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thebeast-dennis-etcetera · 26 days ago

Text

Family Friend

Prompt: Jack Hotchner is arrested for underage drinking and the first person he calls to bail him out, is you.

It was almost 2 in the morning when you received the call.

"Y/N?" You heard the familiar voice of Jack Hotchnner's voice speak. He sounded small and almost scared.

"Jack?" You sat up in bed, immediately awake. "Are you alright?"

"I did something stupid Y/N. My dad's gonna kill me."

His words were slightly slurred and slow, imitating that of someone who had been drinking a lot. A million scenarios went through your head as you sprang out from under the covers, rushing to put on a change of clothes, holding your cell between your shoulder and ear.

"What happened Jack? Where are you?"

"I'm in jail. They said I could call someone so I called you. I know my dad is out of the state on a case, please don't tell him," he pleaded.

"Honey, I have to, he's your father. But we can talk about it when I get there. What jail exactly are you at?"

Once you were decent, you grabbed your keys and headed out the door.

"Fairfax I think- Oh God, Y/N, I'm so stupid, I don't even know why I was there. I-

"Jack, sweetheart. Don't say anymore, I'm headed to you now alright? Just sit tight."

He sniffled and let out an intoxicated hiccup. "Ok."

Hanging up, you dialed Aaron's number and put it on speaker as you got into your SUV, driving in the direction of the jail. The call picked up on the third ring and Aaron's sleepy voice mirrored your concerned tone from earlier.

"Y/N? Everything alright?"

"Jack just called me. I guess he's been arrested in Alexandria. He's fine, he's safe, but he did sound like he had been drinking. I'm on my way to pick him up now."

"What? Did he tell you what happened?" You imagined that he was doing the same as you, getting out of bed and dressing to catch the soonest plane out.

"No, I didn't want him to tell me over the phone. I can call you back once I get there and talk with him, I just wanted to give you a heads up."

"Thank you. I'm on my way as well." His voice was low and slightly gruff, telling you that he was pissed but trying to conceal it. You'd memorized all of his subtle tone and posture changes over the years of knowing him, having spent the better part of those years as one of his underlings before transferring units.

"Don't worry about it tonight Aaron, I've got it. You've got a case to solve."

Luckily, all of the lights were working in your favor as you had yet to hit a red, bringing you closer to Jack sooner.

"The team will be fine without me. I'll be there first thing tomorrow morning."

You knew there was no stopping him. He was as stubborn as a mule and you honestly couldn't blame him when it came to the fact that his son was just arrested for God knows what.

"And Y/N. Thank you. For being there."

You were glad he wasn't there to see the slight blush creeping into your face at his words as your voice spoke calmly, a strong opposite of what you were feeling.

"Of course Aaron. I'll always be there for you guys."

Your words lingered in the back of your mind after the both of you hung up, silently mocking your lovesick emotions. For years, the both of you had always kept your friendship that of which it was. A friendship, nothing more. As much as you may have wanted it to be something a little more...intimate. There were times you thought Aaron may have felt the same, by the way he looked at you just a second longer than necessary or how protective he'd get whenever he found out you were going out on a date. But he never voiced such sentiments to you, if he had any at all, causing you to bury your own.

It seemed to be the night that everyone was being arrested as you walked into the police station and towards the booking desk.

"I'm here for Jack Hotchner, he was brought in sometime tonight," you stated to the officer. She gave you a once over before typing into the computer, presumingly looking him up.

"Oh yeah. Looks like he was picked up from a neighborhood party for underage drinking. He's in the drunk tank. Hasn't stopped crying and telling everyone that his father is a FBI agent. That true?"

You sighed at the dramatics she described and sighed before answering. "Yes he is, and I'm Special Agent L/N, a family friend." You flashed your credentials, satisfying her interest and continuing on with the process of bail. 500 dollars later and a short phone call to Aaron to update him on everything, they delivered the still very drunk Jack Hotchner to you.

He practically ran into your arms, crying. "Y/N, I'm so sorry."

If you weren't such a sucker for the kid, you would've been giving him a very stern lecture on his reckless behavior. But you were a sucker and all you could do was hug him back tight and speak gently. "You're alright, I'm just glad you're safe. C'mon, let's get you home."

You thanked the cops and left the building, Jack following close behind obediently. Once the two of you were in the car and on your way back, you decided to have a few words.

"This can't happen again, Jack. You know that, right?"

