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pia-nor481 · 11 months

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I can do it better

Max verstappen x reader smut 18+

3.6k words

She was sat on their-her bedroom floor trying to recollect herself when a loud knock to the front door broke her out of the state she was in. Her eyes were red and cheeks painted with tears. Hoping that the knocking would stop she continued to stare at herself in the full length mirror opposite her hunched over body. Evidently, it didn't stop, she practically shouted the person behind the door to wait a minute. In the mean time, she stumbled up, pulling a shirt over her body and rushing to the bathroom, in hope of cold water freshening her face up; Although it was hard to look presentable at this given time. She could barely stay up her two feet while walking towards the front door. She didn't know where her things were, phone definitely blowing up with her friends asking how her night went, even if they got a hold of her, she wouldn't answer, they'd had enough of her complaints of her love life.

Once she reached the door handle, she opened it a crack, trying to avoid her body being seen. "Sorry to just turn up but my flight leaves tomorrow and you weren't answering, and need some of my stuff before I go." Max was a pretty observant person, he had to be; so nothing slipped past him. "You open the door like this for all the men who knock?" He joked lightly, knowing she often took what he said in jest. He looked back up to her face when there was no further comment. "No, what's up? I can tell something is wrong." He said letting himself into her flat, placing his keys and phone on the counter next to hers, he saw the ample amount of WhatsApp notifications. "Come on, you can tell me what happened." It was so obvious that max still cared for her. Their relationship was always messy. They fought constantly, it started as little things; the floors not being cleaned properly or a few things left in awkward or annoying places. Both of their friends said it was good that they were fighting about things like that, claiming it was healthy to have small bits of conflict that could be quickly resolved. But it soon became a big problem when carer got involved, he was always traveling whether it be for the actual race, England to help with development of the car, or visiting his home to see his parents or even Monaco to be with his friends, but her job required her to be in one place. They tried hard to make it work, she book flights to come and see some of his races or he would stay until Wednesday night of the race week just to spend time with her, but it just wasn't enough.

There had been a few times were Max had heard her on the phone with her friends trying to convince her to break up with him, but every time she would shut them own. "He's toxic, leave him before it gets worse. There can't be anything that makes it worth the stress and disappointment." She would shake her head before remembering that they couldn't see her that's one thing Max really enjoyed, her tendency to show rather than speak. "If he's toxic, I'll wear a hazmat. You don't get it, I love him." Hearing her say things like that always made him smile. He loved her just as much, if not more. Every time he'd come back he would spend all his time awake comforting her, making her feel secure. She wasn't overly talkative when being asked questions, preferring to just shake her head or even pretend she didn't hear it; but not with max. He tried to make sure she would communicate with him, even when they fought, he'd let her scream and shout at him, he wanted to hear everything she had to say, so he knew how she felt, so he could help, He didn't get the luxury of expression when he was younger and that caused many problems. He learnt from this, he learned how to be better, he learned how to love. Max loved, no, loves her so much; it was hard for him to put it into words sometimes, she knew this, and was okay with him showing his love physically. That may have been a part of the problem, they were never close enough for him to show her how much he loved her. Although he is not the only one to blame, she was stubborn, overly so. She hated being wrong and so did he. So Max tried his hardest to not condescend her when she was wrong, but that wasn't often.

"Come on." He had to bite back the pet names he gave her in the years they spent together. "You can tell me what happened." She also hated voicing her concerns with him. She never worried about cheating, Max would never. It was like she felt neglected, but she couldn't say that, it was selfish, she was the one who said they could make the distance work. As max looked around the room he noticed how empty it was. With all of his things gone it didn't feel like home to her anymore. His house in Monaco didn't feel like home either, not without her. She looked up from her feet to meet his eyes. "It's embarrassing." His shoulders dropped, she was stupid sometimes, she didn't realised how silly that sounded to him. "And I've known you for how long?" He paused walking back towards her, resisting the urge to hold her close, to pull her into his chest and cradle her head. "At least it wasn't someone else's fault." he said slightly relieved, her eyes were still a cause for concern, even now he was prepared to fix any problem she had. The silence was loud, his anger pooled at his fists. "Right?" His eyes scanned over her whole body, making sure she wasn't hurt. "Its stupid, and I'm fine by the way. Can't you just grab your stuff and go?" she asked, almost pleading for him to leave. He was not going to leave her alone, not when she was like this.

Max went against his better judgement and hugged her, she needed it, no matter how many times she wanted to be left completely alone. "Tell me. You always feel better when you say what you're thinking, not just shouting at the mirror." She was almost reduced to tears, not only because of his words, but because she was so embarrassed. "Promise you wont laugh." She whispered through teary eyes. "Promise." He pulled his chest away, so he could look her in the eyes as she spoke. He wanted her to feel listened to, cared for. "So my friends set me up with his guy called Matthew, right." Any remaining anger turned into jealousy. He was fuming that his girl was going on a date with some guy. He pushed his feelings aside briefly, wanting to hear the rest of her story. "Well, we went out to this pretty nice place and it was going well, at least I thought so. Anyway, we came back here and he started kiss me, and you feel me up and stuff." She really didn't want to give her ex-boyfriend the details of her hook up. She paused still embarrassed. "Was he blonde and foreign as well?" Her face became warm as he let out a chuckle, this actually comforted him a bit, to see her go out with guys that reminded her of him. "Glad to see you have a type." She gave him a pointed look as an initial response. "Sorry, go on." Shifting her feet to avoid the shame. Max gave her sweet look, enticing her to speak. "When we, um, went to bed it was, uh, fine to start with but you know, he couldn't make me cum, it didn't seem like he was even trying." Her voice was shaky, her nerves were sky high, but she continued because, for once, Max was right. "So I may or may not have sent him out of the flat." She says with as sigh, looking up at her and grasping his arm for a bit of support ,not physical, but emotional, he was comforting to touch. "I am so glad I was your boyfriend and knew how to actually please you or I don't think we would have lasted as long as we did." He spoke with a crooked smile, ready of a light slap to his chest. "It's not funny Max." defeated, her shoulders slumped slightly as she tried to pull out of his tight grasp. "It is a little bit, oh no, please don't give me that look. I'm sorry I swear."

"So let me get this straight, you wanted to hook up with this guy, Matthew, and he was being a selfish prick, and now you are all desperate and pent up. That I can defiantly work with." Confusion covered her face as Max picked her up by her waist and began walking them towards the bedroom. She hooked her legs around his hips during his venture. She would often scold him for doing things without warning or saying things that he shouldn't. She began to kiss his neck, wanting his attention back on her. She knew it wasn't a good idea, but she would worry about the consequences later. One of his hands slid down her back, giving her ass a nice squeeze, he knew she liked it, not that she'd say so, he had to figure that out for himself.

Once his knees touched the edge of the bed, he placed her on it, immediately pushing her shirt up, "No underwear as well, you really do treat the guys at your door well." He let out with a smirk, before pushing her thighs apart further so he could slot between them. The ghost of his breath had her shuddering, she moaned when his lips finally touched her cunt, tongue licking a long stripe over her slit. Max looked up, not even being able to see her face as her head was thrown back at the slightest amount of pleasure. She really needed to feel him. He began to suck on her clit lightly, not wanting to rush into it and run the risk of ruining her orgasm, it hurt him to make her wait any longer, knowing she had spent so much time dissatisfied. Max shook his head side to side sending waves of bliss through her whole body.

Max got good at eating pussy from practicing on her. There were times where he spent more time between her legs than not. Her moans got louder as max put more pressure on her clit, heightening the sensation. "Could he not do this to you? No? That's what I thought." He breathed against her cunt, making her hips shift towards him. Max pulled her knees over his shoulders as he went back in, the noises that filled the room were quickly becoming pornographic. He could feel her twitching and clenching as he ate her out, Max moaned at the feeling, knowing it would tip her over the edge. "Yes, Max. Please, it feels so good." She barely got out, lungs burning. As she began gasping for air, Max could feel her ankles cross behind his back, squishing his head between her thighs. She came hard, harder than she'd done since the last time they were together. No matter who she slept with, no matter how many times she made herself cum it was never the same. "Did that feel good? Was that better than Matthew? Yeah, I know it is."

She pushed Max back slightly so she could slip off the bed and on to her knees. She undid his belt as quick as her shaky hands would allow her. She squeezed him lightly and ran her hand over his cock a few times before actually pulling it out, she licked a long stripe along the underside, right along the thick vein of his length. Max let out a breathy groan as she took his entire cock in her mouth, reaching down her throat. His hands quickly found her hair and made pace in tangling them. He guided her up and down his cock watching from above with a pleased look on his face. She pulled off with a loud pop, then she tongued the space between the head and shaft, he let out a guttural moan at the feeling, urging her to take him back in her mouth, it felt phenomenal. Once she hollowed her cheeks again it all became too much for max, she made him cum so hard he started to feel almost lightheaded, seeing stars, hunching over at the feeling. "Fuck, you feel so go baby. Always making me feel so good." He praised, not one lie leaving his lips, although he got to cum every time he had sex, it didn't feel as euphoric as it did with her.

"Get up here." he said, pulling her up to her tip toes for a kiss. He slipped his tongue practically down her throat, tasting himself in her mouth. Max never understood how other guys could possibly complain about their girlfriend wanting a kiss after blowing him. If she had no problem kissing him after eating her out, what was the difference? The mix was divine, it sent blood rushing to his cock almost immediately as their lips touched. He let his hands run wild over her body, missing the warm of her skin against his. He missed being able to touch every divot of her body. He missed the control he had over her, and the trust she had in him. He was almost as pent up as she was. Max made a point of picking her up again, just to throw her back down on the bed. He noticed the framed painting was put back up above the bed. When they were together, it was almost exclusively on the floor as they got lazy hunting for it behind the headboard, He was disappointed that it was placed back to its home. Max caged her head between her arms as he kissed his way down her abdomen before he gave her cunt one final kiss. He slid his cock over her clit just to tease, he got the same reaction buy only pushing the head in and out a few times before slowly slipping his whole cock in inch by inch. She was swimming in pleasure with max slowly marking her, her neck covered in bites, a few bleeding slightly, her chest was covered in red marks, he needed to mark her as his again, no one was allowed to touch what was his. Not anymore. "Fuck." Max strained, sounding breathless and choked as he continued to pound into her, just how she always liked. He was too hot not to moan over, so she did, and he indulged her, usually he'd have to cover her mouth with his hand or push her face into the pillows to avoid noise complaints, but tonight he'd let her do anything, all he wanted was her back in his arms. He continued to abuse her walls while she gripped the bedsheets tightly, her knuckles becoming white with the new found strength. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head while the remainder of her make up began to smudge and run. Max was fucking her so well her face was painted with tears of joy, and it was just so hot. Max became impossibly harder seeing her fucked out face. He stared to fuck her deeper, hitting that spot that made her go blind with pleasure. "Oh yes Max, always make me feel so good." Her inability to articulate proper sentences was a tell tale sign she was close. Max learned how to read her like a book and it was so beneficial in times like this.

He quickened his pace, feeling quite close himself. He could she some of this hook up guy's stuff still in her room and it just fuelled the fire. "Matthew didn't make you feel nearly this good did he, sweetheart. You can be honest because I already know." He was interrupted by a thud against the floor. "That's it, good fucking girl for me." he praised her, knowing she would melt from his words, his voice was something she admitted masturbating to when he was gone. She claimed it was mostly because of his accent, but also the tone and the pitch, it just got her so hot and bothered. "Think you can hold on just a little longer?" He asked, feeling her clench around his cock, it made it hard for him to resist. "Only for you, Max." she moaned aware it would edge him on further, fucking her felt exclusive, she was a rare and only he could have her. Perhaps he was a bit possessive, but that didn't matter now that he was with her. One of his hands slid up to her throat, pressing lightly on the sides to only slow the blood flow to her head; his other made way to her clit, rubbing fast circles with just enough pressure to really make it feel good. "Please, just.. just like tha..that." She managed to slur out before her words were cut off by a whine. Her orgasm hit so hard that her head was pushing deep in the mattress and her legs began to spasm and shake. Max only now allowed him self to cum, while she was coming down. He pulled out, shooting plenty of long, thick ropes of cum all over her torso, mainly her perfect tits that her just couldn't resist. They both sighed quietly with small laugh.

Max gave her a chaste kiss before walking leisurely to the bathroom and picking up a towel to clean her up a bit. On his way back he turned the AC on, anticipating that she would ask him to stay; if he was he want to be touching her the entire time, in order to keep her close he needed the room cold. He brushed the towel over she skin as gently as possible, although it still pulled a moan from her. "I know, but I have to, Darling." He threw the towel to the corner of the room, knowing she'd complain about it later. "Were are my clothes?" He asked quietly, looking back at her on the bed with a grin plastered to her face. "Where you left them before moving out." still in the wardrobe would have been an easier answer but she wanted him to know she didn't want him gone. She anticipated him coming back and wanting to stay, as usual she was right. He put his classic black t-shirt on before climbing in bed with her. "I'm not putting that frame back up." was the first thing she said after coming out of her orgasmic haze. He pulled her practically on top of his body and held her close, as if someone was going to take her from him. "I know." was all he said, trying to think of the right words to convey his feelings. "I never stopped loving you." Was all he could say so he coupled it with a tight squeeze. "I know." It was her turn to give a dry reply and kiss his neck sweetly. "This is great pillow talk." Max laughed out quietly and he could feel her smile against his chest. "I'm so sorry, I should have tried harder. I shouldn't have blamed you as much as I did, I'm just as responsible. And I most definitely should not have told you to leave and never come back. I regretted it immediately, you know. As soon as I heard the door shut I lost it. I don't deserve you Max, but I need you so much." His heart ached hearing her confession, feeling her tears wet his shirt slightly. "I shouldn't have walked out. I know what you're like when you get angry. As soon I closed that door I couldn't bring myself to leave. I slept outside that door, your neighbour asked what happened and I started crying to her. I kept in touch with your friends, or at least I tried to. I needed to make sure you were okay, but it doesn't seem like they like me much. So don't say you don't deserve me, you do. We will make it to the end, I promise you. I wont lose you again. I love you too much for that." She wiped her now joyful tears as she kissed his lips again.

There was a loud repeated knock on her door, they tried to ignore it, assuming it was their neighbours complaining about the noise, they normally gave up after a few knocks. But this one persisted. "You stay here and keep warm alright, I'll se who it is." Max got out of the bed a recovered her body in blankets while walking with unnecessary pace towards the door. He swung it open aggressively. "Look I'm sorry about that but can I just get the rest of my clothes and leave, there's no need to-" The guy, who max assumed to me Matthew, stopped upon seeing Max. "Sorry man, but that's not happening. Not while I'm here. I don't think you even deserve it, especially if you can't make such a desperate woman come. Only took me three minutes . So fuck off now will you." Max said before slamming the door, feeling relieved as he reached her again. "I love you so much Max."

#f1 x reader #f1 x reader smut #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 smut #max verstappen x reader smut #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #f1 fic #33 max verstappen #MV:33

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meo-eiru · 23 days

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*cracks knuckles* here I am again. this time with Micah as my victim

so at first,

you definitely should add some more story to him. so far, if I'm being honest, he feels a bit too plain to me. but oh boy, what a potential I see here!

alright lets begin

omg look at him! such a hypocrite! how smart it is, to put all blame on MC while being just as (actually even more) sinful. and he sure hides well; it's your fault, isn't it? oh you and your sinful mind.

buut despite him not really being my cup of tea, I still do like a good old concept of ugly insides, hidden behind a beautiful shell (if that's the vibe you were going for).

Micah seems so pure, so holy, almost like an angel (you played smart by adding a lot of white in his design) – but behind that pristine facade? he's ugly. and that shell eventually starts to crack, because no matter how pure he may seem, Micah is just as human as we are, and definitely not a good one. and what are we, if not a bunch of cruel, egotistical animals? and deep inside he's exactly that, sickeningly human. with that in mind the very first comic you did abt him is actually pretty hilarious to me. your desires? what about his desires, which are strong enough to ruin your whole life?

I kinda feel like he's also a little pathetic in his own way; if he can't make you fall for him, he will break you. isn't it like a very cowardly move? he wants you badly enough to use whatever method it may require to have you, but will never admit it.

but let's talk about that strange desire to destroy MC's purity. why? to make you just as dirty as he is? cute, but doesn't seem like a full explanation to me. he's a priest, right? and even despite those dark insides of his, I feel like Micah still kept at least some of the priest mindset. I mean, they're raised and taught with a very strict discipline. so I feel like deep down, he feels bad (not ashamed, but in a "how dare they" way) for his attraction to you, and punishes you for that attraction. it's not your fault, of course, but who cares? you managed to destroy his perfect, clean facade, which he was methodically building for his whole life with simply your existence. isn't that unfair? so now you must fall into the depths of hell with him.

I like how we can't justify him. Micah is perfectly aware of what he is doing. and of twisted nature of his feelings too, I think, yet still chooses to indulge in his desires, even if it hurts you, the person he was supposed to love and cherish. he makes me feel an absolute, poetic rage, and I love a character I can hate. (don't get me wrong, it meant to be a praise)

and I absolutely adore his design. also if I was on point with the idea you meant for him, that is wonderful too. if a character makes me feel something, I like that character. but girl, you really should add more details about him. because everything I've written here is, basically, just my own brainstorming and bare theories. Micah needs to have more meat on him for a full character analysis >_>

but anyway, I actually have a question.

what if MC wasn't in any way pure? what if they're a complete opposite of that word? count it on my love for hunchback of notre dame

unlike the nun MC, I suggest a MC who fully embraces their sins. like an evil succubus, they enjoy the joys of being tainted. they know what influence they have on their dear Father Micah, and isn't ashamed of that. I feel like that would make a pretty interesting story

(cough cough draw him blushing and moaning and my life is yours darling)

Another absolutely incredible ask I'll have a field day answering.

I do agree with him being a bit under developed at the moment. Micah was a bit unfortunate as in he was never meant to be an actual character. He was just a momentary creation who existed for me to study color theory. A beautiful man of flowers who didn't have an identity.

Then he joined the cast when I was busy with working on commissions and the 5k celebration comic so I didn't have the time to draw his introduction comic with the things I had planned for him, though I've been trying my best to explore him a bit more thru asks like this one. The fact that I don't want to spoil the stuff I'll draw in his comic is also holding me back a little.

I think Micah is evil, but not completely bad. A man who was born twisted, who was raised into goodness, and even with all the love he received never truly got rid of his inner darkness, but just once, just for one moment, I think he had good in his heart. And that is when he first saw you.

With all his twistedness, all his evilness, all his darkness, I think that love he felt for you was truly pure. Because in his eyes you appeared truly beautiful, like a pure lily.

But Micah isn't a pure man, neither does he want to be. So he prefers to pull you down to his level, so that you two can be sinful together. A truly impure way of feeling that pure and innocent love.

I have gotten asks about him with a more rowdy darling, one who isn't a nun or one who is more sinful. I've been really brainstorming about it but I don't think it would work. Not because I personally can't force the story into being like that but because I think it was just not meant to be like that.

You see I do come up with the characters, but I don't control their actions. If the character is unwilling I can't shape the story to my will. Because that story is their life and they control it. The best I can do is to try to fill the gaps I can.

I might prefer submissive yanderes, I might want Micah to have a more sinful darling instead but it wouldn't be Micah's story anymore. That's one of the reasons why he's so different from the rest of the boys. I'm not super into very dominant guys, I could probably count the ones I have with one hand, it wasn't my intention for Micah to be the way he is, but I don't think he could've been any other way.

Micah was just meant to be manipulative, a gaslighter, a dirty man who'll pull anything to push you below him.

I guess me looking at my stories from an actual novel or manga perspective also contributes to this. Father Micah exists to shine with a darling who he can soil.

Now the darling can maybe go against him in the future, she might rebel or give in to his sinful ways, but that's a different story.

