#hate moving my body but it does help clearing out your mind for at least a few hours bc you are busy sweating

[mossyivy]

An answered prayer || K. Wagner x Fem!Mutant!Reader

Content Warning: Christmas stuff, fluff and a sprinkle of jealous Kurt

Words: 1.2k

Authors Note: This is an anon request, I believe? Might have Lost a name on accident, oopsies... Enjoy <3 And Happy Holidays!!!

Christmas, what a wonderful time of year. The fire's lit, holiday music playing as the rest of the team enjoys the annual party and secret Santa exchange. Holding his own gift from his dear sister in his lap. Trying to focus on anything but the sight he's transfixed on.

He's supposed to be blue, feeling the sharp green of envy pulling at the edges of his being as he stares down their leader. Grinning wide as he hands over your gift. Watching you rip away at the shiny silver wrapping paper across the common room, hearing you loudly gasp.

Probably something practical and thoughtful... Typical Scott.

And now you're gushing over some stupid cable-knit sweater as you put it to your front. Pulling Scott into a tight embrace as he, albeit awkwardly, hugs you back with a tight smile. Kurt can feel his brows pin together, tail flicking against his own calves in irritation. He knows he has no real right to be jealous. You're not his. Not officially, at least.

You're aware of each other's feelings and have been on a few dates even. But with his duties to the council in Genosha, he hardly gets to see you unless it's fairly important or the occasional time off. Which, obviously, he hates, holding a candle for you for the longest time now.

Kurt sighs, turning his attention back to the fire, arms crossed over his chest as he takes in the dancing flames in the fireplace as everyone buzzes around him. The sound of the party makes it hard to think of anything but your smile crossing his mind.

Sighing, he stands from the couch, heading outside into the cold. Standing out on the back step of the mansion. Looking across the beautiful blanket of fresh white snow just fallen earlier that morning. The inky night sky filled with stars for once over the trees.

That feeling of jealousy still not leaving him. Heart beating against his chest as he takes a deep breath. Closing his eyes as his hands pressed together, a huff of cloudy air escaping him as he softly prayed to himself.

"Heavenly Father, give me the strength to resist the temptation of jealousy. Help me to trust in Your plan and to find contentment in Your provision... She knows not what she does to me, and I know a devil like me isn't supposed to ask for anything... But all I want is her... Bless my friends, bless my dear family, and please, Lord, bless mein Schatz. Amen."

The door creaks open behind him, yellow eyes cutting through the darkness as he looks back to see you standing at the door, arm behind your back with that sweet smile he's come to love.

"Am I interrupting something?" You ask softly, a half smile coming to his lips as he shakes his head, waving you to come outside.

Coming out, you close the door gently, stepping over to him with a quiet kind of grace. Silence filling the air as you both look out into the night sky. So close together, you can feel Kurt's body heat from just being next to him.

It's now or never...

Clearing your throat, you meet his eyes, moving your arm from behind your back. A cute little bag with two kids building a snowman together hanging off your fingers. Blue, sparkling tissue paper billowing from the top with a tiny tag hanging from the handle.

"Merry Christmas..." He looks a little dumbfounded, looking down at the bag before taking it in his palms.

"My sister, she... gave me a gift already?" You chuckle with a nod.

"I know, I got Remy for the Secret Santa. Gave him this really nice deck of cards I found when we had a mission overseas a few weeks ago, but I wanted to give you something too... Special people deserve special gifts." He thanked God in that moment; it was dark out, and you'd see his entire face turn purple as he blushed.

"I... didn't get you anything." You just shrug, not honestly caring about it in the long run.

"My gift can be the look on your face when you open yours. Come on." You nudge the side of the bag, making him look it over. Taking note of how you crossed out "from" on the attached card and wrote "love" instead. Making his stomach do an involuntary flip. Moving the tissue paper away, he pulls out a flat square box, glancing up at you with a small scoff.

"This isn't going to be dozens of tiny boxes, is it?" You tap his shoulder with a roll of your eyes.

"Just open it!" He smiles, pulling the lid away. Face falling as the dim light catches the shiny silver circle pendant. A piece of ivory in the middle with their initials engraved together. He feels his chest tighten, looking up into your eyes in shock.

"I thought it would look good next to your rosary... And you always talk about how we don't get enough time together... Now I can be with you all the time in some way." His eyes fall back to the box, quickly pulling out the necklace and inspecting it closer.

"This... This is beautiful. And so thoughtful..."

"Well, it's just something I thought you needed... Plus, I... I've been wanting to talk to you about something." His eyes shoot back up to you. Looking into your eyes with a hint of disbelief.

"About what?"

"Us." His eyes widen, mouth opening like a fish as you close the gap, pressing your hand to his cheek with an affectionate stroke of your thumb.

"You mean so much to me, Kurt, and it's been killing me to not... Be with you. I miss you constantly and can't stop thinking about you all the time." His free hand drifts over yours on his cheek with a content sigh.

"I can't stop thinking about you either... I don't want you to think that it's necessary for us to be together if we're—" You silence him, kissing him with a tender touch he's never felt before. His head tilts, pressing into you, hand traveling to snake his arm around your waist. Pulling you even closer to his warm frame with a fondness he could only hold for you.

Lips separate, the shared warmth between you almost suffocating to a degree.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted to hear you say that, mein Schatz... Merry Christmas." Leaning back in, your lips connect briefly before there's a bang at the door, making you both nearly jump out of your skin.

It's Gambit at the door with a grin on his face, Rogue behind him with a soft giggle as she covers her mouth with a gloved hand. Quickly you turn away from their prying eyes, feeling your face heat up as the thick Cajun drawl pours through the glass.

"Dinner's on the table, lovebirds! Time's ticking' before Cyclops has that aneurysm if you two don't move." He laughs before walking back towards the dining room, arm around Rogue as they disappear. You sigh, rubbing your cheeks to make the heat go away, Kurt only smiling wider as he slips his present box back in the bag. Holding up the necklace, he gives it one last look before turning your face back to look at his.

"Could you help me put this on so I can show my gift to everyone, mein Schatz?"

All content on this page is fictional and I do not condone the acts I enjoy in a fictional sense. I don't consent to my work being reposted or translated.

[fadeintolight]

Hi there - I just wanted to pop in and see how you’re holding up. I hope the days have been landing gently for you. — June

💕 it’s been hard, though every day feels 2% lighter. his passing really hit me and, selfishly, it made me reflect on my own struggles and the loneliness that sometimes comes with them. nothing like what he went through, but it’s tough not having anyone close by to share this kind of sadness with. i’m trying to take this as a reminder to reach out more and work on building new connections.

i’m endlessly grateful to be part of this fandom, where kindhearted people like you reach out, and we’re all here together in this. i feel so lucky to have amazing friends and mutuals online that i can lean on. i hope you’re doing okay too, June. sending you lots of hugs!💕

[imfinereallyy]

“Dad is going to be very angry,” El says with wide eyes taking in the scene before them.

“You think Hop will kill him?” Steve says as he leans against the doorway, eating a Twizzler.

El looks at Steve momentarily, sticking her hand out for some candy. Steve hands her one without hesitation. El rips a piece off before speaking. “Oh yes. He might ask you to help hide the body.”

Steve nods solemnly, “I’ll do what needs to be done. Mikes’s my least favorite child anyway.”

“Hey!” Mike yells, gaining the duo's attention. It brings them back to the scene they walked in on. Mike and Will, with the door closed (no three inches in sight) on top of each other, making out.

Steve doesn't think he’ll ever get that image out of his brain.

“Chill, Wheeler, I'm joking,” Steve says pointedly before turning to El and mouthing no, I'm not.

El giggles, and Steve can't help but feel like he won a prize at the sound.

“I'm sorry, El.” Will blushes with shame, like he is betraying his sister somehow.

El just shrugs, “I do not care. But Dad might. He hates Mike.”

Steve snorts, “That's the understatement of the century. I don't think Hop has ever hated someone’s partner like he has Mike. Honestly, I was surprised he liked Eddie. I mean like is a strong word. But he tolerates him.”

Will pipes up, “I think he does mostly because he knows you'll move out, and he only just got you to agree to stay here.”

Steve shrugs, “I’ll take what I can get. At least he doesn't walk on me having sex.”

“We weren't having sex!” Mike practically screams. Hands up exasperated. “And don't talk about you and Eddie; it's gross.”

Will blushes deeply with head in his hands, “Oh, God.” El pats him on the shoulder in sympathy.

“Also, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't an idiot and just knocked!” Mike stomps. Jesus, this kid is 15 acting 6.

“I was the one who walked in, Mike. I wanted to know if Will wanted to watch a movie.” El says coldly, getting defensive of her brother.

Mike clams up, Steve can't help but feel smug.

“Who’s having sex?!?” A distinct Hopper-like voice echoes through the house.

Will and Mike share a panicked look while Steve and El take more Twizzlers from the bag.

“Oh no. Mike! What are we going to do?”

Mike sputters, “He doesn't have to know it was us! And we weren't having sex!”

Will looks at him like Mike is the biggest moron he's ever met. Steve loves the kid (despite early protest) but has to agree. “Oh gee Mike, I wonder who he will think it was about. Steve? Who is dating a man who isn't here and keep in mind, it's Steve. Who is our brother, and five years older than us? And in a relationship? And let's not forget..is Steve?!”

“This is fair.” Steve agrees. If anyone but Baby Byers had attempted to say that, Steve would have been pissed. But it's Will, so it's coming from a good place.

“Also! Also! The other person here is El! Who is my sister! Not to mention your ex—”

“—well it could have been—”

“Micheal Steven Wheeler, if the next words out of your mouth are it could have been you and El, I will never be kissing you again.” Will uses a deathly tone. Steve isn't convinced he didn't get from El.

“Your middle name is Steven?” Steve fills giddy.

“Shut up Steve!”

Will pinches his brows, “And you idiot, if it were you and El, you would still he toast.”

Steve whistles, “Shit, Will. Next time I need to win an argument against Eddie. I'm coming to you.”

“How long does it take for dad to get upstairs?” El interrupts.

All of them look down the hall. “Huh, maybe we are in the clear,” Mike whispers.

“I said who is having sex?!?” Hopper comes thundering up the stairs.

“I think this is what Max calls a jinx.” El looks at Mike unphased.

Steve can't help but feel a little bad for Will. He looks panicked around the room, probably looking for a hiding place. Steve knows that it isn't that same fear Will once had of Lenny, Hop wouldn't hurt them ever, but he can't help but feel a little protective of him. Steve knows all too well how the fears of biological fathers can sneak up on you, even if you know you're safe. “Don’t worry, Will. I'll make sure Hop takes it easy.”

Will relaxes, “Thanks Steve.”

“What about me?” Mike asks, eyes wide.

El shares a look with Steve. Spending as much time as they have lately has allowed them to talk without speaking most of the time. It freaks everyone but Robin out (she gets it). Seconds go by before they both nod in agreement.

Steve and El both wip their heads towards Mike, and Steve says, “You were grossed out by my relationship and called me stupid. Suffer.”

Mike's outcry is in synch with Hop breaking through screaming, “There better be three inches!”

[21slurp-blog]

cuts and kisses

ellie Williams x female reader

description - you get hurt on patrol and ellie is not happy.

Tw’s - swearing, brief mention of blood from a shoulder wound, ellies a teensy bit mean, fingering (r!receiving), eating out (r!receiving), smut, fluff, pet names (angel, baby), I think that’s it let me know if I missed any.

a\n - this is my first fic so it’s trash pls don’t hate me 🧎🏼‍♀️

“what the fuck was that?” ellie says harshly as she charges through the doors to your hospital room. You had been on patrol with Dina, an easy route nothing overly complicated. However there had been a group of bandits hiding in the dense forrest. They caught you by surprise to say the least. Dina managed to fight most of them off leaving you with two men. You shot down the first one and aimed your pistol at the second and pulled the trigger. Empty. You scrambled to try and find something, anything to defend yourself but it was too late. The man plunged a blade into your shoulder. The dark red sticky liquid oozed from your arm and trickled down your body. Dinas eyes widened as she ran over to you and that’s the last you remembered.

your eyes fall to the ground and your lips stay closed as ellie stares at you with furrowed brows and a frown. “Hm? You wanna tell me why the fuck you almost died out there?” she says growing angrier. Tears nip at your eyes as Ellie’s harsh words cut deep. “please stop yelling” you say weakly, a small tremble in your voice. “I’m not yelling. I fucking- you don’t know how lucky you are Dina brought you back in time you know that?” ellie says looking right at you with those disappointed green eyes of hers. “M’sorry” you say softly as the tears finally break and cascade down your pink cheeks. Ellie’s gaze softens and she moves closer to you. “Fuck- no I’m sorry. I just- I can’t lose you, I can’t.” She admits, wrapping her arms around you gently. You sob quietly into her arms, melting into her touch.

“I know. I’m sorry baby, I’m sorry” she coos at you, holding you so gently as though you’ll break. The rest of that night is spent with ellie holding you and her telling the cheesiest dad jokes in attempt to make you smile. It worked of course, it always does.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶ ༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

The next day or two fly by with ellie taking care of you. The doctors give you the all clear and ellie insists on carrying you home even though you insisted you could walk. She plants you down on your shared bed and helps you undress. You catch her plump lips in a kiss that goes on a second longer than it should. The kiss grows needier and ellie pulls away drawing a groan and a pout from you. “why’d you stop Els” you whine, your eyes scanning Ellie’s body hungrily. “your still recovering angel. don’t wanna hurt you” she says her eyes flickering between yours lips and tits. “you won’t hurt me Els. please.” Ellie looks over your topless frame once more before mumbling something that sounds like fuck it before taking your lips in hungrily. She gently lays you down and kisses down your neck, nipping and sucking, proudly leaving cherry red marks that will be violet purple by the morning.

