was off the moment you fell into his embrace, suddenly, tackling him into a hug so desperate it left him reeling. a kind of desperation he isn’t used to, from you.

he knew something was wrong. 

he knew even before he heard it; your choking sobs, those shaky, heaving breaths. muffled into the cotton of his shirt, his uncertain arms around you.

they break his heart.

”hey, hey…” there’s a soothing lilt to his voice, awfully delicate. sweet like molten honey, almost enough to hide the panic. ”what’s wrong?”

satoru holds you to his chest, safe and secure, cradling you protectively. as if shielding you from the world — from whatever or whoever got you like this. as if you’d crumble into dust, otherwise.

he tries to calm down, but his mind is spinning like a broken clock, and your silence doesn’t help. you’re trying to respond; he knows you are, but you just can’t get the words out. any attempts only make you cry harder.

a shake of your head is all he gets — and it’s not much, but satoru’s learned to make a lot out of a little. 

so he continues to hold you, hiding his worry, tucking his anxiety away somewhere you won’t be able to see. he curses, inwardly, grasping blindly for conclusions — for some divine guidance. how is he supposed to deal with this?

(how long has it been since he felt so very useless?)

gentle. that’s the approach he takes, finally, hiding his nervosity. he rocks you back and forth, just a little, like he’s lulling you to sleep; his warm hands finding the small of your back, the back of your head. cradling you so close you hear his rapid heartbeat by your ear.

soothing whispers. murmured into your hair, so soft they seem to melt once they slip from his tongue, all honey and devotion. affection so palpable you taste it in the air, from the breaths he exhales. 

”it’s fine. i’m here, i’m here… i’ve got you.”

he doesn’t know what he’s doing, not really, but it seems to work. because you calm down, after a while, just sniffling into his neck and letting him soothe you. sobs and unstable heaves, turning into whimpers and shaky breaths. clinging to him all the while; so desperate for comfort, for him.

it makes him feel so, so desperate to protect you, to wash every single one of your worries away.

it’s unbearable, this aching desire. like a great, insatiable, unnamed something deep within the caverns of his chest, clawing at his ribcage, snarling and hissing, itching to break out so it can open its maw and devour you both.

(it’s ugly. it’s grotesque. it wants to keep you safe so badly it might kill him for it.)

a coo. sad, dripping with care, a comforting tone that he hopes you’ll find soothing. he smooths his palm down the back of your head, heavy, doting. it hurts so much to see you hurt.

”my baby….” satoru exhales, a little shaky. but he smiles, and he hopes you can hear it, hopes it’ll help mend the pain in your chest. ”what’s got you this upset, hm? you're worrying me, here…”

a broken sniffle. the guilt eats at you, gnaws at your bones, and all you can do is hide away in the crook of his neck. apologizing, your voice no more than a tremor of a breath.

”’m sorry…”

and satoru thinks his heart shatters. he can practically hear the crash, feel the broken, useless little pieces dig into his skin.

his arms travel down to your hips, steady, and he lifts you up. just for a second, just so he can plop down on the floor with you in tow — keeping you snuggled into his neck. seated on his lap with your legs around his waist, like you’re his baby koala.

”shh, it's okay,” he soothes, a grounding rumble of his chest right by your ear. he’s got you enveloped, wrapped up in his buzzing warmth, and all you can feel is him. ”you’re okay. no matter what it is, i'll take care of it, alright? you can rely on me.”

a moment passes. 

satoru clears his throat. nervous, suddenly. ”you know that, right?”

all you can give him is a shaky nod, but it’s enough. he sighs, in palpable relief, still rubbing circles into your back. ”okay,” he sneaks a hand underneath your shirt, tracing little shapes into your bare skin. ”good.”

he isn’t sure how long you spend there, on the floor, entirely focused on comforting you. washing away all your sadness, with every gentle caress, every soothing murmur of there, there… every little stutter of his heartbeat next to yours.

and when you’ve finally calmed down, melting under his touch and into his skin, arms going lax around his neck — satoru takes a breath. collecting himself, so you don’t have to. acting like his heart isn’t still a mess of crushed glass.

”you okay now?” he coos, drawing absentminded hearts into the skin of your back. his voice is teasing, but warm, spilling from his tongue and into your ear. deep and smooth. ”almost gave me a heart attack, baby.”

he feels the way your grip around him tightens, just a smidge, and he hears the weak little breath you draw in. your voice is still shaky, and it makes him want to rearrange the world, stitch those broken vowels back together. 

(he doesn’t like how irrational it is, this insatiable something. how it makes him want to bend the rules of the universe, just to see you smile. a dangerous temptation.)

”i’m sorry,” you croak, clinging to him like a shipwreck to a shore. ”it’s not — not a big deal, ’m just…” 

satoru pulls back. just a little bit, making sure your arms and legs stay in their rightful place, curled around his neck and waist. making sure the two of you stay connected.

then he pinches your cheek.

”don’t apologize,” he quips, a playful frown on his face. soft, a vague furrow of his brows. like he’s scolding you. 

it makes you wince, your eyes downcast. you look so meek. a little like a kicked puppy, glassy eyes glancing up at him in search of comfort.

satoru clicks his tongue. ”and don’t look at me like that, either.” 

he boops your nose, playful, doting, and you exhale weakly. it’s small, more breath than a real laugh, but you’re almost smiling, and —

it’s a start. it’s something.

satoru coos, voice dripping with warmth, sickeningly sweet. it seeps from his fingertips when he cradles your cheek in his palm, rubbing circles into the puffy skin beneath your eyes. there’s a mirth in his own, crinkled at the edges, tucked into that blue shade, something glazed over with pure adoration.

”there’s that smile.” 

he leans forward, closer, to press a kiss against the bridge of your nose, eyelashes fluttering. tickling your skin. you fall further into his embrace and he makes no move to resist, wouldn’t do it even if he physically could. even if he had the strength to let you go.

then he broaches the subject. hesitant. tactful, careful, delicate — he tries to remember how it works. how to handle something fragile. he thinks of those boxes you carried last week, little porcelain cups. heavy in his arms. he thinks of the way you jab his side with your elbow; gentle, always gentle, even though there’s never any need.

he thinks of you, and it all comes easy. that’s how it always goes.

”wanna talk about it?” he asks, softly. fingers treading through your hair, scratching softly at your scalp. it makes you melt, a little. clearing your throat.

”it’s nothing, really,” you mumble, tiny, seeking respite in the warmth that seeps from his body. speaking with a raspy voice, a hoarse throat, all tired out after crying. ”nothing big, anyway…” 

a moment passes, before you continue. ”i guess it's just been a rough week,” you admit, a sigh slipping from your lips, tinged with pure exhaustion. ”just little things piling up. ’m okay now.” 

a hum. satoru clears his throat.

”anything i can do?”

(please let me help.)

but you only shake your head. ”you’ve already done enough,” you assure him, leaning into his touch. ”think i just needed to get it all out, y’know?”

a beat. an itch. satoru holds you tight, a little tighter than he should. gentle, he reminds himself. but he needs you close enough to feel the flutter of your heartbeat, close enough to delude himself that you’ve merged together. closer isn’t close enough.

he gnaws at his bottom lip, teeth sinking into the flesh. pulling words out from the back of his throat, uncertain. ”i’m always here,” he settles on. ”if there’s anything you need, come straight to me. okay?”

a frown plays at your lips. you’re silent, for a while, until he hears you mumble beneath your breath.

”i don’t want to bother you so much, though…”

”— it’s not a bother.”

the words spill into the air, a little more firm than he meant to sound. but he means them.

”i’m serious. if you ever need help, with anything, come find me. i’m yours,” satoru inhales, deep, his chest moving in tune with the breath. you’re carried along with it, as if being lulled to sleep, following the steady pattern of his lungs. 

then he exhales. in, and out, and with it comes a promise. ”if anyone makes you cry, i’ll get rid of them.”

he says it casually, so casually that you assume it’s a joke, a bout of breathless giggles pushing past your lips. the sound has his own curling up, and he doesn’t have the heart to correct you. has enough tact to know that this might not be the best moment to let you know that he’s honestly a little terrified of how far he’d be willing to go to keep you safe and happy. 

but you’re smiling, finally, laughing. and that matters more than anything. when he closes his eyes, he thinks he can even feel the telltale signs that his heart is picking itself back up, gluing jagged shards into a shape that resembles you.

"that's scary!” you gasp, amusement bubbling up inside your throat. ”you’d go to jail for me?”

satoru huffs. ”bold of you to assume i’d get caught,” he tuts, a smug smile on his face. it makes you giggle, again, and he feels like a god.

”okay, okay,”  you nose at his neck, breathing him in, strawberry lotion and laundry detergent filling your senses. ”please don’t kill anyone on my behalf, though.”

”no promises.”

”satoru…”

slowly, steadily, his heart begins to stitch itself together. it helps that you’re there, he thinks. helps that you’re pressed up against him, that you’re holding him, like he’s the safest thing in the world. like you trust him.

(the word tastes like molten honey and luscious berries, sickly-sweet on his tongue. he gulps it down hungrily.)

it’s healing. the weight of your arms around him, the breaths that brush against his neck. he holds you to keep you together, intact, to keep himself together. a shipwreck and a shore — he just isn’t sure which one of you is which. but your jagged edges fit just right with his own.

”i don’t like seeing you cry.”

you blink. gazing up at him, with a contemplative look in your eyes. it melts into something a little too close to guilt for his liking. shame.

”— but i still want you to let me see you like that.” satoru smiles, with a tilt of his head. snowy tufts of hair falling across his face. ”is that weird?”

a moment passes. then you hum.

”no,” you exhale, a little breathless. smiling, somewhat weak, but still enough to have his heart skipping a beat. ”i love that about you, satoru.”

”huh?” he gapes at you — blinking dumbly. ”love what? that i want to see you sob into my chest?”

”that you try,” you stifle a yawn, sleepily nuzzling into him, all tuckered out from crying. ”even when it makes you a little uncomfortable.”

satoru stills. 

silence fills the space between you. there’s nothing more to say. his tongue isn’t really cooperating with him, anyhow — all tied up. so he leaves a kiss on the top of your head, and doesn’t say a word about the tremor running through his chest. 

he hates seeing you cry. hates how powerless it makes him feel, how useless. hates the fact that he can’t always protect you from the world, from himself.

but you let him see you like that.

he thinks of your tears, crystalline and glassy, like translucent marbles on a summer shore — and sees the trust instead of the sorrow. he thinks of your tearstained face, meek and feeble, and knows it’ll always be enough to break his heart to pieces. 

he thinks of you, and tells himself that it’s worth it; just as long as he gets to bring that pretty little smile back to life. 

[onlinecounselling]

Find Calm Within Exploring Anger Management Counseling Near You

We’ve all been there: feeling our blood boil, frustration building, and suddenly, anger erupts. While anger is normal, managing it effectively can be challenging. If anger feels overwhelming and affects your personal or professional life, it might be time to consider anger management counselling near me. In this guide, we’ll explore what anger management counselling entails, its benefits, and how to find the right counsellor to help you regain control over your emotions.

Introduction to Anger Management Counseling

Understanding Anger and Its Triggers

Anger is a natural response to feeling wronged or threatened. It’s our mind’s way of signalling that something is off-balance. However, when anger becomes a frequent or intense reaction, it can harm our relationships, work environment, and overall health. Understanding what triggers your anger is the first step toward managing it, and that’s where anger management counselling comes in.

Why Seek Anger Management Counseling?

You might wonder, “Do I need counselling for my anger?” Seeking anger management help near me can be beneficial if anger disrupts your daily life, damages relationships, or negatively impacts your health. Through counselling, you’ll not only learn strategies to control anger but also gain a deeper understanding of its root causes.

Benefits of Anger Management Counseling

Seeking counselling for anger management is about much more than controlling outbursts. It’s a journey toward emotional growth and self-understanding.

Improving Relationships Through Anger Management

Uncontrolled anger can create tension in relationships, leading to misunderstandings and emotional distance. Anger management counselling can teach you techniques for effective communication and conflict resolution, enabling healthier and more positive relationships.

Reducing Health Risks Associated with Anger

Did you know chronic anger can lead to health issues like high blood pressure, heart disease, and weakened immunity? Learning to manage anger can significantly reduce these health risks and improve your overall physical and mental well-being.

Developing Emotional Resilience

Anger management counselling helps you develop resilience by teaching coping strategies. You’ll learn to handle life’s challenges with a calmer, more measured approach rather than letting anger take control.

Enhancing Self-Awareness

An essential part of anger management counselling is building self-awareness. By understanding what triggers your anger, you can better manage it. This self-awareness empowers you to react to situations more mindfully, rather than impulsively.

Techniques Used in Anger Management Counseling

Counsellors use a range of techniques to help you handle anger effectively. Each method is tailored to meet individual needs, making your counselling experience unique.

Cognitive-Behavioral Therapy (CBT)

CBT is one of the most common techniques in anger management counselling. It focuses on identifying and changing negative thought patterns that lead to anger. With CBT, you learn to reframe these thoughts, leading to more positive reactions.

Mindfulness and Relaxation Techniques

Mindfulness teaches you to stay present and aware of your emotions, which can be incredibly helpful when managing anger. Relaxation techniques, such as deep breathing and visualization, help calm your mind and body when anger starts to rise.

Communication Skills Training

Many people struggle with anger because they feel misunderstood or unable to express their emotions effectively. Communication skills training in counselling can help you convey your feelings calmly and assertively, reducing the likelihood of angry outbursts.

Stress Management Techniques

Often, anger is a stress response. Learning stress management strategies—such as time management, setting healthy boundaries, and practising self-care—can reduce your overall stress levels, helping you manage anger more effectively.

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Finding the right anger management counselling near me can seem daunting, but knowing what to look for can simplify the process.

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When searching for a counsellor, look for qualities like empathy, patience, and expertise in anger management techniques. A good counsellor will create a safe, non-judgmental space for you to express your feelings and work through challenges.

Checking Credentials and Reviews

Make sure the counsellor is certified and licensed. Reading reviews and testimonials from previous clients can also give you insights into their counselling style and effectiveness. Choose someone with a strong track record in anger management counselling to ensure you’re in good hands.

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[carlamathew00]

Clinical Psychologists | Depression Counselling in Woking

Sue Webb Psychology professional psychologists provide personalised services to assist you in navigating problems, managing Depression Counselling in Woking, improving relationships, and optimising your mental health.

[pirateprincessblog]

doll

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐭𝐨𝐱𝐢𝐜 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩, 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐦 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐝𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐥𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐬. 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐢𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥. 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐞.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x f!reader insert 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: jeong yunho has a secret. it is locked away in his apartment, away from the dorm, away from his close friends, and away from his idol lifestyle. it waits for him every night, and sends him off every morning. and he just can't wait to end his day and get his hands on his pretty little doll.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 17k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: stockholm syndrome, captive!reader, kidnapper!yunho, manipulator!yunho, angst, fluff, smut, slowburn, degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, touch deprivation, violence, light jumpscare(once), bondage, victim blaming, anger management issues, threats, blackmailing, petting, dry humping, dacryphilia, dumbification, praise, wax play, pet names, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: the reader isn't necessarily small or petite, yunho is simply that big and strong that compared to him she is written the way she is. :) not completely proofread!

𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.

yunho detests being away for a long time. more than that, he loathes having to keep making up excuses and lying to his close friends just to go to his own apartment. the time digits on his phone screen do not change fast enough, and soon the man finds himself gnawing the inside of his cheek and thinking whether or not to tap on his most used texting app. he sits in his makeup chair, giving the makeup artist a hard time as his fingers itch to type a message to a certain someone.

"yunho, please stay still. i'll be done faster if you let me work." the woman begs. he sighs, and finally puts the phone in his pocket. at least tries to, before a notification stops him.

doll: yunnie doll: i miss you yunnie :( doll: [file attached]

yunho lowers the brightness of his phone screen, then the volume just in case. his fingers then eagerly tap on the file, and his eyes are met with a sight he will never get tired of seeing: a picture of your face, eyes glossy with tears, cheeks flushed, and lips a pretty pink shade, just how he likes it.

doll: be home soon, pretty please?

yunho: what did i say about being needy and impatient? i'll be there when i get there. behave.

doll: i will. i'm sorry.

he knows that he has worsened the situation. that your bottom lip is probably quivering right now, and fresh tears are threatening to spill down your rosy cheeks. and he doesn't hate it. he only hates that he isn't there to see it. satisfied with your lack of replies, he finally sets his phone aside and allows the artist to finish her job.

when yunho arrives at the apartment, he makes sure to turn the key slowly when unlocking the door. he doesn't turn any lights on, simply putting his jacket on the well memorised spot near the entrance and proceeding into the living room. the window is open, but yunho does not worry. you know better than that.

the place is spotless, which means that you really wished to catch him in a good mood today. and he likes when you work hard for him, cleaning his apartment, cooking for him, ironing his clothes. when he is happy, you are happy. and when you are happy, yunho has hit the jackpot.

in the corner of his eye, he notices a sketch pad and a few pencils neatly set on the corner of the window where you loved to sit. the absence of light meant only one thing; you were fast asleep. you probably tired yourself from crying, then tucked yourself in like usual.

the man's polished shoes lightly click against the spotless parquet floor, legs carrying him to the window where he has bought and installed a hanging chair for you. you loved to sink into the fluffy pillows under the blanket, big eyes looking outside where you know you are not allowed to go. but not once did you whine about it, instead thanking him for allowing you to look. he takes the sketch pad, slender fingers tracing the faint pencil lines on the white paper.

it is his face, from today's live they held before their comeback. when you texted him, you really did miss him. so much that you turned on the big tv which you never usually touch without him, turned on the youtube live and made multiple sketches of his face. you had even sneakily put a few hearts around his head, and a small one on his nose. at the bottom of each paper, your pretty handwriting; my yunnie.

he notices that the pencils are getting smaller from being used and sharpened much more lately. he will get you new ones as soon as possible, just so you don't stop and fall in a slump again. he loves when you do things that make you happy.

instead of going to the bedroom next, he proceeds into the kitchen, pouring himself a glass of whisky and for you – a glass of peach iced tea with four ice cubes. you love it when he brings it for you. even though he has bought packages and packages of the product, and you can drink it whenever yourself, it always tastes the sweetest when he brings it to you.

and he does, quietly setting it on the nightstand and taking a sip of his alcoholic beverage. he sets the short glass right next to your tall one with cherry blossom prints, before finally sitting on the bed.

your figure is half covered by the fluffy blanket he has brought you as a present from one of his tours. you had used it every day and night since, going as far as being whiny while it washed and dried. yunho didn't understand your love and attachment to an item like that, until you confessed one night, halfway asleep and a blubbering mess.

