#im still not trying anything against my existence

[imjustaf444keriguess]

okay, im gonna react to each of these separately, if i miss any important details in any of the studies or sources feel free to correct me. also at times i use just DID to refer to traumagenic and disordered systemhood, but note that i count the OSDD1 presentations and any similar complex dissociative disorder with self-presentations / plurality the same as DID in this post.

the first one seems to talk about dissociation in general, and how it presents over many dissociative disorders. it mentions a "trauma model" and a "taxon model" vaguely, and then goes to talk about dissociative disorders exclusively after. this doesn't prove or disprove possible non-pathological forms of plurality and systemhood, and i can't tell if they're on the side of "it's solely dissociation" or if it's a "we believe there's two different kinds of dissociation" here

The Trauma Model posits that dissociation is a psychobiological state or trait that functions as a protective response to traumatic or overwhelming experiences.4 Dissociation is most commonly conceptualized as a continuum from normal to pathological, with states of intense absorption, like spacing out while driving and missing an exit at one end, and severe dissociative disorders like DID at the other. Research supports an alternative: the Taxon Model positing two continua: normal and pathological dissociation.5 The latter comprises a distinct group of highly traumatized individuals—about 3.5% of the general population—who endorse a specific cluster of symptoms consistent with severe dissociative psychopathology such as DID.

i mentioned in my other reblog a quote from the authors of the TOSD saying that non-disordered multiplicity and dissociation (like that with mediums and hypnosis) is potentially possible and needs to be studied, so just saying that there's a trauma model of dissociation is like... yeah? there's clearly non-pathological form of dissociation too, though. depends on what you're classifying as dissociation thugh (like, is reading a novel dissociation?)

the next one is from "thepsychpractice.com", which is not really a resource i'd trust to be truly unbiased. it's also about DID only, not proving non-traumagenic plurality impossible. we also know it's possible to create alters and to influence them, and alters can change their internalized identity. they, in a sense, CAN choose their name, age, gender, etc. it's just not something another alter can change for that alter.

the next one is also from DID-research, which, again, is about DID. nothing on that page says anything about how non-traumagenic systems and plurals can't exist, it's just some med students large-carrd at the end of the day (a good and generally informative page about DID still, but not directly a source to say "non-traumagenic systems don't exist).

i don't have time to focus and watch a tiktok, trying to focus on an auditory input right now would probably make my brain explode, but i bet that user has a decently good summary for DID systems. tiktok is not a source to disprove endogenic systems though. the existence of DID systems and trauma-formed systems are also not proof against endogenic systems and endogenic plurality.

another .com site that seems to be summarizing DID for the laymen like the psych practice. beachsideteen.com is probably not made by the cutting-edge scientists, i'd guess. it does seem to agree with most average people on its facts and is against fakeclaiming, somewhat, but again it's not really a source that's debunking endogenic plurality.

it also uses integration instead of final fusion in its wording, which many people would say is wrong (as integration is just connecting the parts, final fusion is the full merging of parts, and functional multiplicity is still being separate "selves" while lowering the dissociation barriers between parts.

also, with tiktok and other social media platforms, different alters can switch in and choose to create videos and such. while this is not the same as the "switching on camera" trend they mentioned specifically, it is similar where people fakeclaim others for switching to create a video together as a system- which is entirely possible because alters can front, they can communicate, and they can have interests outside of the trauma (and they SHOULD, since life is not JUST trauma and even traumagenic alters deserve to be silly and have fun). that's not entirely related to the topic at hand, but is important to note. alters are ,at their core, still people (or at LEAST parts of a person), they still have the ability to want to feel joy and have fun. sometimes, they want to use tiktok to be silly and have fun. i don't get it because i hate tiktok but thats due to me hating tiktok, not all shortform video content creation.

yet another .com site (traumadissociation.com) that only talks about DID. it DOES mention maladaptive daydreaming, but that's a separate (proposed) disorder, and doesn't really relate to endogenic plurality's validity or not. it's the same as mentioning BPD and its similarities to some DID experiences,

this one is ALSO a .com site but seems to actually show a study(? paper?) talking about DID and its presentation. while my simple skimming through doens't show anything that says "multiple 'sentient' self states is only possible through trauma, it does show a pretty good perspective on DID systems and why they might form. i'll read this one better later, but i don't think it's good evidence to disprove endogenic plurality itself (again, the existemce of traumagenic plurality and DID systemhood is not evidence against the idea that non-traumagenic plurality and non DID systemhood can exist)

and... that's it. a few resources on DID specifically, and only two are "valid" sources. and, as far as i can read, the sources don't say that endogenic plurality is not possible, they're just talking about DID and dissociation in a pathological sense.

("valid' here as in "could be a source that i'd read that would prove endogenic plurality and systemhood impossible," as most or even all of these sources are good for DID specifically, and some are good for singlets to read at a glance or for some newly-diagnosed DID systems to read to understand their experience better and give words to their experiences)

if i missed any specific points in the first and last links that do have direct statements against endogenic (non-disordered / trauma-based) plurality, do point them out as well. i am human and could have missed something!

whoever changed the endogenic wiki page just know i love you and ur the best

[seaweedstarshine]

Sometimes I think of Amy Pond, who grew up being called mad by those who wielded the word as a tool of exclusion and shame —

Amy Pond, who though forced into the hands of four psychiatrists, still clung to that which they called madness until those systems which elevate psychosocial conformity above humanity stripped it from her —

Amy Pond, whose imaginary friend reappeared for a single hour after twelve years and reignited that faith before disappearing for two more years —

Amy Pond, who spent those those two years under the same implicit threat ingrained in her through psychiatric violence, and thus began to believe the man who stopped the invasion was “just a madman with a box,” only for him to agree, and to also call her “mad, impossible Amy Pond,” reframing madness as non-negative for the first time in her life —

Amy Pond, who ignored the disembodied voice of her imaginary friend even as she ran away with him for real, who still lived each day with the traumatic internalization of deviancy dictated upon her by the psychiatric-industrial complex that shaped her from childhood —

Amy Pond, who wouldn't acknowledge the Doctor's voice, such that it took an Angel in her eye that was literally killing her to ensure she couldn't reality check herself —

Amy Pond, who stood before a room which muttered about “the psychiatrists we brought her to,” and though afraid, escaped their rigid parameters of acceptable existence.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[bmpmp3]

genbu ai has been found dead in miami.

[toytulini]

would be cool this yr to do like first aid training maybe?

[phagodyke]

ahh.. I have tickets for a small music festival tmr which I went to last year + had a whale of a time but this year theres only like 2 artists I wanted to see but they released the schedule a couple days ago and neither are playing before 9:30pm. since I don't live local anymore I'd have to leave to travel back home around that time or I'd miss the last train... and there's not rly anywhere I can crash overnight there (and I was planning on going alone anyway like I did last year). so I think im gonna have to let this one pass me by :-(

[omgeto]

☆ WHEN YOU HAVE SEX WITH YOUR EX — GOJO, GETO, TOJI

summary: you have sex with your ex. thats it.

cw: afab!reader, smutty smut smut so mdni. unprotected sex with all of them (since I forget that condoms exist) you sit on geto face, kinda finger fucking & mild hate fucking with toji but its fun, and gojo is just lovely.

an: i was meant to post this last night but I fell asleep writing geto's part so slay. anyways I hope you enjoy lmk what you think!! not proofread so ignore any mistakes please.

☆ GOJO

“this doesn’t mean we’re back together y’know,” you remind gojo, panting as he thrusts into you.

“you’re really saying that with my dick deep in your cunt,” he taunts, admiring the deep arch of your back, the way your ass ripples every time his hips drive into you. “i’ve missed this.”

“f-fuck keep going,” you moan out, as his dick hits your spot – just how you like it.

“so you don’t miss me?” he pesters, and you roll your eyes, as although you couldn’t see him, you just knew he had a pout on his face. “you really don’t miss me?” he continues his thumb making way to your clit, swiftly flicking at it.

“i don’t miss you.”

gojo pulls out of you almost defiantly, pushing you down – turning you around your back. he stares at you with something you couldn’t quite place, and re enters you just as quickly. he smirks at the way your mouth gapes as his hands roughly grab at your tits, pinching and pulling on your nipples.

“s-someone’s mad,” you egg on, loving the way that his strokes become harder.

“y’know the reason i always loved fucking you this way when we were together?” he asks with a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“what’s with the trip down memory lane?,” you complain, your arms come around his neck as you take him in deeper, “i called you to fuck me, not for whatever you’re tryna do here.”

“because i always got to see all the faces you make,” he continues, completely ignoring your comment, his tongue drags up the side of your jaw, before pressing a quick kiss just under your ear. “and the face your making right now, tells me, that you're lying.”

you scoff, but didn’t say anything because you knew he was right. you did miss the way he’d plough into you, the way he knew the ins and outs of your body – how to please you. “im gonna cum,” you whine out, “satoru please i need yo–”

“you can cum when you admit the truth babe,” he teases, his strokes purposefully shift speed, still keeping you writhing underneath him but just not quite enough to get you there. “just say you miss me.”

“fine,” you force out, exasperated, “i m-miss you i do.”

“see wasn’t so hard, was it?” he kisses you deeply, driving deep into you, and you cum with a cry, you did miss being this close with your ex boyfriend. gojo is quick to finish after you, filling you up with all his cum.

he eventually pulls out of you, collapsing down on the bed next to you pulling you into his hold. you, against your better judgement, relaxing into his arms – which goes against all the rules of sleeping with your ex. “this still doesn’t mean we’re back together,” you add, knowing there was very little truth to that.

“yeah, yeah, whatever you say babe,” he smirks, his lips coming down to your forehead, placing a soft kiss, “so what did you miss about me?”

☆ TOJI

“i thought you didn’t spin the block, princess,” toji asks with a shit-eating grin, as his fingers slip inside of you “what happened to, ‘once an ex always an ex huh?” 

“i’ve always hated that nickname,” you mumble, hissing at the contact of toji’s fingers toying with your pussy, “and there are some exceptions to my rule.”

“so you’re little boyfriends not hitting it right then,” toji grins, pleased at hearing that he was the ‘exception,’ “if you’re here, slutting yourself out on my fingers.” 

“no he’s hitting it greatly,” you smirk, not rising to toji’s comments since you know what he was trying to get at, “i just missed you, that's all.”

“oh so you really have a boyfriend then?” he snapped, his fingers curling up in you.

“no i don't,” a smug smile appears on your face as you see toji’s smirk drop, “but it’s cute that you care though. are you jealous, toji?”

“shut up,” he says moodily, swiftly removing his fingers out of you, pulling you onto his lap.

you straddle him, your face inches from his, “aww are you mad toji?” you taunt with a mock pout. you’ve always loved getting a rise out of toji, you know your ex boyfriend very well, the more pissed off he was, the harder he fucked.

“sit on it,” he commands, the ‘it’ in question being his hard dick that he was furiously stroking at the sight of you. there was something about you that got on toji’s nerves – hence why you didn’t last long as a couple – but that special something was good for times like this. where you could both unleash any pent up energy you have, on eachother.

you welcome his dick eagerly, practically jumping on it, the wetness of your pussy was inviting. his dick slotted in perfectly, making you both curse at the contact. “fuck, you always feel so good,” he praises, loving the feeling of you clenching around his dick whilst you ride him.

there was a forcefulness coming from the both of you, as you were fucking each other as if you had something to prove, as if there was some unspoken competition to see who could get the other to cum first.

“f-fuck,” you mutter, the feeling of toji’s dick pistoning into you becoming too much.

“whats that princess?” toji mocks, grinning seeing your eyes gloss over, he could tell that your dick-stuffed cunt was about to release all over him, “y’gonna cum for me?”

you ignore him, continuing your mission to get toji to fold first. you manoeuvre your lips to his neck, kissing and sucking on his exposed flesh, and he takes a sharp inhale – bingo. you knew toji’s body as well as he knew yours, and he was always was weak for the way you’d nibble and bite on his neck as he fucked you dumb.

“are you gonna cum for me?” you mock mirroring his question, his strokes was getting sloppier, you could tell he was close. but you were not far behind, squirming in his lap about to reach your climax.there were no words that needed to be spoken as you and toji both cum together, your cunt too overloaded with both of your cum, making it drip out all over his dick.

“we should do this again sometime princess,” toji suggests, as you eventually hop off his dick and start putting back on your clothes, “you always know to fuck me right.”

“i’ll think about it,” you conclude, knowing that you’ll probably be back in less than a week, “and stop calling me that fucking nick name,” you say as you leave the room, the only response you hear being toji’s howling laughter.

☆ GETO

if there was one thing that you couldn’t deny your ex boyfriend had, it was his head skills. everytime without fail, he could have you sprawled out on any surface as his tongue laps your pussy. 

“s-shit, you’ve always been way too good at this,” 

“only, to please you,” he hums, pressing a soft kiss to your thigh, before going back to sucking on your clit. your hands knot his hair, pulling and tugging as he works on your folds. he loves it when you play in his hair, showing that he’s getting what he’s aiming for – giving you pleasure. 

your moans only encourage him to toy with your pussy harder, nipping and biting as your thighs clench around his head. he’s been at this for ages, tonguing your cunt for as long as possible, as if to see how long he’d be able to go. 