She slowly pulls down the loose pyjamas you were wearing, exposing your white cotton panties decorated with a wet patch of your arousal. “fuck” she mumbles as she leans down, eye level with your cunt and slips her long digits into the waistband of your panties and slides them off. She proudly shoves them in the back pocket of her denim jeans. “anything hurts or you change your mind you tell me to stop, yeah?” she says softly looking into your eyes with the most caring expression you’ve ever seen. You hide feverishly and she wastes no time diving her tongue into your cunt like a starved women. The pink muscle drawing circles over your clit while her finger plunged inside you, curling upwards. Your mouth hangs open as soft gentle moans escape your lips. Your brain is empty, the only words leaving your mouth are ellie, ellie, ellie.

She basks in your pleasure, smiling as her tongue greedily laps at your clit. Your knuckles turn white as you grip the sheets, dangerously close to your release. “M’gonna cum-“ you mewl, doe eyes fluttering as you approach your climax. “Cum for me angel”. Ellie’s words are all you needed, as your orgasm washes over you, cumming all over Ellie’s fingers and mouth. “Atta girl” she coos as he lips detach from your cunt and her fingers pull out, leaving you empty. She pops her fingers in her mouth, savering your taste before kissing you gently. “did so well for me baby” she kisses your forehead before leaving quickly to grab a wet cloth. You hiss at the friction as she cleans you up, pulling fresh panties on for you and pulling you close to her chest. She misses you softly once more before you both fall asleep in each others arms.

“I love you” she mumbles half asleep.

“I love you too” you reply, nuzzling impossibly closer to her.

[l1v1ngd3dgrrl]

Returning the Favor [DaisukexReader]

an: This is a continuation of Talkin' in your sleep. Takes place a week after that. Minimal plot (if any) this time, Daisuke might be a little ooc this time, feeling a bit feral today. Not beta read at all

Word count: 1077

mdni divider by cafekitsune

CW(S): oral sex (f receiving), vaginal sex, spit as lube(kind of), kind of a quickie?

You really don't know how you got yourself into this situation. It all started innocently enough, You had to take something to Daisuke in the utility room. You couldn't even remember what it was. Some where in between the delivery and Daisuke showing off the most recent thing Swansea was making him do with the circuit board led you to this moment.

Next thing you knew Daisuke was peppering kisses along your neck. Thankfully Swansea was on his lunchbreak so you didn't have to worry about him coming back for at least 30 minutes or so. It was just the two of you in the room alone.

“I don’t mind this but just like last time we gotta be quiet.” You remind him between giggles. “I don’t want anyone catching us.”

He hums and presses more kisses to your neck, “I dunno why you’re telling me when you’re the one who really has to focus on being quiet.”

You scoff “whats that supposed to mean?”

Daisuke sucks harshly at your neck and draws a gasp from you.

“I mean I’m returning the favor from last time. You took care of me so it’s my turn to pay up.”

The change in his demeanor has your stomach doing flips. This side of him is one you wanna see more often.

He clears off the desk, setting aside his project and taps the top motioning you to sit down.

Once you're seated on the desk he resumes his kisses, rubbing his hands down your sides. You slide your hands across his chest and tangle one in his hair giving it a slight tug. He sucks your neck in a few spots, pink splotches slowly blossoming in his wake.

He pulls away and caresses your face in his palms. "You don't mind if I like, go down on you right?"

"I'd be a little sad if you didn't." you grin.

He snorts and presses a couple chaste kisses to your lips before making work of the buttons on your jumpsuit. You help him shimmy it down enough to where it's pooling at your ankles.

He takes a moment to take in your semi-clothed frame with a grin, sliding his hands up your thighs. He pays extra attention to your inner thighs closer to your core. His fingers ghost the edge of your underwear. The cold metal of his rings sending pleasant chills up your spine.

You watch him expectantly, body practically vibrating with anticipation. He hooks his fingers in the waistband of them and pulls them down sinking to his knees as he does so. You hold your breath and spread your legs more to give him access.

With minimal hesitation he moves forward, warm breath fanning over your center. He licks a stripe up your pussy, testing the water to see your reaction.

You release the breath you were holding and let out a soft moan. That's his go ahead, he makes quick work and maneuvers his tongue skillfully

Daisuke's eyes meet yours, chocolate brown eyes gazing up at you lovingly. You bite your lip as he continues and snake a hand into his hair.

Your knowledge of Daisuke's sexual past was unknown, but with how well he was doing he must have had at least a girlfriend or two. That or he had a pretty interesting search history.

Quiet gasps and words of encouragement fall from your lips, which seems to spur him on further. His face is no doubt a mess with a mixture of your slick and his saliva.

After a particularly harsh suck on your clit you let out a moan louder than you meant to and tug on his hair. He pulls back and stands up. "I hate to stop there but I really really wanna be inside you right now." he admits.

In wordless agreement you began to pull up your shirt exposing your midriff. He fumbles with his belt buckle, hands shaking with excitement. Once there are no restrictions in the way he pulls down his boxers enough to let his erection free.

"Let me know if it's t'much." he whispers after planting a kiss on your forehead. His cock lines up and slowly pushes in. The mixture of his saliva and your slick serve as a makeshift lube, not ideal but it'll do.

He gives you time to adjust, inching in slowly. Once he's fully bottomed out he stills. His eyes close and his brows knit together, breath coming out in small huffs. As per usual he looks picture perfect.

You're in a similar state he is, your arms drape themselves across his shoulders. The stretch wasn't terrible but it was something you had to adjust to.

"Ok-ok You can move now." You say.

He nods and begins to thrust at a slow but steady pace.

Both of you are huffing quietly, gazing at each other as if you two were the only things to exist. He presses kisses to your lips and he begins to pick up the pace, the desk starting to creak quietly.

"Oh god you feel so good." he murmurs. You move one of your hands to your mouth, moaning quietly into the palm of your hand.

You try and meet his thrusts the best you can. Daisuke's hands plant themselves firmly on the desk as he speeds up. Creaks and moans from the both of you fill the room.

"I'm almost there." you whine.

Daisuke laughs which fades into a whine of his own. His thrusts get harsher causing you to grasp tightly onto his shirt.

With a few more harsh thrusts of his you squeal as you hit your climax, eyes tightening shut.

Daisuke soon follows, pulling out and finishing with his hand. He comes with a choked groan and a couple of spurts of cum land on your exposed stomach.

Both of you sit in silence, panting to catch your breath. He reaches behind you and grabs a few paper towels. "How do you feel?" he asks as he begins to clean the two of you up.

"Amazing!" you say cheerfully.

After you're all cleaned up you both get dressed, trying to make yourselves look as inconspicuous as possible. Swansea would be back any minute now.

"You should probably head back, I don't want either of us to get in trouble."

"Yeah-I'll see you later!"

You made your way out of the utility room with wobbly legs feeling content.

Bless that ray of sunshine.

[heeliopheelia]

"i've missed you" (heeseung x reader)

genre: light angst, fluff word count: 1.3k requested by @probably-too-obssessed ♡

warnings: mentions of a break up, exes to lovers, crying

a/n: was the plan in my head perfect: yes. do i like the execution:... okay, ik this ain't technically a drabble but bear with me!! but anyways, we're officialy more than half done with the 1k event yayy!!

masterlist

Wiping the sleep out of your eyes, you make your way past the living room to answer the door. Knowing that only the closest people to you know the code to your apartment block's stairway, you can't help but worry as you approach the knocking on your door at such early hour. Has something happened? Did someone get hu-?

Suddenly more awake than a second before, you gape at ex-boyfriend in shock. Wide eyes scan his face, his brows slightly furrowed as he chews on his bottom lip, fingers twitching by his thighs. And you can't help but notice that he looks... the same. Yes, a little more mature now compared to the few years ago, features more defined than before but that's still most definitely Heeseung. Your Heeseung.

"What are you doing here?" You ask quietly, feet rooted into the floor as cold winter air sweeps from the stairway and engulfs your thinly-clothed body. You try to pretend that this sudden coolness is the cause of the shiver that runs down your spine but at the same time you know well that it's all because of Heeseung's relentless eyes placed on you.

"Hi," he breathes out and feels his heart coming up to his throat. Fuck, you're even prettier than he remembered. He clears his throat. "Can I come in?"

Somehow you muster the courage to nod your head and move back to open the door wider for him. As he sets his foot in your apartment, an instant wave of nostalgia and longing fills his heart to the brim and for the first time in three years Heeseung doesn't feel this void that's been constantly eating him from the inside. And it's all after spending only a minute with you again.

"I've missed you," he blurts out without wasting any more time, watching as your shoulders visibly tense. He takes a step closer and then one more, moving to stand right in front of you. "I'm sorry it took me so long to say it."

Pressing your lips together, you hide the trembling of your fingers by clenching them on the fabric of the shirt you've been sleeping in. His shirt which only now you seem to realize to be wearing and so does Heeseung as his eyes soften. And it makes him hope that maybe you too, after all this time, still keep a place in your heart for him.

Your heart pounds in your chest.

"You–," you stutter out, head full of running thoughts. Why is he here now? What's caused him to go against his manager and contract and show up at your door at 5 am? "Heeseung, where is this all coming from?"

"Ever since the night I broke up with you, there hasn't been a day without you on my mind." You can clearly see the distress and pain marring his soft features. "I'm sorry I fucked up, I never should've ended things with you back then."

And yes, you've missed him too. Yes, you've thought about him way too much for someone who's supposed to be over the relationship for at least two years now. But it's Heeseung after all. How does one simply move on from him?

But you keep a brave face and decide to be the more reasonable one out the two of you for once in your entire life. "There's nothing to apologize for, don't be ridiculous"

He scoffs, running his hand through his thick hair from frustration. "I was selfish. I dropped you for fame–"

"You left me for your dreams, Heeseung," you interrupt him with a scolding look. "And you did the right thing. I'd never want to be the one holding you back. Stop being so self-critical."

His eyes soften and he breathes out, all the tension leaving his body. "You could never hold me back, YN. I hate that only now I realized that you were the only thing that's kept me grounded. I'm no one without you."

Your heart stutters when his hands reach out and envelop your slightly trembling ones. "I don't know, Hee. There's just... There's so much happening right now, I can't think straight."

"I still love you." His words knock all the air out of your lungs and you swear you're falling. "After all this time, there's never been anyone else but you, love. I'd drop everything in an instant if you asked me to give my all to you right now. Everything loses its value when you're not there with me, I've learnt it the hard way."

"I–"

Your quiet stumbling gets cut off by his hands suddenly loosing their grip on yours. You watch as realization tinted with fear slowly creeps up on his beautiful face. All of sudden, Heeseung feels all of his muscles tensing as his heart drops down his chest, heavy and aching.

Already dreading your answer, he asks. "Do you... Do you have someone?"

"N-No!" You stutter out quickly, hands suddenly gaining a mind of their own as they desperately clutch on his again, heart wrenching as you already miss his touch even though he hasn't even fully pulled away. "I couldn't. Not after you."

"Then give us another try," he breathes out, chest feeling almost fifty pounds lighter at your quiet confession. His fingers quickly intertwine with yours as he pulls you closer with one tug. Your heart stalls when he leans down and starts kissing away the tears that you haven't even noticed started dropping down your cheeks. "All I want is you, YN. And there will never be anyone but you for me."

His lips trail down your cheeks, peppering kisses all over your jawline and chin and before you can even blink, your mouths are moving together in despair. The kiss is soaked and dripping with longing and love as you both pour all of the emotions from deep within into it. Even when your lips start to slightly burn from the saltiness of your tears and Heeseung's harsh sucks, you never even think of pulling away just for a second. It's only your muffled sob that makes the two of you part.

"I missed you so much," you cry out, trembling hand coming up to cover the bottom of your wet face. It doesn't take long for him to gently pull it away and bring it closer to him, pressing his warm lips to your knuckles. You sniffle, only to feel more tears following down your cheeks. "I've watched your every single performance, you know?" You chuckle shortly trough the sobs. The smile you sent him is wobbly and teary but so full of love it makes Heeseung feel the happiest he's been for the past couple years. "I'm so proud of you."

Your words impact him harder than he would ever admit, so before you can get the glimpse of his own eyes becoming glistening, he pulls you by your face and kisses you again, swallowing each one of your sobs and whimpers. Your hands tightly cling onto his hoodie as you find yourself becoming putty underneath his touch again. His slim fingers brush away the hair that got stuck onto your teary face, his caresses so gentle you can't help but feel your legs buckling slightly, so taking two steps backwards, you pull him on the couch along with you.

"I love you too," you whisper somewhere in between your ceasing cries and his kisses.

At that, Heeseung pulls himself up on his elbows to take in your pretty face. The face that he couldn't erase from his mind for all these years. The face that kept him awake every night until he passed out from exhaustion. The face that he loves more than anything else in this world.

And damn him if he ever found anything else that brought him as close to heaven as the sight of your swollen lips parted with a smile, blush spread over your cheeks as your eyes fill up with sparkles, looking at him as if he's collected all the stars from the sky and gave them to you. And fuck, if you really ever asked him to give you the entire moon itself, he knows that he would somehow find a way to make it happen. Because he would do absolutely anything and everything to make you happy. Even if it meant giving up his entire career – he will not make the same mistake twice and lose you again, now knowing that nothing is worth of the pain that being without you has put him through.

permanent taglist: @bambisgirl @arizejkt19 @luvmura @milisabunny @cathy-1997 @satoruskitchenrag @ramenoil @jenjnk @jaylaxies @yoongspi

[wishingyouback]

Clear Your Mind, H. Jisung.

synopsis: you're in a slump, and your boyfriend is there to help ease your mind even if you think takeout and movies aren't the perfect solution to a complete dead-end of ideas.

pairing: boyfriend!han jisung & reader

warning(s): none

You don’t know how it starts, but you do know how it ends.