"you bought it for me. it means that you saw it and thought of me before doing that. you remembered me, yunnie."

and since then, yunho always looked for presents to bring you. but he was always rushed, and ended up buying you a lousy souvenir or a chocolate from the duty free shops. he promised himself to get you something even if it meant being late for his schedule next time.

the moonlight peeks through the blinds, illuminating your still flushed cheeks and smeared mascara. your tied up hands are hidden under the pillow where your head rests. softly, yunho pulls them from under it, fingers carefully undoing the knots he made himself. the knots which he crafted himself are thoughtfully put together and pretty against your skin. he was generous enough to let you pick the colour of the ropes, and your answer was always the same: lavender.

once your hands are free, yunho brings your wrists to his lips, pressing a sweet kiss to each one before turning his attention to your resting face. his fingers itch to caress you, to touch you, but he doesn't wish to disturb your peace.

he doesn't have to, because his scent envelops you, and before he can react, your nose moves like a bunny's one and your eyes open. he can't help the smile that spreads on his lips when he sees your excited expression, just before you throw yourself on him and try to wrap your arms around his shoulders and back. but he is big, much bigger than you, so you decide that wrapping them around his neck is good enough.

"you came." you exhale into his ear.

"don't i always?" yunho has to peel you away from him, and you whine as a protest. but the way his lips lose the playful curve and his eyes become serious make you bite your tongue as a punishment. regret washes over your features, and yunho is quick to grab your chin with his hand, pressing his thumb on your bottom lip. "be good." he warns.

"yes, sir."

and it's all it takes for yunho to soften again, taking you in his arms and standing up. "take the juice for me."

with one hand you hold onto his neck, making it easier for him to carry you, and with the other grab the glass of iced tea from the nightstand. as if it's hard for him to carry you; he is so strong you must be light as a feather to him. without questioning him, you relax in his hands, until you feel him sit and set you on his lap. a blanket is placed over your bare legs, enough to keep you warm as you sit in the hanging chair next to the window. the man takes the juice from your hand, setting it on the window next to the sketch pad. he doesn't ask about it yet, not wanting to pry unless you tell him yourself. he is happy you've returned to your little hobby.

"are you cold?" he asks, cupping your cheeks and then hands to check the warmth. when you shake your head, he presses a kiss to your forehead, lips a plush cloud against your skin. "my pretty girl."

you only smile as a response, still recovering from your sleep.

"you've been busy today." he notices the rearranged watch collection on the shelf below the television. the plants are refreshed, the once sagged leaves now proudly sticking up. "tell me about your day, bunny."

it wasn't unusual for yunho to sit you in his lap and ask about your day. in fact, it was your favourite part of the day. the way he listens and looks at you with his pretty eyes, nodding along to your never-ending sentences, and those unfinished ones that get interrupted with a fresh thought that you will forget if you don't say it immediately, scolding you and playfully pinching your thigh when you stop yourself mid talking and apologize for being annoying. yet lately, yunho doesn't come as often. what was once an every day routine was now a once a week occurrence. even then, he'd come and check on you, laid with you until you fell asleep, then sneaked off and disappeared into the night.

you hated it. you felt stupid, and lied to. he'd convince you that he left just before you woke up, that he stayed the whole night. but he didn't know that you felt his absence the moment he stood up from the bed. there wasn't much you could do anyway. as if he would listen. yunho is as stubborn as he is handsome. insanely.

"i vacuumed, mopped, cleaned out the fridge and threw out the expired products, put on fresh bedsheets, swept the balcony, watered the plants, rearranged your watch and game collection." you listed, head resting in the crook of his neck and eyes fixed on the ceiling. then, you stopped. and so did yunho's soothing circles on your thigh as he held your body close to his. you swallow, thinking of ways to continue before he can sense the shift in your behaviour. "i turned the tv on, watched you. you were very handsome today, yunho."

yunho hums, and for a moment, you relax and almost sigh with relief. the hand that doesn't hold you cups your cheek, pulling your head away from the crook of his neck and resting it on his shoulder so he can look at you. "who was at the door?"

your blood runs cold in your veins. yunho knows you like the back of his hand, and the flaw is in you for not knowing it well by now. you swallow slowly, eyes still locked with his dark ones, not daring to look away. "a man." you know better than to lie.

"what did he look like?" he presses, tone still calm. and it sends shivers down your spine. it is like the calm before the storm.

"i didn't see. i promised i'd never look."

"then how do you know it was a man?" the dark haired man tilts his head, raising his eyebrow.

before answering, your remind yourself that you are telling the truth, and that you should be calm. "he yelled your name."

"and what did my little doll do?" his hand drops from your cheek to your neck, slender fingers lightly grazing the skin just under your jaw before they completely wrap around the neck. the touch is gentle and soothing.

"i ran to the bedroom and hid under the covers. i was quiet, i promise." you are quick to offer him your pinky as a proof. but he simply shakes his head, then presses his lips to your temple.

"good girl."

the grip on your neck goes from light and loose to tight, growing stronger with yunho pressing the sides of it and making you look at him with confusion. "what-?"

your eyes widen as his grip intensifies, ridding you of oxygen slowly and already making you gasp for air. "if..." he starts, face close to yours. so close that his warm breath washes over your paling face, and lips barely brush against yours. "...you ever open the door, or even look through the window while somebody is there... you hear me?" his voice is a mere whisper against your mouth. you nod frantically, hoping that he releases you if you showed obedience. "yeah? i'll kill you."

"ye-es..." you choke out, tears spilling down your cheeks. small hands wrapping around his big one in hopes of stopping him, but to no avail.

"i didn't catch that." he presses further. "do you understand? if you ever think of getting out of here, or even manage to escape somehow, i will hunt you down and kill you."

you stop fighting back, instead opting for nods and silent tears. "i understand."

"if i can't have you..." he takes a look at your squirming and crying state one more time, then finally releases you. "...no one can."

a sob leaves your lips, and your hands are quick to reach your mouth, hoping that he didn't hear or at least sees your remorse.

but yunho doesn't say anything. instead, he pulls you close to him, his clothed body warming up your half naked one. "it's okay." he coos. "it's over."

"was i good?" you dare ask. you need to know that you didn't ruin what you built with him. that he didn't lose his trust in you. that he won't leave you alone for a month again in this place.

"you were perfect."

and that's all you need to hear to be calm. the peach juice waters down on the window as yunho lightly swings the hanging chair, lulling you to sleep with his voice and kisses to your cheeks and forehead.

the next time you open your eyes, you are angry and throw a tantrum. the sheets are on the floor, as well as pillows, and if yunho found you acting this way, he wouldn't be very pleased. but you are getting tired of him putting you to sleep and sneaking off. the mornings where you woke up next to him are long gone. your heart aches for those days.

there is only so much mess you can make with your wrists tied, so you give up on letting your frustration out on the faultless objects. with the fluffy blanket wrapped around your shoulders, you make your way to the living room and slump against the cushions on the couch. only after sitting up straight do you notice a small paper bag and a fresh glass of peach iced tea. the pink cursive writing on the bag makes your eyes almost sparkle from joy. it's been a while since yunho has brought you something from the bakery you absolutely adored.

you don't bother with keeping the bag, instead ripping it in half and using it as a plate for the sweet treat. two eclairs: a pink one and a green one. raspberry and pistachio, just how you used to eat in the mornings with him. he'd get the pistachio for himself, and raspberry for you. and you always wanted a bite of his, and then regretted your raspberry one because his tasted better. and he was always happy to exchange it with you.

not once did he complain about you always ordering the same and regretting it. not once did he refuse to let you have a bite. not once did he say no when you wanted to switch with him. not once did he bring two pistachio eclairs. and you might've become spoiled because of things like that, and even though both of you knew it, none of you said anything about it, because you were both equally guilty. you for pushing him, and him for indulging.

but it worked. it always did. that's why you aren't sure why yunho has suddenly distanced yourself from him. you're trying to be good for him, take care of yourself for him, even go as far as leaving windows open as a sign that you could run away if you wanted to, but you won't. at least that's what you liked to think. deep down you knew that yunho would find you even if you dug yourself a grave and hid under a fake tombstone. he'd find you, and then... you don't want to think about it.

but you have no reason to run. he takes care of you. you are his little doll, and your only task is to be pretty and obedient. but lately, you only have to do that two or three times a month. the rest of the days you die of boredom, cleaning the place, rearranging the fridge, turning the furniture around so that the place looks different and fresh. you are running out of ideas.

now, as you flip through the channels on the television, you are working up the courage to tell him how bored you are. maybe ask for netflix or disney. you are tired of watching the same youtube content over and over again. you can feel your brain rotting as you try to keep up with the recent famous youtubers. a movie would've been more educational at least.

as you eat the pink eclair, you scroll on the phone yunho has gifted you recently, with a promise of you not texting or calling anyone else but him. he can track your activity, and has limited your access to certain sites and apps, which leaves you with a few games that don't require network and a music app. it helped with your boredom, but nothing will ever be as interesting as having him around.

your fingers work faster than your brain, and you end up entering the one and only conversation on the screen.

doll: you left :(

it was always schrödinger's cat with him. he will either get mad at you - like yesterday - or indulge in your whiny and pouty behaviour as he secretly enjoys it. the one way to find out is by opening the box - text him.

yunho: my schedule is packed, sweetheart. you know that.

doll: when will i be a part of your schedule?

yunho: don't push it

doll: but i miss you so much

doll: can i please please please call you? pretty please? just for a minute?

on the other side of the screen, at the other end of the city, yunho sighs. it seems you've become more impatient and needy lately, and he knows he is at fault. you wait for him all dolled up, only to fall asleep because he always arrives so late. then, you talk for a while, and he lulls you to sleep before he has to run back to his dorm.

he taps on the phone icon in the corner of the screen after checking whether anyone is paying attention to him in the dressing room. he is the last in line to get dressed, which gives him more than a minute that you asked for so nicely. he can't say no to you. not when he misses you too. but he'd never say it to you out loud.

you pick up after the first ring, and yunho can almost hear the wide smile as you greet him. "yunnie!"

"hi, sweetheart." his heart swells at your still raspy voice. you must've just woken up. "did you have breakfast yet?"

"i only ate the raspberry one."

"oh you naughty little-" yunho purses his lips. "so the pistachio is only good if it's taken away from me, huh?"

"maybe. i took a bite. it's really not as sweet as when i steal it from you." you playfully reply. "but, yunnie..."

"hmm?"

"i actually wanted to ask you something."

"ask away doll. what can i do for you?"

"next time you come over..." you hesitate before continuing. "would you bring me a book or something? pretty please? i get bored when you're not around."

"oh." yunho says, surprised at the odd request. he didn't know what he was expecting. perhaps that you'd ask him if he'd untie you. or something that he surely wouldn't allow. but he forgot how perfect and loyal you are to him, and how much he has lowered your standards. "of course. anything specific?"

"not really. you pick!" you are so happy that you'll get a book that you don't even care which one it is. "no scary ones, please."

the dark haired man chuckles into the phone. in the corner of his eye, he notices the group leader eyeing him as he gets dressed. yunho's smile drops, and he is forced to end the conversation. "i'll see you soon. don't go late to bed tonight. you need your beauty sleep."

"oh. leaving already?" he hears you pout. he'd give anything to playfully tug your bottom lip right now. "alrighty then. i'll go back to missing you until you come again. which is, what, in a week?"

"be good for me." he orders sternly. "no sassing me. and no tantrums."

"no tantrums."

"and no sassing."

"and no sassing, blah blah."

"dollie. i'm serious." he turns around so that his back faces hongjoong. the older man has taken a great interest in yunho's conversation. "be a good bunny for me."

"yes, yunho."

"good."

just before he lowers his phone to hang up, he hears your faint voice. a mere whisper, which he wasn't supposed to hear. but he did. "i love you, yunnie."

and it fucking shatters him and ruins him inside out.

"dumb little doll." he sighs, looking at the wallpaper of the chat of you dressed in his favourite outfit with two pretty ribbons attached to your hair.

jeong yunho didn't expect his schedule to end so early. tomorrow is monday - his day off. technically, his time off starts now, as he steps into the library at the great city mall. and he makes the most of it. a basket securely hangs from his hand, already halfway filled with books with eye-catching covers and interesting plot summaries on the back. you'll love these, no doubt. and even if you don't, yunho won't hesitate to come back and buy more.

he forgot how dull it is for you to stay in that apartment all day and all night. the least he can do is help you find another hobby while he is not there with you. though, he is working on being less absent. but no matter how much he tries, his work schedule seems to track his brain, because they love swamping him with new interviews and variety shows every time he even thinks of having time off. this time he will be careful not to complain much around the staff about his free time.

at the same time as him, someone reaches for the last book he had his eyes on. it was this month's bestseller, all over tiktok, and he needed to buy it. but so did the person next to him, because they held onto it and weren't planning on letting go any time soon. yunho sighs. he truly isn't in the mood for this right now.

just as he gets ready to scold the person, he notices that it is a woman. a young one. a pretty one. so instead of angry words he was ready to spew, yunho simply smiles. "hi."

"hello," she greets back. "my, you've got good taste."

both of them glance at the basket in his hand. the basket that is meant for you. yunho's smile quickly fades, replaced by a serious face and confusing the woman in the process. "it's for my girlfriend."

"oh." disappointment is evident in her voice. she lets go of the book, then opts to look at the shelves instead of the man so she can hide her frown. "well, she'll be very happy with that book."

"she will." yunho smiles to himself, imagining your excited face as you go through the books.

"you must love her very much. that is a lot of money in that basket-"

"that is none of your concern." his brows are furrowed when he looks at the blonde woman. what is it with love talk today?

"oh. you don't love your girlfriend?" she is confused once again.

her confusion is then replaced by fear, caused by yunho who grabs her by the neck and slams her against the shelves. "take your little book and mind your own fucking business. got it?"

he shoves the book into her hands. the woman nods frantically, eyes glossy with tears and hands shaking as they hold the book. finally, yunho lets go of her. the book is dropped on the ground, and she bolts for the door. only then does yunho realize what he has done. but there is nothing he can do about it. thankfully, he wears his mask. he gets to keep his job another day.

yunho spends more time at the mall than he intended. three hours later, he is finally putting the key in the lock and entering his apartment. you jump at the familiar sound, and he hears your footsteps all the way from the bedroom. he sets the bags on the floor just in time to catch you into a hug.

"hi, doll." he coos. you only hum in response, burying your head into the crook of his neck and inhaling the faint traces of his perfume. he smells of vanilla and musk, with a hint of sweat. and you love every bit of it. nuzzling your nose against the sensitive area on the neck right under his ear, you can't help but sigh with content. yunho chuckles, before lightly squeezing your sides as a sign to let go of him.

you do so, without whines or tantrums this time. he wasn't supposed to come for another week, and he has graced you with the sudden visit. and you will make sure he doesn't regret it.

"i want you to go to the bathroom and freshen up while i prepare something." he orders with a kiss to your forehead.

"yes, yunnie." you obey, already on your way to the bathroom.

it doesn't take you more than ten minutes to take a quick body shower, put on a new comfy sleep dress, and put your hair in a hair clip how he likes it. you almost skip through the hallway, the cold autumn air chasing your bare legs until you reach the bedroom where yunho hides. but when you open the door, he isn't there. only a few paper bags on the bed, and a box with a bow on top and small holes poked on the sides.

not sure if you can touch without him, you opt for sitting on the bed and waiting patiently for him. while he is gone, you glance at your chipped nail polish. you should've asked him for polish remover instead. you accidentally spilled it when you foolishly tried to multitask by watching television and painting your nails. does yunho notice things like that? will he say anything about it? what if you just paint over it? will it look bad?

your thinking is interrupted by the tall man entering the bedroom, with two glasses in his hands. one with whisky, and one in similar colour to it. you know it's your iced tea; its sweet scent envelops the room as soon as he sets it on the nightstand.

"my patient doll." he praises with a kiss to your head. his fingers find their spot under your chin, raising your head so that you look up at him. his other hand reaches for your hair that you have neatly pulled back into the hair clip. with a single motion, his finger hooks into a few strands of it, setting them free from the clip and letting them frame your face. "so pretty."

if you could physically melt on the bed right there and then, you would. the way yunho looks at you makes your brain mushy, and your legs weak. after all this time, he still has that effect on you.

"i got you something." he motions for you to stand up, then sits down and pulls you into his lap. your back rests against his chest as his does against the bed frame. you sit cross-legged, making space for the bags so you can reach them easier. he takes the box first, pulling it between his legs that hold you securely and in front of you. "go on, open it."

all the hesitation is gone as soon as he gives the green light. the bow is shoved aside, and so is the lid. a gasp leaves your mouth at the sight.

two light brown ears perk up at the newfound light, and soon enough, a snout peeks out of the box. it sniffs, and sniffs, until it gets the courage to climb out of the box and flips it over, trapping itself under it. yunho removes the box and throws it on the floor, causing both the animal and you to jolt lightly. then, he takes the almost hand sized rabbit in his hand, holding it for you to take.

"it's a rabbit."

"yes, love. it's a rabbit." he confirms.

"it's so cute."

"i know." he kisses your cheek. "a bunny for a bunny. now you'll have a little companion when i'm away."

you carefully take it in your hands, testing the waters. it is pure fluff in your hands, as soft as yunho's hair after a shower. a little ball of fur with two big eyes and big floppy ears. and it is all yours.

"what will you name her?"

"dawn." you have your answer ready.

yunho laughs fondly. "dawn?"

"it's my favourite part of the day." yunho then remembers you telling him how much you prefer sunrises over sunsets. sunsets make you sad. they mark the end of the day. and you hate when things end. dawn brings a fresh day, and the sun is as pretty when it rises as it is when it sets. "thank you, yunho. i love it."

"don't thank me, love. you deserve more than that for being so obedient for me. now go through the rest of the presents. i'll keep your bunny safe while you do it."

"uh..." you look at your tied wrists.

he manages to untie the knot with a single hand, keeping the rope in it and playing with it while you start digging through the bags. with each book you pull out you let out a squeal of excitement. if it weren't for yunho, you would've stayed up all night reading.

but he had other plans once you finished exploring, taking your hand in his and pulling you back into his lap. the bunny is fast asleep on the pillow next to him, making you his main point of attention. the last book is still in your hands, fingers flipping through illustrated pages of the limited edition and eyes gawking at it. the smell of whisky fills your nostrils, and you look up and find him taking a sip.