He seemed to be fading in and out of sleep but was coherent enough to give you a nod of acknowledment.

"Just because you're not in jail anymore, doesn't mean there won't still be a punishment. You broke the law and your dad is not happy about that."

Suddenly at the mention of his father, his eyes sprung open in alarm.

"You told him?"

"Of course I told him Jack. He was planning on flying back the minute I told him the news but I managed to get him to at least wait until tomorrow so you can sleep off the alcohol and he can have some time to calm down. You're welcome."

He threw his head back, cringing his face, making you believe that he was gonna start crying again. "He's gonna kill me."

"Well I highly doubt that sweetheart but I'll be there just in case, to make sure the both of you stay calm, alright?"

He groaned in acceptance and you shook your head smiling at his childlike behavior.

- - - -

Using the spare key Aaron gifted to you a few months back, you helped Jack into his house and led him into his room. Flopping onto his bed and passing out almost immediately, you sighed before straightening him out and taking off his shoes, then covering him up with a blanket and turning out his light.

You knew he was fine to be in the house by himself, but still you stayed, taking minimal space on the massive sectional couch and covering yourself with a throw blanket, noticing how it smelt faintly of Aaron. It didn't take long for the sleep to find you.

- - - -

You woke up with a jolt as the sound of the front door closing echoed in the quiet house, sitting up and catching Aaron's eye. He seemed surprised to see you as he walked over to the dining room table and set his keys and briefcase down.

"Sorry I woke you. I didn't know you spent the night," he spoke softly, loosening his tie.

"Yeah, I didn't want to leave him here alone in the state he was in. He must've had a lot to drink."

A sigh escaped his lips while running a hand over his face, his expression looking tired and overworked. You could only imagine the stress he went through being a single father and Unit Chief as well as the toll it took on his mind and body. Getting up, you folded the throw blanket neatly and walked over into the kitchen, deciding to make the both of you a pot of coffee.

"I don't know why he's so out of control lately. Last week the school told me he's been skipping classes and receiving detention on a daily basis."

You figured Jack was still sound asleep considering that it was only 7 in the morning so there was no chance he'd hear the two of you talking.

"He's not out of control Aaron. He's just being a teenager. A teenager that lost his mother and barely sees his father, he's bound to act out a little."

You prepared the coffee, knowing exactly where everything was, having done these motions numerous times before. Some of your best memories with Aaron were ones where the two of you shared a pot in the late night and talked about anything and everything, just enjoying each others presence. You pushed away the momentary thought and grabbed two mugs from the cabinet.

"I just wish I knew what to do," he sighed. "He's getting more and more distant from me and I feel helpless about it."

You turned to face him, settling you hand on his arm, grabbing his attention. "Just be there for him. And tell him that. He'll come around eventually. He just needs to work through the emotions he's feeling."

He didn't answer but continued holding your gaze, a flicker of something behind his eyes that made you subconsciously hold your breath. "Thank you Y/N. For staying." His voice was soft- tentative almost. You watched his eyes glance down at your lips momentarily, the air now thick with tension. You stood there frozen as he took a small step forward, bringing his body closer to yours and his head tilting down to compensate the height difference.

"Aaron.." you whispered, his name almost spoken as a warning, worried that if he crossed whatever boundary there had been, he'd regret it and that would be the end of your friendship.

"Am I reading this wrong?" he asked, his eyes searching yours for an answer. He didn't lean in any further though. Didn't make a move to kiss you but his close presence was plenty. You could smell the cologne he would wear every once in a while, making your head dizzy.

"I just don't want you to regret this later on," you admitted to him, fearing he's end up agreeing with you. Instead, to your surprise, he reached a hand out to hold your cheek in his hand, making your eyes flutter shut briefly.

"The only regret I have is not doing this sooner." He leaned in, capturing your lips in his which you were more than happy to reciprocate. The kiss was everything you had dreamt it be. He was gentle, loving almost, in the way his arm came around your waist and slowly pulled you in. There was no rush, it was just you and him in the quiet house, everything else forgotten about, including the teenager who had unknowingly left his room to walk right into the living room, seeing everything.

"It's about time," he interrupted, making you practically jump away from Aaron.

"Jack." Your response was breathless, Aaron succeeding in taking it away seconds before. "I wasn't expecting you to be up so early."

You turned to step away from Aaron, which he allowed, but still kept his hand resting on your waist, a small knowing smirk on his face.