“This is so cliche.” You hit the backspace button without a second thought, clearing the digital sheet of paper just to see a blank page all over again. A blank canvas to an artist, a field of imagination where your creativity holds no limits, to some. To you, all you see is your reflection when your laptop shuts down and mocks you of how irritable you find the situation to be.

You had one assignment.

All that you were required to do was to come up with an original story. An independent piece of your own with your own idea to present it, whether it be in the form of media, theater – your teacher was lenient when it came to the creativity of her students. You chose to stick to writing. It was easy, it was simple (no it isn’t). But the only reason you thought it was, was because writing always came natural to you.

It was like singing a song you memorized the words to or finding your favorite ice cream flavor and consistently sticking to it. Writing was a getaway for you. A gift, and a privilege that you cherished.

Which is why when you can’t seem to move past six words, you grow frustrated. You had to find something – inspiration to spark an idea of some sort. Maybe even staring at the gardeners outside your flat would do something.

Before you can move from your desk to the window by your bed, there’s a knock to a beat only one person could think of, and without you realizing it, your tense muscles relax at the thought of him alone.

“Hi,” you breathe out. Jisung doesn’t get to say anything when you slump your body onto him, relaxing your body weight for him to carry, which he does effortlessly. Your breathing slows to a normal pace and when Jisung remembers your text from earlier, he sets his things down carefully to hold you tighter.

‘Hey you,” he almost whispers into your ear when you hide your face in his neck. While Jisung is a naturally sensitive person, he doesn’t flinch when he feels your hair on the nape of his neck. He finds comfort in the way you can come to him for anything, good or bad, he likes being your person.

“I hate today.” You mutter into his shirt when you pull away, earning a laugh out of your boyfriend, “I’m serious. I couldn’t get more than twelve words out of my head and when I managed to write something, I scrapped it.”

“Why’d you do that?” Jisung frowns, thinking that even if a draft wouldn’t be up to expectation, it would be a way to get ideas too.

“Stop, I know what you’re thinking,” The both of you work in a clear rhythm, letting him set the food that he ordered down on the table first so the both of you can dig into it together. “I should’ve at least saved one draft regardless, right?”

When you look up from your unpacked takeaway, you see Jisung giving you a soft smile, a knowing look, then a nod.

“I didn’t think any of my drafts were good enough. At least on the level I want it to be.” You confide solemnly to Jisung. Though the both of you studied different fields, to a certain level, the advantage of Jisung being under the music department was that there were parallels to certain parts of your degree with his.

The one parallel you both have in common right now is that you needed inspiration, and Jisung knew how to deal with that. How to deal with slumps and drainage of energy when all you need to be doing is writing, producing or working until the product you’ve worked so hard for is up to par. But Jisung has also learnt to not set such high expectations on himself when he’s working himself down to the bone on most days. Most days you have to be the one to pull him out, and that wasn’t healthy, he was aware but it’s improved these days.

This time it’s his turn to pamper you and he’ll gladly take the chance to boost your mood whilst simultaneously trying to give you more inspiration for your paper.

“C’mon, we’re watching a movie.” Jisung drags you to your living room, carefully guiding you to sit on your sofa before comically skipping to your shelf of DVDs you have. “Now, what’s your choice of movie tonight, m’lady?” Jisung fakes a British accent, one that creates a giggle from you.

“Ji,” You laugh as you cover your mouth. “What’re you doing?”

“What do you mean?” He refers to the shelves of discs behind him, knowing how you have them arranged by the color and the width of their covers. “I’m helping my girl get her groove back by helping her relax.” He smiles.

When all you do is shake your head with a growing smile on your face, Jisung can’t help mirror it.

“Whenever I’m burnt out I think about things outside of my work or whatever it is I need to do, and I think that might help you as well, babe.” He slips out two random discs from behind him before walking up to you to present the two choices he’s picked.

He takes a quick glance at the two titles, “Alright, looks like we might either be watching Hercules or The Terminator — which I did not know you had a disc of, by the way.” He laughs as he waits for you to say something.

“You’re unbelievably charming, you know that?” You can’t help but laugh one more time as you point to the Disney film in his left hand. “Hercules, please.”

“So I’ve been told,” He winks. “Hercules it is for the lovely lady.”

Once Jisung’s settled in next to you on the couch with his legs propped up on the letterman you have sitting across the sofa and your legs curled up so your knees are resting on his thigh, you can't help but steal a glance at your loving boyfriend. The man who stole your heart, who was currently doing his best to do whatever he could to lift the worry off your shoulders and to help you get back to your work with a clearer head and a fresh set of ideas.

When Jisung hits the play button after adjusting the volume, he pokes your cheek then turns to look at you.

“I can feel you staring baby, what’s up?” He curiously asks as his eyes scan your face.

You nearly melt at the use of petname, knowing that no matter how often you hear it, it'll always make you feel all tingly and loved by the man you call yours.

You shrug playfully and lean in closer to him.

“Just love when you're with me.” You confess, almost feeling the way Jisung smiles widely without having to look up at him.

The opening to the film is starting to play, and you're gradually feeling yourself slip into the world of the animation and remembering just how much you adore this film when you feel Jisung kiss the top of your head, an action that's common from him.

“I love being with you, ___." He whispers and soon, the both of you are eating the takeaway and enjoying your evening impromptu dinner-slash-movie date together.

author's note.

oh writing how i've missed you SO!

thank you thank you thank you to those that have been liking, reblogging and patiently waiting for something new to be released. this imagine is fairly short and i did have ideas to make it longer but i might make a part 2 and have it just be a mini series of things jisung does to help you boost inspiration, but! overall i hope if you've read this far that you enjoyed this imagine and that it was up to expectation <3

my writing might be a little rusty as it's been a while, i apologise if there are any grammar mistakes, i'll fix those asap!!

signing off with all my love, saturn ☆

[ghost-orca]

Channeling Your Love; Chapter 1

Mind you, this is video game Joel, everything that happens in this story means the pandemic started in 2013 so all the songs are "canon" until after September of 2013, IM SORRY PEDRO PASCAL FANS!!!

Description; You're a music radio show host for Jackson with a hidden past in the apocalypse. What more can I say?

Warnings: Future smut, for now its just meet cute fluff; PTSD for future chapters: it gets real dark guys, this is my first time writing Fanfic so bare with me....

“Alriiight Jackson, it's time to rise and shine! How about we start our day with some positive energy and a good old classic, Conga by Gloria Estefan!” The music playing loudly through the living room, Joel was immediately irritated. “Christ” he mumbled

“Ellie! Turn the radio off!”

“Why?” she yelled back 

“I hate this song, it's too damn loud.” He replied

“Then leave! I'm having fun!”

“Ellie, plea-” 

“Nope! Get grumpy somewhere else, old man.”

Joel sits for a minute, shaking his head “I have had enough of this” he decides, picking up his jacket making his way to the door.

“Where are you going? I was just joking when I said to leave and the song is almost over y’know!” Ellie yells out shaking her body along with the music

“I’m going to that damn radio station, gonna tell them how I feel about their early morning music choices and hopefully change their mind”

Ellie scoffed “good luck ruining everyone's fun dinosaur.” continuing to dance along to the music

Joel scoffed back at her and exited their shared home

After a five minute long uphill walk, Joel spots the radio station Tommy had told him about, stomping upwards to have a word with the radio show host. He knocked loudly on the front door before entering, trying to appear polite at least to have the upper hand, but after a minute of no answer he decided to let himself in, walking up a narrow staircase, following the sound of music, not caring what song was playing even if it was something he liked 

“You can ring my beeellllllll” Was heard reverberating through the walls walking up, finally entering the studio apartment that connected to the radio station room with a glass wall to suppress noise from the outside world. The first thing he sees is you, shaking your hips and ass along to the song, eyes closed never noticing him there. Looking at you he recognized seeing you around town, thinking you were surprisingly fit for someone who doesn't go on patrols, realizing why you were as he watched you. He couldn't help but focus his attention on your ass, the way your hips moved along with the rhythm. 

“Shit” he mumbled to himself, lost in thought looking at you as you swayed by yourself, like no one was watching. 

You open your eyes for a moment noticing the man standing in your studio apartment, immediately freezing in your tracks. “How long has he been standing there?” you thought to yourself, chest heaving, making unbroken eye contact with your stranger. Oh god, he's handsome too you thought, cheeks reddening. 

Joel sees you see him, witnessing you completely stop what you were doing, and gulps.

“Keep going.” He says, feeling rude for interrupting you, but mostly embarrassed, thinking you’d caught him in the act of leering

“W-what?” You respond, having trouble hearing through the glass panel separating the two of you and loud music, gesturing to the glass and record player so he could understand.

Joel understood, and got all the more embarrassed, huffing towards the ground to gain some courage 

“Keep dancing.” He says louder now, and does an awkward little shimmy before pointing to you to make his message more clear. His cheeks start growing red from further embarrassment. “The hell did I do that for?” he questioned himself quietly, rubbing the back of his neck.

You understand him, but the song was almost over at this point, and it's your cue to go back to the live recorder and continue onto the next song. You jolt over to the mic as the final note fades out “Well, ha, that was Ring My Bell from the one hit wonder, Anita Ward everybody! I hope you guys had fun with that one!” You say into the mic, hiding exasperation in your voice. “Up next is-” You look down at your handwritten list of songs scheduled for the day “Last Night by The Strokes!” you announce with fake excitement. You didn't hate the song, but you had just heard it too many times before. Still, it was important for the future to hear as much music as possible as you thought.

Joel is still watching you at this point, impressed by how quick you can turn your heel. You exit the room, into your own studio apartment, facing the man before you, straightening your back and raising your head to meet his hazel green eyes. “Can I help you with something sir?”

“Uh yeah, I um…” Joel felt completely lost, he came here to complain, take out his anger on you, maybe even teach you a thing or two about ‘the real world’, but all those thoughts he had racing up the hill to confront you had muddled after actually seeing you. He didn't know what to say.

“Ash?” you both hear from downstairs, you sighed in relief, recognizing the voice “What's up Eugene?” you yelled down, starting to feel wary of this strange quiet man in your presence. 

“Was just checking if you were okay, I saw the door was open so,” 

“That's my fault, sorry” Joel yelled down in admission, recognizing Eugene's voice as well, Tommy had introduced the two and grew to respect the old man on patrols with him. 

Hearing footsteps up the stairs Eugene enters the room, “Oh hey Joel, didn't know you were a fan of Ash’s station” 

“Um, no I'm not, I mean…” Joel pauses, trying to find the right words, “So your name is Ash?” he dodges the question retorting back to you 

“No” you respond bluntly “Only Eugene calls me that.”

Eugene looks between the two of you, feeling the uncomfortable energy in the air. 

“What do I call you then?” Joel asks, slight frustration he can't control in his voice, trying to stay civil.

“Call me whatever you want, host, radio person, I don't really care” You responded honestly, sensing his frustration, feeling like pushing his buttons. “Why are you here, Joel?” 

“Well” he starts “If I’m being honest, I find your music to be obnoxious.”

“It's not ‘my music’, Joel, it's just music, and if you don't like it you can just turn off the radio or cover your ears if your missus appreciates it more than you do.” You have a smug grin on your face, knowing you have the upper hand “Besides” You start  “No one else in Jackson has complained to my face about what I decide to play, the first exception being you.” You cross your arms. 

Before Joel can say anything, Eugene interrupts “Alright you two, how about I let you just sort this out amongst yourselves. Ash, if you need anything, just gimme a holler. Joel.” he looks at Joel giving him a respectful nod, getting out of there before he can get involved “Thanks Eugene, sorry to worry you.” You wave him goodbye as he books it downstairs out the front door waving back. You're left alone standing with your new ‘acquaintance’ feeling ready for whatever he might throw at you. Joel sighs. “Alright look, first of all I don’t gotta ‘missus’ like you call it, just a very annoying 14 year old who does whatever the hell she wants if it can’t be helped. So you can imagine the strain of dealing with that alone every morning, and then I have to hear the damn Conga song at 9 in the morning trying to enjoy my coffee in peace because it's the only point in the day I can get some time to myself. So forgive me if my much wanted peace and quiet interrupts whatever you have going on here.” You stare at Joel, appreciating his honesty 

“What's her name?” you ask. He looks at you in surprise for a second, breaking his avoidance towards you.

“Ellie, uh, her name’s Ellie” He responds

“Pretty” you say, fully taking her name in to get an image of her in your mind. “Why don’t you send her up here sometime so I can take her off your hands in the morning? I’ve been meaning to find a young apprentice who's passionate about helping me with the work I do around here. If she’s got a lot of energy I think this would be perfect for her.” 

Joel’s still holding eye contact as you see his eyes widening, taking in the idea. “You don-You don't have to do that really. I love the kid to death but- she can be a real handful honestly.” Joel’s embarrassed at this point, surprised at your compassion to help. 

“She sounds like a great kid” you confess, “I can promise you with the work I do she’ll be tuckered out by the time she comes home to you. Plus, with my schedule she’ll be too busy to bother you in the mornings, so you can start enjoying your coffee in peace.” 

Joel thinks on it, starting to consider the pros and cons of the idea. “I’ll have to ask her if she’d even want to first.” he replies, it would be nice if she had something productive to keep herself busy he thinks to himself.

“That’s alright, if she wants to she can just stop by whenever she likes. Today even, I’d be happy to start showing her the ropes, whenever she’s ready.” You smile at him, realizing you might’ve just solved the problem between you two, wanting to start things off civilly with this gruff but shy handsome man you were meeting for the first time. “Okay” He agrees, scratching his beard after making his decision. “Great!” You respond “Tell her she can stop by anytime after 9 am and before 9 pm. I’m excited to meet her!” 