"what does it taste like?" you wonder.

yunho doesn't answer. instead, he brings the glass to your mouth, pressing the edge against your lips. "small sip. a tiny one."

you listen, keeping your lips closed so that only a small amount of liquid can pass through. something about this is so intimate: him holding you in his lap as you wear your sleep dress, a book in your hands, making you drink from his glass, not breaking eye contact as you do so.

and yunho's view is to die for. you look at him with those pretty eyes of yours, completely under his control and trusting him. your lips finally touch the whisky, and tongue barely peeks to taste it. you pull away, shutting your eyes and pursing your lips in disgust. "eugh."

yunho laughs, then downs the glass before putting it on the nightstand. "let's stick to your peach iced tea, hm?"

you nod in response. then, yunho finds the second light switch above the bed frame, turning it off. the moon is almost full, resting its silver rays on the bed and lighting up yunho's face. you'll never get over how insanely handsome he is. he is almost unreal. sometimes you even ask yourself whether he is a fruit of your imagination from staying alone for so long. no man you've met was this majestic: with hair as black as a raven, eyes dark and shiny as a starry night, porcelain skin, pretty nose with a little bridge where he rests his glasses, and oh, the prettiest pink lips. many times you've found yourself gazing upon his lips as he spoke or ate. and many times you wanted to close the distance as he held you on his lap while he read something or simply scrolled on his phone.

but you can't. yunho doesn't like being touched. at least that's what you gathered from the way he jumps when you try to remove a fallen eyelash from his cheek or straighten a sticking strand of hair. yunho gets very jumpy if you even hug him without warning. and you like to think that he is like that with everyone. that you aren't the issue.

but no matter how he behaves towards you, whether he is distant or can't keep his hands off you, he is still royally beautiful.

"thank you, love. you're not bad yourself."

blush creeps up your cheeks. you didn't mean to say it out loud. but yunho doesn't mind, and instead pulls a cover over both of you and sets the book aside. your legs are cold against his warm ones, still clothed. "won't you change?"

"i'm too lazy." he admits.

"can i change you?" you offer, sitting up and leaning on your elbows.

yunho smiles, eyes still closed. "i'd like to see you try."

in no time, you find his dark blue silk pajamas. that's the easy part. the hard part is yet to come. yunho is strong, and heavy. and big. blush warms up your cheeks once again as your hands find the hem of his turtleneck. he looks dashing in the tight turtlenecks and slacks. but right now, you'd rather see him comfortable. he deserves it after all the hard work.

he only helps you by raising his hands and head in the air just enough for you to pull the top off. you drink in the sight of his muscles, while his torso is covered by an undershirt. you pull the pajama top over his head, then his arms, and finally fix the collar. your eyes then fall on his belt. swallowing thickly, your fingers unbuckle it, and it causes yunho to grab your hands and stop you.

"i'll do it."

"what? why?" you're disappointed.

"i'll do it faster. i'm getting pretty sleepy, we should go to bed."

no amount of pouting convinces him to let you continue. he is out of his slacks and into the pajama bottoms in no time, giving you no time to sulk on the bed. he scoops you in his arms, throwing the fuzzy blanket over both of you.

"good night, bunny."

"whatever." you mumble into his chest.

the hand that rests on your lower back sinks to your bottom, pinching it lightly. you squeal, jolting away from his hand and further into his body. "behave."

"sorry." your voice is a mumble again. "yunnie?"

"go to sleep."

"but yunho." you whine, fingers playing with the buttons of his top.

he sighs. "yes?"

"what am i to you?"

that yunho cannot answer. simply because he has worked so hard on the relationship you two have. if he tells you, he might ruin the illusion. and you might remember. you might remember that it is not normal to be tied up and locked in a stranger's apartment. after all, you don't know the true him. that makes him a stranger to you. he has ridden you of any desire you had to escape, and instead made you depended on him. he has destroyed you, scared you so bad to the point that you started seeing a friend in him. he doesn't know whether you woke up one day and accepted your fate and decided to play along with his sick and twisted games of emotions and obsession, or simply had a switch in your brain click and made you the way you are right now. a loyal and obedient little pet for him to gawk at, dress up however he wishes, and keep locked away where nobody can find it.

he knows it's not normal. he knows his sins. and he knows that behind the loving eyes you give him that there is hate pushed down so deep, scared to make an appearance. he has pushed it there with his own actions. he also knows that just because he recognizes his flaws doesn't make him less guilty. moreover, it makes him even more evil. he knows, yet he doesn't stop.

he wishes he can, really. he wishes he can untie you, let you go, live a normal life, find a girlfriend, stop sneaking out of his dorm at late hours and return at early ones. hell, he could've asked you out on a date instead of putting his hand over your pretty mouth behind the concert stadium and drag you into his car. but then everybody would see you. somebody might even want to take you away from him. and yunho can't allow that. you are his to see, his to touch and his to keep.

you belong to him, heart and soul.

"does it matter?" his voice comes out as annoyed, but it doesn't affect you.

"a little." you admit. "you don't kiss me, but you give me affection other ways. what does that make us?"

it makes you my prisoner, and me your captor. you just don't know it yet. or maybe you've grown blind to it. maybe i've broken your perception of how things actually are. maybe i've convinced you that this all is normal.

"i'm sorry, i shouldn't have asked." you notice how tense he is under your touch. "good night."

but yunho doesn't want to leave you without an answer. he kisses your temple, then your cheek, and finally, your ear. his lips stay there, brushing against the sensitive ear shell as his warm breath tickles you. "you're mine. that's all that matters."

"are you mine?" you ask.

yunho sighs, pulling you closer to him and completely wrapping his arms around your shivering body. "good night, doll."

you wake up in a cold and empty bed again. excluding the curled up rabbit next to you.

and you are furious.

blinded by rage, you reach for your phone, not even noticing that your hands are still untied. usually he'd tie them up while you are halfway asleep or completely asleep as to not disturb you. before you can press the call button next to his name, the bathroom door opens, revealing the man you were about to scold. he has discarded his sleep top, leaving him only in bottoms and a sleeveless undershirt.

"thought i heard you wake up." he smiles. "come, let's get you ready for the day. i let you sleep in enough."

the phone is forgotten in the blanket, and your legs carry you into the bathroom. he has a toothbrush in his mouth, and his hair is a fluffy mess. you love when he looks this soft. he is less intimidating. not that you are scared of your yunho. he wouldn't hurt you. only if you give him a reason to.

noticing your bare feet on the cold tiles, the man picks you up and places you on the counter near the sink. he hands you your own toothbrush after he squirts the paste on it. comfortable silence swallows the small bathroom, the only sounds being the teeth brushing and yunho's light humming to a song as he stands between your legs that hang from the counter, swinging along with yunho's song. his hand rests comfortably on your thigh, thumb rubbing soothing circles on the exposed skin below the dress.

you've noticed he loves your thighs. to touch them, to pinch them and caress them. and you don't mind. in fact, you love that he can't get his hands off you. it makes you feel attractive. you hope you are attractive to him. sometimes it doesn't feel like that. you look at him with loving eyes, and he... he looks at you like you're his most prized possession. you're just an eye candy. a doll he comes to play with and dress her up just to feast his eyes. perhaps the fault is in you. you don't attract him enough. it could be your appearance. you should switch from the comfy silk sleepwear he has gifted you in every colour so you can be comfortable around the house into something more appropriate and mature. or maybe it was your behaviour. you are so depended on him that you often end up feeling extremely childish.

yet he insists that he loves doing everything for you. he loves to see you in the pastels. he loves when you ask him for help. and he loves making you ask for help by closing the jars too tight, or putting the glasses on the top shelves where you can't reach even if you climb on a chair.

"hey." his finger playfully taps your nose, noticing you have stopped brushing. "where did you go?"

you shake your head, ridding your brain of the thoughts for a while. "sorry. were you saying something?"

"i said," he takes the toothbrush from your hand and continues brushing your teeth for you, holding your jaw in his palm and head in place, then continues talking, "we have a busy day ahead of us."

"sho... you're shtaying all day?" you mumble with foam in your mouth.

"i'm all yours today." he finishes brushing, then motions for you to spit in the sink. you do so, earning yourself a playful pat on the head. "good girl."

"you have a little stubble." you notice, fingers reaching to touch the short hairs on his face. it is not often that yunho lets you touch him like that, so when your hand cups his cheek, you are surprised when he simply looks at himself in the mirror with furrowed eyebrows. he doesn't remove your hand, and you savour every second of it.

"suppose i do. i should shave it off." the man runs both toothbrushes under the warm water, then sets them in the cup next to each other. his dark blue one with black bristles is a funny contrast to your lavender one with white bristles. it's like they resemble the two of you. maybe that's why he bought them. "want to help me?"

"help you?" you raise your eyebrow. he doesn't answer. instead, he hands you his razor, showing you how to properly hold it. while he smears the shaving foam on his face, you can't help but take secret glances at his exposed arms. he notices, then looks down at his undershirt.

"right, i should probably take this off." with one single motion, the fabric lands on the floor and he steps on it. you are left gawking at his bare torso. he doesn't usually undress in front of you. this is the first time you see his defined body. he looks absolutely dashing, and the sight makes your stomach feel fuzzy. you instinctively try to close your legs, but forget that he is standing right between them. "come closer."

you are now sitting on the edge of the counter, and if it weren't for yunho's hands holding your thighs and keeping your body steady, you would've kissed the cold tiles below his feet. he guides one of your hands to his face, then lets you figure it out on your own. you hesitate. "what if i cut you?"

"well... try not to, i guess." he shrugs. "i want to be pretty for you too. just as you do for me."

as gentle as possible, you swipe the razor over his cheek. it leaves a smooth trail behind, without any red lines or spots. little by little, your smooth faced yunho appears, and so does a smile on your lips. with one final swipe, you finish, not cutting him once in the process. "all done!"

"good job, bunny." he praises with a kiss to your forehead. "come on now, let's get you dressed. as i said, we have a busy day ahead of us."

when yunho said busy, you thought he meant cleaning the house or helping him with something. not standing in line at an amusement park with your hands untied. you haven't been outside in forever, if you exclude the balcony. today, yunho has decided to surprise you with a trip to an amusement park. he looks comfortable and fresh, wearing a simple black t-shirt with black ripped jeans, a leather jacket and sneakers. beside him, you are dressed up in his hoodie and his sweatpants, and his denim jacket. somehow, your clothes have been disappearing little by little, leaving you with only sleepwear. does it have anything to do with the fact that he likes to see you in the pastel sets he keeps bringing over instead of actual clothes? no, of course not.

yunho did make you promise him a few things before exiting the house:

no distancing yourself from him

no talking to other people

no looking at other people

no going anywhere without asking him first

no yelling each other's names

keep the sunglasses on your face

have your phone in your hand at all times in case anything happens and one of you needs to get a hold of each other.

and you happily agree. you wouldn't do the opposite even if he didn't make you promise all those things. yunho is all you have, and without him, you'd be overwhelmed and lose yourself. the place is enormous, everything shining bright into your eyes and looking the same. no wonder people get lost there all the time. or perhaps you're just used to the dark apartment that seems to be getting smaller and smaller each day you wake up.

"what would you like to do?" he asks once he shows the tickets at the entrance and guides you inside.

"me?" you are confused. "i- i don't know."

"we have two hours to have fun. we'll do whatever your heart desires."

"really?"

the eyes you give him as you look at him all excited is the reason yunho has you all to himself. those same eyes that have looked at him from the first row at the concert, and he could not look away. you smiled so bright at him when he gave you attention, and when he saw you outside of the stadium, he knew he had very little time. and he knew he had to take you for himself. you were so sweet, and so pretty. simple things excite you, and the sight of you almost beaming is what warms yunho's heart. then, he starts to think that he might've made a mistake by bringing you here. someone could see you, and take you away from him.

no. he will not allow it. he'd rather kill you than let anyone else have you. and that's a promise he made to himself the first night he tied the pretty knots on your wrists.

"yunnie...?" your voice pulls him out of his thoughts.

"hm?" he brings his attention back to you. your eyes have lost the excited glint, and are now filled with worry. his sudden serious face must've scared you. "right. what did you want to do?"

"can i try that?" you point towards a stand.

yunho isn't surprised when he turns around to see big stuffed animals hanging from the stand, and multiple small ones arranged on the shelves against the wall behind the vendor. "do you want to play by yourself?"

"can i?"

"you may."

you roll your eyes at his correction. but before he can scold you for it, you squeeze his hand and drag him to the stand. the game seems simple enough: three balls to throw, and three pyramids of different objects to topple. yunho pays the vendor, then stands aside and lets you focus.

"go pink koala." you whisper, keeping the balls close to your chest. you don't miss yunho's chuckle from the side. "hush! i'm concentrating."

but no amount of concentrating got you the big stuffed koala. even yunho was getting irritated as time passed by. not with you, but with the vendor. "are you kidding me?"

you stop mid throw, eyes darting to the tall man in fear. you haven't done anything wrong. ...have you?

"you're telling me that those plastic cups didn't budge?" he approaches the counter.

the vendor shrugs. "are they down?"

"well, no-" yunho starts.

"oh so you aren't blind. just stupid."

oh no.

you can almost hear yunho's blood boil beside you. your hands instinctively wrap around his arm, hugging it to your body. "yunnie."

"step back." he orders.

and you do, letting go of him. to anyone looking, that would've seem mean and horrible. but you know why he told you to stay away. he doesn't want to hurt you.

"you're telling me," yunho takes a ball from your hand, "that this ball," he aims for the vendor, "didn't even budge those plastic cups?" and hits him right in the forehead.

when yunho is loud, you aren't as scared. it is when he is calm that you are terrified. and right now? he is as calm as the stuffed animals sitting on the shelves behind the man who holds his forehead. yunho crouches to the floor, enough to pick up a ball sized stone. he aims for the first pyramid of plastic cups, and throws with such strength that it manages to bring them down. he takes a second one and does the same with the glass bottles, breaking them and sending shards flying everywhere. the third rock hits the clay mug at the bottom of the pyramid, causing it to ruin the balance of the rest of them and fall to the ground with a crashing sound.

"okay, okay!" the short vendor is desperate. "take the fucking prize and leave my stand!"

"with pleasure." yunho smiles with satisfaction. you don't have time to look at him in awe because he picks you up on his back and approaches the hanging stuffed animals. "go on, angel. help yourself."

your hands know where to go, immediately grabbing the pink koala that is half your size. when yunho doesn't set you down, you look at with a raised eyebrow.

"that's all you want?"

"i can take more...?" your eyes dart between the terrified vendor and an amused yunho.

"we can take the vendor if you want."

you're not sure what is funnier:, yunho's laid back attitude or the vendor's face. in one thing you are sure: you are taking that big grey elephant.

if someone had told you yesterday that today you'd freely walk around outside with yunho by your side, both carrying a big stuffed animal that made every child passing by jealous, you'd say ha, i wish. if someone had told you that today you'd hold hands with yunho as you pass by various stands and he offers to buy you anything from it, you'd say ha, you're crazy. and if someone told you that after a rollercoaster and a haunted house yunho would take you to the ferris wheel and demand that the cabin isn't to be shared with anyone, you'd say ha, your imagination is wild.

yet here you are, sitting inside the cabin high on the ferris wheel, stuffed animals sat across from you and leaning against each other. yunho sits by your side, a cup of chocolate chip ice cream that you have picked just before getting in line in his hand. there was a no food allowed sign, but yunho would rather fight the teen boy in charge of checking tickets than see your disappointed face again when you read the sign. luckily, a single glare from yunho was enough to stop the boy mid sentence as he read it out loud.

"i can feed myself you know." you pout as he brings the plastic purple spoon to your mouth. he specifically asked for that colour.

"i know." he simply replies.

"then... may i?" you reach for the paper cup, but he pulls it away. "please?"

"why?" he brings the spoon to his mouth once it starts melting off it as to not stain your - his - clothes. you blush furiously, the thought of eating off the same spoon as him making your stomach fuzzy. "i like to pamper you. besides, dolls need maintaining."

"they also need to be played with more often." you cross your arms over your chest.

he doesn't respond, instead offering you another spoonful of ice cream. you are distracted by his piercing gaze, unable to look away. it leads to you almost missing the spoon, making most of the ice cream land on your lips rather than between them. and it's like something switches inside of him. his gaze drops from your eyes to your lips, and his hands set the cup down.

"do you have a napkin? i'm a mess-" you start licking your lips. before you can wipe the rest with the sleeve of the hoodie, yunho stops you by grabbing your wrists with one hand and looking deeply into your eyes, just before pushing you down on the seats with his other one on your chest so that you are laying with him on top. "what- what are you doing?"

"stay still." his voice is a mere whisper, a warm breath against your face. you gulp, a little louder than you intended. but he doesn't laugh. his face doesn't change. it is dead serious, with his brown eyes becoming as dark as his raven hair. his pupils are so diluted that they give the illusion of turning black. and you're not sure whether it is good or bad in this situation. "dollie..."

you lay perfectly still. the wheel has stopped, letting the visitors enjoy the view and take pictures. yunho, however, couldn't care less. not when he has you pinned down below him, hair beautifully splayed out, cheeks pink with blush, and eyes shiny and curious. and that damn ice cream on your bottom lip. he closes his eyes, then leans his forehead against yours. his nose gently brushes against yours, sending shivers down your spine and almost making you shudder. that, along with the way his one hand effortlessly holds both your wrists pressed into the leather seats has you seeing stars.

"fuck," he sighs against your lips. "fuck, what are you doing to me?"

"did i do something wrong?" the question is genuine.

"no, no." he shakes his head. "no. you're perfect. you're gorgeous. you're everything a man could ever want. you're everything i want."

he pulls away for a split second, eyes roaming your face for any signs of discomfort. when he doesn't see any, he licks his lips, then gulps.

"you're making me weak." his voice is velvet in your ears, gentle and soothing. his free hand moves the loose strands of hair out of your face, caressing your cheek in the process and continuing the path to your jaw to cup it. "and you don't even know it."

his plush lips capture your bottom one between them, tongue swiping across it to lick the ice cream off. you shudder beneath him, body arching off the seats and finding comfort against his warm chest. his hand lets your wrists go, as well as your jaw, only to find their comfort on your waist. you've never done this. yet your hands seem to move so naturally towards his hair, fingers sneaking between the soft locks and gently massaging his scalp as he nibbles on your bottom lip. a rush of heat takes over your stomach and the space between your legs. the feeling so good and new, yet so empty. you need more of him. you crave him now more than ever.

when he pulls away, it is because he needs to catch his breath, and so do you. his lips have turned a darker shade, and are so inviting to touch. and you do so, allowing yourself a moment of braveness. digits reach for his plump lips, the touch so light that yunho's lashes flutter. he can't help the desire that takes over his body and mind, pinning you further against the seats with his body and squeezing your bare waist underneath the hoodie. "you're killing me."