“sugu ‘m gonna cum,” you cry, pressure building up inside of you, “please let me cum.”

but he doesn't. ignoring your request completely, geto removes his mouth off of you. his lips were practically shining, coated in all the juices from your pussy.  “you know there was one thing we never got to do when we were together,” he starts to say, eyeing with a mischievous smile,

“which is…” you prompt, slightly upset at the lack of stimulation you were getting at your, now throbbing, pussy.

“you never sat on my face,” he utters just above a whisper, licking his lips at the thought of it. 

“but what if I—“

“don’t worry about any of that,” he murmurs, pushing himself further back on the bed, his eyes still focused on you, “come sit.”

you slowly work your way up his body, the mischief in his eyes making you feel excited. you pause, straddling his chest, your hands rest on his shoulders, “are you sure about this?”

“girl if you don’t–” he starts to say, but the rest of his sentence is muffled as he pulls you onto his face, his mouth enveloping your pussy. your hands immediately grip onto the headboard in front of you, as his tongue gives long strokes to your wet pussy, lapping up all the juices spilling from you. 

you were riding his face, your hips moving back and forth against his mouth with his head sandwiched between your thighs. “f-fuck sugu, it’s too much,” you moan out, throwing your head back. 

he grins in response, his hands gripping your ass pushing you onto his mouth deeper. he couldn’t get enough of you, the way you taste, the sweet scent of your pussy that he practically inhales, burying his nose in it.

“s-shit,” you curse, as your cunt explodes onto your ex’s face. you pause, catching your breath, still feeling the pleasurable high he just gave you. he still had his mouth on your pussy, eating up all the cum that was dripping out of you.

“hey suguru, wanna go and–” you turn to see gojo burst into the room, “oh shit, yn? are you two back together?” you scramble off of geto’s face, giving gojo the hardest glare for interrupting. 

“satoru, can’t you see that im busy,” geto chuckles, his mouth still covered with your cum, “im eating here.”

“right…” gojo nods, “i’ll leave you two too it,” but just before he leaves the room you here him yell, “im gonna tell everyone you’re back together.” you both chuckle at your friends antics, and geto pulls you back into him.

“get back on,” he smirks, “who said i was done?”

AN: so there we go. I love geto's part so much but maybe im biased idk. but yeahhh hope you enjoy the thoughts that I had at like 7 am. DIVIDERS BY @/CAFEKITSUNE

[amazinglyashy]

HI I LOVE ur lads headcanons ‼️ idk if u do angst but im feeling some angsty/hurt/comfort........... can i pls request the lads men's reaction to the reader rejecting their confession bc we think they deserve better...... someone who doesn't have a heart condition (like the mc) or something........

Oh my gosh, thank you so much!! And oh man, I love angst and hurt/comfort, as long as I get to give it a tiny bit of hope/a happy ending! I felt this one though, I've thought about it before with my own MC…….. a few dozen times- Hope you enjoy, and thank you for the request! <3

Love and Deepspace Li’s reactions to you rejecting their confession due to feelings of inadequacy

Rafayel -

Rafayel is… surprised, to say the least.

Not only do you not have any memory of him or the things you did together- the things you did to him- but you also are straight up turning him down when he finally realized that he needs to confess to you all over again.

He's pretty upset.

It'll definitely turn into an argument, and you know he's hurt. Damn, you're hurt too, just having to turn him down. He makes you feel something, like you're special. Like you're everything to him. Like you're not…

Broken.

And it'll come out eventually. Maybe not blatantly so, but in small ways, your feelings of inadequacy will start to leak through the cracks that are forming in your resolve as you try to refuse a man who has already been refused his love by fate and prophecy for far too long.

And somehow, that makes it so much worse. Because he can fight fate, he can go against the currents of time and the ever evolving cruelty of human nature. But he can't do anything about the feelings raging inside your own head.

He's sure going to try though.

Angrily but calmly, he will start firing off things he has done for you, just because he's loved you so much, throughout all of your time together and even before. He doesn't know if it'll make it worse, make you feel like he already does too much for whatever it is you see yourself as, but he's going to do it anyway. And slowly, it'll start forming into the things you two do together- the things you've done for him when he needs you.

And you're going to be there a while, because until you start to realize, until he starts to chip away at that dark feeling in the deepest reaches of your mind and heart, he's not going to let up.

Not now, not ever.

Sylus -

He's a bit taken aback, but he's not particularly surprised. He had seen this coming, mentally prepared himself for it, even. He knew after his treatment of you when the two of you had just met again for the first time, that any sort of official relationship between you two would be tricky to get to. Especially putting an actual label on it.

He'll be a lot more surprised when he reads between the lines at your words, and realizes it's not because you're still scared of him, but because you don't think you're good enough for him.

"You can't be serious, sweetie."

He's not going to force you to accept his confession, but regardless of how timid or aggressive you become, whether you escalate it vocally or try to exit the conversation, he's not arguing with you. He pretty much refuses to, as he instead begins to state snarky facts as he crosses his arms, watching your reactions as he does.

"When you patched my wounds a month ago, was I not deserving of your hands caring for me because they were shaky and belonging to you? How about that girl you muttered about that we saw at the café who was mad at her boyfriend to the point of shouting, when he didn't get her the right cake she wanted? Are you saying you're worse than her? Helping me on jobs simply because you want to exist near me is… not good enough for me?"

"Sylus, that's not what I'm saying-"

"Oh don't worry sweetie. I know exactly what it is you're saying. I just know it's a particularly misinformed, self loathing thought for you to be having. Don't you think it's insulting for you to decide who I give my love to? After every calculated decision you have witnessed me make?"

He'll finally soften, reaching out a hand to gently rest on the side of your neck, his thumb brushing against your cheek in a gentle back and forth.

"You don't need to be concerning yourself with what I deserve in a partner. You should have faith in my opinions, if not for yourself, but for your confidence in me, sweetie. After that, the rest is up to what you truly want in your heart."

Zayne -

His reaction is definitely the most reserved initially, especially until he realizes why exactly you're turning him down.

He definitely has the passing thought that maybe you're just misunderstanding him again, just like back with the snow seals when the two of you were still kids.

When he realizes that's not the case, and instead, it's your own internalized feelings, he's first a bit relieved, and secondly- pretty perturbed.

"It's interesting to know that's your perspective, given how much you enjoy those fictional stories with ironic pairings. I would think that it would be the most romantic thing for a heart patient to be in a relationship with a cardiac surgeon.

His biting but well-meaning quips aside, he's not quite sure how to break it to you that he used to be in a similar boat, and still is to some capacity. Which is partly why he's a bit upset to understand your perspective.

He's genuinely surprised you haven't processed the timeline of the two of you and your lives. Your accident that caused the state of your heart, his leaving to study medicine and become a specialist in cardiology and a renowned cardiac surgeon- are you not able to see that it's not an inadequacy for him, but his own lack of knowledge when you first started having issues made himself feel inadequate? Why he left without a word for years in the first place?

And not just that- it also applies to other fields too. He has no issues helping you where you need him, because he knows the extent of your capabilities, much like he knows his own. And he will spend forever if he needs to, to show you that loving is not about who does more. It's about doing what your partner needs, no matter how much or how little that is, and loving each other through every hard moment.

And you're about to hear every ounce of his convincing, opinions, and own feelings, until you start to see. Until you finally see.

Xavier -

Unless you tell it to him straight, he's not going to know why you rejected him. He'll be hurt, but he'll accept your rejection graciously and politely, before trying to figure out just how to get you to accept it.

There's an increase in claw machine dates, movie night invitations, and how much he helps you with missions or even just around your apartment. Eventually, you process the weird behavior and you're all but forced to confront him on really truly why you rejected him.

It's Xavier, so you try to play it off as a lighthearted situation or a joke, but you can see his expression darkening, and you're not sure if it's because of him being upset at your words, or realizing just how much time he has sunk into you with how... broken of a person you are.

Turns out, it's the former!

It's hard to not realize such, as he's pulling you into the tightest hug he's probably ever grabbed you into.

For a while, it's just you and him standing there, with him squeezing you tightly and you not knowing what to do with your hands or the lump rising in the back of your throat. He doesn't really know what to say, but he does know he needs to say something.

"I'll definitely make you see that you're more than enough for me."

"Xavier- that's not how this work-"

"I know, and I don't care. I- I need you to know that you're everything to me. You're not inadequate, or broken, or anything you've been telling yourself. You're more than enough. You're more than everything to me. And I'm not going anywhere until you finally understand that."

[with-my-calamitous-love]

WOULD YOU TELL ME TO GO FUCK MYSELF?

bakugou katsuki x reader

part 3/3, part 1, part 2

a month after your breakup, you open the door for katsuki.

reminder that love is not a substitute for forgiveness. this is simply a work of fiction 🪽

inspired by betty

katsuki (do not answer) : have i told you that enough? that i love you?

katsuki (do not answer): im sorry

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you i love you enough

katsuki (do not answer): for not telling you how god damn pretty you are

katsuki (do not answer): for not buying you flowers

katsuki (do not answer): for not treating you how i should have

katsuki (do not answer): i know i messed up

katsuki (do not answer): but i wanna make it right

katsuki (do not answer): you're my whole fucking world

katsuki (do not answer): and i do love you

katsuki (do not answer): so open the door, im outside

✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚ ☾ .⭒˚ ✧.* ✧.* ⋆.˚

you stared at the texts. evident by the shadow behind your door, he was indeed standing outside your apartment.

the swirl of emotions in your heart threatened to climb up your throat and spill from your mouth at the thought of seeing his face. you should tell him to fuck off. you should send him crying. you should tell him how shitty he is and how stupid he is to come here seeking your forgiveness. you should be smart about this.

but you’re not.

your shaky hand rests on the doorknob, threatening to twist it and see his face at any given moment. but you hesitate, because of course you do. you’re sweaty and emotional and terrified. your hearts been through too much to go through more. how much more were you willing to endure?

just on the other side, katsuki rested his forehead against the wooden door, as if trying to feel your presence from behind. god, he misses you. he’d do anything just to see your face again. the worst thing he has ever done was what he did to you. and the only thing he wants to do is make it up to you.

he wonders if you’ll have him. if you’ll still want him.

and he isn’t sure what scares him more- your answer or your lack of one.

and just as he’s about to turn away, the door creaks.

he thinks his heart stops when he sees you. it doesn’t matter if your eyes are puffed up and your practically drowning in your hoodie. he is physically incapable of finding you anything less than gorgeous. his eyes are glossy, his hair is tarnished, he looks like he hasn’t slept a wink- because he hasn’t.

you sigh. this was gonna be a long night.

“…hey.” his usual gruff voice was replaced by something more sincere. he hopes you don’t notice how sore his throat is from crying.

you don’t say anything, instead opting to step aside, allowing this cheating, unfaithful bastard into your house. you watch as his crimson eyes take in the familiar surroundings, memories erupting from the beds you previously made. you wonder what he’s been up to in the past few months. it was izuku’s birthday recently- they celebrated by throwing a party. you wonder if maybe he went to that party, if perhaps he drank at that party. but you hoped his last endeavour with the liquid poison scared him away from alcohol entirely.

“is icyhot here?” he asks, cautiously. you scoff. of course thats what he wants to know. “no.” you answer, and he sighs in relief. but you almost wish shouto was here. you two never dated like katsuki and many others thought you were, but you’d be lying if you said the photos you had posted on instagram weren’t a bit suggestive. you knew they’d drive katsuki crazy, and they succeeded in fulfilling that goal.

“are you two…?” he trails off, the answer causing katsuki to have feelings he wasn’t able to confront. when you shake your head no, he decides to leave it at that. as long as its a no, he’s okay without hearing the details.

the two of you wander off to your bedroom. seeing katsuki in it makes it feel complete for the first time in months. you two sit side by side on your bed, just accepting each others existences without anything else to add. theres so many unspoken words, so many tears yet to be shed, yet it was the silence that stung the most.

“i’ve you told you this a million fuckin’ times babe but… i’m sorry. i’m so sorry.” he says, running a hand through his hair. he’s at an honest loss for words. he’s starting to think coming all this way was a mistake, especially when he sees the way you tear up over his words. god, he hates himself for this.

the worst part about seeing katsuki on your bed again was knowing that just a few months ago, he laid on some other girls bed. he took the sheets of the bed you made together and crumpled them up. he deflated the pillows and burned the headboard to ash the moment he crossed the threshold onto some other person. it broke you inside just thinking about it, thinking of the other person he kissed, he touched, he made love to. it made your stomach churn.

“do you regret it?” you shakily ask. you need to know. you need to know that he’s absolutely drowing in guilt, his heart tortured by the past. he looks at you like the answer should be obvious.

“every single day.” he proclaims. “its why… its why i has to break up with us. you deserve so much better than me, [y/n].”

you had never seen katsuki looking like such a mess. he could barely look you in the eye while making his desperate attempt to atone for his sins. and you agreed- you deserved better than him. you deserve better treatment, better love, and a better boyfriend.

and you wanted to scream at the sky, at the universe. scream at them, ask them why that person couldn’t be katsuki bakugou? it was god’s cruelest joke to make you fall in love with a bastard like him.

you look over at him. god, you wanna kiss him, touch him again. feel your bodies pressed against each other, lips on lips while his tongue explores the cavern your words erupt from. that warm, area of limbo between your lips when he ever so slightly pulls away, letting you remove his shirt over his head. you wanna hold him, skin against skin, you wanna love him.

even if it meant tasting that other girl on his lips. if you were being honest, you wanted to kiss that taste away for him.

but you couldn’t bring yourself too. not after the way your heart screamed for salvation, for milk and honey, to be loved without having to give the moon in return.

