#but anyways damn. that was so vivid for no reason)

[harrylights]

ok i just need to write down these whack 1d dreams i’ve had the last couple days

[irlnikeiyomiuri]

hhhuh. huh. huh.

[tojisun]

!! it’s very silly and unserious and the only reason it’s long is because it’s so vivid in my head. unedited as hell </3

nosy neighbours tf 141 got me giggling. and it’s not even inherently sexy nor attractive, it’s really just them being in people’s (or a person’s) business.

thinking about how, in retirement, they still bought a house together because it’s so odd to have separate lives. and so they bought one in the suburbs, with five bedrooms and four baths, and a really big backyard. kyle picked up gardening so the backyard was not just a plus but a damn requirement.

so they move in, not giving a damn about that one old WASP couple across the street watching them all with a sneer because apparently moving in with your mates is unusual. well, whatever. fuck them.

then they meet their new neighbour. you’re single—divorced, price would tell them later—whose life is centred around your 9 to 5 job at an office in the city which you wake up at 5am for.

you leave the house at 6:30am and then amble back home when it’s pushing 8pm. it’s a boring life; a boring routine. not even your little front lawn of cared-for wild flowers managed to hold their attention longer than a day.

so with that said, they’d like to go on a record and say that it’s all johnny’s fault.

friday evening, he started the game by saying, “she bought a baguette.” he paused. “and a bottle? it's shaped like lube?”

john blinked, setting his book down. “what.”

mactavish shrugged, still peering from the crack in the curtains. kyle walked in then, his apron all dirtied. “hey, i’m craving a baguette.”

johnny laughed and looked at price like price was supposed to get something from that. of course he didn’t, but johnny’s always been good at carrying the momentum so, to no one’s surprise, he repeats the observation three days after the previous one.

“bag’o coal and lemon bread. what the hell.”

“that’s a disgusting dinner combo,” kyle chirps, switching the channels.

simon throws a pillow at him because he had been watching a documentary about moths when kyle changed the program without asking him.

“it’s just monday,” john finally replies, cementing his participation in the game. “why’s she buying lem—did she not grocery shop?”

johnny looks at him, wide-eyed. “that’s a good question, sir.” then he turns, ignoring them again to peer at their neighbour. john’s sure you’re back in your home so he really doesn’t know what johnny’s watching at that point.

simon was successful at wrestling the remote control back to him, and the program’s returned to the moths.

.

thursday evening, two and a half weeks after monday’s lemon bread and bag of coal, the game picks up again.

“who the hell makes a rug purchase during the weekdays?” kyle asks, his voice teetering between fascination and concern.

“how long’s the rug?” johnny replies, all of them watching as kyle stands in front of that slip of window they now use for ‘bird watching.’

kyle spreads his arms out—2.5 ft.

“huh,” johnny says. “for the toilet, you reckon?”

“probably for the cat, actually,” simon cuts in.

“what cat.” john doesn’t even know who asked that, but really—what cat?

“a round thing,” simon answers. “grey fur.”

“aww,” johnny croons. “that’s cute.”

john sighs and turns back to the morning paper’s crossword puzzle for the day.

.

you don’t join the neighbourhood’s annual summer barbecue party much to their disappointment. although, in all fairness, john understands your decision because they wouldn’t have gone to it anyway had they not found out that the host this year was going to be that WASP couple who still sneered at them every chance they get.

the wife, of course, couldn’t turn them away in front of the other neighbours who particularly loved kyle and, shockingly, simon so there they are, eating what is begrudgingly some good ribs while listening to the neighbourhood gossip.

and while each story was riveting, nothing could honestly hold a candle to their ‘bird’ and your peculiar grocery runs.

.

one evening, you come home with a man. john tells them it’s your ex-husband, admitting to them that yes, he’s now used up their once-a-month pass to accessing ‘special’ resources with regards to finding more about you.

“think they’re fuckin’?” johnny asks, no longer feigning disinterest.

kyle groans because it had been more than a minute now since johnny dropped a card from his stack; they tried their best to be patient as they waited, thinking mactavish needed more time since, apparently, he’s never played cards before—growing up as a catholic boy, he’s always been told that any form of gambling was a gateway to eternal damnation.

john didn’t have the heart to tell him that you didn’t have to make bets to be able to play cards.

“maybe,” simon replies, ignoring kyle’s angry grumbling. “why else would she bring him home? her house ain’t really a wonder.”

“…how do you know that?” kyle asks, his words measured and slowed.

simon blinks, then he sniffs, before looking away.

“hey!” mactavish screams, catching on. “we agreed no tampering with anythin’ of ‘ers!”

“yeah? well tell ‘at to cap’n too—he was already there when i broke in.”

johnny turns to him with a theatrical betrayed look. kyle drops his head on the table because the game’s been fully abandoned now.

“sir,” johnny says, his voice airy like he’s speaking mid-gasp. “you didn’t.”

john licks the back of his teeth, then, “jus’ wanted to see ‘er cat, s’all.”

.

the ex-husband leaves three hours later with a familiar rug tucked to his side.

.

“huh,” simon murmurs, his voice so faint that john almost missed it. “tulips and tuna today.”

johnny and kyle would’ve loved the update but the two are away for the week.

john messages it to the group chat.

suds (19:21)

> holy shit she’s improving.

.

oddly enough, it took them six months since they moved in for them to finally talk to you.

or, well, for you to talk to them.

“i’m havin’ a yard sale tomorrow,” you say after the introductions have passed, your lips tugged up in a shy smile.

john honestly couldn’t even remember how he used to envision you—old age caught up to him and for a whole while, you were nothing but a coloured blob in his eyes since they turned out to be more damaged than expected—but whatever that had been was erased the moment you stood before them.

shy and awkward, your back slouched just a little like you’re trying to curl into yourself in the face of their rapt attention, but even then you’re beautiful.

“yeah?” kyle asks, smiling; the first to break out of the trance you put them into. “and would y’need help, pretty miss?”

“oh, you,” you murmur, strained laughter peeling from your lips. “and yeah, i do. would that be alright? i tried moving my old couch downstairs and my back almost gave out. i swear, i thought i was going to see the lord today.”

johnny laughs, loud and booming. “well we’re glad that you didn’t die today, otherwise who would take care of little truffle, huh?”

john barely stopped himself from heaving out a loud sigh, an attempt made more challenging when he caught the way kyle whirled his head to glare at mactavish, the act not any less subtle since it startled you too. simon grumbles something incoherent—it’s lost amidst johnny’s petering laugh and your swelling horror.

“…how, exactly, do you know my cat’s name?”

[zepskies]

Talk to Me

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Summary: Ben had a vivid nightmare last night. You know how he is about his “man feelings.” But you try to get him to open up anyway, before you both lose your tempers.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @deans-spinster-witch. It's set in the Break Me Down-verse and is a sequel to the SB imagine below:

See this imagine for context: Ben loses you.

Word Count: 1,600 Tags/Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Imagine: You confront Ben about his fears.

“What the fuck is wrong with this cocksucking coffee maker?” Ben snarked.

He bumped the top of it with his hand, so hard you thought he was going to break it.

Your brows furrowed as you shot him a look. It was too early for all that.

“Nothing?” you said. “Worked just fine for me.”

He sported an even grumpier face as the coffee finally poured into his mug.

Something’s wrong, you thought.

Ben was usually quiet in the morning. Relaxed and slow until he’d had his coffee and started his routine, with his newspaper at his favorite lounge chair, then breakfast in the kitchen with you.

You were making pancakes on a griddle, but you were also watching your boyfriend. He wasn’t just quiet. He was downright grouchy and taciturn.

What crawled up his ass? you thought. Though you had your suspicions...

“Breakfast is done,” you called to him.

He eventually joined you, sitting down at the breakfast bar. You served him a mildly enormous stack, and just two pancakes for yourself. In most respects, Ben was still a bottomless pit.

However, after eating the first couple of pancakes in silence, he pushed away from his plate and leaned back in his seat. You held your coffee mug between both hands and eyed him.

“You okay, baby?” you asked, repeating the very words you’d asked him last night.

He glanced at you through surly brows. “Yeah. You can stop asking me that.”

Right, you thought. He’d been twitching in his sleep, muttering, making sounds that had worried you enough to wake him with a gentle hand on his dewy arm. His response had worried you too—that haze of disoriented shock, followed by relief when he recognized your face.

You’d comforted him the best you could after his nightmare, but he hadn’t wanted to talk about it. You knew he wouldn’t now, either. That didn’t stop you from trying.

You set down your mug and soothed a hand up his arm, until your fingers disappeared under his shirt sleeve.

“What’s got you all sunshine and rainbows then, Mr. Grouch?” you lightly teased. “I even made you pancakes. Still waiting on my thank you.”

Ben didn’t want to answer, though he briefly glanced at you. He slurped at his coffee.

You sighed. A tick of annoyance at your brow.

“Okay," you said. "Well, since we had breakfast here, I figured we could go out for lunch later when we get to the city. There’s this amazing deli I could take you to—”

“We’re not going,” Ben said.

You blinked in surprise. Your hand fell away from his shoulder. “What?”

“I’ve got things to do,” he said. And without looking at you, he grabbed his half-full plate and got up to bring it over by the sink. He speared a few pancakes back onto the plate you’d served them up in before dumping his plate into the sink.

At least he was learning something about living with you. Now, if he really wanted to impress you, he'd wash that damn dish.

But for now, you wanted answers more than you wanted clean plates. You slowly got up out of your chair and went to him. You tried your best not to be accusatory when you asked your next questions.

“What do you mean? What do you have to do?”

He didn’t seem to want to answer you. Or maybe, he didn’t have a good answer, because he was fucking lying.

You laid a hand on his arm. “Ben. I need you to talk to me right now, because this is our first day off together in weeks. You know this was supposed to be our day. So you’d better have a damn good reason.”

He frowned angrily down at you. “We’re not going because I fucking said so. That’s all you need to know.”

You glared back at him, standing your ground.

You raised a brow. “That’s not good enough with me, and you know it. But if that’s how you’re going to be about it, I’ll call Annie and make it a girls’ day.”

You turned on your heel to walk away, but an iron hand grabbed your wrist. Holding back a wince, you frowned at Ben over your shoulder. His face was tight with irritation.

“You’re not going any-damn-where,” he snapped.

“You better let me go, right now,” your temper snapped right back.

This man was protective, but he had never been this bad. Not even after you got out of the hospital after Vought Tower collapsed. Granted, you’d been fully healed. He’d never outright tried to forbid you from leaving the house though.  

“What the hell is your problem?” you said.

He didn’t want to let you go, but after a beat, he released you. His frown deepened when you had to rub the ache out of your wrist.

He hadn’t meant to grip you that hard. Part of him relented…but then it firmed back up, when he remembered last night. The images were still filtering through his mind on a loop.

The alley, the blood slipping through his fingers, your pale, cold cheek, and lifeless eyes staring up at him.

“There’s something we need to discuss,” he said gruffly.

You tilted your head at him. Your face was tight and angry now, but you still followed him into the living room. You sat down together on the couch, and with crossed arms, you waited for him to speak.

His elbow rested on his knee while his hand swept over his mouth and beard. Then his gaze slid over to yours.

“You need to take Compound V,” he said.

To say that shocked you was an understatement. Your eyes widened, and your body went rigid.

“Excuse me?” you said lowly.

“There’s no way around it,” he said. Grit was laced in his voice, but you didn’t care.

“I’ve made myself very clear—”

“And you also said we’d revisit this little chat, so here we are,” Ben retorted. “You need to live in fucking reality. I can’t be with you 24/7. I don’t trust those CIA fucks to wipe their own ass, let alone keep an eye on you. Especially when I’m in the field.”

You just managed to lasso in your temper when you finally realized where this was coming from. You inhaled a couple of calming breaths. Your fingers tapped your knees. You sat up straighter before you turned to him more fully.

Your hand reached out to cover his on his thigh.

“Ben,” you started. Soft and even. “What did you dream last night?”

His face tightened further, his lips pressed into a line. It took him a moment, but eventually he answered.

“Nothing. Doesn’t fucking matter.”

“We both know that it does,” you chided.

When he just maintained his stoic façade, you slid closer to him on the couch. You curled a hand around his bicep and pressed a kiss to his shoulder.

You looked up at him.

He didn’t want to break.

You just waited until the green of his eyes met yours.

“Hey. It’s just me,” you said softly. “Talk to me.”

His brows knit together, slightly. His jaw clenched and twitched under his skin.

“I lost you,” he said.

Admitting to that was like admitting that his uniform was a lie; that he had no fear. That he was invulnerable. That he was a god in human form.

But you had become the last human part of him. To lose that would be to lose everything again, worse than 1984.

Somehow, you’d become his reason…for most things. He didn’t think you realized it, nor would he allow himself to tell you.

His eyes closed when you leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. You let your fingers sift through his hair, brushing it back and away from his forehead.

“Do you know why I want to stay normal?” you asked. "Albeit fragile and breakable."

He didn’t answer, but his eyes silently asked for one.

“Because I want to stay myself,” you said. “Power corrupts, and there’s a big chance I wouldn’t be the woman you loved anymore if I injected that shit into my veins.”

Ben frowned. He hadn’t considered that…but he still felt it was a price worth paying.

You moved off the couch and into his lap. He welcomed you with an arm curling around your waist and another moving up your thigh.

Your arms twined around his neck, and you kissed him properly, nice and slow. He tasted like coffee and maple syrup. His hair was soft between your curling fingers.

You parted from him after a while, just to press another comforting kiss to his temple.

“I know what I’m asking of you, and I’m sorry,” you whispered against his skin. “But we’ll figure something else out.”

“How?” he scoffed, his brows furrowing again. “In a few decades—”

“I thought you didn’t mind a few wrinkles,” you teased.

A smirk flickered across his lips. “You know what the fuck I mean.”

“I know,” you nodded. “But we have time. I promise, we’ll figure this out.”

Ben didn’t totally believe you. There was going to come a time where you were going to have to make a choice: between him and your principles.

It wasn’t fair, but that was the reality. Life wasn’t fucking fair.

Until then, maybe he could make one concession.

“If you want…” he said. You leaned back enough to see his face.

He met your gaze. “We can go to dinner later. In the city.”

A slow smile spread across your face.

“But we’re getting a private room,” he warned, squeezing your hips. “And we’re driving there and back. That’s it.”

Your smile warmed further, and kissed the corner of his mouth. You were sure you could convince him to go a Broadway show afterwards, if you plied him in a few key ways...

“I like the idea of a private room,” you said.

His fingers crept up your pajama pants, drifting down between your thighs. His thumb started to stroke warmth through your panties. It had you smiling, sighing, subtly pressing into his hand.

His smirk deepened.

“You do, don’t you?” he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at the change in him. It didn’t take much to get him worked up. So you hugged him close and spoke into his ear all the things you had planned for him tonight.

Before, and after dinner.

AN: Lol I love writing this lovable asshole. 💚 Especially in the BMD-verse.

I have more Dean imagines coming soon! Including a requested sequel to "You are Dean's one exception," in which Sam "crosses the line"... 🫣

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD Tag List (Part 1):

@this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @mrsjenniferwinchester @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26 @spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

@xoxovienna @katherineann814 @lollag0w0 @globetrotter28 @nancymcl @ashbatz @secretdreamlandmentality @kristophalis @wonderland2022 @emily-winchester @shelh93 @sl33pylilbunny @spoonmynoodle @chernayawidow

@buckybarnes-1917 @asgardprincess97 @sometimes-i-sing @itsyellow @karnellius @kimberleymjw @is-this-a-febreze-commercial @iamsapphine @sanscas @se-fucking-hun @lassie-bird @jessjad @yepimthatperson @fromcaintodean @stoneyggirl2

@spnfamily-j2 @im-a-slut-for-fluff @lacilou @venicesem @mimaria420 @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @tearsfortheyouth @agalliasi @chriszgirl92 @kazsrm67

[bakugoushotwife]

blessing and curse

summary: yuuji is a wonderful boyfriend...you just wish he was able to fuck you... warnings: post shibuya, aged up duh, yuuji struggles with ptsd, night terrors, as well as anxiety, you both see therapists, oral (fem receiving), penetrative sex, fem!reader, pet names, (pretty girl, baby, cutie, etc), rough sex. wc: 3k a/n: this is my first yuuji piece nom nom nom i'm actually obsessed and soaking wet tbh i'm thinking thoughts for yuuji.........anyway to my lovely requester i hope you enjoy this <;3 jjk masterlist here

yuuji feels things very intensely. it’s a blessing and a curse, though the latter is more often experienced than the former. guilt, loss, regret–all things that nearly swallowed him whole while he fought for his friends and the people of japan–for the whole world. it’s so hard to be him, to live with what he carries on his shoulders–on his soul. he’s unloveable. he’s the one who caused all of the pain—things would have been easier if he died. there’s a number of people whose lives ended because of and for him. he was only just adjacent to a murderer. months after the fighting ceased and the war was won, he would wake up numerous times through the night with night terrors. he couldn’t even call them nightmares because they weren’t fabrications of his imagination. they were all too real memories that kept making their rounds–reminding him that he would be forever burdened with a layer of hell no one else could claim to know about. 

he met you in the waiting room of his therapist’s office. he remembers seeing you and wondering what you could be talking to his specialist about. it meant you also had to be a sorcerer—clearly he couldn’t see a normal one about his specific traumas and baggage, and apparently neither could you. he remembers not even knowing you and his heart still hurting for the pretty young girl that must be hurting like him. he remembers hoping that you hadn’t been through anything like what he had—the anxious voice in the back of his mind wondering if somehow he caused your pain via sukuna’s rampages or the destruction and death that followed him. he remembers you meeting his eyes on a seemingly unremarkable thursday afternoon, catching him in the middle of one of his staring way too long episodes. you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at him in amusement. 

the rest was easy. you were easy to talk to, to admire, to hold, to love. you made him feel intense things in a good way–in a way he had nearly given up on. his world had slowly become a mixed palette of blacks and whites and muted grays–but your smile brought color back. your touch made vivid purples and yellows; your laughter the brightest of pinks and the most warm oranges. you became the blessing where he was the curse, the savior of a damned man bound to paint on smiles and pretend that sacrificing his soul and everyone he’s ever loved was worth it. now he felt unimaginable comfort and love by getting to know you. his smiles weren’t so fake anymore—and the only things that woke him in the night was losing you. truly the only fear that yuuji itadori has left: cursing his blessing. 

you thought he was the best boyfriend around and an even better man. you’ve slowly but surely unraveled the reason he was visiting the therapist through his eventual opening up to you and telling you just a fraction of what he’s experienced in his life and you can understand his intimacy issues. see…yuuji is easy to love. he’s wonderful, attentive, sweet, careful, strong and chivalrous. but he won’t fuck you. you’re too nervous to push him any further—all too aware of his fears of letting anyone in, of loving and showing that in ways that make you vulnerable. he’s all too conscious of what it would mean—of the danger he would be putting you in.

there’s been many times here lately that you’ve thought that line will finally be crossed—heavy petting and make-outs that get you squirming in his lap and soaking through your panties. it always goes this way, no matter how innocent the two of you try to keep your dates. move night, game night, even cooking together ends up with yuuji’s tongue down your throat and his hands under your shirt. tonight is no different, some youtube video plays in the background—a forgotten video game walkthrough that yuuji had been paying careful attention to until you leaned in to rip it away with those teasing kisses to his jaw. you know exactly what buttons to press after four months of nothing past second base driving you to a point of restlessness. 

you just wanted him to see your perseverance. you would do this for as long as it takes, anything to prove that you’re here to stay. you want to make him comfortable enough to tear those walls down—the ones that make his eyes flutter shut and his hands fist at his pants in order to keep them to himself. his eyes close to will himself to concentrate on something–anything—other than the feeling of your warm lips tracing his pulse, smooth fingers sliding under his shirt to outline the dips and muscles of his torso. it’s not that he doesn’t want to this, he craves you like nothing ever before. your touch is the medicine bringing him back to life, but he can’t allow himself to ruin you—taint you. but as you move into his lap and change your kisses to more intense nips and sucks at his skin, his body betrays his mind. he can feel the blood rush to his cock as your thighs trap him beneath you, and he moans out at the same time you do. the pressure of your clothed cunt sitting against his needy dick has his hands moving before he can tell himself to stop. he grabs your waist, accidentally and automatically rutting up against the friction you offer with a hiss. 