Joel chuckles, “You don't even know if she’s gonna say yes to this whole thing. Don't get too excited.” he explains.

“Well, based on your description of her, and the fact that she’s 14, I’m guessing she’s feeling pretty bored without much to do around Jackson. Besides helping the community, I'm sure she’d be excited at the idea of a creative outlet.” You say in confidence, smile almost giddy remembering how you felt around the same age. “You got a point there.” he responds, smiling back, blushing at the thought of how cute you look when you're excited.“I’m uh, I’m glad we could talk this out. I’ll go and see her right now.” he starts making his way down the stairs to the doorway. 

“Hey Joel!” You speak out, stopping him in his tracks to look up at you, “Don’t be a stranger, stop by sometime to tell me what music I should play for your morning coffee. Or any music, really.” Joel starts to blush again, surprised by you reaching out to him for company. 

“I’ll think about it.” he says, knowing he will come back again just to see you dance again when he works up the courage. He waves you goodbye. “Nice meeting you!” You reply “Yeah, You too.” looking up at your pretty little face one more time before leaving. Making his way straight to Ellie to tell her the news.

[eccedentesian]

speaking of huey… final(?) elmer commission, this time by the incredible @brbarou who does my favorite interpretation of these characters && who i asked to capture a scene from the end of our first aforementioned one-shot.

i don’t think i ever explained in great detail what went down in that game, but this confrontation went a little something like this…

huey: (after elmer has completely disrupted his plans to alter the tide of the war by refusing to give a dangerously powerful weapon to king jovis, which likely would’ve destroyed him && a bunch of innocent people in the process… something huey only involved himself in for the powerful position it gave him… && after elmer’s meddling inadvertently resulted in the death of the king) well, elmer? is this what you wanted? are you happy?

elmer: you know very well that i’ve never been happy. but at least more people won’t be hurt this way.

huey: …fuck you, albatross.

at which point, huey blasted ray of frost at the room ; elmer tanked it despite getting hit right in the face. when huey made a move to take the weapon himself, elmer stopped him, && when huey realized that elmer really bad turned against him, && he misty stepped out of the there && ran off.

a couple of days later, elmer sent him an apology letter:

Huey, I wish I had gotten to say a proper goodbye, although something tells me you haven’t gone far. I guess the length of time before I receive your response will make that clear… So don’t take too long, alright? And I’d appreciate it if you didn’t ignore this letter either, because you know that my arithmetic and calculation skills are not as keen as yours. If nothing else, it would make me happy to know that you’re well. As for myself, I’m just fine. Hopefully that can make you smile too. It occurred to me that you might still be angry, and I understand why you might feel that way. I wish you weren’t, though. You’re still my best friend, and I tell everyone I know as much. I would hate to be lying to them. If you want me to apologize, however, I’m sure you know that I cannot. Believe me, I would have preferred to make you smile too, but the world is much larger than you, or Usben, or Kesh, or the empire as a whole. Esperanza once told me that making everyone in the world happy was impossible. Perhaps it’s the world that needs to change first, in order for that to happen. Still, I’d like to make it up to you. Your smile might be able to make me happy as well. You like experiments. This is one I would like to try. Esperanza and I are in Usben now, parlaying with Kesh. If you’re still in the city, you should be able to find me with no trouble. I’m sure Speran would love to see you as well. Otherwise, I will await your written response. Your friend, Elmer C. Albatross :) P.S. — If you can tell me in more detail why you wished to possess such a powerful weapon, I might be able to understand your reasoning. I know you better than to believe it was for Jovis’ sake, or the empire’s. I’d still like to help, if I can.

&& huey's response...

Elmer, I thought myself well beyond the reach of old friends, but as always, you seem to have found me out. I did consider ignoring your letter, perhaps burning it and swallowing the ashes, perhaps casting it unopened into the Abyss…but you are hard to ignore. I do hope this letter finds you—the attached instructions say to leave it in a tree hollow or body of water with a silver piece, which seems a strange system for delivering mail, but no matter. If your courier found me, I am sure they can retrieve a letter from a pond. I suppose I am pleased to know that you are well. I will not apologize for my actions in the throne room, but rest assured—I am not angry with you, Elmer. I understand that in your own misguided way, you did what you thought was right. You say the world is larger than us. I say it is too small. Too small for a mind like mine (or a heart like yours); too small for those of us who would climb to the Expanse and shift the turnings of the stars. (Too small to let us keep the things we love.) But I have realized that you are also right. I have been scrambling for power wherever I can grasp it, with no focus on my ultimate aim. I shall be more diligent in the future. Thank you, my friend. You have honed my ambitions to a far sharper edge. You must understand why I cannot return to Usben while you are there. After what I have done, I cannot risk a careless word from an old friend exposing me. And frankly, I doubt Esperanza would be very pleased to see me. I shall lay low for now, but rest assured my friend, we will see each other again. In the meantime, if you could send me news of the Amris girl, that would be most helpful, and would make me very happy. As ever, Chiusadov Huey L.

all in all... things have been pretty crazy.

[smilingangel582]

A new form of punishment?

Hii this bl is quite popular among many communities. In case you finished watching the series or at least the novel... Read my tk fic! I swear this is a good one. A cute one!

Warning for spoilers, sex, bondage, swearing, and kissing...

It happened again. Pete wondered if Kun-Kinn (boss or mister in thai) was purposely punishing Porsche out of spite since the guy barely tried addressing him as 'sir' or another respectful.

Arm and Pol already looked anxious for their buddy Porsche, and Pete felt the same. He had been with Kinn for a while and everyone was worried as usual.

"He's here at last..."

Pete spoke with concern, seeing the person approach, meanwhile Porsche wincing as he took each step rather painfully. It burdened their hearts to see their fellow bodyguard is weakned.

Yet in Porsche's mind, the pleasure of pain was taking over... the memory of Kinn's sexy magn -ahem! Nobody needs to know that Porsche had his secret with the mafia boss. Punishment-more like reward and yet his butt might spilt open from the pain, and that makes it an effective punishment.

"Ai-Porsche!" (A honorific for friends)

Porsche was startled, and immediately, his mind escaped from the alluring look of Kinn he imagined briefly, straightening himself he feigned pain (like he's not feeling enough -Kinn certainly numbed his lower body)

"Are you OK?"

Porsche cleared his throat, "Not bad... Kinn was a bit aggressive today," partially it was true. Kinn was merciless.

Pete patted his back now and Porsche had to show a fake cry of pain so show he was being whipped "Ah... Pete it still hurts..."

Pete's innocent face was shocked with concern, and he shakily said, "My friend, allow me to heal your wounds.. "

Shaking his head quickly before the cats out of the bag, Prosche moved away "No need... um well it will heal so... I'm gonna crash early today."

It was chapter closed. Nobody argued or asked anything, Porsche had been interested in what new methods will Kinn 'punish' him next time.

A few days went and Porsche fell into another problem with Ken this time. The half foreign man just downright yelled and spat at him for being so disrespectful about the mafia. But all Porsche did was talk to Vegas in a friendly way. Kinn knew this and said he will double the punishment on Porsche.

Porsche smiled through pursed lips to conceal his internal happiness with Kinn's sexual punishments. Will he be violent to suck him and devour him, or will he tease him arousingly. Porsche was more than just enthusiastic. He was excited.

Now here he was with Kinn greeting him out from his room, pulling him to a hungry kiss and hooking his tongue with his. Porsche was prepared for this, yet he was surprised when Kinn did not put on the condom on both of them as he cuffed Porsche to the bed.

"Something you forgot?"

Kinn smirked, he beautiful smile suddenly tempting Porsche to kiss those lips. He leaned forward and playfully tapped his nose "I'm doing something fun with you but I feel you will hate it,"

"Oiii!" Porsche whined now dropping his momentum against the fluffy sheets of the bed, "but I want you to eat me!"

Kinn shook his head, now tracing Porsche's naked ribs, making the latter flinch. This touch was not the usual touch. This was a bit too light and unbearable than his usual tracing.

"K-Kinn this Is too... um l-light..."

Kinn hummed playfully and then continued to circle around his sides, making Porsche arch with a grunt "Oi!"

"What's wrong? Does it tickle?"

The words itself explained Kinn's plan with Porsche. He lowered his head with a whine now. "Don't do this to me, Kinn... I hate - Ah!"

He flinched when Kinn poked his ribs this time firm and tickly. Prosche gritted his teeth together, forcing the unpleasant sounds escaping from his throat.

Kinn raised an eyebrow. "Oh? Are you perhaps distressed, dear Porsche?"

"N-no! It -fuck j-just stop it!"

"Stop what?"

"Noho!" Porsche couldn't help giggle now when Kinn's hands were deliberately on his waist, his left side was weaker as his uncle had told in the past. Even Jom took advantage of that spot when they were sparring.

Kinn was picking it up fast and effectively and then pinched both sides of his waist individually. Upon the pinch on his right side, he jolted to the left, and then he tweaked the left, making Porsche shriek with another giggle.

"Oho did you just giggle?"

"Yohou hears wrohong!" But giggles spilt instantly to prove him false instead. Porsche was biting his lips now, too afraid to speak in case he let's out satisfying expressions for Kinn.

"Cute... honestly, better not let anyone know. Otherwise, you'll wish I was tickling you,"

"Better than yohohou!"

Kinn paused, now looking up to see Porsche's wrists bound above the headboard. He gently reached to crawl down at his inner wrists teasingly sliding down the arms, which made Porsche panic instantly "A-ah wait wait wahahait!"

"I'm not going anywhere... just riiiight down..." he dragged his words as his fingers tickled down his elbows, now slowing his pace tortoruosly at his biceps. Porsche regretted his doings... this punishment was something new and unexpected bit quite effective.

"PLEHEHEASE! KUHUHUHN!"

Porsche's begging surprised Kinn that he stopped but didn't pull back his fingers. He frowned now. "Did you, Porsche pitchaya, beg me and address me as sir?"

Kinn watched Porsche's ears glow red, now looking back embarrassedhe was speechless. Kinn dug into his armpits and Porsche quickly shrieked into cackles of bright bubbly laughter. It also surprised Kinn that he had a cute laugh worth listening too and it was infectious.

"NOHOHO NONONONO I AHAHAM SOHOHORRY KIHIHINN! IHIHI WOHOHOHONT BUHUHUG THE OTHEHEHERS!!!! SOHOHO STOHOHOP PLEAAAAASEEEE"

Loud, Kinn winced but then stopped as he smiled fondly, his hands resting on his hips, not tickling, but it still made Porsche giggle.

"How adorable... but I am serious..." he said now, "if anyone knew this, our family is doomed... they'll tickle the information out of you,"

Porsche flushed hard now, still panting. "Huh?? Noho way I'm thst weak! It's not... possible!"

Kinn kissed him briefly on the forehead. "Shall we tesr that love?"

Prosche, too engrossed with the kiss, hummed in agreement, but then after recalling back yo his request, he sqauked "fuck! No no no I didn't-Aaaaiii nooooo!"

He fell into another tremola of giggles when Kinn attacked his hips. Kinn could go easy on him next time... in case there will be a next?

Sigh, aren't they cute! How can u not tickle Porsche! He's a bratty adorable man!

Inspiration by actor Apo!

[alrissamariam]

"I don't feel so good."

I think I’m getting bad again, maybe worse this time. And I’m not sure anyone can help me even if they wanted to.

I have lived and I have learned, I have lost and I have loved.

My mind has gone blank for I have been feeling everything and nothing at the same time. My heart is heavy with self-doubt and discouragement. My shoulders sag with undetermined decisions and heavy burdens. My feet are heavy with balls of steel chained around my ankles.

I don’t feel so good.

The nightmares have become too daunting that I seek comfort in the night skies by the side of the road. The only way to silence my mind would be a dangerous run outside the safety of home at midnight while the rain pelts my skin and stings my cuts. 

I feel horrible for the people around me, because I have been told that being friends with somebody who is drained drains you. Am I draining you guys too? If so, shall I move away? Or will you help to extend your hand that you know I’ll struggle for eternity trying to reach?

My appetite has gone from my body and my skin has dropped a shade on my face, the bags under my eyes are sandbags that continue to descend, my throat is closed up most of the time and my body is not here.

I feel disgusted with myself when I stare at the food I could barely finish, because all I wanted to do was push it off the table and watch the plate shatter on the floor so I could cut my crevices bigger to allow my hands in so I could fix myself.

There’s ringing in my ear, my heart is clashing against my ribcage, my eyes are drooping with fatigue, my skin is cold, my movements are sluggish. Every breath I try to suck in is choked, like there happens to be a ball of self-sabotage lodged into my throat.

I remember unlocking the door so slowly as I tried to keep myself upright and the moment I stepped into the quiet and dark house, I shut the door and my bag fell from my shoulder. My head was spinning, my breaths shallow and the water was up to my throat. 

One step forward to try to at least get to the bean bag, and before I knew it, my head had fallen before my body as it crumbled to the marble floor with a thud–yet there was silence. 

Nobody had heard anything and nobody had come down. 

I couldn’t utter a single sound.

I couldn’t reach for my phone.

I wasn’t sure how long I stayed on the floor like that, but the bump on the back of my head was enough to tell me that I probably hit my head hard enough to be knocked out for a bit. The strain in my ribs was a clear indication that my terrifying past would probably come back, and moments of standing in the corner to eavesdrop on what the doctor was saying to my dad came back to me.

How do I ask for help?

I felt like my voice was taken from me, my freedom strangled and my privacy breached. At twenty-one, I feel as dead as I never have. I feel like a walking zombie instead of a fucking human.