“i don’t forgive you.” you finally muster out. both of you let out a sigh, yours in relief and bakugou’s from anticipation. he knew that would be your answer, but he let himself believe otherwise.

“i know.” he says, shakily looking down, ash blonde locks hanging low. it was so, so fucking funny- what was he expecting anyway? your forgiveness?

“and. i still love you.” you cry.

“i don’t forgive you. not after what you did. i-i… i can still love you without having to forgive you right now.” your conclusion is what hurts him the most, though you both know its whats gonna have to work. you can still love him, because your heart is so utterly his, and still hate him for how he hurt you.

and for katsuki, hearing that you love him, despite everything he’s put you through, is somehow better than forgiveness.

though he is utterly flabbergasted by your words.

how you still love him is a mystery to both of you. he never wants to taste anyone else on his lips other than you. you’re the name on his lips, the chapstick he keeps in his pocket, the hoodies he puts on his pillow and the person who taught him how important heartbreak can be. he’s fucked up, and he may be the biggest fuck-up in all of japan, but this fuck-up just learned how much he loves you.

he bites his lip, not even daring to ruin the moment. he’s not sure if he’s supposed to stay or go. where does he even begin making this up to you?

but he knows what he has to say first.

“i love you too, babe.”

“oh, go fuck yourself.”

tags! 🪽

@sleepieenaps @suki0 @blue-chup @cookielovesbook-akie @ruu-https @sleepyk0dyz @poemzcheng @suksatoru @naladrawssss @theclassiccherry @sikuthealien

[door-insurance]

I’ll be honest regarding Double Exposure the journal’ UI broke my heart more so than Max and Chloe breaking up (I was never that invested I got sick of them around BtS release)

To me it just signals the death of stylization in LiS, the sketches are well made and I have nothing against the poor soul who had to draw them but this isn’t Max Caulfield’s art style

How dontnod used to draw the sketches and paint other assets was to trace over models or existing pictures and I won’t crap on the art style on the right it’s fine but I don’t think of it as a natural evolution for teenage maxs sketching style

Idk I feel like it would’ve cost less for DE to trace over photos with the character models, heck i tried it myself

i took a stock image and stuck adult max face on it, next i tried to replicate the original art style from her old journal

i used pencil/marker textured brushes from clips studio for the shading

then i basically i used an empty notebook for the background while adding in watercolors (like the og did), i did not like the grey journal pages from DE i wanted something that looked vibrant but not adolescent- I sketched random stuff and even added a white pen highlighting to stay consistent with double exposure's art design

the gold star sticker is there cause duh max is a teacher now and she's being quirky about it

My other gripe with the new journal was how barren it looked, i expect max to stick random stuff like she used to.

anyways im not trying to be a smart a33 or anything, im crazy hyper fixated on user interface design stuff and im trying to show you that you can still be stylistically consistent on a zero budget cause this only took me half an hour and zero dollars

[kroosluvr]

aftermath

ERMMM this takes place after long winter au third semester.... it could honestly vary but i think sometime btwn 5-10 yrs. sumire is abroad, akira moved back to tokyo after finishing hs/college, goro is. around

SORRY ITS 5am again so ill make this quick . again

QUICK DISCLAIMER this is kinda like a lot of me projecting LMFAOSDOGKJSDHFK@#)40 so like dont read into this tooooo much bc idk royaltrio cld be insnanely ooc here but. YEA.

started thinking abt akira constantly calling up goro and sumire even after 1) goro dies (so they think) and 2) sumire distances herself post-third sem. i elaborate on this on my shusumi fic........ sorry subtle shilling

^ tldr i think these 3 kinda drift apart after the snowglobe world crumbles, that false reality that ironically brought them so close together..... back in reality, things feel Different (but this is Our reality right? why does it feel so strange now?) and so. well its just not the same, no amtter what

the. the “the love was there. it didnt change anything. it didnt save anyone. there were just too many forces against it. but it still matters that the love was there” tumblr post

even though they loved each other and knew it too, there was also some sort of looming feeling that it won't last - but it does, still. it exists, in some meaningful sense-

akira sees and thinks about sumire and goro in everything he does, his day to day life, worries about them, wants to tell them about all he's doing, wants to hear about what they're up to. so he does so by leaving voicemails (although in this case sumire changed her number LMFAO. he does it anyway)

in the same vein, sumire thinks about all the things she'd like to tell goro, but with no address to send it to, it's useless. but she writes them anyway - more and more as a solace to herself, conversing with the memory of goro in her head, making him live on in that sense. and with akira i think it's a little more subtle. here she's trying to find a coffee shop that measures up to lebalnc, and of course she doesn't. there's only one leblanc and only one akira. but yeah like in sumire's case she kinda goes these "roundabout" ways in her Missing Them. theres also the added thing of her wanting to be more independent (from goro and akira and kasumi and tokyo and etc etc etc. also elaborated on in said fic)

goro! i think there's smth so poignant about visiting your own grave (i wrote sumire doing htis in another fic. thats an aside) hair cut, mask on, no gloves, he's a different sort of goro akechi but not really in any meaningful sense either. he's just different. sumire leaves the scarf (i think w sumire, she learns from goro like. omg im blanking on the word. LIKE reliability..? thinking realistically? smth like that.) so shes subconsciously thinks oh ill get him something useful like a scarf to keep warm (and a lil more subtle on the love aspect). akira gets him a lovely bouquet, straightforward and honest w his love/adoration, never afraid to spell it out. smth abt goro needing to live a new life now but also he keeps looking back - but this time, there's love when he looks back. there's still love

a kind of "youll always have home with me" sentiment btwn these 3. even if we never return there, youll still have a place in my heart

like "i dont think ill ever have that kind of love again. but i had it once. and even if i couldnt keep it, its still important." THIS IS HARD TO EXPLAIN

anyway tldr theres just some sentiment w royaltrio w Wanting to move on but also holding onto your past, and learning how to reconcile with the horrible parts but also the tender and lovely parts. sometimes there's stuff you gotta leave behind and grow past, grow around, even if it's good. even if it's good, you still have to push forward. <- a lesson that i'm trying to teach myself currently so thats why this is very. projecting. LMFAODSJKHJKSDKW sorry im crnge goodnight

these notes are horrible dont read these.

[artdcnaldson]

Has reader ever just had a "i have to get out" moment in the changeover universe?

Like art is trying to talk to her after sex and shes just staring at the wall re thinking her decisions.

They are very toxic and i know the reader has feelings for them so i think art would have been very smothering ir clingy if reader made any atempts at going out with another circle of friends and distancing herself

(im sorry i over analyse many situations 😭)

Anon… i love u <3 I love this messy main character bc i too would throw away my scruples for this man.

Rating: M

Word Count: 1.2k

Warnings: Toxic situationship, manipulation kinda, mild angst

Summary: You say something you shouldn’t. It messes up the fucked up equilibrium that you and Art had found in whatever you could call the relationship you had together.

FEBRUARY 2007

For Valentine’s Day, you got Art a teddy bear and a box of chocolates. He got you nothing. He wasn’t your boyfriend, so you didn’t know why you were upset about it, but you were. It stung like a fresh wound, one you could never just let be.

The two of you fucked, because that’s what you always did. The feeling of his mouth on yours, warm and tasting of mint, almost made you forgive him for not getting you anything. He called you beautiful, let his hands trace your body reverently, made you cum once, twice before he pulled you into his lap and let you sink onto him.

His forehead was against yours, breath coming in pants as you rode him, bodies pressed so close it almost felt like making love. Maybe that’s why you said it— the words tumbling out like a prayer.

I love you, Art.

He was tense, for a moment, brows furrowed slightly, before he kissed you and laid you onto your back. He pulled another orgasm from an impossible place within you, one you didn’t know existed. He came, messy on your thighs, and rolled over onto his back.

It was quiet, and you felt so far away from him. Your fingers brushed against his hand, testing, but he pulled them away and stood to redress. It was so quiet that you could hear blood pumping in your ears, like an ocean.

”You shouldn’t say stuff like that,” was what he finally said.

Your lip wobbled, just slightly. And then tears pooled on your lashline. “Sorry,” you said weakly.

“It’s fine.” But you had a sinking suspicion that you’d really fucked up. He handed you a towel, and you cleaned yourself up as best as you could while fighting frustrated tears.

”Are you leaving?” You asked. He was standing in between yours and your roommate’s bed, like he hadn’t quite decided yet. You pulled on a tee shirt and underwear and gave him a pathetic, pleading expression. ”Don’t leave, please. I didn’t mean it. We can watch a movie.”

He acquiesced, and let you cling to his side pathetically after you pulled out a portable DVD player. You split a pair of headphones and watched The Royal Tenenbaums.

Halfway through the movie, clarity hit like a lightning strike. Or maybe it was more like a sinking feeling of dread— of being neck deep in quicksand before you realize you should be crawling out.

You couldn’t keep doing this. Because Art was a dream, really. Handsome, and talented, and smarter than you’d expected him to be. And he was so sweet, when he didn’t realize that he should’ve been discouraging your affection. Or maybe he liked it, but only when it was quiet and he didn’t have to acknowledge that what he was doing was wrong.

Maybe it wasn’t wrong and it was all your own fault for wanting someone who made it clear they weren’t emotionally available. Maybe you were pressuring him into something he didn’t want and it was all unfair to him too.

It didn’t matter. It was fucking killing you.

When the movie ended, he stretched and said he’d see you in class. You nodded, smiling the sad smile of a dog unknowingly being left at the pound.

Once the sadness faded, it was replaced with a molten resentment, an anger at him and yourself over your time being wasted. He still sat next to you in class, sneaking peeks of your notes, but you ignored him as best as you could. Days passed, then a week. You started to feel human again.

A couple weekends later, you ignored the text he sent asking for you to join him at a mixer the tennis team was planning on crashing. You ignored the follow up too.

You wound up at a party on the opposite end of campus with a few girls from the service org you were in. You flirted with a new guy, felt like maybe you were worth more than a casual fuck buddy.

So the sight of him sitting at your door when you finally stumbled home was the last thing you wanted to see. All sad, slumped against your door.

He scrambled to stand, expression filled with longing. “Don’t be mad at me,” he pleaded. “I missed you so fucking bad these past few weeks. Felt like I was going crazy.”

Your heart skipped, and hammered against your ribs. You wanted to reach out and kiss that sad, longing expression off his face. You wanted to tell him to leave. It was all very confusing.

“Don’t say that, Art, please,” you said weakly, lips turning down into a frown. You tried to sidestep him, to get the keys into the door, but he pulled you against his chest.

He smelled so nice— like cologne and cinnamon gum. You gave a pathetic sigh at the warmth of him, wrapped all around you. “I missed you,” he repeated. “It’s like a part of me has been missing. I wanted to talk to you so badly, to kiss you, to watch boring movies with you.”

Annoyance and longing bubbled hot in the pit of your stomach, you had to force yourself to push him away. “You just missed having a cheerleader you could fuck whenever you felt like it.”

He frowned. “That’s not true.”

”What’s my major? What’s my favorite place on campus?” He swallowed hard, exhaling sharply through his nose. “What’s my favorite movie?”

“How would I know that?” He asked, resignation flat on his features.

You rolled your eyes. “Because I tell you about it all the time. Because I’ve taken you there. Because I made you watch it. Twice.” You finally got into your room. When you didn’t slam the door, you realized that you were aching for him to follow. You wanted him to be near you, even if you were seething.

When you turned to face him, you hated that even though you were incredibly mad, you still wanted him to just prove you wrong. To convince you that you were being crazy and he was innocent and the only problem was you being a weirdo about your feelings.

God, he was so pretty. And he looked so sad.

“I’ll try to be better,” he said. “I’ll take you on dates, and buy you flowers, and give you what you deserve.”

But you’ll never be his girlfriend. You knew it, deep down. Even as you caved and gave a sweet, sad little nod. He was across the room, holding you against his chest as you felt annoying tears slipping down your cheeks. Tears of relief, of frustration, of resignation.

“I’m not Tashi,” you said when he pressed his lips to the crown of your skull. It was annoying that he had the power to quell all of your uncomfortable emotions with a single romantic gesture. He pulled back and met your gaze, and you softened. “I know she’s always been your first pick, and I don’t blame you, but I’m not ever going to be her, if that’s what you’re waiting on.”

Something passed over his expression, briefly. “I know you’re not.” It was more of a lament than it was an attempt at comfort. “I’m not waiting on anything.”

His lips trailed down, along your jaw, at the corner of your mouth. He pulled back, looking at you expectantly. Are you going to let me?

Your lips parted softly as you kissed him with lips that tasted wet and salty. It was chaste, and sweet. He pulled back and ran his thumb along your cheekbone. “Let me hold you until you fall asleep? Please?”

It was hard to stay mad at Art Donaldson, even when you knew you really should.

Thank you for reading! If you have any requests in the Changeover universe, or otherwise send me an ask :)

[domm1etae]

OKAY WAIT HEAR ME OUT I JS HAD A IDEA. In honor of ateez nee comeback obviously.. the lyrics “you the one im tryna finish” HELLO?

SO! Yunho smut, where he js comes home from preforming the new somg, still in his suit.. then you rant abt the mv.. AND JT LEADS TO EATING U OUT!