"Just because you were right about this, doesn't mean you're off the hook," Aaron said, making Jack roll his eyes lightheartedly. You spun to Aaron with a look of shock.

"Have you two been conspiring about me?" You were surprised of course, but also flattered that Jack felt so comfortable with you to talk with his father about his romantic feelings towards you.

Aaron shrugged his shoulders in admission. "Maybe just a little bit," he said, the tiniest of a blush creeping up his neck. "I just wasn't expecting for it to happen this morning, especially after all the chaos."

"Which I'm totally sorry for, Y/N. Thanks for coming to get me," Jack added. You walked over and brought the boy in for a tight hug that he pretended to not enjoy but eventually gave up and hugged you back. "I'm just glad you're safe and hopefully learned a valuable lesson," you spoke, pulling him back and giving him a once over. "Also, how are you up at 7 in the morning? If I had as much to drink as you looked like you did, I'd be dead till at least noon."

He chuckled and ran a nervous hand through his hair, something you noticed Aaron also did on occasion. "This wasn't my first time, Y/N. I've been drunker."

You gasped and looked over at Aaron who could only shake his head in disapproval but ultimately already knowing about it.

You turned back to Jack. "Well this time, it won't be just your father in charge of punishment. I'm gonna have some say in it as well. I know Spencer has an upcoming lecture on the Theory of Relativity this week. I think it'd be very informational for you."

The horrid expression on his face was exactly what you were looking for. "What?! No! Please, not uncle Spence's lectures. I'll do community service, babysitting, anything but that," he pleaded to his father, who threw his hands up in surrender but didn't lose the amused smile.

"I think it's a great idea. Consider that the beginning of the punishment as well. Now go get showered and dressed, you're gonna come with me to run some errands."

Groaning in disapproval, he did as he said and walked off down the hall to his room. You felt the warmth of Aaron come up behind you and pull you in, resting his head on your shoulder, arms around your stomach. "Good idea on the punishment," he praised, kissing your cheek.

You chuckled while moving to face him, a look of jest in your eyes. "Oh, you're not in the clear either, mister. I think I deserve a proper date after the secret scheming you and Jack have been up to."

The gaze of tenderness and affection glimmered in his eyes gave you butterflies and the ultimate need to pull him in for another kiss. You honestly felt like you could kiss the man forever.

When you both pulled away, he spoke. "How about tonight? I'll pick you up from your place around 6? You could wear that dress you've been talking about wanting to wear."

A big smile appeared on your face at his words, excited for the evening. You stayed just a little longer, sharing a cup of coffee with Aaron, giving some drunk advice to Jack before you all parted your separate ways. Knowing you'd see the both of them so soon, filled your heart with joy and the smiled never faded the whole drive home.

#aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #thomas gibson #bau team

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ugh-yoongi · 19 days ago

Note

hi. i would like to request seungcheol (obviously). all i request is enemies-to-lovers. you may do with this what you wish. i leave it up to you to decide exactly how you will ruin my life 😌

tysm for the request my beloved !! he is so enemies to lovers coded i had TEWWW many thoughts (and started three separate wips oops), but here we are. i hope u enjoy this !! can't wait to get the collab fics out of the way so i can torture u further with baseball dk. i picked dodgers hat!cheol just for u. ♡

— we need to talk

pairing: choi seungcheol x f. reader summary: sometimes the only way to win the game is to not play, but sometimes it's not a game at all—sometimes it's four years of emotional build-up with nowhere left to hide. genre: enemies (kinda) w benefits to lovers; frat/university au; smut, angst?, fluff rating: explicit. minors do not interact with this or any of my work. warnings: frat boys. gendered language and insults. swearing. mentions of drugs & drug use (vernon is literally a drug dealer 🤷🏻‍♀️) as well as alcohol. possessive, jealous seungcheol who is extremely down bad and kind of an asshole and would be toxic af irl but is fine in fanfiction probably. this is maybe more "people who used to fuck and started disliking each other along the way bc they can't figure out their feelings" to lovers than enemies. there are very slight, very meaningless mingyu x reader undertones here. jeonghan is a bastard. feelings you think are unrequited but alas! this got softer than i intended oops. smut warnings: seungcheol truly is a man driven to the brink of madness bc of pussy idk what to say. kissing. hair pulling. mentions of masturbation. the dynamics shift in this one a lot, but to be overly cautious i will say dom!cheol and slightly dom!reader undertones that are not implicitly stated or defined. seungcheol uses the term "whore" once, sorry. oral sex (f. receiving). pussy slapping. unprotected sex. if i missed any pls lmk. wordcount: 8k. no i do not know what a drabble is, leave me alone. author's note: title from the song of the same name by waterparks but this was actually brought to you by "i'll never stop" by nsync bc it's their best song and fit the vibes perfectly. anyway, i still do not love writing smut but i am insane over this man so whatever, we persevere. everyone go shower mj in lots of love bc she's the best and deserves it. also everyone say thank u @the-boy-meets-evil for looking over this for me. i did not look at this again after she beta'd it so any mistakes are of my own stupidity. <3