I hated blacking out, unsure if by the time I come to, which would hurt first between my head, side or entirety? How do I eat when all I want is to throw it all back up? How does one believe they’re allowed to ask for help when all they’ve been told is that they’re a burden?

Beban. That’s what I am.

A burden to others.

I don’t feel so good.

I feel sick, my stomach churning, heart failing and soul disappearing. I wanted to be allowed room to make my own decisions and mistakes, and still be cared for as one should be. 

I feel clingy, starved of physical touch and affection that I crave so much from a woman who would always put man before her children when her children should always come first.

I feel disgusted, not with anyone but myself for the way I’ve treated myself and the things my mind haunts me with, screaming at me that I should do it sooner rather than later because who the fuck would miss me?

I feel empty–gone are the pieces of myself that I worshipped and took pride in, replaced with self-loathe and mockery. My mouth has been sewn shut and my heart is banging on my chest to be expressed, to be let out and it begged for help.

But my mind knew better. It was a constant battle with my heart about who gets to make the decision. Do we let the heart win and beg for help, or do we let the mind stay in control and keep our mouth shut so we don’t burden others?

I’m not so sure anymore.

But all I know is; I don’t feel so good.

[catboyaesthetic]

Green & Unpleasant Land.

This story was made with the help of the "Green and Unpleasant Land" solo RPG.

He was always a clever fellow. How disappointing it was to see him fall so low. He sought to lose me in the offal and squalor of the slums, but the prints of his boots in the floor were too evenly-weighted, too clean. The long decay of years had not yet rotted parts of his sole out of his boots. Any true denizen of this place would walk around with half a foot hanging out of the remnants of their shoe, with decaying bandages or wraps on the other. Even in the ever-changing mire of the slums, his prints were obvious. A mistake only a novice would make.

I knew he liked the drink. Not alcohol, mind you, if only it had been as simple as that. No, he drank blood. Blood of his foes, to be exact. He used to say it strengthened him. That it made his head clearer. That it let him think like them. A shame, then, to see him slowly turn into one of them before his body ever showed any sign of it. In the end, he became just like them. They say we all are, in order to hunt the things we do. In his case, he proved them right.

There’s still something of him in there. I know because he tried to bait me by leaving one of his victims for me to stumble upon. I’m not sure if he’s forgotten he taught me everything he knows, or he’s hoping that I’m a greater fool than I am. You always try to get a bigger fish – or creature – with a smaller one. I still remember the look he gave me when I’d almost managed to sneak up on him. I think that's when he realised there are more tricks in the world than just his alone.

He was beside me in a blink. He’d always been a diabolical swordsman, but there was a fresh speed to him, fresh strength. It was a flash of steel and only by instinct did I manage to intervene my own dagger before my sword cleared the scabbard. I had hoped to make it quick, but he used to say that luck does not favor monsters. If books were written about people like us, this battle would have been a grand scene with swordplay, drama, life and death at stake. The last part, at least, was true. I managed to get by by the skin of my teeth, matching blow for blow and cut for cut. Despite his descent and the favor that came with it, he did not outmatch me. He might have learned new tricks, but so had I through hunting alone. A realization he seemed to share, as what remained of him in there chose survival over revenge and fled to lick his wounds. In truth, it would not have taken much longer. Likely we both would have ended up dead. But I would have had him. And he never could stomach being beaten.

I remember the first time I’d written him with questions. Where had he been? Where was he now? What were these unexplained journeys he kept having to make? He’d always hated being questioned, but this did not speak of his usual gall or ire. This held something new. Amidst the sweet words of assurance and the explanations of his absence, there was naked fear. He had always been comfortable with me, comfortable enough to share his affection for his practices. Now, it seemed, he had repented his ways. He’d come clean to the Arbell, recused, reformed, reborn. He was many things. Pious had never been one of them.

Eventually I managed to track him to this place. A simple process of elimination. One which – in a great stroke of irony – he had taught me. Perhaps I have given him more credit than he’s worth, for he degenerated to a state of animalistic instinct. He would have known to kill and keep moving, so they can never find you. Keep your patterns random. He’d committed the cardinal sin. He’d become predictable. The denizens of the surrounding area had begun to take notice. Reports had been made. In the end, they’d sent me. I knew his patterns by now. I’d specifically asked to be sent, so I could be the one to send him off. He deserved that, at least. For his lessons.

He'd taught me to trust nothing but myself. Advice, I realise, which has become increasingly archaic. There is no world worth living in if we cannot trust our fellows. Why else do we do what we do? Simply because we must do this work does not mean we must eschew all contact. Though he had been right about Sinar. He had said she merely wanted me for the prestige. The ability to say she had managed to seduce one such as myself. That her affection was as spurious as mine was a waste on her. I was young and foolish. He was right. I didn’t want to believe him, nor did I want to believe when I saw Sinar entertain three of the guards during their nightly rounds. I could have killed them all. I wanted to. Sinar for her betrayal of my feelings. The guards for simply being associated. It was him that pulled me from the brink with his hand on my shoulder and the comfort of true companionship. I knew I loved him then. Not like I had loved Sinar. But I did. I still do. It’s why I’m here.

The door opens with a creak and I am pulled from my recollections. As he stands in the doorway, the moonlight outlines his figure. I can see his face and the blood that covers it. I see him then. The man he was. I see the fear in his eyes as he spots me in his chair and realizes he is outdone. As he begins to speak I shoot him. The din of my rifle echoing in the vast stretches of land surrounding this hovel. The blood and gore of the impact splattered across the doorway and the door behind him. He is no longer the man. He is the hateful creature that has been hunting innocents for years. He growls at me as he tries to push his organs back into his torso and the sting of regret fades to nothing. I pull the lever of my weapon and the shell ejects, landing with a hollow clatter at my feet and rolling towards his head. I do not ask for forgiveness as I set the barrel against his head and do the last kindness I can for the man who raised me.

[la-lauren]

I love her and she is doing nothing wrong. In fact, she’s doing EVERYTHING right. She knows how to handle my triggers (this is so huge), and she speaks life into me when my fears are holding on for theirs.

I wish I could play the conversation we had tonight. She spoke to me in ways I have only dreamed of being spoken to. She validated my feelings (important first step!!!) and then walked me through the fears.

But I think this is sending me straight into the arms of my eating disorder, and it is not her fault.

One of my biggest triggers is my own body. It was a miracle in itself that we had the sex we had this weekend. I’ve NEVER had sex that good. I’ve never been able to let go of my disgust of my body long enough to enjoy sex. I didn’t think it was possible. She isn’t hung up on her body seemingly at all, but she said she has never met someone and gone to bed with them so quickly. Me either, at least in this context. Anyway, I had an amazing time.

I triggered myself today bc I wanted to send a nsfw selfie to her since she had sent me one this morning. I tried several times but my body just made me want to throw up. Which sent me into a mental spiral — “this is what she sees, and I can’t deal with this.”

Her voice was so calm, so full of genuine care, when she said things like, “Yes, it is what I see, but your opinions about what we’re seeing are not my opinions. I will tell you this every day if you need to hear it, but I love every inch of your body and can’t wait to keep exploring it.”

She means it too. The girl kept trying to kiss every part of my body, including my belly, but I kept redirecting her because it activates my gag reflex.

At some point, she was like, “Your body could be bigger or smaller or whatever, and you will always be so sexy to me because of who you are. You are the kind, caring, communicative woman I fall harder for every day, and the body you inhabit deserves to feel good no matter what form it takes.” Obviously I’m paraphrasing, but it’s not far off.

I ended up in fetal position, naked, crying on my bed. This conversation was purely uplifting, but I still can’t accept what she’s saying.

And because of that, I can’t bring myself to eat.

On top of all of that, she is very practical and essentially said I need to get my shit together. She doesn’t mind helping now but wants me to finish the degree, take steps to move to LA, fix the credit, etc. She made it very clear it isn’t about results but about trying. She called me tf out and said she knows I’m doing enough to scrape by but she knows it isn’t the life I want, and she is ready for US to have the life WE want, together, traveling the world and just being comfortable. She (of course) wants a balanced relationship (as do I) financially and wants to live together before getting married.

I was stuck on “Demise” by Hannah Hill for several days, but now I’ve switched over to “Renegade” by Big Red Machine & Taylor. It just feels fitting.

Very “Is it insensitive for me to say “get your shit together so I can love you””-esque of my life now.

Maybe this is the crossroads. A spiritual, physical, emotional love pure enough to break some of my chains… but I have to get my shit together to fully experience it.

The eating thing though, I really don’t know how to address it. I never want to make her feel like she’s causing me harm, but her body and eating habits are massively triggering tf out of me. I can’t say that to her. Her existence shouldn’t trigger me, and if it does, I’m fucked.

She still only eats once a day and very little.

I seem to have adapted the habit. I’m very hungry now but terrified to eat because I hate my body, especially in relation to hers.

If I ruin this relationship with my fears, I will scream from the rooftops.

[uncouth-the-fifth]

imagine damian and the reader at the wayne gala. he gets jealous when he sees her flirting with someone else. he ends up pulling her into a bathroom and fucking her in front of a mirror while saying that other person can’t treat her like he does

and that’s how the reader finds out damian has feelings for her. all this time he acted like he hates her because he’s in denial

Title: More Than They Ever Said

Paring: Robin!Damian (18+) / Canary!Reader

Tags/Warnings: semi-public sex, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, bathroom sex, slight underage drinking (reader is like 20 lol), mentions of golf.

Word Count: 7150

Notes: sooooo.... this def evolved beyond a drabble lol. the way gala sex kills me every time 😭 I was a little mushy w Dami here bc I miss his sweet side. This also sounded a lot like goldenspecs12's request from Wattpad, so I hope you don't mind that I meshed the two together 😚 I leaned toward Damian liking the reader more than being in denial, but that’s the only thing I sacrificed between the two requests. This one is my fluffiest and most romantic yet 💖

"can I request Damian w a Queen reader, like she's Oliver and Dinah's child? say the reader is a hero but not very active, like she comes in when her parents can't. so when she and Damian meet, they hit it off. The main request is that they sneak away at a gala held by Oliver and the reader and Damian have sex."

Ask to be added to my taglist for future posts!

The party was more fun than you thought it would be.

Benefits were usually chalk-full of old, wealthy people that thought they made good conversationalists. The board members of Queen Industries were tired of Oliver trying to escape their claws, so you’d been recruited in his place. While your dad got to play minigolf in the penthouse’s massive party floor, you were confined to the lounge, playing up what an intelligent, capable business partner you’d be when you were CEO. Fellow businessmen gruffed about their plans with you while their wives cooed and drank, pinching your cheeks.

You thought that you’d hate it, but the attention and the praise was nice. It made you feel like you were helping your dad and your family’s company, which was constantly criticized and judged for it’s choice in CEO. Everyone called your father a lazy silver-spooned idiot, but he was one of the only men in Star City who actually cared. By the time you had Q.I’s biggest donors laughing out of their seats, Dinah’s hands slipped over your shoulders and you were kissed on the side of the face. Thank you, she mouthed, and your position as family support-beam was covered.

Since most of the benefit-goers were at least forty years your senior, you gravitated to your dad. From the penthouse’s upper balcony, you could see his friends circling around the tiny green mats they were using as a makeshift golf course. Usually, Ollie made sure his public persona’s aim was as garbage as his taste in drink was. But tonight, he played as Green Arrow, who never missed. Not once. Especially when it came to Bruce Wayne, who’s golf game was abysmal at best.

But like Oliver, Bruce was a new man tonight. It looked like he was ready to break out the batarangs any minute now. The two men were barely civil about the viciousness of their competition, and if the view of the game from the balcony was interesting, then from below it must’ve been the greatest show of fragile masculinity ever displayed. You had to make fun of them.

The only opening in the circle of men, who all had their hands on their chins as Bruce lined up his next shot, was by the floor-to-ceiling windows to one side of the game. Just one man stood there, hands in his pockets. You slid next to him, unbothered, and squinted at the game.

Everyone in the crowd was dead silent. Bruce was lining up his golf ball so it would roll into a mug a couple of feet away, so you helpfully provided, “A little to the left, Mr. Wayne.”

Your words overlapped with someone else’s. Where you had said Mr. Wayne, they had said Father. Then the man next to you was his son, but...

You would have never guessed it would be him.

Reasonably, you knew that Robin was Damian Wayne. Oliver could be a little loose-lipped at times, and by his judgment you’d been a teenager just a year ago - what could a twenty year old do to Batman’s secret identity? Not much.

Until you saw Robin without his mask.

Damian was achingly beautiful. He was your age, but he stood and talked like he was much older. There was an angle to his shoulder that made him seem astute and sexy. His eyes fixed on you when you spoke at the same time, and they were a surprising mossy color that jumped out against his tan skin, like plants flourishing out of rich soil. There was just enough blue in them to make him seem haunting. Any moment, you felt like he was going to corner you and whisper your future throatily in your ear.

Looking into them, those piercing eyes, for longer than a second made you want to blurt, “You’re much prettier without your mask.”

But that would expose his secret to every golf-loving idiot in earshot, so Oliver had been wrong. A twenty-year-old like you could do fatal damage to Batman’s secret identity, but for Damian, the short-tempered, snappish leader of the Teen Titans, you would risk anything.

Damian stared, and you stared. He squinted, wet his lips, then turned back to the game. This was your only acknowledgment that he recognised you. His voice was deeper, smoother, than you remember it. “Queen.”

You shifted in your shoes, almost laughing in shock. “...Wayne.”