“you the one im tryna finish”

you the one im tryna finish

yunho x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.4k

Yunho walks in fresh off the stage looking like sin in a suit, and one thing leads to another..

nsfw tags under

m/f, dom yunho, boyfriend!yunho, sub reader, post-performance, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), soft dominance, teasing, praise, thigh kisses, light possessiveness, intimate couch setting, body worship, cocky

The soft click of the door unlocking pulls your attention from the television. A rush of anticipation bubbles up as the handle turns, the familiar sound of Yunho’s steps filling the quiet apartment. When he steps inside, it’s as though the world outside ceases to exist.

Still dressed in his stage suit, he looks like he’s walked straight out of a dream. The fitted jacket hugs his broad shoulders, the dark fabric accentuating his tall frame. A few strands of his hair stick to his forehead, the remnants of sweat from hours of performing only adding to the allure. He pulls at the knot of his tie, loosening it slightly as his gaze finds you on the couch.

“Hey,” he greets, his deep voice soft and tinged with exhaustion, yet his smile is radiant.

Your heart flutters in response. “Yunho,” you call, grabbing the remote and pausing the music video you’ve been rewatching. The screen freezes on a shot of him staring into the camera with that smoldering gaze that makes your stomach twist. You point at the TV, your cheeks already warm. “We need to talk about this.”

His brow arches as he steps further into the room, slipping off his shoes by the door. “Talk about what?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone. The tie hangs loosely around his neck now, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, giving you a teasing glimpse of his collarbone.

You gesture wildly toward the screen. “This whole music video. You. The suit. The choreography. The lyrics. ‘You the one I’m tryna finish’? What the hell, Yunho?!”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, but there’s something in the way he looks at you—a flicker of intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You didn’t like it?” he teases, his tone light, though his smirk suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No, I didn’t like it,” you reply, your voice rising in faux indignation. “I loved it. Too much, in fact. Now I’m sitting here rethinking every choice I’ve ever made and wondering how I’m supposed to live my life after—”

Your words falter as Yunho crosses the room, his long strides bringing him to the couch in seconds. He drops down beside you, the cushions sinking under his weight, and leans closer, one arm draping along the backrest behind you. His presence is overwhelming, his cologne still clinging faintly to his skin.

“Go on,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “I’m listening.”

Your throat feels dry as you look at him. The way he’s watching you, his lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes half-lidded and dark with amusement—it’s too much. You try to summon your earlier indignation, but it’s hard to focus when he’s this close.

“You—” you start, your voice faltering as his hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline.

“Me?” he prompts, tilting his head. His voice is teasing, but his touch is anything but. His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your face toward him.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours. The kiss is sudden, stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s not gentle—there’s a heat to it, a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively find the front of his shirt, clutching the fabric as you let yourself get lost in him. The world outside fades, your earlier rant forgotten as his lips move against yours, coaxing soft whimpers from your throat.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His eyes search yours, a mix of desire and something deeper swirling in their depths.

“You’re the one I’m tryna finish,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

The words send a wave of heat crashing through you, and before you can process them, he’s moving. His hands slide down to your thighs, tugging you effortlessly into his lap as he leans back against the couch cushions. His large hands spread over your legs, his thumbs drawing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

“You’ve been thinking about me all night, haven’t you?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with something possessive.

You want to argue, but the way his hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he leans down to press a kiss to your neck, steals any coherent thought from your mind. “Y-Yunho—”

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of your shorts. He shifts, laying you back against the cushions as he kneels between your legs. His eyes roam over you, dark and filled with intent, as he tugs your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving you bare beneath his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice soft yet filled with reverence. His hands glide up your thighs, spreading them apart as he lowers himself, his breath hot against your skin.

The first press of his lips against your inner thigh has your heart racing, and when his tongue flicks out to tease you, you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips. Yunho hums in approval, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

He doesn’t rush, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that leave you trembling beneath him. His lips close around your clit, and the sensation is enough to make your back arch off the couch, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Yunho,” you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glances up at you, his eyes hooded and burning with desire. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked. “Let me hear you.”

The sound of his voice, combined with the way his tongue works against you, sends you spiraling. He alternates between teasing flicks and firm, deliberate circles, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as your body trembles beneath him.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, the tension building and coiling tighter with each passing second. Yunho’s name falls from your lips in a broken chant, and when he groans against you, the vibrations push you to the edge.

You shatter, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. Yunho doesn’t stop, his tongue coaxing you through your orgasm, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from you until you’re left trembling and breathless.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glistening and his breathing uneven, he presses a soft kiss to your thigh before sitting back on his heels. His hands slide up your legs, soothing the trembling muscles as his gaze meets yours.

“You’re amazing” he says, his voice filled with quiet awe.

He climbs back onto the couch, pulling you into his arms as he kisses you softly, his tongue brushing yours in a way that’s both possessive and tender. His hands cradle your face, his touch gentle despite the intensity of the moment.

“You belong to me” he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you let the aftershocks of your release wash over you. In his embrace, the world feels distant, as though nothing else exists but the two of you.

Yunho’s fingers trail lazily along your back, his touch soothing as he holds you close. The faint hum of the television in the background fades into nothing, replaced by the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.

“I love you” he whispers, the words so soft you almost miss them.

You tilt your head to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his expression. “I love you too” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curve into a smile, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. In his arms, you feel safe, cherished, and completely his.

[tokkiwrites]

𝚄𝚗𝚋𝚎𝚗𝚎𝚊𝚝𝚑 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚄𝚗𝚍𝚎𝚛 𝙼𝚢 𝚂𝚔𝚒𝚗. (3)

mom's fiancé! joel miller x f! reader part one • part two

Summary: Your mom's new fiancé, Joel Miller, is the kind of man you could never shake out of your mind—rugged, rough, and embodiment of your long-buried fantasies. He's been your next-door neighbor for years, and the crush you harbored through your teenage years never really faded. Now, he's with your mom, and they're planning to get married. You should want her to be happy, but you can't ignore the tension growing between you and Joel. It's something that was never meant to happen. But as you uncover Joel's true motives for being with your mom, you realize maybe your feelings weren't one-sided after all. And maybe, despite everything, you’re the one he really wants.

tags: stepcest kind of, age gap (reader is in her mid 20s and joel in his mid 40s), forbidden romance, emotional conflict, slow burn, sexual tension, complicated family dynamics, heartbreak, Joel being an emotionally complicated bastard, ANGST, cheating, infidelity, betrayal

/ᐠ - ˕ -マ⁩ authors note 𑁯 ✿ im baaack !! this has 4.06k words, so it's pretty short. It's pretty much a setup for the last two parts. yes, just two more parts. im sorry, but as much as i love this, it needs to end :( not proofread so try and ignore any typos. also most of the parts where the past story is told its the readers inner thoughts so YES she is trying to demonize her mom to make her feel better about sleeping w joel :') Enjoy!

It had been two months since it all started—two months since you and Joel had fallen into this secret rhythm, stealing moments when your mother wasn’t looking, navigating your forbidden connection with practiced care. In the quiet, when it was just the two of you, it felt almost normal. Almost as if you were like any other couple. You were his, and he was yours—officially, if only in the shadows. But the shadows were where you lived now.

Tonight, it was just you and Joel again, the house quiet, tension building, like it always does when its just the two of you, without having spent a night together for some time. Your mom had gone out with her friends, drinking and catching up over dinner, while you waited at home, your pulse quickening the second you heard the sound of Joel’s footsteps as he came back from work. The door clicked softly as he came inside, the familiar creak of the floorboards beneath his boots sending a thrill up your spine. You didn’t need to say anything. You both knew what came next.

“Missed you, baby. my pretty girl...” Joel muttered low, his voice rougher in the quiet of the house. His fingers found your waist, pulling you close until you could feel the warmth of his breath against your skin. Two months of this, and yet every touch still made your heart race, still left you aching for more. like the first time. “I missed you too,” you whispered back, wrapping your arms around his neck, sinking into the kiss that followed, as if nothing else existed outside of this room. You’d grown used to this dance—the quick, stolen moments, the silent promises that passed between you without words. It wasn’t enough, not by a long shot, but it was all you had, and you weren’t willing to let it go. Joel’s hands moved down your back, fingers gripping tightly as he deepened the kiss, and before you knew it, you were back in the same space, tangled in the sheets, limbs intertwined, the room bathed in a golden glow from the bedside lamp. He made you forget the outside world, the boundaries that separated you, the reality you both lived in.

The hours ticked by, the house settling into a quiet rhythm, when suddenly, a knock echoed from the front door, startling you both. Your head laying on his chest, fingers drawing small hearts on his skin. You sat up, heart pounding, your body still humming from the way Joel fucked you mere seconds ago. Joel frowned, pulling on his jeans as he stood, moving quietly to check the door. “Who the hell…” Joel muttered under his breath, his voice low as he moved down the hallway.

You followed him, grabbing a robe as you went, trying to calm the sudden rush of panic rising in your chest. There shouldn’t be anyone at the door. Your mother wasn’t due back for hours, and you hadn’t heard any cars pull up outside. Joel cracked the door open just a sliver, and there, standing in the darkened porch, was Marjorie. Your mother’s supposed best friend, her face illuminated by the porch light, a twisted smirk curling at the edges of her lips.

Your heart sank.

“Joel,” she greeted him, her voice dripping with something that felt far too dangerous for your liking. Her eyes flicked past him, landing on you standing behind him, the color draining from your face. She didn’t need to say anything to confirm what she already knew. It was written all over her face—the satisfaction, the power she held now. Marjorie stepped closer, her smirk widening. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she said, her voice laced with amusement. “Your mom’s out, isn’t she? And here you two are, playing house.” Joel’s jaw clenched, his fingers gripping the edge of the door tighter. “What the fuck do you want, Marjorie?” he growled, his voice low, protective. Marjorie laughed softly, stepping forward, closer to the threshold. “Relax, Joel. I’m not here to spoil the fun. Yet.” Her eyes flicked to you again, sharp and knowing, as if seeing right through you. “I just wanted to… catch up. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

You felt your stomach twist. This wasn’t just about her catching you. There was something more. You could see it in the way she looked at Joel. so bitter. Had she been following you two? has she seen anything at the wedding? it's clear she already knew.

It hit you all at once—the stories your mom had told you about their past. Marjorie and Joel. They had been together once, years ago, long before you’d ever met him. And now, here she was, standing on your doorstep, holding your secret in her hands. “I could ruin you both, you know,” Marjorie continued, her tone casual, but the threat clear in her words. “Tell your mother everything. She deserves to know, doesn’t she? But…” She paused, her eyes narrowing. “We don’t have to go down that road. Not if you do exactly what I say.” You swallowed hard, your throat suddenly dry. She wasn’t just going to tell your mom. She was going to use this. You could see it now, the leverage she had, the game she was about to play.

“What do you want?” Joel asked, his voice steady, but you could feel the tension radiating off him. Marjorie tilted her head, pretending to think. “Oh, nothing much. Just a little… cooperation.” She smiled, the same smile that had always made your skin crawl. “I’ll be in touch.”

And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving the two of you standing in the doorway, your secret hanging in the air like a ticking time bomb. You slammed the door shut behind her, your heart racing, your mind spinning. “What are we going to do?” you whispered, looking up at Joel, the fear clear in your voice. Joel didn’t answer right away. He just stared at the door, his jaw clenched tight, his hands still gripping the frame. After a moment, he turned to you, his expression softening, and he pulled you into his arms. “We’ll figure it out,” he murmured, his voice steady, but you could hear the worry underneath. “I’m not losing you.”

I could ruin you both, you know.

Joel’s hand was still resting on your back, his thumb brushing gently against your skin, but it wasn’t enough to calm the storm raging inside you. Marjorie knew. And now she held the keys to your entire world, dangling them just out of reach, ready to use them whenever it suited her best.

And your mom. the anger started to burn slowly, creeping in like a wave of heat under your skin. She was out with friends right now, laughing, drinking, celebrating her happiness, all the while oblivious to what was happening behind her back. With her husband. Your heart clenched at the thought of it. A marriage she didn’t even deserve.

Had she ever really deserved him?

The more you thought about it, the more it all made sense. The way your mom had paraded Joel around like some prize, showing him off to her friends— especially to Marjorie. You remembered now, how Marjorie had once had a fight with your mother, it seemed long ago, about her engagement to Joel. You remember Marjorie crying that day about how she had cared for him, how she had fallen in love with him, that what happened between them wasn't just a fling. And what did your mom do? She married him anyway. She married her best friend’s ex without a second thought. And now you were the one being threatened for it. The bitterness in your chest was growing, and you could feel it settling into something sharper, something more dangerous.

“She’s not gonna leave us alone, is she?” you finally asked, your voice quieter than you wanted it to be. You felt exposed, vulnerable. Joel sighed, his fingers tightening their hold on you, but there was no reassurance in his grip. He didn’t answer right away, and that silence said more than any words could have. He wasn’t sure either.

“I don’t know,” Joel finally muttered, running a hand through his hair, his eyes dark with the weight of it all. “But I’ll handle it. I’m not lettin’ her take this from us.”

"Were you really together, with her I meanㅡ seems like she still likes you very much.." you bite, and the man turns, looking at you with a furrowed etched into his face. "We were together like 10 years ago, for fuck's sake, sheㅡ I don't even know. I didn't know she was so close to your mom, never saw them together much..." does he feel pitty for her?