Seungcheol is incensed.

What in the fuck are you thinking, showing up here? Ignoring him, walking by him with nothing more than a brush to the elbow and that sultry, electric gaze? A pair of painted-on jeans and a sheer top?

Who the fuck had invited you?

He looks around the room, gaze heavy under his furrowed brow. Bass thumps in his ears, the music so loud he can feel it in his chest. Still, his feet stay planted on the floor, already sticky with spilled alcohol and god knows what else. He needs to find Vernon—just needs something to get through this very unexpected (and very unpleasant) surprise, take the edge off.

But he can’t see through the sea of people. They’re everywhere, occupying every inch of available space in the house, but he just needs a glimpse of that mop of cornflower blue hair. If he could just—

Instead, he sees a streak of white-blond in his peripheral vision. “Soonyoung!” he calls, grabbing the man by the arm. “Hey, have you seen Vernon?”

Soonyoung stares up at him with glassy, bloodshot eyes, his breath already stinking of alcohol as he shrugs and says, “Dunno, hyung. Think he’s upstairs.”

Fingers still wrapped around his bicep, Seungcheol heaves a sigh. “Go find Jeonghan. He’s on babysitting duty and you’re already fucked.”

“I’m fine,” Soonyoung argues, slurred words giving him away immediately.

Seungcheol scoffs. “Bro, you can barely stand and you reek of shitty vodka. Go drink some water.”

As he sends Soonyoung away, he can feel eyes boring into him, tension wound tight in the center of his back that refuses to dissipate no matter how many times he rolls his shoulders. He turns slowly, already knowing exactly what he’ll find, but knowing does little to stop the hitch of breath as he takes you in.

And he hates it. Fuck, he hates the effect you have on him more than anything.

Hates that he’s still pining after you. Hates that all you have to do is look at him and he’s putty in your hands. Hates that you’re the first person he looks for in a room, the last person on his mind before he falls asleep. Hates you, hates that all of this is unreciprocated, because if Choi Seungcheol is anything, it’s proud. He’s rich, he’s good-looking, he’s pre-law, and the president of this fraternity, for fuck’s sake—he should not be hung up on a girl.

But he’d been doomed from the beginning. Ever since you’d been assigned to him as a challenge to overcome, an impossible task to conquer, he’d been helplessly, pathetically smitten with you.

And fuck if you didn’t know it, too.

So, it’s a game now. A lifetime’s worth of pining for Seungcheol all because his frat was misogynistic and refused to keep up with the times. They’d nodded in your direction and laughed at the confusion on his face, the knot between his brows. Seungcheol couldn’t figure out why his initiation was to fuck a girl, one his brothers wouldn’t even address by name, but when he’d approached you at a party and you’d immediately told him to go fuck himself, he’d figured it out pretty quick.

Call it determination, call it a stubborn streak that refused to quit, but the two of you soon came to a reluctant agreement: you would let Seungcheol lie to his frat, figuring he was attractive enough that people thinking you’d slept together wouldn’t be complete social suicide, and he’d owe you a favor you’d keep in your back pocket for as long as it took to cash in.

Which hadn’t taken long. The stress of finals that first year had gotten to all of you, and it wasn’t long before you were at his door looking for his drug-dealing roommate and a quick fuck.

That was the second time Seungcheol had been doomed to hopeless pining, because once he had you, he knew it’d be impossible to let you go.

Short of outright saying the words, he’d all but told you as much during some alcohol-induced brain shortage junior year. And, in turn, you’d all but laughed in his face.

Right.

Of course.

That was to be expected.