“fuck, cutie.” he groans, your lips covering his parted and pouty ones to keep him from protesting further. his fingers only dig into your side as the two sides of his mind argue with each other. he wants you badly, your body slotted against his perfectly and the way you kiss him like you’re trying to touch his soul drives him crazy. anyone with a girlfriend as hot as you would be a fucking idiot to keep denying himself of her. his hands knead the warm flesh of your body as an instinct, his body knowingly responding to your advances. his tongue slides over yours in a frenzy, his head becoming fuzzy as saliva trails down his chin—something in him telling him to stop when his hands slide upwards to palm your chest. you cry out at the feeling—so starved for his affection that you know you’re soaking wet already. just his rough hands scraping over your sensitive nipples sends you into rutting rhythmic circles of your hips over the tent in his pants, breaking your sloppy kiss in order to remove your shirt fully in a silent show of what you wanted to happen next. 

“aw baby—you know i can’t,” he whines, his lips swollen and even pinker than usual. he drops his hold to your hips, making comforting circles over the bone beneath his grasp. your face drops to instant heartbreak and he can feel his own heart try to rip itself apart for making you so sad. he never thought about how this must affect you, a woman with needs and desires for her boyfriend. he knows this can’t last much longer or he’ll lose you anyway. the room is just a mixture of your heavy breathing and the monotone droning of the tv for a few moments, and then you whine in retaliation, picking up his hand and moving it back to your breast. you search his eyes, seeing the fear flickering in those brown embers of his. you just need to show him there’s nothing to be scared of, that you need him worse than you need the oxygen in this room and would do anything for him today and forever. 

“yuuji,” you gasp out in such a voice that he knows he won’t be able to hold back this time. four months of seeing your body in your cute date outfits and in his shirt after you’ve spent the night; the feeling of your curves under his fingers as he guides you to the safe side of the sidewalk or the swell of your hip as he guides you through the door he’s just opened—four months of draining his balls after he’s sent you home with nothing more than a few wet kisses and tit-squeezes. the way your eyes shine like you’re about to cry if he denies you one last time…it’s too much. “please—i need you,” you breathe out, reaching those gorgeously soft hands out to sweep against his cheeks, to plead with him to be a good boyfriend. he can’t make you suffer any longer—”i need you so bad yuuji, please don’t push me away…i’m your forever girl!” 

oh fuck. he might cum in his pants from hearing that alone. suddenly, silence falls upon his mind. he can only hear the echoes of your cries for him–no more voices in his head arguing about the best way to continue, only you. a guttural groan rips from his throat and he stands with your legs wrapped around his body, a broad hand snaking up your back to keep you pressed against him. you squeal a little at the sudden shift and the deep growl that he let out, his face now devoid of that playful man you’ve come to love. he looks so focused, so serious, his brow furrowed as he looks over your face. 

“i’m sorry i made you wait so long, pretty girl.” he nods, letting your body bounce on the bed as he’s set on immediately removing the remainder of your clothes. he pulls you to the edge, legs dangling over the sides. you almost think it must be too good to be true, sitting up on your elbows to catch a glimpse of that ravenous fire consuming his previously kind eyes. he’s leaned back to peel his own clothes off, but his eyes never leave your body. he looks over your lip pinched between your teeth to your pebbled nipples to the glistening slick coating your inner thighs. he doesn’t even know where to start, but he’s going to ensure that you’re finally taken care of. “i’m a dumbass—thought i was keeping you safer like that.” he mutters, leaning over to kiss the space between your ribcage. he makes his way to your jaw, licking a hungry stripe between your breasts and claiming your neck with bruising nips at the delicate flesh that greeted him. 

you’re set to mewling immediately, the flip switched in your boyfriend making you rub your legs together in anticipation. he chuckles and you can feel him smile against your skin as his hand snakes down to keep you from squirming. he quickly pecks your lips. “m gonna make it up to you now, baby girl.” his eyes are wide, but glazed over with affection. you nod, feeling his strong fingers dig into the supple flesh of your thigh to keep you from closing them, his abs raking over your sensitive clit as he lowers himself to his knees at the foot of the bed. your face burns as you realize what he’s going to do, but he doesn’t give you time to think about it before turning your mind to mush from the feeling of his fat tongue splitting your lips apart and breaching your tiny hole. he seems pleased by the way you react—back arching off the bed and hands gripping at the sheets from the surprising burn. it’s a good burn, the kind you’ve been craving for the months you’ve been with a man who loves you like he does, your wanton moans just cementing that his choice was the right one. he’s growing addicted to this already; your flavor on his tongue, your moans echoing in his ears and your thighs pressing in to the sides of his face. he feels your silky walls clamp down on his tongue, making his eyes roll back at the thought of putting his dick in something so tight. he slurps at the arousal slipping out, sliding his tongue to the hardened bud waiting at the top of your cunt. he wraps his tongue around your clit, making you jolt at the sudden increase in sensation. it’s amazing—goosebumps prickle out over your skin and you reach down to tug at the silky pink locks woven between your fingers. you can feel every nerve running through your body and how it builds with a fiery pleasure that you know only yuuji can give you. “oh my god—yuuji!” you cry out as that pleasure mounts to a tipping point. his teeth scrape against your hood to encourage you to fall over that line so he can see what he’s been denying you of for four achingly long months. 

you make the sweetest face when you cum, it has him closing a fist around his own dick to calm himself—the promise of having your pussy making him jerk at his own touch. you even sound so pretty as you shatter, legs jerking and your grip on his hair yanking almost painfully hard. it only makes yuuji smile wider, feeling a bubbly sense of satisfaction ripple in his own gut from making you feel so good. 

“nngh, yuuji–” you whine, your vision returning to normal after a few seconds of respite. he’s already pushing you back to the pillows, manhandling you into the bent position he wanted. you’re on your back, knees by your ears and a boyfriend giving you no time to be anxious about the angry and leaky horsecock sliding through your folds. you thought he was a sweet man, and maybe he still is–but his own excitement to have you has him forgetting his normal chivalrous behavior. “fuck–yuuji!” you claw at his biceps, fighting against that true splitting burn. his tongue was nothing compared to the girth he pierces you with—and he’s smiling so tenderly at your wiggling and struggling. 

“s’okay, cutie. you can take it, you’re already taking it!! didn’t you ask me to?” he raises a brow, face flashing with mock-confusion as your hands shove at his chest, all in an effort to get used to the feeling of him inside you. his thumb brushes your cheek, his other hand keeping the back of your thigh shoved back. “nyeh—you begged me! come on pretty girl–you gotta loosen up!” he laughs airily, moving the hand from your face back down to pinch and roll your aching clit. you jump at first, the touch sending another jolt of pleasure circulating to your brain–and then you relax enough for him to move. he’s got you folded in such a way that you can hardly breathe–or maybe that’s from how he slams into you recklessly, tip catching on your poor, innocent, cervix each time. it hurts, it burns everywhere—but it’s the best feeling in the world. his breathing grows ragged once he settled into a pace, brutally slamming into you in a way that led you to believe he wasn’t doing this on accident. 

soon, your hands around his biceps slip to your sides, eyes lulling into a pleasure-induced haze. you watch him, the twitch of his nose and the way his hair gets curly once it sticks to his forehead from his sweat. he’s perfect, and he’s finally giving you all of himself, really devoting himself to you, conquering any fear. you don’t mind if you’ll be bedridden for the next week—feeling his heavy cock in your chest from how hard he ruts into you—it would be well worth it to hear his grunts and whimpers of satisfaction, to feel the bruising grip he has on your body like he’s afraid you might disappear. it’s all so good, and exactly like you craved. “there she goes—takin’ it like a champ now!” he cheers you on, panting a little as he leans over your body and grabs the headboard, deepening his angle as if he wasn’t already fucking you brainless. 

the new angle makes your jaw drop in absolute earth-shattering bliss. you two could be the only people left on earth and you would never know—to consumed in yuuji itadori to notice anything else. you’re back to pawing at his chest, the coil in your gut building rapidly as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. you wanted everything, he’ll make sure he gives you everything. the headboard creaks, the bed moans with you and you truly do worry he might break it for a split second–but his broken moan of your name swallows up any wandering thoughts. a bead of sweat slides down the slope of his nose before it drops onto your cheek, the evidence of his hardwork. he moans your name again, warning you that the end was approaching. you nod as he moves your legs to his shoulders, leaning as close as possible to wrap you in his arms and kiss you in short, desperate bursts. he treasures you more than he thought possible, that look you give him right before your eyes roll back into your head from your orgasm makes his own dick jump within your vice-grip of a cunt. you make that sweet face again, a face he knows he’s hooked on—your pussy spasming around him to welcome his fat load gets him to make his own kind of special and beautiful face, lip between his teeth and adam’s apple bobbing at the same pace his balls slap into your backside. you swear you can feel his heart beating, his lungs filling and emptying as he flattens his chest to yours and fills your guts with his loving cum. he keeps thrusting even after he’s done, just watching your face contort and shift, your body bouncing in his arms. he likes the ache of overstimluation, and loves the way you mewl and hug him, eyes all sleepy and far away. 

“that’s it, you did it, so so good.” he praises in a soft tone, kissing your lips and then your nose and then your forehead with equal adoration. “can’t believe i kept us from feeling like that!” he shakes his head, kissing your cheeks to continue showering you in his love if not to keep you awake. he sits back up and slides out of you, quickly snatching his t-shirt up to catch the spillage. it’s hot, watching his seed trickle from your abused pussy—he whines a little at the sight, puppy dog eyes flickering over your body as if to wonder if you could take another round…

now that you’ve gotten him to start, you may never get him to stop.

[runawaycarouselhorse]

overheard in a home video grandma she was talking about her childhood memories; but i think we can all apply this to our own lives and memories because gosh i really feel this myself

“I don’t know what happened yesterday, but I know what happened back then”

— my grandma

[yingandzhan]

You know, one thing that boggles my mind is how some in the fandom can dispute that Yu-furen "didn't whip WWX", "only whipped him that one time in the novel and once in the extras" and my absolute favourite response... "WWX said she never hit him".

All of which are the most ludicrous statements I've heard since Trump won the election...

Obviously YZY hit and abused WWX throughout his life. Not only do we see her doing so, but we are given a vivid description of his back in the extras and it's covered in old scars alongside the new ones she has just given him for no good reason. Before anyone cries "but it's propriety, he was half naked in front of a young woman!" and all the other crap I've seen people spout, he's not the only one with a bare chest... Yet she specifically blamed and targeted him. Your precious "tiger mom" YZY was being unreasonable and you god damn well known it!

Anyway, regardless of whether you believe WWXs obvious lie to save face and cope with the trauma (just like JL does when he denies JC hits him and we clearly SEE otherwise) there is an actual line in the novel, from the narrator, not WWX... that spells it out for readers in black and white!

...and Jiang Fengmian’s wife Yu Ziyuan had never spoken well of them to him— honestly, things had been pretty good if she didn’t WHIP HIM or tell him to scram, or kneel in the ancestral hall, or stay away from Jiang Cheng.

- Vol 1. 7S, which is my least favourite translation because I really do feel the translator actively tries to play the abuse down.

Jiang Fengmian’s wife, Yu Ziyuan, never had a decent conversation with him. He would be fortunate if she didn’t GIVE HIM A FEW LASHES, or banish him to kneel at the ancestral hall so that he would keep his distance from Jiang Cheng.

- Chapter 29, Taming Wangxian

...Jiang Fengmian’s wife, Yu Ziyuan, had never been interested in having a conversation with him at all. If she didn’t WHIP HIM A FEW TIMES and tell him to get out, kneel at the ancestral shrine, and keep far away from Jiang Cheng, he already considered that pretty good

- Chapter 29, Fanyiyi

...Yu ZiYuan never spoke properly to Wei WuXian at all. It was lucky for him if she didn’t GIVE HIM A FEW WHIPS and send him to kneel in the ancestral hall so that he’d keep his distance from Jiang Cheng.

- Chapter 29, ExR

It's in...Every. Single. Translation. So there's no excuse if you're talking about the novel or tagging things as MDZS or Mo Dao Zu Shi. It's right there for everyone to see. WWX deemed it a good day if he wasn't whipped! Which would have been the days YZY was off night-hunting and nowhere near Lotus Pier.

Thankfully YZY being away from the clan residence seems to be the case more often than not. But those days she was there... It was a likely scenario WWX was going to be "punished" (for absolutely nothing) in some way or form and judging by the scars he had across his back, she very much liked to hit him with her spiritual weapon.

[n-i-m-u-e]

Lucemond bodyswap!AU

This plot was quite popular when I was a teenager (before the dinosaurs), but I've hardly ever seen it in this fandom. And a few days ago I literally had this dream (yes, I resumed taking antidepressants this month and usually when you start taking them, you have very vivid, detailed and interesting dreams at first) I couldn't let go of the idea.

Let's imagine that Rhaenyra and her family stay in KL until Viserys' death to prevent the usurper from taking her throne, and then just stay there because she's now queen. And so, with the help of some bizarre Valyrian magic really don't care the causes, only the effects, Luke and Aemond swap bodies and, according to the classic of the genre, cannot tell anyone about it (although Helaena knows anyway). And of coooourse, they have to work together to get everything back to the way it was.

-----------------------∞----------------------

for me, this is such an inexhaustible endless source of dramedy:

Aemond’s first thought when he looks in the mirror and sees his nephew's reflection is 'What can I do with this horribly messy hair?'

Luke wakes up in Aemond’s chambers and struggles with his new size, bumping into and tripping over everything until he finally reaches the room he’d fallen asleep in the night before, already covered in bruises. There, he sees himself—or is it his body?—turning the room upside down, searching for something. Luke timidly asks what Aemond is looking for, and with a look of wild madness in his eye, Aemond barks: “A comb!”

Luke, on the other hand, doesn't care about Aemond’s hair at all. It annoyed him how long it is, although he's mesmerized by its softness and color. Especially the color, since he’s imagined countless times what it would be like if he’d been born with Targaryen hair. But he can’t deal with the long strands and just ties them into a messy… something. Aemond nearly has a stroke when he sees this vandalism for the first time.

They agree to call a truce until they find out how it happened, but they constantly fight for various reasons. Mostly because Aemond is the one who panics dramatising overreacts about the situation. Luke, as an empathetic child without emotional constipation, even tries to calm him down. But, as expected, only encounters rudeness in return. The uncle says that he has never felt so defective before, even after he had lost an eye. He also says that he is very worried that Luke-in-his-body will now disgrace Aemond with ‘such idiotic expressions’ after Luke-in-his-body cannot hide the obvious resentment on his face.

Their attempts to behave like the other are rather clumsy. Mainly because Lucerys has never really hidden his emotions, while Aemond has never really shown his.

Aemond is shocked to find that in his sister’s family, displays of physical affection without any serious reason are perfectly normal. On the first dinner of being Luke, Aemond reflexively twists Jace’s arm when he tries to ruffle his hair unexpectedly. Later, when Rhaenyra, noticing something is off with "her sweet boy", pulls him close in a gentle hug to figure out what’s wrong, Aemond is beyond errored. And let’s not even talk about how the poor guy feels when Daemon slaps him on the back and asks for his opinion on something. Yes, used to being fairly distant from his own family, Aemond is really stunned by the intensity of the interconnectedness in his older sister's household.

After all this, he goes to complain to Luke, who is also in shock and distressed about 'Aemond's day', but it's more of a ‘Damn Bitch, You Live Like This?’. He hasn't seen any of his uncle's family all day and no one has even looked for him, except for Sir Christon (and it's a pretty enough nightmare). He tells Aemond that maybe understands why he's such a prick - because he hasn't ever been hugged enough.

Aemond, who can't come up with a plausible reason for not training with Jace, decides that he will quickly defeat his older nephew. But he is annoyed to realise that Luke's body is not as strong and trained as he is used to, and he cannot hold a sword of the weight that Aemond is used to. The fact that Jace is only gently encouraging his “brother” irritates him even more.

In the early morning, Aemond forces his nephew to train with him to learn how to use his new body—instead, Aemond cringes as watches Luke struggle to cope with his own. But after a little while, using each other's advice, they have a good sparring. Aemond is very excited about the possibility that having both eyes and the agility of a small body opens up—is triumphant at his victory. Luke look like he doesn't cares (he really doesn't, because he'd rather be in bed at this hour).

But the real hit for Aemond comes when Damon meets him later that morning and tells him that he saw the fight between him and Luke and is really proud of him because he has ‘unexpectedly good technique’. Aemond's fangirl-daddy-issues-emotions run high, and even the warning that ‘needs to be careful with this one-eyed Hightower cunt, because his extreme niceness is too alarming’ doesn't diminish them. By the end of the day, Aemond is mentally running around with the fact that ‘the Rogue Prince praised my fighting skills.’

Luke laughs for a very long time when hears about this conversation. Because ‘Daemon saw me beat you, and according to him, I fight only slightly better than Joff. Joff is six, uncle. Daemon thought "you" went easy on "me".’

They try to find some information on how to get back into their own bodies in Valyrian manuscripts, but Luke discovers just how terrible his uncle’s pronunciation is when he tries reading something aloud. The search is soon forgotten, as their impromptu speaking lesson stretches late into the evening.

The amount of time they’ve been spending together lately doesn’t go unnoticed and starts raising questions. So, the boys decide to split up for a while and conduct their searches separately.

Luke, who is unbearably bored being Aemond and lacking his discipline, decides to find some entertainment. He’d normally call Jace to fly or invite Rhaena for a walk, but obviously, that’s not an option now. So, he heads to see Helaena, who is delighted to have him visit. Luke confirms that his "quirky aunt" is really sweet, but freezes when she declares she’s 'so glad Aemond can see the underside’.

Later, Luke encounters Aegon too, who makes a comment about Aemond-Luke’s hairstyle. And boy, out of habit, reacts in much the same way as he would if something similar happened between him and Jace—he responds with some kind of small joke. Aegon stares at him as if he’s grown a second head—or at least regrown his second eye. Slowly, Lucerys realizes that his stoic, cold uncle is really just wearing a mask. After all, truly coldblooded people don’t flare up at every little remark.

Aemond, who’s genuinely trying to solve the problem, finds a reference to a book that might be in Dragonstone’s library. Without thinking twice, he decides to fly there. Based on who he looks like now, he thinks no one will find it odd if Lucerys Velaryon spends a few hours in the library at his own home. He heads to the dragonpit to ride Lucerys Velaryon dragon.

But dragons are not humans. Arrax is not at all pleased when some suspicious guy—no matter how much he looks like his rider (this no less suspicious point also needs to be clarified)—tries to approach him and decides to take a few bites out of the pretender. Aemond is rescued by Luke, who is on his way to visit his dragon. Unlike his uncle, he did not assume that Arrax could be fooled by appearances.

Luke angrily tells his uncle that he 'tried to steal someone else's dragon again and almost got hurt.' For the first time since they switched bodies, they get into a real fight, almost ending in blows. But when Aemond sweeps Luke off his feet with a well-placed strike from his “blind side” and and falls on top of him, they have some feelings that are… let's say not typical of a fight, which makes Aemond embarrassed and run away. What can you do—they still teenagers🤷‍♀️

And speaking of teenagers. If you wake up with morning wood while in someone else’s body, is jerking off in such a situation still considered masturbation or already sex? Just asking.

Aemond, isolated from his usual routine and still holding a grudge against Luke, decides to “gather some information on the enemy camp,” as he calls it. In reality, he's simply finding out how Luke is treated by his family. And this simultaneously makes him envious and angry on behalf of his nephew. Because he doesn't like the condescending attitude that thrives on Luke. Now it becomes clearer to him why he once thought the boy was weak and foolish, though in recent days, he’s realised that’s not the case at all. But this condescension causes Lucerys’ impostor syndrome to progress. It doesn't allow him to become stronger.