#asks #micah #yandere priest #yandere priest x reader #fanart #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #male yandere #yandere

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ghostaholics · 1 year

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𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐋𝐋𝐎𝐖𝐒

➸ PAIRING: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x fem!reader (established relationship) ➸ WARNING(S): [ 18+ ] body shots; oral (receiving); ruined orgasm; basically PWP with slight BDSM (disciplinary action) ➸ SUMMARY: Simon teaches you a very important lesson about holding still – extended version of this. ➸ A/N: Thank you to @mvtthewmurdvck who lets me bitch about anything and everything including this and offered kind words when I certainly lost faith in the whole thing. ➸ WORD COUNT: 2.2k

𝐊𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐁𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐈𝐌𝐎𝐍’𝐒 𝐋𝐈𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄. Pilfered from his not-so-secret stash and running low with about a quarter left; the contents slosh around in their bottle-shaped confinement as he stalks into the room with a heavy hand swallowing around the widest circumference of the glass.

Good memories, usually. Like the first time he’d brandished his titanium pocket flask for you to take a sip. You’d scrunched your nose, feigning disapproval of the drink. And he'd said – cheeky as always – with a low-timbered response:

"Don't worry. The taste of your cunt's still my favourite."

But now, there’s no trace of that Simon anywhere to be seen. His face is entirely devoid of the amusement he already so rarely expressed. Stone-rigid. Unimpressed. Disappointed – seems like – and certainly not in the mood for any games.

❝ 𝐂𝐀𝐍'𝐓 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐒 𝐀 𝐑𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓, 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐇? ❞

It's a red-hot brand searing the edges of your memory (charred, ash-coated, lined by the cinders of a poor attempt on your part that had gone up into flickering embers).

See, the brain remembers it well.

Your cunt, too: the walls hugging his cock, full of his cum – excessively so, nearly bursting with it after he'd buried himself to the hilt and stayed inside just to plug your snug little hole, ensuring that none of it would dribble out after he’d fucked you senseless. He’d given you plenty, more than enough. And it’d been generous of Simon. A gift, really, considering the enormity of the initial request.

Make me yours?

He’d only had one thing to say, just a simple favour in return for doing this, for indulging you. His voice had been hoarse, sandpaper-rough from overuse – your fault entirely – eroded away after being subjected to a whole night's worth of groaning against the shell of your ear and telling you just how fucking good you felt before you'd milked him for everything he was worth with your greedy, pulsing self.

Keep it all in then.

You’d done your best not to clench, but stretched taut around the girth of his cock like that, you'd just wanted to readjust. Not a lot. But the position you'd been in wasn't the most conducive one for this. And you’d shifted – barely, practically inconsequential (or so you’d thought) – to where you wouldn’t have even thought it’d matter except—

It had.

Pushed some of it out, that is. A stream of cum trickling down onto an area of the duvet, staining it – the unfortunate aftermath of your decision to move.

Thas’ a shame. Thought you wanted it. Guess I was wrong.

Simon comes to a stop at the foot of the bed where you're sitting; he towers over you – an intimidating, subduing presence without even having to try. "Had to wash the sheets because you couldn't keep it all in.”

You blink in surprise as your mouth parts slightly in what you're sure must be a dumbfounded expression. Of course, this is nothing new. You were there. Responsible for the incident, apparently. And though it wasn't necessarily your fault, you still feel the need to explain that it was due to factors beyond your control. “There was so much—” (As if it'll help your case.)

But he's never cared much for excuses.

“How ‘m I supposed to finish inside you knowing that you’re just going to waste it?” he asks. It's a rhetorical question, not one that actually requires an answer.

Your chin tips down in a silent apology. There's something heavy sitting in your chest; remorse, you think.

He grips your jaw in his hand, forces you to look at him. “Yeah, love. We’ll fix that. Gonna teach you how to be grateful, how to understand the value in the things I give to you."

𝐈𝐓'𝐒 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐎𝐖 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐂𝐄𝐒𝐒.

He makes you tell him your colors.

You do.

He asks if you know what you’re supposed to get out of this.

You answer that he’s probably going to have to wash the sheets again before you can learn whatever lesson he’s trying to impose on you.

Yeah, that earns you a sharp pinch to the hip.

That massive body of his sinks to the floor, one leg bending down before the other joins it, rough carpet cutting into his knees, undoubtedly. Then, his fingers curl around your legs, blunt digits sinking in – ten identical divots pressed into the flesh. He leaves light indentations with his palms spanning along the sides of your thighs to spread you open while his elbows anchor into the mattress.

Heat blooms across your skin, every surface that he touches and even in the places that he doesn't – white-hot, intentional (and he never does anything without purpose); it sparks a fever that fans out, unfurls. There's no part of you left unaffected. You're growing warmer by a few degrees. Doesn't sound like much, but it's enough to make a noticeable difference if the beads of sweat gathering at the back of your neck are any indication.

And Simon lets out a soft scoff. Cocky. Like he knew what was waiting for him—

You're soaked, absolutely drenched. Cotton panties, sticky –saturated beyond belief. If you looked there yourself, you wouldn't be surprised to find a damp patch on the fabric steadily growing in size.

He's such a sight, too: the contour of his muscles shifting and rippling, all brawn and power – his presence speaking volumes about just who holds the cards right now, undeniably the one in control here; the visual of his stature and build emphasize that. And authority bleeding from the width of his shoulders if not spelled out by his words alone.

"Haven't even touched you, and you're already dripping," he murmurs. "Why?"

Your mouth trips and stutters over your own words the same way your heart trips and stutters over his. "Because you—y-you're..."

His thumbs hook into your panties, slowly peels them away – not an easy feat, damn things are clinging to your cunt – before dragging them down your legs. "Say it, sweetheart. What do you think I'm gonna do to you?"

And your mind is racing, jumping too many steps ahead. "You're going to eat me out?"

Simon stuffs his panties in his back pocket for safekeeping. A souvenir, since there won't be much use for them now. "I'm gonna eat you out," he affirms.

"Mhm, yeah. Want your mouth on me."

"Whether or not you come depends entirely on if I feel like letting you."

"Oh—"

"Spill a single drop, and you don't come tonight," he says, never one to draw out the details. His instructions are concise, uncomplicated. Then, further inquiry. "We clear?"

"Yeah..." you say with a shaky breath before trying to regain some semblance of composure. "Yes."

"Good girl," he purrs low, almost a growl – though you're not quite certain that you deserve the praise yet.

He’s answering to a shrine, beckoned forward by the invitation of a wet cunt and the promise of a taste of your slick. He pauses, takes a brief moment to admire it in his own way, almost reverent as he takes in how your arousal’s smeared everywhere from your folds to your inner thighs (all for him, because of him – isn’t that right?).

But make no mistake, there’s absolutely nothing respectful about the act that comes next. Simon leans, forces his shoulders to hold you open, before he bows his head and he licks; it’s a hungry tongue lapping at the slit, everything terribly hot and wet – the sensation makes you jolt upon first contact because it's too much. So, so much.

And at the same time, not enough.

The feeling spikes along the circuit running from your head to your toes – empty thoughts save for the white static that buzzes in the hollow of your skull, a tingling, prickling paresthesia-sort-of-thing that usually accompanies the high of an orgasm. Except, the irony’s not lost on you in this instance; he’s hardly even begun to wreak havoc on your cunt yet.

Currents zip down your spine, down, further down, everything else collateral damage. No part of you is spared by the overwhelming fervor responsible for it – the initial onslaught of his mouth laying waste at the spread of your entrance.

Every single nerve-ending is on-edge, trigger-sensitive as he sucks, and kisses, and fuck are his groans heavy, bone-deep, the rumble of a thunderstorm gathering in his chest. They radiate from the point of origin where your core’s suffering, reverberating tremors that diffuse out to the rest of you. It makes your skin thrum like a live wire. There’s no hope of staying in a fixed position if he keeps this up. How could you? The odds are zero to none. It isn’t feasible.

You forget your place, can't help but squirm within his iron grip.

Then, Simon; a severe reprimand— "Watch it," he rasps. It’s a lull amidst the incursion, an unplanned interlude. Temporary reprieve (barely) so he can scold you for your inability to follow his instructions.

A low whimper leaves your throat. That's completely out of the question, beyond what you're currently capable of. Easier said than done. "I'm trying—"

"Then try harder."

Despite how weighed down your eyelids feel, you manage to guide your laden gaze south, let it roam over your stomach. The dark, amber liquid in your navel sways; it rocks, sloshes with the tide, a consequence born from the pull and heave of your jarring movements. Exercise caution. This is delicate work – a balancing act. Those thoughts are cloudy.

Your mind is fuzzy, thick, a drunken haze. Buzzed, lightheaded. And everything's off-kilter. But you haven't had a single drop of alcohol. None at all. Couldn’t, because everything's still sitting in your navel right there like it’s supposed to.

Simon dips his head back between your legs, continues to seal his mouth over you, flattening his tongue to lick thick stripes from your entrance to your clit. He doesn't let up, only bringing his face closer, following that same path again and again and again – agonizing – until you're trembling. The noises he’s making, something debauched and bottomless – one wet groan after the other. This isn't for you. It's for him, that much is clear.

You plead anyways, hoping he'll grant you an amnesty that you haven't earned in the least bit, "Need you inside. Anything, just—"

"Sure you can handle it?"

Breathless when you say, "Ah, yeah..."

"We'll see about that," Simon murmurs.

He doesn't believe you.

To be fair, you’re not so sure you do either.

But he's courteous, slips one finger in and lets you clamp around him. And your cunt flutters, welcomes the feeling.

You release a soft moan. “Want more, Si. Feels good."

His face turns to the side, wet nose and chin grazing along your thigh to spread the slick in more places that haven't been drenched yet. Then he bites. Gentle. An admonishment. Nothing serious about it though: scraping, the light pressure of teeth sinking into the skin as he pulls with his mouth.

You jerk suddenly before catching yourself.

"Don't be fuckin' greedy. You'll take what I give you, and you'll thank me for it." He's curt, perfunctory. No delay as he offers up his two fingers to your mouth. The expectation is clear. “Suck.” And he's waiting.

You wrap your lips around them, swallowing him down, not one to squander an opportunity sitting in front of you, right? You understand that now.

“So tell me how good you taste.”

"I-um, taste good—"

"Yeah, you fuckin' do."

"Thank you."

“Mhm.”

You can't see it, but you can hear it: the low clinking of a belt being unbuckled, the sound of a zipper being undone. Clinking metal and rustling denim being tampered with somewhere below your line of sight as he reaches down, almost like he— is he… oh.

Most of his body's obscured by the edge of the bed, but everything from the chest up is still visible. Simon's shoulder is bobbing slightly, arm pumping back and forth in a rhythmic motion and fuck, he's getting himself off to this.

That sends another spark of arousal to your core, makes you gush. It adds to the mess coating his jaw, his chin, his lips. You whimper out something – broken syllables – his name, maybe. You’re not entirely sure.

God, you’re almost there. So close. Wound up tight, hips rolling against his mouth, chasing his tongue—

Until he stops entirely. No contact. Simon pulls away in such a rush that you gasp, startled.

"Look at that." Accusatory.

It's a trail of liquor dribbling over the curve of your stomach, down your side in small rivulets. There are streaks pooling onto the sheets underneath you. Tragic.

(Couldn't help yourself, huh?)

Guilty as charged.

Shit.

"What'd I say – told you to hold still, yeah?"

And even though you had a feeling it would happen, you still have the nerve to act surprised at the result. "Fuck," you whine pathetically. "Was so close—"

"We're starting over. Don't care if it takes us all night, we're gonna keep at this 'til you get it right or you use up the rest of the whiskey," he says, readying himself to deposit another pour of alcohol into your navel. Simon lifts his shoulder in a light shrug like he can't be bothered about the final outcome. "Better pray that it works out before the bottle’s empty. Won't let you finish otherwise, sweetheart. Understand?"

#honestly i got so lazy towards the end but that is not my problem #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #ghost x you #ghost x reader #cod mw x reader #simon riley smut #ghost smut #simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x you #simon ghost riley x reader #cod mw 2 #call of duty smuty #ghost cod

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eddies-ashtray · 2 years

Text

Knee Socks // Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Masterlist

Synopsis: Eddie has a thing for his best friend's thighs. She catches him jerking off and Eddie’s fantasy becomes reality. Part 2 to this blurb (though this can be read independently).

WC: 2.7k

Category: Smut (18+).

Content: Eddie’s thigh kink, knee socks kink (?), kinda perv Eddie, kinda ditzy reader, masturbation (male receiving), fem receiving oral (face riding), nicknames.

A/N: This is for my girls with thick thighs. I love you and you are gorgeous. Also, I have a tag list, but not everyone who liked the tag list post will be tagged here since many of the blogs do not have their ages in their bios--which is a requirement to be added to the tag list that many people ignored ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

♡*♡*♡

Eddie’s never endured torture before but he is pretty sure that he has a good idea of what it would feel like. And he is currently experiencing it.

It’s a lazy Saturday evening and you and Eddie have spent the day together, which is the furthest thing from torture in his opinion. It’s the opposite of torture, actually; Eddie cherishes your company more than anything in the world.

Right now though, you lay next to him on his bed—you, on your belly facing him, and Eddie, leaning against the headboard with his acoustic guitar in his lap—as you doodle in your notebook while humming one of his songs. And while that is nearly enough to send him into overdrive, you are also wearing a brand new skirt. The torture device itself.

Eddie knew he was in for the most torturous day when he answered his door and you were there in your black knee socks and that skirt, presenting it to him excitedly by giving him a twirl on his doorstep. He hadn’t missed the way your thighs jiggled with the movement. In fact, he fixated on it and forced himself to stifle a groan at the sight as you exclaimed, it even has pockets!

Previously, Eddie had thought that your red skirt and knee socks were the most deadly pairing, but this one–oh, God, this one. It’s a simple black skirt, nothing super fancy, but it is so—so—short that he’s sure that if you bent over, he’d get a pretty view of the curve of your ass and your soft cunt through your panties. The thought has his mouth watering instantly.

He’s torn because he never wants you to leave, but he also really needs you to leave so he can take care of the growing bulge in his pants. Eddie is thankful he has his guitar covering his lap.

Luckily, his dilemma is solved when you glance over at his alarm clock and say, “Oh! Shoot, I need to get home.” As you begin to shove your things into your bag.

Relief floods over him, followed by a wave of guilt. He should not want his best friend to leave so he can jack off to the thought of her and the way her pretty, thick thighs look in her new skirt.

Eddie’s about to climb off the bed after you get up, intending to walk you out even though his bedroom is no more than 20 short paces from the front door of the trailer. But he’s stopped by your hand on his arm applying gentle pressure to stop him from standing, the contact causing his face to burn hot and the skin under your hand to sizzle with electricity.

“Don’t worry, Eddie, I can find my way to the door,” You tell him, not wanting him to have to walk you to his door. It’s not exactly far.

“Oh, alright,” Eddie agrees without protest. He wouldn’t have to awkwardly hide his hardness from you after all.

“See you tomorrow! Bye, Eddie,” You say with a dazzling smile as you open his bedroom door, giving him a little wave just before you exit his room and shut the door.

“Bye,” Eddie says just as his door clicks shut.

Sitting very still for about 15 seconds, he waits for the resolute slam of the trailer door before he hurriedly stands from his bed to place his acoustic guitar on its stand, and shoves his jeans down his legs, nearly tripping on his way back to his bed.

Another wave of guilt crashes over him for a moment before fizzling out as he settles back on the bed and squeezes himself at the base of his cock. He’s already leaking pre-cum, his boxers likely stained from the sticky substance.

“Fuck,” Eddie groans, flicking his wrist on his first stroke and running his thumb over the bright red tip. Pressing the tip of his thumb meanly into his leaking hole, Eddie moans loudly, unabashed in the empty trailer.

The guilty part of him encourages him to get on with it, to stop teasing himself so the shameful act of thinking of you while he touches himself can be over with as soon as possible. So he does, quickly spitting thickly into his hand before wrapping it back around his thick length. Because he’s painfully hard, and desperate, and can’t fight off the image of your plush thighs as his fist flies over the length of his flushed cock.

Just as he’s getting into a fast, pleasurable rhythm, the worst–best?–thing happens. And it happens so quickly that he doesn’t have the time to stop, or throw a sheet over himself, or do anything that would make this moment less awkward.

His bedroom door whips open.

“Sorry, Teddy, I forgot my-”

But Eddie doesn’t get to find out what you’d left behind. Because you freeze in his doorway. You, and your knee socks, and your teeny tiny skirt, and your mouth-watering thighs freeze at the cusp of his bedroom while he’s half naked in his bed as he pumps his cock to the thought of you. It throbs in his hand at the sight of you in all your gorgeous glory, stunned into silence—except for the tiny half-gasp, half-squeak that leaves you.

This moment would be a whole lot more awkward and embarrassing if you’d done what he’d expected you to do the moment that door had opened. But you do none of what he thought you might. You hadn’t screamed in horror and covered your eyes or slammed his door shut and left immediately, leaving behind whatever it was you had left here. No, instead, you stand there, unable to take your eyes off his pretty, thick cock. Unable to remove your gaze from the pearly pre-cum dripping from his tip and the way his large hand moves over his length. Instead, you visibly swallow and rub your thighs together as if you’re trying to provide some relief for yourself. As if the sight of Eddie on his bed touching himself is enough to make you wet, to make your cunt ache with desire.

So, all of this considered, Eddie takes a chance.

Eddie takes a chance when he begins to lazily stroke his cock again in a much slower rhythm, teasing you. Your eyes widen to the size of saucers at the movement.

Eddie takes a chance when he says, “C’mere, sweetheart.” As his back arches just slightly off the bed when he tightens his fist around his girth on an upstroke.

For the first time since you’d caught him, your gaze shifts from his cock to his face–which is probably tinged a pretty pink right about now, shades lighter than his tip.

“W-what?” You stutter, delicate hand still poised on the door knob.

“I said: come here, sweetheart,” Eddie repeats slowly and more commanding this time.

It takes a moment, but eventually you scramble toward him while he continues the most torturous pace of his fist over his cock.

Eddie had thought that earlier–when he was forced to watch you prance around his bedroom in that skirt and those knee socks–had been torture. But now, here you are, crawling onto his bed, and his palms are itching to reach out and touch you.

Once you’re settled on your knees next to him–your skirt now bunched up high on your thighs from the way you’re kneeling–, you reach out to replace his hand with your own, but Eddie has different plans.

“Nuh-uh-uh,” he hums, clicking his tongue in disapproval, halting your movements.

Your gaze finds his eyes as your lips melt into a delicate pout. You, disappointed at the fact that he told you not to touch his cock.

“But-please?” You beg, voice watery, and Eddie thinks he could cum just from your simple pleading to touch him.

A slow, pleased smile spreads across his face before he clarifies, “I’ve been dreaming of something else, sweetheart...” His gaze falling to your legs and his free hand creeping up your thigh–causing goosebumps to rise in their wake–where he toys with the edge of your skirt. “And I’m just dying to have a taste.”

“Oh,” You reply dumbly, breathlessly. “Yes, please.”

Eddie’s brows knit together, pained by your sweetness. “God, you’re just the sweetest thing, aren’t you, angel?” He says, stroking your thigh gently with his thumb.

Your head ducks bashfully at the new nickname and his remark and it’s all making his cock somehow harder and his belly stickier with pre-cum. His hand slows to a stop on his cock, sure that if he kept it up, he’d be cumming any second now.

“Alright, angel, get up here,” Eddie instructs, tapping his chest. “Want these pretty thighs around my head,” He says with a mean squeeze to the dough of your thigh.

He expects you to reach underneath your skirt to tug off your panties before you climb over him, but instead you move to straddle his chest immediately. Since your skirt is so short, it simply bunches around your hips with the new position. And he finds the most wonderful sight once you’re hovering over his face: your naked cunt, already slick and glistening. Saliva fills his mouth at the view and he groans. You’d been in his home all day, wearing that tiny skirt without any panties, knowing full well that he’d get an eyeful if you so much as bent over.

“Naughty girl,” Eddie growls as he brings both his arms around your thighs before turning his head to place a gentle kiss to the plushness of your left thigh. It’s just as soft beneath his lips as he thought it would be.

With his hands now gripping the outsides of your thighs, Eddie finds they are soft and sweet, so pillowy they feel like clouds beneath his fingertips. Digging his fingers into the flesh roughly, greedily, Eddie begins sucking a harsh bruise into your thigh, causing you to whimper pathetically above him.

If a heaven existed, this would be it.