The game grew boring and Damian didn’t say anything else, so you said nothing too, sneaking glances at him. The last time you’d spoken to Robin had been in costume, when he’d thanked you for assisting with a mission. He’d really been thanking you for standing up for him. You didn’t team up often with the Titans, but when you did, you found that they were unusually snappy and mean with their leader. Not necessary on purpose, but you could tell that Damian couldn’t take as many bites as he pretended to. Standing up for him had been a simple thing. The good thing to do. Now, with that look in his eyes, it almost felt like he still thought about it.

He must have, because the kiss you shared at the end of that mission had glowed with heat. To be fair, you both may have believed you were going to die (before the team pulled through and saved you), so it could’ve been a heat-of-the-moment thing. But this was Robin - if he didn't want to kiss you, he wouldn't. And yet he did.

You’d kissed. And the energy of that kiss lingered between you now, drawing you closer together, putting tiny smiles on your faces. He was cute. Cuter without that mask on.

You stood in the stupid golf silence, feeling foolish. Flirting with boys was much easier in fishnets. It didn’t help how fine Damian’s profile was. He had soft, feathery lashes that occasionally touched down on beauty marked cheeks. His lips were even fuller from the side, forever drawn in a curious line. And those eyes, when they caught yours and danced away again, were much too nice to hide behind a mask. You couldn’t get that thought out of your mind.

When Bruce finally made his move, you leaned in to whisper something to each other at the same time, accidentally knocking shoulders.

“I - apologies,” Damian flushed.

“Oh, um, my bad,” you rubbed awkwardly at the spot where you’d collided. “...You were going to say something?”

Damian’s eyes flicked to your fathers, then to you, unimpressed. He lowered his voice so only you could hear. “They’re awfully hypocritical, don’t you think? Father snaps at me everytime I use my skills in public, and yet he’s putting with perfect aim like it’s not the very same.”

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes and scooted closer, ducking your voice into the bubble between your bodies. “My dad’s the same way. Don’t aim in the house, he says, unless it’s him trying to beat Bruce Wayne.”

Your company’s shoulders turned sideways, leaning into you. His breath ghosted the hair on your neck, standing it on end, and again that silky voice sent tingles down your spine. Damian must change his voice as Robin, because he never spoke like this then. So huskily, so low.

He shook his head. “Unbelievable.”

You watched him. He watched you. You ran your tongue over your teeth, and Damian subtly adjusted his slacks from his pockets.

At the same time, you asked each other, “Would you like to get a drink?”

_

Your hiding place was a loveseat in the lounge, between more businessmen and their ditzy heirs. The bartender was your family’s, so he smiled and turned down your request for a drink, courtesy of your dad’s strictness. Luckily, he didn’t recognise Damian. You watched him order it at the bar, his rings catching the light, the muscle in his arms peeking out from under his blazer.

“I think he suspected I wasn’t of age, so he only gave me one.” He took the place next to you, propping his ankle on one knee and lounging out like a panther. Damian offered the cocktail to you, once he’d decided the coast was clear. It was a cute gesture. “Is that acceptable?”

You fished a five dollar bill out of your purse. “Only if you take this for paying. Don’t think I didn’t see you try and sneakily get that past me.”

Damian scrutinized the bill, then you, somehow managing to be a smartass without opening his mouth. Instead of thinking about how nice it would feel to kiss the slight crease between his brows, you traded hands with him so the bill was in his and the drink was in yours. The gentle brush of you palm to his knuckles put way too many butterflies in your belly.

You talked about everything and anything. About home, family life, your cities. The best of it was when Damian dipped his head so only you could hear him, keeping your secrets close and your bodies closer. This was the only way he talked about Robin, so you circled back to any vigilante subject you could think of just so Damian would keep purring into your ear like that. Better yet, he was smart. Talking to him was engaging, and within minutes he'd entranced you, so you sat there talking for more than an hour. Around you, the party rotated and went on.

At one point, you took a drink of the cocktail and passed it to him to share. Damian placed his lips right where yours had been, licking up the cocktail salt and gulping it down slow, adam’s apple bobbing, like it wasn’t the taste of the vodka he was savoring.

Eventually, your bliss was broken. Damian was called over to his father, again, to discuss business, and he left you with your remaining cocktail and the memory of that mission. You couldn’t find a reason to move from your seat. When you’d realized that you and Robin had been led into a trap on that mission, it’d been too late, and your efforts to escape became more and more futile. All you could do was pray the Titans got to you on time. Robin had offered you his glove as the walls closed in, and you’d watched up-close as he assumed you were both about to die. The fear in his eyes was strange - like it was familiar to him. At the same time, you cupped his neck and he held your upper back, and you’d kissed fervently, sweetly.

Damian had put his forehead to yours, and promised even as the trap shrunk around you, “You were excellent. More excellent than they ever said.”

In the big picture, it was a strange last remark to make, and afterwards you’d been too happy about surviving to think about it. But in the moment, you understood. You were understood. Somehow, Damian had reached into your soul and gouged out the words you’d been dying to hear, from your parents, from anyone, and uttered them to you with burning conviction. Maybe it was the adrenaline, or maybe he meant it. Damian found you excellent. Someone, somewhere, didn’t think you were a failure.

Odd, how you’d never seen the face of the man you thought you’d die with (until now), and yet he saw you so easily. You watched him follow his father into the party crowd now, wondering. The Titans had saved you before you could ask what he’d meant. More importantly, before you could tell him the same. He was excellent.

_

Once you’d finished off your drink, you left it at the bar and grinned evilly at your family bartender. He rolled his eyes and slyly delivered you another, which, on your superhero schedule, would not have you drunk yet. Another heir to some big company was seated at your right, ignored by his father enough to look for some small talk with you.

He was one of the cute, nerdy types that were usually in awe of you. Girls, available girls, were typically rare at these kinds of parties, so he took you not having a boyfriend as permission to flirt with you. Unfortunately for him, your seat gave a perfect angle on Damian across the party floor. He was impressing the wives of Wayne business partners, who flocked around him like they’d flocked around you, pinching his cheeks. You could almost read their lips enough to guess what they were saying. What a handsome young man you are! Oh, Bruce must be so proud.

“...and then my father flipped over his kayak! Would you believe it? Two thousand dollars, thrown right in our family’s lake.” Your company snickered, howling at his own story.

You circled the rim of your glass, watching how Damian tried to teach some of the women phrases in Arabic. Unknown to them, they were some pretty funny swear words. It threw you into a bout of giggles, and the man next to you kept talking, spurred on by the noise.

The flock of hens around Damian receded, and his shoulders slouched in relief. That was cute, too. It wasn’t often that people understood how draining these parties were, but for people like you and Damian, it was a racetrack of endless, boring circles. Everything was a formality. Few things were genuine. Damian turned, and you caught his eye to let him know you were going to meet him. He nodded toward a side hall, his mouth a curious line again. If you looked at it long enough, it felt like a smile when he mouthed, escape?

Your company was still talking. He stopped when you grabbed his tie and planted a pity-kiss on his cheek, waving to him as you bounced away. “Sorry, kid. Not my type.”

_

You planned to bring Damian to the secluded balcony on the second floor to unwind, but instead, you were taken by the wrist and maneuvered into an empty powder room. It was colder than the steaming party air and smelled like champagne, with couches to sit on and mirrors to powder at. For a bathroom, the lights were warm and low. The noise of the party went quiet the instant the door was shut, like you and Damian had entered your own little world. No more circles. No more back and forth.

“Here,” Damian said, noting the mirrors. He tilted his head as he asked, like he was nervous, “Is this acceptable?”

“It is the ladies powder room, but I’ll give you a pass, since you’re cute.” You joked. Damian didn’t make a move to relax on one of the couches yet, hanging in front of you like there was more he wanted to say. There was more you wanted to say, too, but no good words came to mind.

But the silence wasn’t awkward. Again, Damian stared, and you stared. The glass he brought with him was set down. He put one fist on the counter beside the door, and like honey had been poured on your nerves, you realized how easy it would be for him to push you up against it. Kiss you senseless. Heat drooled off of him this close, and you wondered if he’d still lean in to whisper to you even if you were alone.

The lack of words drew to a point where something had to be said, anything, but his eyes felt so good on your skin and it was interesting to see him nervous. Something strange told you that Damian liked the silence, too.

You wet your lips with your tongue. Damian cleared his throat, and took a sip from his glass. “Was I interrupting something?”

“Between me and that guy?” You smiled gently, like you were reassuring him, and laughed to yourself. “Oh, man, you should’ve seen it, Damian. Poor kid really thought I was flirting with him. He’d totally convinced himself, it was hilarious.”

His profile was tense in the mirror, which you stole glances at to watch how the amber light played on his handsome skin. When Damian swallowed his drink, his throat rolled in the sexiest way, and immediately your mind fed you with visions of suckling, kissing, tonguing his neck.

“Why’d you ask?” Your eyes sparkled. Damian drew a step closer, and you used the opportunity to swipe a drop of alcohol from the corner of his lip with your thumb. “You jealous?”

It was the touch or the suggestion that made Damian pause. He didn’t stutter, but lagged over what to say, eyes vast and wanting as they raked over your face. “I don’t get jealous,” he clarified, “but… I do intend to be the only man to kiss you tonight.”

Damian’s hand took your chin. Your belly exploded with instant arousal, hitting you like a bullet of liquid lust. “You’re the only man who’s kissed me like that,” you whispered, taking his tie in hand. “I hope that’s always true.”

His voice had gone throaty. “May I kiss you again?”

Again, he reminded you.The two of you had kissed before, and it had been spectacular, terrifying, and excellent.

“Please,” you said, and Damian rushed to your aid.

Not a moment more was wasted. Curling his tie into your fist, you drew him in, slow and deep and wonderfully. Damian’s cologne hit you before his lips did, and both made your core throb for friction. Two broad hands slammed your hips into the door. His fingertips smoothed up the fabric of your dress, pressing you back and squeezing you in until you could feel his belt buckle against your belly. Damian was a sweet, magnetic kisser, chasing your lips like he was on a crusade to save them. Each time they met, he swam deeper. The point of his nose bumped against your cheek. You hummed your laugh against his lips, and Damian groaned as he pulled away, readjusting, twisting, testing the limits of the kiss. And you followed him at every step or more, revelling in his taste.

You didn’t want him to think you wanted the kiss to end, so you drew the hands braced under his blazer around his neck. Soon, that didn’t feel close enough, so you cupped each side of his face and pecked Damian until you were breathless. He brought you in until your arms were flat to his chest, the kiss almost vertical in its intensity.

He groaned when you parted, gasping and blinking just inches from your face. Your mouths were still connected by a thick string of drool, which hung until it split and clung to Damian’s chin and fell, marking a wet strip down into his collar. You panted, watching it go.

Damian left your waist to hold your wrists, keeping your hands around his face. He settled warmly into your touch, basking in it, and the pure enjoyment on his face made you smile. You wondered if anyone else had cared for him like this. If Damian had ever felt someone hold his face and treasure it. The thought gave you a strange urge, so you followed it.

You brought Damian’s brow level with your mouth and sweetly kissed his forehead. Then his nose bridge, then his temples. His face was so quickly warm that you giggled. In the most unsubtle way possible, Damian drew back his hips so you couldn’t feel the heat there, and closed his eyes, begging you to continue.

“I want you,” you whispered against his jaw.

Damian shivered. “You have me.”

You shifted one hand to his shoulder, giving yourself more room to nuzzle and kiss his neck. The line of drool was still there, so you cupped his skin and tilted his jaw up, and in one stroke, licked all the way to his earlobe. Damian’s moan poured from his mouth like a growing flood. You even felt his thighs press together between you, and pleasure tingled in your throat when he choked at the glide of your tongue.

He released your wrists, reached beside you, and locked the door with an audible click.

Then, Damian devoured you. Both hands hooked around your back, arching your chest into his, and finally, bringing his bulge between your hips. You clung to him for dear life, helpless as his teeth pressed into your neck like a vampire. Damian fed like one, too, suckling the skin there like he was starved. Your panties were so wet that you were desperate to get out of them, grinding your core against his.

Damian retreated, gasping. He licked the spit off of his lips and glared into your eyes. Bluntly, he said, “I want to eat you out.”

Once more, you kissed him, delirious with excitement. Your lungs burned for air, but your core burned harder for him. “Take off that suit and you can do whatever you want to me.”

His eyes gleamed. “I plan to.”

Quickly, you shoved your hands into his sleeves and pushed them off his shoulders, giving you a crisp glimpse at his carved shoulders. Damian's fingers blurred from button to button, but he saved the last for you on purpose. You worked in tandem and with little thought. If he could, Damian would steal a kiss, and you would bite his lip and chase him into more. When that last button was popped, his white button-down parted for a gorgeous plane of hard-earned muscle. His abs, ribs and pecs were pockmarked with scars, shrapnel marks and in some places, bullet holes. You stopped.

At your staring, Damian pressed his lips together.

“It's.. not appealing, I know,” he monotoned.

“No,” you disagreed, palming his stomach, “it’s impressive. All these do is show how strong you are, how long you've survived. You're so… built...” you didn't hide your thorough examination of him, “...I mean, we have to be to do what we do, but still… It suits you. It's sexy.”

You worried you'd ruined the moment with your babbling, but he glimmered under your praise. Damian brightened in the way only Damian could, smirking devilishly and towering over you like a supervillain.

“Sexy?” He pressed his naked chest into yours, whispering hotly in your ear. You could feel his silk tie pinned between you. “Does that mean I'm your type?”

You rolled your eyes. “Eavesdropper.”

“Temptress,” Damian replied, just as easily.

To claim your title, you found Damian's belt and pulled on it until the clasp gave. It made a satisfying whipping noise as you ripped it off of him, shouldered into his space to grab his waist in one hand, and cupped his throbbing boxers in the other. Damian's sigh came hoarsely and wanton from his mouth.