Also, unexpectedly for himself, Aemond finds that he actually likes his cousins, and even little Joffrey is “a decent kid.” Jacerys stops provoking a dull irritation as long as he’s either silent or far enough away that his words can’t be heard.

For a few days, Aemond and Luke avoid each other. But eventually, Luke comes to make peace and finally apologizes to his uncle, not just for the recent incident, but for everything.

They decide to fly to Dragonstone together because Luke knows how to sneak into the castle. After all, he has slipped out countless times with Jace, Rhaena, and on his own.

TO BE CONTINUED...

[plutoswritingplanet]

Hand That Feeds (Cooper Howard/The Ghoul x Female!Reader) pt.3

a/n: decided not to include smut just yet, it didn't feel right considering the story, next time i promise we'll f the raisin

Warnings: Blood and Violence, Hurt/Comfort, Smoking Cigs

Summary: The camp gets attacked, and as such, important changes are forced to develop. Cross-Posted on AO3

Pt. 1, Pt. 2

Old. He feels old. 

His age is like a thief in the night, it creeps up on him, slowly, before sinking its teeth right into his bones. There are centuries to his name now, and still, he doesn't learn from his mistakes. It's him chasing a woman, that has gotten him in this mess in the first place, and now he's doing the same damned thing. That's the only explanation, why he lets you get away with as much as he does. 

Here you sit, curled into yourself, his lasso secured tightly around you, your hands raised towards your face. He watches with confliction, as you put a cigarette up to your lips, the bud lighting your features for just a moment, before a cloud of smoke escapes into the dark night.  It's a deep, heavy inhale, your chest expands. He can feel the lasso move under his grip, and he flexes his fingers against it.

He's never seen anyone smoke in such an elegant manner, not after the bombs anyway. This regal air, a natural sort of poise, intrigues him beyond any reason. How did the Wasteland not destroy all this grace, how are you untouched by the roughness of this world, is beyond him. He tries to categorize everything he knows about you, all the small tidbits of information he has gathered through the short time you've been travelling together. Still, nothing explains this strange nature of you, and Cooper leans back, the sound of your Geiger meter spiking every time he moves. 

Cooper reaches into his pocket and takes out a pack of cigarettes, your cigarettes. Feeling your gaze on him, he takes one and lights it against the small fire you both got going. Well, in all fairness, it was you that started the fire, while your captor watched you struggle, keeping his leash on you. 

Those strange little power trips seemed to be one of his favorite games. He wouldn't be the first man that got off on power you've met, but he was definitely the most annoying. Your throat still burns slightly from the smoke, as you throw him a displeased look. 

The nicotine is barely noticeable to him, like a grain of sugar in a very large chocolate cake. In his case, the cake is made of every drug possible to find in the Wasteland. 

Still, Cooper tastes the pre-war chemicals with a strange sense of melancholy. It makes him remember, again, and he closes his eyes as he exhales the smoke, not bothering to smother a low groan of pleasure. Your eyebrows jump to your forehead, but you compose yourself quickly, throwing your burning bud into the fire. 

The events of the previous night are still vivid in your mind. His fingers flexing against your tongue. His knee between your legs, close but not close enough. Perhaps he wasn't the only one getting off on this uneven relationship, but you were not about to admit it, even to yourself.

- So - your voice is rough from the smoke, and you swallow around a lump in your throat - Where are you taking me?

He doesn't answer for a long while, just enjoying his cigarette, your cigarette. And he seems to be enjoying it very much, more than what's considered proper. Honestly, with the way he's been groaning, you wouldn't be surprised if he came on the spot just from the smoke. The thought makes your cheeks redden, and you chastise yourself for even thinking in that general direction, again. Has it really been that long?

- Shady Sands - smoke pushes past his teeth, surprisingly intact for a Ghoul.    - For real?

- Yup - another drag, you watch his chest expand under his coat - Shady Fucking Sands.

Your head slumps down, as you turn your gaze back to the fire. Hunger creeps up on you, and with your hands tied, you reach over to an Iguana on a stick roasting over the flames. Your tongue burns from the heat, but as soon as the chewy meat hits your stomach, you're ready to sing to the heaven's. 

- That's an awfully long way for a bunch of caps - you note, between quick bites of your food - What was my bounty? Five hundred?

The last time you've checked, it was something around that number. Not too shabby, but not worryingly big either. Just enough to keep you on your toes for any desperate newcomers, but not enough to warrant attention from anyone actually dangerous. The Ghoul, as desperate as he looked back at the bar, started to look more and more like a professional, every second you've spent with him. There was something in the way he walked, the way his eyes stayed vigilant and aware, that screamed danger. Still, for five hundred caps, times must've really been hard on him.

- Try ten thousand.

A piece of meat lodges itself into your throat as you inhale with surprise. As soon as it happens, you cough it out, and it flies back into the fire, leaving you heaving with tears in your eyes. 

- How much?! - you demand, hands trying to massage the pain in your chest. 

The Ghoul smirks, taps the brim of his hat with his gun, which he kept trained on you for over three days now. 

- Had I known I'm worth that much, I'd turn myself over a long time ago - you murmur, and the Ghoul shoots you a mirthless laugh.

- Thought you ran a charity, Healer - he spits your name out like the worst of slurs, and with half a mind you wonder why it bothers him so much. 

Still, his words hit a little bit too close to home, and you turn to your skewer, chewing in silence, until he gives you a wordless permission to sleep.  Tugging your messenger bag under your head, you listen to the various liquids sloshing inside, your Geiger meter cracking away on your hand. The Ghoul stands up to put out the fire, as cold was better than anyone finding you in the wilderness. Then, he sits down, a short distance from your curled up form. 

You can feel him, even if you can't see him, and with tired arms, you tug your robe closer around your body. 

- I try to be good - you whisper into the night, into the hot coals of the bonfire, into his unyielding indifference.

- You ain't gotta explain yourself to me, sweetheart - he answers in a low voice, and it's the nicest thing you've heard him say, since you've met him. 

***

The raiders come at night, as they always do.

You're still halfway into deep sleep when the first shot rings out. The bullet lodges itself into the ground right in front of you, dirt exploding across your face. It doesn't wake you at first, confusion and remnants of some distant dream muddling your senses. 

The Ghoul springs to action with record speed, and before you can truly react, he shoots three shots in the direction of the tree line. That's when you jump to your feet, ears ringing and head swimming with confusion. 

A man in a tattered blouse falls to the ground, right next to the small fire pit, ash flying into the air. You can see his blood seeping into the coals, but before you can react, The Ghoul grabs you by the shoulder, all but throwing you behind him, as he levels his gun in front of him. 

The ringing in your ears mixes with the wild beating of your heart, as you try to wrestle the panic into submission. The Ghoul's tattered coat whips itself across your ankles, and you've never wanted to be free of your binds as much as in this moment.

Silence. Complete, and utter silence engulfs the two of you, and you grab onto the bounty hunter's arm to steady yourself. His head turns in your direction for just a second. Eyes lock together, something flickers across his face, but it's gone before you can even begin to decipher the expression. 

- I'll check the parameter - he grumbles, and walks towards the closest tree. 

At first you don't even know how to voice your protest, as he all but ties you to the tree, securing his lasso, and consequently cutting off any means for you to escape. Like a wild dog, you're left there, watching him turn away in favor of walking into the trees. 

Panic rises in your gut, as you tug on the rope.

- Hey! - you whisper-yell after him, eyes searching for any more attackers - Don't you dare leave me here!

But he's already walking away, keeping himself low, his rifle tight in hand. A couple of steps into the tree line and he blends completely with the surroundings, like he belongs there, amongst the trees. Chest heaving, you double the efforts of freeing yourself, the rope digging painfully into your wrists.

Frustration quickly overcomes fear, and you kick out, the ash from the bonfire swirling around you like a cloud.

Then, a twig breaks somewhere behind you, and your blood freezes in your veins. 

***

Cooper moves through trees like he's one with the southern wind. 

His coat shuffles around his ankles, as he presses further into the tree line, more bothered by the small attack than he would like to admit. 

The bullet almost hit you. In the head no less. Ten thousand caps, gone in a second

He allowed himself to close his eyes for just a moment, barely a second, and it was all it took. When has he become so sloppy, he couldn't tell, but he supposed it had something to do with the way you looked like, when sleeping. 

So at peace, like this hard ground was the most comfortable bed in the world. Your cheek squished into your messenger bag, as if it was the softest of pillows. He wondered, what warranted such trust, such peace of mind, that you fell into deep sleep almost as soon as you closed your eyes. 

Did you really trust him that much?

A dangerous idea, he thinks. An idea he might've entertained centuries back, when he still had a nose and didn't look out onto this hell of a world through layers upon layers of cynicism. Still, your curled form tugged on something, some shadow of his former self, that he needed to squash sooner, rather than later. 

He was getting too damn old for this. 

Cooper finds the raiders camp in a matter of minutes. Two sleeping bags, a bunch of empty bottles and, to Cooper's dark amusement, a half-eaten human leg. 

So, not just raiders, but fiends as well. 

Cooper kicks at one of the sleeping bags, his eyes searching for anything of use. And that's when his mind catches up.

He hears your scream tear through air.

His head whips back, hat almost falling. 

A shot rings out.

Ten thousand fucking caps. He's an idiot, an old idiot. 

Cooper starts to run, branches snapping under his boots as he cuts through the trees with surprising agility. Another scream, raw and gut wrenching, and he can almost see your bloodied body twitching under the second fiend. The one he didn't get. 

Rifle first, he all but barrels into the clearing, for a split second not knowing what he's looking at. 

Because yes, there is a bloodied body in the camp, it's face barely resembling human features with the way it's been brutally eviscerated. But it's not yours. Too thin, too male, too hardened. 

That's when he sees you. Curled against the tree, where he tied you down and left you. Your hands are gripping some large stone, blood drips from your fingers, down to your arms. Your shoulders are moving, up and down, in a steady rhythm of deep, heaving breaths, and for a second, Cooper allows himself to feel relief. 

You don't even look at him, still holding onto the rock, nails biting into it's surface, and he can't clearly see your face, but he can see the blood. Your Geiger meter crackles, as he comes closer, kicking at the dead fiend, just to be sure. 

- We gotta get moving, there might be more of those fu-

His words die in his throat, because suddenly, something collides with staggering force onto his body. Landing on his back, he immediately lifts his arms up, to shield himself from bloodied fists, slamming into his chest, into his head, wherever they can reach. 

- You left me! - your voice sounds like a wounded animal - You motherfucker! Why did you leave me?!

There is no real force backing your punches, all your strength apparently drained by what you did to fiend just moments ago.. They do become quite irritating, and Cooper wrangles your, still bound, hands until he has your by the wrist. And that's when he sees you. Finally, truly sees you.

You're hunched over him, straddling his waist, hair whipping around your head like some deranged angel's halo. Features twisted into a mixture between fury and anguish, your face is red, sticky with drying blood. 

Beautiful, tragically beautiful, Cooper thinks, and this time doesn't chastise himself for it. 

- Why did you...?! - your voice cracks like a broken mirror - You're the one killing people, not me. I'm not... I've never...

Cooper fights through your spasming muscles, as slowly, your anger dissipates, leaving nothing but tears, which are now creating pathways down your cheeks. Finally, he understands. Your poise, your elegance, the gentleness in every movement. 

You've never killed anyone. Never taken a life. 

Unknowingly, he has made you into a killer. 

Shoulders sag against his hold, as you slump into him. He feels you, the length of your torso on his, your shallow breathing warming his shirt. And he lets you rest, lets you curl into him like he isn't worse than both of those fiends combined. Like he hasn't just put you through this hell, hasn't tied you up, dragged you through God knows where. 

- He... - you choke out, and Cooper curses at the way his hands slide around your back to hold you closer, tighter - He tried to...

- I know - he doesn't know what has possessed him, but he comforts you just the same - I know, sweet thing. I'm sorry.

Tears fall heavy onto his collarbone, as you let yourself be held. And he holds on with everything he has, deciding that perhaps, you both have some time left. Fingers trace the pattern of your curved spine, the dips between your shoulderblades. He dares not move lower, even though perhaps he wants to. Perhaps he would take advantage of this situation and try to find out just how much he can get away with. But some missplaced feeling of decency wrangles itself onto the surface, swallowing down all the murder, and the lies, and all the horribly depraved things he has thought about, while keeping you hostage. 

 It takes some minutes for you to calm down, and when you do, he pulls you up. Not the usual tug of the rope you're both used to, but a gentle hand in your hand, helping you steady yourself against him. The warmth of your body is all but a memory now, and he clings to it for just a moment longer, a souvenir for later. 

The silence is heavy with unsaid words, with actions that will have disastrous consequences. But as he unties you from the tree, as you look over at the bloodied body of the fiend, he finds that there are no words left to be said. 

So you swing your messenger bag over your arm, and let him lead you further into the Wasteland. No longer yourself, no longer the Healer, but something else entirely. 

[livelaughlovesubs]

Pitiful thing

Dom!reader x sub!Raphael (reader is gender neutral)

Part two!

!Warning! dark content (this is going to be disgusting), a bit gore (ripping wings!), sadistic reader, spit, vomit, dacryphilia, beating, biting, stepping, stomping, kicking, piercing (Rara is getting rid of an old one), anal play, sounding, slapping, use of sex toys, blood

Word count: 7.3k (my longest one yet)

Nini!rant: repost until it shows up in the tag…!

The accident which occurred during Christmas was long forgotten. For you it was a brief interaction, a short encounter and a meeting never meant to happen. It didn’t matter what happened to him, to that angel, because in the end what they did to you were worse. Maybe it wasn’t justified and you were being petty, since that angel in particular hasn’t done anything yet, but do you regret it? No. It was fun.

On the other hand, it left the other party pretty impressed, as if the event left a brand on him. That angel thought something was established between you two. A special treatment only he got, as if he became a higher being. It’s not that he caught feelings for you, it was for the act you did to him. Even though it’s a curse in disguise, since he is the sun that got attracted to the night.

Not even a month later that man came down to hell again, landing at the same spot as last time, searching for a certain someone. Just like playing catch, about him looking for that vivid dream he lived down here. How ironic, once was enough to get him hooked and addicted.

And destiny was playing a prank on you, unexpectedly bringing you two together again. Because as fate planned, you crossed that path on that specific day too. A huge dust cloud was spreading in front of you, hindering your sight. It took a while to make out the familiar shadow between the mist. You squint your eyes, no way he was back here again. However you weren’t displeased. Why should you get upset about something insignificant like this anyway.

“Someone out for revenge?” You remarked and leaned against one of the food stalls. The familiar figure turned around to face you, his bright blond hair appearing from behind the mist. “No, rather, I’m here to thank you.” He said, slowly his entire figure emerged from the dust. “That’s surprising, why so?” His words caught your attention, you didn’t expect it from him, an angel. “You helped me become a higher being, I guess it is curtesy that I show you my gratitude. So, I’ll give you permission to touch me.” Raphael said with a smug face. It’s unnecessary to mention that you were hella confused, what did he eat this time?

The angel also seemed a little confused now and added, “…shouldn’t you be grateful and happy?” Ah. So that’s what was going on in his head. “Hah, haha.” You giggled, and continued with, “become a higher being? Really? You angels are more arrogant than I thought.” Raphael didn’t let it get to him, all he did was muttering under his breath, “right, a human couldn’t possibly understand something as complex as this. Fine, I don’t care.” That’s what he said, but he did sound a little disappointed.

“Right… hey Raphael, just tell me if you want to fuck. I liked how you cried.” You were now the one with a smug face. Suddenly he grabbed your shoulder and shouted, “Don’t forget your place, you are just an insignificant creature, we angels are the only ones loved by god.” The grip was tight, it almost started to hurt, but you couldn’t stand how he tried to intimidate you, so you replied, “oh yea? And who is named gods only mistake?” That wasn’t smart, he had all reasons to kill you after all. But hopefully he won’t, after all you are the one that got him ‘closer’ to god. You are the only hint those annoying things have.

The Blondie seemed to struggle with making a decision, before giving up. “Damn it.” He sighed and pushed you away. “Woa, how friendly of you. Now I’m definitely not going to help you become a greater being.” “And what if I threaten to kill you?” “You can’t because you’ll still need me.” This wasn’t going anywhere, it’d be better to just separate. Right now all you two were doing was fighting like children.

“So what do I have to do to get you to help?” Raphael crossed his arms and acted coldly, still having that overly confident aura surrounding him. His halo with the little sun was also shining slightly, how it irked you. All angels were the same, overly confident, arrogant and a pain in the ass. Then something clicked in your head, even if their personalities are shitty, you were still able to have fun. “… actually, nothing, just don’t resist.” “What?” You didn’t explain yourself, instead walked closer to him, resulting in him backing up some steps too. “What are you-” “I told you not to resist.” Your hand reached out to him, holding him by his waist. “Ugh..!” He tensed up, you could tell he was hesitating on what to do, still looking for the best solution. But you ignored it, why should you care about his comfort anyway, he came to ask you to touch him after all.

The hand, which was on his hips moved to his back and groped his ass, while your other one started to cup his bulge. He pushed you away again, “You! How dare you do something like that!” “You said I got permission to do it.” “And? That’s why you aren’t going to warn me?” You rolled your eyes and turned around, about to go back to your home in hell. “If you don’t want to do it I won’t. I’ll be on my way now, what a waste of time.” “Wait!” He yelled again, with a half angry and half desperate tone. “I’ll do it, just- not here.” “Pff, everyone saw your body on Christmas anyway.” “Still, ugh, why are you so stubborn?!” “I’m leaving~” “alright alright!” Raphael hurriedly raised his shirt, biting the end of it to keep it raised, showing off his piercings. The two crosses on his chest waved, practically inviting you to touch them. A small smirk escaped you, “hah, so you can be a good boy after all.”

A few moments later you were touching him all over. He stood and kept his arms behind his back while you gave him a sloppy handjob. Hands wrapped around his shaft, pressing down slightly when reaching the tip and repeating the movements. Every time you did that he flinched, his shoulders jerked upwards and his piercings clanked against his skin. All those accessories on his body were cute, he was the definition of ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’. Not to mention his moans were adorable too, and how he blushed like a maiden fresh in love. Did he get more sensitive during that time span? At least that cock cage he once had was gone, guess he didn’t get a new one. “Hey, get on your knees.” “Hmmm?!?” He sounded like he was protesting, but you can’t hear so it doesn’t matter. In the end, he did just as you said, why would he go though the extra trouble to be a brat only to follow your comment anyway. After he got on his knees, he soiled his clean white pants with dirt, his cheeks got a bit redder too. Because he kneeled down, you couldn’t reach his crotch anymore, so you placed your hand on his chest instead.

Fumbling with his pink nipples, tugging on them carefully. Rolling your finger over them and groping his pecs. It was embarrassing for Raphael, it didn’t hurt nor felt especially good, it was humiliating. Every single part of this was shameful and he truly didn’t know what he was doing here. Though somehow, he still found pleasure in the pain you gave him, it was scary how much he enjoyed it.

His saliva drooled down his chin, all the way down to his white sweater. A wet spot could be seen and it kept getting bigger. His bangs were also sticking to his forehead due to the sweat covering his body, and not to mention how much he trembled. It was cute, you wanted more. You pulled at his piercings, enough for it to hurt slightly, watching as his buds stretched forwards. “Mhm-mmM!” The angel groaned, face blushing furiously while he clenched his teeth. Eyebrows furrowed and expression twisted into one of shame. If you didn’t know better you would have thought he was going to kill you any moment.

“I’m done, get up.” Just as how abrupt you started this play, you ended it too. That was so sudden, he couldn’t even process the information before your hands left his body. He let his shirt fall down and asked, “what? But…” then he bit his bottom lip, followed by standing up on his wobbly legs, unwillingly getting up from his spot. “fine, ugh..” the man in front of you looked like a mess, seriously, he couldn’t even stand without shaking. “You did pretty well, come back another time.” “..?? Why’s that?” “Don’t follow me.” You turned around and left, ignoring him as well as his questions. “Hey, hey! Come back- you, ugh, damn it!” That man’s frustrated screams were the last thing you heard.