Though he’s dreamt of marking you up, of scattering bruises across your pretty thighs and admiring his work, it would take some time to do it just the way he wants. And right now, his craving for a taste of your soaked cunt—which hovers teasingly above him like a feast after months of not eating—is so overwhelming Eddie simply cannot wait any longer to devour you. He’ll take his time with you another day, but right now all he knows is that he might die if he goes another second without his mouth on your puffy cunt.

So, Eddie tightens his grip around your thighs and pulls you forcefully down onto his tongue, causing you to gasp in shock at the swift action.

Eddie’s groan of pleasure rivals your moan as his tongue rolls teasingly over your pudgy clit for the first time. Then, he flattens his tongue and licks a thick strip from your slick-leaking hole all the way up your cunt, getting a proper taste of you. You’re a slice of heaven.

“Oh! E-Eddie!” You cry, and this only causes his hips to thrust into the air in search of friction, of relief. But he’ll neglect his cock forever in favour of your taste on his tongue.

The crush of curls on your mound glistens with your slick now as Eddie begins to devour you messily, shaking his head back and forth in a fast motion, an action that represents his carnal hunger for you. When you roll your hips hungrily over his tongue, his cock throbs on his belly where it lays, steadily leaking pre-cum.

“There you go, angel. Use my tongue,” Eddie encourages after pulling away for a moment. The seconds it takes him to say that to you when he doesn’t have his mouth on you are torturous.

Once he gets his tongue back on you, the point of it seeks out that little magic button that has you rolling your hips more aggressively over his face. You’re a messy, moaning angel above him as he tongues at your clit.

Eddie thinks this is the happiest he has ever been; the prettiest girl in the world sitting on his faceher thighs pressing against his ears so tightly her moans are muffled slightly and her cunt on his tongue so wet he can hardly fathom it.

“Mmh, p-please!” You beg, though he’s not sure for what. But he realizes he doesn’t care because you are so vocal and listening to you moan and beg above him is his new favourite song.

Again, Eddie flattens his tongue over your messy cunt, but this time pushes his tongue into your weeping hole, and begins to thrust it in and out as he brings one of his hands up and around to toy with your clit with his thumb. This combination seems to be your favourite as you moan wantonly above him, hands flying down from where they were previously gripping the headboard to crush into the curls atop his head.

“Oh, God,” You moan, shivering above him, totally blissed out as your eyes roll into the back of your head, your eyelids slide closed, and your head tips back. The delicious slide of his tongue in and out of you combined with his thumb rubbing meanly into your clit is just too much.

Eddie can feel your slick dripping down his cheeks and chin, but he doesn’t mind in the least. In fact, he basks in the sticky mess of it all. Sex is not worth it if it doesn't get messy.

Your hips roll over his tongue again and your hands in his hair pull harshly, causing Eddie to moan at the prickling sensation, cock twitching at the mixture of the pleasure and pain of the action.

“Fuck! G-gonna cum, Eddie! Please, please can I cum?” You plead weakly from above, eyes finding his, which have remained open this whole time, not wanting to miss a single second of this glorious moment.

Unwilling to pull away from you in order to answer, Eddie simply mumbles something that sounds almost like yes against your cunt. You seem to understand though because Eddie can feel you clench around his tongue, all the while his thumb continues to rub tight circles into your clit. Your eyes screw shut as you ride out your orgasm, squeaking out the cutest moan when your mouth falls into a pretty O shape, and you thank him over and over again. Soon, your hips halt their movements and you pull in heaving breaths.

Whimpering as you gently push his hand away from your sensitive clit, you collapse forward against the headboard behind him. You could stay like this for as long as you needed—forever if you wanted to—and Eddie would forever be happy right here between your thighs with your cum smeared across his chin and cheeks and your taste heavy on his tongue.

Unfortunately, that is not a realistic fantasy, and eventually Eddie is helping you off of his face and you’re collapsing next to him, breathing heavily even still.

Rolling over onto his side to look at you, he smiles at the sweat dotting your forehead, and brings a hand up to your face, tenderly stroking your warm cheek with the back of his clean index finger. You nuzzle into the touch and smile lazily up at the ceiling.

Eddie doesn’t have to ask to know the answer to his question, but he wants to hear it from you anyway. Wants to confirm that his dreams have just come to fruition and you are actually laying here, clothes rumpled and your wetness staining his sheets.

“How was that?”

Your head lolls to the side and you gaze up at him incredulously. His face is shiny, covered in your wetness. It causes a new warmth to bloom in your chest.

Despite the fact that you thought it was obvious just how much you’d enjoyed it, you sigh dreamily: “Wonderful.”

And Eddie can’t wait to make you feel wonderful again and again and again, to make you cum so hard you not only see stars, but entire galaxies.

♡*♡*♡

Tag List: @tvserie-s-world @micheledawn1975 @hi-im-a @bbellee @apricxtt @rhirojo @daraperl @lmili @lunatictardis @sw34terw34ther @sarcasm-is-my-form-of-attack @stardust-galaxies @d20eddie @niragis-right-hand-rabbit @bunniwarrior @trashpackbitxh @yoursunnydelorean @seweratwitch @hunnimilkteaaa @pretty-rad-for-a-redhead @a-villain-vying-for-attention @lil-graveling @msmimiandrew @eddies-lover @whoreforhowl @saramelaniemoon @brittanyyydamnit @winnifredburkleismyhero @edsforehead

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tarot-by-e11e · 1 month

Text

PAC: "What are you in denial about?"

After a long time of doing ask games, I finally got to sit on my procrastinating tush and try making another PAC reading.

We all have something we struggle to accept about ourselves, things we are subconsciously in denial about. It can be a habit, a little quirk that we're lowkey embarrassed about, or anything about ourselves that we tend to struggle to openly admit.

So, I want everyone who sees this PAC to know...

"Every facet, every aspect of yourself, even the parts that you struggle to accept or find a hard time resonating with, every little thing that makes the whole you, is worth loving and accepting.

Always remember, you're never too much or not enough for the right person."

(Note: this is for entertainment purposes only. Feel free to accept the parts that resonate and leave what doesn't. Never forget that you have free will.)

Choose the picture that you intuitively feel called to:

(the images do not belong to me.)

(TW: Some piles mentioned heavy topics, like pain, trauma or ab-se. Don't read through this pile if you're already going through tough times.)

Pile 1: 8 of Wands, Page of Swords, 6 of Wands

Hi Pile 1, the first thing that you are in denial about is how cutthroat your cut-off game is~ You’re the type that doesn’t really need a lot of time to recover from any terrible/unfortunate situation in your life. You’re not the type to cry over spilled milk.

For you, the world doesn’t stop spinning regardless if you cry your heart out or eat a whole tub of ice cream under your weighted blanket, so why get stuck with what ended?

Another interpretation for the first card is your ability to make sound decisions on the spot. This applies to your career. If a certain opportunity shows up in front of you, you can make decisive actions then and there, whether you would accept it or redirect this opportunity to someone who fits their description more.

With this specific interpretation, I picked up that Pile 1 is ambitious but not greedy (which is considered as rare combo in this day and age). If you happen to encounter a chance opportunity that will greatly benefit someone else, you don’t hesitate to recommend that person instead of taking the opportunity yourself.

It would seem that this pile subconsciously knows that opportunities are everywhere and it doesn’t run out. So why take every opportunity in front of you when you know one of your peers better fits that opportunity's requirements and skillset? You’re the pile that loves to share your blessings because sharing is caring~

The last tidbit interpretation for the first card is you’re in denial about your impulsive shopping addiction, thinking of ordering something impulsively online when you’re just about to sleep. I can already sense some of you are in denial about how many items are there in your online shopping cart~

The next thing you’re in denial about is your knowledgeable, witty, and chatty side. This card actually made me feel sad because it seems that you were made to feel that you are too talkative, some of you might be bullied about being a know-it-all.

This pile was made to believe that knowing a lot doesn’t make a lot of friends. That people who know less than you have more friends, so if you really wanted to make more friends, you were told to “dumb down” to make you more “relatable”.

There’s nothing wrong with having multiple interests and wanting to talk about it. Knowing a little bit of everything makes for an amazing conversationalist. So please, don’t let yourself be pressured to be stupid just to make friends. If the people around you aren’t interested in your niche, there’s the rest of the world that would gladly hear you talk about your interests.

Finally, the last thing you’re in denial about is you don’t feel worthy of the success and victory you aspire to achieve. Pile 1, please I beg you don’t be too hard on yourself. You don’t have to suffer to deserve the abundance you’re working hard to achieve, okay?

You deserve to be celebrated. You deserve to have your hard work be recognized. You owning up to your achievements and success doesn’t make you an arrogant person. You simply know your worth, more like, you’ll soon know your worth. There’s nothing wrong with giving credit where it is due, okay?

(this concludes your reading, Pile 1. Thank you for reading the whole interpretation of your cards. I do hope you give yourself the time and space to accept yourself, your flaws, and flaunts)

Pile 2: Queen of Swords, Hermit, Ace of Cups

(TW: I might unintentionally call your pile out. I do this with love, but seems my words might be a bit too blunt. So... sorry in advance)

Hi Pile 2, from the first card, it seems that you are in denial about your capability to be independent. It seems that this pile might be my parentified, burnt-out eldest child, “I can’t rely on anyone but myself; yet into too tired, so I just decided to give up on trying in life” kind of group. Could also be my fellow millennial pile~ The whole, “I was robbed of my childhood” pile.

Pile 2, it seems that you’ve seen that being a reliable and mature child brought you more headaches and early signs of grey hair, due to overwhelming stress and dysregulated nervous system. You’re like, “Screw it, I’m done being reliable, so I’m gonna start not taking the lead and just hole up in my apartment and enjoy being a NEET.

Being overly independent made a lot of people unnecessarily dump you with everybody else’s problems, which made you the community’s unofficial unpaid therapist. Being such a people pleaser, tending to everyone else’s needs led you to disregard your own well-being and sanity, to the point when you’ve had enough.

So now, you could have probably stopped trying because overachievers are forced to be people-pleasing over-givers, and you have had enough of that collective abuse of your giving and understanding nature. So you just stopped trying altogether. This led you to your current situation. Either in a dead-end job, having multiple part-time jobs that barely pay the rent at the end of the month, or unemployed. I should include a trigger warning on this pile before posting.

So with the first card alone, you’ve become hopeless and resentful of the world outside your four walls. Because when you took the initiative and did your best, instead of appreciation, you were buried with responsibilities that were never yours from the very beginning. Pile 2, you were unappreciated, that’s why you’ve reached your limit and stopped trying. But because of this self-sabotaging approach in life, you suffer due to a lack of resources, which then would further aggravate your already pessimistic outlook in life.

But here’s the thing, Pile 2. You know what you need to do to get out of your situation. You have the ability to make your life better. One way to ensure that what happened to you before won’t happen again is by establishing healthy boundaries with people around you. Yes, my chronic people-pleasing pile, I’m gonna hold your hand (in spirit) and tell this rather hard pill-to-swallow suggestion, Learn to Say NO.

I know, it sucks because it might be something you were never taught that you are allowed to do when you grew up. Either you have Pisces, Cancer, or Libra in the 4th house or you have prominent Pisces, Cancer, or Libra personal placements.

I really hate to be a bringer of bad news but in establishing healthy boundaries, you will finally learn which people in your life benefitted from your lack of boundaries previously.

Clue: they get mad that you told them No and they said that you changed in a rather condescending manner. That’s just a little clue, my Pile 2.

So from giving up on life to starting over again and owning up to your ability to be independent, it’s not an overnight change, this is a continuous journey of turning your life around for the better. So my dear Pile 2, be kind, patient and compassionate towards yourself on your path to independency.

Your whole body was so used to be in survival mode, then it went to freeze mode, so you need to work hard to regulate your nervous system to learn to be okay to put yourself out into the world again. That it’s safe to try again. That it’s okay to live your life the way you know works best for you.

Just always remember, to establish strong and healthy boundaries first, and then learn to soften a bit with selective people, every now and then. Use your discernment who deserves to have access in your life and be firm with your boundaries whenever some unsavory character tries to ruin and poison your peace.

You know what you can do, and you know what you’re capable of achieving. Regardless on how old you are right now, as long as you live, you are allowed to start over again.

Another thing you are in denial about is your natural ability for self-reflection. Some people have to learn to be self-aware enough to reflect on their actions and their impact on others, but you Pile 2 are a natural at it.

You might have experienced some sort of ostracization from your peers because you didn’t let yourself immediately conform and fit in. But you knew that doing what everyone else is doing, isn’t something that’s aligned with you. It’s like every cell in your body rejects any peer pressure that doesn’t align with your goals and belief system.

This could also be interpreted as you are in denial about being comfortable with being socially withdrawn. Being in isolation for so long, you’ve learned to be okay by yourself. This leads back to the first card about your ability to be independent. Since you can do things on your own, you don’t really rely on others, which is a jab towards people who crave constant external validation.

Your ability to be good on your own is frowned upon by a society that heavily advertises a collective, community-centric system. This ruffles a lot of feathers of those who heavily depend on others to decide everything in their lives. Basically, people with a sheep mentality won’t like you.

Which, in all honesty, it’s a great thing that people who can’t think for themselves don’t like you. Take this as a compliment, not an insult. Why would you want to conform when you know you have the ability to curate your life by your design? Why do you have to conform to look like everyone else, when you can be you for free? Think about that~

Of course, you need to take time to get to know yourself first and the process to that has a series of ups and downs, so just ride the wave with a surfer’s mindset. You’ll learn that their projections of you were never your responsibilities to begin with. Those are mere insecurities they actively decided to inflict on others. It was never your cross to bear. So why be bound by others’ fears when you have your own life to live according to your will?

The last thing you’re in denial is having opportunities to start again. This one felt rather odd to interpret because it feels more like a mindset issue. Particularly, you’re held back by your scarcity mindset, thinking you don’t have any opportunities to be abundant, when in reality, you do, it’s just that, it’s in a way that you never thought was possible. Okay, I think I’m starting to make sense of how this card is being interpreted.

So, do you about how the law of assumption works? What do you assume becomes your reality? It’s kinda like that but, it’s more of your reality unfolding to what you believe in. So let me try to break it down further with an example.

So if you assume that you don’t have a lot of going for you, then your mind will naturally find reasons/proofs around you to back up that belief. Your mind would like to reason why you don’t have a lot. Does this explanation make more sense for you? Do let me know in the comment section.

With that, the reverse is the solution. If you want to find reasons why you are having a great life, phrase your affirmations into questions. So for example, instead of saying, “The universe loves to take care of me”, rephrase it as “How is the universe showing me that it loves to take care of me?”. So when your brain hears that, it will look for signs, proofs, or shreds of evidence around you that will answer that question.

Another affirmation that you can turn into an ASK-firmation is “My life is amazing” into “Why is my life so amazing?”. Just try turning your affirmations into questions, read it first thing before you go to your phone, like any typical affirmation practice. Let me know how it goes.

(So this concludes your reading, Pile 2. I just want you to know that no matter what your age, race, socio economic class is, you have every right and opportunity to try again.)

Pile 3: World, 7 of Wands, King of Wands

(TW: I did not expect how unhinged the call-out is in this pile. So… like always, I’m sorry in advance)

Hi Pile 3, based on the first card, it seems that you’re in denial of your desire for belongingness. It’s giving, “I don’t care what anyone else says because I got me; then I cry myself to sleep because fck, I’m so lonely and feels so unwanted.” Yup, this pile needs a trigger warning too.

It could be that picked on you because of your uniqueness or nonconforming personal values. Another potential interpretation is being of mixed race or being in an environment that’s predominantly occupied by a different socio-economic class. There’s this heavy Uranian, almost Aquarius dominant energy in this pile.

Now, you don’t need to have the placements I’ve stated in your chart, this is just the initial vibe of this pile, the socially awkward and outcast pile. Now, as human beings, we’re social creatures, though varies depending on a person’s preference to live more introvertedly or extrovertedly. Even introverts have friends.

So with this pile, you might have been used to this prevalent shadows of alienation and ostracization by your peers/community because of the aforementioned clues above. But just because you’re used to it, it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t hurt you or affect you in a negative way.

You know that it’s impossible to be liked by everyone, but it’d be nice to have a few like-minded individuals that you resonate with on a soul level. It’d be nice if you find your own supportive community too, which is absolutely normal. So please don’t shame yourself for wanting to belong. But you also need to remind yourself that if you have to change and dim your light to be accepted, you’re serenading the wrong crowd.

There’s this really niche suggestion because, in this economy, it’s not that easy to just pack up and leave into a different city/country that you feel called to, but if you have the means and you’ve thoroughly done your research, then by all means, pack up and go where you are appreciated.

Basically, the line goes, “Don’t dwell where you’re unappreciated.” But you still need funds, so if it helps you be motivated to get out and move away, try to do as much research on that city/country while working to save up for the necessary expenses you’d likely incur in your first 6 months in that new environment. If you need to learn the language, self-study in your spare time. Slowly find little ways to integrate the culture there into your daily life while preparing to leave.

But yes, pile 3, you’re not asking too much to wanna feel like you belong. There’s nothing wrong with you. So don’t apologize for wanting this, okay?

Another thing you might be in denial about is your overly defensive responses like easily triggered knee-jerk reactions brought about by denying the existence of your unhealed trauma from childhood. Damn, I really should put a trigger warning for this pile. Pile 3, you guys okay?? Still alive, barely breathing??

Seems to me that if you chose this pile, you got a whole lot to unfold. I can’t even make silly jokes to lighten the mood a bit. So the only thing I can do for you so that whatever time of your life you’re reading this, I hope you know, at least one person in the world wants to give you a Long Distance warm hug. I might not be there physically, but I am in spirit. But if you actually feel something holding you when you’re alone, then that’s a whole different spirit that you need to deal with personally.

So, I’m not saying that you shouldn’t stand up for yourself. What I’m saying is to be unaffected in public and execute your sassy vengeance in the shadows. LOL. But if you’re the type to be patient enough to let karma do its thing, then just wait and let the sht hit the fan when karma’s ready to come swinging.

Finally, the last thing you’re probably in denial of is your ability to take charge and lead. Pile 3, it seems that you’re the type that struggles to see yourself in a positive light. With how harsh and unemotionally draining your formative years may have been, you’ve been told too many times to suppress and conform that you ended up losing a little bit of yourself after every critique and degrading insult.

I’m here to tell you Pile 3, you have every right to feel what you feel. Don’t run away from it. Don’t deny it. Don’t shove it so far down your subconscious that it becomes a self-depreciating core belief that you’d struggle to heal in the future. Owning your power, accepting your light, harnessing your capability to lead and go forward. These things are way out of your comfort zone. Yet you know that these are things you are absolutely capable of. Let’s call it “Talents in statis”.

For you to awaken such latent abilities, you need to be gentle and compassionate with yourself in this journey. Self-development is a series and cycles of explore, experiment and re-strategize. So, if one approach didn’t sit well with you, there are other ways to improve that would best fit you. Curate your life as you see fit. Don’t just focus on working on the actually work need to be done. Work on improving and mastering your skills. The more you learn how to lead yourself, the more you’ll learn to feel more confident in leading others.

Don’t view mistakes as some irreparable stain in your soul. Mistakes are lessons guised as challenges for the purpose of character development. So, like a child that still learning to walk, feel free to do it messily and clumsily. It is in these attempts would you be able to harness and fully acknowledge your capability to influence and lead with conviction.

(This concludes the end of your reading, Pile 3. You know yourself best, both strengths and weaknesses. So you know what you need and have to do in order for you to learn to acknowledge the things you’ve been in denial about.

If you struggle to figure out how to start, do your research that you feel best addresses your current state of being. As always, take it slow, show compassion towards yourself, and always remember that “It’s only cringe until you make it.”)

Pile 4: 8 of Swords, Queen of Cups, Fool

(TW, yet again: This pile mentioned certain terms that might be triggering. So, if you intuitively feel that this is truly your pile, pause now and then. Let yourself just sit and breathe.)

Hi, Pile 4, the first thing you’re in denial about is that you are actually in pain. This pile feels like my self-sacrificing modern-day martyrs, particularly people who are or were in an abusive relationship. Another interpretation is being in denial of your codependency towards people who are doing wrong by you. Could also being in denial of being stuck in some mental cage of scarcity and limiting beliefs.