“Fuck me,” you demanded, grinning with delight.

Instead of wasting time on a response, Damian fell to his knees, a faithful worshipper. He did the gentlemanly thing and helped you kick off your heels. The tile was icy on your bare feet, but it only mattered until Damian ran his hands up your thighs. Sliding his fingers underneath the fabric, he bunched it up your middle, peering up at you smugly through his lashes. You could feel the debauchery of it - Damian, on his knees, tie hanging still from his neck, pinning you to the door. You, your legs spread and wanting.

Damian sucked in a breath. Your panties had an obvious wet patch, put there by him. He thumbed it carefully, watching your brows tense and your eyes close, basking in your initial whine. All of it enchanted him. You were soaking because of him, trembling because of him, marked because of him. There was not one place he would rather be than here.

Damian collected your sweetness and sampled the taste on his thumb, trapping it behind his smug smile. He ran his tongue over his teeth, spreading the flavor around his mouth, savoring it. As Damian rolled your underwear down your legs, his cock twitched in his open fly. You were beautiful. Oh, he was going to enjoy this.

“Put your leg over my shoulder,” Damian ordered, smirking, “I want to taste you.”

Warmth exploded in your cheeks. “G-go ahead.”

Gradually, you situated your leg across his back, pussy tensing at the touch of the cooler air. This didn't matter for long. Damian's warm lips nuzzled and kissed the thigh closest to him, painting messy reflective circles on your skin with his kiss. Even that made your legs tense wildly, so Damian shoving his wet, blazing tongue into the folds of you cunt pumped moan after moan from your mouth.

“Damian!” You yelped.

Oh, he definitely liked that. Damian pinched your ass and used his mouth so passionately that his head shook back and forth. He darted right for your clit, sucking it until his cheeks were hollow and humming smugly between your legs with every squeal. Parting your folds with one hand, Damian kissed your core just as dirtily as he'd kissed you. The dangerous glint in his eye never faded. He plunges his tongue inside you in earnest, slurping obscenely, purposefully. There's no need for Damian to shoot you cute looks or put on a show - his skill was the performance, because that skill was unbeatable. Your pussy was already tender, fucked nerveless by Damian's filthy mouth. He vibrated your cunt with a deep groan before he drew away, face dripping with slick like a pornstar’s.

“You're suitably wet,” he said, matter-of-factly, “would you like me to use my fingers?”

All the strength you had went into a weak, pleading nod.

Damian was polite enough to grant you your bearings first, letting you grip his hair and squeeze the counter before he resumes. You give him the sweetest, most precious whine when Damian licks you open again. He wisely starts with one finger and builds from there, earning you with pumps and curls of his digits. Damian's talents quickly become a currency, one that you exchange with mewls and pants of praise.

“So good,” you whine, “oh, fuck - fuck, just like that…”

Damian smirks between your legs, jamming his fingers faster into your sore pussy. Lust sizzles low in your gut, ramped up again and again by his thrusting. It’s so powerful that you roll and buck off the door, your hips in his face. You want him - want him more than you want anything.

“You're ravaging,” Damian hums between licks. His eyes are closed, but that only gives the way he touches you more meaning.

It’s so surprising from his mouth that your hold on his hair slips, setting Damian free. He pants, catching his breath, and it’s easily the sexiest thing you’ve ever seen in your life. The effort has slouched him from his knees to his calves, further spreading his legs and opening up the fly of his pants. A solid bulge has formed and spilled out there, straining to escape his briefs like an arm in a sling that’s too small, way too small, for someone of his size. Three of Damian’s fingers are still twisting inside of you.

Slowly, Damian tipped back his head and hung down, arranging himself beneath your cunt. “So beautiful.” His free hand splayed where your leg met your hip. “May I touch you?”

“I-I get it’s the gentleman thing to do, to - to keep asking, but fuck, Damian,” you cursed, “you can do whatever you want to me.”

Damian’s intense jade eyes were so dilated that you could barely make out the color. He dragged his cheek against your thigh, fingers still circling inside you, and grinned like a shark. It was probably a bad idea to give the heir to the Demon’s Head that much power over you.

His other hand squeezed your skin, slow to passionate, from your belly to your breasts beneath your dress. It’s clear by the way Damian looks at you that he loves what he sees. The texture of his veiny, calloused hands feels good on your waist and ass, dragging you closer to him. He chuckles when your back arches, when your nails press into his hands, his back muscles, throwing himself into his task. Damian’s nose prods your folds as he licks you clean, tongue dipping and sliding against your sore clit. It’s like he’s done this for you before, in this exact way. Though he utilizes his tongue the most, his lips too are brutal, matched perfectly to fit your pussy lips.

But that tongue - how Damian’s jaw isn’t tired, you don’t know. He parts your folds and latches onto your clit, flicking his tongue at superspeed until drool and cum bubbles from your sensitive core. Your back winds tighter at every vibrating lick, paralyzing the muscles in your legs with glorious pleasure. It’s so exquisite you start to melt to the floor like warm clay, only to be bolstered back up by Damian, both hands viciously squeezing your ass. He keeps going not for you, but himself, sucking down every last drop of your juices.

Shattered, you twist hopelessly into his mouth, chasing the strained feeling like it’s the last you’ll ever glimpse. “Fuck, fuck - D-Damian, ah…”

“Did it feel good when I made you cum?” He teases, “It certainly tastes good. All those filthy little noises you make for me…” Damian shakes his head at himself, like it’s too fantastic to indulge again. He leaves your clit with a satisfied kiss. “Beautiful.”

Once more, the words are surprising to hear from him. You always considered Damian the prude type, but here he is, on his knees for you, mouth and chin glittering with your juices while he teases you in low, sexy tones. At your surprised look, Damian has the gall to blush.

With his ring finger in his mouth, he ponders, “If a man has never said that to you before...” pop, “consider me surprised.”

“Never while finger-fucking me, at least,” you admited, legs still trembelling. “It was sweet. You… you meant that?”

It was hard to imagine Damian Wayne finding anything beautiful. Even you, who was pretty enamored with him, figured he would judge by quality or skill, not beauty. The words tasted new on his tongue.

Slowly, Damian stood and stretched, his shoulders tight after staying in the strange position for so long. Lifting his arms coincidentally let his waistband sit lower on his hips, flashing his green boxers your way while showing off the huge, carved muscles of his arms. Truly, Damian’s subtlety was unmatched. You didn’t mind his miniature bragging fest - not when he had so much to brag about. Eating you out had put an excited shimmer in his skin, so the gold-toned lights of the room reflected sexily off his sweat, already accenting his kissable tan.

“I did,” he told you, moving on to his sucking middle finger. His other hand played on your thigh, stroking it. “I’ve always been… drawn to you. Every mission we’ve had together. I have a profound feeling that we are very similar.”

You laughed. Not at what he said, but the timing of it. “Would you believe me if I said I felt the same way?”

Damian made a face like his heart was doing jumping jacks. “A few hours ago? No. But now…” he barricaded you against the door, first with his hands and then his hips, closed in so tightly that you had to look past your nose to meet his eyes. “Your crush is adorably obvious. I’m annoyed that I didn’t see it before.”

Your rounded your hands against Damian’s shoulders, then his tie. It twisted nicely around your fingers, silky and cold in comparison to your flushed skin. You were tempted to fix your dress, but nothing, not even the world ending, could make you leave this room.

“My crush is obvious? Damian, all you’ve done for the last two hours is sneak me drinks and imply how much easier it is to be around me.” You grinned, “What’d you say earlier? There you are, Queen. Finally, someone intelligent enough to speak to me.”

Damian shrugged. “It’s true. Your knowledge of bioluminescent ocean life is fascinating.”

“I can’t believe you said that after giving me head for ten minutes.”

“It’s actually been closer to twelve,” Damian smirked.

Playfully, you pinched Damian’s cheek, then pulled him by the tie into a starved, energetic kiss. He must’ve been praying for your permission to continue, because the plan he’d been forming is quickly put into action. You’re hugged, arms scooped under your back as you kiss him. Damian surrenders his mouth to a bit of revenge tonguing while undoing your dress. No amount of kissing will pull him from his task, but your hand is a special case - it smooths down the front of his boxers and Damian melts.

“Y/N,” he groans.

Damian petulantly resists the temptation to close his eyes, but your touch is soft and sweet, demanding him to yield. Your lips suckle on his neck and Damian’s knees buckle. If getting his mouth between your legs didn’t turn him on, then this will finish him for sure.

“I missed you. Kissing you.” You purr into his throat. “One could never be enough for me.”

Is this what it’s like to be wanted? Damian asked himself. The only possible answer thrilled him, and he found himself pouring even more passion into the kiss, into you, wanting to share that rush of affection. You respond to his every touch with vigor. Damian’s heart stalls each time your thumb strokes his face, each time the other strokes him through his slacks.

“Me either,” he rasped, and helped you out of your dress. His tone was shy, but his words held too much depth to be meaningless. I want a wealth of them. I always want to kiss you, was what he wanted to say, but Damian was too embarrassed to raise the words. This moment was too special to ruin with his hopeless romanticism. He kissed you again and again, and to his amazement, you kissed him right back.

“Fuck me,” you begged him between breaths. “Right here. I don’t care if we’re caught.”

I don’t care if we’re seen together. I want to be seen with you, I’m not ashamed of you.

Damian cupped your face and almost knocked you both over with the strength of his kiss. Nose-to-nose, eyes closed, he commanded, “Bend over the fucking counter.”

In a blink, Damian turned and there you were, open and waiting for him. The sink was hip-level, so the bend was nothing but perfect - Damian could fuck you from behind and watch your lust-blown reflection without issue. Your perfect pussy drooled leftover cum down your legs, making your sex shine in the light.

In the mirror, you watched Damian’s eyes darken in delight. His pupils followed the line of your ass to your back, appreciating it like an artist would, like he intended to paint you later and needed to memorize the greatest shapes of your figure. The marble was icy against your hard nipples, which Damian had exposed when he’d impatiently shoved down your bra. Now, he cupped one of your breasts as he bent over you, kissing and suckling his way down your back.

“Perfect,” Damian hissed.

Shyly pressing your butt back against him, you buried your face in your arms and bit your lip, waiting for him to open you up. Damian’s shadow came to hover over you, and in the mirror his eyes were vicious, pools of circling sharks. “Are you ready?”

“Mhm,” you nodded. “Take your time.”

Though you weren’t being sarcastic, Damian took it that way and pinched one cheek of your ass. “With you? I will.” Then, with the same smoothness, Damian asked, “Condom?”

“Pill,” you replied, and Damian nodded his approval.

His pants rustled as they fell down his legs. Where you couldn’t see, Damian committed the sight to memory - his cock in hand, your pussy spread open, all for him. You squeaked when his hot tip touched your cooling clit, and squeaked again when it glided down your pussy and tested your opening. He knew he’d found the way when you winced.

In an unsurprising moment of compassion (for those who truly knew him), Damian kissed the top of your head and offered you his hand. “Would you like to hold it while I…?”

You took his hand and squeezed it to your chest, squeezing him closer in the process, too. “Thank you. Go slow, for this part…”

Damian complied. His sweat-sticky chest hovered warmly over your back. Even if Damian was big, you were wetter than you’d ever been in your entire life - any pain would quickly slide into pleasure. He braced himself with a deep inhale, and a hot, sharp sensation told you that he’d entered you. Where you choked in a needy gasp, Damian poured out his version of a whimper. You both held it. Then, breath by breath, you were struck with the realization that you’d been dying to feel this for weeks, for months, and only now was that heat being satisfied. Damian’s tongue and fingers had come close, but this is what would cure that aching emptiness - his big, girthy cock.

The deathgrip you had on Damian’s hand loosened. “You look perfect,” he murmured into your hair, instantly making your core flutter. “Oh,” he chuckled filthily, “you like that? Funny, how badly that idiot at the bar wanted to be in my place right now…but it’s me who gets to pound into—”

“Damian,” you warned.

He smiled smugly against your neck. “Nothing.”

Dutifully, Damian withdrew his hips, taking all of the heat with him. When he rolled back in, a hot, tingling sensation roared over all of your senses, and you let the moan at the top of that tsunami loose. It was clear that he couldn’t fuck you like he wanted to with one hand fished down at your side, so he glued both to the base of your back and started to thrust in earnest.

“So full...” You mewled, and Damian became a human pile-driver.

Your head seemed to roll off your shoulders with every crazed, rhythmic slam, so you grabbed the faucet and held on for dear life. Every slap was so loud, so powerful, that you prayed this one random bathroom in the penthouse was soundproofed. Anyone walking past would know you were getting railed out of your mind. You tried to compensate by moaning and squeaking quietly, but with force came volume. It didn’t matter how silent you were, Damian’s hips, your ass, the squelch of him inside you - each noise filled the bathroom, echoing off the tile.

The only way you could think to describe him was filling. First, there was the hot, cinching tension of his hands fused to your waist. Then there was his cock, which begged to be squeezed more and more with every pass. You responded to each throb with a mighty clench, which bent Damian over you like an animal, gasping for breath. His balls were painted with your slick. The closer you came to orgasm together, the closer Damian came to you. His hands migrated to higher on your sides, then up by your shoulders, then around you, where Damian kissed your back and rubbed your belly while he made love to you. He talked more than he moaned. Your ear was filled with sweet nothings, with vicious promises of what he would do with a whole night alone with you.

Damian’s reflection was wild with lust. He met your eyes as he fucked you, whispering how beautiful you are, how good you take his dick. His deep green eyes were so dark you couldn’t make out the brown in them anymore. The long muscles on his arms drew taut with each thrust, making his biceps bulge and pin your hips to the sink. Soon enough, a bruise would form from the pressure. One of many treasures from tonight - you would be thinking about Damian in his crisp suit for months to come, and the mess he’d become with you now even longer. Your pleasure built and built and built, like a nail struck further into the ground with a hammer. A very, very big hammer.