You wanted to believe him. You wanted to cling to that hope that somehow, some way, things would stay the same, and Marjorie would just disappear into the background. But you weren’t that naive. Not anymore. Not after seeing the look in Marjorie’s eyes—like she was waiting for the perfect moment to strike, to dig her claws in and rip everything apart. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand, cutting through the tense silence in the room. You jumped slightly, startled by the noise. When you picked it up, your stomach dropped.

• I hope you enjoyed tonight, sweetheart. Don’t worry. I won’t ruin your fun just yet. i care for my friends, unlike some.

it made you feel sick. She wasn’t done with you. You turned the phone toward Joel, showing him the text, and watched as his jaw tightened again, the muscle in his cheek twitching with barely restrained anger. “She’s not gonna stop, Joel." you whispered, more to yourself than to him. “She’s going to drag this out. Until she gets whatever she wants." Joel’s eyes darkened. “Not if I can help it,” he growled, voice thick with frustration. “But she’s not bluffin’. She ain't like that. We need to be careful.” The weight of his words hung heavy in the air between you. Careful. You had been careful. For two months, you had mastered the art of lying, sneaking, hiding your relationship from the world. And for what? To have it all crumble because of one bitter, jealous woman. But what did she want? What would it take for her to keep her mouth shut?

As if in answer to your question, another message buzzed through:

• It’s been lonely for me, you know, since your mom stole Joel. I think it’s only fair we share, don’t you? Maybe then I’ll keep quiet.

Your heart sank. She wasn’t even hiding it. She wanted him. She wanted Joel. She was dangling that threat over your head, practically daring you to make a choice. And for a moment, you felt nothing but cold, bitter hatred.

For her.

For your mother.

For the situation you had been pulled into.

“What does she want?” Joel asked, sensing the shift in your expression. You hesitated. Could you tell him? Could you even say it out loud? That this wasn’t just about telling your mom the truth. Marjorie was trying to take him from you in the most disgusting way possible.

You swallowed hard, the bile rising in your throat. “She wants you.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, like poison seeping through your veins. Joel’s expression hardened, anger flashing in his eyes as he pulled away, pacing the room. “That damn bitch" His voice trailed off, but you could feel the heat off of him, the barely restrained fury that rippled through his body. “She’s sick,” you said, sinking down onto the edge of the bed, your fingers gripping the sheets as you tried to steady yourself. The rage in your chest was building, mingling with the jealousy that was already there, a fire that wouldn’t stop growing. "But we're sick too for starting all of this."

Butㅡ

How had it come to this? How had your mother allowed someone like Marjorie to stay so close? She had known about their past. She had known Joel was once Marjorie’s. Best friends don’t do that. They don’t betray each other like that. But your mother had. So did she deserve all of this?

All of the resentment you had pushed down over the last few months—the jealousy, the anger—was bubbling to the surface. Your mother had always been selfish, hadn’t she? Always thinking about herself first. Sure, she acted like she cared about you, like she wanted the best for you, but it had always been her own happiness that came first. Even after the divorce, it was all about her—her search for the perfect man, her obsession with finding someone who would make her feel young and beautiful again.

And she had found him. Joel. A man who had never really been hers to begin with.

He is mine now.

The bitterness was sharper now, more pronounced. It wasn’t just about Marjorie anymore. It was about the way your mother had taken what didn’t belong to her, and now the whole thing was falling apart, crumbling around you. Maybe this was what she deserved. “I’m not letting Marjorie get what she wants,” you said, your voice firm, your mind made up. “I won’t let her touch you. She doesn’t deserve it.” Joel stopped pacing, his eyes locking on yours. “We’ll find a way outta this, baby. We’ll figure it out.”

But there was doubt in his voice. You could hear it. You could see it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly, the weight of the situation pressing down on him, on both of you. This was bigger than the two of you now. Marjorie wasn’t going to let this go, and the truth was, she had all the power. Still, you weren’t about to let her take Joel from you. Not after everything. Not when he was the only thing keeping you sane.

As the night stretched on, you lay together in silence, the darkness outside matching the heaviness in your chest. Joel’s arm was wrapped around you, but it wasn’t enough to keep the thoughts from swirling in your mind.

How long can we keep this up?

It wasn’t just Marjorie that made you feel this way—it was your mother too. The way she had always been the center of attention, the way she had stolen Joel knowingly from Marjorie. You hated her for it. And now, with Joel by your side, you realized you hated her even more for what she still didn’t know. She had done this. She had created this mess. And now, she was out with her friends, celebrating her perfect life, while you were left to pick up the pieces. She deserves this, doesn't she?

The days became an unbearable blur, each one bleeding into the next with that same dull, gnawing anxiety eating away at you. Marjorie's threat hung over you like a dark cloud, looming over every stolen glance, every whispered word exchanged between you and Joel. You couldn't escape the feeling of dread that clawed at your chest each time your phone buzzed. Every vibration rattled your nerves, setting off a wave of panic that crashed through your mind, sending your heart racing.

What if this was it? What if today was the day Marjorie made her move, the day everything fell apart?

For three agonizing days, you waited for the inevitable blow, for the moment she would pull the trigger and expose the fragile world you and Joel had built in secret. You could barely sleep, your mind racing, filled with endless scenarios, each more horrifying than the last. And through it all, Joel remained steady, his calm exterior masking the storm raging inside him. He tried to reassure you, to tell you that things would be okay, that you would figure it out together, but even he couldn't hide the worry in his eyes. Then, on the third day, the message came. It was short, sharp, and to the point, the words searing themselves into your brain as you stared at the screen in disbelief.

• Tonight. My place. Don’t keep me waiting.

Your stomach twisted into knots, a wave of nausea rising in your throat as you turned the phone toward Joel. He glanced at it, his face darkening, a deep frown etching itself into his features. For a moment, neither of you spoke, the silence in the room thick with tension. You could feel the dread creeping up your spine, wrapping itself around your heart like a vice, squeezing tighter and tighter with each passing second.

"She's gonna keep pushing until she gets what she wants," you whispered, your voice trembling with fear and barely-contained anger. You could feel the tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, but you blinked them back, refusing to let them fall. Not yet. Not in front of Joel. He didn't respond immediately, his jaw tightening as he stared down at the floor, lost in thought. The lines on his face seemed deeper, etched with frustration and helplessness, and for a brief, terrifying moment, you wondered if there was anything he could do to fix this. If there was any way out.

Then, out of nowhere, the words tumbled from your lips, almost before you could stop them, a desperate attempt to break the silence, to grasp at any solution, no matter how insane.

"What if we kill her?" The question lingered in the air, absurd and reckless, and you weren't even sure why you'd said it, or what kind of response you were hoping for. But the words had left your mouth before you could pull them back. For a moment, Joel just stared at you, his brow furrowing in shock, as if he couldn't quite believe what he had just heard. His lips parted slightly, his gaze flickering with confusion, before the tension broke, and suddenly, inexplicably, he started to laugh.

It was a quiet, breathy chuckle at first, one that caught you completely off guard. "What the—what?" Joel’s voice cracked with amusement, his eyes softening as he shook his head. "Baby, what the fuck, no," he said, still chuckling as he reached out to cup your face, his rough thumb brushing gently across your cheek. You wanted to be mad at him for laughing, for finding humor in this moment of utter despair, but the sound of his voice—his warmth—made it impossible. Even in the midst of this chaos, his touch had the power to calm the storm inside you, if only for a second.

"This is no time for jokes..." you muttered, your voice cracking, though the bitterness in your words faded the moment his thumb stroked your skin again, grounding you in the present. Joel chuckled softly, pressing his forehead against yours, his laughter slowly fading as his expression turned serious again. "We ain't killin' nobody, sweetheart," he said quietly, his voice firm but gentle. "That's not how we fix this."

You exhaled a shaky breath, nodding slightly, though the frustration still gnawed at you. It wasn’t like you’d actually meant it. The suggestion had been a fleeting, desperate thought, a reflection of just how cornered you felt by Marjorie’s relentless threats. But it felt like there were no real options left, and that sense of helplessness was eating away at you, pulling you deeper into a spiral of panic. "Then what?" you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. "What do we do? Because I can't... I can't keep living like this. I can't keep looking over my shoulder, waiting for her to tear us apart. I don’t know how much longer I can take it."

Your hands were trembling, your fingers digging into the fabric of Joel's shirt as you clung to him, desperate for some sense of stability. You looked up at him, pleading silently for him to offer you some kind of solution—any solution that didn’t involve losing him. But Joel’s face softened with concern, his eyes flickering with sadness as he tilted his head slightly, as if searching for the right words.

"Let’s... let’s run away," you blurted out, the words tumbling out in a rush before you could second-guess yourself. "You said you wanted to—wanted to run away with me. You promised me, Joel. You said we could leave all of this behind, give me a baby, start over somewhere new where nobody would find us. Was that all a lie? Did you even mean any of it?" Your voice cracked, and this time you couldn't stop the tears from welling in your eyes, your chest tightening with the flood of emotions.

Joel's eyes widened, and he looked taken aback by the sudden outburst, his hands gripping your shoulders as if trying to steady you. "Shit, baby, I—" he started, but the words seemed to catch in his throat. Panic surged through you, your heart pounding in your chest as doubt clawed its way to the surface. Was this all just some fleeting fantasy for him? Something he had whispered in the heat of the moment, a promise he never intended to keep? The thought terrified you, the idea that Joel— your Joel, might not feel as deeply as you did.

"So you lied to me," you snapped, your voice rising as anger and hurt bled into every word. "You don’t love me, do you? You never meant any of it!"

Joel’s face twisted with anguish, his hands coming up to cradle your face, his voice urgent as he tried to stop the storm that was building inside you. "What? No—baby, don’t say that. I love you, I swear to God, I love you more than I can even say." He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath shaky as his fingers tightened their hold on you. "But we can't just run away from this, not yet. I want to—God, you have no idea how much I want to—but we have to fix this first. We can't leave things this way."

You swallowed hard, the tears now flowing freely down your cheeks, and Joel reached up to brush them away, his lips pressing softly against your forehead as he spoke again, his voice filled with tenderness. "I promise you, baby, after we fix this—after we figure out a way to make this right—we’ll go. We’ll run away, just like I said. We’ll find some quiet little town, far away from all of this. We'll have our own little house, just you and me... and our family. We'll make that life, I swear to you."

He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own gaze filled with determination and something softer—something that made your heart ache with longing. "You have to believe me," he whispered, his thumb brushing over your lips. "We’ll have everything, baby, but we need to be smart about this."

You blinked back the remaining tears, nodding as you tried to steady your breathing, your heart still racing but calmer now that you could see the sincerity in his eyes. "But what if we can’t fix it?" you asked, your voice small and trembling. "What if—"

"No," Joel cut you off, his voice firm but gentle. "Don’t think like that. We’re gonna fix this. I’ll make sure of it." You wanted to believe him. You wanted so badly to cling to the hope that everything would turn out okay in the end, that you and Joel would find a way to be together without the constant threat of Marjorie, or your mom. But the fear still lingered, a shadow that refused to disappear no matter how many promises Joel made.

"I need you to be strong for me, baby," Joel whispered, his hand gently cupping the back of your head, pulling you against his chest. "I need you to be my strong little girl, okay? Can you do that for me?"

His voice was soft, soothing, and you melted into his touch, nodding against his chest as the tension slowly ebbed away. "I’m your st-strong girl," you mumbled through your sniffles, your fingers gripping his shirt as you held on to him. "I love you.. so m-much.."

"I know you do, sweet thing," he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "I love you too. More than you know."

taglist ⭐️ ㅡ @eviispunk @joeldjarin @whimsiwitchy @guelyury @untamedheart81

[bitchlessdino]

I have this in mind, maybe svt member x reader where they are classmates from college, they are close but not THAT close lol. Until one day they started talking about house prices and how the rent is so expensive, but still with the desire of living alone, so he (maybe hoshi or woozi) proposed that they should find a place together to split rent. It started as a joke, but then they found a really good place and decided to try to live together for at least one semester.

so yeah at first everything is great since both of them are always busy, so they dont really see each other that often around the house.

until it could be that they are sexually frustrated and start a friends with benefits relationship (but in secret, so their circle of friends dont know about it). However, reader always had a big crush on him, but never said anything. idk what else to say

Pairing: college roommate!soonyoung x afab!reader Genre: smut Word count: 5.9k tags: pwithplot, established friendship, roommate au, friends to fwb, pining, pervert!reader, pervert!soonyoung, mentions of alcohol, mutual masturbation, blowjobs, missionary, doggy, praise kink Summary: When it comes to the economy and needing a roof to live under, having a roommate is your best option, especially as any desperate college student. When arrangements are made with Soonyoung, a friend you admittedly have a visceral lust for, things take a turn one messy night. Making this arrangement more of an edible arrangement. author note: so i may have run wild since hoshi posted those thirst trap photos haha. im very proud of the header i made for this. this was something i planned on posting before my unprepared hiatus, and hopefully i'm still in spirits on continuing this. please anticipate more of me and remember that writers love interaction, criticism or not <333

Tag: @shiningstar-byulxx @misssugarlips @tommolex @hoeforhao @homerunhansol @dkakapizzaboy @junhui-recs @svtup @buffhoshi @meowmeowminnie @caratochan @lovebot4han @6969lilithcat @wonuhour @camisun93 @emmmui @toruro @jeonride @novalpha @nvmrljk @feat-sun

“That’s funny, Soonyoung’s looking for a place too.”