Damnnn, I need a trigger warning in front of this reading. This is giving “I can fix them” and “They’re not actually that bad until you get to know them”. Another vibe I can feel in this pile is accepting people for their potential. Also, this pile is giving “unappreciated hero martyred at the plaza pyre” vibes. The type that doesn’t realize just how much pain endured in hopes of acquiring the idea of someone. This is giving “limerence turned discarded puppet” vibes.

I’m sorry Pile 4 but the people who harmed you chose to stay for the benefit of their convenience, not out of love. They knew what they were doing to you was wrong. So please stop deluding yourself and remove those rose-colored glasses to see them for who they truly are, the master puppeteer of your demise.

Oh dear, pile 4 I really want to give you a hug! Please be brave and ask for help that you need. Report to the authorities and ask for their protection/assistance. Seek therapy. Talk to a friend. Do anything. Don’t leave yourself in a constant state of confusion because of their prolonged gaslighting had you questioning if you really being treated right or being suck dry of your energy and resources.

If you’re still confused if the amount of pain and trauma you’ve endured is normal, tell it to a trustworthy friend who can hold a safe space for you to speak your truth. Don’t leave out details. And listen to what they have to say after you’ve said your piece. You’ll know just how bad you’ve gone through with the help of their insight.

Another thing you’re in denial about pile 4 is your warm and loving nature. This could cause you to be shocked that this is something you’re in denial about because with everything you’ve gone through, you wonder, how can you still be warm and loving after all the pain you’ve gone through? But that’s the thing of pain, right? It highlights a clue as to what needs to be addressed.

When highlighting a certain issue that needs your attention, it’s expected that you subconsciously disregarded outer aspects of your life. Like, with how much pain you’ve endured, you’d question, how can someone with a broken spirit that lost hope, be considered as warm and loving.

Maybe, prior to the unfortunate series of your life, you were this warm, kind and nurturing person, that won’t hesitate to gave to someone else in need. Maybe the version of you before those pain is the version of you that’s warm and loving.

But I’m telling you right now, Pile 4, if you truly aren’t as warm and loving as you claim to be, then why didn’t inflict the pain you’ve sustain to other people? Why didn’t you pass your pain to someone else? Why do you still wish for a better and happier life? Why do you still have hope? I’ll leave this for you to answer whenever you feel like it.

Bad people wouldn’t feel bad nor wouldn’t contemplate if what they did or said could unintentionally hurt someone else. See? You’re not as bad and hopeless as you perceive yourself as. So, please pile 4, and never forget that once you get yourself out of that unfortunate situation, it’s safe for you to exist. It is safe for you to put yourself first. It is safe for you to try again.

Finally, you are in denial about your sense of wonder and innocence. It might have been because you had experienced quite a bit of betrayal from people who mistook your kindness for weakness in the past. Because of how you were played the Fool for seeing the potential in people, these manipulators used your sympathetic heart against you, making you guarded and distrustful.

You might have hated how you wanted to share your kind and giving heart when you were surrounded by a crowd of traitors. This made you resentful and closed off from the world to the point that you don’t see any reason to want to try socializing again Pile 4.

You are not at any fault for wanting to see life in a better and more positive light, Pile 4. We are living in a time where gaslighting and manipulation are the unfortunate societal norm. So being your authentic wonderful self takes courage and strength in this confusing period in time. As hard as it is to do, please don’t like the toxicity of the world corrupt your heart.

There’s nothing wrong with who you are and who you want to become. Embrace this innocence with open arms as this is actually one of your superpowers.

(This concludes the end of your reading, pile 4. Admitting to yourself that you’ve gone through pain doesn’t make you weak. Believing in the goodness of others doesn’t make you stupid. Treating people with love, compassion and respect is an unfortunate rarity in our modern world.

So let yourself feel what you’ve denied acknowledgment before. Be the safe space you want to exist in. Do take care and don’t feel bad for standing up for yourself.)

Always remember, this is for entertainment purposes only. If you are going through stuff, seek professional help.

#divination #tarot #pac tarot #pac reading #pick a pile #pick a picture #pick a photo #general reading

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socialistexan · 1 year

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I think people need to stop asking trans people "what gender feels like," because that framing was devised by cisgender psychiatrists and doctors who to try to explain (and maybe even pathologize, invalidate, or trivialize) being transgender. It's not our phrasing.

Because I never "felt" like any specific gender. For me, there is not feeling that is "woman." Or "man" or none of the above either. We have our internal sense of self, but you can't boil it down to a general "woman" feeling.

I have a better way:

Imagine you are one day transported into a someone you don't know's body. They don't even have to be a different gender than you, just anyone you don't know.

Imagine how it feels to open your mouth and someone else's voice comes out. Imagine how it feels to look in the mirror and see a stranger staring back at you. Imagine feeling like the body you're in doesn't match how you know internally it should be, and I don't just mean sexual anatomy. I mean height and limb proportions among other things, too. Imagine feeling like the very blood in your veins feels wrong. Would you want to find a way to correct this mistake in any way you could? What if you were stuck and the only options given to you are expensive medicine and surgery and require years of psychiatric care just to be able to start to access it?

Now, imagine being told you're wrong or crazy for trying to tell the world what's going on with you. Imagine being pathologized and given therapy to convince you that you aren't actually you but this stranger. Imagine that state governments across the country and globe are specifically legislating your rights away because your existence disgusts them. Imagine living in fear of even walking down the street, even in your own neighborhood, because people have been trained to want to hurt you for living as you know you are. Imagine entire social movements and Internet shows dedicated to mocking and harassing you and people like you.

Now, think about how you would feel. Would you feel good? Would you be brave enough to face the world every day while doing this? I doubt it.

But, y'know, that's just my experience. The beauty of being trans, and human experience in general, is that it's all different. That's why I scoff at the term "trans ideology" because none of us can even agree on what being trans is! Ask ten trans people on what being trans is like and you'll get 10 different answers. You think we're that cohesive and organized? A bit of "tell me you've never met a trans person without telling me you've never met a trans person," y'know? What binds us, really, is the people that hate us more than anything else.

Anyway, I think it's time trans people reclaim our own narrative. It's way past time.

#trans #transgender #nonbinary #lgbtq #lgbt

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wanderlust-in-my-soul · 5 months

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Devotion.

I just want, or rather need, to write about this scene, because it stuck in my head for the last seven days. And because of the wonderful @lurkingshan I decided to post it...

This scene is the culmination, the end of the years that Qian has forbidden himself to feel joy or love. Romantic love that doesn't demand, that doesn't require him to be in control, to take care, to be the big brother. So far he has not allowed the depth of his feelings for Yuan to surface. He has kept them locked away, kept control of them. He knows they were there, but couldn’t or didn’t dare to face them, to name them. And he would have continued to do so if Yuan hadn't finally told him what he actually wants from him. It wasn't enough for him to tell Qian that he loves him, that it was his own problem, not Qian's, that he was content if the person he loved was happy. The talk with San Pang and the staircase talk were the first steps, Qian is finally able and willing to face those emotions, but couldn’t make up his mind. Still couldn't name those feelings.

Everything is too much for him. He is overwhelmed by the decision he has to make and the possible outcome of that. He could lose Yuan, if they don't work out in the end. If those boundaries are finally crossed, there is no going back to where they were. So Qian needed to hear that Yuan doesn't want him as a brother. Every time Yuan told Qian he can take care of him, he is there for him and holds up the world together with him, it was as a brother. In Qian’s mind, he said that as a brother. All Qian brought Yuan was suffering and sadness and abandonment, because he fell in love with him.

In his mind, Yuan shouldn’t love him as something else than a brother, because that would harm both of them. Because loving Qian isn’t a good thing to do. Qian knows that Yuan loves him but hasn't understood, or rather wanted to understand, the extent of his feelings. Yuan wants to be his partner. He wants him to be able to rely on him, to be Qian's rock, no matter what life brings, he wants to be there for him. And not just for the moment, but for the rest of his life. And not just as a brother Qian has to take care of, but as a lover, the one person who puts Qian first.

He wants to be Qian's partner, he wants to protect him and take the burden off his shoulders. He wants Qian not to have to deal with everything on his own, but to open up to him, to share his worries and hardships with him. And Qian finally understands what it means when Yuan tells him that he can summarize his life in two words: Wei Qian. Yuan puts Qian above himself, he would run to the end of the world for him if he had to, he would fight against the rest of the world if he had to, he will protect him, he will take care of him and love him no matter what the world holds. And finally Qian understands that it's good, that Yuan won't just leave him once he opens up, because he loves everything about him, his dark sides and his light ones. Yuan can take care of him to the end, can love him to the end. And Qian surrenders. He's always in fucking control, no matter what, he has to control everything, even his heart. But at some point, all resistance breaks. He just had to understand.

And when they get into the bedroom, Qian is beaming. The lightning focusses on his face, this delighted face. He is like pudding under Yuan’s kisses, touches, breathes. In that moment he exists only out of his emotions. There is nothing more and nothing more is needed in this situation. He has never looked so weightless before and has certainly never felt like this.

We know what Yuan imagines at night, or at least we have a pretty good idea. We have witnessed countless moments when his love and affection for Qian literally leaked out of his face, while Qian tried to suppress his feelings with a petrified expression. But finally, he can feel them. He allows himself to give in. He allows Yuan to take care of his world, to let him feel how much he loves and desires him. The power of emotions and sensations are depicted on Qian’s face. He has his eyes closed, tasting every single moment, savouring every single touch. Blissfully.

Yuan's presence is Qian's entire focus. Just as Qian is Yuan's entire focus. And he makes sure that Qian feels good, that he forgets everything, all problems and responsibilities, illnesses and losses, for the moment. He takes care of his world. This one thing he wanted to do for so long, he is finally able to do.

(Well, there is an edited version out now with this whole scene as one without the flashbacks, but I saw the other one first and I loved it, so I stick to it.) The whole scene is repeatedly interrupted by scenes from the past and it is always Yuan. I was also a bit irritated by the time jumps at first, I get why people are annoyed by this, but it makes sense. We know that Qian is Yuan's whole world, the centre around which he has revolved for years and for which he would do anything. We see scenes that led to where they are now. Their shared history. Their shared memories. The sequences speed up and at some point it's just Yuan’s face at its core. Yuan. Yuan. Yuan.

And you can understand, without needing to be told, that Yuan is also Qian's whole world. He is the centre, the heart that gives his own life warmth, with whom he can let himself fall, who knows him better than anyone else, who was always there, even when he physically wasn't, the only one who could tell him to do things he didn’t want to do, the one he can’t fucking live without. And Qian surrenders. The feelings he couldn't allow for so long are now boiling out and we have these close-ups of his face and see how he's longed for it. How touch starved this boy was.

I don't need a close-up of Yuan to know that he's enjoying every single second. Would it have been nice? Sure, but I think narratively, that's the way they wanted and needed to go. And I love this whole scene. It's aesthetic, it advances the story, it's intimate and it's fitting for the show. Because Qian always was Yuan’s world and Yuan is Qian’s whole world.

I just wanted or needed to say I love this scene, its buildup, its pace, its hecticness and this disconnected feeling. It's Qian's scene. It's what we've all been dying for, for Qian to finally give in. And when the emotions overwhelm you, then it becomes hectic, then nothing hangs together and thoughts can't be grasped, can't be put in order. You jump from moment to moment, starting at one point and ending at a completely different one. It's Qian's scene. It's not Yuan's. We've had enough scenes to see Yuan's love and devotion, now it's time for Qian. We are, like Yuan, experiencing Qian in his first moment of absolute devotion. Without time, without place, without anger or fear. He doesn't think about the past or worry about the future, because for the first time he lives in the present. Yuan gives him this security that he can let his guard down, give up the control. I don't think Qian has ever felt as safe, secure, and loved as he does in this moment. And I love it so fucking much! Perhaps I just ignore my little dissappointement in them rushing this whole thing, because I watch those scenes with a narrator in my mind and he is giving me so much more in those scenes than the actual scene shows. But I understand everyone who is dissapointed with this scene and editing.

#unknown #unknown the series #unknown ep 11 #qianyuan #chris chiu #kurt huang #qian x yuan #bl drama #bl series #asianlgbtqdrama #taiwanese bl #taiwanese drama #taiwanese series #queer drama #lgbtq+#just my thoughts #josi watching bl #unknown meta #long post

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tyquu · 3 months

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Absolutely love your prosthetic Ezra AU. Arts so wonderful and stunning (Sorry if I spell it wrong, English is not my first language)

If you don't watch Asoka show you can ignore my question, because of spoilers)))

I have a bunch of little questions. Ezra spent almost ten years in other galaxy. What is the quality of his prosthesis when he returned home? How did he deal with breakdowns without the right tools and parts?

Anyway, love your AUs and amazing art style!

Wahhh thank you so much! Glad to hear you like the AU!

So I haven’t actually finished Ahsoka (I know, im sorry 😭) but at this point I feel like I know roughly enough to take a crack at this! So here’s what I came up with;

So, Ezra’s cybernetic, as discussed in the post where I went into detail on it, requires pretty regular maintenance in order to function. Stranded on Peridea and without access to any med care/tech from the chimera, Ezra’s cybernetic would begin to go faulty within months.

At most he’d probably be able to make things just about work for three months post crash before it would have to come off. Grabbing a stick to use as a cane, there would be a few months where he has to really go back to basics, and it is not ideal.

However, Ezra would get crafty! Either with supplies he’d have stolen from the chimera or gathered on his own, and he’d end up with various self made peg legs! They aren’t perfect but with every iteration tend to get a bit better.

After staying with the Noti for a while, he’d finally have access to better materials and craftsmanship, and make a final design for his post crash prosthetic. It includes an adjustable buckle, prosthetic knee mechanism, and polished wood transtibial prostheses below the knee.

Obviously it would still need the occasional part replacement due to wear and tear as time goes on, but I don’t think it would change drastically from this point onwards, not until he gets back to lesser space of course, where I’m sure he’d go get checked out by a whole med team and possibly get his cybernetic replaced

But yeah!! That’s all I’ve got. I’m not a massive Ahsoka believer tbh, and I kinda split off in the middle to dabble a little bit on what an “Ezra and Thrawn in wild space adventures” prosthetic situation would end up being like. Especially with the possibility of introducing the ascendancy. But I decided to halt that train of thought for now so I could address the Ahsoka show specifically 🫡

Thanks again for the ask! Hope this sort of makes sense (and please do let me know if it doesn’t!) :D)

#star wars #star wars rebels #ezra bridger #amputee ezra bridger #star wars fanart #ty tidibit #asks #ahsoka #ahsoka series

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lu-is-not-ok · 4 months

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*rises from the grave*

*trips and falls flat on my face*

Heyyyy, it's ya boy, your favorite chronically exhausted Hong Lu identity that forgor about posting to Tumblr. Hi. Hello.

So. Timekilling Time, huh? Very fun, very exciting, we love focusing on Sinners that are misunderstood both in and out of character. We love Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu focus. We love Ryoshu's butch mustache swag.

Anyway, allow me yap about it a bit, because I took frame by frame screenshots of the teaser and I haven't yapped on Tumblr in a while. I'll also give a general update on how I've been doing at the end of the post for those who are interested.

The first thing I've noticed in the teaser is Dante actually lays out the exact traits that their choice of Sinners would need. These being (exact wording):

Someone who can support Dante

Someone who can remain laser-focused on the case

Someone who can be free from biased judgement while making rational, quick spur-of-the-moment decisions

In other words, we need Sinners who will help Dante out, are able to stay focused, and who can think on their feet without relying on their own internal biases.

I think it's important to lay those out as clearly as possible, because it makes the selections made by Dante and Verg very interesting, and also kind of funny.

Let's look at Dante's picks - Yi Sang, Meursault, and Faust. These are all, at a surface level, decent general picks, as all three of them are seen as smart and rational. However, if we look at them while keeping the previously mentioned traits in mind, it turns out these three might just be some of the worst picks Dante could ever fucking make.

The biggest issue - none of these bitches can think quickly. Faust is especially notorious for this, as it's consistently pointed out how she always needs a long time to come to a conclusion or otherwise has to pause to come up with answers. We also know Yi Sang is the type of person to get lost in his thoughts and just meander instead of getting to the point. Meursault is a bit of an outlier in that we see that he can think quickly, but if he's not given any orders he's never gonna act on those thoughts. Admittedly, he has been getting better at speaking up over time, but he's still mostly in this "only does what he's told to do" mode of operations.

This is where their issues split up a little bit.

Yi Sang is probably the most likely to be supportive of Dante out of the three - we see that he cares about others and has learned to interfere and give advice when he feels it's necessary (though who knows if he's doing well enough to keep that up after Canto 6, oof). No, rather his other issue lies in the focus department. This is the guy who, as I previously mentioned, meanders all over before getting to the point. Again, like Meursault, he has been getting better at not doing that, but he's still got ways to go.

Faust and Meursault on the other hand have the opposite issue. While they're fairly goot at staying focused on what they have to do, the issue is that they never fucking speak up. They're probbably the furthest from being supportive of Dante. They're most likely to learn info and just keep it to themselves until everyone has wasted way too much fucking time. Hell, Meursault would probably make a decently good detective if allowed to do the case all on his own, but since he's meant to be a part of a group, he's unlikely to help out that much without Dante directly ordering him around.

Now, onto Verg's picks - Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu. This is where things get really, really interesting. Because we have the reverse situation to Dante's picks - on the surface the choices seem random and counter-intuitive, but if we look deeper, it turns out they all fulfill the requirements surprisingly well.

I'm about to go on a tangent here, but I find it extremely important that we're focusing on this group of Sinners in the first Intervallo between what I consider to be the most thematically different arcs within Limbus. The first half of Inferno has been pretty squarely about confronting one's past, whether learning to face it properly after running away from it (Gregor, Rodya, Sinclair), or learning to move past it after refusing to let go of it (Yi Sang, Ishmael, Heathcliff).

However, looking at the Sinners we have left, it feels like the second half of Inferno might be focused less on the past specifically, but more about the Sinners' general reality. Especially the next upcoming trio of Cantos - Don Quixote, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu - have some heavy thematic focus on the idea of one's perception of reality, especially fitting for the three Sinners with weird eye shit going on.

With Timekilling Time focusing on the Sinners most misinterpreted by others in-character (and out of character), it feels like the perfect intro to this switch in thematic focus - exploring the actual realities of people who are otherwise hard to understand.

Anyway, back to discussing how Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu fit Dante's requirements.

Supportive of Dante - this is the requirement all three fulfill pretty well. Let me explain.

Rodya is probably the most obvious - she's a hypegirl through and through, and happy to take the reigns in some way or another if nobody else is able to, as we see in Canto 2. She's often one of the first people to point out when someone is not doing well, and shares a lot of her insight if in the mood, but she also knows when discretion is necessary.

Hong Lu is a fun one here - he's extremely perceptive and insightful, often sharing his thoughts with very little prompting. His only issue is that he tends to backpedal when he feels like he said something wrong, or generally just words shit in weird slightly offensive ways. He's supportive, he just doesn't always talk like he is.

Ryoshu is one I find most interesting here, as a lot of people seem to miss this about her character - despite her short temper and peculiar manner of carrying herself, she's actually pretty understanding and helpful towards people she's on amicable terms with. She always explains her acronyms if asked (and when she doesn't it's usually because people stop asking or Sinclair translates instead), she listens when told to stand down or otherwise do something when asked of by Dante or Sinclair, and the reason she tends to stay quiet is because she only speaks when she feels what she has to say is important.

Staying focused - this one is a bit harder to judge, but I'd say the only one who might not fulfill this one is Hong Lu, but only by a margin. Ryoshu is shown to get so focused she gets impatient when she can't get to the point, and Rodya always has her goal in mind even when she might act like she doesn't. Hong Lu is a bit harder to judge, as he seems to be the type to prioritze gathering information and satiating his curiostiy over the main goal, but in a case like this that might just be a massive plus.

Unbiased quick thinking - again, all three fulfill the quick thinking part very well. Rodya shows it constantly throughout Canto 2, Hong Lu shows it best in social interactions, and Ryoshu just doesn't want to waste time and so she naturally thinks quickly as well. It's when we come to the unbiased part that things get extremely interesting.

As individuals, Rodya, Hong Lu, and Ryoshu are all very biased people. Rodya sees the world from the perspective of someone who suffered in the poor Backstreets. Hong Lu sees the world from the perspective of a rich Nest dweller coming from a family of dubious morality. Ryoshu sees the world from the perspective of (probably) an ex-Ring member obsessed with the art that is reality. Their backgrounds color the information they take in a lot.