"how?" you didn't mean for your voice to come out so... pathetically raspy. you clear your throat. "is that bad?"

yunho chuckles in between shallow breaths. "god, you're so precious."

his lips lock with yours once again, leaving small and gentle kisses on them. until your tongue shyly peeks out to try the waters and be smooth like him. and it sends him over the edge. it makes him sit up straight and pull your body with him so that you sit on his lap, legs spread and resting on each side of him. one of his hands snakes further underneath the hoodie and follows a trail up your spine, feeling up your bare skin that burns and shivers beneath his metal rings. yunho can't keep his hands to himself anymore. he kisses you deeply, with his tongue chasing yours and seeking for a taste of you.

you taste him too, enjoying the mix of the chocolate chip ice cream and him. and he tastes better than you've ever imagined. he is intoxicating, leaving you yearning for more each time he pulls away to breathe. your body responds to him, seeking the warmth of his and aching to be held and touched. you are touch starved, and he is at fault. he might be able to redeem himself. especially when his lips take a detour from yours and continue down your jaw and to your neck. his hot tongue swipes down it, following an imaginary line and lightly grazing his teeth against your sensitive skin.

"yunnie..." you wish to call his name, but it comes out as a breathy moan. "please."

yunho pulls away, gulping once again. "what?" he breathes out.

"i- i don't know." you admit. "i need something. i need you."

"doll." he warns. "you can't say things like that."

subconsciously, your bottom lip sticks out in disappointment. you already know that he will playfully tug at it. except this time, he doesn't. he looks you with a gaze so intense that it makes you feel the smallest in the world. "sorry."

"love," the man sighs, regretting his tone. his hands cup your cheeks and bring your face close to his again, enough for him to leave a kiss on the tip of your nose. "i'd destroy you."

"what do you mean?" you should be scared. that can't mean any good, can it? just why are you squirming in his lap then, thighs aching to be pressed together and core burning up?

"oh, sweet little bunny." the realization hits him. you really are that sweet and innocent. "i just mean that..." he stops to think.

he won't be able to resist himself. and he doesn't want to hurt you. yes, he loves to see you cry. and yes, he has the twisted desire to see you split open on his cock as you cry and whine about how big he is, and how you can't fit him. to see pretty tears spilling down your cheeks as you enjoy the pain he inflicts on you, begging for more. he'd stop if you told him to, of course. he would never do anything to hurt you like that.

"you just mean that...?" you wake him up from his filthy fantasies.

his hands leave your body, only to rest on top of your hands which play with the zipper of his leather jacket. "i mean that you're not ready."

i just mean that i am not ready.

"you'll have to be a patient little doll. can you do that for me?" he tilts his head to properly look at you as your gaze is locked on his hands over yours. "angel?"

"yes."

"yes, what?"

"yes, yunnie."

"that's a good girl."

the wheel continues spinning, just when yunho gently removes you from himself and lets you sit on your own. all flushed and hair messy, you turn towards the windows, hoping to fix the situation while you pretend to look at the view and hide from his eyes. a click echoes in the cabin. then another, and another. you turn around to find yunho taking pictures of you from the opposite seats, a soft smile on his face as you try to hide into the hoodie.

"stop, i look horrible!"

"one more, come on." he approaches you, taking your jaw into his hand and making you look at him. he gets the perfect shot, your flushed face on full display, sitting so perfectly in his palm, with big eyes looking up at him. "perfect."

"my hair is a mess." you complain, hands struggling to fix the loose strands.

the dark haired man imitates your pout. "no pouting."

"i wasn't."

you jolt when his fingers tug on your bottom lip. he really loves doing that. "and no lying. you know how i feel about lying."

that you do. he hates lying more than anything. lies, white lies, being silent about things. it didn't matter. yunho hated it. your lips are too pretty to tell lies, he had told you once. truthfulness means a lot to him, and he appreciates it when it comes from you. "sorry."

seeing that he burst your bubble, he crouches in front of you, taking your hands in his and bringing them to his lips to leave a kiss on the back of each one. "i'll fix your hair when we get home. i promise."

the ride comes to an end, with yunho and you exiting last, each holding a stuffed animal. you walk beside yunho, content. you kissed him.

no, he kissed you.

yunho kissed you. it's everything you've ever desired for as long as you can remember. and it's better than you've imagined. his lips were indeed as soft as they looked, maybe even softer. his tongue a burning fire against yours, and hands molding your body like clay in his hold. you're feeling selfish, wishing for more. wishing that the wheel got stuck and left the two of you up there, continuing with the activity. as you look at his side profile - the one you can never get enough of looking at - you decide that you'll get more. you have to.

he has given you a taste, and you're already addicted.

"i need to use the restroom. sit here and wait for me." he places the stuffed elephant on a bench nearby, then the koala on the other end of it. he guides you so that you sit in between, occupying the bench and leaving no space for anyone else to sit. "i could just put you on my shelf and look at you all day long like this. stay here, got it?"

you're feeling foolish, having the whole bench to yourself. but what yunho says, you do. and you sit still, nodding your head playfully. "yes, sir!"

"i'll be right back. got your phone?"

"yes." you show it to him, secure in your hand.

"sunglasses?"

"on." you scrunch your nose, moving the sunglasses further up it.

"good. i'll be back in two minutes."

the feeling is strange. being outside, hands untied, a phone in your hand, and yunho not by your side. a light breeze caresses your hair, and the early setting autumn sun warms your face for one last time today. a once lost feeling creeps up on you, along with the fear of consequences. you've forgotten what it feels like. you've forgotten what free will is. you've forgotten what freedom is. and you haven't sought it for a very long time. and it haunts you, whispers in your ear, makes the hairs on your hands stand straight.

it lures you in.

it makes you stand up. take a step, then another. unsure at first, and a little wobbly. like you've forgotten how to walk without him. and then: you run.

you run through the crowd, around and behind the stands and tents, until your legs start to ache. you aren't used to this much cardio.

afraid that he might see you, you run into the nearest big tent. the entrance isn't the usual one, and you realize that somehow you've managed to sneak in through the exit. it takes a while for your eyes to get used to the dark. the place is poorly lit, with dark red lights illuminating the countless reflections that stare back at you. a mirror maze. out of all places you could've chosen.

you finally see your true form in the poorly lit mirror. hair a mess, face unrecognizable, wrists bruised. clothes that do not belong to you. and a pair of dark glimmering eyes that look at you from the shadows behind you.

"dollie."

how did he find you so quick? was he just testing you? testing your loyalty? did you even have a chance in running away? did you just let all that trust you built with him over the course of months or years fall into water?

but you won't let him catch you. and no amount of mirrors will stop you. you bolt for the exit, following the arrows on the floor that are upside down to you. you don't hear his footsteps behind you. perhaps it is your fear playing hallucinations on you. perhaps he is giving you a head start. or perhaps this tent was his plan too. for you to run in there, failing his test, and suffering consequences.

fear swallows you whole, causing your breathing to become shallow and fast, vision blurry, and legs and hands shaky. the faint red arrows aren't visible anymore, and you rely on putting your hands in front of you and touching your way out.

"i'm so disappointed with you, y/n."

no.

not the first name.

god, no. you can't do this again.

tears prickle your eyes, further blurring your vision. how could you have been so stupid? as if yunho is a fool. you've forgotten what he truly is. you've forgotten what you truly are. a prisoner, and its captor.

"i thought we were finally getting somewhere."

his voice is deeper than usual, echoing through the mirror maze. it makes you turn every few seconds, making sure that he isn't behind you, as if it wasn't enough to simply look at the mirrors in front of you. but your rising panic attack has your senses dull, and quickly you find yourself sobbing as you try to navigate through this torture labyrinth. every reflection is a punch to the gut, showing you your helpless frame and mocking you.

"you said you loved me."

he's close, then he isn't. you hear his footsteps, then you don't. and then, your eyes catch a glimpse of the tent's front opening up and closing. it's right there. just a few turns away. palms carelessly leave prints on the spotless mirror, and legs work hard to keeping your body up for just a little more. a few more turns. that's all you need to do.

a whiff of fresh air hits your face as you take a turn to the left, and you can smell the popcorn and cotton candy on the stands just outside the tent.

a hand is placed over your mouth, and another one around your waist, pulling you back harshly and colliding with another body. the feeling is all too familiar, repetitive even. nails desperately claw at his hands, but you know it's to no avail. you sob into his palm, tears streaming down your cheeks and continuing down his hand.

"you lied."

you are so stupid.

a light breeze caresses your cheeks. it is cold for your face, but your body seems to be warm and comfortable. even your hands. your eyelids peel open, and it takes a while to adjust to the dark. yunho's jacket covers your lap and hands, keeping you warm from the autumn breeze that enters through the rolled down window of his car.

yunho's jacket.

yunho's car.

yunho.

"no-" you gasp, jumping in the car seat.

yunho is quick to put a hand over your mouth. "hush. it's okay."

he doesn't keep it there long, removing it as fast as he touched you. he gives you time to look around and adjust to your surroundings. the first thing you notice is your hands, still untied, then, the street yunho is parked on. "what are we doing here?"

the man doesn't say anything. one of his elbows rests on his rolled down window, holding his head in his palm while his other hand plays with the lavender rope. you gulp, feeling the material on your wrists even though nothing is there. upon subconsciously rubbing your wrists, you notice that you don't wear his clothes anymore. you're wearing the clothes you thought were forever gone.

the concert outfit.

and the street? the street where you live. and your house at the end of it, the yellow trees preparing for winter and shedding their leaves.

"yunho...?"

he scoffs. "you never call me that."

you don't know what to say. you opt for silence, looking at your house in the distance and wondering why he has brought you here. then, you speak. "you kept my concert clothes."

"i kept all your things." yunho sighs, then reaches in the back seat to retrieve a backpack. the familiar scent of vanilla and whisky almost hugs you when he leans back to reach for it, his neck exposed and close to you. you ignore the tingling sensation in your stomach. "here."

he opens it for you, revealing all of your belongings, including your phone. it is smashed, and it doesn't turn on.

"i had to make sure nobody could find you." he confesses. "there's an envelope with money for the new one in the backpack."

"i don't understand..."

"you can go."

you can... go?

he is letting you go? willingly? your gulp almost echoes in the car. legs frozen, and mind a mess, you remain seated. yunho doesn't look at you. he keeps his gaze locked on a tree by the sidewalk, monitoring the swinging branches and falling leaves.

"don't make me change my mind."

it feels odd. unnatural. as if you'll wake up soon. the strange thing is that recently you haven't dreamt of running away from yunho. even now, as he is openly offering you freedom. your bottom is firmly planted on the seat.

"that's it? just like that?" you dare ask.

"yep." he still doesn't look at you.

"you don't have anything to say?" you push further.

"if you think i'm going to apologize, i am not." his eyes finally lock with yours. and it still makes your stomach flutter. "you should really go."

you are overwhelmed - no, overstimulated - by feelings and thoughts. you are angry, and sad. months or years of this odd relationship with him, being in an apartment and not stepping foot outside, locked away from the world, cut off from the social sites, completely at his mercy. eating what he offers you and wearing what he buys you. having contact with him only. trying not to go crazy when spending multiple days alone, sometimes a month too. all because you did something that he didn't like and he was punishing you for it.

and he drops you off at your house. simple as that.

hesitantly, your hand reaches for the door handle after unbuckling the seatbelt, only to find it locked. a sigh leaves yunho's lips, and within seconds, the windows are rolled up and the car starts. "dumb bunny."

"what?"

yunho steps on the gas pedal. his hands grip the wheel with such force that it turns his skin pale. the speed of the car and sudden turns make your body toss around in it. the seatbelt uselessly hangs on the side. "dumb." he takes another turn. "fucking." and joins the traffic on the highway. "bunny."

"i'm sorry!" you choke out, hands frantically holding onto anything you can reach. breathing becomes a challenge as your eyes follow the way he skillfully overtakes other cars, going way past the speed limit. "yunho! yunho, please!"

"i gave you a chance to prove your loyalty. to see if you regret using the chance and running away from me at the park. to prove that you love me, like you said it." he seethes. "and you reached for the handle."

"you offered!"

"doesn't mean you should've taken the offer!" he yells back. his voice is animalistic, deep as he almost growls the words and loud, sending shivers down your spine and coating your body in sweat. he glances at you, enough to make you start trembling. his eyes are pitch black under the lack of lights on the highway and dilated pupils from anger. "you're mine, you hear me? mine!"

"slow down," you sob, "please."

"i told you once, doll. if i can't have you..." he takes a sudden turn, exiting the highway and continuing into the forest that surrounds it. he avoids trees, driving between them and scaring the animals away, until he finally stops in front of the lake that is hidden among the greenery that is now swallowed by the dark of the night. "nobody can."

a blood curling scream leaves your lips as your eyes meet your doom. yunho drives the car into the lake at full speed.

he doesn't exit. he stays inside with you, calmly looking ahead of him as the front of the car slowly starts sinking. his seatbelt holds him in place, while you are left tilted along with the vehicle. trembling hands reach for the man. even in this moment, you reach for him.

"yunho..." your voice is a mere whisper. "yunho, please."

"nobody can have you."

"they won't." you assure him.

"nobody can have you."

"i'm all yours."

"nobody can have you."

"please don't kill me."

brown eyes finally look at you. his gaze softens at your flushed and wet face. he has control over the situation. you just don't have to know that. this is where he wants you: begging him to spare your life, making sure to let you know that he is the only one you have. that he is all you need. and that there is no escape other than death from that. he would rather drown with you than let anyone else have you.

"i want to live." you beg.

you can't help but feel comfort when his hands cup your face. ringed fingers brush your tear stained cheeks, and he can't help but lean in and press his lips to a fresh one that started its journey down your rosy skin. "you'll live. with me."

yunho leans his forehead against yours. his warm breath caresses your lips - a bittersweet refreshment of your memory. how can a man kiss so softly, but touch so roughly?

"tell me you're mine."

a sneaky glance helps you determine the current danger of the situation. you still have time to exit through the trunk. but it all depends on yunho. if he has decided to not let you go, nobody can help you with it. "i'm yours."

"good girl."

the familiar feeling of rope is back on your wrists. you'd be lying if you said that it didn't bring you comfort. the outside world seemed scary enough for you to embrace being locked in. yunho isn't the reason. he only did what he had to do to put some sense back into you.

the red rope is tied into a complex heart between your wrists, and yunho gives it a tug to tighten it and restrain you. "there. all done."

"it's pretty." you compliment. you don't ask why the rope is red. you know. you get the red one each time you do a foolish thing, so that every time you see it, you are reminded of how you let him down. "thank you, yunnie."

to your surprise, he loosens it, enough to slip it off your wrists and not undo the knot. he stands up from the bed, then gently removes the sleeping rabbit from your lap and sets it on the floor in the hallway near the cage and food, before coming back and offering you his hand to stand up. you are still soaking wet from the lake, with his hoodie hanging around your waist to warm your legs. you accept it, standing up and leaving a wet spot behind on the sheets.

"i'm sorry."

yunho only smiles, pressing a kiss to the hand he holds, and guides you to the bathroom. "don't worry about it."

you are surprised at the sight once your bare feet step on the cold bathroom tiles. the bathtub is filled with steaming water, and a few candles are lit around it. your hand is abandoned by his for a moment, just enough for him to shuffle through one of the drawers near the sink. a towel awaits for you, neatly folded on the stool near the tub. your hands untie the hoodie around your waist, letting it fall with a splat. little by little, the heavy wet pieces of clothes form a pile on the ground. by the time yunho turns around, you are left in only your underwear, body shivering from the midnight breeze that sneaks in through the tilted window. yunho stops in his tracks, eyes falling on your exposed skin that is illuminated by the soft orange light of the candles.

"uh," his gaze drops on two packages in his hands. you feel a boost of confidence storming through your veins. "i got you these bath bombs. which one would you like?"

"you pick." you shrug.

yunho looks still avoids you, turning his back towards you and approaching the tub. his hands unwrap the light pink one, dropping it in the water and helping it dissolve faster by making circular motions with his fingers on the surface. he doesn't stop until the clear liquid becomes a milky white with a pastel pink hue, with rose petals floating on the surface. "milk and rose. you'll like it."

to your disappointment, he passes by you without sparing you a glance. you can't help the hand that reaches for his, fingers intertwining and eyes that have proved themselves useful many times. he flinches, as usual. but he doesn't let go. "stay." the word comes out in a whisper.

"doll." he warns. "be good and-"

his eyes widen when you climb on your toes and rest your hands on his shoulder, lips lightly ghosting over his. you don't touch them yet. not when his hands grab your waist, and not when a sigh leaves his lips and caresses yours. only then do you finally press them against his. fingers are eager to play with his hair on his neck, and body leans against his chest to seek warmth and comfort. and the brown eyed man gives it to you, pulling you into him so that your cold skin can rest against his burning one. you can feel him, even though there is a layer of material separating you.

when your tongue peeks out to swipe over his bottom lip, yunho pulls away. you can't help the whine that leaves your lips. "you're going to be the death of me." he sighs.

"will you stay?"

"and do what?" he tilts his head playfully. "watch you enjoy your hot bath while i freeze?"

"you could join me-"

"no." he firmly says. and just like that, all you've done with the kiss has fallen into the water. his hands abandon your body, only to find your clip that he has put there himself once he helped you out of the lake. your hair is still damp, and it falls loose when he takes the butterfly clip off. it was his favourite one. "go."

"but yunnie..."

"bunny."

"you won't see me naked." you finally say.

one of the rules with yunho was that you are not to see each other naked. even now, with only your underwear on, you were pushing it. yunho made sure to let you know that he doesn't want such things with you. you only need to sit pretty for him and be obedient.

"please? you can turn around while i undress and turn back when i get into the tub."

"you still haven't answered my question. what will i do while you enjoy your little bath?" he turns around, letting you free yourself from the damp underwear. they join the pile on the floor, right next to yunho. his eyes fall on the discarded panties, and he has to close his eyes and breathe in to keep his composure. you've come a long way from being too shy to ask for a glass of water.

"you promised you'd fix my hair."

once he hears the water gently splashing, he turns around. the water is murky, hiding your bare body from his hungry eyes. while you settle down in it, yunho wastes no time in getting a hairbrush and bringing the stool to the tub so that he is behind you and the only way you can face him is by leaning your head against the rim of the tub. he places a smaller towel on it so that your neck doesn't hurt while you lean back. "clever girl."

you fail to hide the proud smirk on your face. a sigh leaves your lips when yunho's fingers sink into your hair and massage your scalp. you can't believe that those same hands almost dragged you to death just two hours ago.