“M’ cumming,” Damian husked, slowing his plowing to a sloppy glide. Even his endurance was spent, and you were glad he’d spent it all on you. “Where d’ you…?”

You braced your hands on the counter, then on one of Damian’s. Together, you smoothed his digits down your stomach and between your soft, abused folds. “Inside me, please, please please—” you begged him, “fuck, a-as deep as you can go.”

As a test of your flexibility, Damian turned in and kissed you. Just as he parted your lips with his tongue, he parted your folds with his fingertips, overriding your clit as his cock throbbed inside you to the hilt. He took the invitation as a command. Damian pressed in until you could feel his abs mold to your ass, then stuttered his hips in quick, agonized dips to get himself there. With his fingers and his cock putting stars in your eyes, you finished first.

The white marble counter fizzed in your vision, until all you could see was that powerful, endless white, humming in your mind’s eye. Still, Damian wasn’t finished yet. You bumped your temple against his chin and hummed, “Cum for me, baby… fuck, a-ah!”

Your pussy’s throb raced and raced until it spilled over, pulling Damian right under the current. One clench and he was done for, so the velvety, periodic squeeze of your cunt emptied his store. You hung there, spasming in unison, until that overwhelming heat spurted in a ring around Damian’s cock and flooded out of you. Only then did his fingers stop on your clit, and you settled warmly in each other's arms and tried to remember your names and who you were.

Damian pulled out, then snuggled back in. He would’ve been nervous any other time, but he’d just put his dick inside you, so a little instinctive cuddling could be forgiven. On shaky legs, you turned around and sunk into him. You could tell by how he was eyeing the sink that he was desperate to get clean again, so with one kiss (on the cheek), you set Damian loose.

In companionable silence, Damian cleaned up and you collected the clothes abandoned on the floor. Staring at the corner where you’d just had the best sex of your life put an embarassingly pleasant warmth in your chest. Interesting, how one terrifying moment could become something as special as this. Fascinating, how you’d felt like you’d known him all your life.

“You know… I think you’re excellent, too.” You told him, finishing off the knot for his tie.

Damian dipped his head to hide his smile, but something so bright was impossible to hide.

[imagininghierophant]

If it's not too much to ask may i have a crusaders comfort hcs please?

Like trying to comfort their s/o from sensory overload and anxiety. Joseph you can do platonically.

Thanks. Also i hope you have a great day and stay safe. ^_^

👏 We stan comfort hcs here! 👏

I really enjoyed writing up this request! This is probably the most I’ve written in a while and I quite enjoyed myself. ^^  Much love to you my dearest!   -Bambi 🦌 

[WARNING:] Sensory overload / Anxiety attack writings under the cut

The Crusaders comforting their S/O from Anxiety/Sensory Overload.

⭐ Jotaro Kujo ⭐

► Jotaro rarely feels anxious. So when he walks in on you slumped over on your bed and sees you shaking and hears your hyperventilating breaths, he finds it hard to relate to how you're feeling; however, he understands it's not right for anyone to be going through this feeling. No one does. His first course of action would be never to leave your side until your head is clear. Even if you try to tell him you're okay, good luck; Jotaro is stubborn and won't leave you alone with those haunting thoughts.

►  "Don't give me that bullshit." He will hiss if you try to convince the man you're doing fine. The red hue and puffiness in your complexion tell him a different story. Jotaro would place his hand on your back and ask you to breathe, take your time. If you wear any heavy clothing like a jacket or heavy jewellery, he would ask you to take it off, hoping to remove any unnecessary sensory input that you don't realise.

► Once you've soothed down a little, Jotaro will head off to fetch you your favourite comfort items, like your main interest or snacks. Even if he is not interested in those things, he would adore seeing you enjoy the things you love and beam with positive energy again. Best if you don't comment on his actions cause the man will tilt his cap and walk away otherwise.

🍒 Noriaki Kakyoin 🍒

► His first occurrence with sensory overload was with a large crowd. Everything was too much. Even the most superficial noise made your skin feel on fire. When Kakyoin looked over to see you were shaking, unable to move away from the setting. He saw your eyes puffy and red like you were close to breaking down any second. He read the scene like an open book; He knew he had to get you out of there as soon as possible. 

► Even when your body stood frozen, Kakyoin helped you guide you through the room to the nearest exit, where it was the least populated. He could tell you weren't comfortable in that room, and it wouldn't be a good idea to let you sit and suffer in silence. You couldn't tell, but he was worried about you. "Hey, I know a good spot; I want to show you something." He would say, trying to distract you from the racing thoughts in your mind. 

► After getting away from the setting, he would take off his green gakuran coat and drape it over your shoulders, asking if someone bothered you or said something to hurt you. Drying away your salty tears, profusely apologising for ruining the evening with your outburst, Kakyoin reassures you that you did nothing wrong. He would rather spend time with you than with company he doesn't know. "Let's chill here before heading back; I hate crowds, too." He murmurs, leaning in to kiss your forehead. He wasn't going to let you handle this alone. He knows how terrifying being alone with your thoughts can be.  

🗡️ Jean Pierre Polnareff 🗡️

► Polanreff would be the person to catch your anxiety signs later on. Were you not responding to his stories? He would assume you're happy just listening. You're not eating your parfait that you always order at the café you visit? He takes you are not hungry. It finally clicks when he looks up from his latte to see the tears and shakiness in your hands. "Mon amour, what happened?" 

► This man would try his best to soothe you with words, telling you you're safe; if sensory overload/panic attacks are an often occurrence with you, Polnareff has his specialities to calm you. His first course of action would be to get you out of there, passing you a handkerchief and reaching his hand out to you.

► The world for you is a constant static blur; your skin is emotionless, and you feel like the world will end. If it weren't for Polnareff walking you home, hand in hand, sharing his standard inside jokes and being his usual self, you would be so lost. Since he's a pretty confident person, he tries his best to cheer you up without making it worse. "You did great today; you deserve a lot of forehead kisses when we get home...well if you want that."

🔥 Muhammad Avdol 🔥

► Avdol would begin to notice the first symptoms when he's chatting away with you in your home; He catches you going silent, giving minimum reaction to his inputs and takes. He would keep an eye on you at the side before interrupting, hoping that the moment would pass. As soon as he sees you burst into tears, Avdol is there to reassure you.

► "Hang on, love; I'll be back in just a moment." He would say, heading towards the kitchen to get you some water. Avdol is quite understanding and doesn't take it to heart. He's aware that anxiety is just more than what's happening on the surface. When the mind tends to wander, negative thoughts can become overwhelming. 

► Once you've had a few sips of water, Avdol would pull you tight to his chest without saying a word, gently rubbing small circles on your back, hushing you, comforting you that everything is okay and people have bad days. "Shh, It's okay. You don't have to explain yourself. I love you. I'm here." 

✈️ Joseph Joestar ✈️ [Platonic]

► We can all agree that Joseph has a loving, caring side when it comes to family and friends; you're no exception. He noticed that you were very fidgety when everyone got together to chat about your next course of action. So when you suddenly got up and ran away from Jotaro and the other crusaders without uttering a word, Joseph heeded your trail, subtlety calling for you.

► To Joseph's astonishment, he finds you slumped against the wall, knees brought up to your chest as you sat on the cold floor, crying your heart out. He considers you a vital team member, so this is a surprise and somewhat a relief. Showing sadness or destress is just a part of being human. Joseph would gently settle next to you. "Hey, What's up? Was it Polnareff with his nonsense again?" 

► His father-like instincts would play a good role in this scenario, just allowing you to vent all the thoughts you had bottled up in your mind. Joseph has all the time in the world for you. Rubbing circles on your back, he'll let you listen to his cassettes if he has his walkman on him. Once you've simmered down a bit, He'll start to head back, giving you some space to clear your mind. "I'll be heading back; You just follow when you're ready, okay."

[nientedal]

@silvergryphonart

Yes! It is VERY helpful for me, now that I am getting better at recognizing when I am the kind of agitated that requires me to use meditation to calm down.

For this technique, you will need a few things:

Something to see. (Or maybe touch, if you're visually impaired.) An interesting object, something complicated to look at. I use a clear-ish citrine orb i got as a gazing ball-- it has perpendicular inclusions that look a bit like a golden pine forest if you use your imagination.

Something to hear. (I can't think of an equivalent for if you're hard of hearing, I'm sorry. Maybe a rhythmic vibration of some kind?) A song you can tune out, or calm words to listen to, or a good noise. For songs, I use this one because it matches really well with the rate at which I need to breathe to calm down. Words pull too much of my focus for this to really work for me, but you could use ASMR sounds or a guided meditation track or really anything as long as it doesn't call too much of your focus!

Something to remember (or envision). A comfortable place to think about. I use my favorite camping spot, because it is a place where I'm always relaxed (or at least where I've never had an anxiety attack, lol). You could use the beach, or a friend's house, or an imaginary setting, anywhere as long as you associate it with good things. This doesn't have to be a "happy place," just a place you'd go if you could.

If it's REALLY bad that day, a physical sensation also helps. This is why I went to the bath-- I like water. You could use an ice cube to roll around in your mouth, or a hot mug of tea to hold, or a pet to pat, or moving your bare feet back and forth on carpeting. Or even just sitting in the sun or in front of a fan or something.

Get into a comfortable position for you and focus your vision on your interesting object. Notice its edges and curves, how the light reflects or refracts or is absorbed into it. Notice its colors and shadows, the way it changes or doesn't change when you turn it over and around. What does it reflect? Is it heavy? Rough, smooth? (Basically we are playing "what does that cloud look like" if you could also touch the cloud.)

Focus your hearing on the sound you've chosen, and focus your perception of your internal body on your lungs as much as possible, and on breathing.

While still playing "what does that cloud look like," count to a number while inhaling. Then exhale for a number. I use four for both because it fits well with my song. I've heard some people come down at the end of their sessions by exhaling for six and then for eight-- I tend to forget to do this.

As you are doing all of this, think of your comfortable place. What makes it comfortable for you? Why would you return, if you could? What was the air like? Were there sounds? Smells? What colors do you remember most?

If you need to, focus your perception of your external body on whatever physical sensation you've chosen. For me today it was where the surface of the water moved on my skin, for me next time it might be where I am the most warm under the sun.

Perceive. Breathe. Remember. These are your main focal splits: they will ideally help get your head into a grounded memory of safety, and your self into a body that isn't being chased by slow tigers of anxiety. Do all of these at once if you can, but don't force it! It's ok if you're like "ah, shit, I stopped thinking about my comfortable place so i could count and breathe." Go back to your comfy place as you remember to do so. Count as you remember to do so. There's no wrong way to be in a brain that needs to be doing many things at once! It's all fine. If you realize "hey this part isn't doing it for me, i hate counting, I'll just do Deep Breaths and that'll be fine for me," do that! You will probably eventually find your mind wandering-- this is fine as long as where it's wandering isn't hurting you. If it is, you may have too many splits or too few. Or you may just need to practice. Or this may not be for you! That's ok too!

I always scorned meditation because I thought it was all just "sit still with your eyes closed and clear your mind." I have can't-clear-my-mind disorder! That doesn't work for me!!! So when my then-brand-new therapist said, on Zoom, "let's close out our session with meditation," i was like "Oorrrr we could NOT do that, because I can't clear my mind." And she was like, "Well, we don't have to. It's up to you! But we aren't going to clear your mind, we're going to fill it and split it. You wanna try? Cool, go get something interesting to hold and look at." And she walked me through my comfy place while I pondered my orb and breathed, and that was where we started.

Today was bad. I needed a couple extra splits today. But the important ones are: thing to look at and think about, comfy place to think about, breathing to think about. Without a guide, I use counting and music to stay on track, but......point is, if you're neurospicy, holy shit do NOT try to clear your mind when you're bugging out. Instead, fill your mind with things you control, and fill your body with things you control, and split your focus as many ways as YOU need to. I'm not an expert, but this has legit helped a TON every time I have needed to do it. Next time your brain is full of weasels, try grabbing the nearest thing and pondering it as hard as you can! while breathing!

Good luck!

screaming! medication withdrawal symptoms are starting/have started and i'm! not doing great!

SO we have reached what i suspect would ordinarily be the mild suicidal ideation part of the concerta withdrawal.

fun!

thankfully i am on antidepressants this time, which do seem to be doing THEIR job so far, so mostly my brain is just on fire and i aaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA, screaming! screaming! screaming! very not good! slept like shit two nights ago because digestion reasons, slept 5 hours full of anxiety dreams about my probably-dying fish last night, it's 8 in the fucking morning and i wanna sleep but my brain WILL NOT slow down and i am going to THROW MYSELF INTO THE SUN

this too shall pass, this too shall pass, but goddamn, i put in a refill request on June 17th and have been rationing ever since and NOW i find out, NOW i find out from my pharmacy, that they never even RECEIVED the refill request, but it wouldn't make a difference anyway now because they do not have concerta in stock, so! yay! fucking whee!

energy drinks my FUCKING beloveds, at this point i think actual cocaine might be easier to come by, i'm going to try zzzquil tonight and see if that does literally fucking anything lmao

IN THE MEANTIME

i am gonna treat this as an anxiety attack and go have a bath and ponder my meditation orb (big BIG thank you to my therapist for teaching me a meditation technique for brains that require multiple focal splits, fucking godsend, lemme tell you) and then i am gonna make a list of everything stressing me out. and then i am going to DROWN MYSELF IN CAFFEINE, ahaha, lolsob, why is my fish so sick i am going to miss her.