However... this means that as a group, all three balance each other's biases out. Rodya's cynicism gets balanced out by Hong Lu's idealism, which is balanced by Ryoshu's realism. Their backgrounds couldn't be more different, and thus give the widest possible perspective when put together.

I think this is the point Verg is making with this selection. Dante's selection is the easy way out. It's people that Dante already knows how to deal with, and would rather pick even if their skillsets don't fit the situation. Verg is making Dante learn how to work with Sinners who might be harder to deal with, but have skillsets more fitting for the situation at hand.

Dante can't keep half-assing everything by always turning to the same few people. Every Sinner in the group has their use and are smart in their own unique ways. They have to figure what every Sinner's strong point is, otherwise they'll end up putting everyone in danger by relying on people who are simply not good in a situation while ignoring those who could help.

So... that's what I think.

Anyway, personal general update - I'm still alive! And also very swamped with college and constant exhaustion. So, things will have to change a bit moving forward.

Number one - I will not be returning to old analysis requests. There's too many at this point, and I just don't have the time to sit down and write longass posts whenever I want anymore. However, that isn't to say E.G.O and Sin analyses will never return! I have plaaans for what I want to do with those moving forward, it just may take some time to materialize.

Number two - I'm generally just more active on Discord than on Tumblr. Yapping on Discord feels more natural for me, as it's just... less formal than making a full post I guess. So, if you want to discuss things with me, or if you're on a server that you think would do well with having me yapping in there, feel free to shoot me an invite link in replies (or in DMs if you don't want it to be public)!

Number three - Go check out the Absolute Pride Resonance event on Youtube! I'm not a part of it maybe next time wink wink nudge nudge, but you should still check it out cause it's a bunch of cool people doing very scuffed streams, as is fitting for the scuff Project Moon is known for.

Alright, that's it. I still don't know how to end Tumblr Posts. Bye.

#lu speaketh #limbus company #lcb spoilers #intervallo 6.5a #timekilling time intervallo #we're back baby #rodion lcb #hong lu lcb #ryoshu lcb #fun fact i'm up to 1.1k hours on limbus #god help me

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queer-n-here · 6 months

Note

UHM-UHM-

Yeah I have no shame to just not ask anonymously- anyways!

May I please request a 6'1 reader who is stoic, bold, also handsome as Dazai but ain't a womaniser, and is VERY quiet. With Dazai. He works at the ADA with him. He follows Dazai around like literally, he acts and opens up more to Dazai than he does with others, he literally doesn't care if Dazai was In the pm (they met at 14) or abt his crimes, he can read Dazai's emotions And can see through him, they R lovers, he is loyal asf to Dazai. He Also is rich asf and has better fashion tastes! Pls make both a oneshot or hc or ANYTHING ABT THEMMMMM

(I'm very desperate BC of a certain fantasy of mine)

Ah, I gotchu you bruv.

[ Also, let's do a little quiz. What country do y'all think I originate from? Like, based on my language and writing and just... Yeah.]

And yep, I'm double posting today!

Canonically, there are no mentions of Dazai's past before the Port Mafia, so I made stuff up. Hope you like it!

Contents: Uhh...a lot. I got... *winces* I got carried away.

Warnings: Angst, hurt/comfort, mentions of death, suicide and violence, Dazai's life is sad and so are these hcs.

You and Dazai met when you two were 14 each. It was a chance encounter, really. Both of you were orphans, and both of you were ability users, even though Dazai knew more about his ability than you did yours.

Both of you currently had no one in the world. That was the key factor that brought you two together. Struggling to get by and find a place of your own in the world, you met.

Neither of you opened up at first, cautious and calloused as you both were. It just happened; it didn't happen one particular day, and before you two had realized, you'd become each other's sole support.

You turned fifteen, and three months later Dazai met Mori.

He told you about it later, describing in the sort of detail no one else would get to hear how he'd rescued the Port Mafia leader from an enemy gang, unintentionally impressing him and securing Dazai a place in the Mafia.

You didn't like it. The job was dangerous, and you didn't want Dazai's hands to get stained with blood. When you told him this, he laughed it off, and said that he could handle it. You dropped the matter.

He was wrong.

You watched as Dazai changed, despite his promises and assurances. He grew ruthless, cruel in a way that made you ache as you watched him, silent. He started hating everything, even himself, and sometimes you thought he hated you, too.

He had a beautiful heart, you knew. But Mori was destroying it.

You talked to Mori about it, too. You might not have anything on him, yes, he was richer and way more powerful, but you had your ability, and you were ready to fight to death. Before you could, however, Dazai intervened.

That was the first time you two fought. After that, you went to him and told him you wouldn't care if he didn't want you to. If he wanted to keep going down the path that he'd chosen, you wouldn't stop him.

Sometimes, you look back and wonder if there was something you could have done for him other than what you did. You still can't think of anything.

You opened up a small business after that, and it slowly grew to a scale larger than you had expected.

Then you two turned eighteen. Finally, you were able to register your enterprises under your own name, being a legal adult. You and Dazai got wasted that night, and you watched fondly as he tried and failed to put his coat on so you two could go and meet Ango and Odasaku.

They had probably begun then, your feelings for Dazai. You were only comfortable enough with him to actually talk, and not just say what was absolutely required and then shut up.

He knew you in a way no else did. No one else knew what it looked like when you smiled, or threw your head back and laughed freely. No one else knew what it was like when you cared, when you brought over Dazai's favorite refreshing drink every time you visited him in summer. Or when you helped him change his bandages, touch gentle and careful against his soft skin.

And you knew him the way no else did. No one else knew what it was like when he was genuine, when he'd look up at you with earnest eyes. No one else knew what it was like when he flushed slightly, the red of his skin always starting from the tips of his ears and descending to his cheeks. No one else knew what it was like when Dazai protected, when he offered to use his contacts in the Mafia to get rid of your competitors, even though you declined every time. He had enough blood on his hands without you pitching in.

Eight months after that, he left the Port Mafia. He came to your apartment crying that day. His face was ashen, his shirt was covered in blood and his lips were trembling. The tears that had been collecting in his eyes for who knows how long finally spilled when he saw you, and the only thing you could do for him in that situation was open your arms and let him cling onto you. He kept saying 'Oda's dead... He's dead...'

That night, Dazai changed. Thankfully for the better. That flame in his eyes was gone now, the one that made you worry if he would burn himself and the world.

Dazai slowly stopped hating after that. You and Ango were the only two he trusted, the only two he would be genuine with. He didn't close up in a way that hid his smile, or in a way that made him withdraw from people. Quiet the opposite. He pushed himself outward, adopting a cheery persona that joked around and bewitched everyone.

The only smiles that weren't created but slid across his face on their own were ones that he smiled with you, and Ango.

You couldn't help but feel slightly bittersweet. Dazai was out of that hellhole, that cursed gang that was making his heart black. But Odasaku was dead.

After that, as your twenties arrived, Dazai joined the Armed Detective Agency. You were happy, then.

You two celebrated at a lavish restaurant. Your business had grown to be Japan's No. 1, and the money that spilled in with it was something neither Dazai nor you had expected.

But your hopes for the ADA were too high. Sometimes, Dazai still wanted to leave. He said he wanted to kill himself, and even though he would always laugh it off, you couldn't help but notice that his eyes would always grow hollow when he spoke of it.

And so the only thing you could do was love him. You loved him and tried your best to let him know, buying him unnecessary gifts and putting him on top of your mental priority list. Even your staff knew you loved him; it was apparent and obvious.

Dazai was probably the only one that didn't notice it, that genius dumbass.

And so you tried harder. You had never been good with words, but you tried to be vocal about your feelings, telling him he was cute when you thought so, and saying that he looked good when he did.

Dazai still didn't notice. The day he found out was when you got drunk and blurted it out.

You still don't have a lot of memories from that night, and Dazai says that you passed out soon after confessing. He finds it funny now, even though he didn't back then.

Your confession made Dazai pull up a wall against you. This surprised you, hurt you, and you tried apologizing, tried to get him to just talk to you. You told him that it didn't matter if he didn't return your feelings.

Something was hurting Dazai, you could tell. But he just wouldn't talk to you, going so far as to changing his phone number without telling you.

So you showed up at his workplace. Kunukida knew you by sight; you often came to pick Dazai up from work. You two had a big fight, shouting in one hallway of the agency building, making such a ruckus that Ranpo and the others came over to watch.

It ended with Dazai turning around to leave, and you were planning to let him go. But then you saw a tear glisten at his cheek last moment, and hence gave chase.

You chased him down all the way from Yokohoma to Kawasaki, only stopping when Dazai collapsed in the middle of a street, his frame shaking with sobs as he started hyperventilating. You crouched down beside him and pulled him to your chest, rubbing his back and conducting his breathing, your voice soft as it told him to inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale....

He fell asleep on your shoulder, in the middle of nowhere. You carried him back to your house, and tucked him into a warm bed. The next morning, he wouldn't meet your eye.

Usually, you would have let him; there was hardly anything that Dazai would do that you would disapprove of. But lately, you had been going against his wishes a lot, so you decided to do that one more time.

When he tried to leave, you pinned him to a wall and forced him to look at you. It wasn't difficult, Dazai had never really worked out, even as a part of the Port Mafia. His fighting style was more quick and clean moves than brute strength.

It worked well in your advantage as he tried to struggle against your hold and failed miserably, tears collecting in his eyes and threatening to fall.

"Dazai," You said. "If you want me to disappear from your life, I can do that." He looked up at you, eyes wide and blurred. "But there's one catch. You have to say it. Say it to my face, tell me to leave, and I swear on my own life, I'll vanish. You won't ever see me again." And then the tear that had been collecting in his eye all this time fell, sliding down his cheek and onto the collar of his shirt. His arms went limp in your hold, and he wobbled forwards. You caught him as he fell, and he sobbed into your shoulder again. His hands were clutching at your shirt as if for dear life, and even as you rubbed his back, more tears fell from his eyes. You held Dazai through his breakdown. The next time he spoke to you, he said the words, "I like you too much." It was a silent confession, almost muffled into your shoulder as the post-crying exhaustion overtook. You pulled him closer and pressed a kiss into his temple.

It was alright after that. You asked Dazai why he tried to run away, and the only thing he said was that he got scared. He chose not to explain, and you chose not to push him.

Now, everything is good. Dazai's job at the ADA does worry you sometimes, even if it's for the good, it's dangerous, but you know he loves his job, no matter how many jokes he makes about Fukuzawa's violation of the Labor Laws. And he loves you, that's all you've ever needed.

Being in a relationship with him is not always easy. He still speaks of dying, and the thought of him leaving you makes you panic. Sometimes, you still don't know what to do to make him feel better. But you manage to work through it.

You love Dazai, after all. You have ever since you two were kids.

#dom male reader #top male reader #dom reader #bungou stray dogs #sub bsd x you #sub bsd #bsd x you #sub bungou stray dog x you #sub bungou stray dogs #sub character #sub character x you #sub dazai #sub dazai x you #sub osamu dazai x you #sub osamu dazai

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cleoluvrr · 11 months

Text

high school sweethearts (rafe cameron x reader) III

these are the requirements, if you think you can be my one true love

WARNINGS: mature content; dark!rafe, dub!con, corporal punishment, domestic violence, substance abuse & addiction, controlling behavior, coercion, manipulative behavior, stalking, toxic relationship, attempted suicide, kook!reader

masterlist

series masterlist

in spite of your refusal, rafe decided that the two of you were going shopping. it was the last thing you wanted to do, but rafe had an obsession with showing you off to everyone who had working eyes.

ironically, he didn’t hate when men looked at you–at least not while he was around. he loved it. he got a rush from watching other guys ogle you and know they could never have you. you hated public affection, but he loved to kiss you or walk around with his hand dangerously low on your back wherever you went just for wandering eyes.

fancy dinners, midsummers, the country club, charity events; anything that he got parade you around like a prized showhorse. you were sure rafe only took you to those things just to rub it in his father’s face. the child with a reputation of being a drug dealing deadbeat had a smart, well-mannered, soft-spoken girl hanging off his arm everywhere he went. one with reputable parents and was pursuing a college education. it made ward red in the face to know that someone like you was committed to his son, and it made your boyfriend feel overjoyed.

today was no different–not at first.

the last place you wanted to be was in a shopping center filled with rich kids and tourons, but rafe insisted that he wanted to buy you new clothes for the rapidly cooling weather. fall was in full swing and he refused to have his girlfriend walking around town in out-of-season fashion. it made no sense to you; rafe never cared about fashion being in or out of season, but you didn’t feel like putting up a fight.

the exhaustion of pulling your clothes on and off repeatedly was starting to overcome you. your skin was sticky and itchy from the hot fitting rooms, your feet were aching from the mary janes squeezing against your toes, and all the noise was overstimulating you.

usually, you wouldn’t complain. you would just suck it up until rafe decided to take pity on you and bring you home with pounds worth of shopping bags that you didn’t even want in the first place. it was just something you had to do and there was no use in fighting him on it.

this time, however, you weren’t in any mood to be pulled around by rafe beneath the fluorescent, sterile lights of a crowded mall.

after the second hour you began huffing and dragging your feet. you were sure rafe noticed, but he said nothing; you were still going along with it enough for him to leave it alone. it was hour three that you actually began to put up noticeable resistance. still he said nothing.

you hoped that your incessant whining would annoy him enough to take you home, but it was of no assistance.

your shoes clicked against the linoleum floor loudly as you stomped behind your boyfriend, jaw clenched and lips jutted out in a glossy pout. rafe’s fingers laced through yours as he led you around, paying no mind to your silent tantrum. you exhaled again, feet planting firmly into the ground as you tugged your hand away from him.

that was what made the blonde finally turn back to face you.

“i wanna go home, rafe.” you folded your arms across your chest as you said it, eyes wide and glaring up at your boyfriend just a few steps away.

he rolled his eyes in response, tongue in cheek. he was clearly annoyed, but you continued pushing anyway.

“we can leave soon, baby.” he reaches for your hand again but you step back to avoid his grasp. a pair of blue eyes squint at you in reaction to your act of defiance.

“don’t ‘baby’ me.” you snipped at him. “i wanna leave now, rafe. i’m tired–i didn’t even want to come here in the first place.”

he reaches for you again silently, his silent response only managing to irritate you further. you smacked his hand away before it landed on your waist.

“don’t fucking touch me!” a few people nearby turned their heads in your direction, your raised volume capturing the attention of passerbyers. “you’re not even listening! i just said i wanna go home now, we’ve been here long enough and i’m fucking irritated.”

rafe hardly seemed moved by your outburst, but his calmness was deceiving to the average onlooker. looking down at the hand you smacked away, his head slowly raised to meet your eyes with a look that had you struggling to collect saliva to wet your dry mouth.

the two of you held the tense contact for what felt like an eternity but couldn’t have lasted more than a few seconds. nodding at you, he moved to walk in the opposite direction towards the mall’s entrance. his strong hand snatched you into his hold as he passed by you, long legs leaving you stumbling behind him as he stalked through the center.

rafe’s anger was radiating off of him in waves, so strong that anyone passing by could feel the heat filling the air. he never looked back at you once, but you felt as if he had a second pair of eyes in the back of his head that left your skin boiling.

though his demeanor was calm, the bone-crushing grip he held on your hand as he dragged you through the mall was enough to know you were in for it.

you, on the other hand, couldn’t help the chill that ran through every layer of your being. it was hard to tell if your heart had stopped beating completely, or if it was beating so fast that you couldn’t differentiate each thump of it against your chest. your mouth had gone completely dry and the irritation that once filled you was now replaced with a heavy cloak of dread.

reaching his dark colored truck, rafe opened the back door to place the shopping back in the back seat before slamming it shut. the harsh sound made you flinch but rafe paid it no mind as he dragged you to the passenger’s side. your lips were tucked into your mouth tightly as you eyed him warily, the blond man tugging at the handle to reveal your seat in the car.

the drive to his house was as uncomfortable as you thought it would be. he didn’t turn the radio on like usual, forcing you to sit in silence as you traveled to your destination. it was five minutes in that you realized you weren’t going to your own house like you requested. the realization made your stomach drop. you knew that it meant nothing good was going to happen once you stepped out of the car.

the driveway was empty when the two of you arrived at tannyhill, neither rose or ward anywhere in sight as you approached the large estate.

your footsteps were light and hesitant as you trailed behind your boyfriend, shoes barely making a sound as they landed against the old floors of his family’s house. the feeling of dread intensified the closer you got to rafe’s bedroom. you weren't sure what would happen and the feeling of unknowing unsettled your stomach.

“y’know…” rafe finally broke the silence between you two as his bedroom door clicked shut. “i do so much for you.”

sitting the shopping bags down in the corner, rafe takes slow steps towards your frozen figure. you sniffed nervously and cleared your throat in response. he places a warm hand on your face when he reaches you, the soft gesture not matching the fire in his eyes.

“i do so much for you. all i ask you to do for me…is show some respect.” his pink tongue pokes out the side of his mouth to wet his lips before retreating. “isn’t that right?”

“yeah…” the single word came out just as wobbly as you felt. he nodded at you, eyes flickering down to your bobbing throat as you swallowed dryly.

“‘yeah…’” he mocked your unstable voice. “so–tell me why you think it's okay to talk to me like that? is it ‘cause you don’t respect me?”

you shook your head against the palm he held against your warm cheeks. his gaze was unrelenting and you felt like you were gonna be sick.

rafe already had you on thin ice from going to the cut last week. he was still mad about you blatantly ignoring his request, and this was only another stroke of a hammer to a frozen lake. he hated feeling like you were questioning his authority, but it felt ridiculous to you that your boyfriend thought he had any authority over you as a grown woman. that never mattered to him though; what he says is law in his eyes and if you disobeyed that then you had to deal with the consequences.

cursing at him in public had to be one of the dumbest things on planet earth, but your overstimulated mind couldn’t handle thinking about what could possibly happen. it didn’t quite dawn on you until he started dragging you through the mall, but by then it was too late to fix it.

he had a short fuse and you’d lit it with your thoughtless actions.

“i was just tired, rafe, that’s all.” you pouted up at him in hopes that he’d feel some sympathy for you rather than whatever had his bright blue eyes turn a dark shade of navy. “i didn’t mean to disrespect you. i just wasn’t thinking and it came out mean, i’m sorry…”

“you wouldn’t have to apologize all the time if you just…started thinking, huh?” his hand retracted from your face just a couple inches before reconnecting harshly. his palm stung against your skin, not enough to leave a mark but enough to serve as a warning. “fucking answer me.”

“no, i wouldn’t. you’re right,” the warm tingling of your cheek let you know there was no pouting your way out of this. “i was being dumb. i’ll do better, rafey, i promise…”

manipulation was wrong, but what choice did you really have? despite rafe being quick to anger, his soft spot for you was a weakness you’ve learned to use to your advantage over the years.

when you looked up at him with pitiful, teary eyes and used that cute nickname for him in that little voice that pulled at his heartstrings, how could he stay mad at you? how could he reprimand you when you were being so sweet, so docile?

you knew very well that he was wrapped around your finger even if he did have the upperhand in the relationship, and you would absolutely play on that when you needed to.

like right now.

“baby…” rafe sighed at your wet eyes, demeanor softening at the sight. he thumbs over the skin of your cheek where he struck just you moments earlier in a soothing manner.

looking down towards the floor you begin picking at your nails, the glossy french tips occupying your line of sight instead. it was something you always did when you were nervous, but this time it was only for show.

“i’m really sorry.” if rafe were so close he wouldnt have heard the words leave your mouth. you prayed to whatever deity was watching over you to let the act work; rafe’s punishments were nothing you wanted to be on the receiving end of at the moment.

rafe exhales again before removing his hand from your face. pulling you into his chest, he leans down to place a kiss to the top of your head amidst your embrace. if it wouldn’t completely jeopardize the situation you’d jump for joy. you melt into his arms, your own limbs moving to wrap around his lean torso. his hand reaches up to stroke over your head sweetly as he speaks into your scalp.