You looked over at the man in question to see him mid-feast on a sandwich bigger than his face as it puffed his cheeks full like a common squirrel. “Why are you looking for a place? I thought you made plans with Seokmin?”

The man struggled to swallow down the larger-than-life bite, barely managing to do without scratching the back of his throat before answering. “His parents convinced him against it. I should’ve known he’d back out when he didn’t know how to do his own laundry.”

“Do you know how to do your own laundry?”

“I know there are colors and whites, detergent and softener—I’d figure it out.”

“I’m hearing a no…”

“Youtube exists. How hard could it be? But yeah, I’m looking for a place.” He set his sandwich aside to lean in closer, washing down any remnants with a swig of his Jihoon’s stolen Coke Zero, who at the moment couldn’t be more distracted with Physics paper. “It’s not easy that’s for sure. A single bedroom is way too much on its own and anything bigger I can barely cover half of.”

“Here’s an idea,” Mingyu suggested like it wasn’t on his mind for the fifteen minutes you’ve been complaining about being essentially homeless, “Why don’t you guys figure something out together?”

“Really? Me and Soonyoung?”

Your counterpart couldn’t help the offense washing over his face. “What’s wrong with me?”

“I don’t know if you’d be a good roommate.”

“What makes you roommate of the year?”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ve known each for what, a semester and a half, and I don’t know what your living habits are. I’ve basically lived alone all my life with my parents working all the time. How do I know you won’t push all the housework on me?”

Scoffing, his lips twisted up in a cocky smile. “You’re looking at the flail youngest of two who did almost a decade of housework for a hundred dollar allowance for a week. I don’t waste Pinesol, I hand wash dishes, and I keep my 50 pairs of shoes neatly out of the doorway and in pristine condition.”

“You can do all that and not operate a washing machine?”

“The buttons and colors confuse me.”

“So,” Mingyu interrupted again, “How about it? Sounds like you guys a both a little desperate. The housing market isn’t getting any lower.”

“I guess you don’t sound all to bad to live with then,” You replied with a tinge of a tease.

“What do you bring to the table?” Soonyoung interjected.

“Discounts for food at my work, a Netflix account, a pack of scrub daddies, and a decent amount of disposable income for half an average month's rent and fun stuff if we ever get bored. Down?”

Soonyoung stroked his chin as if to think, but his head, the deal sounded as good as it can get. If he was being honest, he was desperate, but after the berating, he couldn’t let you know that. “Add in some salon-quality shampoos and conditioners and we have a deal.”

You groaned. “Fine, for a semester for now, but you’re getting laundry stuff and learning how to use the machines.”

You hadn’t expected to be apartment shopping with Soonyoung looking like a pair of newlyweds, but here you were doing exactly that. There wasn’t anything particular about him that bothered you, (except maybe the harboring attraction you had for him since freshman orientation that you blanketed over with over argumentative banter and an aloof attitude when he was around).

But as far as you knew, you were morning and night.  Sure, you’ve gotten along in social situations, but you knew how drastically different your lives were. When you aren’t working, you were a homebody and he’d bring bodies home. He lived differently than you did to put it plainly.

And perhaps the idea of waking up with him every morning possibly shirtless and/or naked frankly made you both terrified and aroused all at once.

The moment you shook his hand to agree, you were already feeling some regret, but hey, maybe that’ll actually do you some good. Maybe you’ll finally get over this school crush on this unattainably hot guy after seeing how disgusting he is leaving his underwear and socks in every corner of the place. It’s inevitable things can only go down from here, right? Right?

“A few ground rules should be in order.”

Soonyoung nodded, putting away the remainder of the edible arrangement gifted to you by your collective friends in the fridge. “Like what?”

“Chores should be switched off every week so we know how to handle all types at all times, but we do our own laundry. No exceptions. Dinner is a group effort. If we get takeout, always tell the other at least an hour in advance and costs are split. Groceries are bought biweekly with a set budget.”

“Strict, but ok. I’ll do my best to follow them. Anything else?”

You were reluctant to bring up this last one. You cleared you through, taking a second to properly form the words before letting them out. “If we have someone that we’re getting involved with, it’s either done at their place or in an empty apartment with plenty of notice.”

Soonyoung can’t help but bust out a wide and perfect grin, crossing his arms seeing the timid expression on your face. “Fine. I’ll make sure when I have sex with someone, it’s under those guidelines.”

“Ha, thanks,” You awkwardly respond, “I’ll abide the same.”

His eye narrowed at you dubiously. “Wait, you’ll actually get around?”

“Why are you doubting me?”

He chuckled, shrugging smooth broad shoulders through his black sleeveless tee. “You just don’t really seem about that. There’s nothing wrong with it, but—“

“You don’t know every detail of my intimate life so butt out.”

His arms rose up in defense, nodding along. “Alright, okay. If that’s all, I have a few rules of my own.”

“Okay. Have at it.”

He mused to himself for a few seconds. “Bathroom schedule: first come first serve.”

You nodded, easy enough.

“At a few hours of the day, the living room becomes an at-home gym when needed.”

Okay, that one had a little kick to it. “Alright.”

“And we have a safe word.”

You blinked back at him, heart pounding a little louder than it should, legs clenching as if they were being pried apart, and sweat burning the temple of your forehead with the unnecessarily dirty thoughts running through your mind. “A w-what?”

“A safe word,” he repeated as a matter of fact, “a word we can use when there’s conflict and something wrong and we just completely stop what we’re doing.” He grinned a little. “It’s not just for sex you know.”

You shoved him, earning his chuckle. “I know that, jerk. But fine, what do you suggest?”

“…Tiger.”

“How did I know that’s what you’d say?”

“Because we’re good friends.”

“How about ‘hamster’?”

He frowned. “No.”

“But look how effective that was.”

For the most part, things went smoothly. It helped that things got busy and tasks barely needed to get done with the exception of laundry. You saw each other more in your friend group gatherings than at home in your shared arrangement, and despite everyone knowing you live together, neither of you made it a point to make a big deal about it, even if everyone else does.

The countless times you had to fight Seokmin, Jeonghan, or Jihyo about the possibility of something developing between you and your new roommate romantically pained you with their inaccuracy. It seemed left and right that’s all everyone could talk about since it was arranged. It seemed as if there was nothing better up for discussion. Soonyoung dealt with it all the same, being constantly asked what kind of nefarious doings are being done behind closed doors that no one knows about. It always came as a disappointment when it was broken towards them that nothing was happening and that nothing ever will.

Even to you. Surprising enough.

If you learned anything from living with Soonyoung, it was harder than you expected it to be, especially with a still festering crush that is only developing into something almost tangibly heart-wrenching and stomach churning. It seemed to have taken a turn for the worse when Soonyoung started to take advantage of the home gym more due to the massive heatwave in town. 

The damn pull up bar.

You’ve only realized the time you’ve wasted after hearing the kettle whistle you put out apparently ten minutes ago. Your mind was too clouded by the flex of his biceps lifting his body in the air. Or the contracting and releasing of his shoulders that were lightly misted by perspiration. Or were too preoccupied with wanting to lick off the veins of the poor man’s lower abdomen. Or thinking about what those arms could do flinging you upside a—

“Oh, early class?”

“Uh, yeah. There’s a lot more traffic today, so I'm getting there earlier than usual.” 

His feet landed on the ground with a thud and he grabbed a towel to wipe over the sweat that was making his body glisten like glaze on a smooth buff donut. “I’m guessing you have no time for breakfast then?”

“Unfortunately,” you respond, quickly pouring your tea into your thermos before getting to your shoes, “I was gonna grab something at the Starbucks on campus after.”

“Here.” He tossed something from a box behind him and watched as you flimsily caught it from the front door.

“Oh.” A protein bar, a good one from your experience of raiding his side of the pantry. “Thanks.”

“And cancel all previous engagements. Dinner’s on me tonight.”

You squinted at him, “Why?”

“We’ll have something nice for once tonight,” he grinned, “be home at 8 tonight.”

Soonyoung’s plan for dinner was a free courtesy of Mingyu who found a nice little gig as a sous chef in a trendy place uptown. The whole circle celebrated together and you only got around to knowing after Soonyoung kept you updated on news knowing you’d be too busy to look at the giant groups chat you’re in. You should’ve been appreciative. That should’ve been your first instinct, not…entitlement. Not envious of him making eyes and flirting with the waitres. Not embarrassment for expecting something more from his brazen invite to dinner with you.

So, by then you’ve had a bit to drink. Okay, a lot to drink. Just enough to drink to have you stumbling on the center dance floor that garnered the attention of prying eyes. At that moment, nothing really mattered. You knew where lines lie, but lines eventually blur.

One second, you’re alone swaying to Britney Spears’ “toxic”, another second, Seungcheol’s crotch is up against your ass. It was a nice sentiment since you were definitely craving a bit of attention tonight, although you weren’t sure if you could look your friend in the eye again after that. Fortunately for you, it only got so far until a shapeless, but familiar, body pulled you away from the scene, forcibly putting you away in a bright yellow car. With your many failed protests, they managed to reach the footsteps of your building and finally reached for keys in their front pockets to open up your apartment.

“Hold still. Please…God, I am not sober enough for this.”

“Soonyoung….” You whined like a lost child.

He gripped you tighter by the arm to lock you in place, preventing you from falling. He was used to being taken care for and the grass was not greener on the other side. He has a lot of people he needs to apologize to. “Almost…okay, okay. I’m in. Go. Go shower and sober yourself up.”

You tugged him at the wrist, pulling him towards you. “Shower with me…”

He scoffed, a smug smile forming on his face. “You have no idea what you’re saying. Go before I make you, and I really don’t wanna have to make you.”

“Fineee…”

Logic flew out the window tonight. Not paying it a second thought, you began stripping yourself of your clothes in the middle of the living room, from socks to immediately your shirt. Soonyoung’s eyes nearly shot out of his skull as he scrambled to cover you in your abandoned shirt before it almost hit the ground.

“Undress in the bathroom please.” Even in your intoxicated state, you could feel the tension of his muscles brush against your back, causing the heat to creep up on your skin.

You let yourself melt into him giggling, turning your head back to meet his cautious eyes. “Maybe you’d like to help with that.”

You can see the bit of shock in his eyes, fluttering back to something more composed once he internally reminded himself this was the ramblings of a drunk person. “You really don’t know what you're saying.” He then pushed you inside the restroom, holding the door by its knob, “Shower and brush your teeth. I’m not letting you out until I’m sure you’re done.”

“Soonyoung…”

“Please, just do it.”

Eventually, he finally convinced you to do as he asked and he hears the shower running, but a mere second later a thud follows. You busted out in a fit of pain, slipping on the already wet floor and immediately your roommate comes running in concerned. “What happened?”

He turned his head the second he processed your fallen body on the ground was bare naked. Shower water poured down on your head, drenching you from head to toe, and glistening your body like a wet dream. Your eyes lit up at him in a timid demure, barely covering your intimate parts with your arms and hands. He coughed dramatically, pinching himself to find restraint, and repeated his quarry of concern with avoidant eyes before you pointed out the obvious, “I fell.”

“Hold on to the rails, that’s what they’re for,” he groaned.

“Sorry.”

He sighed, slightly glancing. “Do you need help?”

You shook your head even when he wasn’t looking. “No, I think I’m good.”

“Good. Just be careful and tell me when you’re done.”

And you’re alone again.

You pulled yourself up from your pathetic state and then the warm water run through your features, letting out a loud sigh. You finished up the best you could, ridding yourself of a night full of grime. Grabbing a towel on the rack, you wrapped it around your damp nude before letting Soonyoung know from the other side of the door. He finally let you free from his handmade prison before watching you go scurry to your bedroom in a concoction of drunken embarrassment.

You muttered to yourself scoldings for letting something like that happen, clenching your legs together in bed the moment you hear his round of shower hit the tiles through the thin walls. A groan unexpectedly sounds off abundantly clear, and your shameless thoughts take action while he’s preoccupied. 

Still naked, you let the towel fall to the ground and you crawl under the sheets of your bed, not caring in the slightest about your hair getting your pillows wet. Your hands slowly trail down to your chest, ghosting over your skin until the pads of your fingers finally found what’s between your legs. You moaned at your self-discovery. Filming your fingers with your filthy arousal, a smile derived from self-indulgence shaped on your face. There you let your fingers slide between your folds and you shudder.

Meanwhile, Soonyoung couldn’t get your image out of his head. The glimpse alone was enough to make him think of you in compromising positions. Lips around his angry stiff cock, your tongue sliding against the veins of his shaft. He’d then hear the wet suction, the vibrations of your mouth humming around his skin, moaning his name like the perfect dessert you were. He groaned again to himself, pressing his length against his abdomen, not thinking you’d hear.

But you do. In fact, it’s so coherent, it makes you wet enough seep past your thighs, trailing down your legs. Your fingers plunged in you deeper while the palm of your hand rubbed against the shape of your clit. Your hips heave up from the mattress, pressing deeper into your palm as the image of Soonyoung’s face stayed a constant in your intoxicated head.