Some time has passed since your second meeting with him. To be honest, you were surprised he actually listened to you and didn’t follow you. Nevertheless, that didn’t change much about your perception of him. You weren’t sure yourself why you left like that, however you were sure on one thing, it was a good decision to leave that day. He will come to you by himself sooner or later, and if destiny is still in your favour, everything will go just as you anticipated.

Today you were chilling outside a hotel. It feels nice being alone for a bit, or rather, not being in the presence of any clingy devils. You didn’t necessarily hate them, but you didn’t have hard feelings towards them neither. At first you thought it wouldn’t bother you that they all subconsciously thought you were Solomon, but it did start getting on your nerves. Also how they didn’t even want to accept the fact that you were someone else, not trying at all to adjust. They were also rather… controlling. It was hard enough to sneak out without Satan or sitri noticing.

Raphael didn’t have such a peaceful time like you, he was frustrated beyond repair. The first time you touched him he was at least able to finish, last time you left him with a raging boner. That must be the reason why he missed you so much, he wanted you to finish what you started. So when he finally found you, his heart skipped a beat. He immediately landed in the back alley of the hotel, quietly and carefully, as if one wrong move would cause you to run away.

You noticed him when he started to walk towards you, wondering when he got here. It’s the first time he didn’t make a mess as soon as he came down to hell. “You, you are free now aren’t you?” Raphael proclaimed, a stressed expression on his face. The past two weeks didn’t go well for him huh. “Yea, and?” “The thing you did last time, finish it.” You eyed him up and down, he could feel your sharp gaze on him, it made him almost uncomfortable. Once again he was making such a bold request. Oh well, you have some spare space in your schedule and playing with something else once in a while is healthy. “I’ll pretend I heard you say ‘please’, anyway, follow me.” “Where are you taking me?” “I thought you preferred doing it inside?” “I’m not a pervert like someone else after all.” How impolite he was, but you’ll excuse him for this once.

You greeted the reception as you got inside the hotel and walked straight to the elevator, Raphael followed you with hesitant steps before joining you. It was a bit awkward, especially for him since it’s an unfamiliar environment, you could see how he fumbled with his hand. Maybe he was wondering why none of the devils were suspicious of him, or if his presence really is that unnoticeable. It could have been something entirely unrelated too.

The two of you didn’t exchange a word while waiting, and it continued until both of you arrived at the vip room (a small advantage of being friendly with the kings) of the hotel. Afterwards you pulled out a room card and unlocked the door with a click sound, opening and entering it. “Close the door behind you.” You said, in case it wasn’t obvious enough. He did without much thought, and started looking around in the room. It was pretty and had a bathtub too, to be expected for vip. The bed was kingsized, it took up so much space but the room still looked huge.

You sat down on the bed, he stood in front of you. Then you commented, “you know, Raphael, you value yourself so much but how comes every time we meet it’s about intimacy? You are pretty desperate for an angel.” He didn’t show much of an expression, even so you could read his body language and saw his fist tightening. “It’s a bit ironic.” A small chuckle slipped from you after saying that, then you patted the space next to you, telling him to sit down. The angel obliged and walked over, when he got close enough you pulled him by the arm to force him to sit down.

Just like what happened a few days ago, you do what you want without any regards for him. Once he sat down, you pushed him again to make him lay flat on his back. He didn’t really resist since he knew he was stronger than you, and this time he wasn’t restricted by any weird powers. “Keep your hands above your head.” Another command, he debated silently whether he should keep playing obedient, but after seeing how you left last time… he really didn’t want to get worked up for nothing again. It’s always so thrilling and surprising when with you, because you do what you want and never tell him your plans. Though sometimes he thinks it’s better he doesn’t know.

Now that his arms were hold above him, you tied them together. Despite the fact that he has been good until now, you can never be sure about the future. “Hey, why are you tying me up again?” Raphael asked. “I didn’t tie you up during Christmas,” You clarified. “You know what I mean.” “I feel more comfortable like this, don’t want to?” Your eyes stared into his coldly, showing that you ain’t up for games. He wanted to protest further, however the thought of you leaving him like that was something he couldn’t make peace with. Not after all the efforts he went through to find you. He went quiet again until you were done binding him.

Next thing you did was pulling out the rather familiar ball gag, about to install it onto him again. The angel widened his eyes, were you planning to recreate the past with all those equipments or what? Did you pity the fact you couldn’t do more? When you brought the gag closer to his face, he reluctantly opened his mouth, letting you bind the straps around his head. After gaging him successfully, you pulled out a cutter knife, bringing it to his neck. His pupils shrunk, he glared at you menacingly. You dragged the knife along his neck, taking note of how his breath got more and more shallow with each passing second. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to kill you.” Yea, so reassuring, he feels so safe.

You grabbed his collar and pointed the sharp edge towards his shirt, afterwards you cut into his sweater. The knife was sharp enough to cut through the fairly thick fabric pretty easily. From the top to the bottom, until you split his clothes in two. He hold his breath the entire time, which was weird since normally he didn’t fear death nor wounds. A little blood was fine and he can take the pain, so why was he so nervous? It must be because of how stoic you were. You looked so chill and serious while you tore his clothes, keeping your attention on him and no one else. It’s the first time someone was focused on him like this, it was almost embarrassing, but he didn’t dislike it.

But you were thinking about how naive and cute he was, all you did was look at him for a few seconds and now his heart was pounding like crazy. It was way too easy to wrap him around your finger. Angels truly are useless and pitiful things. After you finished cutting through his clothes, you put the knife away. You only cut it in the middle, so that they were hanging from his shoulder like jackets. Since they were cut now, it revealed his bare torso. This is the third time that you’ve seen him in such a state. Those accessories he wore didn’t change one bit, still sparkling on their own. At this rate you were going to mesmerise every single one of them. Two vertical nipple piercings, two just below his chest, two on his navel which were connected by a chain, three belly button piercings and three rings a fairly large distance under his armpits on each side. He also had more, like two on his hips or some on his arms, but you weren’t entirely sure about it. Nevertheless you liked his piercings for many reasons.

This time you were better prepared for his sudden visit, so you had a whole bag full of stuff you wanted to try with him. The first one of those toys was a sounding rod, the same one he seemingly loved during Christmas Eve. Your hand made its way downwards and started rubbing against his bulge, gently caressing it until he got hard. Out of reflex he clenched his thighs, causing you to force them open to kept touching him. Small sounds of pleasure could be heard from him as he whimpered under the gag. “Mhm..mhm!” Those were only low grunts, you could see how he tired to keep his composure as long as possible. Next you pulled his pants down, revealing his semi erect dick. He was so eager it made you want to laugh, you didn’t even touch him that much but he still got hard. It was pathetic.

You took the metal rod and pointed the tip towards his slit before slowly inserting it. It hurt so much while you did it, it was unbearably painful. He wanted to move and clench his legs together again but you didn’t allow him, instead you said, “spread them wider, or I might pierce something I should’t.” With such a warning, he had no choice but to open them, reluctantly allowing you to play with him some more. His legs were trembling again as you forced the entire rod inside his urethra, tears started to build in his eyes. That was a bodily reaction to the sting and pain, since the metal wasn’t even wet when you shoved it inside him. “Hmm.. hgnG..” he yelped a little and jerked his hips, trusting forward. There was no helping it, it was so painful… yet why was he so aroused now?

After using that, you reached for another one of your toys, an egg vibrator. You strapped it against his tip, but didn’t turn it on yet. It was still the preparation process. Which is why you put one of the egg vibrator inside a condom, then pulled that over a dildo. This time you did reach for the lube, out of your own comfort, since the things you want to do will be harder without it. Squeezing some of that liquid onto the makeshift dick and pointing the tip against his entrance. The Blondie was on the verge of clenching his thighs together again, it took all his willpower not to. He was fearful of your treatment, however also thrilled. It’s like he loves and hates it, but most importantly he wants you to keep your attention on him. Don’t leave like last time, please don’t leave him alone.

While you were teasing his hole, you glanced at his figure. What he did was unbelievably adorable. How he made himself smaller by rolling into a ball, so helpless and vulnerable it got you acting on your desires. You did cover that toy with lube, but you didn’t prepare him. Instead you pushed and used your strength to force your way in again. “MhmMHH!!” Another scream. “Don’t be so tense, Raphael, it will only hurt more.” You gave him some advice, even though you were sure he knew himself. His chest raised and sunk, his breathing unsteady and eyes unfocused. Those almost emotionless eyes were half lidded and hidden by his bangs. This pulled your attention towards his bandages, especially that eye patch. You were going to rip it from his face one day.

His hands clenched around the rope you used to tie him up, legs wide open like he was some cheap whore and single drops of tears rolling down his face. The halo, which hasn’t been doing much until now, suddenly started to shine as if it was trying to distract you. You didn’t really mind at first, but the more you pushed that toy inside him, the more that ring of pure light shone. When the dildo fully penetrated him, his halo, that divine Symbole, was already illuminating the entire room. No need to say it blinded and annoyed you, leading to you hesitantly reached out to that thing. You touched it with the tip of your finger to make sure it wasn’t dangerous, before gripping it with your whole palm and yanking it off him. That wasn’t exactly hard to do, which kind of surprised you. You had an angels halo in your hand now… and it was still shining, which is why you threw it away.

Raphael’s expression was one of shock. Of course it would be that, no one ever ripped his halo off and he didn’t neither. It didn’t hurt, though it did feel like something disappeared from him, and his body got lighter. Well, all you did was throw it into another corner, so he can probably just pick it up later…right? Somehow, he was starting to get an unwell feeling about this, he was skeptical. He wanted to tell you how he felt about what you did or were doing, despite his wants he couldn’t, he couldn’t bring it over himself to tell you no. Besides this is nothing, he can bear it, all he had to do was to focus on you and pleasing you, then you’ll also keep your gaze on him. An eye for an eye right?

Everything was done now, your preparations were complete. You turned the vibrators on, directly skipping to the middle level. The eggs started to move and were rubbing against him. Even though he expected it made his shoulders jerk and dick twitch, it was still so sudden. One was placed on his tip and another deep inside him. “Hu-hmm…mhm.” Raphael panted. How amazing it felt at first, but the sensations and blood rush was becoming too much for him to handle. All you did was observe him for a few moments, then giving the relentless toys assaulting him a helping hand. Trusting the dildo in and out of him, other hand tugging at his piercings, mouth kissing his neck and eventually biting down. “NGhHnn… m-mhm..!” He sobbed a little when he felt your teeth sink into his skin. You bit hard enough to draw blood, and when you pulled back you were able to see the blood flowing down his shoulder to his collarbones and chest. The red fluid was giving a nice contrast to his smooth and pale skin, as if you were drawing on a white canvas. This was starting to stir something within you, out of impulse you used your finger to wipe the blood, then licking it clean with your tongue.

You bit him again and again, the area around his nipples, his other shoulder, his torso or abdomen. When you were done leaving bite or smooch marks on his upper body, you started kissing every of his wounds. Like his piercings or the ones you left on him. The vibe changed drastically, it felt soft and gentle in contrast to what you were doing earlier, making his heart pound faster. “Hmm…” a low content groan left him. What you did felt like it was forbidden to him, it felt like something two lovers would do. How he yearned for that, for any kind of love and touch this depraved man could get. At the same time he was so ashamed of his actions, how could- dare he enjoy the touch of someone who isn’t god? How could he even think about being in a relationship with anyone but god?

The vibrations were adding up with each other, especially the one on his tip. It was starting to hurt because of how sensitive he was. “Uhh..hu-ugh..” Once again he repressed his own feelings in order to keep you here with him. This however resulted in some squirming and trashing around to balance the pain. He rolled from one side to the other, irritating you a little. “Raphael, hold still.” You commanded, but he couldn’t listen, it’s like his body doesn’t want to follow him anymore. “MhHmm..! HmMm..” “Raphael.” You repeated his name, nothing happened. A silent minute passed, with his whines being the only thing that filled the room. Why was he acting up suddenly? Even though you tried to calm him down, he continued kicking around like he was riding the bike. Then you slapped him.

A loud sound erupted in the mists of complete silence, his face turned to the left side and an imprint of your hand started to show on his cheeks. “Uhh..!” He could still feel the sting of the moment you hit him, the aftermath also lingering for a few extra seconds. Eyes widened once again, a speechless expression featured on his face as he glanced at you. Another slap, this time his face turned to the right side. You haven’t uttered a single word yet, but you let out a deep breath. A few moments of silence again, now his eyes were completely hidden by his bangs, you couldn’t tell what he was looking at. What a coward, hiding his gaze like that, it was staring to get on your wrong side.

You punched his stomach, making the angel gag. It didn’t hurt that much, aside from the fact he felt like the food he ate was being forced out of him. For you though, it didn’t quench your anger, instead you were more annoyed now because the piercings he owned were in your way. You grabbed the chain and yanked on it hard, he yelled which was muffled by the gag again. “MhmmM!” You pulled on it again, now blood was dripping from where he pierced them. He moved his body, trying to escape before he froze on the spot. As if a hidden force was hindering him from just running away. And you tugged at it a third time, this time you managed to pull the entire chain off, running his piercing. “GaHHhh!! MHmMM!!” It hurt, it hurt so much and yet he still weren’t able to get on his feet. Was this some kind of trial god gave him?!?

A bit of his skin was stuck to the accessory, with that being said it got ripped off too. He was bleeding from his navel now, and that wasn’t exactly a small amount. It spilled down from all sides, turning his body and the bed red. “Uh-UhmM..!” A shudder ran down his spine at the sight of it, he was always covered in blood but never his own. His eye brows furrowed and pupils quivered, a small blush spread across his face. This was new, and arousing to some degree. It made him forget about the pain completely.

You took a look at the chain and threw it away, it looked disgusting all covered in blood and skin pieces. Also since the bed was red now you didn’t want to sit on it, instead standing up and stepping on his belly. “Huh, you are bleeding a lot more than I thought. It’s my first time I hurt someone to this degree.” Were you truly human? You said it’s your first time, but you looked so used to seeing blood, you didn’t even get nauseous from the look of it. He didn’t know what to do, all that happened was a deep blush forming on his cheeks, tears flowing down his face and blood storming through his new wounds.

You used more force to step on him, digging your shoe into his skin. The dirt which collected itself under your soles were now smeared onto his once beautiful skin. The imprint of your shoe looked nice on his helpless figure, just like the other marks you left on him. Then you started to raise your foot and stomp on him, enough for him to get the urge to vomit. “Ugh- ga-hghn…!” But the gag is in the way, if this continues he will just chock on his own vomit. He clenched his eyes, focusing on forcing it down. Of course that didn’t go unnoticed, you didn’t give him permission to close his eyes now did you? This led to you kicking the side of his head fairly gently, before stepping on his cheek. “Don’t pass out, I’m not done yet. The fun just began.” You smirked at him while you said that. A unsettling one at that, you could basically see the bad intention in it. Your expression just screamed ‘sadist’.

Finally you took the ball gag off him, he gasped and panted loudly. It didn’t take long for him to start chocking again due to you stomping on his stomach repeatedly. More tears spilled from him, his body wasn’t reacting well to your treatment. Why, was it because you were a human? He yanked on his binds, wanted to use his hand to cover his mouth. It was of no use, he was worn out now after such a long session. He couldn’t hold it back anymore and threw up all over himself. His entire figure was pulsating, lips quivering as he sobbed, then another round. This time it wasn’t just vomit but also blood. “Ah- urghh.. gahhh..” This was a huge burden on his body, making him nauseous and dizzy.

Your heart was beating fast, you wondered if sitri has located you yet with such a loud heartbeat. His pathetic face and posture was surprisingly beautiful, it felt so good watching him crumble underneath your feet. Rendering him powerless and dependent on your mercy felt great… how good would it feel if this was Gabriel instead who was suffering? The one responsible for your misery, to see him completely destroyed just like this. It sounded too delicious, so good you couldn’t keep a clear head anymore. You couldn’t help yourself! It’s his fault that he is an angel, it’s his fault he is of the same breed as Gabriel! You kicked him and kicked him again, bruising his body all while smiling with a content face. Swellings and dark spots were forming on that once flawless body. The more your view got blurred by red, the more you couldn’t separate him from your hatred. Oh well, you never claimed you were innocent anyway.

The beatings continued for some minutes, paired with random insults you wanted to throw at Gabriel. Looks like your anger got to your head. “Fucking whore, you think you are so much better than everyone else? You damn disgrace to your own race. God disappeared because of useless insects like you..!” Another kick, then you stomped on his chest, “fuck, I hate you Gabriel I hate you. It’s all your fault I’m like this, damn it.”

After calming down from your sudden outburst, you panted heavily. Now this was what you needed, a punching bag to vent your anger to. Your eyes fixated on him and only him, anything else didn’t matter anymore. Maybe you’ll get a complaint from the owner, but what are they gonna do, you were way more important than them.

Even though the ball gag wasn’t there anymore the angel beneath you didn’t scream a single time, the vibrators also weren’t turned off. All he did was gasp or whine while crying quietly. “Hic… hah..ha-haaa…” He didn’t cry due to the pain and torture, it was something else not even he understood. He smiled as he cried, watching you being so fixated on him you almost forgot to breath. His body looked like a war, or as if he tripped over paint with how many blue, purple or brown spots were spread on his skin. Not to mention all that red, even the tips of his once blond hair were dyed crimson now. The overwhelming smell of blood was filling your nostrils. Normally you weren’t a fan of that, however right now it didn’t bother you.

His wrists has bruises from the binds, his legs still twitched once in a while because of the toys and his stomach looked disturbing. As mentioned beforehand, bruises, bites and blood were present, also his vomit and cum made itself clear. There were other unidentified things mixed up in that toxic venom too, maybe some dirt and sweat. You didn’t care enough to try to figure it out though. It was damn disgusting how everything dripped down his body onto the mattress, and the smell was starting to get overwhelming. Not because of the blood but the other things. Nevertheless it felt good, knowing you’ll be the fall of him.

In the midst of this messy, unorganised situation, you hugged him. Currently unbothered by the fact that all the dirt and filth will get on your clothes too. You finally turned off the vibrators and took the toys out of him, an inaudible moan slipped from his lips as you did that. “Ah-..hng…” his wrists were bound together, but he was still able to move them, so he wrapped his arms around your neck. Raphael was holding onto you so tightly it was addictive. How would he react if you suddenly left like last time? Would he cry out in despair? Ah, that face must be really pretty…

He tried to hug you even tighter, probably using all his strength, despite that fact it felt like nothing. You really wore him out, enough for a seraphim to become this inexcusable disgrace. It must have been the stress building up inside you for the past few months, the stress of dealing with your harsh reality which led you to do such inhuman things to him. Who cares though, you were in hell already you can’t fall even deeper.

How he clung to you so desperately, how he whispered your name with that meek voice of his, it made you want to ruin him more. You cupped his cheeks, and pulled his eyepatch down. His hidden eye was a little bruised, maybe from a fight otherwise nothing special. How you wanted to pluck his eyeballs, they were so pretty after all. Raphael looked up at you with big eyes and shaky breath, as if he was expecting something. You kissed his forehead gently and slowly made your way over to his earlobes, now licking them with your tongue. The angel still had that pink blush covering his face as he enjoyed the first fluff moment he received since his creation, shuddering a tiny bit whenever you touched or caressed him. Then you whispered:

“you are so miserable it’s funny.” He didn’t have the strength to really answer you, so he just turned his head towards you. The confusion in his eyes were really noticeable. “Angels are so delusional and depraved, I have to hold back my laughter.” After saying that, you chuckled into his ear, “you’re such a crude and vulgar being, at this point I don’t even think you qualify as an angel. If there anything about you that says ‘graceful’ and ‘divine’? I think not judging by the state you are in.” You made sure to take little break between each sentence, so that he had time registering what you said. In the meantime you’d blow hot air against his ears. “Not even god wants you, you are a mistake, a flaw that shouldn’t exist.” He tensed up after hearing all that, shoulders now raised to his ears. You were clearly degrading him and making fun of him, so why was he so dazzled by your voice? As if you were hypnotising him, is there anything he could do in this situation?