“go lie on the bed.”

you tilted your head up at him in confusion. his softened eyes started down at you expectantly before glancing pointedly at the bed a few feet away. your feet carried you to the frame hesitantly, brows coming together as you pulled yourself up on the mattress. you’d barely settled before rafe was right there with you, his soft lips capturing yours in an embrace.

a sound of surprise on your end was swallowed by your boyfriend as he kept your lips connected. his hand came up to cup your jaw, using his thumb to pull your chin down and give him access to the pink of your mouth. you felt his tongue roll over yours gently a few times, the wet sound of saliva mixing filling your ears.

there was nothing rough about it. even when he nipped at the flesh of your puffy bottom lip, he would take it in between his own and take away the sting of it. his air mingled with yours, and the taste of him almost distracted you from what got you here in the first place. he was good at that–distracting you.

so good, that you don’t notice the sneaky hand traveling between your bodies.

you jolt when a pair of fingers lands between your legs, ones that were not your own, and traces over the thin fabric of your underwear. rafe stopped you from pulling away, the hand on your chin moving to the back of your head to keep you in place. it was hard to focus on reciprocating the kiss when you were trying to stop yourself from pushing your hips up into his slow moving hand.

the feeling of him ghosting over your panties had you whining involuntarily, face heating up with embarrassment after the sound escaped your dry throat. rafe pulled away at the noise, a small smile grazing his lips as he watched you from above. you didn’t even notice that you were grinding into his barely there fingers, desperate for him to give you something more. it had been weeks since you touched yourself, and the last time rafe touched you was before you tried to break up with him.

“you’re so cute…” rafe spoke softly against your parted lips. a breathy chuckle escaped him when you frowned at him frustratedly. “stop pouting, it’s not gonna make me go any faster.”

despite him saying that, you feel him apply more pressure to your now pulsating clit. the friction of the fabric separating his fingers from your bare skin felt good, but not good enough to satisfy you for long. he stroked you from the bottom of your clothed slit all the way to the very top of your pussy before traveling back down and repeating the action.

the slow, tantalizing circles around your attention–seeking bud made you feel just as miserable as you felt desperate for him to continue.

rafe’s eyes scanned every inch of your face; the way you trapped your lip between your teeth to keep yourself quiet, the way your big, glossy eyes stared up at him, how your breath hitches when he applied the smallest amount of pressure. there was no hiding anything from him, not when both of you could feel the arousal leaking through the thin, pink fabric that kept your modesty.

he chuckled breathily when you brought a hand down to meet his wrist. you were sure if you wanted to push him away or pull him in closer.

“what is it, baby?” rafe asks curiously. he raises a dark blond brow at the soft whine that slips from your mouth, the answer not satisfactory enough for him. “know how to cuss me out, right? your mouth works just fine–use it.”

you blinked at him slowly, the snippy response on the tip of your tongue being forced down with the saliva gathering beneath the pink muscle.

“can you…” the words were shaky as they left you, partially due to the teasing fingers spreading your wetness through your underwear. “c-can you touch me…please?”

rafe never made you ask him for anything. he always knew what you wanted, and he was more than willing to give it to you. you were a shy person and that timidity didn’t suddenly disappear when you two started being intimate with each other. it was hard for you to open up to him in that way, and he always made sure that you felt comfortable with him.

if he asked what you wanted, it was normally just teasing. he never really expected an answer and your mousy whimpers were enough for him to keep going. this was not something you were prepared for.

the blonde tilted his head to the side, feigning confusion. the way his digits were pressing into your entrance over the material made your lips part to allow a puff of air to escape.

“touch you?” he said. briefly his eyes flicker down to the hand between your legs being hidden by the fabric of your skirt before returning to meet your eyes. “am i not touching you?”

“but–i…” he was touching you, so you couldn’t argue against that, but he knew that wasn’t what you meant. “you are but th-that’s not...i mean really touch me.”

“but i am ‘really’ touching you?” you pouted at him, eyes straining as you tried your hardest to prevent them from rolling. “you want more?”

rafe made no moves to oblige to your request when you started nodding your head frantically. instead he squinted at you, blue eyes burning against your skin fueled by his irritation.

“y’know, you’re being kinda…ungrateful, don’t ya’ think?” his tongue sneaks out to moisten his pursed lips. “i’m being so nice and you aren’t even thanking me?”

the hand not occupying the space between your legs travels to take place on your face, his strong fingers pushing in on your cheeks to squish them together roughly. you could feel the pads of the digits digging into the hardness of your teeth and it made you wince from the pain.

his fingers hook beneath the fabric of your panties and move them to the side. the cool air blowing against your newly bare skin was barely noticeable when all of your focus was on your boyfriend sliding through your slick folds. rafe’s face remained stoic even when you released a borderline pornographic moan from the sudden skin to skin contact, his grip on your face preventing you from hiding the sounds of pleasure.

he’d barely touched you and you were practically leaking; it was embarrassing. it’d been forever since you felt relief and he could tell, especially when the sticky mess was all over his fingers. you wanted so badly for them to sink inside and graze against your sensitive, gummy walls, but they never went any deeper than grazing against the entrance.

“i know what m’girl wants, what she needs–” rafe’s voice is soft but he looks the very opposite. the one-eighty almost gave you whiplash; he was being so sweet just a few minutes ago and now he looks just as agitated as he did on the ride home. “i know what you want, baby, i promise…”

you have to force yourself to not chase after his retreating hand with your hips. the loss of contact brings your mind out of its fuzzy, dazed state, bare pussy exposed to the blasting air-conditioning.

his thick digits are glistening in the light and covered in your arousal, strings of the sticky substance connecting his fingers together as he examines them in front of your face. with the hand on your face he forces your mouth to open wider, the flavor of your excitement coated the pinkness of your tongue. the sudden intrusion makes your mouth water reflexively and a sound of protest makes its way out.

“but what you need, is to learn how to be fucking grateful for what i give you.” rafe drags his fingers in and out of the moist coven of your mouth, making sure to thoroughly cover your tongue in the slick that was collected on his fingers. “you should be grateful that i even touched you at all instead of shoving my cock in that nasty fucking mouth.”

you almost gasped at the vulgar language but it was interrupted by his fingers shoving themselves deep into your throat. he was unmoved by your gagging, his face getting so close to yours that your noses touched. you could feel stray tears starting to run down your face and leave wet trails in their wake.

watching as he gathers a pool of saliva in his cheeks, you could do nothing to stop him from allowing it to fall into yours. you feel it land in the back of your throat where his fingers were and flinch. the taste of him joins your pre-release in being fucked down your clenching throat by his fingers, your incessant coughing and gagging no deterrent to him.

in fact, he finds some joy in it. he chuckles at the sound of your struggling, eyes focused on the wet mess created by your mouth.

“but you don’t even deserve that…my dick is too good for you. filthy ass mouth needs to be cleaned before i’d ever give it to you. ” his blonde locks fall in his eyes as he shakes his head in disapproval. “you know what–get the fuck up.”

pulling his fingers out of your mouth completely and releasing your face, he snatches you up to your feet. he drags you to his bathroom, one of his hands flicking on the lights while the other digs into the flesh of your bicep.

you watch as he opens the medicine cabinet above the sink and slams it back shut, a white box visible in his hand from the mirror. he releases you for a moment to rip the packing open and reveal a brand new bar of soap. a state of paralysis overtook you from where you stood, eyes following him silently as he cut on the faucet. his gaze is fixated on you through the reflection of the mirror as he allows the bar of soap to foam up underneath the water.

rafe pulls you close, not giving you any chance to escape as he traps you against the bathroom counter with his back against your chest.

“open your mouth.” he says sternly. when you don’t follow instructions, his free hand reaches up to force your jaw open. “i said open your mouth!”

the bitter taste of dial disturbs you, the oval shaped bar scraping against your teeth as it’s shoved into your mouth. a muffled sound of rejection is silenced by the soap occupying all of your senses. you watch in the mirror as rafe holds both you and the foamy bar in place.

“‘i just wasn’t thinking, rafey, i’m sorry.’” the mocking words were a repeat of what you said earlier. “yeah, you are sorry–but i bet you’ll start thinking now.”

it felt like an eternity that he held the bar between your lips. when he finally pulled it away, you immediately leaned forward to spit out the substance. rafe was quicker than you, though, his large hand smacking against your lips to prevent you from ridding your mouth of the residue. your hand flew up to his wrist in an attempt to remove it but he doesn’t budge, his palm firm in its placement.

“no, you’re gonna keep it in that dirty fuckin’ mouth.” his voice was harsh in your ear, more annoyed than empathetic towards your desperate squirming. “you think some tears are gonna save your ass? not this time, baby…bet you’ll remember to watch how you talk to me, huh?”

nodding frantically, you plead with your eyes in the reflective glass before you. it was getting hard not to swallow the saliva pooling in your mouth and you weren’t sure how much longer you could handle the harsh taste of filmy, anti-bacterial suds.

you filled your mouth with handfuls of water as soon as he released you. no matter how many times you brought the liquid to your lips to rinse the residue away, it was all you could taste. rafe remained stiff at your back, the heat of his body radiating against yours as he observed you judgmentally.

“remember how that shit tasted before you ever talk to me like that again, alright?” rafe all but spits the words out at your hunched frame over the faucet. “next time…i won’t be so nice.”

you glance up into the mirror and follow his back as he exits the bathroom. straightening up to your full height you’re met with the disheveled state of your reflection, dry tear stains over your cheeks and chapped lips left behind to show for the mercilessness of your boyfriend. the counter beneath fell victim to the crushing pressure of your fingers as your knuckles strained from the tightness of your grip.

sniffling, your tongue lolled over your chapped lips to moisten them before retreating back to its place. your throat bobbed as you forced the saliva down your throat, the sound of your gulping audible in the silent bathroom. you could hear rafe was shuffling around the bedroom a few feet away, footsteps traveling back and forth as he went through the shopping bags to presumably separate his stuff from yours.

rafe hadn’t done something like that in…in forever.

the last–and only–time it happened was because you called him out of his name. you could suddenly remember the taste of lavender scented hand soap being scrubbed across your tongue by his angry fingers as he cleaned the words out of your mouth. the way your stomach turned when you would accidentally swallow the liquid every time he pushed too far down your throat. how he treated you like a petulant, misbehaving child deserving of corporal fucking punishment like it was the 1950’s.

you’d nearly forgotten that even took place–maybe because your brain decided it was a memory that had to be blocked out in order for you to stay with rafe after it occurred. you wish it had remained at the forefront of your mind so you wouldn't end up in the position again.

splashing water onto your tearstained face, you wipe away the mess before warily joining rafe in the bedroom on the other side of the doorframe. the end of the mattress was occupied by his body, the back of his head being the first thing you see.

“come here.” his voice was softer than it was earlier but it still startled you, heart beating through your chest as he beckoned you towards him.

you were suddenly reminded of the wetness between your thighs as you approached him. the way your folds slid against each other beneath your ruined underwear as you took hesitant steps in his direction. it made you feel dirty–even after being gagged with a bar of soap.

pulling you between his legs, rafe rests his arms around your waist as you stand before him. he stares up at you apologetically, almost, eyes soft and bright as he toys with the hem of your sweater. your arms hung awkwardly by your sides, stiff and unsure of where to go.

“you know i just want you to do better right?” he asks. “i’m going to marry you one day, y/n, and my wife can’t talk to me like that…especially not in public. you understand why i had to do that right?”

you say nothing. it feels as if you’re on autopilot the way your head nods, the movement almost a reflex you’d learned just to appease him.

“i can’t keep letting it slide anymore, baby. you’ll just keep doing it and i can’t let everyone think i’m–i’m a pushover…’cause i’m not. i don’t want people thinking i can’t handle my girl–you get that, right?” he nodded his head and you followed his movements, still on autopilot. “you help me be better too, y’know…i just wanna do the same for you, okay?

“okay.” the single word came out so softly you weren’t sure if he heard it. your hands came together to pick at your nails, the slightly grown-out french tips falling victim to the nervous habit.

rafe unwrapped his arms from around your waist and pulled your hands apart as he took them into his own. the warmth of his palms thawed out your freezing fingers, blood rushing back into the tips. his lips ghosted over your knuckles as he blew hot air over them and rubbed the coldness out of them. your body had focused on keeping your organs warm over your extremities, poor blood-circulation a symptom of the persistent anemia you just couldn’t seem to get rid of.

“i love you so much that…th-that i don’t even know how….” he stumbles over his words. his adam’s apple bobs as he swallows, collecting his thoughts before speaking again. “i do what i do because i love you, not because i wanna hurt you. i’d never do anything to hurt you on purpose, so don’t ever think that…okay? do you understand?”

you believed him, even though it was the last thing you wanted to do.

truly, you believed he didn’t do anything to hurt you. you knew that he never really had any bad intentions with his actions. rafe was irrational, short tempered, and had never seen what a healthy romantic relationship looked like in his life.

even with all of his flaws, has never hurt you just for the fun of it. he was mean sometimes, sure, but he was like that with everyone. actually hurting you has never been on his agenda, which is probably why you allowed yourself to stick around so long before. however, most of the things he did were reactionary to losing control. it was one of the few things he lacked in his life and he hated when the little he had was taken away from him.

you were, quite frankly, the only stable thing he had.

if anything were to threaten that stability he would lose his mind. he would do whatever it takes to eliminate that threat; even you. he couldn’t lose you, not when you were all he had. his dad treated him like a disgrace, sarah barely liked him, and sure he had friends–but if he didn’t have money or status, would they stay with him?

you’d seen rafe at his absolute worst, but you never left. when he barely treated you like a human you stuck around because you saw something in him that no one else did. he knew that even if he left, you’d still take him in with open arms and love every part of him. you understood him in a way nobody else could, and he so desperately needed that.

violence and wealth is what his father uses to maintain control over him and everyone else, so that’s all rafe knows how to do. that’s what he was taught, and it’s hard to unlearn when it works so well.

you’ve seen the things he has done to other people that have crossed him, and though he loved you to the ends of the earth, he would have no problem doing the same thing to you. he made good on his threats to the people that have done him wrong. you knew this first hand because it was you that washed the blood of his hands and bandaged his knuckles. you’d seen the dents in his golf clubs and the scratches in the paint of his car that looked an awful lot like fingernails. you never question it because getting involved in the world of drug dealing rich kids isn’t something on your list of priorities, but you were well aware of what he did to people.

he knew scaring you would keep you around, so that’s what he does. keeps you in a constant state of fear. even if it meant giving you a mouthful of soap.

“i understand.” you dropped your chin lower to look him directly in the eye. his long lashes brushed over the tops of his cheeks as his eyes fluttered open and shut. “i know you’d never hurt me on purpose, so don’t worry about that. i love you…and i’m sorry.”

rafe sighed heavily–out of relief or exhaustion? you weren’t sure.

opening up your hand to reveal your palm, you watched as he brought it close to his face to place gentle kisses over the skin. you felt him press his lips against each section of your hand from the bottom to the top, no area left untouched. turning it over, he repeats his previous actions. each knuckle on your right hand is left tingling by the pink, pillowy flesh.

“you’re so perfect for me…my perfect girl.” he whispers loud enough for you to hear, eyes opening up to stare back into your watchful gaze above him. “you’re gonna be my perfect wife, too; i know it. gonna put a ring on this finger right here–”

taking a hold of your forefinger, he places a kiss there in the same manner he did your other fingers. he keeps his lips there longer; the intimate action makes your stomach do a flip and your heart swell. you’d felt so many emotions today that you wanted nothing more than to turn your brain off–but he made it so impossible.

“and make you mine forever.” rafe finishes the sentence after pulling away. he laces his fingers into yours and pulls you in with his freehand on your lower back. “everyone’s gonna be so jealous because they can never have you–could never be you.”

even though it killed you to admit it; you wanted it just as much as he did. well, probably not as much–but you’d be lying to yourself if you said you couldn’t see yourself with him forever. the idea of him putting a ring on your finger put a smile on your face even when you tried your hardest to suppress it.

fear wasn’t the only thing keeping you around.

#dark!rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x kook!reader #rafe cameron x pogue!reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #obx fanfiction #obx1 #obx2 #drew starkey #rafe cameron x oc #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks x reader #rafe outer banks #obx3 #cleoluvrr fics

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shuenkio · 4 months

Text

Kissing I hope they catch us | 💋

Paring: Whipped!Sunghoon x m!reader

Genre: fluffy, very fluffy?

Cw: just a pure hidden feeling.

Summary: He wants to brag about you to the whole campus.

Non proof read.

Words: 1.2k

English is not my first language!

Being friends with Sunghoon was not an easy move, since he's quite popular because of his charm, especially his face. You'll also find him very attractive as a boy yourself; he looks cold on the outside, but all his friends have said otherwise. He's actually timid, which gives you another reason to get close to him even more; curiosity could kill the cat, they say.

He's the heartthrob of the campus; whenever he walks, he can grab all the attention with his presence. Why would he be a college student when he could make millions of bucks by posing in front of the camera?

Later on, as the times passed, you decided to experience new things by joining a club, and it's a music club. You've always been passionate about it; you love singing and playing instruments such as the piano, electric guitar, and violin. Not only that, you're also fond of dancing, based on the club's requirements.

You're thinking students would choose other clubs besides music because it's less popular. And there's more thrilling, excited, and amazing clubs out there than just playing an instrument while singing.

You open the music club room to fill out your application, but not until your gaze lands on someone you've always wanted to say hi to, Sunghoon Park.

Despite being stunned on the spot at the doorway, you, yourself, have already grabbed everyone's eyes toward you. In return, Sunghoon moved his lip muscle, smiling softly at you.

You snap out before dragging your feet to the leader, known as Jungwon. He was a friendly student, though; you know him since he's the same year as you. He will take your paper and inspect your answers. While he's busy, he then introduces you to the other members who are standing there doing nothing.

You move shyly, greeting them by asking for a handshake. It was normal with the other; nevertheless, when your hand lands on Sunghoon's palm, you find yourself on the edge of exploding. Why is his hand so cold yet so calm? A red blurry blush spread across your face; you couldn't help it at the moment; you've met the campus's celebrity. They wouldn't lie when they said Sunghoon is an iceman on the outside, because in reality, he's friendly and talkative to those who approach him first.

And since then, the music club has been completed with you. The name of the group is "ENH." Connection and passion mixed together created a temporary group of artists.

Hanging out was not enough; Jungwon wanted everyone to stick together always, so he asked us to move into his mansion that his grandparents left just for him.

Your mind was blown to the fact, surprised at his statement, but you wouldn't mind making music together without leaving anyone.

To do that, you have to get close with them first, get more comfortable with them, and have a conversation with them in order to grow closer so you won't be awkward with your surroundings. It's also beneficial for the charming guy since he's timid.

Days turn into weeks, and weeks turn into months. By breathing in the same air, you regret your decision to befriend Sunghoon, whom you thought was an angel on the inside. As a matter of fact, once he got comfortable with you, he began to show his true color. Not only is he wild, but he's also a really loud introvert you've never seen in your entire life.

He said, "I don't like skin ships, eh?" That was back in the day, as you asked him, and in reality, he's super duper clingy like Golden Retriever, but in a calmer version.

He only acts crazy when you're alone with him. He would randomly hug you back, cuddle in the same bed, take care of you secretly, and give you cheeks a kiss out of the blue with his non-sense mumble, "Just because.".

You're also finding those very weird; you don't go and question him about whether he likes you by making sweet gestures like friends would; however, his signals and behavior speak a different language as he keeps getting more and more suspicious.

You gather the courage to speak to him personally, somewhere private, one day. Randomly, you asked him to meet you at the music club room since all the other members were already running for their schedules, leaving only him and you on campus, having a free period, coincidentally.

While waiting for him, you take a seat as you move your fingertip, tapping the piano note as far as you remember, and playing an elegant song by" by ENH.

As you trace down your palm, still focus on playing until you finish with the last final note. When you heard a clapping sound behind your back, You turn your head to the sauce, revealing Sunghoon, who was standing with a bubbly grin on his handsome face.

"Bravo teddy bear, that was incredible."

He moved his feet to your place, and he then pressed a big hug as a greeting.

"You said you wanted to ask me something private?" He said, pulling out of the embrace slowly, looking at you with his lovely eyes, as if you were the most precious thing ever.

You take a deep breath and assemble your strength to ask him about your soaking thought that had no answer.