Soonyoung could hear your moans through it all, even if you didn’t think they did, and you only further fed his imagination. He braced against the wall behind him, thrusting into his fist with gritted teeth. The squeeze he had on his girth was merciless and all he had to rid of his overwhelming sin. In his head, you batted your pretty eyes back him, trailing your hands over his body, mouth gaping that looked ready to be filled one way or another. He threw his head back, whispering your name softly. “Oh, baby…you look so good swallowing my cock.”

You felt tears soak your eyes, swallowing a desperate breath.“Mmh, fuck…just like that please…”

“Gonna fuck your pretty pussy…” His thrusts roughly pulled himself at his base, clenching the life around it.

“You’re so deep, fuck, you feel so good—“

“You’re gonna make me cum—“

“Shit, I’m gonna cum—“

“Shit—“

“Shit—“

Simultaneously, you both were freed of your tension, a sudden release of breath escaping your lungs. The spilled cum fell at Soonyoung’s feet, melting in the heat of the water before it followed down the drain, while you fell slumped in bed in your own filth. You lazily reached out for your towel to clean the rest of the mess, tore away your dirty sheets, and settled into a tired slumber.

Soonyoung, overwashed with shame, hung his head down as he quietly cursed to himself. He shut off the shower head and reached for his towel. He finally concludes this evening, having taken a load off. There wasn’t much left on his mind that night, only teh thought of wanting it to be over.

The morning comes sooner than you realize and you find yourself at the mercy of a shirtless Soonyoung like most mornings, except this time he wasn’t doing pull-ups. Instead, he walked to you, a vigor to his stride and he decidedly met your eyes, while you were still focused on his body.

“You’re not very good at hiding things,” he said with a knowing smile.

“Soonyoung—“

“Should I just give you what you want? Should I fuck the shit out of you until all I can hear is my name?”

An answer was caught in the tightness of your throat when he lifted you off the ground and instinctively made you wrap your legs around his bare torso. The heat of his body is all you could focus on until he planted you flat on your kitchen counter, parting your legs to reveal the sudden bareness beneath your oversized t-shirt.

He licked his lip, tensing up his abdomen excitedly before he found home between your thighs. Your fingers threaded through his hair, crying out in soft breaths, and pulling his head back to meet his pretty eyes glossed over with lust. 

He mumbled into your skin, specifically one thing. And he said it over again and over again. Unable to make out what he says, you asked him to repeat it more clearly. It was then he rose up to the surface, a sticky sweet sheen of your arousal in his lips before he drew them close to your ear. His breath fanned your skin, shivers running down your spine, and finally what he says makes sense.

“Wake up.”

Your eyes ripped open like the ground beneath you should’ve. You ran a hand over your face, groaning at your own dismay. “What the actual fuck…”

It took a minute for you to pull yourself out of bed, groggy and with a raging headache to blow over throughout the day, only to be met with nearly an identical circumstance you met in your dream. Your roommate’s bare back stared back at you as brightly as the morning sun. You shrunk back at the reminder of your dream, walking on eggshells towards him to reach the fridge. “Morning.”

Soonyoung coughed on his water recognizing your presence, timidly greeting you back.

“Plans today?” You asked.

He nodded, “Yeah, classes in the afternoon.”

The silence couldn’t be more deafening.

“You.”

“Yeah, me too. Will be back at home at 9 after work.”

“Cool.”

“Cool.”

And soon you parted, embarrassed that encountered ever happened.

The rest of the day, there was much of seeing each other like most days, but this particular instance felt there was more of a reason to it. Even when it came around to your mutually available time at lunch, you made the extra effort not to run into him. How could you?

After making a pass on him and making the half-conscious decision of touching yourself to him while he was in the shower?

You’d be insane to go about things as if they were normal. They weren’t. 

When you came home that night, he was home like he always was, yet nowhere in sight. You knew he was home when you noticed his bike locked up where it normally was and shoes placed at the front of the door. You were tempted to call out his name but refrained when you reminded yourself you were yet ready for that confrontation yet.

Unfortunately for you, you didn’t have a choice in the matter as  Soonyoung seemed to be already walking out of his room, shocked to see you actually home despite it being the time you said you’d be home by. “Hey…”

“Hey.” You let your stuff down before heading to the kitchen. “Did you eat yet?”

“Uh, yeah. I got pizza with a few Chan and Seungkwan.”

“Cool. I’m just gonna make myself something real quick.”

“Alright.”

“Did you need something?”

“Hmm?”

You pointed to his door. “You came out of your room.”

“Right,” he quickly scanned the floor before claiming nearly finished bottle of water on the couch's corner table. “W-water. I got thirsty.”

Obviously, it was an excuse, but you weren’t going to point it out with your lack of backbone. “Okay, well, I’m out here if you need anything.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

Before he retreated back to the room, a halt was squeezed out of your throat, catching him in his eager steps. He turned to you with unfocused eyes, hard swallowing in an attempt to calm himself down. “What is it?”

“I need to get this off my chest. Yesterday…I’m really sorry for everything yesterday.”

He sighed. That’s what all that was? “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it.”

“Also. Shit, um. I don’t know why I’m saying this because it's not like it matters. Well, it does a little bit. It could totally come off wr—“

“Hey,” he interrupted, “I doubt it’s as big a deal as your making it out to be, and I’m okay with not knowing.”

“But you should know actually.” You steadily approached him, letting out an exaggerated exhale. “Yesterday, you were showering and I don’t know what got over me. Well, I was drunk, so I guess there was that bit. Anyway, I heard you, you know, and I guess I—“

“Touched yourself when I was in the shower?”

You shut your eyes, preparing yourself for the worst. “Okay, we’re getting right into it, but yeah. It just felt weird not telling you, I just—“

“You knew I was masturbating?”

“Well, yeah? It was obvious if I’m being honest. Not the point. I invaded your privacy and indulged in it. I don’t know, maybe it’s been a while since…I just want to apologize.”

“For what, overhearing me whack myself off,” he took a step closer, eyes a lot like your dream meeting yours, “or for cumming to the thought of me?”

You breathed out through your nose. In and out. Your eyes for the life of you could not stay steady. “B-both?”

“If we’re being honest here, I should come clean too, shouldn’t I?”

Your hand steadied on the couch, almost letting the force of gravity pull you down along with your sanity, but tried maintaining eye contact as if that would change the dynamic even a little bit. “About what?”

Soonyoung finally found the humor in the situation to smile, one that caused the stagger in your step. “About how your face would come up when I touched myself in the shower.”

“Soonyoung—“

“You can be mad at me, but I won't be mad at you for doing the same thing I did. I don’t regret it because that was the best orgasm I’ve had in mon—“

You silenced his lips with your own, launching you into him until all you felt was the heat of his furnace of a body. His hands claimed the small of your back before pressing your curves into his hollows. He received your lips feverishly, moving against you as if in heated debate, and crashed your body into the furniture closest to you. 

“Didn’t know you were this eager,” he mumbled, “you should've told me.”

Your hand gripped his hair, your teeth taking his bottom lip between and pulling, emitting illicit whines that filled your stomach with warmth. Your leg propped to his side, embracing him hungrily there wasn’t even space to breathe. His hips knocked back into you, his bulge grinding against your clothed heat as he arched you over the back of the couch.

“You’re a bit mean. I like that.” He giggled.

“Shut up,” you mumbled.

“May I remind you, you kissed me.”

“And I can back out right this second.”

“Oh, but we can’t have that,” he utilized his upper strength to lift you off the ground looped tightly around his torso, a gasp leaving your lips. You reunite with his eyes that are now leveled with yours. You’ve looked into them before but it shocked you with how dark they are, how earnest they look. “You see it, don't you? How much I want you? I see it in your eyes too.”

“T-this a tactic you use on all people you sleep with?”

He shook his head. “Just you, and only because I really want you.”

Your hand planted against his cheek, the curve of your palm hugging his jaw. His breath hitches from the mere tenderness in your eyes. His body has ever only told him he was you carnally and raw, but that gaze. If he would just bottle that gaze and show off like a trophy.

Your hand crawled over to the nape of his neck, there your digits ran up his hair, pushing him innately close to yours, and you whispered cautiously, “We can never tell the others.”

“I’ll take this to my grave if it’s what you want.”

You nodded. “Good boy.”

He transported you to his room, dropping you on his mattress with him to follow. Your lips stay glued together a perfect mold, tongue clashing in a union that you’ve only even dreamt of having. Soonyoung only briefly pulled away to reveal his torso. He was firm, flushed to the touch, and heaving under the heat of your palm.

You gasped as he pressed his body against your touch, smiling against your skin as he asked if you liked what you were seeing. All you could do was nod, somehow lost in the trance that you never wanted to escape. His mouth took your neck, roaming starved as his hands undressed you down to your underwear.

“God, you’re gorgeous.” He slipped you out from your sleeves and made skin contact. Chest to chest, waist to waist, hips to hips. You sense his want through touch alone and for once being wrong felt so incredibly right. What a relief to know, he felt what you did. “I never wanted someone this badly before.”

“Soonyoung…”

He nipped your neck, teeth scratching against your skin. “You say my name like that, I’ll have no choice but to ruin you. Be careful around me. Or don’t. I’d show you a good time either way.”

“You’re—mmp—such a…ah—s-sweet talker.” You could hardly talk back. He made love to your skin as if he’d done it before, touching every pressure of your body like a skilled lover, both attentively yet without remorse.

“I’m only saying what I’ve been thinking. Like how desperate I am to feel myself between your thighs.” He tugged down your underwear to your feet and let the fall to the ground, allowing your legs to hook around him. “Or how your lips taste like caramel coffee, the candy you eat every time you need a ‘pick me up.’”

“You pay attention to that?” You asked, fiddling over the button of his pants.

“I don’t make an effort to, I just do.” He found your hands, aiding you in your efforts, soon you heard the sound of fabric hitting the floor. He held your gaze still, guiding your hand over his hard cock, taking from the base up to the shaft. You swallowed memorizing his shape, his length, his weight. There was so much you wanted to be able to share with this part of him alone. “Now it’s your turn to pay attention to me.”

Your lips stretched over your cheeks. “What makes you think I don’t?” 

You trace over something particular with your other hand, something that bulges at you even with his pants on. You lifted yourself to sit up, folding your calves behind your thighs. Stroking his length with one hand, you admire your veins leading down his lap with the other. “I’ll have you know, my patience is admirable. It took a lot within me to blatantly ignore these pretty veins you have on your stomach.”

“Someone’s never called them that before,” he chuckled, “no one’s even acknowledged them before.”

“I guess no one’s been privileged enough to see them as often as I do. Lucky me.” You thumbed over the blue, scrapping over its stroke as you lowered your head and your lips wrapped around the head. You covered his underside, tugging  your lips around him, and watching his jaw drop lower when you began covering more of his length.

“I’m the lucky one,” he acknowledged, his hand dropping to the crown of your head before caressing the length of your hair. “You should see how good you look sucking my dick right now. I’m never gonna see this image without wanting to cum on the spot.”

You steadied yourself at his hips, tongue gliding over the underside, and you hugged your cheeks tighter around his girth. Eyes fluttered back at him, and you wretched to take more of him, already felt him hit the back of your throat. When you heard him moan, it fed you more encouragement, giving your best efforts to fit all of him. You coughed at the tightness in your throat but remained resilient. The vicious substance of your saliva coated him from tip to base as your hand stroked him repeatedly, pushing him deeper into you until your vision grew weary. 

Soonyoung told you to take it slow, stroking the back of your head with a gentle hand. You inhaled him for as long as you could, the sounds of your efforts growing dim the deeper he made it past your mouth. Ultimately, tears ran down your cheeks, oxygen cut from your airways, and you felt no choice but to pull him out, resting his cock between your fingertips as you gasped for breath.

That breath was quickly stolen when Soonyoung dived in to claim it, his body caging yours. His weight against yours was comforting, enticing, addicting. He moaned your name sweetly like a song, and it filled your stomach with embers of desire. “You’re so hot…I’d make you do that again if I wasn’t worried about killing you.”

You pathetically scoffed in an attempt to cover up discomfort. “That? Pff, I’m fine.”

He grinned, kissing you long and deep. “You’re so cute when you lie. I’ll make sure to return the favor now.”

Pulling at your thighs, he dragged them towards him, barely touched your eager heat, and his twitch urging you to pull him close. He leaned over somewhere behind you to tear open a condom, rolling it over himself. As he drew closer, so did you, feeling the inviting head of his cock glide over your wet cunt, you trembled in thought. Soonyoung, just—

“Put it in me.”

“Now, now. I’m not going anywhere,” he smiled cheekily.

“Soonyoung,” You whined.

Your impatience is rewarded when he plunged himself in slowly, but completely, embracing the stretch of your walls as he filled you out. “So…needy...”

His initial thrust is deep, strong, and then he landed another, quickly adjusting to the plush of your pussy. You held your thighs back to your chest, and spread your legs wide for him. Your pretty lips weren’t shy with praising him, asking him for more of his pretty cock, and earning just as you ask. “You’re mind-numbing, shit…what a good fucking pussy…”

“Your cock’s so g-good in me…you feel so good inside me, Soonyoung…”

“Fuck, say my name like that again.”

He flipped you on your stomach, pressing his fingers into your as he found his pace from behind you, ramming into you until your cunt has tasted every inch of his cock. You gasped as his hand maneuvered you to push back against him, like a toy to be played with he used every bit of you, your energy, your sexuality, and he embraced it. You felt amazing. 