"stay still." his voice is a whisper. you haven't even realized that your head was leaning into his touch, dragging your body out of the water and exposing you just above your breasts. you sink back in, covered all the way to the shoulders. "good girl."

his voice has never sounded so husky and... deep. manly. a warm sensation pools at the bottom of your stomach, and seems to start bubbling and getting hotter when your fingers brush against your thighs. it is not the first time that yunho does your hair. he loves doing it. but something about him doing it right there and then had your mind spinning. you tilt your head back to glance at him. the sight is both cute and funny: yunho dressed in all black, with a serious and focused expression as he does the familiar braid in your hair, and a lavender scrunchy on his wrist. soon enough, he pulls that scrunchy off his wrist and ties your hair with it, then keeps it in his hand to play with it.

"my pretty girl." he coos. his other hand reaches to caress your cheek, and a smile spreads on his lips, seeing how your body immediately responds to his touch. you sigh in content, nuzzling your face further into his warm hand. "do you trust me?"

"yes," you respond, lost in the way his hand trails down your neck and grazes your collarbones. "yes, i do."

yunho hums. your braid is left to hang in the air while he reaches for something. you trust him. which is why you keep your eyes closed, not bothering to see what he is doing. a gasp leaves your lips when you feel something hot on your collarbones, and your eyes shoot open.

yunho holds a candle above you, tilting it so that hot wax drips on your body. the feeling is strange. the pain is there, yet it adds to the fuel between your legs. he sets the candle back on the flat rim of the tub, then reaches for another one. "yunho-"

"you can take it." he encourages. he tilts it again, and you can't help the shuddering sigh that leaves your lips when it falls on your chest, grazing your tense nipples. "does that feel good, dollie?"

you can only nod while your fingers reach to touch your sensitive breasts. they accidentally graze the perky buds, and if you didn't bite your lip in time, yunho would know what you were doing under the murky water.

"words, precious." he tilts the candle again, more wax coating your collarbones and neck as his other hand still caresses your cheeks. "let me hear you."

"it feels good, yunho."

yunho usually hated when you used his full name. he loved your nickname. but now, as he listens to you say his whole name in almost a breathy moan, he can't help but gulp and bite his inner cheek. "one more."

fingers trail from your breasts to your core, digits eagerly pressing into the plush folds and giving you a lick of satisfaction. when yunho brings a fresh candle to your body, you can't help the impatient whimper that leaves your lips, causing him to lose it and pour it all at once on you. his pants tighten at the sight, dried wax coating your burning skin, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes rolled back. your head is still resting on the rim, tilted so that he can look at your pretty face that has a warm orange hue due to the candles.

then, he notices the water moving. and he notices your hand that has disappeared under it. yunho yanks your braid, making your eyes widen. "are you touching yourself?"

you know better than to lie. but you also know how much yunho doesn't like when you touch yourself. he gets jealous, he says. yet he won't ever touch you. your hand freezes between your legs, but no matter how slowly you try to remove it, yunho already knows. it doesn't fix the damage.

"stupid little bunny."

as if you want him to meet his end, your eyes become glossy with tears, and your bottom lip quivers. he didn't mean to make you cry. but you knew the rules. and you never broke them. sometimes you'd threaten that you would, only to rile him up and make him give you attention. you've never actually done it. now that you did, yunho is baffled. he hates that he wants to keep watching. he doesn't need to look at your body. your face is enough.

"i'm sorry." your voice trembles.

then, yunho's gaze hardens. it makes you worry for a split second, until his hands reach for your knees that peek out of the water. he separates them, slow as ever, and you swear you hear his breath hitch. "keep going."

"what?" you blink your tears away, to his disappointment.

"i want to watch." his eyes are fixed on yours. when you start rising from the water to give him a view, yunho shakes his head. "i want to watch you enjoy it."

you should've known by now that he has odd requests and ways of doing things. like insisting on feeding you. holding your hand or carrying you when going to another room. putting your hair in a clip by himself. choosing which clothes you'll wear for him. this, however, you did not experience yet.

"go on, pretty. i'll guide you." his soft lips leave a kiss on your forehead. "but you'll have to talk to me when i say something to you. got it?"

"yes, sir."

he nods as a sign to keep going. he doesn't have to do anything else, because your fingers are back on your folds. he gently tugs at your braid; a sign to stop. "patience." he growls. "cup your pretty breasts for me. don't touch your nipples just yet."

back to the start. your hands obey his command, and soon enough, your thighs find themselves squeezing together and rubbing against each other. fed up with your impatience, yunho separates your knees once again, now keeping his hands firmly planted there.

"tell me," he whispers into your ear, "if it was me touching you..." he trails.

you whimper at the thought.

"what would you want me to do next?"

your imagination runs wild. you'd want him to do everything. the things you can't even say out loud. things that would surprise him. so you settle for a simple one. "kiss me."

he chuckles. "that i can do."

he teases first, lips hovering over yours instead of touching. "please." you breathe out.

"touch yourself for me." he demands. "soft circles on your pretty buds."

when you do so, he finally presses his lips into yours. it is needy, and hot. the way his teeth graze your bottom lip, tugging it and nibbling on it while your fingers work on yourself. small whines are swallowed by his hungry kisses, muffled by his hot tongue against your inexperienced one. he guides you by slowing down and letting both of you savour every lick and nibble. if you weren't in the water, you are sure you'd be burning up.

one of his hands abandons your knee and reaches for yours that grips the bathtub rim, and he guides it back under the water and to your core. he only touches your hand, careful not to accidentally graze your thighs or your slick core. your fingers move with his help, slowly circling your clit and removing them when he feels your body become tense. he denies the sweet pleasure multiple times, enjoying the way you squirm under him and whine into his lips.

"yunnie-"

"yunho." he growls. "call me by my name."

"please, please, please." you chant. "yunho, please."

"sensitive?" he asks, knowing the answer. this time, yunho pulls away, opting to admire your face and finally focusing on you. "i'll make you feel so good, doll. make you wish for nobody but me."

"please do." pleas don't stop leaving your mouth. under other circumstances, you'd feel pathetic. but right now? you are ready to get on your knees and beg. "touch me."

"i can't." he stops.

you groan in frustration, losing the orgasm once again. "why not? why won't you ever touch me? why do you keep me if you won't do anything with me? am i ugly to you? am i that unappealing? am i not enough sexually attractive? am i too inexperienced for you? is there someone else? if there is, why am i here? what do i have to do to-"

in a single motion, yunho pulls you out of the water. it splashes everywhere, including his clothes. the look on his face changes. he is furious. you are pulled into the room, water dripping behind and leaving a trail all the way to the bed. he doesn't seem fazed by the fact that you are completely naked in front of him, and that he has seen you, and thus, broken his own rule. yunho throws your body on the bed, then reaches for the red ropes on the night stand.

"no, no-" you regret your words. "i'm sorry! i didn't mean it!"

"shut the fuck up." he growls. your wrists are back in the ropes, and he wastes no time in tightening them. he turns your body around so that you lay down on your stomach, and then pulls your braid so that your head is tilted back, just like in the bathtub. "look at me."

"yunho, please-"

"look." spank. "at." spank. "me." spank.

eyes finally lock with his. even through the blurry vision, you can see just how dark they have become. you always do this. you build something, little by little, and then you become greedy and ruin it. "i'm sorry."

"what do you want?"

silence. the pain on your scalp softens, with yunho loosening his grip. his brows are furrowed, and you know you've made him more furious than ever, just by the look on his face. "what?"

"do you want me to touch you?"

"i-" you do. it's all that's on your mind right now. he had given you a taste, and you want it all. "yes."

"after all i did to you?"

this time, you are the one whose brows are furrowed. he does know what he did to you. and he does acknowledge how bad it is. yet all of it doesn't stop your body aching for his. soul yearning for his. mind longing for his. you want yunho in every way possible. you want him to be yours, as much as you are his. only then will you be happy, and only then will you stop with the tantrums.

"yes." you confirm.

"oh, doll." he turns you over again, this time gently. finally, he looks at you. all of you. he can't help the hand that reaches to caress your wax covered collarbones and chest, traveling down your stomach and to your thighs. "if i touch you how i want now..." he trails, gaze locked on your shivering body. "you'll belong to me only."

"don't i already belong to you?" you point out.

"you don't understand." he shakes his head. "i'll make it so that your body only responds to me, even when we are out in public. i'll make it so that your mind doesn't dare to think of other men. i'll mold you so that i am your only match, mentally and physically. i'll make it so that your walls mold to the shape of my cock, and can only take me and nobody else. i'll make it so that you cry from pleasure every time i get my hands on you, and i set high standards for you, that even if you tried to cheat, you'd be disappointed and crawl back to me."

"yunho-" you breathe out, gulping at his words.

"i'll spoil you. i'll kiss you. i'll fuck you. i'll do anything you ask me to. just..." the man looks deep into your eyes before he removes a stray strand from your face, tucking it behind your ear. he places his hand under your chin, raising your head so that you can properly look at him with those glossy eyes of yours. "promise me."

"promise you what?"

"promise that you belong to me. me and nobody else."

"i promise." the words come out in a whisper.

he shakes his head, not satisfied with the answer. "say it."

"i belong to you, yunho. my body and soul is yours." finally, he is satisfied. "under one condition."

he raises one eyebrow, surprised at your request.

"you can have me as long as i have you."

"you have me."

"no, i don't. not like i want to. what if you meet somebody prettier? more interesting? i've seen your coworkers. they're all gorgeous. i can't compare to them. what if you decide you want a normal relationship and grow bored of me?"

one confession after another has yunho's gaze softening. he wishes for nothing more than to press his lips against yours and kiss you like there is no tomorrow. but he has suppressed your feelings and opinions enough. "i would never get bored of you. you think i went to such lengths for something that is temporary?"

"then why don't you ever touch me?"

"because," his finger stops the fresh tear from rolling down your cheek, "once i have you, i won't be able to keep my hands off you."

"i don't want you to keep your hands off me." you hastily admit. he opens his mouth to speak, but you stop him by capturing his lips with yours. he relaxes into it, letting you lead by simply opening his mouth and inviting your tongue in. he is already burning for you, as are you for him. you pull away for a moment. "you said multiple times that you like to pamper and take care of me. now you can properly show it to me."

"i will take good care of you." he breathes out, gracing you with a hot kiss to your lips before trailing down your jaw and neck. "i will be everything you could want or need." his teeth graze the collarbone, making your hands snake around his neck. "i will be yours as much as you are mine."

his tongue peeks out, creating a path between your breasts, down your stomach, until he reaches your pulsating core. his hands rest on your waist, keeping your body firmly planted on the wet mattress. it is odd seeing someone like yunho be mesmerized by something. seeing his eyes locked to your glistening folds and bottom lip trapped between his teeth made your stomach erupt with butterflies. he is still holding back.

suddenly, the red rope catches his attention. you are still tied up. but when he goes to undo the knot, you stop him. "i want to keep them on. so you know i truly belong to you."

"doll..." voice pure velvet, yunho looks at you from between your legs. "what do you want me to do?"

you think. and think. but really, it is that simple. "everything you wanted to do, but you held back."

"you don't know what you are asking for." he warns.

"you said you'll do anything i ask." you remind him of his words spoken just minutes ago. "i ask you to not hold back."

with a groan, yunho pulls your body to the edge of the bed, burying his head between your thighs and inhaling your scent before letting his tongue taste you. immediately, your back arches off the bed, and tied up hands reach to grab his hair. the grip he has on your thighs to keep them apart is strong. so strong that you know they'll bruise.

"fuck-" his fingers spread your folds, leaving your sensitive clit exposed to his flattened tongue. "fuck!" you cry out.

he barely slides one finger inside your tight walls, and you can already feel the orgasm rushing. he has denied it many times today already, and he decides to be merciful and close his lips around the bundle of nerves and suck until you fall apart on the bed and his tongue. he doesn't give you a break, instead pulling his mouth away from you and sliding another finger inside. "so pretty."

digits easily find the plush button on the upper wall, caressing it and stimulating it to the point of making you cry from pleasure. tears spill down your cheeks, hands grip at the sheets, and body arches from the bed while your walls clench around him. when you look down to beg him to give you more, you choke on your breath. yunho humps the edge of the bed, gaze fixed on the way your walls swallow his fingers as he chases his own release. "yunnie..."

"yes, pretty girl?"

"you're humping the mattress while i am here?"

"you look and taste so sweet. i don't want to ruin it." he admits.

a laugh escapes your lips, and is interrupted by a moan when his other hand rests on your overstimulated clit. "i want you."

and just how can yunho say no to you?

"i'll try to be gentle." vision blurry and mind hazy, you don't question how fast yunho has taken his clothes off. he is on top of you, planting a kiss on your forehead before guiding his aching cock to your entrance. you clench before he even slips inside, making it harder for his wide length to separate your walls. inch by inch, yunho gets lost in the feeling of you, and can't help but slam his hips into yours. a cry meets his ears, making him realize what he did. "oh, doll. i am so sorry."

"it's alright." you assure, a hiccup betraying you.

"you feel..." he pulls away, only to slide back in again in a gentler motion and let out a satisfied hum. "oh, you feel heavenly."

all you can think about it the bulge in the bottom of your stomach. you feel him deep, and it is as enjoyable as it is painful. he is thicker than you've imagined, or ever seen, and he splits you open so beautifully, easily gliding in and out. "i want... i want..."

"you're a drooling mess, dollie." he teases. and he isn't wrong. you are so intoxicated by his smell, his touch, and the way he gazes at you, that you can't do anything else but lie down and take what he gives you. "fuck, i'm not going to last long. that doesn't usually happen."

"i'll take that as a compliment."

yunho picks you up by your waist, angling your body off the mattress and finally snapping his hips into yours, reaching into the places you never knew you had and drawing cries and moans from you. "say my name." he growls against your neck, the sticky tip of his cock kissing your cervix with each snap.

"yunho," you gasp.

"louder." snap.

"yunho," you try, but you are weak already.

"louder." he yanks at your braid, sending delicious pain to your scalp and inching you closer to your release. "say my name. tell me who you belong to. tell me who's fucking you right."

"yunho!"

"good, good girl." he praises, and finally, lets you relax as he helps you reach the peak and spill. "i'll ruin you for anyone else."

it takes you over the edge of the peak, making your body explode with pleasure that rushes all the way to your toes, fingers and scalp. you shake under his touch, riding out the waves of pleasure while he still works on getting himself to orgasm.

it doesn't take long, seeing your state of flushed cheeks, half closed eyes that lazily gaze at him, and the knot between your wrists. he spills into you, filling you to the brim and pulling out, only to squirt the remains on your abused clit. warm seed spills out of your hole and onto the mattress. you don't protest when his fingers collect the white fluid, only to push it back in.

"fuck, you really are perfect." he kisses your cheeks, then your forehead, and finally, your lips. "i guess i'll go run you another bath."

"guess so," you laugh. you watch him run into the bathroom and get his phone from the nightstand in the process, and can't help but glance at his tushy when he walks. "and yunho?"

"hm?"

"i meant what i said. i am yours, as long as you are mine."

"yes, doll." his eyes are fixed on the screen, and he is lucky he is hidden in the bathroom. he skims over the message over and over again, wondering whether he was reading it right. if you weren't right there, he would've thrown the phone at the mirror. it was as if his reflection was taunting him. smiling at him. freaking him out.

hongjoong: i know what you did, yunho. i gave you enough time to correct your mistakes or admit to it. if you don't want the police involved, you better set the poor girl free and we'll never talk about this again. last chance.

they know what he did. and they won't be afraid to rat him out. but no matter what promises he made to you today, one thing is still clear:

if he can't have you, nobody can.

and if hongjoong tries to take you away from him, may all deities help him.

[favouritedave]

if I was working a job that required me to be a complete and utter piece of shit to the people around me I'd just kill myself but that's just me I guess

[gender-euphowrya]

can i have my window open for 5 god damn minutes without every flying fuck in the neighborhood thinking i'm looking for a roommate

[comicaurora]

So uhh. If you feel like talking about it. As someone who lives in the US, how are you being kind to yourself on this upsetting morning <3

Checked in with my loved ones first and foremost.

It's interesting. The vibe I've been getting from my circle is very different from 2016. Much less… dread and horror at a realignment of the understanding of what can and can't happen here, now, in this place and day and age. More "fuck, guys. again? whatever. enjoy your consequences, maybe you'll manage to learn something this time."

Frustration and anger is not the most positive feeling, or even the most fair one to express, but it is a protective one. It hurts a lot less than most alternatives.

And it's quite a shift. It was earthshattering back then. How could this have been allowed to happen? Why couldn't it be stopped? Why couldn't we stop it? Why couldn't I stop it? Why couldn't everyone see what this meant? Why couldn't I make them understand? Did they really not care? What did that mean about humanity as a whole? Were we so thoughtless? How could anyone be trusted?

It seems… much less earthshattering to see it happen twice. Disappointing, sure. Frustrating. But nowhere near as devastating as the first time I saw it unfold. We already knew it could happen. I've already had time to digest the implications. Now I'm just freshly disappointed.

It also feels less indicative of Crushing Truths Of Reality this time. We've seen shit get bad. We've also seen shit get better from here! We know both outcomes are possible, even inevitable. We know hoping for a better future is always worthwhile. This isn't the apocalypse. It's an unremarkably bad turn of events brought on by unremarkably self-centered well-documented human impulses. It's utterly mundane in its unpleasantness. It doesn't need to be dignified with despair.

A democratic election, no matter the outcome or the side we're on, makes us all acutely aware of how outnumbered we are by people whose worldviews and priorities are demonstrably incomprehensible to us. And the first time you get outnumbered, it's a shock. Defeat is haunting. It didn't matter how badly you wanted it; by the very function of democracy, you do not have the power to override greater numbers. (insert electoral college caveat here)

The second time through, I find myself focusing on a different facet that has dramatically reduced the amount of spiralling I'm doing. I don't expect this to work for everyone, but for me specifically, it helped to crystallize a few thoughts:

You don't have the power to control anyone else. You don't. You can't share your worldview and your revelations with them. You can't make them think or understand anything. You can lay it all out for them, but you can't make them listen, and you can't make it click. A mentor can't make their student learn a lesson; that's why teaching is so complicated and hard. An active choice must be made by the person to enable themselves to understand, and they must put the pieces together in their own mind before it makes sense to them, and the pieces must have been presented in a way that makes sense to them in the first place. Lead a horse to water, can't make them drink.

These elections highlight a disconnect in what different groups of people care about; and no matter how clearly you explain yourself or how passionately you perform, caring cannot be forced on someone. Understanding and connection cannot be forced. You cannot make anything or anyone matter to someone. They have to choose to see how it matters in order to internalize it. If they choose not to, that is not your failing. You couldn't have made them do it by just Explaining Better. They are not your responsibility. They make their own choices. You can't reach inside their head and connect the dots for them.