"Would you be mad if I went straight to the point?" You spoke, throwing your hands together at the back. He raised one of his eyebrows in return, oblivious to your question.

"Why would I be mad at someone as cute as you, Mn? Go on, hit me up." He replies without any awkwardness, giggling under his throat at what will come at him as you have a flashback to the time when he couldn't even ask you to pass the water.

"Did you like me or not? I don't care what you would think of me as gay or whatever, but I want a real answer." You stated that you were seeking his answer to your unanswered.

Sunghoon was rubbing his chin and pouting his lip before he unexpectedly took a quick peek at your lip.

"This should be enough for you; don't be afraid to tell me if you want more. Details." He folded his hand after he left, and you zipped your mouth. He careless his lip, still having those quick kisses against your pretty kissable lip.

You're standing there, unable to move an inch; not only has he left you shocked, he's also left you hanging still. Is he playing with you or is this for real?

"Y-you... Hmm... So you like me? How much? Don't tell me you are playing with my feelings!" Concerned about your own feelings, his quick kiss is still fresh on your lips, but you brush it off as you mumble again. This feels untrue in no way.

"If I say I'm actually obsessed with you, would you believe it?"

"...hell nah"

"Exactly. You won't believe it, although I want to shout at the whole school that you're my boyfriend."

"What are you saying, Hyung? Don't joke with me!!" Your face was catching fire at the moment, processing the words that left his mouth. There's no way he likes you, yet his gesture already proves it.

"Whenever they like it or not, I want to show you off that I want you to be my boyfriend!! I want to brag to everyone about you, Teddy Bear."

"Please accept my love, I—like—you, and I'm sorry~ ijbol."

🗣️ please mind my English! ><

🗣️Reblog and like is much appreciated ♥🗣️ bare with me with this one 😔👊 I suddenly write this when I heard Agora hill, no plan. Fluffy Sunghoon fic let's go 🫨

🗣️ crd to all pic&dividers especially anitalenia for dividers!

#enhypen #enha imagines #enha fluff #enhypen x male reader #enha x male reader #enha x you #enhypen scenarios #kpop x male reader #park sunghoon #enha sunghoon #enha scenarios #enhypen sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x reader #sunghoon fluff #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen fic #enha x reader #enha fanfic

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cinnamostar · 10 months

Text

01: self-fulfilling prophecy

part two.

pairing : jisung x gn!reader

summary : han jisung, the man who is incapable of maintaining a relationship for more than a few months. han jisung, the man who is in complete denial that maybe he is the problem. han jisung, the man who has convinced himself he isn’t meant for love.

wc : 8.5k

cw : not proof read, nonidol!au, alcohol/drinking, sadness, angst, arguing, cursing, some cute stuff. plz let me know if i missed anything.

a/n : likes, reblogs, and feedback is much appreciated!! not too confident on this one because idk, i feel like the dialogue isn’t well executed, but let me know what you think. please enjoy!

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Jisung didn’t exactly have the best track record when it came to romance. He never did anything exceedingly horrendous, he always remained faithful in each relationship he had, but they never lasted long. He simply didn’t know how to be a good partner, always too focused on his own needs to the point that his selfishness turned into emotional neglect for the other.

It’s not that he didn’t like the people he dated. He genuinely adored them for who they were, yet he always found himself heartbroken and confused at the end of each relationship when they would all voice the same exact reasonings on why they were ending it.

“I just don’t feel like you care about my feelings.”

“It feels like you don’t even like me enough to put in the effort to make this work.”

“I don’t feel like a priority in your life.”

“I swear you forget we’re even in a relationship.”

“You’re too focused on yourself and everything else to even make time for me.”

Like clockwork, a few months would pass by and his partner would sit him down for the break up talk. It was exhausting. He was clueless, not having any idea what he was doing so wrong even though he would always receive a list of reasons each time. In his eyes, he was doing the best he could, but perhaps his best was not enough.

Of course he cared for their feelings! Of course he liked them, he could’ve sworn he was doing his damnedest. Not a priority? That was ridiculous, he always made time to spend with his partner during the week despite his busy schedule. Forget? Nonsense! Too focused on himself? Well, of course he was focused on pursuing his music career which required long hours at the studio, why would he want to be with someone who didn’t support his endeavors? They knew what they were getting into when they met him!

It made zero sense to Jisung. At some point, he had given up on love altogether. Maybe he just wasn’t meant for it, maybe relationships were just not his thing. Clearly, he was doing something wrong and he decided that maybe hook up culture was just where he belonged.

What Jisung failed to realize was that he was forcing his own ideals of a relationship onto his partners. The idea that people had different needs and perceptions on how relationships should function never dawned on him. He never thought to consider what the other person wanted and had simply assumed they would be content with whatever he had to offer.

He forgot that some people needed more reassurance. He forgot some people wanted to go on actual dates, not everyone considered a night in a date, especially if every date was a night in. He forgot that some people didn’t just want to sit in a room with him while he was on his phone or working on his next project. Sometimes people wanted his undivided attention. Sometimes people wanted to be able to hold a conversation with him. Sometimes people needed more communication because quite frankly, three texts a day didn’t quite cut it for most people.

Yet, Jisung was too absorbed in his own world and his passions to even begin to understand that concept. He absolutely refused to believe he was doing something wrong and that he was just dating the wrong people this whole time. He just hadn’t found the one, right?

Despite that foolish belief he stubbornly held onto, it didn’t mean each instance didn’t take a hit on his ego. After the many failed relationships he had been through, the fear of inadequacy and insecurity began to creep into his mind. Was he not worthy of love? Was he incapable of forming a healthy relationship? Was something wrong with him?

He felt that he had so much love to offer in his heart, but he had no idea what it took to be a good partner. He was too tunnel visioned on producing and music to realize that sometimes, love and relationships required a bit of sacrifice, and that was something he refused to do.

Yet, Jisung wanted to fall in love. Like any other human on earth, he craved to love and be loved, to be understood wordlessly by someone else, but it seemed like love didn’t welcome him with open arms. He desperately wanted to feel like he was needed and wanted, to feel the bubbling shyness and giddiness that only love could give him, but somehow, it seemed that he was the victim of a paradox. Love hated him.

However, Jisung had resigned and accepted defeat. He wasn’t cut out for it. Besides, it’s not like anyone would even bother to give him a chance anymore. After a few failed relationships, people were quick to label him as ‘trash’ and a terrible boyfriend, only good for fun, but definitely nothing more. It was almost as if he had a permanent warning label above his head that scared off anyone who had any remote interest in him.

People talked. And if anyone so much expressed any interest in him, someone would leap in to rescue them from a foreseeable heartbreak, telling them he was no good and a waste of time. Oh, but if you wanted a few nights of fun and to just fool around, he was perfect for that, but never, and absolutely under no circumstances, was he someone to settle down with.

He was the only one to blame for his infamy in the dating scene, but Jisung was suffering from a case of extreme delusion and oblivion. Maybe one day he would lose that self-centered immaturity and have a much needed epiphany, but that day seemed far off in the future.

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For the past week, Jisung had holed himself in his studio, insistent on perfecting his latest track by some arbitrary deadline he had set for himself. This was a regular occurrence that his friends had gotten used to. They would be more surprised if this didn’t happen, but this also meant that they had to pay a visit to his studio every few days and force him to take a break for the sake of his mental and physical health.

Today was one of those days in which Minho came knocking at his door after unlocking the door with the passcode Jisung had given him long ago, reminding him to come by his place later that night for a small party to celebrate his dance troop’s recent competition win. While Jisung was proud of this achievement, part of him felt a tad bit annoyed that he had to interrupt his work schedule for someone else, but Minho was one of his best friends, he at the very least should show up for a bit. He could stay for an hour or two, and hopefully by then everyone would be a little too drunk to notice he had escaped back to his studio.

Jisung sighed as he begrudgingly made his way to Minho’s apartment, dreading the amount of people he would have to socialize with tonight. He was relieved to know that a few familiar faces would be there, such as Hyunjin and Felix, who were also part of the troop, but the team had also gone through auditions recently, meaning there would be people he would have to meet for the first time.

He wasn’t one for befriending strangers, as oftentimes, many of them had a negative impression of him due to his dating history. He hated how every time he introduced himself, as soon as the words “Han Jisung�� left his mouth, people’s faces would drop into an unreadable expression, almost as if they were disappointed to finally meet the man who was rumored to be complete and utter trash. It was anxiety-inducing and turned him off from seeking out new friendships because everyone would always say “Oh! Did you used to date my friend?” And at that moment, he knew it was over. They hated him before they even got to know him. As a result, Jisung always felt apprehensive when it came to meeting new people and he much preferred sticking with his small circle of friends.

As Jisung arrived at the front steps of Minho’s apartment, he felt his shoulders tense up with trepidation as he subconsciously bit the inside of his cheek. The party had already started with the music blaring throughout the building, the lights dimmed with colorful LEDs visible from the window. A chorus of joyful cheers followed by the clinking of shot glasses and laughter could be heard from outside, signaling that the party was already in full swing. Jisung let out an uneasy groan, unprepared for what the night would bring, but reassured himself knowing that he only needed to stay for at least an hour before he could retreat back to the safe haven known as his studio.

After a sharp inhale, Jisung put on a fake smile as he opened the door, instantly greeted by a drunken Changbin who was double fisting two beers, wearing a toothy smile.

“Jisung! You made it!”

The last thing Jisung wanted tonight was to be put in the spotlight, which Changbin just unknowingly thrust him into with no warning. Others nearby turned their attention to the front door, some choosing to ignore Jisung’s presence to continue their conversations while others politely waved or called out a quick hello.

Minho shortly appeared in Jisung’s vision, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled him into a one-armed hug, “Glad you showed up, I was worried you forgot!” An airy chuckle escaped Minho as Jisung gasped, feigning a look of betrayal while playfully shoving Minho’s shoulder, “How dare you think I’d forget my best friend’s party? I would never!”

Minho rolled his eyes at Jisung’s gesture before dragging him by his wrist. “Whatever you say, but c’mon! I want you to meet our new members. Plus, you look a little too stiff for my liking,so let's get some drinks in ya first.”

Suddenly, shot glasses filled with tequila were shoved into Jisung’s hand as people egged him on to down them, chasing the two shots with lime and salt to cut through the harshness of the alcohol. A familiar buzz took over his senses, his head feeling lighter than usual as a lopsided smile appeared on his face while the nervousness he felt earlier quickly dissipated.

The bit of liquid courage energized Jisung enough to forget all the now seemingly silly concerns he had earlier as he jumped through the bunches of people, excitedly yapping away as he caught up with friends and introduced himself to new people. Each time he noticed someone cringing at the sound of his name or giving him a dirty look, he would promptly take another shot to rid himself of the anxiety he was feeling, hoping the alcohol would make him just unaware enough of any other glares he would receive from people that night.

Eventually, Jisung made his way to the loft upstairs to take a break from the hectic party below, already feeling a headache coming on. He stumbled his way to the couch, not paying much mind to his surroundings as he plopped himself onto the couch, immediately throwing his head back while shutting his eyes.

“Oh, he definitely overdid it again,” laughed Felix from the left of him, “How many shots did you take?”

Jisung waved his hand as if he was shooing Felix away while mumbling, “Don’t even ask.”

He heard an unfamiliar giggle erupt from the right side of him, causing him to sit straight up with his eyes wide, hastily snapping his head to see who the laugh belonged to, not expecting anyone other than his friends here.

He found himself staring into your eyes that were crinkled from laughing, a lax smile adorning your face as you brought up a hand to hide behind. Your laugh was rich and decadent, almost as sweet as chocolate, and your smile was so refreshing that it instantly roused him from his drunken state the moment his eyes landed on you.

Oh, shit, they’re cute.

Jisung’s inebriated state had caused him to lose all self-awareness because all he could do was gawk at you with enamored eyes, his lips slightly parted as he struggled to find the words to introduce himself. He felt his face flush from embarrassment when you returned his gaze while wearing an expectant expression, patiently waiting for him to finish his sentence.

“I- Oh, uhm, I…”

You had instantly captured his heart with the most saccharine smile he has ever seen and within a few seconds, Jisung was undeniably smitten, but he was also completely making a fool of himself within those same few seconds.

“Jesus christ, Jisung, how drunk are you?” howled Hyunjin, who had gotten up to lightly poke Jisung’s cheek, “Helloooo, earth to Jisung? Anyone home?”

“Dude… Close your mouth before you start drooling over there. I don’t think that’s an image you want Y/N to have during your first meeting,” Seungmin, who was sitting on the floor, mischievously sneered, quickly recognizing Jisung’s speechless state was caused by something more than just alcohol. Jisung shook his head side to side to wake himself from his lovestruck daze, clearing his throat in an attempt to cover up Seungmin’s comment.

“Mm, sorry! I just-,”

Oh, this is bad, he really is making this so much worse for himself. He was now regretting all the shots from earlier as he tripped over his words, his nerves not being of any help. He desperately was trying to say something sensible, but instead, all he could blurt out was,

“Jisung! I’m Jisung… yeah!”

Now it is a lot worse as Jisung cringed at how loud and annoying his voice was, everyone else also seemingly cowering from second hand embarrassment as they watched the scene unfold, but no one was able to peel their eyes away.

Like an angel sent from heaven, Felix decided to have mercy on the brown haired boy, peeking out from behind Jisung to meet your eyes at the other side of the couch. “Y/N, this is our friend Jisung! He makes music with Changbin and Chan. Jisung, this is Y/N. They’re one of our newest members on the team.” God, Jisung could kiss Felix right now from how relieved he was to have alleviated the awkward tension he had just created moments earlier.

You nodded, smiling at Jisung as your eyes lit up in realization, “Oh, Jisung? I’ve heard about you before.”

Ah, there it is. Of course! Of course you have and how stupid of him to think he’d be able to have an untarnished first impression with you and-

“Minho says so many good things about you! He even showed me some of your songs. You’re really talented at what you do, I definitely added a few to my playlist.”

Someone pinch Jisung right now because he must be dreaming, there’s absolutely no way. Is luck finally on his side? Has God finally decided to be oh-so-merciful today? He was on cloud nine as he relished in your compliments, savoring this moment because this may never happen again.

Jisung clicked his teeth as he waved both his hands in front of him with a flustered smile, “Oh, no, no, no, I am not that good! But thank you!” The alcohol was really doing a number on him as he slurred over each syllable, but thankfully he was coherent enough for everyone to understand what he said.

You let out a breathy laugh at his antics while standing from your seat, “Well, it's nice to finally put a face to the name, but I do have to go now, I have to be up early.”

Jisung deflated as everyone wished you good night, feeling disappointed how quickly your first meeting with him ended. Hyunjin stood up, offering to walk you out and once you were out of earshot, Jisung whipped his head to Felix.

“Felix… Who was that? How long have you been hiding them from me?”

Seungmin struggled to contain his laugh, earning a confused look from Jisung, “What are you laughing at?”

“Dude, you. You looked so stupid trying to talk to them.”

Jisung threw himself back into the couch, sinking into the cushions with an embarrassed groan, “Shut up, I know.”

Felix laughed, shooting Jisung a pitiful smile, “You’ve done worse, it’s fine. And no one was hiding them from you, you just never show up when we invite you anywhere. That is your own fault, not ours!” Jisung pouted, cursing himself mentally for rejecting all those plans.

“They’re cool, they’ve been on our team for a few months. Crazy good at dancing too, we are super lucky to have them.”

“Are they dating anyone?”

The room grew quiet at Jisung’s question as Seungmin and Felix looked at each other with uneasiness, unsure how to respond. Hyunjin had come back up the stairs after walking you to your car, just in time to hear Jisung. He let out a heavy sigh, alerting everyone of his presence.

“I… I think it's best if you just leave them alone, Jisung. They’re a really sweet person and you, well…”

“Me what? What do you mean?” Jisung furrowed his eyebrows at Hyunjin as the taller boy struggled to finish his thought.

“Just don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why?”

“Seriously, Jisung? I know you’re wasted right now, but don’t make me say it. You know exactly what I’m talking about.”

And he did, he knew that Hyunjin was referring to his dating history, but Jisung felt himself growing angry hearing his friend allude to him being a bad partner, suggesting he would hurt you.

“No, I want to hear you say it,” Jisung spat out, a scowl painted all over his face as he stared down Hyunjin with his arms crossed, who was still standing by the stairs. He felt himself become warm in frustration as all the insecurities he held close to his heart started to bubble up. Did his own friend’s think so poorly of him too?

Felix reached out to put a reassuring hand on Jisung’s shoulder, hoping to defuse the situation, “Let’s not do this right now. You’re still drunk, Jisung.” Jisung shook Felix’s hand off his shoulders, standing up while still glaring at Hyunjin with clenched fists.

“Say it.”

“Jisung-” warned Felix, but he was cut off by Seungmin.

“You’re a shit boyfriend, Jisung. We don’t need you hurting someone we’re friends with again.”

The room was silent as everyone now stared at Seungmin with wide eyes, startled at how blunt he was being. Jisung didn’t know what he was feeling as a flash of rage took over his body, but at the same time, he felt his heart drop hearing those words come out of his own friend’s mouth. It was now Hyunjin’s turn to butt in,

“Seungmin, stop-”

“No, he needs to hear it straight up. He fucking sucks and you all know I’m right. I’m tired of him acting like he isn’t the problem. Leave Y/N alone. They’re better off without you.”

Jisung felt hot tears well up in his eyes as he took in every one of Seungmin’s words, each casting daggers into his heart. His worst nightmares were coming true as he realized that it wasn’t just strangers and ex-lovers who viewed in such a negative light, but the people he trusted so much, his own friends, also thought the same of him. The fury laced in Seungmin’s voice cut Jisung deep as every syllable pushed him over the edge til Jisungfound himself falling into a pit of sadness and hurt, his stomach flipping onto itself on his way down.

Was he really that bad? Wait, no! How dare Seungmin say such a thing to him? What does Seungmin even know about Jisung’s past relationship? He was stepping out of line! The sadness instantly subsided, soon being replaced with a familiar feeling of denial and anger as Jisung stomped towards Seungmin, crouching down to meet him on the floor. Jisung sloppily grabbed Seungmin by the collar of his shirt, pulling him close to his face.

“What the fuck did you just say? Take it back right fucking now,” growled Jisung, venom dropping down from each word.

Seungmin rolled his eyes, pushing the drunken boy off him who stumbled backwards, “See, this right here is your problem. You can’t even begin to accept that you’re in the wrong.” Seungmin stood up, now looking down at Jisung who still hadn’t regained his balance. He took in an exasperated inhale, a subdued smile replacing the vexed look he just had as he softened his tone, “Look, Jisung. I love and care for you, but I cannot turn a blind eye and let you hurt someone else. I mean it. Leave them alone.” With that, Seungmin made his way to the stairs, wanting nothing more than to get away from Jisung at that moment before he said something he’d later regret.

Jisung remained seated on the floor as he was processing the words and emotions that were rushing in all at once, his drunken brain unsure how to handle all the information he was just fed. He laid his head into his hands as his brain echoed Seungmin’s words again and again.

Jisung felt his breath get caught in his throat as he hiccuped a quiet sob, his body starting to tremble as the tears he was holding back for so long finally fell. His body collapsed onto itself as his heart stuttered in his chest, his lungs burning from the lack of air as he continued to inconsolably weep, struggling to breathe between his cries.

Maybe he is as bad as everyone said he was.

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

A few weeks had gone by since Jisung and Seungmin’s argument at the party, but the tension between the two boys didn’t last long as Seungmin showed up to Jisung’s apartment the very next day with a bowl of soup for his hangover and an apology, which Jisung graciously accepted, neither wanting to be upset at each other any longer.

Despite that, the words Seungmin had said never left Jisung, leaving a permanent scar on his brain as he constantly recalled the moment. The words painfully rang through his ears as a ball of shame and misery formed in his stomach while he reminisced about his past relationships, trying to figure out what he did so wrong.

Jisung felt horrible as he carried this weight of guilt on his shoulders as he wondered how his actions had hurt others and how he had remained oblivious for so long. All the insecurities and fears he had about himself were true at the end. Everyone around him was in agreement that he was the issue and he was the one behaving so selfishly in every relationship. He could understand that and he knew if his friend’s felt that way, it had to be the truth, but he was still struggling to identify what exactly about him and his behavior was so bad.