“Don’t even try to hide it, you are unwanted. Isn’t it such an honour that I’m still willing to spend my precious time with you?” You said, still grinning from ear to ear. Then you used your fingers to force his eye open, whispering agin, “Hey, Raphael, you don’t deserve happiness. Please be unhappy a lot, so that I can be happy.”

“…what?” He seemed a bit confused, clearly finding it hard to come to terms with what you said. How could he anyway? He really didn’t want to believe your words, yet they sounded like a prayer, like a prophesy that was deciding over his fate. “You are all alone with no one to depend on. You are disposable and worthless. I’m the only one you have.” It felt like needled were poking at his heart, no, they were stabbing it. His head was empty, only the words you uttered were ringing in his ears. “Why don’t you come down to hell, heaven is too good for you. You don’t deserve that, just like how you don’t deserve your position.” Your voice was calm the entire time, though it somewhat drifted into being exited. Raphael thought about it and asked in a weak voice, “what is it you want me to do…?” “Your wings, I want them. Show me your wings.”

“…” silence. He didn’t hear anything. Then a beeping noise rang in his ears, unwilling to leave him alone. “Ah, ah.. ugh- ah, hah..haha…” he laughed. His body shook as he did. All he thought was, ‘god, what should I do?’ A wave of nausea washed over him, as if his brain was being cooked. “That’s sick, you know the wings are an angels pride? It’s a gift from our beloved god!” “Exactly, you don’t really deserve that now do you?” Ah… does he really have to answer that question? You knew the answer to it anyway. His heartbeat went faster, the urge to puke came back and he felt sick. He felt horrible, downright awful. It was becoming unbearable, that empty void he tried so hard to escape from, that he desperately tried to fill was eating him alive from the inside. He was so deep in thought so that saliva was running down his chin again, adding onto the turmoil.

You hugged him tighter, whispering in a low voice again, “poor thing, such a pitiful thing you are. It’s better to be at rock bottom than fighting for something you’ll never have. Even if god comes back he wouldn’t look at you, you are way too insignificant.” You caressed his cheeks again, showing him a comforting smile which hid your internal motives. “Shut up..” he trembled, “shut up, shut up, please, shut up… stop, stop it- please, stop, stop, stop it…!” He clawed at your shirt, making himself even smaller and curling into a ball.

It was too much. He doesn’t want this anymore. The best would be if he couldn’t feel and think, if he didn’t need to do anything. All he wanted now was to live comfortably, and the only comfort he could find was arching in pain by your hands, while being comforted by the same ones. You were filling that void inside him with poison, and he’d gladly eat every last drop.

Slowly he spread his wings, two pure white things appeared from his back and white feathers started flying around the room. He pressed his face into the crook of your neck, something he was never done with anyone before. Hah, he has never even hugged anyone until now. You reached for his wings, rubbing the base and wrapping your hand around his wing bones, the other one was stroking his hair. How did Michael rip those off so easily? Doesn’t matter, you don’t have to make it pretty. While Raphael clung to you like his life depended on it, you brushed your fingertips over his soft feathers. They really are too good for him, maybe you’ll try and get a clean cut to gift them to andrealphus. He’d love them.

Suddenly something snapped, you could feel it due to the shift of strength. He bit down on your shoulder even more, enough to leave a mark on you too. The most of his voice got muffled by your shoulder. His on the other hand convulsed and trembled. Ah.. it hurts, it hurts.. but it’s worth it, it’s worth it, that’s what he kept telling himself.

“Easier than expected.” You muttered under your breath. It was impossible to pull the entire wing and bones off, which is why you had to break the bones. Raphael was still clenching his teeth and bearing the pain while you started to work on the second one. At this point your hands were completely red, the feathers were also tainted red. More blood stormed out from the newly opened wound, it made everything even more chaotic and bloody than it already was. His shirt, which you cut open earlier, was also no longer white. He was covered in red from head to toes.

The second time went a bit better than the first, because now you had ‘experience’. It was fun. The sound of bone shattering and breaking, the feeling of flesh tearing from under your palms and seeing how much you could do with your own hands. A soft and gentle smile made itself apparent across your face. Raphael screamed in agony, crying, shaking and smiling as he did. He doesn’t even know why he is smiling. Has he finally lost his mind? It’s not a bad feeling, but it is confusing. Haha.

Now that you took everything from him he looked no different than a normal human. Or rather like a hurt animal depending on you. At the rate he was bleeding, he was going to bleed out, yet all you two did was hug each other for different reasons. Somehow both of you didn’t care, you only assured him with, ‘I’ll take you to lucifer’s hospital after this,’ as you kept fumbling with his now red hair. It’s the first time you ever got to enjoy yourself like this, you weren’t going to ever let him go now. Who knows, next time it might be Gabriel whose wings you are holding in your palms. After all, it’s not enough to just keep the bird in a cage, you need to break its wings and keep it shackled, only then it will truly belong to you.

[alittlebitofloveliness]

Johnny Cade fic

Sometimes, keeping secrets is necessary.

For all the gang is close, close as brothers- sometimes closer than that if Soda and Steve’s weird dynamic is anything to judge by- Johnny knows that some things are best kept between two people, three in some situations, or guarded closely to oneself when a secret is more shame than anything more. It’s why he and Dally patch each other up so often and leave the others out of it, Dally with his warlike ways and gritty survival, him with his stupid broken heart and the bruises it earns him. It’s easier he thinks, to keep that sort of sharing and vulnerability for two people instead of seven, just like it’s easier for Darry to only ever truly talk to Two-bit, and for Soda to haul Steve out for a drag race when he shows up on the Curtis’ front porch with cold eyes and yet another bloody lip. Not everyone needs to know everything. Some things are best kept between a few folks, and if those things are named secrets, well, so be it. It would do more harm than good for Darry to find out what Pony says when he’s ranting to Johnny, and Dal never needed to know half the things Johnny and Darry did to get him out of scrapes he never even realized he’d gotten himself into. 

Another thing Johnny knows about secrets: some are more important than others. Knowing the nickname Steve’s mom used to call him is a far less important secret than the real reason Dal left New York, but Johnny keeps any and every secret entrusted to him locked up tight behind layers of stubbornness that could rival Pony in even his most pigheaded moods. He learned a long time ago that loose lips sink ships- and he couldn’t live with himself if something he knew and let slip ever ended with one of the gang getting hurt. Hell, he can hardly stand to live with himself now.

“Stupid grease,” For a second Johnny thinks the insult is being tossed at him, but when he looks up the soc- some asshole with the dumbest fucking haircut Johnny’s ever seen- doesn’t appear to have even noticed he’s rounded the corner as he grumbles to the rest of his buddies all dressed in letterman jackets and combover hairdos, “can’t believe some greaseball kid thinks he can work with my girl.”

“Least the kid is smart,” a guy with a yellow madras shirt Johnny recognizes from his own C level english class says. Johnny had thought he was dumb as a post before he’d been sat next to the guy. Compared to goldie he was fucking Einstein himself, “I got stuck with Rosie. Dumb bitch wouldn't recognize her own face in a mirror.”

Look who’s talking, Johnny thinks, fully intending to keep minding his own business. Socs pissed off and planning to jump a greaser kid was nothing new in the halls of Tulsa high, and he wasn’t planning to stick around and find out which unlucky guy was gonna be the latest target of the football team. Maybe they’d be stupid enough to go after Curly Shepard again and get their asses handed to him. Johnny fucking hates Curly shepard, but even he has to admit the guy is a straight up beast in a fight. Real tuff.

“Doesn’t mean I’m gonna let some freshman grease named after a damn horse chat up my girl.” The soc with the ugly haircut sneers, “we’re gonna teach that kid a lesson. Lawson says the kid’s on the track team, so we’ll catch him when he’s done practice so the coach don’t go looking.”

The soc keeps talking, joking with his buddies, probably describing in vivid detail how he’s planning on beating up Johnny’s best friend- his thirteen year old best friend- into a pulp. Johnny can’t hear it anyway- not over the roaring in his ears.

Steve is cursing and fighting with his combination lock when Johnny finds him just outside the science wing, his carefully gelled hair a stark contrast to his grease stained t-shirt. For all the dark cloud of his mood is nearly visible, Johnny still can't help but feel bad for him. Soda had officially dropped out just over a month ago and Steve was still taking it mighty hard. He kind of understood- Steve didn’t have a ton of friends besides the gang, and with Evie skipping half the week and Soda working full time, Steve's social circle at school had shrunk to near zero. 

“We got a problem,” Johnny tells him without preamble, and there’s a grim determination in Steve’s eyes when he turns to him, nodding and following him down the hallway without a word. Besides his gruff but unflinching loyalty, one thing about Steve that Johnny appreciates is that, like him, Steve feels no need for meaningless pleasantries. 

As they stalk through the halls, no doubt looking like they mean business if the way socy girls and a few fresh men give them a wide berth is anything to judge by, Steve doesn’t ask questions, no doubt knowing that Johnny will explain everything as soon as they track down Two-bit. 

“Two,” Steve barks as soon as they spot him, flirting with a pretty blonde who’s rolling her eyes but moving closer to him just the same, “let’s go. We got a problem.”

He must be able to tell he’s serious because he gives the blonde a final leer and joins them immediately.

“What’s goin’ on? I’d nearly talked her into lettin’ me take her to the Dingo on Saturday.”

“There’ll be other girls for you to disappoint sexually,” Steve rolls his eyes, “but Johnny says we got a problem right now.”

He turns to Johnny expectantly.

“I overheard some socs earlier talkin’ ‘bout Ponyboy,” Johnny starts. Both older boy’s eyes darken, comprehension dawning. This isn’t the first time one of them overheard some soc planning to give Pony a good jumping and Johnny doubts it’ll be the last, just like he knows it won’t be the last time he, Steve, and Two will fight them off before they can so much as breathe wrong in pony’s direction. Of all the secrets he keeps Johnny thinks this might be the most important, and he thinks Two and Steve feel the same way. Darry and Soda worry about Pony enough as it is, they hardly need to be terrified about him getting beat up at school too; and Pony would never forgive them fighting his battles for him. Hell, if he ever found out he’d probably pick a fight with a soc on purpose just to prove he’s tough. He still don’t get it, that he’s tough enough already for all he likes his books and movies and stuff. Not many folks can go through what Pony’s gone through and not lose a piece of themselves that Pony has kept spectacularly, miraculously, intact.

 “Said they were plannin’ on jumpin’ him after track practice,” Johnny continues, “it was some guy with a dumb haircut, and that guy I sat with in english last year. Mark somethin’?”

“Bradshaw, I think,” Steve spits, “Sounds like him and Ian Cosegrove. They were in my history class last year, and they’d probably be in Pony’s english class now he’s been moved up. One of them has that real dumb haircut?”

“That’s them.”

Two bit cracks his knuckles,  “Let’s go.”

It’s not hard to track the socs down from where they’re hanging out on the hood of some flashy mustang Johnny wished he could steal. It also isn’t hard to beat the two of them to a pulp, and their buddy who joined in too, because for all they’re football player they aren’t greasers, and they aren’t filled with the sort of fiery rage that’s coursing through Johnny’s veins, and Two-bit and Steve’s too.

Sure, no one was allowed to mess with anyone in the gang, but that went double for Ponyboy. None of them would ever be right again if anything happened to the kid, and they all knew Darry probably couldn’t survive it. Hell, Soda couldn’t either, 

Later that day, after Steve has waited around an hour to drive he and Ponyboy home just in case, Johnny hides his swollen knuckles in his jacket pockets and tucks this latest fight close to his chest, another secret best kept to himself.

He’d never have it any other way. Steve and Two wouldn’t either. The Curtis’ looked out for them all- it was only right they return the favour whenever and however they could.

Johnny listens to Pony and Steve argue, watches Two light up a cigarette, and smiles.

It’s no secret it’s tough sometimes to be a grease. But he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

[adambja]

Basically I am gonna be direct I am always direct in everything

basically I am gonna do the silva method 2 yes I entered the void state before it was somehow by the help of myself (my subconscious mind) and @rosellesworkshop she really helped me a lot

And..... the first void state story is here

I didn't post anything about what I manifested but basically I typed everything on my google notes and I put an affirmation "I have everything on my void list" and I affirmed in my void state it was pretty easy but such a vivid experience it's so special so peaceful to me but at the same time it was just normal because that peaceful vibe I have been always feeling it my whole life because of my self-concept

what I manifested I can literally say everything but it's almost a lot of things it would take me 2 hours to say it all but gonna make it simple because someone messaged me here asking if it's life-altering?

Yes entering the void state and manifesting in general is life-altering but it isn't that special like it's normal you have been manifesting everything your whole life based on your thoughts your imagination and your feelings also I felt that I am worthy of entering it and manifesting thru it because i just want it and why wouldn't I be worthy of it? No damn reason so yeah I deserve all my manifestations and I deserve to feel good about myself my worth is literally the whole universe with all the people and everything in it

Let me make it so clear

I am gonna do something like getting the limiting beliefs I saw here + the ones I didn't have out and flip it

Basically

Astrology-planets-saturn-saturn in retrograde-mercury-mercury in retrograde doesn't stop me from entering my void state / Astrology-planets-saturn-saturn in retrograde-mercury-mercury in retrograde doesn't stop me from waking up in my void state / Astrology-planets-saturn-saturn in retrograde-mercury-mercury in retrograde can't stop me IT CAN'T

religions doesn't stop me from entering my void state/ religions doesn't stop me from waking up in my void state / religions can't stop me (in fact everything about LOA in every damn religion but people can't simplify every word to understand it fully in every book of the three religions I read QURAN I read THE BIBLE I even read THE TORAH) - I am not religious at all HEY DEAR MUSLIMS Law Of Assumptions isn't haram and Law Of Assumptions isn't shirk at all it's about changing yourselves which is the self which is halal in Islam as their god says it all in here so Dear Muslims wake up and realize your own religion and understand (not just read) your own book I am not even Muslim and I know more than y'all HOW DARE YOU PUT YOUR FELLOW MUSLIMS IN THE DARK when it's actually all there in YOUR QURAN anyways NOW Hey Dear Christians lets get to the bible it's all in here and FINALLY Hey Dear Jewish People almost every part of the torah is full of self-concept Jewish people will understand what I mean and the answer about LOA is here

the void state is real it's me not the void state isn't a place outside of me

Everything/everyone outside of me isn't real everything/everyone is defined by me

My subconscious mind is always helping me and loving me

Nothing from my new self-concept can be deleted damaged destroyed erased or removed or even gone because i did anything wrong when actually nothing is wrong or right it can't be deleted damaged destroyed erased or removed or even gone

Everything lasts forever btw but you don't have to attach to it or control it just let it be what you want

Time isn't real every process is instant in every reality such as entering the void is already instant for me

Just let every thought go you don't have to even do anything to it or flip it just let it be breathe then after a while think ABOUT the reason you have that thought

I am in control of what version I am and of who I am and of what I want to experience and of how I want to experience it!

Assume success as it happened period

I am ALREADY CALM AND COMFORTABLE I JUST live and trust my own subconscious because I know it's just giving me what I want why? I already reprogrammed it to do it I already know it listens to me I already know it loves me too I already know it is me WHO DECIDES ALL THIS! MY SUBCONSCIOUS MIND IS A PART OF ME NOT ANOTHER PART of something that's away from me

Everything i want is meant for me why would i even think about it In the first place?? Because it's already mine

LET IT GO it's easier

I assume that i already got it

i assume that my void state is already mine I can do what I want with it THE VOID IS MINE ITS ME I AM MINE EVERYTHING I WANT IS MINE EVERYONE I WANT IS MINE NO ONE CAN STOP ME

Nothing is actually hard it's MY choice to CHOOSE MY OWN DESTINY AND I CHOSE THAT EVERYTHING IS EASY

The void state isn't hard the void state is easy

The void state isn't your imagination at all it's just you with a deeper sense of self aka it's a deep mediative state

My subconscious mind always accepts everything I want instantly

my subconscious is always listening until i die and my subconscious always makes everything I think of and say or affirm as true

My subconscious mind doesn't have an opinion of me

My subconscious mind is just like a bitch who gives me what I want instantly no matter what and my subconscious mind is so smart my subconscious mind always has a way of making things happen magically period

My conscious mind is full of my good affirmations and my perfect self-concept and just like a bitch AS MY SUBCONSCIOUS MIND

My feelings are stable and I feel safe everywhere with everyone and within myself

The void state is for everyone not for a specific amount of people or like a chosen people it's for everyone

The void state is life-altering

I am the god of my reality forever

I don't have to control anything outside of me i am in control of myself and that's enough because it's all me nothing exists outside of me

Delusional?? I call it imaginative and the imagination is the core of the reality I always love living in my imagination

I am not gaslighting myself - I am not even lying to myself I feel like I am saying the truth to myself because my subconscious always accepts everything I say and think about as true I don't even have to worry about anything!

spirituality doesn't matter calmness and breathing and focusing on nothing and the self matters more than anything

The old story is old let it go the new story is actually who i am so I would call it my current story

My chakras are already aligned and open my chakras can't be blocked or closed

I am already aligned and ready for everything I want

I am already what I want to be instantly

I am love my heart chakra is open I feel love

My desired reality is already mine

I always claim everything as mine because it is mine and my subconscious mind always makes it as true and I am fearless and I know so well I already have it inside of me in my imagination and outside too aka (everything I want is already mine)

There isn't anything such as blockages lmfao bruh I already don't have blockages period

Law of assumptions is assuming that the thing i want is already here with me and I already got it also assuming i already have that perfect self-concept i already have everything I want I already entered my void state instantly easily and effortlessly the same thing with everything you already have your sp or whatever you want

I just focus on controlling what is inside of me and as a result the outside already changed as my thoughts changed and my feelings changed

I can and I always enter my void state/wake up in my void state in any room in any house in any place and at anytime even if it's after midnight I am always able to do what I want because I want to do it

My body is already ready to wake up in my void state / My body is already ready to enter my void state - My mind is already ready to wake up in my void state / My mind is already ready to enter my void state

I don't give anyone my energy or my power and my energy is mine and my power is mine and no one can take my power/my energy from me finally I can't give anyone my energy or my power

I can't give anyone my own self-concept because they don't deserve it it's mine and I deserve it more than anyone because I worked for it I affirmed for it I listened to tapes for it so it's mine no body deserves it even if I love them they don't deserve my self-concept

I always focus on myself and helping myself only I don't have to help others at all helping others isn't my purpose in life forever in every reality helping others isn't good if it takes my time away

Everytime I talk about any manifestation of mine that it already happened to anyone it already happened and it was instant no matter what and telling anyone my manifestations can't stop my manifestations from happening because it already happened and because that's what I want period and my manifestations can't be damaged and my manifestation can't be destroyed and my manifestations are already protected by me and my smart subconscious mind

To understand #46 better WATCH THIS

What is the lesson from #46? Don't be like Cher when she let Tai have her moment and that made cher feel unwanted and unpopular LISTEN STAND UP GIRLS AND GUYS REMEMBER WHO TF ARE YOU YOU MADE THIS THING/PERSON/WHATEVER THAT BIG YOU CAN MAKE THING/PERSON/WHATEVER NOTHING AGAIN IT'S A CHOICE! DON'T EVEN PUT YOURSELF IN A SITUATION LIKE THIS NO ONE DESERVES WHAT YOU HAVE BUT YOU PERIOD YES HELP THEM YES GUIDE THEM BUT NEVER LET IT BE ON YOU! cause they are nothing but assumptions in your subconscious mind period!