I'm a storyteller. I make stories and put them out into the world. I hope people get something good out of them, but I have no control over what that something is. I want people to be thoughtful and kind and compassionate and hopeful and see themselves reflected in stranges, no matter their differences. I can craft stories that I hope encourage this. But that is the extent of my ability and the extent of my responsibility. I control no-one's actions but my own, and so while I am not having the best day, I am at least content that I am doing what I can, and I am not shattering myself against impossibilities trying to control the things I can't.

Sometimes, people make decisions that I think are really bad. I can't make that not happen. All I can do is try to make decisions that will result in things I think are good. Today, that means checking in on people, and not assigning too much dramatic narrative weight to an ultimately mundane set of unremarkable bad decisions outside of my control. We'll take life as it comes and help each other out when and how we can. Everything else is out of our hands.

[foldingfittedsheets]

One of the scariest things that ever happened to me was when I was working at Red Robin. I was around eighteen and I worked as a host. I answered phones, opened doors, and seated people. The job wasn’t strenuous.

One night, the phone rang. It was fully dark outside. My shift was almost over and my mom was picking me up because I still didn’t have a car of my own. She was waiting in the parking lot when the store phone rang.

I picked up with a chirpy greeting and slammed into a horror movie when a gruff voice informed me that he could see me. He had a shotgun pointed into the building and I’d see brain matter sprayed across the walls if I didn’t do what he said. My brain froze in blind panic. I couldn’t believe this terrible thing was really happening to me.

The restaurant was all windows, visible on all sides by the parking lot except for the kitchen. He could be looking in from any direction, shotgun leveled on customers, or coworkers, or me. “Do you hear me?” he asked.

I stared in blank terror, not answering until he yelled, “Do you fucking hear me?!”

“Yes,” I whispered.

“Do you have a cellphone?”

“Yes,” I was so transfixed with fear it hadn’t occurred to me to lie.

“Give me the number.”

My mind suddenly whirred into panicky circles. I couldn’t give some crazy man my phone number, I needed to do something else but I couldn’t make up a number either because my head was pounding with adrenaline. My frightened head latched onto the only other number I had memorized.

I rattled off my mothers phone number.

“You’re going to hang up the phone, walk to the back dumpster with your cell phone in your left hand, and I’m going to call you. No one has to die tonight.”

I stood shaking with the phone pressed to my ear.

“Hang up.”

I hung up the phone. I was trembling, but I knew there was no windows in the kitchen. If I got to the kitchen I’d be safe, and that’s where he told me to go so I could make it there if I just held it together.

I made it to dry storage and met one of the assistant managers exiting. I broke down in sobs and started garbling in incoherent fear. He looked utterly flabbergasted by this, as I had the reputation of being the most level headed of the host staff.

He asked me to wait at the bar. He rushed off to try to finish what he was doing so he could deal with me. I was too scared to leave the kitchen hallway; I huddled as close the end of the bar as I could get without leaving the safety of the wall.

I was sobbing when the bartender looked over and saw me. She gasped in outrage and had me into the managers office in a blink, arms around me asking what was wrong, what was wrong.

I was finally in an enclosed room with a locking door. The gibbering in my head calmed to the point that I relayed the whole thing to the bartender. Near the end, the manager returned. He had my mother in tow.

She was furious, hearing the tail end of my death threat call. Apparently, while sitting in the parking lot she’d received the call I had been too scared to get.

The man had asked if she was me, and she was instantly combative. She didn’t tell him anything, just demanded to know, “Who’s This?” He hung up.

He’d called back once just saying my name and she’d angrily asserted, “No.” He hung up.

My mom was furious and confused and marched into the building. Part of her anger was that I’d given away her phone number. She’s a violently private person. My manager had been making sure the servers knew they didn’t have a host when my mom burst in on a mission of vengeance. He quickly escorted my rampaging mother to the back room and they were both in time to hear I’d received a death threat.

My mom rounded on my manager demanding to know why they hadn’t called the police and he pleaded that this was the first he was hearing about it. The police were called.

My mom and I waited in a booth while my nerves jangled with anxiety. No one had checked the cars outside for shooters and now I was sitting here exposed, surrounded by windows. She tried not to be mad about me giving her number given my emotional state, but she wasn’t thrilled with me.

A police office showed up an hour later. I answered her questions and my manager asked if I wanted anything. Everyone at the table looked astonished when I requested a root beer float. But by god, I wanted one.

The officer assured me that most events like this did not happen on site, that the caller wasn’t here. I didn’t believe the dowdy woman sitting across from me had even bothered to do a security sweep but I drank my float and tried to forget the darkness of the night staring in from all those windows. The clear line of sight on me from every side. The image of brain splattering against the glass divider. I drank more root beer.

I got a day off to calm down. On closing shifts after that my heart would pound when the phone rang and the bartenders all agreed to be on phone duty for me. A private investigator came in one day and I recited the whole event again. He’d been hired by the company as Red Robin’s nation wide had been targeted by the same caller.

The investigator told me he was working on it. That dozens of other businesses across the country had been called. He told me that if I’d given the caller my real number I would have been subjected to sexual assault over the phone.

I was starting to feel stupid. Everyone I told was so sure that he’d never even been present. That I’d never been in danger. The only thing I could console myself with was that many other girls had given him their number, but I hadn’t. I started forcing myself to pick the phone back up on closing shifts.

A few months later I was notified that he’d been arrested. The private investigator hired by a fast food restaurant had done what the police force hadn’t and tracked him down to a small town in the Midwest. My testimony was one of dozens used to convict him and for a while I received checks for 0.23 cents as reparations for the mental distress.

[joesjewelryinternational]

Anxiety Counselling Near Me | OCD Therapist in Woking

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[acid-ixx]

to you, my greatest passion (soft yandere! batfam x traumatized! reader oneshot)

reblogs and interactions are encouraged and appreciated.

tw: allusions to stockholm syndrome, flawed relationship (they have no concept of boundaries) and mild descriptions of injuries and torture (not by the batfam). read until the end for an author's note. happy 4k followers to me :)) uh leave comments if u like this type of analysis and want to see more. i had no direction for writing this. please don't let this flop huhu i might delete this since i don't like it

as much as i love my angst, we all need something soft at times, and moments with yan!batfam with a reader who is absolutely fucking broken from their past that the mere implication that someone could love them is enough to let them melt into whoever's chest they lay upon that night.

just, hurt/comfort. one that heals the soul in its overly possessive embrace. the same way chapped lips peck softly on your cheeks, muscled arms caress your fragile, shivering body, and legs tangle upon yours in a cacophony of warm, cozy blankets.

where as the longer time passes in the manor, the more you learn to love. to let go of the painful memories your tormenters left you. to allow past scars to heal into a mere visage of what once was streaks coated in blood. your family acts as your new abductors, yes, but how could you hold your freedom against them when it is them that comfort you from drowning through the deepest depths of your nightmares?

nightmares of the past, of the knives that break through your already gashed skin, or the ropes that burn through bruises and laceration— every time you wake up crying, with tears running down your cheeks and a pained cry; a recollection of the torture you were subject to, it is them that come running to your room not a moment after.

it's bruce's tall, domineering form that crumbles into soft, snug pillows for you. your father arms that punches criminals into prison become the shoulder you lean on. calloused fingers rub your cheeks, wiping away your tears, holding your face in his palms like you're the most fragile thing on earth— and you are. every time he looks at your dampened eyes and sniffling nose, he gets reminded of how lonely he was as a child, who lost his parent too young to the cruelty of the world, of gotham and her unyielding coldness. and when he reminisces, he begins to cage you in his arms a tad bit tighter, begins to comfort you longer and softer than he has ever done with anyone else, as if he is reassuring himself. it is with you that his vulnerability, that fear of loss becomes all too stronger. and every time you cry a bit longer, your hold on his sleeves becoming unyielding, does bruce become crueler in his pursuit of fighting crime, a lesson to himself that the people he punishes are those with hands capable enough to harm you, his precious, his pearl that glints throughout the moonlight.

whenever your father is unavailable, it's dick who runs to you, with all the intention to provide you comfort. it's him who calls you his baby bird, as he reassures you that you're no burden in his eyes every time you scream in terror as your sleep. it's him who loves to drown you in his affection, always near, always close, never far and never too much. physically, he's the most doting to a fault. tender, yet tight were his hugs. his kisses to your cheeks and your forehead always linger, as if hesitant to release itself from its rightful place. it's a testiment to how much he loves you, how he's incapable of separating himself from you. god, he loves you so much he wishes he'd just melt right into your skin, so that you actually finally realize how you're the most important thing in the world to him. you, his baby bird. if he had met you sooner, quite earlier, right after his parent's have died, then maybe he could've managed his anger better, could've learned to cope with you through the battles you both fought. it's with you that dick feel unbearably euphoric, ready to spill his love to the point where tears consume his eyes and his head laid on your chest refuses to detach itself.

jason isn't familiar with what warmth feels like, not anymore. but when he sees your hapless state, he sees a reflection of himself in that abandoned warehouse. broken, defiled, hurt. with nothing to comfort you from the cold other than the ropes that burn through your skin and the adrenaline that runs through your veins. he forgots what solace feels like, what it means, but through your shared trauma does jason learn. he learns to talk to you, with you, learns to pinpoint each and every emotion he felt at the time, what you felt inside that putrid basement. he learns to manage his grief because he doesn't want to anger himself looking at you, at just how much justice can only serve so many. the longer you talk to jason, the more he becomes softer, yet hungrier. he learns how to hold you in a way a brother learns to hold his baby sibling for the first time when conceived. he relearns the warmth he felt, like when he was finally able to be good enough to be the successor to the title of robin, when he felt you drool on his chest when you trusted him enough to sleep in his room. yet this time that feeling was accompanied with that ominous, distracting essence. one that makes jason's knuckles crack and have him prepare his guns, as he discovers that you can never truly erase the past. and even though it might take years for him to be your ideal brother, he could at least be your sole protector.

then there's tim, who never truly had the opportunity to develop that deeper sense of love he wanted to feel until he was officially adopted into the wayne family right after his parents' death. don't get him wrong, he loves his mom and dad, and so does he loves his current family— but it's obsession that drives him nonetheless. the need to prove himself, to gather information about everyone to know who they truly are; beyond that there's nothing more than shallowness, a neverending hole he can't satisfy. but with you? oh god, you. to tim, you're his everything. you devour his being whole. with you, there's always something new. the need to track every single thing about you leads him into this cycle of want and need that coagulates into desire, into drive. every time you smile, or laugh, or frown, he gains newer intel about you, one he loops into the deepest crevices of his brain at a constant, you are his constant. but staying right behind you can only do so much. and as he sits right beside you in bed, awkwardly comforting you through the ways he mirrored off from his brothers: a sloppy kiss to your knuckles, a joke cracked here and there, and wiping your eyes and nose with his sleeves; tim learns that stalking can only do so much. he learns what it feels like to be needed for emotional connection and nothing else and that only further motivates him to be perfect for you, and to be with you, his sibling, more often than to simply live right under your nose.

and damian, your baby brother, who's unsurprisingly the one who sleeps in your room, or has you sleep in his room, the most. damian tells himself he's incapable of love, of showing it or reciprocating it. but for you, he tries, and like jason, he learns. he discovers just how depraved both of you are when it comes to love. it enlightens you both and it makes damian feel a deeper sense of connection with you than anyone else. with you, he feels like a child: vulnerable, yet uncaring and free, like the true meaning of being a robin, one the soars through the skies with no grandfather or mother or league to watch your every step as their successor. all the times you cry, he silently sobs with you, holding your cheeks down to his level with scarred palms. silent, yet comforting, he'd allow his smaller form to simply become your teddy bear whilst he whispers consolations. about how strong his older sibling is, how precious you are for being comfortable with him to speak of your problems, how you're everything to damian just as he wishes to be the world for you. it makes you think you're more immature that him, it makes him grateful that he has you. even though he doesn't say it, he shows through actions just how truly important you are whenever he draws a sword towards his enemies, thinking about you and his unsaid promises.

nights where you're reminded of that solitary confinement, of the darkness that creeps into your vision and the voices that pierce through your ears. nights where you feel you've exhausted yourself of hope, where what was once warmth that hugs your heart is now that frigid, yet burning spikes that penetrates into the confidence that you'll somehow, someday, run away from that hellhole— those were nights you thought you'd never live with proper sleep. but as one or two of them holds you in their embrace whenever your nightmares consume your being, you're slowly allowing your established walls to fall apart, all for the mere implication of their love.

who would save you, if not for them? their hushed whispers of consolation, hands that wrap around your figure, and fingers that knead your cheeks provide you that deep sated comfort you always wanted. the sleeves they use to wipe away both saltine liquid and snot, to slowly silence your blubbering rambles, your inconsolable crying; it's warmer than the basement you used to be locked in as a child, with dripping faucets the only source of your water— they saved you once before, who's to say they won't save you a thousand times more?

every time you feel like crying, every time that familiar faulty tap in your eyes begins to dampen against ashen skin, it's them that asks you if you're alright. even if you grit your teeth, even if you seeth or bite or beat or punch or kick, to punish yourself, to cope through the trauma, to not feel nothing.

every time pain begins to sear through your skin, it's your grandfather, father, brothers and sisters that huddle around you and tell you 'you're safe here, in the manor, with us'.

every time they spend hours, ditching patrol nights, cooking your comfort food, reading your favorite books, watching movies for hours, ignoring your assigned sleep schedule, kissing your scarred hands gently, reverently, cuddling your form against their strong ones as a silent promise that with them, there's nothing to harm you no more— you'd feel lighter every time, a tad happier, even. slowly, but surely, melting against the confines of your adorned cage and the embrace of your loving captors.

every time they help you heal, it makes you forgive, and it makes you forget their prior kidnapping in return of building new memories with them, in a safer haven, with nobody to hurt you any longer, with nobody to bash your head against concrete walls, to punish you. you who is underserving of the circumstances bought upon you back then.

safe, a word you thought you'll never feel, a word you didn't even know existed in the crevices of your heart. but it is with them that you slowly start to associate safe with family.

the family that you've come to love and cherish in your own imperfect ways, the same way a stray dog becomes too loyal to a passerby when given bones for leftovers every day.

but you're not an animal, and you're not a pavlovian dog meant to be conditioned. no, you're their baby, their love, their treasure and their only one. the love they feed you exceeds beyond leftovers. only you can devour them wholly, the same way they cloak your world in the love that fills that neverending pit in your heart.

you're not biologically related to any of them in any way, too. yet it was all a matter of coincidence that they stumbled upon you.

but really, past is past.

then is then.

now it's just you and them.

it's you, with them.

just your family. overbearing, overprotective, overpowering.

but nothing is always over to you. their love isn't too much. how could you tell yourself it's too much? not when you were never given a basis of what is too much. how is one too much when you were never even given enough?

trust is built upon a foundation of connecting with others who can relate with you one way or another, who can see past through your flaws and mistakes— it's a bond that precedes mere acquaintanceship.

you might've met them later than everyone else, but it's you that completes them.

you're the puzzle that completes the family photographs, the goal for bruce to continue his legacy as batman and to ward off all evil, the inspiration for dick to be that aspiring hero everyone sees him to be, the reason jason begins to reform himself for your sake, the purpose for tim's endless pursuit of knowledge, the muse for damian's painting, the subject for his love he thought was no more, the ambition for steph's prolongation despite her countless of failures, the motivation for barbara to seek out all the criminals who have harmed you, the influence for cass to be stronger to protect you, the catalyst for duke to use his metahuman abilities for good, to take out those who walk in broad daylight, as if they weren't involved in your past tortures.

you're everything that they are.

their sunshine and moonlight, their companionship and loneliness, their pain and pleasure, their yin and yan.

their greatest passion.

a/n: hii guys erm. this is so sudden and also counts as a rant but yk... i feel like quitting this blog but at the same time not. it's just, i feel like writing has been more of an obligation than anything else. it doesn't help the fact that i've only been getting interaction if i were to actually produce something good. beyond that, it feels like people are expecting more of me. i get it, updates are sporadic, they appear in the blink of an eye when you least expect it, but at the same time it's just hard juggling what i want to write and what i feel like i need to write. this blog was primarily to post about my thoughts and to talk to people but lately, every time i open this app to write, i feel these plethora of thoughts and expectations telling me that if i don't do well enough then people would merely ignore whatever i post or it's just bad by standards. and yes i'm grateful for all the people supporting my writing, but at the same time i'm lead to a cycle of me losing my motivation to continue writing. ugh idk what im doing anymore help :((

tl;dr: will i stop writing? no, but at the same time i don't know. someday, i may deactivate this account out of impulse if i feel too much, or not. it depends hehe.

[r1elle]

“no use crying over spilled milk.” —except, there probably is.

a. miya x reader

atsumu knows he’s messed up.

he thinks he may need to leave all that he’s accomplished in his lifetime — all because of a simple, but dire mistake.

“this can’t be happenin..” the blonde murmurs, looking at the monstrosity infront of him.

spilled vegetable smoothie. on three dozens of cooling cookies. that you’ve excitedly made. for your friends and family. as gifts.

atsumu was definitely crying over this ‘spilled milk’.

brushing off the fear of getting divorced on Christmas Eve, atsumu decides to think of how he can remove any remaining evidence.

he thinks that perhaps he can just bake the cookies again, —but argh, he silently curses osamu for taking the culinary skills.

the blonde scrambles around, scurrying to every part of the kitchen to at least try and scrape some of the green-kelpy smoothie bits on your cookies.

the opening of the front door was the only thing that could make him drop whatever he was doing.

“atsumu!~ do you think you can help me with the groceries? i ended up going a little overboard, so i bought some hot coco and chocolate fondue as something to go with the cookies! and—“ you ramble on, however atsumu could only feel the lump forming in his throat, the sweat on his forehead, and the drying of his lips.

he’d rather experience losing a volleyball match right now.

but unfortunately, the sweating of his palms wasn’t going to help him cover his crime scene— with you finally walking up to him with a questionable tone and all.

on some lame attempt to delay your discovery by even a fraction of a second, atsumu lays a cloth on top of your pastries.

“hey, something the matt—……er…?”

you pause in between your words, familiar with atsumu’s current expression. your husband is wearing the exact face he made the last time he realized he’d accidentally mistaken your diy project as trash and threw it out. (valentines almost ended off with him sleeping on the couch.)

his face could only mean one thing, then.

however, distracting you from the overly guilty look on his face was the unusual placement of the rag that you had bought not long ago.

you look at the cookies.

he looks at you.

you look at him.

he looks at the cookies.

you lift the rag.

green, protein-y, vegetable smoothie mix laid on top of your thick, chocolate chipped cookies.