Sure, he could reach out and ask his friends to help see what he was missing, but he was too afraid to face the reality of the situation, not ready to take another brutal beating of words. He was terrified to hear the truth, but he knew the same conclusion he came to long ago remained true. Love was just not for him, it didn’t want him the same way he did.

Everyone had taken note of Jisung’s downtrodden mood and thought he had just needed a few days to collect himself, but once everyone realized more time had passed and that he didn’t even have the will to attend a recording session with Chan and Changbin, everyone went into crisis mode. So, over the last few weeks, someone would show up to Jisung’s house to check in on him and either spend a few hours with him at home, or forcefully drag him out the house to spend time with the group, insisting it would help him feel better.

Each time someone had forced him out, he would be huffing and sulking like a grumpy toddler throwing a tantrum, but as soon as he got there, he would be as cheery as ever and would end the day feeling a lot better. He hated how right his friends were, but he was always thankful for every time they dragged him out despite his whiny and bratty attitude.

However, there was another mental battle Jisung was fighting that everyone was unaware of, or so he thought, and he was definitely not coming out of it as a winner. Unfortunately for Jisung, since the time you joined Minho’s dance team, you had hit it off so well with the rest of the group that you were there almost every time Jisung joined you guys on an outing. And each day he spent with you, he found himself falling more and more for you.

He was really trying to stop himself, as he took Seungmin’s words to heart and imagined that sentiment was shared with everyone else, but this task was becoming an impossible one for Jisung to tackle!

It was weird. Every time he’d get invited out, Jisung would dread seeing you because he knew he was doomed to a hopeless, unrequited love with you, but if you weren’t there, he would be so disappointed and would find himself wanting to go home sooner. He wanted to stay as far away from you as possible, but something about you drew him in and he couldn’t resist and now here he is, finding himself in a friendship with you that he could not escape.

It’s not that he didn't want to be friends with you, if anything he loved the friendship you two had grown in such a short time and how quickly he became fond of you. You were incredibly sweet to Jisung, constantly showing your consideration for him everyday in new ways. If he ever felt anxious or out of place, you were the first to take notice and offer to get him out of whatever stuffy social situation he was in and stay with him til he was ready to join the others again. If he had decided to stay in that day, you’d send him a message letting know he was missed and hoped to see him the next time. There was even a time where he was too sick to leave the house, and much to his surprise, he found you and Minho at his front door steps with food and medicine.

Somehow, unlike everyone else before you, you had shown him a special kind of unwavering kindness and didn’t judge him for his past. For the first time in years, he finally felt safe and unconditionally loved in a friendship that wasn’t one of the boys. That was enough for Jisung to know that you were someone he wanted to keep in his life for as long as possible, even if it meant he had to confront eventual heartbreak and only stay by your side as nothing more than a friend.

But, that was okay. That was more than enough for him because as long as you were there, he would give you his all and support you endlessly. He would do anything to see you smile, anything to ensure your happiness, and if that meant he couldn’t be your lover, then that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. Besides, no one has ever been happy with him in a relationship. This was how it had to be, this is how he could protect you from himself.

Regardless of how Jisung felt towards you, he had seriously doubted you had any interest in him in the first place. How could someone as angelic as you want to be with, well, trash? There was no way you hadn’t heard about his disastrous dating history, and if you were as smart as he thought you were, that alone would turn you off from him. Not only that, he was pretty sure you had heard about the fight he had with Seungmin and if that fight said anything about him, it showed that he was a mess of insecurities and arrogance. Why on Earth would you ever like someone like that? And if you heard about the fight, he was positive that Seungmin and everyone else had warned you about him and dissuaded you from even considering anything romantic with him.

It was doomed!

And although Jisung had earnestly vowed to himself he would not engage in anything romantic with you, he was failing miserably. His affection towards you was something everyone picked up on. He always, no matter what, had his undivided attention on you as you ranted to him about whatever bothered you that day or how you were struggling to nail a part of your dance routine. It was obvious. He loved hearing you talk and could listen to you for hours as if you were his own personal podcast, always mirroring your emotion and blindly agreeing with you during your rants, always asking you questions whenever you rambled on about your own hobbies and interests.

If someone ever talked over you, he’d make sure to ask you what you were going to say. If you were upset that day, he’d always offer to buy you ice cream and insist to the group that they all needed to stop by the local ice cream shop. If you ever showed him a video of your latest dance routine, he’d shower you with a ridiculous amount of compliments until you were a flustered mess asking him to stop. And every time he noticed you were wearing a new outfit, changed your hair, or wore different jewelry, he would be quick to notice and let you know how wonderful you looked. He was shamelessly flirting with you, and he hadn’t even realized how far he had let it go.

On the other side of the pond, you were well aware of every horrible thing that was said about Jisung, even long before you had become a member of Minho’s team, and to be quite frank, you thought he was a complete asshole from what you’ve heard. But once you realized that he was one of Minho’s lifelong best friends, you knew you had to push your personal feelings aside, especially when you realized some of the music Minho had you perform with was Jisung’s original work. You hated to admit it, but he was an absolute genius when it came to music production and you were slowly becoming a fan of his work.

All you could tell yourself was that he couldn’t have been that bad if everyone was still his friend and reminded yourself people change, it’s not like you were going to end up liking the guy anyway.

Oh, but you were so wrong.

The first time you saw him at Minho’s party, you thought he was so irresistibly adorable during his drunken babbling, and you were honestly taken aback that the cute man who sat in front of you was none other than Han Jisung. Although, it did help soften your initial thoughts of him, making you think maybe he wasn’t that bad, especially after seeing him become a blushing mess at the mere sight of you, but those thoughts were quickly pushed away while Hyunjin walked you to your car after you left.

“Y/N…”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sure you’ve heard about Jisung from other people, right?”

“Oh, I’ve heard plenty, but he doesn’t seem so bad though.”

“Well, he isn’t if you’re just friends with him, but… He definitely seemed into you when he saw you and as your friend, I feel like it is my responsibility to let you know that he isn’t someone you should pursue. I love him, but you deserve someone better than that… I would hate to see him hurt another one of my friends.”

“Ah, no worries, Hyunjin. I’ve made dumb dating choices in the past, but I’m not that stupid.”

Except, you were that stupid. So, so, so incredibly stupid and you were terrified that anyone would uncover your growing crush on the boy. You could already imagine both Hyunjin and Seungmin’s disappointed looks, and you promised yourself you were taking this little secret to the grave. You had every reason in the world to not be attracted to Jisung, especially after hearing how he put his hands on Seungmin during their argument! Drunk or not, there’s no excuse for that and his denial of his actions said so much about him.

Yet, here you are, sitting next to Jisung on the couch in the living room of Minho’s place, excitedly talking to him about the latest episode of the drama you were currently watching, gossiping to him as if the actors were real people you knew in your personal life. He sat on the couch with his legs crossed, facing you while nodding along to every word you said, his eyes trained on you and you alone.

“And-, oh my god, I almost forgot, but the lead then told her to shut up! Can you believe that?!”

Jisung would then gasp, theatrically putting his hand on his chest, “No fucking way… What is his problem?”

“Right! And then-,” you paused for a moment, suddenly feeling insecure that you were forcing Jisung to listen about something he probably didn’t care for. You sighed and gave him an apologetic smile as you anxiously twiddled your fingers, “I’m sorry, I got carried away, you probably don’t wanna listen to me talk about some stupid drama.”

This time, Jisung did look genuinely surprised as his eyebrows furrowed upward with panicked eyes, “What? No, I love hearing you talk about this, you’re always so excited that it’s adorable.” He hated how fast your mood changed and started to worry if he had done something to make you feel that way. Did he look uninterested? Was he not responsive enough?

“Did I do something to make you think I didn’t want to listen?”

You felt your cheeks grow warm at Jisung calling you adorable, and then felt your heart start beating loudly in your chest when he asked you that question with all the concern and worry in the world filling his eyes. You shot straight up in your seat, returning his gaze with astonishment, not expecting him to be so considerate. “No, no, you didn’t do anything wrong… I just…” You paused for a moment, trying to find the words without revealing too much on how you were feeling, “I just got nervous for a moment, I don’t know.”

Jisung nodded as you spoke, taking your hands in his as he gave you a reassuring smile, “Y/N, I promise there’s nothing more I’d love than to hear you talk. You could be explaining the most boring thing ever, and I would still listen to you happily.”

In the kitchen stood Hyunjin, Seungmin, and Minho who were watching the scene unfold before them as they prepared food for everyone, while the others were upstairs playing whatever video game upstairs. Seungmin narrowed his eyes as he watched Jisung reach for your hands, taking note of the flustered look on your face.

“I think Y/N likes him.”

Hyunjin and Minho turned to Seungmin for a moment, then looked back at you and Jisung, unsure what exactly Seungmin saw other than Jisung’s flirtations.

Hyunjin let out an annoyed exhale as he continued to fry the eggs on the pan, then muttering, “There’s no way that’s possible. Y/N knows better.”

“I don’t know. Just look at them, they act like there’s no one else in the room when they’re together,” whispered Seungmin.

“I guess,” murmured Hyunjin, clearly upset about Seungmin’s hunch, “This is going to end terribly, isn’t it?”

Minho silently stood as he separated the ramen noodles that were boiling in the pot, humming along as he listened to the two younger boys angrily whisper. “I think it will be okay. I think our Jisungie has learned his lessons.”

The other two looked at him with disbelief, neither believing Jisung was capable of ever growing from the immature mindset he had for as long as they’ve known him. Hyunjin scoffed, “No, you don’t really think that, do you?”

Minho kept his eyes on the stove as the other two stared down at the back of his head, shrugging his shoulders, “Well, I could be wrong, I can’t exactly predict the future, but…” He then glanced back at the couch, smiling as Jisung made you laugh, “He treats them differently. I don’t know why, but he does. Don’t you two think so?”

Seungmin and Hyunjin stayed silent, not being able to deny Minho’s statement because they fully knew he wasn’t wrong. Everyone knew something in Jisung had changed when he had met you, and everyone saw how gently he treated you, almost as if he was scared he could scare you away with one little misstep.

“Whatever, I still don’t trust him,” Hyunjin grumbled, putting the last of the eggs on a plate.

Minho chuckled at both of the boy’s protectiveness, “That’s okay, no one is forcing you to, but remember, they’re both adults. They can do what they want, no matter how stupid we all think it is.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

Months had gone by and there was no denying the small romance that had flourished between you and Jisung. You both were hopelessly head-over-heels for the other, to the point that everyone around you two had grown sick of it and was praying for the day where one of you would finally confess your feelings to the other.

You had long given up on hiding your feelings for the boy from your friends, especially after one day Seungmin had confronted you and told you it was the most obvious thing in the world. Part of you had prepared yourself for Seungmin to berate you for your poor taste in men, especially after the plethora of warnings you had been given about Jisung, but instead, he was very supportive and wanted you to feel comfortable enough to talk to him about it, even if he thought you could do better.

Jisung had become a part of your daily life, spending nearly everyday with each other or at the very least, you both had become accustomed to texting one another throughout the day. You’d start your day either sending or receiving a ‘good morning’ text from him and you’d end your day the same way, except it was a ‘good night’ text.

You’d often pay him a visit at his studio on days he had lost track of time, always letting yourself in after he had given you the passcode to the door, which he had only given to you, Minho, Chan, and Changbin. It came to you as a surprise when he gave you the code to his studio, insisting that you needed it so you could drop in whenever you wanted, telling you that you were always a welcomed guest at his studio. In reality, Jisung just wanted an excuse to see you more, and you had taken the bait as you would often show up with an iced americano in hand and whatever takeout food you were in the mood for that day.

If you ever had a long day of dance practice, Jisung would make sure to stop by to drop off a snack and drink as well, often receiving complaints from Minho over his blatant favoritism, accusing him of neglecting his best friend, which would cause Jisung to grow red from embarrassment. Despite his relentless teasing, Minho was more than proud to see how much Jisung had grown and how naturally caring for you had come to him. It was a side of Jisung no one had ever seen, and it was a very much welcomed change.

Today, you were sitting on the couch at Jisung’s apartment as he washed the dishes from the dinner you both had attempted to make, humming along as he put them in the drying rack. For some reason, you and Jisung had thought it would be a great idea to recreate a steak dish you both saw online and while it did not go terribly, the steaks ended up being a little too burnt for either of your liking. You were a bit disappointed, part of you feeling embarrassed you couldn’t even cook a proper meal in front of your crush, but he had lifted your spirits up by telling you it was an ‘excellent culinary choice’ to serve the steaks charred, shushing you each time you said the word burnt.

Soon after, he took a seat next to you on the couch, flicking through the TV as he tried to find something to watch, but soon gave up as he turned to you, “Is there anything you wanna watch?”

You scrunch up your face as you take a few seconds to think, clapping your hands excitedly once the idea hits you, “Have you ever watched Love is Blind? It’s kinda a dumb reality show, but I still haven’t seen the new season and it’s always a fun watch!”

Jisung furrowed his eyebrows quizzically, tilting his head to the side like a confused puppy, “Love is Blind? I’ve never heard of it, what's it about?”

“Never heard of it!? No way!” You gasped, a hand clasping over your mouth dramatically as he smiled adoringly at your antics, “It’s such a crazy show! Basically, a bunch of singles are trying to find the love of their lives, but they’re meeting people without ever seeing what they look like!”

“Oh, so they only get to talk to each other?”

“Yeah! And then they have to get engaged, and once that happens, they can finally meet face to face. They’re supposed to get married at the end of the series, but there’s always juicy drama going on before then!”

Jisung hummed, taking interest in the show's concept, “That’s cool, so they’re trying to see if love is truly blind?”

“Exactly!” You chirped, nodding with enthusiasm as you beamed at Jisung, waiting for his response.

“Sure, let’s watch it!” How could he ever say no to you when you’re smiling at him that way? He swore he felt his heart flutter the moment you smiled at him, the jubilation in your eyes making him become putty in your hands. “Do you really believe in that though? Like, unconditional love?”

You turned to him as you grabbed the remote from his hands, a bit taken aback from his question, “Well, I’ve already seen the other seasons and some couples have definitely proven that love can be blind, but love differs for everyone. I think that’s the beauty of this show though, loving someone despite their flaws and loving them for who they truly are.”

He leaned back on the couch, returning your gaze as he lost himself deep in thought, “Right, but do you think you could love someone unconditionally? Even if they’ve made mistakes in the past?”

You furrowed your eyebrows as you tried to understand where Jisung was coming from, a gentle smile gracing your features as you reached a comforting hand over his wrist, “Well, as long as those past mistakes aren’t murder or something, I don’t see why not. I’d like to think people are able to grow from their past.”

Jisung smiled as he sighed in relief, his other hand resting on top of yours, “Even me?”

“Especially you.”

┈ ✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✁✃✁✃✁✃✁✃✁ ┈

It was a quiet and cold night as you curled up into Jisung’s side, your head resting on his chest with a leg thrown over his as his arms swaddled you into a tight embrace. It was peaceful and serene, the only sounds filling the room was the light pitter patter of rain against his bedroom window and the comforting beat of his heart. You tilted your head upwards and caught Jisung’s gaze, a relaxed smile on his face as he leaned down to press a gentle kiss on your forehead, but you could’ve sworn you saw a glimmer of sadness in his eyes.

To be quite honest, you weren’t entirely sure what you and Jisung were, as neither of you had ever officially discussed labels, but you both were very aware of each other’s feelings for one another. There was no doubt that you both were more than just friends, but the label of partners or dating was something Jisung nervously tiptoed around.

After a few weeks of these shared tender moments, you figured Jisung would soon ask you to be his, but the question never came and it filled you with nervousness. You didn’t want to pressure him, as you could sympathize with his concerns since he was very transparent with you about his hesitance from the very start.

Jisung was irrevocably in love with you and wanted nothing more than to make you his partner, but he would be lying to you if he wasn’t also terrified of the weight of that label. For so long, Jisung had convinced himself he was incapable of loving someone the way they deserved to be and never thought anyone would have ever fallen for him, especially someone as perfect as you. Perhaps it was your sheer kindness and undying belief in him, but he felt like a complete fraud, as if you had imagined him to be this amazing man that he could never be and has never been. He wasn’t ready to fall short of your expectations, he wasn’t ready to face the disappointed and heartbroken look on your face once you realized the rumors about him were complete truth.

He felt as if he was truly undeserving of someone as pure as you, someone so selfless and caring who approached their own feelings with so much confidence, while he was just a shamefully selfish man who didn’t know how to trust himself, who didn’t believe in his own ability to make his own partner happy, a man who was painfully insecure and unsure of who he was.

He wanted you with every fiber of his being and desperately wanted to be the very reason behind your smiles, laughter, and happiness. He so greedily desired to see his own reflection in your eyes for the rest of his life, a sight that he wanted to treasure for the rest of life and the thought of you looking at someone else that way physically pained him.

Yet, his fear of hurting you and disappointing everyone else around him held him back from chasing those feelings and Seungmin’s words from months ago ruminated in his mind as a constant reminder of his past failures. He would not be able to shoulder the burden of hurting you, the guilt would completely eat him up because at the end of the day, it would be his fault for fooling you into the idea that he was capable of giving you that movie perfect love story. For crying out loud, he’s Han Jisung, the guy everyone hated and criticized for his ineptitude of romantic relations. He knew what you wanted, he knew you were growing impatient and scared over his inaction, but his anxieties held him captive in a standstill, and he was not strong enough to challenge it.

All he could tell you was that he needed more time, that he was afraid and needed the chance to grow that confidence in himself once more, but he knew time was finite and he was running out of it.

As he kissed your forehead, he felt his heart flinch as a pang of sadness flooded his body, forcefully fighting the overwhelming adoration and affection he had for you. He was petrified at the way his body slowly began to reject the feelings of love he had for you, fear and insecurities consuming it as if everything you had to offer nothing. All rational thinking had left him in that moment as panic took over his thoughts, angrily yelling at him for being such an idiot to think anything would ever change. How stupid he was to lead on another innocent person and how he was only going to hurt them, just like all the others before him. How idiotic he was for thinking he was ever deserving of love, as love does not wish to know him.

He just couldn’t be your love.

God, if he wasn’t such a selfish asshole, maybe then he could’ve saved you from his own carelessness. If he had only heeded the warnings of his friends, but once again, he has fallen into the trap of self-centered needs outweighing the feelings of others. If he had only stayed your friend and nothing more, if he had only not-

“Y/N, I don’t think this is going to work.”

Did he really say that out loud? He held his breath as he cursed himself for acting so quickly out of fear, his heart stopped as he watched you stiffen in his own arm. You silently sat yourself up, his arms falling to the mattress as you turned to him with tears filling your eyes, your lips trembling as you tried to contain a sob.

Oh, how Jisung just wished the world would swallow him whole in that moment, his heart completely shattering at the sight of your crestfallen face. He looked into your watery eyes to only realize that this time, the reflection of your eyes showed the source of your sorrow, an expression he had wished he never had the misfortune to witness.

“I… I’m sorry, I just-”

You shook your head, raising a hand to signal him to stop talking, refusing to take an explanation from him, “It’s okay. I was afraid this would happen.”

You forced a tightlipped smile, taking a deep breath through your nose as you tried to keep yourself together, faintly whispering a broken “Please don’t text or call me.”

Jisung shot up as he watched you get up from his bed, trying to scramble after you as you made your way to his front door, grabbing your belongings on the way. He didn’t realize how much he was already crying until he tried to speak to you, but it all came out in a blubbering sob. “Y/N, please, listen to me…” He begged you to listen to him, pleaded for you to try to understand where this was all coming from and to understand that he still loved you so much despite how selfish his actions are, yet you never gave him a chance.

“Jisung, please. I don’t care why, I don’t want to know,” you croaked between sobs, doing your best to maintain your composure as you faced the front door, refusing to look at him. “I just feel like an idiot. I should’ve listened to what people said about you.”

There you went, leaving his apartment and shutting the door in his face with force, leaving Jisung to confront nothing, but his own cowardice.

Once again, Jisung fell into the trap of his own self-centered thinking, getting lost in his own immaturity as he became the victim of the circumstances he created. If he had only realized that he wasn't alone in this battle of his own conscience, if he had only realized you would've fought each insecurity and fear with him.

Oh, woe is me, Han Jisung. Only a fool would be afraid of love.

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