I guess I said everything but another question think with me

If you can memorize that memory from your far past how can't you enter your void?? Ofc you can

Assume that you entered it everytime you slept all those years since you were born but you were just unaware now you are aware of it period and wake up there I tried it many times after manifesting my void list it's simple, easy also i understand and realize that my subconscious mind is always listening until i die and my subconscious always makes everything I think of and say or affirm as true and basically use the breathing that @gorgeouslypink put as a technique which is Wim Hof technique it's A M A Z I N G

So I am gonna try the silva method because I made another void list to manifest it thru my void state again but I just wanna try another way to enter and I always wake up in my void state everyday btw because it was written in my first void list it's all for fun now nothing else

Read "my void doc" by @rosellesworkshop

Read this and this by @gorgeouslypink

It might seem so simple and that's seriously it

That's the void state it's simple as hell but some people here and on Twitter just complicate it because of their own feelings and this brings us back to 1.how you breathe daily and 2.your self-concept add to those two things 3.emotional intelligence which is basically choosing your own feelings period!

Have fun with the silva method I bet it already works because everything always works for me instantly!

I know thanked u a lot but thank you again Rosie and everyone @rosellesworkshop @gorgeouslypink @littlemissprettyprincess @angelria111 @voidbaby111 y'all are amazing seriously everything y'all posted helped me in my journey generally

also seeing success stories from @voidsuccess @voidsuccessarchive was very helpful to me I defined all the points ABOUT what did those people who entered or woke up in the void state have and I started defining it as me and as WHO I AM NOW! And I Just Said "That's Me Now" and that's was a change of state inside of me you can check law of states too ;)

Happy pride month to the LGBTQ+ - Y'all are loved

And y'all have a great day/night depends on y'all's time zones GOODBYE!!

Update: I already entered using it too it was too easy I entered while doing it 😭😭

Also like I already wake up in my void state everytime I nap/sleep so basically it was too simple and easy for me

[ltbarnes]

‘Tis the Damn Season

Stark U #6

Summary: It’s Christmas Eve, you’re too drunk, you’ve basically avoided Bucky and Steve for six months and the last person you’d want to meet at this party just happens to be yelling in your face. The panic attack is inevitable, really.

Pairing: college!Steve Rogers x reader, college!Bucky Barnes x reader, college!Sam Wilson x reader, college!Natasha Romanoff x reader

Word count: 7.8k

Warnings: so much angst, past SA, alcohol, talk about violence, Christmas celebrations, things finally start to happen, kissing :)

A/N: Happy holidays to anyone who celebrates and to those who don’t, I hope you have a good few days anyways <3 This is the first I’ve posted since July which is awful of me so sorry

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

You didn't see them all summer. The day after your last exam was over, you bolted back to your hometown and spent the entire summer selectively ignoring messages from Bucky and Natasha and Steve and Sam asking what you were doing and how your summer was going and maybe you could all meet up and go somewhere and—

It's December now, and every goddamn day since June you have been trying to figure out if what Bucky said to you when you were sick was a fever-induced hallucination or if he really, actually, said that he wanted you to take his last name someday. It made you panic, because the entire spring term you tried to convince yourself that your feelings towards them were batshit crazy and any inkling to them feeling the same was a delusional reach, grasping for crumbs that in reality were just friendly gestures. And then he says that.

"She's just practicing her future last name, Stevie."

So, yeah...things have been weird. Three months have passed since classes started and none of you want to mention what happened right before summer break. Actually, with each day passing you feel more like maybe it was just a hallucination or a very vivid dream, because both Bucky and Steve act like it never even happened. Bucky even had his mouth latched onto some blonde sophomore at a dumb, stupid frat party on Halloween. You went home right after and cried for two hours. But it's not hard to conclude that even if there was some spark or connection or anything beyond friendship with either of them before summer, it has died out completely.

The subject will probably never be broached. You're too scared of confrontation and definitely too scared of revealing unreciprocated feelings for that to happen. The slightly tense atmosphere in the loft is entirely your fault—your lack of communication with anyone in the group during the summer has made them a little confused, you guess. You mostly spend time in your room, giving excuses of studying and talking with parents on the phone and 'I'm just tired, sorry'.

Spending too much time with Natasha scares you too, because she reads you so well and you don't want her to know how hurt and unhappily in love you are. She'll try to do something about it and then Steve and Bucky will catch on and then you will end up rejected and labeled as crazy, because who the fuck falls in love with two people?

That doesn't mean you've managed to avoid her. Living in the same apartment as her definitely makes that hard, but just the fact that she won't let you makes it impossible. Last week she even broke into your room when you had it locked, because apparently she knows how to pick a lock open in under ten seconds. She absolutely knows something is off, but so far she hasn't brought it up.

Natasha is the sole reason why you're now standing in the backyard of some rich kid's house just off campus, surrounded by smoke from cheap cigarettes and fairy lights hung up between the trees and one too many shots of vodka in your blood. It's December utterly and thoroughly—there's snow on the ground but people still haven't accepted the fact that wearing their short dresses and tank tops without jackets does not work anymore. Ice drops hangs from the tree where you stand, listening to Natasha talk with a drunken girl looking for her phone.

It's fun, sure. Not the worst party you've been to and not the best either. You talked to the girl you've been sitting next to in History class earlier for almost twenty minutes. Got free vodka. It's Friday and you don't have any exams to study for. None of that makes you forget that things aren't the same.

"Nat. Nat." You poke her shoulder repeatedly, obnoxiously probably, until she glances over her shoulder with a slight glare.

"What is it?"

"I'm gonna get 'nother drink. Inside," you tell her, pointing with your thumb towards a hedge even though it was meant to be the door. Natasha seems to understand anyway.

"Okay. Don't wander off too long. And come back here right after."

"Yes, ma'am." You give her a half-assed salute before turning around, swaying slightly in your step. It's the uneven and slippery surface of the snow-covered ground, you tell yourself.

There's a lot of people here, is what you note as you push yourself through the seemingly endless crowds of the living room. You kind of hate that they haven't played a single song you like and if Steve was here he would agree, because he doesn't listen to any music made after the internet was born. Bucky would then make fun of Steve and you would laugh and everything would be right in the world. Instead you're pressed to kitchen drawers of a dark kitchen, cheap vodka mixed with soda running down your throat.

The kitchen is crowded too, but either way it's a respite from whatever the hell's going on in the living room. Jumping up and down and calling it dancing (you were doing the same the hour before). You're too drunk to be miserable about everything happening in your life this entire term and much too drunk to feel the absolute atrocious taste of your drink.

In half an hour you will probably throw up and tomorrow will be spent nursing a horrible hangover, but those consequences seem insignificant right now. You just keep thinking about the image of Bucky shoving his tongue down someone's throat that wasn't yours. It was heartbreaking. That he's not here is a good thing, because you'd either witness the same thing again or actually bring it up to him, and that's much worse. God knows it's only a matter of time before Steve does the same thing.

Someone pushes into you, forcing the liquid from your cup to spill from the confines of the red plastic onto your dress. It's black, so it doesn't really matter, but the alcohol still seeps through the fabric until it reaches your skin.

"Shit, fuck—"

Your hand tries to somehow dry your dress by fanning the fabric, which obviously doesn't help very much, and the paper towels placed on the counter in front of you escape your drunken mind completely.

Fresh air and icy winter winds are the only options, so you push through and stumble into people on your way outside. It takes a lot longer than it should. You can't really see much considering the dizziness and darkness inside, but somehow, magically, you are eventually dragging your way towards Natasha who stands in the same place as before.

"Nat. Natty—I spilled. Look."

The black dress with the now wet patch is lifted towards her by your hands, highlighted for her to see. You sway as you tell her.

"Jesus, you can barely stand straight," Natasha answers with a stabling hand to your shoulder, shaking her head to herself instead of focusing on the very urgent fact that you spilled on yourself.

Natasha turns to the girl she's talking to, saying something you can't bother to decipher, before stepping aside with a guiding arm around you.

"We gotta get you home before you embarrass yourself for real," she mumbles underneath her breath.

"I heard that," you whisper, a loud hiccup following. Whoops.

She rolls her eyes, fishing her phone up from her pocket.

"Who—who you writing? To?" you ask, slightly aware that your sentences lack correct structure but not really caring. As long as the message comes across, right?

"I'm texting Steve. I can't drive and you sure as hell can't."

Even in your state, panic instantly sets in over the mention of his name even though you live in the same goddamn apartment.

"Nooo. No Steve."

Your hand grasps for her phone. Nat pulls it away from your reach much quicker than you can comprehend.

"Yes Steve. You're a mess and he's the only one with the patience to take care of this level of drunk. I don't care that you're avoiding them for some stupid goddamn reason," she tells you.

"Nat," you whine. "He can't see me. I spilled!"

She just glares at you. "I swear to god, Y/n...nobody cares that you spilled your drink. I can't even see it."

"I'm so drunk!"

"Yeah, I know. Just—just stay here, okay? I'm going to get you some water so you can sober up by the time your precious Steve comes for us."

Natasha is heading inside before you can process her words. Waiting in place for a few minutes turns into an eternity in your mind. She should know better than to leave you unattended and then expect you to stay—really, it's her own fault. You will accept no blame if Nat gets mad at you for going inside again. It's cold and you need to go to the bathroom. Also, you're mad at her. Telling Steve to come get you? That's just...embarrassing.

Once again you're shouldering your way past people on about the same level of intoxication as you. There's a bad remix of a Christmas song playing loudly. Makes you wanna punch whoever's phone is connected to the speaker. The bathroom is so, so far away. It's something the architect of this house should've thought of before he put it at the very end of this long hallway you're currently making your way through, but clearly he didn't have you in mind.

"Fuck! Watch where you're going, asshole," some girl seethes at you as your shoulder nudges against hers. A nudge is an exaggeration—you brushed against it at most. She's probably an aggressive drunk, that's all.

You don't answer, instead fumbling for the door handle to what you believe might be the bathroom. Some couple is making out in here, the girl with her ass planted on the edge of the bathtub and the guy nearly devouring her face. Doesn't look very pleasant, if you're honest.

"Out. I need to pee."

Your hands find their way to their shoulders, ushering the lovesick pair out of the room without much protest from either of them. They're still making out as they walk out.

Despite your less than sober state, you manage to remember to lock the door after they leave. Some of the mascara that previously inhabited your lashes has moved down to rest under your eyes. You rub it away, smudging it slightly, but it just makes you look a little more like one of those cool girls you always see on campus. It will do.

You kind of want to throw up, but decide against it. That hasn't happened since you were a freshman, and you'd like to keep it that way. Staring at yourself in the mirror occupies your time in the bathroom instead, swaying slightly with your hands placed on the cold sink. If Steve saw you now he would be so disappointed. At least you imagine he would be—that fatherly look on his face as he tells you how you need to be more mindful with your alcohol consumption. Did you even watch who poured your drink? Never go anywhere alone at a party. Especially not a frat one. You know better than this, Y/n.

Steve's imaginary voice is interrupted by someone banging on the door, shouting for you to hurry the fuck up. It's been over ten minutes, but to you it just feels like three, and Natasha has been looking for you ever since she returned to the garden with a glass of water in her hand and no one to give it to. It's not her banging on the door, unfortunately, but instead a dickhead guy who has no patience. Can't a girl spend some time alone in the bathroom doing nothing anymore?

The guy glares at you as you push the door open, stumbling out into the crowded hallway while paying him no mind. It's dark save for the red LED-lights plastered on the walls, making it feel like a seedy dive bar instead of a seedy house. You don't see much.

"Hey! Hey, you—the girl with the black dress!"

Someone pushes their way past the people talking and making out and leaning against the walls, shoving through them as he searches for your attention. Of course, you don't really think it's you he's after. Half of the people at this party are wearing black dresses.

A clammy hand finds purchase on your shoulder, halting you in your less than gracious steps and turning you around with ease. Head tilted back, gaze running upwards until they settle on the face of a quite attractive guy. He doesn't look pretty happy to see you. You're not very happy to see him either.

The blood drains from your face, stealing away all that alcohol-induced heat within a second as his curly hair and green eyes look down at you with that same contempt he had when Sam dragged him away from the kitchen almost a year ago. You had hoped you never had to see him again. It was a naive thing to wish for.

"Y/n, right?" he asks bitterly. You don't answer, but he takes your silence as a yes. It was probably a rhetorical question anyway. His slightly crooked nose was perfectly straight the last time you saw him. His face is committed to your memory, burned in to taunt you on sleepless nights and everytime an unknown man walks a little too closely when you're out alone. "Your little boyfriend broke my fucking nose. You know that?"

Another rhetorical question. Definitely more threatening. Might be the tight grip he has on your arm too. Either way, his mere presence has apparently stripped away your ability to breathe normally. It feels like you've been running to the point of nausea, dark spots dancing before your eyes as he shakes you in attempt to get an answer.

"You ruined my fucking reputation. For what? I barely touched you. Such a sensitive fucking bitch, going around telling everyone that..." His voice trails off, ushering you into a quiet corner when he realizes people are staring. "Got nothing to say now, huh? Been so good at running your fucking mouth before, haven't you?"

"Let me go," you whisper, voice wavering. You don't sound assertive at all, instead weak and fearful. It's what you feel, as an upbeat, slightly bad cover rendition of "All I Want For Christmas" booms through the house. Girls shrieking in excitement over in the living room reaches your ears. You would have joined them if you weren't currently cornered by the guy who assaulted you in your own kitchen a year ago.

"No, we're going to fucking talk. What the fuck were you doing, going around saying shit like that about me to everyone?"

"I...I didn't..." Your lips part between words, breathing out shakily, trying to articulate sentences long enough to make sense. Why can't you speak? Why can't you even think?

"You didn't what?" he seethes. "You're such a fucking bitch, you know that? Acts all innocent and hides behind her friends. My nose is fucking crooked forever because of that fuckhead you sent after me."

Is it the alcohol that renders you this goddamn useless? There's just tears springing to your eyes, unable to say anything in defense of yourself. Can't even walk away.

He pushes you against the wall, knocking the breath out of you. To other people it probably looks like you're hooking up. At least that's what you hope they think, because otherwise you want to wonder why no one is intervening.

"Joshua, please let me go," you tell him again, even more pathetic this time. You're crying now, curled in on yourself in attempt to make yourself as small as possible.

"Fuck, you're so—"

"She told you to let her go."

The assertive, familiar tone booms through the hallway. It doesn't really, can probably only be heard by the people around you, but it feels like it when Steve's tall figure pushes through with hasty steps towards where you and Joshua stand, followed by a glaring Bucky with his jaw clenched so fucking tightly. A sob of relief is drawn from your lips, muffled by the back of your hand.

Joshua steps back instantly. Kind of funny to think that he's so scared of those two, and sad to think that he only respects a 'no' when it comes from men.

"Nice nose job," Bucky speaks up, pointing at his own nose as he stares at Joshua's crooked one, courtesy of the damn good punch he managed to land with his left fist all those months ago.

"Fuck you," Joshua growls, taking a step forward in attempt to appear more threatening or something. He doesn't really succeed—both Bucky and Steve towers over him in both length and build, unrelenting in their stance. As if they're stone walls keeping out the enemy.

Steve rolls his his eyes, shaking his head with a sigh. "Just get out of here. Don't go near her ever again, you hear me? Bucky's glad to fix your nose otherwise. Break it right back. Can't promise the result will be very good, though."

Bucky stands slightly behind Steve, raising an eyebrow in Joshua's direction that tells him there's not even a trace of a lie in the blonde giant's statement.

"You—fuck this." Joshua throws his hands in the air, aiming the most distasteful glare over his shoulder in your direction, before pushing past Steve and Bucky with a shove.

Your body instantly deflates, the tension melting off your limbs as you close your eyes and lean back against the wall. Gentle, firm hands instantly reach your cheeks, your arms, searching for any trace Joshua might have left behind on your body.

"Hey, hey. Y/n, are you okay? Did he touch you? Sweetheart, look at me."

Bucky's voice draws you out of the anxious, panicked state you slipped into, fluttering your eyelids open to see his worried frown and an equally worried Steve looming behind him. Wet cheeks and red-rimmed eyes greet them, pupils dilated from the alcohol.

"Y/n, are you hurt? How long have you two been talking?" Steve adds, looming over you in such a way that his large frame blocks out any of the colorful lights plastered on the walls.

They already know you're drunk—Natasha was the one to call them here to get you, after all. Maybe your silence and obvious intoxication makes it clear to them after a couple of seconds that an answer from you is a few minutes away, a few miles of distance from this foggy, packed house. Nothing more is said or requested from you. Instead your trembling form is led away and out into the biting cold by gentle hands belonging to your friends. Even your slight shock can't shield you from freezing your ass off as soon as you get out into the fresh air again, teeth beginning to chatter within the second step on tightly packed snow.

"What the—where the hell have you been? I swear to god, Y/n, I was gone for two minutes! I've been looking for you everywhere!" an angry Natasha yells, running perfectly towards the three of you down the slippery lawn to where Steve is currently helping you into the backseat of his car.

"Nat," Steve says, giving her a pleading look that silently tells her it's not the time for a scolding.

"What? I told her to stay put when I went to get her a glass of water and she just disappeared out of nowhere. Slippery motherfucker while drunk, I swear she'll be the death of me—"

"Nat," he repeats, sternly this time. In that tone only he masters, silencing even the most eager tongues with a single exhale. "She met Joshua. And she's not okay. So please, leave your yelling for tomorrow and get in the car."

Steve holds the passenger door open, gesturing for the seat beside Bucky. He's turning the key, letting the car warm up properly while he clutches the wheel tightly. Natasha's irritated frown turns into a concerned one, nodding silently before slipping inside. Steve closes the door shut behind her.

You lean your head against the frost-covered window, fogged up by your breath two inches away from it, and close your eyes. Steve leans over you, reaching for the belt and fastens it over your torso. You forgot. He never does.

It's no surprise, doesn't startle you despite your absentminded state, when his warm hand cups your cheek, turns your head to face him. Soft, blue gaze and ridiculously long lashes. It's nothing but contrasting against the clouds released from your mouths with each breath—warm, concerned...loving? Maybe.

"Are you okay?" he whispers, thumb rubbing over your cheek.

You nod. "Yes. I am now."

Bucky puts his foot on the gas, turns on the blinker, and pulls away from the curb, out onto the streets. It's nearly soundless. The usual rumble from wheels against road is cushioned by the snow.

"This was a mistake. Sorry, I can't—" Sam gags, moving his head out of the bathroom before returning his presence within a few seconds. "You're a real shitty guard, Nat. Why'd you let her drink this much?"

All four of your roommates are gathered in the bathroom, surrounding you as if you're a newly born lion cub in a zoo, while you puke your guts out into the toilet. Steve is kneeling on the floor beside you, a comforting hand rubbing your back, while Bucky sits a few feet away with a glass of water in hand, ready for whenever you need it.

"Fuck you. You weren't there—she was like a goddamn ghost, just slipping away everytime I blinked. Looked fucking everywhere for her. 'S not my fault," Nat answers, residing on the floor of the shower in lack of space.

"Not true," you murmur in answer, your voice echoing off the ceramic surrounding you.

You're pretty much done throwing up, it's just the exhaustion following that's keeping you slumped over on the bathroom tile. Your hand stretches out in Bucky's direction, reaching for the glass of water that's gulped down within a few seconds.

"Careful. Gonna get sick again if you do it this fast," Bucky says, unable to help himself from brushing away the stray drops of water running down your chin.

The gesture is nothing new from him. He did it when you were sick all those months ago too, and you haven't forgotten it at all. His thumb gently rubbing over your skin as if you're precious, something deserving of gentleness, is engraved into your mind. You're thankful for getting most of the alcohol out of your system, because you might not have remembered this moment in the morning if not. Fuck it if you forgot the way his pupils widen just slightly, as if he didn't mean to, as if he couldn't help himself.

"I'm fine," you whisper in answer, clearing your throat. "Got it all out."

"Good." Steve's hand moves up from your back to your head, stroking it for just a second before withdrawing his touch. "Let's get you to the couch."

"I don't wanna go to the couch. Wanna be in my bed." You're pouting. Maybe there is some trace of alcohol left in you.

"Steve and Buck will feel much less like creepy stalkers if they stare at you sleeping on the couch instead of hovering around your bedroom all night like a bunch of pervs," Natasha speaks up. A snort follows after, as if it was a joke and not a statement. Definitely tipsy too, despite unwilling to admit such a weakness.

Steve raises a reprimanding eyebrow Natasha's way, telling her to shut her mouth with just his gaze. She smirks in answer.