“miya.”

despite the fact that you both now share the same last name— atsumu knows you talk of his last name.

he fears that you may end up going back to your own after this night passes.

“baby please, i— i didn’t…” he rambles, but knows that no excuse can save him from his actions. he pinches the bridge of his nose. “…im…i’m sorry, hon. i’ve got no excuse. i was bein’ careless, and yer’ cookies are all damped because of my stupidity. i’m sorry. what can i do? hm?”

his build envelopes yours, and suddenly you find a man nearing his 30s senselessly murmuring sweet nothings to your ear, hoping that perhaps a single saying can be of the slightest comfort to your disappointment.

the room quiets down, the sound of the ventilation being the only source bearing noise.

the silence only makes atsumu antsy, who begins to lose hope of your anger easing down any time soon.

and so, he decides to call it a night.

“i’ll take the couch tonight, hm? how’s that? i know that it’s nothin’ much…”

a grin.

“…but if it’ll help you in even the slightest way, i’m more than willing to do it—”

a stifle of laughter.

atsumu paused, thinking that the (familiar) sound he’d just heard was some sort of hallucination that his mind had made up on the spot.

“a-anyway, i’ll see what i can do soon, and—“

finally releasing any ounce of self control you had, bursts of laughter start leaving your mouth.

“oh— oh, oh my gosh, i…” your unexplained cackling begins to alter the solemn look on your husbands face into one of confusion.

“you just looked so pathetic— it was cute! i’m sorry, i’m sorry..” you manage to hide in a snort, your husbands eyes following every movement you made.

why were you laughing? was he getting divorced?! is this some sick way to break it to him? no…no??! you’ve both been through so much together, you couldn’t possibly—… but then again… he’s probably put you through so much! argh! is this what osamu meant when he said—

atsumu’s disorganized internal thoughts then get interrupted by your pecks, something that’s been able to melt him since your last year of highschool.

“i’m not mad, no.. no,” you smile, a little giggle sneaking out. “i just couldn’t help but see how you’d react if i looked mad! i’m sorry baby, forgive me?” you coo, your head lifting up to meet his eyes as you sway his tall figure.

“but… i.. yer not mad? i completely trashed the cookies, babe. look!—

“i may or may not have accidentally mixed the salt up for sugar.” you say, a playful smile greeting your lips. “haven’t told you about the cookies i just bought from the store.”

as if all his worries had come to an end, atsumu’s shoulders slump down, a sigh coming out of him.

“ya couldn’t just tell me all that in the beginnin’?”

“and miss seeing you all so guilty and pouty? what am i, insane?”

“be happy i love ya’.”

“need i remind you of last valentines, then?”

“why don’t we get set up? also, yer’ lookin’ beautiful in that dress. anyone told you that yet?”

“okay, you can stop that now, miya.”

“yer’ a miya too, ya know.” he grins.

you roll your eyes, however a smile creeps it’s way in, betraying your ‘dismay’ towards the man.

“you’re right. i suppose i am.”

this was from the request of an oomf !

can we just pretend this was posted before Christmas thank u very muchiez

i fear that the pathetic husband atsumu will never become a trope i’ll get tired of

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays everyone !

ps. if you start seeing that i lowkey started to get confused as to how to write that lil accent he has, no u didn’t.

[dawneternal]

now my head's splitting at the seams

✴︎ in the labyrinth of my pain, would you find me?

✴︎ Azriel x Valkyrie reader, platonic Cassian x reader

✴︎ Summary: you miss a few days of training, down with a bad migraine. It turns out Cassian has a few misconceptions about your condition and, possibly, about pain itself.

✴︎ Warnings: mentions of nausea and vomiting (no descriptions), pain, toxic positivity and ableism, internalized ableism, Cassian's a jerk in the first half. Also I'm so sorry for the tense changing back and forth 💀 I would definitely not call this one a masterpiece

✴︎ Word Count: 3.4k

AO3 Link / Writing Masterlist

✴︎ Notes: somehow writing out my feelings about having a migraine turned into something pretentious about pain and ableism. I think a lot about John Green's "pain is the opposite of language" and how much that's changed my perception of pain

Also listen I love Cassian and I have no problems with him but I had to pick someone to take my feelings out on I'm sorry 💛 also just want to acknowledge that everyone experiences migraines differently and it's not a topic I'm an expert on so I'm sorry if you don't feel well represented by this.

Tbh I could write several essays about the way pain and disability are handled in the acotar books but that's for another time.

Letting out a frustrated groan, you squeeze your eyes shut tighter and twist your knuckle into the pressure point at the base of your palm, chasing the momentary relief it'll give you from your nausea. It works for a minute, and you're considering making your way to the bathroom before another wave hits you when your bedroom door flies open.

"You're late," Cassian's voice bellows through the room and he doesn't see you wince. He strides into the room, footsteps booming across the floorboards, and he's left the door open behind him, letting a traitorous amount of light into your dark room. What good were black out curtains if your darkness was going to be invaded like this anyways?

"Oh my gods you've got to talk quieter," You curl tighter around yourself, head clutched in your hands.

"So you're hungover?" He stops near your bed, arms crossed as he towers over you.

"No, I have a migraine."

"Isn't that the same thing?"

You squint up at him, scowling, swallowing every bad word threatening to spill off your tongue. Though maybe he deserves it for coming into your room without asking.

"Please leave," You say quietly, all the venom you could usually imbue into your voice completely swallowed by your current condition.

"You've missed three days of training." He says by way of answering, definitely not following your request to lower his volume. "You can't coddle yourself like this."

His words punch the air from your lungs. Coddle? Something terrible is rising in your gut, along with the desperate thought that you can't deal with this right now.

"I'm not - this isn't - I don't think you understand how much it hurts." You scramble for words, cheeks heated from pain and anger.

"You've gotta push through it," He says, no hint of sympathy.

"Cassian please."

"I'm not leaving until you agree to come with me."

You don't have time to respond before you're running to the bathroom and throwing up whatever you'd managed to keep down last night, head throbbing with every movement.

Breathing hard, you lean back from the toilet and clutch your head in your hands. The silence rings in your ears and you aren't sure if Cassian is still there or if he finally took mercy on you and left, until his voice makes it's way to you, with just a hint of remorse in it -

"I'd better see you up there."

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Cassian did not see you at training that morning, and you're assuming you've bruised his ego because the next day he doubles down.

The thing is, Rhysand knew of your condition. The other priestesses knew. It's only Cassian being out of the loop and if he understood what a migraine felt like, you're certain he wouldn't be dragging you up there. You were used to dealing with people who didn't understand, had worked hard to learn how to give yourself kindness no matter what other people said. But it's like he knew exactly what things to say, what buttons to press to undo all of that progress.

It was like he'd pulled off your armor, piece by piece, leaving you cold and exposed. Going back to that world where weakness was your given name and it hurt worse than stepping into the ring and fighting the pain. If you could prove him wrong, just make it through a couple of hours, you could return to your sanctuary of darkness. And at least then, you wouldn't hate yourself on top of everything else.

So you followed him up to the training ring, struggling to open your eyes all the way in the morning light, hunched over to make the pain down your shoulders and neck just a bit more bearable. You sway on your feet, but Cassian either doesn't notice or doesn't care.

When he moves aside, revealing your small, huddled frame trailing beside him, Gwyn gasps.

"Cassian!" She cries, her tone scathing, and the hint of smug triumph slips from his face. It disappears completely as Gwyn rushes to your side, folding you into her arms to block your eyes from the light. You groan into her shoulder and go limp in her arms, grateful for the support.

Azriel stands to the side, watching with narrowed eyes. His arms are crossed over his chest like Cassian's, but there is no determination or judgment in his posture or expression. There's angry, crackling flames as he watches the redheaded Valkyrie thread her fingers through your hair and murmur soft comfort.

"She missed training all this week," Cassian says, but he's not barking any more. He's feeling a little bit small underneath the glares that pin him where he stands.

"Yeah, we know," Gwyn says, and it's the closest she's gotten to snapping at him in the whole time they've known each other. She turns to you and her eyes soften. "Let's get you back to bed, love."

"No," You murmur, guilt and shame bringing your resolve to the surface once more. You gently push her away to stand on your own, raising your squinted eyes to meet Cassian's. "I can do it. I'll be fine."

She watches you take shaky steps to the nearest mat and begin stretching, body obviously stiff from a few days in bed. You're conscious of all the eyes on you, far too sympathetic for your liking. This is exactly what you hated.

"Are we starting or not?" You let out a stiff laugh, too aware that your words are lightly slurred. That is absolutely not helping the hangover accusations.

The other priestesses shuffle to get into place, bumping into each other as they move to find their positions. There was still a horrible silence, crackling with fierce anger, all rippling in Cassian's direction. He halfheartedly called a few orders, visibly uncomfortable with the energy in the ring.

And you tried. You tried hard. To move your body through the stretches like normal. But your muscles protested every move, threatening to lock back up, sending stabs of pain through your skull. It didn't take long for the nausea to take over, forcing you to the edge of the ring, doubled over and dry heaving.

"This is ridiculous," Gwyn scoffs before she's at your side again. "You're going to back to bed."

"I will not be weak," You growl at her, panting as you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, "I am not lazy."

Gwyn's head snaps around to find Cassian, mouth dropped open in fury as she silently dares him to confirm that he may have suggested weakness to you.

"You're not and you know it," She says softly, hauling you up and leading you away from the training ring. “Don't do that to yourself.”

Cassian is feeling like he's surrounded by wolves, all the glares that are being sent his way. He understands by now that he's messed up, and in front of a group that may not be easily inclined to forgive him. He's sure every single one of them has experienced the disbelief that he foolishly shoved your way. For their pain, or for anything else.

He thought you would snap back to your normal self after a bit of warming up, shake off your symptoms with a bit of movement and sunshine. You were strong enough to, if you wanted to. He'd seen it before. He thought you just didn't want to.

A small, firm hand lands on his arm and he finds himself looking down at Nesta. There's sympathy in her expression, but her eyes twinkle with the threat of a nasty bite if he dares to say anything stupid.

"She gets them after particularly bad flashbacks," Nesta says, "Or sometimes they're just random. Madja says there's no fix for the pain but darkness and sleep."

Cassian's stomach twists so terribly he thinks he might puke, too. In the midst of attempting to instill resilience, he's understanding that he knows nothing of this kind of pain. This is something different, something that cannot be conquered in the same way as emotional pain, as every day aches and injuries. You are a soldier in a battle he has no strategy for.

He may understand the concept of emotional resilience, of getting back up and into the training ring when you don't want to. But this is different.

The final blow, the thing that makes him want to cower and hide, is meeting his brother's eyes. Seeing the fire there transports him back in time, sending flashes of a smaller Azriel pushing himself too hard, determined to show the world that he'd never be less because of the damage to his hands. Fighting against words far too similar to the ones his own brother had spouted to you this morning, desperate to become strong enough that no one would ever doubt his pain and live.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

It was not a surprise that Cassian found himself in Rhysand's office later, confessing how thoroughly he'd fucked up, desperate for a little direction in how to fix this mess.

"It has to be their choice," Rhysand is saying, eyes meeting Cassian's over his glass.

Cassian's mouth opens and closes as he tries to conjure a response. He knows that. Of course he knows that. But apparently, his brain had not wrapped around how far that concept might go.

Cassian let out a grunt as he sat back in his chair, arms crossed. Rhysand knew he didn't have to push any further, he recognized the conflict in his brother's eyes. So he sat with him, quiet, while he processed.

"Do you want to know what it feels like?" He broke the since after a while, as the idea came to him.

"What?" Cassian blinked, startled from his thoughts.

"A migraine," Rhys explained, "Do you want to know what it feels like?"

Cassian frowned, studying his brother's expression for anything resembling amusement, but there was none. So he nods.

Not even a full second later, his skull is attacked with throbbing pain, deep in the base of his neck. He hadn't even noticed the fae lights before, but now they overwhelm him, causing a dull pain to surface behind his eyes. Nausea curled up his throat, threatening ruthlessly.

"Oh gods," He leaned forward and clutched his head in his hands, finding that his limbs trembled under his own weight.

"Do you push yourself when you feel like this?" Rhysand asked softly, not taunting. Prompting.

"I don't really ever feel like this," Cassian grumbled out.

"Hm," Rhysand mused, his brows drawing together. He'd experienced episodes like these often, under the mountain. He knew that Azriel struggled with them through his teenage years, like his brain still struggled to process his senses outside of a dark cell.

Deep in thought, he only remembered to ease up on Cassian's mind when his brother whimpered.

"Some say pain cannot truly be described with language," Rhys says, gaze somewhere else as Cassian gulps down air. "And that your pain is one of the few things that is truly yours, that you can never share. Even if you manage to describe it, it will never be felt by anyone else."

"I thought she was just hungover," Cassian says, but he's not defending himself. Rhysand knows.

"What if she was, though?" He tilts his head to the side, watching his brother carefully.

And that is the thing that had begun to unfurl within Cassian as he stood surrounded by the priestesses he'd wronged. He understood that having true control of your body meant that dictating how pain is handled had to be yours, too. He understood that pushing someone to deal with pain in his own way was a violation in and of itself. He had stepped into the world that you had carefully balanced and re-built around your condition and dared to tell you that you may have done it wrong.

"Will she get better?" He asks, thinking of the agony he'd just experienced for a few short minutes. The same one that you'd been experiencing for three days, now.

"It's hard to say," Rhysand shrugs, "Madja says she will likely experience these off and on for the rest of her life, but she may have some periods of remission."

He tilts his head at his brother again, "You know that a majority of the priestesses have an invisible disability of similar kinds, right? They won't get better. They will be in pain every day until they die."

Rhysand sighs, thinking of the hundreds - possibly thousands - of tins of salve that Azriel has gone through, numbing the pain of his nerve damage. Trembling hands hidden in black gloves, tucked into his body and away from the world. And that is the reason he's bothering telling Cassian of any of this. Otherwise, he might let him figure it out on his own.

"But the healers-" Cassian begins.

"Are there to help them cope with their emotional pain and trauma," Rhysand nods, "But some of them, a lot of them, were disabled as a result of what they went through and will never get better. Like Clotho.”

Oh.

It clicks in Cassian's mind, then. Who else Rhys meant. Who else Cassian had insulted. He had never barged into Azriel's room, insisting that he still train even when he could not flex his fingers without wincing, without trembling too hard to hold a glass of water. But he'd done it to you, in front of him. And that pinned his disbelief on Azriel all the same.

Azriel's pain, your pain, were enemies that neither of you could defeat. And here he was, shoving a sword into your hands, and insisting that you try.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

A soft knock sounds against your door, so quiet you almost don't hear it. You stare at it, wondering if you should pretend that you didn't. But then the knob turns slowly and it opens just a crack, and a soft voice is saying into the darkness,

"Hey, it's Azriel. Can I come in?"

Your breath catches in your throat, and you watch his shadows dancing back and forth through the thin wedge of light he's letting in.

"Sure," You say, moving quickly to smooth your rumpled clothes and tangled hair before he steps in. You're not exactly sure what he thinks of you after this morning.

He steps inside and closes the door behind him. His eyes seem to glow in the darkness, an amber-honey color, and somehow you can still see his shadows, like they're even darker than your room with no light.

"I just wanted to check on you," He says, crouching down beside your bed so you don't have to sit up.

"I'm okay," You say, still getting over the surprise of the Shadowsinger in your space. It's true, though, you suppose. You're used to all of your other symptoms by now, and your heart hurts worse than your head.

"He's an idiot sometimes," Azriel says, basically spits. A smile begins to spread on your face so he continues, “Like, sometimes he's just an asshole, straight up. But this time, believe it or not, I think he actually meant well and was just an idiot.”

“I know,” You give him a sad smile and all of the anger melts from his face.

“I think he went to buy flowers if that makes you feel any better,” He sighs. You know he's just as mad at Cassian as you are, maybe even more mad. But he still can't help vouching for him. It's definitely going to take more than flowers to forgive him, but it's a good start. You also appreciate that Azriel has bothered to warn you ahead of time, in case you wanted to avoid Cassian's apology.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, so quietly. And you wonder who else has earned this tenderness from him.

“It's not too bad right now,” you say truthfully, though you know that sitting up or going outside might be pushing your luck.

“Still hurts?”

“Yeah. Still hurts.”

He nods. “I can try something that helps me, sometimes.”

You search his eyes for a moment, then nod.

“Can I touch your face?” He asks, almost a whisper.

Your heart leaps into your throat and you fight to keep your face neutral as you nod again, no idea what he's planning to do with you.

Slowly, leaving enough time for you to stop him, he reaches out. He's not wearing gloves, like usual, and in the dark you can just barely make out the uneven silhouette of his dimpled, scarred hands.

His fingers land gently on your forehead, and he presses his thumb between your brows. Gently at first, and then harder, circling a tender point under your skin. It makes the pain in your head sharper, and you let out a hiss.

“I know,” He says, “Bear with me a minute.”

You close your eyes, biting back a whimper, but after a moment the pain begins to ease. He keeps going for a few minutes and you feel your whole body relax, pain free for the first time in days.

You don't realize how much you've leaned into his touch until he gently pulls away and you find your head falling forward with him.

“What is that?” You open your eyes and blink at him.

“A pressure point,” He grins, and it almost looks like he's blushing.

“That's magical,” you say. You hesitate for a moment, and then, “you can sit on the bed if you want.”

Azriel smiles and straightens, and you move your pillow to the side to make space for him. He slides off his boots and sits on the bed next to you, legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles. You place your pillow next to his lap and settle back into it.

“Thank you,” You say, your body feeling lighter than it has in days.

“Of course,” he says.

A silence settles, but it's not uncomfortable. There's something in it that you understand. He's just keeping you company. Here to sit with you in your pain.

It's easy to relax in his presence, between his calm aura and the pain relief he's offered you. And you find yourself spilling the question that's been circling though your mind since this morning.

“What if I can't fight, someday? What if I can't be a Valkyrie anymore?”

Azriel stills beside you. It's a long moment before he says anything. You're tense beside him, and it makes you flinch when he brings his hand so gently to rest on your head. Not moving, just resting.

“First,” He says, in the same soft voice, “You'll always be a Valkyrie. Because you cut the ribbon. Because you sisters will never let you go. And because I know for a fact that the Valkyries did not strip their warriors of their title if they became disabled by an illness or an injury.”

“Really?” You breathe.

“Mhm,” He hums in affirmation. You forget sometimes that he knows the Valkyries from more than history books.