“Soonyoung, I’m—ah—I’m gonna cum.”

“You’re gonna cum around my cock? Hmm? Is that it? My cock fucking you that good?”

You bit into his cheeks nodding, in the urge to respond before the wave of arousal crashed into you. You were clenching your stomach as his name came in tidal waves, grinding towards him to prologue the high. Loudly, you cursed, balling the sheets underneath you into fists. 

Soonyoung nodded proudly, the shaky view of your body trembling beneath him fuels his ego and it’s not long before he orgasms, filling the condom until it nearly burst. He pulled out of you finally, quickly discarding the trash before he joined you in bed, hugging your fatigued body to his side and there was silence. Only silence.

And breathing. Mainly Soonyoung’s. And that went on for a good fifteen minutes until someone spoke again.

“I’m glad I waited for that.”

You looked up at your roommate curiously, the smile on his face felt warmer every time you saw it. “What was that?”

He met your gaze, hand softly moving over your hair. “I feel like I’ve gotten closer to you. I always wanted that.”

“Really?”

He nodded, planting a chaste kiss on your forehead. “Who knew sex would make us closer friends?”

Your body ran cold, in the distance you could hear the shattering of glass far off from reality. You stayed frozen under his touch as he embraced you closer to his naked body, hooking his chin over your neck. “We should do this again. I wouldn’t mind getting used to this.”

That’s what you were scared of. Getting used to this. To this arrangement. To the sensation of his cock inside you. To the sense that it’d never be more than you hoped it would be. You’d never have Soonyoung be yours, but you knew somehow you’d always be his.

[lavenderspence]

unexplained sadness | A.H.

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x fem!reader | Word Count: 2.5K

Content warning: pre-established relationship, depression, mental health struggles, mentions of therapy, angst, supportive!aaron

Summary: you've struggled to find a way out from under the darkness for years, but you were thankful he offered the final push you needed.

A/N: I drafted this a few days, contemplating if I should even post it. it's very self-indulgent. I wrote it at a time when I wasn't able to understand my own feelings, and im still not sure how. I think this is the realest my writing has been, but i do think I'm posting this with the most vulnerability as well. I want you all to remember, just in case you're struggling - you're amazing, you're enough and I believe in you. Life is crazy, but it will get better, allow yourself to be patient, and most importantly, take the greatest, most gentle care of yourself 💕

masterlist

You looked around, well aware of the amount of relief that should be flooding your body right now. It usually did at the end of a case, where another monster was put to rot in a cage much appropriate for its’ sins. 

But even knowing what you should be feeling, the simple truth was - you weren’t feeling anything at all, and you hadn’t for a while. 

And even when you did feel something, you could never explain it. It was a mess, where many emotions fought a battle, but in the end, all it came down to was an endless void where the darkness and despair of the unexplained won out.

The only thing you could feel at that moment was the pressure of the vest compressing against your chest. It stole the little amount of oxygen in your lungs in favor of an overwhelming amount of hidden sadness. 

Even with the sun high up in the sky and the warmth it was supposed to spread all over your skin, you felt cold - no warmth actually penetrated the top layer of your skin. And the chatter - EMTs, police officers, and outlookers, you couldn’t process anything at all. 

It was like you were standing there, like a statue, a headstone to remind everyone of your presence once upon a time, but not anymore. Physically, you were alive and aware, but mentally, you’ve been fighting a battle you could confidently admit you were losing. 

Your thoughts were deeply wrapped in a cobweb of confusion and melancholy, a never-ending cycle that couldn’t stop repeating itself. It felt like you didn’t exist outside the realm of your own despair. Each day the shadows around you persisted in their pursuit of you, dragging in with them this empty feeling, designed to leave you feeling like a loner. 

The string holding you tethered to the person you’d been before was tinning each day as the distance between you grew bigger and bigger. You no longer even felt her presence at all. For weeks you’ve fought a silent battle against your own mind, and even your body sometimes. 

You tried to hide behind a mask of fake smiles and nights spent around the people you trusted most, hoping you’d feel better, but you never did. You only felt this state you were in, as it gained speed and grew in volume. 

But there was a certain pair of eyes that saw the subtle changes in you, straight into a place even you couldn’t see. Warm chocolate, sometimes shining amber in the sun - somehow strict but also oh so soft. 

You thought you hid it well, but you could never hide yourself from him, and you should have known. 

Your hotel room was dark and quiet, safe for the gentle light and sound that came from the TV. A movie was playing, an early 2000s song in the background. The duvet felt heavy over your body, and you longed to kick it off in an effort to feel less trapped, but you couldn’t find the strength to. It was like your whole body was paralyzed in a fatal position with your muscles locked and your eyes open but unseeing. 

Case after case came, and each day it got harder. You had to try and perfect a mask you were getting tired of wearing, tired of hiding behind. You couldn’t skip work, lest you wanted to feel like more of a failure than you already did sometimes. 

You felt scared to admit to your struggles, half unsure what your struggles were to begin with, half unwilling to unload on others. You were willing to suffer and fight this on your own until you either had nothing left to fight against or no strength left to fight at all.

Your mind was working overtime, half empty and dark, half full and constantly spinning, you didn’t even process the foreign sound at first. Only it wasn’t so foreign - a series of gentle raps or someone’s knuckles against the door. Knocking. They were just enough to alert you of a newcoming presence but not disturb you or others in any way. 

You didn’t move a muscle. Even when two more knocks followed, even more gentle than the first, all you could do was blink. Even with the soft call of your name that came seconds later, you couldn’t find the strength to answer or even get up. You couldn’t even twitch. 

You stood there frozen in place, in time. Frozen between the walls of a prison of your own mind’s making. 

The knocks stopped, as did the voice calling out your name, maybe finally resigned to the fact you weren’t answering at all. 

Giving up on you the way you’d given up on yourself. 

You would be surprised if you didn’t feel a tiny bit of relief at being left on your own. Too bad the relief didn’t actually last long - just seconds after the lock beeped, signaling it was unlocked, and the door was slowly opening, bathing the room in the hallway light. 

Even with the small, hesitant steps this person took, you were instantly able to tell by the sounds of his feet hitting the wooden floor who it was. 

“Did you know it’s actually illegal to break into someone’s space?” Your voice came out raspy from misuse. You weren’t sure how much time had actually passed since you made it to your room, but if you had to guess, probably several hours had gone by.

“I do know that actually, it’s criminal law 101.” He retorted before you felt the mattress dip close to your feet, “You missed dinner.” He mussed.

A part of you couldn’t handle having a conversation with him, not right now. Not in the complete darkness, and the quiet stretched between you both. 

“I wasn’t hungry.” You answered simply. You waited for him to say something, and you waited and waited, and he wasn’t saying anything. It was like he was looking for the right words to use, so as not to offend you, or set you off. But you wouldn’t feel any of it if he did - just as the night was dark outside and so was your mind. 

“Just spit it out, Hotch.” You finally used a part of his name, unintentionally closing the distance the smallest bit even when you tried to stay away. Maybe subconsciously you knew you could trust him, if a little.  

“You’re not doing well.” 

You didn’t even hesitate. “Wow, way to show you aren't actually a gentleman.”

“I’m not trying to...” You could almost see him shaking his head, so in tune with his reactions from years of working alongside him, “I’m worried about you.” It left him in a whisper, like he was afraid to admit it. 

“I’m okay, there’s no need.” You denied it like it was your biggest defense against his accusations. Except they weren’t that, genuine worry dripped along with his words, but you had a hard time accepting it. You couldn’t, didn’t want to. Being vulnerable, especially in front of him, could cost you a lot, and with the way you’ve been living, you couldn’t afford it.

Even when deep in your heart you trusted him with everything, even yourself. 

You felt him place his hand on the duvet, enclasping his palm around your calf. “You were okay five weeks ago, and you haven’t been since then. I’ve been watching you wear a mark and barely holding yourself from falling apart. I don’t think ‘okay’ applies right now.” 

“I thought we promised not to profile each other.” You muttered brokenly, feeling parts of the mask he was talking about cracking in places. It was like having him so close, peeling your outer layers slowly, and leaving you exposed, finally making your emotional reactions coincide with your lack of understanding. It was like he was exposing all of you both to himself and you too. 

“Not at the expense of suffering in silence, we didn’t.” He answered with conviction, no hesitation. He was making it apparent your wellbeing was more important to him than any promise he might have made to you or others. He was letting you know he was prioritizing your health over everything else. 

He understood you even without you having to say anything. Just by watching you try to swim to the surface of the ocean and still being pushed by the crashing waves, he could already feel that you were struggling. 

He could see you were self-isolating, even when you were being surrounded by people. He picked up on the signs in the subtle subject changes you made whenever someone asked anything about you. You were unwilling to share, even though you loved sharing any little detail about your interest, allowing others to do the same. 

You let Garcia talk about her software and cute animals and allowed Reid to share any little fact with you he could. But even when you listened, it wasn’t hard to see you really weren’t. Staring into spaces or faking an interest, even though he knew you would be interested in the first place, had there not been anything amis to begin with. 

And slowly piece after piece had started falling together, like a puzzle started, yet left abandoned. 

In the darkness of the hotel room, miles away from your home and mere doors down from the rest of your team, a piece deep inside you started longing for the understanding he was offering. It started building up with worry over the reality of the words you knew you needed to say but were too scared to. It started wishing for a new slate, where the overwhelming amount of confusion and empty darkness no longer followed you like a shadow. 

It slowly started coming to terms with the fact that you weren’t enough to fight this on your own and that maybe you needed help to do so.

For the first time in weeks, months, who knew, maybe even years, you wanted to talk about it. You wanted to admit to your state of mind where reality got mangled with your deepest darkest thoughts imaginable, where self-doubt and the feeling of worthlessness took over. Where giving up sounded so much better than trying out again. Where any positivity was instantly turned into negativity whether you liked it or not. 

For the first time you craved being helped, you wanted to understand your own struggles and get better. You wanted to thrive in the life you were living instead of settling for simply existing. You wanted to talk, and you wanted to tell him all that. 

You rolled your lips between your teeth before you bit down until you tasted blood. One of your hands barely made it out from underneath the warmth of the duvet before you grabbed into the bedding with a tight fist. 

“I don’t think I’m doing okay, Aaron.” You whispered into the darkness. The bed dipped and groaned as he moved closer, settling just centimeters away from your cocoon this time. You were so busy looking over the skyline that you didn’t even see his hand move until you felt his warm palm overtop your skin. He held onto you, trying to prompt you into releasing the bedding, tapping his fingers in a gentle manner. 

He was offering you comfort without really saying or doing anything. He was letting you try and put your thoughts together before you entrusted him with the truth. 

“One minute I’m good, and the next it feels like I lose all touch with my own self and my feelings - It’s all empty, or an overwhelming amount of sadness I couldn’t begin to even understand. I can’t even grasp what prompts this sudden change. I’ve tried fighting it for so long, years maybe, and each time it comes back, I’m left feeling more hopeless than the last.” You explained in a small voice. 

A wave of relief, if small, rocked your whole body. There was something freeling about saying it out loud, ignoring the fear of admitting that had followed you for years. 

“Have you ever told anyone about it?” His voice was just another shadow in the room. A timbre so calm, quiet, and soothing that you knew he was listening with no reservations and no judgments. Just a pure need to help.

You went to shake your head, but remembered you were both still looking towards the window. “I’ve always played it off as a joke. I’ve never let it sound like I really mean it. Not like I do right now.” It was one of the many truths you’d admitted to that night. Even when you played it off, you knew deep inside it was a small cry for help you didn’t want to. You were unwilling to take the right steps in order to get the help you needed. 

“Why joke about it?” You thought about it for a second, trying to clear out the fog of the past.

“I guess…” Your fingers clenched underneath his own. “I guess I just wanted to see if anyone cared enough to ask if I was serious. They didn’t.” Realistically, you knew you shouldn’t wait on other people or expect them to see something amiss before you looked for help. But a part deep enough inside you wanted the reassurance that someone loved you enough to notice.

“But you want to get help?” He mumbled, still tapping his finger against your own.

“Yes.” You didn’t even have to think about it. You owed yourself that much, and all the help possible you could get.

“Okay.” He exhaled in relief, “As soon as we get back, we’ll start looking, yeah?”

“Yeah.” You whispered. You felt his hand squeeze your own in reassurance. You turned your palm up, enveloped his own hand, and gave him one back, “Thank you, Aaron.”

A few minutes of looking at the starless sky passed before he prompted you to move, if just enough to walk into the bathroom and wash your face - and you did. When you came back, he’d made himself comfortable leaning against the headboard, legs stretched on the mattress. 

He spent the night sleeping in yesterday’s clothes, trying to make sure you were doing okay and weren’t left feeling lonely. 

You knew there was a long path ahead of you - the path to self-understanding and acceptance of your own flaws and struggles, as well as the changes you may need to adapt to moving forward. Something you were undoubtedly going to have a hard time with. Where you’d need to fight against the days when you questioned whether it was worth it. Where you’d slowly have to come to terms with the fact that as long as you were making yourself happy and keeping yourself afloat, there wasn’t anything worth more. 

The path to recovery was never supposed to be easy or linear, but you had him to thank for being the final push. You had to be thankful for each minute of the time he gave you. And each grain of love he showed you in the process. 

You needed the help - for yourself, your past, your present, and your future self. And for every second you spent failing to understand the person you were and the feelings you held onto.

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