"Don't listen to her. A fucking liar," Bucky remarks, but there's still some form of amusement in his expression. He can't even deny the statement—he is going to watch over you. Doesn't really matter if it's in the living room or in your bedroom. "Now let's get you up. C'mon."

With a push from your arms against the cold tile, you're standing on two legs again. Steve is hovering his hand near your back, ready to support if the vodka decides to topple you over. But you're fine—just tired now.

For ten minutes it feels things are back to normal again. On the living room couch, nestled in between them, your head leaning on Steve's shoulder as a stupid Hallmark Christmas movie plays on the tv. Sam and Natasha are in their rooms sleeping, and for a few moments you forget why you kept your distance. Everything would have been good if this is how the night would end. If Steve didn't have to address the past six months.

"I've missed this. With us," Steve whispers as he strokes your shoulder absentmindedly, like it's second nature to him to have his hands on your skin. "You've been so distant lately. For months, Y/n."

The room instantly becomes tense enough to make you nauseous. A clearing of your throat, an attempt to sit up out of Steve's hold and away from this conversation that you'd much rather avoid is futile—it's instantly stopped by Bucky's hand on your chest that pushes you right back.

"No," he says sternly. "You're gonna sit right here, sweetheart, and tell us why you've barely let us see you since fall term started. 'Cause it's sure as fuck not something I take lightly. Why have you avoided us?"

You look away, shaking your head to yourself as you try to talk yourself down. You will not break. You will not confess a single thing. You are going to act like everything is fine and you are not currently freaking out being sandwiched between the only two men you would gladly be sandwiched between under different circumstances than this.

"What are you even talking about?" you answer meekly. It's clear as soon as the words come out of your mouth that no one is falling for your innocent act, not even sweet, naive Steve. Then again, you're doing a particularly bad job. "Both of you think I've been distant?"

"Cut the bullshit, Y/n. If we've done something wrong, just say so." Bucky bites his cheek, glancing down for just a second, but it's enough to let his vulnerability slip. He's hurt.

A wave of guilt instantly washes over your body, an unusual feeling. During all these months of avoiding any interaction with Bucky and Steve besides the necessary ones, you didn't think that they'd actually mind your absence that much. They might not be hopelessly in love with you like you are with them, but they're still your friends. Friends miss each other.

"Or if it's something personal, you can tell us, you know? Is it anxiety, or are you feeling generally low, or...?" Steve chips in, trying to drown out Bucky's accusatory tone.

"No, no...I'm not depressed, Steve. And none of you have done anything wrong, I promise," you say hastily, shutting down their concerns as quickly as possible while trying to buy yourself time to come up with an excuse. "I just...needed some alone time."

Bucky rolls his eyes, shaking his head. Sassy man. "Bullshit again. You've spent a bunch of time with Natasha. Sam, too. It's us you're avoiding." He points to himself and Steve with his hand. "It's been almost six months, Y/n. What the hell's your problem?" He pushes himself off the couch, standing up and blocking your view of the tv. It's as if his frustration is all contained while sitting down.

"Bucky," Steve scolds, glaring up at his friend. He's not appreciating the tone at all, that's for sure.

"There's no problem, Bucky," you tell him, shaking your head. Trying to dismiss this entire conversation before you reveal too much.

"No! Y/n, I'm going fucking crazy! This is the first time you've even let me touch you in half a year!" Bucky yells, a pleading tone in his voice that breaks your heart just a little. Because it's true. You have barely even hugged since June. You've barely talked for more than five minutes at a time.

"Don't yell at her, for god's sake, Bucky," Steve adds, his hands on your shoulders and ready to get up from the couch any second.

"What the hell's going on with you, huh?!" Bucky continues, ignoring Steve's statement. His eyes are solely focused on you, void of the usual softness. There's just anger. "Cause if you can't stand us, then tough fucking luck. I can have your fucking things moved out by tomorrow for all I care. Can move right into Walker's dorm. Bet he'd accept you with open fucking arms if you get to your knees and—“

The drop of your heart down to your stomach can almost be heard, an echoing, hollow sound. You're sure of it. Bucky shuts his mouth, as if he realizes what exactly was about to come out of it. What is not even a second of silence feels like a whole minute, before Steve shoots up from his seat beside you and grabs Bucky by the collar, rattling the whole room with the force in which he nearly tackles Bucky against the wall with. The tangy taste of iron starts to fill your mouth, your teeth biting down on your lip hard enough to draw blood. There's tears lingering in your eyes but you can't hold them back, not anymore.

"You don't fucking talk to her like that, you bast—"

"I love you! It’s ‘cause I fucking love you guys!” you yell, a pathetic sob marring the words. “So I’m fucking sorry that I’ve avoided you two but I’m trying to get over these goddamn—these feelings, but I can’t, okay! I can’t!”

The bitter delivery is punctuated by the sleeve of your sweater wiping away the tears furiously, cutting Steve off and drawing both of their wild eyes towards your figure now standing up, just a minute away from a complete breakdown. You don't even process the fact that Steve cursed. It would've been teased about endlessly in any other situation.

"I will go. I'll leave if that's what you want," you seethe with a voice so unsteady that it's almost unbearable to listen to. "But I don’t hate any of you. I don’t, and I get why you’re mad. But fuck you, Bucky. Fuck you for saying that.”

More tears fall. It's futile to wipe them away when they'll be replaced the second after. You want to say more, hit Bucky where it hurts, but you cannot get the goddamn words to form on your lips. Opening your mouth and closing it again, shaking your head, comes before hastily walking towards your room and locking yourself inside without giving them a chance to answer.

As soon as the door is slammed shut, your hand comes up to your mouth to muffle the sobs. Sinking down to the floor as if you’re in a movie, forehead resting against your knees. The rate of your heartbeats could be considered dangerously high, but you just blurted out a whole love confession for two of your roommates in the midst of a fight. How the hell could everything turn to shit so quickly? Half an hour ago all of you were joking around in the bathroom, and now you're not sure you have the courage to face any of them again.

It's a rash, impulsive decision fueled by anger and betrayal and shame, but you rush over to your closet and pull out an overnight bag that's soon filled to the brim with enough things to last you a few days. You're crying the entire time.

When you pass the living room again, Bucky isn't there anymore. But Steve is. Barely a glance his way is spared, with hasty steps heading towards the hallway. You remind yourself of a furious toddler when you angrily put on your jacket, stick your feet into your winter boots. The bag is slung over your shoulder, hand resting on the door handle.

"Don't go. Y/n, please don't leave."

Steve stands at the other side of the hallway, a broken down expression on his pretty face.

"Bucky went out of line, but he didn't mean it, I swear. He's just too prideful to admit it," he continues. You shake your head, biting down on your bottom lip. "Please, honey. It’s Christmas Eve. It won’t be the same if you’re not here tomorrow.”

"I just need some space," you whisper, brushing away a stray tear with the sleeve of your jacket. You’re so embarrassed and hurt that you can barely look him in the eye. "I can't be in the same apartment as him right now."

Steve sighs, looking about ready to just throw you over his shoulder to get you to stay. But he won't do that. That's not Steve. So instead he glances down to the floor, shaking his head to himself.

“Did you mean it?” he asks softly. “The thing about—you said you loved us. Did you mean it?”

It takes a few seconds before you nod tentatively, sniffling and keeping your gaze on a spot past Steve. He doesn’t say anything.

Steve gathers courage enough to walk up to where you stand by the door, grabbing your cheeks with his hands, thumb running over the tear-stained skin gently. For a few moments, he just looks at you. Loud thoughts running amok in that perfect head of his.

“Nothing I say right now will do my feelings any justice, so I’m gonna save any big speeches for tomorrow. But just…stay. It’s 2 am, it’s freezing out and you’re still drunk. I don’t want you out there on the streets alone. I need you to stay, even if it’s only for your own safety. Don’t have to talk to any of us if you don’t want to.”

His words makes you nod automatically. All it took was his hands on your skin and the flicker of hope his words ignite in your chest, and you conceded within a second. No hesitation left in that exhausted body of yours. He‘s not saying outright that your feelings are requited, but it doesn’t feel like a rejection either. He doesn’t seem disgusted by your confession, by the knowledge that you’re in love with both him and his best friend.

“Good girl. Let’s just—let’s get you to bed, okay?”Steve tells you, squeezing your shoulder gently. With your confirmation in form of another silent nod, he nestles the bag out of your grip and takes off the jacket from your torso.

The bed feels so soft and warm and comforting when you lie down. Steve tucks you in. It’s achingly sweet and you don’t really deserve it after avoiding him and Bucky like that for so long, but he looks out for you nonetheless.

“Steve,” you whisper, drawing his gaze up to meet yours. “I’m sorry. For being so distant.”

He shakes his head. “You have nothing to be sorry for. You were scared,” Steve answers. “Don’t worry about anything, okay? Get some sleep. You’ve had a tough night, Y/n.”

The softest of smiles grazes your lips, puppy eyes gazing up at Steve. Your wonderful, caring, perfect Steve.

“Are you alright? It must’ve been hard meeting Joshua again. And what Bucky said, it…it was far from okay.”

“I will be,” you whisper.

He nods, observes your face for a few seconds. Leans down to press a kiss to your forehead—what kind of college guy even does that? And then he leaves the room, turning the light off behind him.

You’re woken up by a red headed, crazy woman sitting on top of you over the sheets, shaking your shoulders.

“Wake up, fuckhead. You’re gonna open the presents I got you,” Natasha urges, grinning down at you as you blink your eyes open, groaning.

“Fuckhead?” you ask, a tired chuckle from your lips as Natasha climbs off the bed.

“Yes. Don’t like it, huh?” she teases. “C’mon. The guys are already waiting.”

With slow steps and a loud yawn, the slightest trace of a hangover plaguing your body, you drag yourself out into the living room. Around the ugly, little tree that Sam insisted on cutting down from the campus gardens last week (he almost got arrested by the security guards) the three boys sit. Your gaze falls to the floor, scratching the skin right above your lip nervously, once Bucky looks up at you. Can’t really read his expression, but you figure you’ll lay the fight aside for the day. It’s Christmas, after all.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Steve says, urging you to sit down next to him right there on the carpet. You offer a soft smile, and an even softer ‘Merry Christmas’ back. You’re still unsure about yesterday. Despite there being no rejection from either of them, the uncertainty is kind of killing you. A pit of anxiety rests in your stomach, an uneasy feeling corrupting every cell as you sit down on the floor next to Steve.

Not even ten minutes later, the living room is drowning in a sea of wrapping paper. Natasha went overboard with the gift shopping this year, it seems like, but her absent father is also some kind of Russian oligarch or something so she tends to use up as much of his money as she can. You’re not complaining.

The special edition of The Hobbit, signed by the director of the movie, that you managed to get on eBay and cost you a fucking fortune is received with a whispered ‘thank you’ from Bucky. He holds it in his hands tightly, staring down at the book without a word, and you don’t know if he’s happy for it. Maybe he’s not happy with anything touched by you at this moment. He hasn’t gotten you a gift, it seems like, or maybe he threw it in the trash and burned it yesterday.

Steve got you three books that he’d heard you say you wanted months ago, and a dainty silver necklace with a bee pendant hanging from it. “You know, uh, I usually call you ‘honey’ and I thought it was a little funny, maybe. But I can exchange it if you don’t like it. It’s no problem,” he had said, even though there were tears of gratitude in your eyes. Your arms were thrown around him a second later, hugging him tightly as you thanked him profusely for the most thoughtful gift.

Now you’re leaning your back against the couch, still on the floor, watching as Sam and Natasha are tinkering with his new Nintendo Switch that he got from her (overboard with the gifts, as previously mentioned). He’s so happy it almost makes you zoned out as you watch his childlike excitement. It’s nice to see the two of them so calm and sweet with each other too. Usually bickering and getting on each other’s nerves all the time otherwise.

“Y/n, can we talk?”

Your head tilts back, looking up at Bucky standing nervously in front of you, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. There’s a deep hesitation within you, a pride that wants to say no and remain in your angry state forever without confrontation. But it’s Bucky. You hate this animosity between the two of you, the tension. Despite being pissed off and hurt and afraid that he doesn’t want you, you can’t say no, so you nod and push yourself up to a stand.

Bucky closes the door to his room behind him gently, clearing his throat and looking at anything but you. A sigh comes out of his mouth, shaking his head, before he parts his lips to speak.

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. What I said was disgusting and unforgivable and so fucking out of line. You didn’t deserve that at all. So out of proportion to what I was mad at you for,” Bucky says, running the palm of his calloused hand over his face.

“It was,” you answer honestly. There’s no use in denying that what Bucky said was stupidly hurtful. He nods, looking away from your gaze.

“It made me angry thinking that you ignored me, because at first I didn’t know what I had done, you know? And then I thought for a few months that me and Steve had been too overbearing and that you tried to keep your distance because you thought we were annoying or something. But that’s not the case. I should’ve known better by now than to think that you would do anything to purposely hurt us.”

You gulp, nodding, looking down to the floor. “I’m sorry too,” you whisper. “I didn’t know that you guys thought I had something against you until last night. Obviously, you…you know now that’s not the case,” you tell him, embracing yourself with your arms. “But last night, Bucky, I…you hurt me. I know you were angry, but saying those kind of things isn’t okay.”

“I know that. God, I know, Y/n. I’m so sorry. It was fucking childish of me, retorting to saying that Jo—“ Bucky shakes his head, hands coming up to tug at the roots of his hair. “And it felt stupid giving you that present in front of everyone, so now you think I didn’t get you anything, too, and—“

“You got me a present?”

“Yes. Of course I did, Y/n. But I saw how much Natasha had bought and that necklace Steve gave you and my gift felt stupid in comparison to that. Just didn’t want to give it to you in front of everyone,” he says, a little awkwardly. A little boy giving his mother a drawing he made in kindergarten, he reminds you of.

“Bucky…that doesn’t matter. I don’t care what you have gotten me. I’ll like it no matter what if it’s from you.”

He shifts in his place, contemplating something, before picking up a sweater on his bed, revealing a wrapped present hidden underneath. Bucky took the gift from the pile without anyone noticing before, throwing it into his room so no one would see.

With a tentative hand, he reaches it out to you. Doesn’t watch as you unwrap it, instead biting on his thumbnail. You reprimand him for it, and the hand returns to his side.

“Is it a book?” You run your fingers over the cover, a hardcover with nothing on it. Blank.

“It’s a photo album. Shit, it’s stupid. I don’t know,” Bucky answers, looking about ready to snatch it back, but you open the first page up before he has a chance to.

A picture of you, Natasha, Sam and Steve on the first page. It was taken last year in November. You’re all running after one of Sam’s model planes, fall leaves singling down from the sky. It’s a beautiful picture.

“4 grown idiots running after a kid’s toy - November 12th, 2022”

“It’s just pics I’ve taken with my phone, so it’s nothing artsy or anything, but…uhm.” Bucky runs his hand through his short, brown hair.

You flip the page. You’re looking out through the kitchen window, the sun shining through and casting shadows over the room and your figure curled up on the chair.

“Angel in the sun - March 25th, 2023”

A soft chuckle is drawn from your lips, resisting the urge to run your finger over the photo, but you don’t want to smudge the blank paper. On the same page there’s another picture of you with your arms around Natasha’s shoulders, nearly wrestling her to the ground with the force of your hug. You look so happy.

Bucky looks nervous as you glance up from the photo album at him. “Know it’s not much, but…yeah.”

A loud huff of hair escapes Bucky as you throw your arms around him. It takes a second or two for him to hug you back, but he soon has his chin resting on top of your head, arms around your waist.

“I love it,” you whisper, holding onto him tightly enough to constrict his breathing.

“You do? I can take it back if you don’t like it.”

Your grip around him releases, arms coming down to your sides so you can take a step back and look him in the eyes. “This is everything, Bucky,” you say softly, feeling a lump in your throat that can turn into tears any second. “The fact that you took the time to make this for me is just…it’s the most thoughtful thing ever. And these pictures are so beautiful, Bucky, and just the thought of you sitting down and glueing them onto the page and writing captions and—“

His lips against yours. Oh god. Oh my god, Bucky has his lips pressed against yours. Gentle hands hold your jaw, his head leaning down to compensate for the height difference, and Bucky Barnes is kissing you with urgency and desperation.

The shock is enough to make you unable to return the kiss. He seems to take your surprise as rejection despite the fact that you literally yelled ‘I love you’ in his face last night. Bucky steps away and takes his hands off your skin, running his hand over his mouth, shaking his head.

“I’m so sorry, don’t know what the hell came over me, I—“

On your tiptoes, fingers grabbing his sweatshirt to pull him closer, and you nearly smash your lips against his to shut up any of that doubt he carries. It’s not a graceful or very romantic kiss, but by the sound akin to a very mild growl that comes from Bucky and his hands sliding down to your waist to pull you closer, you guess he likes it anyway.

It doesn’t last more than 20 seconds. A harsh knock on the door to Bucky’s room interrupts it, forcing you part from his lips and get down from your tiptoes again.

“What the hell are you doing in there? C’mon! I’ve made goddamn Christmas brunch!” Sam yells, drawing a soft chuckle from your lips as your forehead meets Bucky’s chest.

With a soft smile, nothing said, you back away from Bucky. Slipping out of his room and leaving him there all flustered and semi-hard from a 20 second make-out session. The first ever between you, though. He thinks it’s pretty understandable.

As Bucky follows you into the kitchen, sitting down at the table by Steve, he leans towards his best friend and whispers into his ear low enough to make anyone else unable to hear.

“I kissed her, Stevie,” Bucky says with a shit eating grin on his face. “I finally fucking kissed her.”

The blond man turns his head enough to look over at Bucky, the red flush of his cheeks and ears enough to tell anyone what’s been said.

“Are you serious?” Steve asks.

“I kissed her and she kissed me back, I swear. I gave her that photo album I’ve worked on for weeks. She said she loved it, Steve.”

“I guess it’s my turn then, isn’t it?” Steve answers, a shy smile on his lips as the two of them watch you sit down opposite of them at the table, glancing through the window out at the heavy snowfall. Natasha puts a newly toasted bagel on your plate.

“Go get our girl, Stevie.”

[summercreolefanfictioner]

the scent wafts in, her name making him beg on his knees chap 1.3

pairing: dabi / todoroki touya x fem!oc / reader (MODERN AU)

summary: He mentions her name after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times.

(In which Touya returns home after rebelling against his family for 7 years. And no, it wasn't about forgiveness. He wanted to fix himself because of a certain someone.)

themes: nsfw, domestic abuse, violence, alcoholism, cigarette smoking, toxic relationships, mental health, co-dependency and other related themes (YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED)

notes: for this one, pls keep in mind that touya didn't have much scars on his face; mostly are on his body to accommodate the plot; charas might be ooc since this is modern au

He mentions her name in his room after 6 months in therapy, absentmindedly narrating vivid memories of her. She was the only good thing during his darkest times. Touya didn't know why he did it. Maybe because remembering his childhood was bringing him too much sorrow he needed a breather from these drowning emotions. He wanted a reminder of why he kept on living, and it was her. The reason he was here doing shitty rehab and therapy.

To be honest, ever since he opened up about the Sekoto Peak incident and the reasons behind his burnt scars, the darkness swallowed a part of him, reminded him that the past will never die and it will prevent him from moving on because he will never become the same Todoroki Touya he was back then. That's why he kind of listened to that devil on his head, urging him to destroy his soul and forget about healing. He will never heal. He will never get that damn redemption.

Todoroki Touya will never be forgiven as long as he lived.

One time, while he was out at the garden, he saw one nurse slip out a stick of cigarette and secretly give it to one of the patients. There it was in its smallest form. Temptation. The reason humans were slaves to vices. Touya could feel his mouth water at the sight. His head was begging him to walk towards the nurse, secretly get buddy-buddy with them, and grab a stick or two.

No, just one. Just one stick. It will be fine. I will not be addicted. Just to release the stress.

He quietly walked towards the nurse, glancing every now and then around him to see if someone will catch him in the act.

Just take it slow and nice, Touya. You can get your relief now if you do it the right way.