“And second,” His voice drops lower, like he's sharing a secret with you. His hand moves, fingers slipping gingerly through your hair. And it makes you realize that he came here with his hands uncovered as an offer of solidarity. Combing his scarred fingers through your hair, he is offering you vulnerability, like recompense for what you bared this morning. A trade. A truce.

“If you cannot fight,” He continues, “Then you will show the world that a formidable woman can be made from more than fighting skills. You will still be - will always be - something incredible.”

Tears prickle at your eyes, form a lump in your throat. You reach up to grasp his hand, the only thank you that you can manage in the moment, and he lets you.

There's another silence, as he holds your hand in the dark.

“Who helps you?” You ask, turning to look up at him. He watches your eyebrows knit together, so serious, and he swallows a smile.

“What do you mean?” He says.

You bring one finger up to tap the space between his own eyebrows.

“With your pain? Who helps you like you helped me?”

“Um,” He shrugs, “Sometimes Rhys if he has time. Otherwise, no one.”

That's what you thought, but it still makes your heart twist in your chest. It takes a deep breath before you have the courage to say the next words out loud.

“You should tell me next time you're in pain. And I'll help.”

Azriel stares back at you, something bewildered in his eyes. Because he sees your suggestion for what it is. The same thing he offered you. A trade. A truce.

A beginning.

“Yes,” He whispers into the dark, and his hand closes around yours. “I will.”

[little-diable]

Mine to Claim - Dean Winchester (smut)

While I'm still wondering if I should write for James Beaufort, I decided to run with the enemies to lovers theme for Dean. I know y'all love jealous Dean as much as I do. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: The reader wants Sam to have a nice birthday, but all she can focus on is Dean, the man she had always sworn to hate, the man who gets all possessive as soon as somebody else finds her interesting enough to chat her up.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, thigh riding, full on jealous Dean, Dean's a bit of a dick in the beginning, possessiveness, fluffy end

Pairing: Dean Winchester x fem!reader (about 4k words)

“A party? And who should we invite, huh?” Dean’s voice filled the library. He had his feet placed on the table, arms crossed in front of his chest while nursing his second beer of the night. 

(Y/n) had her eyes focused on the laptop, typing away as she tried to pierce ideas together to celebrate Sam’s birthday. But while she was set on putting something special together, trying to trap the man she couldn’t stand into helping her, Dean could only give room to annoying comments. 

“How about some werewolves, vampires maybe or a wendigo to make this exciting!” Sarcasm dripped from Dean’s words, leaving her groaning as she finally looked at the handsome Winchester brother. The two of them had never been fans of one another, but while (y/n) generally tried to keep her distance, Dean was set on annoying her at any given chance. She had lost count of the dates he had ruined for her, the friendships she had tried to build but had been torn down by him, no matter what she tried to do, Dean was always right there to cross her plans.

“Have you always been such an asshole or have you just not outgrown your teenager phase yet?” She shifted her weight onto her forearms while staring at Dean as if he was the most fascinating thing she had ever seen. His eyes had a twinkle to them as he mimicked her movements, taking his feet off the table to lean further towards her. 

“Don’t be like that, sweetheart, we both know you enjoy our dynamic more than you let others believe. You have never been good at hiding your crush on me.” The angry scoff clawing through (y/n) forced a chuckle out of Dean, who looked at her as if he had just goaled a win. Whenever he managed to rile her up, to get her angrier by the second, his smirk would grow as if he was proud of himself for getting under her skin like that. 

“Fuck you, Dean!” She rose to her feet, unexpectedly to Dean who now studied her with confusion laced in his gaze. “I’ll just take Sam out for dinner, anywhere without you near will be good enough.” 

(Y/n) tried to walk past him with angry tears welling up in her eyes, but she didn’t manage to get far, forced to a halt by the hand clamping down on her wrist. Dean stared up at her with an unreadable expression, shooting shudders down her spine while she tried to rip herself free. Something inside of her told her that he was close to apologising, urged on by the guilt he may feel, but the moment passed within seconds, forcing his smirk back to his lips.

“Dream of me tonight, sweetheart. But first, tell me, do you still sleep in my shirt?” The angry huff clawing through her made Dean chuckle, watching her rip herself free before storming out of the room. Her heart was aching in her chest, pounding against her ribs while her feet carried her towards her room. 

With her laptop tossed onto her bed, (y/n) allowed her tears to fall, urged on by her anger and confusion, torn between the way she had always detested Dean and the silent longing for him and his closeness. God, she hated him, hated him more than words could ever express, and yet a small, fucked up part of her wanted him and every part of him. 

It was time to finally get over Dean Winchester and the confusing emotions he pushed through her. 

……

“Thank you for this, (y/n). This is by far the best birthday I ever had.” Sam squeezed her shoulder as she looked up at him with a proud grin. She shot Sam another smile before she let her gaze wander, finding Dean’s frame. Even though she had tried to lure Sam away from his brother, knowing that the night wouldn’t end well if she and Dean would have to spend it together, Sam had begged her to take his brother with them, ending up at this very bar.

“Let me get you another beer, birthday boy. I’ll be back in a second.” (Y/n) rose to her feet with an unwavering smile, pushing past a few people to reach the bar. Music rang in her ears, not loud enough to leave her body buzzing, yet just enough to distract her from her wandering thoughts. 

“Hey,” an unfamiliar voice forced her attention away from the bartender, waiting for her to make her way towards (y/n). A guy was standing close to her, he was a bit taller than her, a handsome face she smiled at. “Is that your boyfriend?”

He tilted his head towards Sam, leaving her chuckling as (y/n) shook her head no. A relieved smile managed to find its way to the guy’s lips, he was visibly relaxing while taking a step closer. Even though her body begged her to chase the distance, her mind urged her to stay right where she was, reminding her of her promise to finally find a distraction from Dean Winchester.

“Are you from around here?” She kept her voice quiet as she studied the guy, the plaid shirt he wore and those dark jeans that had a similar touch to the ones Dean currently wore. For a second, she let her eyes wander, not paying attention to the words the guy spoke, but Dean was nowhere to be found, disappearing from her sight. 

“It’s my friend’s birthday today, so I’ll have to get back to him.” (Y/n) mumbled while she shot the guy another smile. She turned towards the bartender to speak her order before the guy could gain her attention again, with his phone in his hand.

“Give me your number, maybe I can take you out for dinner or something?” The soft chuckle leaving her made him smile, watching her type her number into his phone before reaching for the two bottles of beer. She took a step away from him, with her gaze still focused on him, but the second she turned away, (y/n) stumbled into a broad chest, having to tighten her grasp on the bottles before she could drop them. 

Wide eyes found a pair of familiar green ones, getting lost in the darkening pupils for a moment or two. Dean’s jaw muscles were ticking in anger as his gaze flickered between (y/n) and the guy she had been talking to. It took her a moment to rip herself out of her frozen state before she tried to push past Dean, though without any luck. 

“What did he want from you?” Dean’s voice had something to it she couldn’t pinpoint, something that left her insides churning; something that left her straightening her spine. Her eyes wandered over his angry features, allowing her to take in his handsome features. If he weren’t such an asshole to her, she would have instantly fallen hard for him, begging the man for a chance to love him like he deserved to be loved. 

“That’s nothing of your concern, Dean. Let me go.” But Dean didn’t give in, he tightened his grip on her arm to pull her even closer. 

“Oh, but we both know that it is, sweetheart.” She couldn’t find a reply, the words were stolen right from her as his lips graced her warm cheek with his eyes set on the guy who was still watching the two. And with another squeeze of her arm, he finally let go of her, only to gently push her into Sam’s direction. 

……

She woke with a groan, forcing her eyes open to take in the darkness surrounding her. Slowly, (y/n) rolled onto her side to reach for her phone, reading the time. It was in the middle of the night, only a few hours after they had found their way back home from the bar. 

Since that moment with Dean, (y/n) had been deep in thought, not understanding the way he had behaved at the bar. She crawled out of her bed with a sigh, set on grabbing a new glass of water to clear her thoughts. Still surrounded by darkness, she made her way to the kitchen, carried by tired limbs that begged her to make it back to bed. 

“I knew you were still stealing my shirts.” Dean’s voice left her jumping, ripping a squeal out of her as she turned towards him. He was leaning against the table, arms crossed in front of his chest, eyes set on her frame. Heat rose to her features as she remembered that she was once again wearing a shirt of his, and nothing more. 

“You jerk, why do you always have to scare me like that?” He walked closer to her, allowing her to find his pupils. His chest was almost pushed against hers while he wordlessly stared down at (y/n). She was close to speaking up again, set on throwing another insult his way to get herself out of this situation before she could say or do something stupid. But the second his hands found her waist to heave her onto the cold kitchen island, she forgot every word she had planned to speak. 

“Did that guy call you?” His voice was raspy, making goosebumps appear on her exposed skin. (Y/n) could barely focus on his voice, distracted by the feeling of Dean lingering between her spread thighs and the way he grasped her hips with his big hands. 

“Maybe he did, so what?” His tongue kissed his teeth while he pondered over her words, staring at (y/n) with something she’d dream of for a while. It felt like heaven and hell were clashing, forcing them to balance a strong energy neither had felt before. It drew them closer with every passing second, growing between them while both could only endure its strength. 

“You’ll lose his number.” It was a simple command, words that drew a soft laugh out of (y/n) while she shook her head no. A laugh that lost its strength as Dean’s big hand found her throat, forcing her to quiet down. Her pupils grew wider at the touch, drawing a shaky breath out of (y/n). “He’ll never have you.”

“And you will?” She could only whisper her question, words that left Dean smirking as he dipped his head down. He was close to kissing her, lips ghosting over hers while her heart picked up its beat. 

“We both know that I already have you.” With one last squeeze of her throat, Dean pressed a kiss to the corner of her lips before letting go of her. (Y/n) was at loss for words, could only watch him take another step away from her with his teeth buried in his grinning lower lip, front still turned in her direction. 

(Y/n) needed a handful of seconds before she snapped into motion, jumping off the metallic kitchen island to haul herself into his space, lips finding his with her arms wrapped around his neck. Dean instantly replied to the kiss with one hand placed on her waist and the other cupping the back of her head to keep her close. Their tongues met to deepen the kiss, leaving both groaning at the new sensation. 

“I belong to nobody and if you keep on being such an asshole to me, you’ll be the last person to ever have me.” She mumbled the words against his lips before pushing him away, leaving Dean breathless while she walked back to her room with a smile glued to her slightly swollen lips. 

……

Music filled her room, cozying (y/n) along while she was reading. It had been hours since her kiss with Dean, a memory that left her buzzing with nerves whenever her mind took her back to those minutes. She was proud of herself for finding the confidence at that time, for pushing him away after a kiss she longed to experience again. 

His lips had felt all too soft, a perfect kiss she had always read of in books but had never experienced herself–until that very moment. He had tasted of beer and home, a strange sensation she hadn’t been able to shake so far. 

A soft knock forced her out of her thoughts, eyes flickering towards her door to watch Dean step into the room. They hadn’t shared a single word since that kiss, while she had hid herself in her room, Dean had given her enough space to sort through the chaos both were stuck in now. 

He closed the door behind himself before walking towards her bed. (Y/n) could only watch as he plopped down on her bed, gently taking her book to place it on her nightstand before pulling her into his chest. She could hear his heart racing as both were laying there in silence. 

“What are you doing, Dean?” (Y/n) shifted on his chest, eyes finding his while he kept his hand placed on her side. He stayed quiet, seemingly deep in thought with his eyes set on the ceiling rather than her face. 

(Y/n) barely allowed herself to properly look at Dean, to take in the beauty of the man who made her feel the most confusing emotions imaginable. She wanted to count his freckles, every single one of them reminding her of a galaxy million of lightyears away, each telling its own story. She wanted to get lost in the green eyes reminding her of a forest that had seen the most gruesome things and yet still managed to offer a home to those needing shelter. She wanted to kiss those plush lips again that made her feel more alive than she had ever felt before.

“I,” he cleared his throat as if he was trying to rip himself out of a trap, forcing his eyes back down to meet hers. “Somewhere along the way, since meeting you, I’ve realised that it’s much easier to rile you up, to annoy you and have you as an enemy rather than admit my feelings to you but also to myself. From the first day we met you at that diner, I knew I had found my match, the one who finally belongs to me. But fuck, my anxiety got the best of me, and I began spiralling. It was fucking immature of me, but I couldn’t stop, not as long as I couldn’t accept that I’ve loved you for years.” 

Tears welled up in her eyes as she pondered over his confession, the words that cut deeper than she liked to admit. Dean’s thumb wiped away her falling tear while tightening his grip on her. Both were choked up, struggling to keep on speaking as silence engulfed them once again. The seconds kept fading by, moments she desperately needed to sort through her confusion, the words she wanted to speak but was unsure of. 

“And you’re ready to accept it now?” (Y/n)’s voice trembled, buzzing through her body like lightning set on burning holes into her skin. Dean’s hand stroked up her spine until he found the back of her neck, pressing (y/n) close to kiss her softly. It took her a few seconds to let her lips move, tongues meeting much slower than they had for their first kiss.

“If you’ll let me love you like you deserve to be loved, I am ready to accept it and fight for it.” A part of her knew that she should leave his side, kick him out of the room, and curse him for thinking she’d ever give him a chance, but the other, bigger part, begged her to give in, to finally grasp this chance she had silently hoped for whenever her anger turned into desperation and longings. 

“Kiss me, Dean.” He didn’t need to be told twice. Dean dipped his head down to kiss her with one hand finding her cheek. It wasn’t a soft kiss, fuelled by unspoken emotions and longings, and yet both took their time to properly explore their newfound territory. Carefully, Dean pushed her off his chest to hover over her with one leg finding its way between her thighs.

They didn’t break the kiss as he softly pressed his thigh against her heat, drawing a moan from (y/n) at the sudden contact. Heat buzzed through her body, down her spine and straight to her pulsing bundle. (Y/n) tried to push herself closer, moving with just enough strength to moan once again. 

“Can you make yourself cum on my thigh, sweetheart? Show me how much you need to be touched.” Her eyes found his stormy ones, getting lost in the rich colour for a second before a shaky exhale left her. (Y/n) pulled Dean down for another kiss while she moved against his thigh again, supported by him as he met her movements with more urgency.

Her body was burning, shaking from the excitement she couldn’t let go of; the anticipation pushing her towards the edge she’d fall from at least two times that day. Dean kissed his way down her throat, sucking on the spots that made her arch her back off the mattress. Goosebumps covered her body while she lost grip on reality, allowing her body to move without her mind’s guidance while searching for that high she could already feel creeping closer. 

“Such a good girl, look at how perfect you look, fuck, I can’t wait to see you all done with my cock buried inside of you.” He rasped the words against her ear, forcing (y/n)’s hands to find his forearms to hold on, clawing her fingernails into his skin. She was close already, about to let go with his name rolling off her tongue as the fabric offered just enough friction to make her gasp. 

His name rolled off her tongue as she came, eyes squeezed shut, back arched, toes curled. Dean could only stare down at her, mesmerised by the sight he’d take to the grave, forever remembering the first time he made her cum. With his lips meeting hers again, he managed to rip her out of her hazy daze, forcing her hands to move as they tugged on his shirt. 

They parted for a moment, allowing Dean to get rid of his shirt and his trousers, while she mimicked his movements, undressing herself with trembling fingers. Her mind was racing, leaving her buzzing as it slowly began to dawn on her what was about to happen, that she was about to let the man she had hated for years fuck her. 

“Tell me you want this as much as I do. I won’t touch you otherwise.” Dean’s murmured words made a smile widen on her lips. Even though she struggled to reply, eyes and mind fully focused on his naked body, the muscles she wanted to kiss, the cock that grew harder with every passing second, she parted her swollen lips. 

“I want you, Dean, mark me up.” With his grin glued to his lips, he watched her reach for a condom, rolling it down his cock to draw a soft groan from him. They held eye contact as he positioned himself on top of her, letting his fingers brush through her dripping slit for a moment before finally pushing into her. 

Groans and moans left the two at the new sensation, with her walls fluttering around him and his cock disappearing further and further inside of her. Dean pressed his forehead against hers as a deep exhale left her as if she needed to relax, to tell herself that everything was alright. He moved slowly, careful at first, giving (y/n) enough time to adjust while their bodies kept meeting with every thrust. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect.” Dean’s words drew a small chuckle out of (y/n). Her arms found their way around his neck, letting her fingernails scratch at his skin on their way up his neck. The second she found his roots to tug on them, Dean added more speed to his thrusts, set on leaving marks just like she had asked him to. 

She was about to moan his name, about to beg Dean to move faster, but the sound of her ringing phone forced her attention away from him. For a second, his pace began to falter, but then a smirk widened on his lips. 

“Who is it?” Her wide eyes found their way back to his. 

“The guy from the bar.” She was breathless, struggled to reply while a desperate whine left her. She needed Dean to move again, to push her closer to the edge with his cock buried deep inside of her. 

“Pick up.” Confusion was laced in her gaze as she watched Dean reach for the phone. He answered the call before he pushed it into her direction. They held eye contact as he began to move once again, fucking her even deeper than before.

“Hi, (y/n). I wanted to ask if you’re free tonight? I’d like to take you out for dinner.” (Y/n) struggled to stop her moans from leaving her, not wanting to give away what she and Dean were currently doing–even though Dean was clearly set on proving to the guy that she was now taken. 

“Hi, listen,” Dean’s thrust met her swollen spot the second she began speaking, drawing a moan from her she couldn’t bite down. Embarrassment was about to flush through her, widening her pupils while Dean’s smirk kept growing bigger. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Another moan left her as Dean met that spot again and again, letting the phone fall from her hands while hoping that the guy would simply hang up. No longer could she care about anything but the way Dean fucked her, letting his fingers meet her pulsing bundle to give her the needed push. 

“Cum for me, baby.” His lips met hers as she came, swallowing her moans while he fucked her through the sensation. (Y/n)’s body was buzzing, trembling beneath Dean as he searched his own high with fast thrusts that left her whimpering. He came with a groan moments later, thrown over the edge. 

“Fuck, that was something.” His husky words left her chuckling. She watched him roll off her to get rid of the condom before finding his way back to her bed. Dean’s warmth engulfed her, his arms pulled her against his chest as he pressed a kiss to her hairline. 

“We still have to talk about all of this.” (Y/n) whispered words drew a hum from Dean, who found himself being pulled back into his hazy thoughts. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to earn your forgiveness, I promise, sweetheart.” Her eyes flickered up to meet his, studying the unreadable expression he wore. 

“As long as you keep touching me like that I’m sure we’ll find a way.”

[carlamathew00]

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