He was nearing the nurse when a question popped in his head.

Is she worth one stick, though?

Guilt. It was embracing him like an old friend, cuddling him like they were the bestest of friends.

Is she worth one sip of alcohol, Todoroki Touya?

Is she worth all those violent things in your head?

Hey, Todoroki Touya?

IS SHE?!

He stood there, in the middle of nowhere, contemplating this one bad decision in his life, the one that will alter the course of his direction. Why was he here anyway? Isn't it because of her?

"Do you want to become a better person?"

"Yes."

He grunted, clicking his teeth in annoyance as he walked back inside the facility and headed to his room, making sure his strides were as normal as they could be or else the staff would be following him around and restrain him. When he got inside, he slowly sank on the floor and let out a deep breath, relieved that he got to escape the clutches of the darkness again as sweat rolled down his body.

Of course, he knew the answer.

She was worth more than that. She was worth more than everything. She was fucking worth more than all the damn he could give.

He got up after a few minutes, slumped down in his bed and took out his mp3 player. This time, he played the song she listened to whenever she wanted to sleep. When they first met, she told him she craved someone to sleep beside her, so she would play this song a lot to sleep. It was ridiculous, but he adopted the same habit one day, when she was out for work and there was her vinyl player in the corner of her room.

He hit the play button and forced himself to sleep, whispering her name.

"..."

He smiled.

"... good night."

Drowning away, from the start to the end

Come and take my all away

Words come along to despair

And I'm here craving for your love to save me...

The song plays repeatedly in the background.

------

"She was fresh, white, laundered sheets, and soft skin, and warm smiles."

His therapist was wide-eyed, confused and surprised at Touya's sudden remark, thinking back on their previous sessions if he mentioned a certain woman with these characteristics. So far, the only women Touya had mentioned was his mother and sister. Describing a woman as fresh laundered sheets with soft skin and warm smiles was a lot more than what someone would tell about a family member.

Touya looked out the window. It was a sunny day, the same weather on that day when he noted the scent on her. While he knew he had to tell more about how his alcoholism and cigarette dependence, he just couldn't go on not mentioning her. She was the reason he wanted to change, after all.

"It was the morning after we did it for the first time," Touya absentmindedly continued his tale, unknowingly making his therapist slightly flustered that he would mention a bit of his sex life. "I never touched her despite living with her for the first 2 months, and then I just had the urge, and then... the next morning... she just made sense."

She was covered with the white sheets, her hair loose with a few strands slightly covering her face. Her fair skin was soft in his hands, and he felt afraid of breaking her (even though he had originally planned on ruining her before.) And there was that warm smile again, the one she kept showing to him even though he had no idea what he had done to receive those.

"Good morning, Dabi," she greeted, unaware of his real name at the time. "Is there anything you want for breakfast?"

"I should've asked her if it hurt," Touya realized, "you know... doing it with me and all. She told me before that her shitty ex just took her virginity when they were in high school without making her feel good. I wasn't there, but I would like to think she cried a lot."

"Did you ask her if she cried or was sad about it?" the therapist inquired.

"I am not the best person to say the best words."

The therapist was confused, thinking about the meaning behind his lines.

"What did you say... or do?"

"I... I hugged her, and I..."

"And you... ?"

And I smiled for the first time.

"That's a secret."

"O-Okay." The therapist closed his notebook. "What's her name?"

"Her name is..."

ps. the song he was listening to was Never Again by Karen Aoki (the link is up there for you to listen)

next chapter

masterlist

[madamealys]

Imagine you are Tom Glynn Carney’s closest friend. In fact… too close.

(21+)

***

You are having a relatively complicated day when he calls you.

“Hey, Y/N! Guess what? I’m gonna take the Empire State!”

Aware of his sudden escalating fame, you giggle at his excitement, happy for sharing it—you’ve always encouraged him to pursuit the path of acting, always stood there for him. What’s best of doing your part is that Tom not only acknowledges it, but is thankful for it.

Somehow this warms your heart and makes you forget the clouds that were forming above your head.

“No kidding!! Tell me all about it!”

“I will show you for I was allowed to take someone with me and this someone is you!”

Tom knows how you will react: a stunned silence will be followed by an overjoyed cry out before you are listing every reason why he should choose someone else. Of course there will be some small argument over it, and he could foresee how bright your smile will be when he wins you over it.

The sight itself of your blush and smile makes his heart skip a beat. A perception that rises an alert by his reason, but he doesn’t pay mind to it. Not now anyways.

And it occurs as predicted, which makes him smile.

I’m glad you’re still the same after all those years, Y/N.

“I don’t care. I’m picking you up tonight, pack your things already.”

Your day couldn’t get any better, could it?

***

“We are leaving early tomorrow”, says he when picking you up and driving you to his place. “To prevent you to get late, I’m kidnapping you.”

You laugh quietly at his teasing.

“I don’t get late this often.”

“For a British woman, you do get quite late in many places.”

“I am not late, people of my surroundings tend unfortunately to arrive too early”, you snap back, pleased to make him chuckle.

“Right. You keep telling yourself that, Y/Nickname.”

Tom smiles at you before finally parking his car. You gladly hear all that he has to say, genuinely listening—a trait that he always compared to his former girlfriends, who never seemed interested in catch up with him—until he stops talking.

“You are too quiet again”, Tom notices just as you two walk in his grand, magnificent house.

“I am not”, you try not to give in, but your tone—too high—breaks your intention.

Tom holds your wrist—and it’s here that this touch, former friendly, shows other colors, previously unknown to both of you—and makes you turn at him. You hate how his eyes, so deep and vivid, dive right into yours, drinking into your soul, denuding it crudely.

Most of all, what you hate about the intensity of his gaze is the incapacity of denying him anything. What he asks, you give. You know that.

Oh, you know that.

Fuck.

“What happened, Y/Nickname? I know how supportive you are, but I can tell you’ve been distant this time.”

Saying so, stroking his thumb around your wrist, you are pulled onto him, like the Earth when it’s forced to gravitate around the sun.

Tom knows by your body language that he has so much power over you—he maybe has always known this, but never intended to explore it, for fearful he was in discovering that he may not feel it back, in order to ruin the sacred friendship you two have.

But when gazing at you, he comes to know there is so much more than surface shows. When reading this unspoken pain behind your y/c eyes, he wants to grip your face and protect you at all costs, he wants to devour your lips, he wants to give you the world.

He wants to hear his name out of your holy mouth as he does unspeakable things to you.

Oh. Damned be I.

“Well?”, he swallows his unholy thoughts, burying them alive. “Do you not think I know not my dearest and closest friend after all these years?”

“I do not intend to trouble you, is all”, you say, detesting how weak and meek you sound when you are so easily against him. “You’re having such a great time.”

“I will not have a great time when you’re like this”, he protests with a smile on his lips, too acutely aware of the effects his presence has on you. “I’m all ears, Y/Nickname. Don’t hide away from me.”

You tilt your head, letting him pull a lock of your hair that stubbornly fell over your forehead behind your ear. And then… you tell him your frustrations at work, how little valued you feel by others—your family included.

Tom listens, and not only that but he prepares some tea for both of you. There is this intimacy you’ve never had with another… and when looking into his eyes, you realize that he’s your home.

But why admitting it to yourself when you’ve shielded it behind your pride all of those years?

“Feeling better now?”, he asks you at last. How suddenly you two are cuddling on the couch?

“I am, thank you. You’ve always been a great listener”, you smile at him, not minding the gravity drawing one to the other.

Fingers intertwine, playfully at first. But electric waves are inevitably felt.

“The same can be said of you”, he too smiles, pleased to spot a faint blush rising in your cheeks. He wants to stroke your face, but Tom lacks the bold moves.

One gazes to the other, an invitation is silently posed. But who is yet to give the first steps? So suddenly aware of this unspoken and unadmitted tension, you opt to break it by giving an excuse to retire.

Which cools the spark, you know. But for how long?

Tom sighs and opts to keep to himself, even if this uncertainty drives him mad on the inside.

How long, though? For how long?

A question he is yet to fear the answer.

***

“It’s a beautiful view!”, you tell him later that day, when he takes you back to the hotel with his cast friends.

This day you and Tom, alongside dearly Olivia, Phia and Ewan and other members of the crew of “House of the Dragon”, have climbed to Empire State. Though you tried to be discreet, to your embarrassment Tom ensured you not to be excluded and suddenly you and Olivia became good friends, with each exchanging the contact to the other.

You are still wearing a green—“how thought of you to dress accordingly”, so Tom teased you when seeing you ready, to which you teased him back: “all for my favourite king!, which in turn got him red much to your delight—long gown with reinforces your curves, with your hair loose and the emerald jewelry Tom gifted you on your last birthday, by the time you and him got to the hotel bedroom.

Aegon had insisted that you two shared it—with him sleeping on the couch against your protests—so here you two are.

“Indeed it is”, he agrees, sounding more tired than his bubbly countenance allows him to show. “Very remarkable indeed.”

“You look exhausted”, you say, removing your earrings and necklace before coming at him. “Should you get some rest, T.”

He gives you one kind of glance that makes you mewl.

“You are really gorgeous, Y/N.” And then he stands. For a moment you hope for it. But… “I need a shower, truly.”

As he goes to the bathroom, you know you cannot conceal the disappointment that Tom spots. But what then?

What then? You ask yourself, sad somewhat.

***

“Y/N”, you hear him call you.

It’s dark, lights are out, and after that awkward moment where delights turned to dust with each following to each side, everyone seems to content in silently agree to sleep under the pretense of exhaustion to disguise this unspoken tension.

“Are you awake?”

Part of you wishes to pretend to be asleep. You know you are tired, it really has been a long day, but…

“Yes.”

A brief moment of silence, interrupted by his footsteps. You don’t mind him joining your side—it’s something you’ve always insisted if you’d properly shared the bed with a cushion in between—but you know there’s an anxiety in how he moves to the bed you are that hasn’t been detected before.

Tom slides to your side, thinking the same, perceiving the growing climax of this unbearable tension. He turns the light of the lamp, which soon dissipates part of the darkness that involves you two.

Tension rises when you notice he’s shirtless, the way his short hair falls, his muscles. The proximity makes you warm… specially in between your legs, a feeling you haven’t felt for a long while.

“Y/N. I was rude to you, I’m sorry”, he says, sounding desperate.

You are on your elbow, not minding the nightgown that is nearly showing off unprotected nipples. Such a sight makes Tom sigh deeply, but he keeps sinful thoughts to himself.

Though you may have noticed a naughty glimpse behind his eyes that only makes you feel unthinkable things. And may as well make you incline so a nipple purpose is out.

Tom knows he should not look, but how can he ignore the pink, hardened nipple that is so easily out of the cloth that should keep it of his sight? How can he not admire the swell of your right breast under this light, making visible the object of his desire? Is it useful to struggle with the nights he slept with other women thinking of you?

Nevertheless he holds back his lust when you say:

“Rude? How so?”

Looking into your eyes, he says:

“I struggle in vain to hold back my sentiments for you. Over the years I’ve realized that friendship is not suffice to placate the yearnings of my heart. Your happiness is mine as is otherwise. I want to make you happy, I want to be the reason of your daily smiles. I know this isn’t the most appropriate form to say this, but fuck… I love you, Y/N Y/LN.”

You pale for a moment. Heart races, you forget how to breathe—this is far more girly like than you, as an adult woman, expect. Tom for a moment fears that he’s misinterpreted all of this, until you move forward and cup his face with both hands.

“I love you, Tom Glynn-Carney. I always have and I always will.”

His face brightens upon hearing these words. Three little words that impact a great deal his well being. There is little else to say other than doing what both of you wanted to have it done for a long while now.

In this poorly illuminated room he kisses you, and gladly give in. What it starts as a slow kiss soon evolves to a passionate one. It’s enough to spark that repressed fire.

As your tongue syncs with his, perfectly paired in the same rhythm, you pull Tom over you, welcoming him with your legs. It doesn’t really help your case that his skillful hands soon lift your nightgown, slowly to your waist, gripping your hips.

But you don’t stay too far behind, taking hold of his hair before sliding your hands to his shoulders, thanking the divine for the shirt he’s not wearing. As you dig your fingers against his skin, smirking as he hisses under his breath as a result, he parts the kiss to dive against your neck.

For every built tension is finally dissolved when his hands engulf your frame, slowly lifting higher your nightgown until he suddenly stops what he’s doing.

“Tom!”, you don’t hesitate in protest.

“What?”, he gives you a mischievous look before tilting his head with a completely innocent aura. “I was just wondering if you are comfortable with where this is going.”

“Well, yes I am”, you say as-a-matter-of-factly. “I appreciate your concerns, but you’d know by now if I wasn’t ok with this.”

To ensure you mean every word, you make sure to lock him with your legs and swipe positions.

Tom gives you the look of a devoted lover that not only makes you dripping wetter—if possible—but encourages you to be bolder.

“Even so…”

Whatever he is about to say dies in silence when you remove your nightgown and let him drink the view of your bare breasts pouncing lightly as you rub yourself over his hardened cock.

“This is better than in my wildest dreams”, he mumbles in between hot shortened breaths.

You lean to kiss his lips for a few moments before sliding your tongue to his neck. In the meantime, your eager hands play with his hair, gently moving to his neck and slowly going downwards.

Tom closes his eyes, letting you have the control this time, struggling to keep his arousal in check though his bone is making him burn inside.

It doesn’t help his case when your fingertips get it delicately only to wrap around it.

“Merciful be Heavens”, he groans, already pumping into your palm.

You take your time, running your painfully hard nipples against his skin, tasting his sweat with your tongue. Playing with his neck and jawline makes you hornier—if possible: hearing his ache for you brings such a naughty side of you unknown to any other men.

“Yes, my love”, you bite down his lip. And for a moment your eyes meet in a longing gaze. “Is it good?”

“Fuck yes. You do it so fucking well.”

He throws his head back, eyelashes barely closing as you keep doing what you’re doing. You love to have him moaning, responding so perfectly to your efforts in making him feel good.

You know you want more. In other circumstances you’d scowl at yourself for these impure thoughts, sinful desires, but this is hardly the time for doing so.

You feel so good in giving what he needs that you barely recall yours. And when you go down his belly, Tom gently holds your hair, playing with your locks.

“Babe, you don’t have to do this.”

When you look up, he sees a mischievous glint never before met in such pure eyes of yours.

“Oh honey, you have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this moment.”

When you finally replace your hands with your tongue, Tom is abruptly taken to Heaven. Every night he touched himself thinking of you is nothing compared to what you do, fulfilling his naughty dreams he often had about you.

As he pumps into your mouth, his mind goes into blank and brought into nothingness, he slips to an exquisite kind of joy. And you do your best, enjoying it to the point of touching yourself too in the process.

As he sees you enjoying doing it, eventually though… Tom knows that feeling too damn well. He’s about to…

“FUCK!”

You know he doesn’t plan to jerk in you, but you don’t flee from the task. You engulf it all, drinking it. As you sit over it, not minding the risks it may have by doing so, you lick your lips.

“You taste so good, Tom Glynn Carney.”

He eyes you like a hunter. And so suddenly you become his prey. For you are now under his desperate lips, his savage kiss destroying you all the whilst his hands cup your breasts, there staying for a while as you begin to moan.

“You will be rewarded for your devotion, my love”, he whispers against your ear, smirking pleasantly when spotting how shivering you are under his wording.

His lips burn you like fire, but you are yet to get burnt. Tom is patient, he wants to see every bit of you reacting to his command. He kisses you slowly, his tongue licking your skin in his own pace.

But when going to your chest, he says:

“I’ve always noticed your beautiful, rosy, round breasts. And often wondered what’d be like to take each nipple under my mouth”, the actor smirks when you blush. “I’ve always lusted after you, love. This shouldn’t be surprising.”

His eyes are locking with yours as he engulfs his tongue around your nipple, pleased to finding you moaning, louder each time he sucks it. Then his hand finds way to your feminine core only to be pleasantly surprised by how wet you are.

“I’ve always thought of you in the same way”, you say, messing with the sheets. “God, I’m in Heaven. Oh babe!”

Tom likes how you sing out his name, how loud you are, how wet his fingers are. He likes to taste your nipples under his tongue, aware of how much you want him taking his time there, which he does.

But to him, seeing you reaching your climax is a beautiful view his minds captures it in a mental photography. And he wants you so bad…

As he arches his back, this is the very moment he knows when to slide his cock in you, just as you are cumming he pumps in.

“OH LORD!”

Tom chuckles before letting a groan as he begins to fuck you nice and slow. Domineering you in a gentleman manner, he pins your hands above your head and hits your uterus intensely.

“Come, babe. Let us reach paradise together, shall we?”, he says quite breathless before wrapping a hand around your neck, sliding it then to your breast.

Two bodies lock as one. This is lust no more, but the consuming of long repressed flames. Sounds echo in the room as you and him find pleasure together.

When he slows down his pace, he cups your facd and says:

“I fucking love you, Y/N. You will be my wife one day, this I swear.”

Your reasonable self, experienced somehow by now, tells you not to buy this. But it’s not anyone you met. It’s Tom. Your sweet Tom.

Yours to behold and to love.

To care and cherish.

Yours alone.

“I love you, husband.”

And who knew in this night a solemn vow was made… only to be fulfilled in a few more months?

[gamora-borealis]

I had the most vivid dnp hard launch dream... a lot of it was confusing and random, I think they were somehow like living in an apartment across from mine and I knew them some and saw them holding hands in front of me very casually. Then it turned into this giant movie or documentary filmed very cinematically where Dan had released some kind of epic solo project and there were like other characters from the apartment complex who had storylines in this movie like at one point dan had passed out and they were trying to wake him up by playing really loud rock music. and at the climax of the movie there is a release party for this solo project and like huge Hollywood celebrities were there but also people from my work lol. Finally Dan appears in a white suit in the crowd and you see him look across the room and at first it looked like he was looking at this very hot celebrity guy but actually it was Phil standing just behind that guy in a pink suit. And he runs across the room to give Phil a hug and spins him around, and I was like sobbing watching this on an iPad. Then he brings Phil up to this center stage area where these journalists are and it's implied he's gonna give a speech to thank Phil and potentially hard launch. But he was kind of running up there dragging Phil along and they accidentally run into a journalist and they all fell over but she was holding a wine glass and it shattered and shards of glass got stuck in Dan's neck and they had to take him to the hospital. Before the ambulance came a guy from my work was administering first aid and I was like oh wow yeah I turned down going to this party because too many people but I'm glad he was there! Anyways Dan is fine and gets released a few days later and he and Phil walk out of the hospital holding hands and you see it as this camera angle below them where their hands are facing the sky and perfectly framed by the sun. Then all the paparazzi try to run up to them to get pictures but they only get pics once they are about to get in a car and dan is wearing this slightly sheer white short sleeve button down open over a T-shirt, and the button down is so oversized that because of the breeze it was like flowing and covering up them holding hands. And the paparazzi are like damn clearly they were holding hands but it's hard to see on camera they truly are masterminds of being vague!!! but in the camera they filmed the movie on you can clearly see them holding hands through Dan's shirt and you also already saw them holding hands so it's to imply like you the viewer of the movie get to know they were holding hands but they were still being cheeky about it within the world of this movie. And afterwards I was like this is the greatest thing I've ever seen and couldn't stop crying and even my dad was like yeah that's a great movie they talked about it on all my favorite podcasts (including Joe Rogan???) and then in the credits it was showing bloopers and irl moments between dnp and at one point they saw my apartment because I had left the door open on accident when I left one time and they were like dang it's so messy we should help her clean and I was aw like that's sweet of them but how embarrassing this is in this movie... and then it also showed unreleased pinof bloopers and the vegas vlog where they were holding hands and having fun and being giggly. then for some reason my mom came and was like oh here's some props from the movie and it was a bunch of old floppy discs but they were huge and had a DVD Cover-esque design on them of Battlestar Galactica or some kind of space show that was less popular than Star Trek and I was like wow this is so cool I kind of prefer these to CDs or DVDs! and then I woke up 😶

@dnp-dreams @phannie-dreams