So, you’d continued your… well, whatever this is: quick fucks when both of you were bored or lonely or horny, usually under the influence of something illegal; a mutually tense but beneficial relationship for each of you, because you had been Seungcheol’s initiation and the initiation itself awarded him connections and opportunities. You got a back-up plan. A safe body and warm bed to retreat to when the need arose—one who clearly wanted it to be something more, but was, all things considered, fine with the current arrangement. Didn’t pressure you.

But, as was also to be expected, it was never going to be that simple when feelings got involved. When he started feeling slighted. When he wanted you so bad he ached with it sometimes and it was beneath you to care. Which is why he really, really needs to find Vernon. If he’s going to endure an entire party with you, he’s not going to do it sober.

He takes the steps two at a time, feet stumbling onto the landing as soon as he reaches it. Vernon’s door is the third on the left, and he can hear a separate, distinct bass line from the one booming downstairs that hums louder the closer he gets.

And Vernon knows. Of course he does, because he’s yanking his door open before Seungcheol has even raised a hand to knock, the stench of weed seeping out into the hallway, and all he needs is a quick look at Seungcheol before he pulls the door open wider and says, “Ladies and gentlemen, the President of the United States of America,” as if he’s speaking into a microphone. When Seungcheol doesn’t react, he awkwardly tacks on, “Hi, hyung. I’m assuming she’s here.”

Seungcheol nods, dumbly, and stands as awkwardly in the center of the room as someone who’s about to ask their roommate for drugs tends to be. “Yeah.” Shoves his hands in the pockets of his overpriced jeans so Vernon can’t see the sheen of sweat.

“You looking for somethin’ specific?” he asks, rifling through the top drawer of a tall dresser. “Like, is this an I’m about to fuck her the rest of the night visit or an I need something to help me forget she doesn’t actually like me visit?”

The words come like a reflex. “Fuck you,” he seethes. Vernon’s not wrong, per se, but he didn’t have to go and just… say it like that.

Vernon just shrugs, one side of his worn-out collar slipping down his shoulder as he does so, and Seungcheol can’t tell if he’s actually dressed for the party or not. “Gonna guess it’s the second one, then.”

Seungcheol scoffs. “Well, it’s not,” he insists, knowing damn well he should let it go, that he’s just digging himself a bigger hole, but the truth sits in the pit of his stomach like lead.

And, really, he knows he just needs to accept it. That little strand of hope hasn’t brought him anything but more pain—allowed him to delude himself into thinking it could be something more, something tangible—and it’s time to let it go.

You don’t want more.

You don’t want the label and the relationship.

You don’t want him.

He knows this, but it still tastes sour in his mouth. Still tastes like the chill of autumn when you’d first showed up at his door all that time ago. Tastes like all the blunts you’ve shared and the liquor from all the parties you’d snuck away in the middle of. Tastes like the sharp notes of your perfume, the ones that’d coat his tongue when he’d kiss down your neck—the same notes that stain his bedsheets.

Mostly, it’s the pitying look Vernon’s giving him that hurts the most. He’s above pity. Doesn’t need it, especially not from Vernon Chwe, but it hurts all the same to be on the receiving end of it.

“Give me whatever you’ve got.”

Vernon’s face quickly morphs into surprised concern. “Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I mean, I’ve got some pretty heavy shit here.”

Heat flares in his belly. The pity was bad enough—now he wants to be patronizing? “Then give me whatever the fuck you think I need,” he snaps. “I don’t care. I don’t have time for this shit.”

“Well, you definitely need to chill,” Vernon mumbles. “You want some dabs?”

“No. Something…” The word feels thick in his mouth. Stronger implies that Seungcheol does heavy drugs, and that’s not true. “Else,” he finally finishes.

Vernon sighs as he continues rifling through the drawer. “Your dad would fucking kill me if I gave you my real heavy shit, so…” He pauses, eyebrows raising in triumph as he finds what he was looking for: a small baggie filled halfway with some nondescript powder. “You want a bump?”

Maybe he should be ashamed at how quickly he agrees, at the urgency and greed with which he grabs the baggie from Vernon’s fingers, but he just needs something. Needs the distraction, the brain fog. He shoves it in his back pocket next to his wallet. “How much do I owe you?”

Vernon wrinkles his nose. “Nah. Consider that one a freebie. No offense, but you’re a real piece of shit when you’re like this.”

The implication only pisses him off more. Seungcheol is loaded—he can afford to pay his drug dealer, thank you very much—but he’s not like anything. “I’m sorry?”

True to his nature, Vernon barely shrugs. “I’ll put it on your tab, hyung,” he says in a way that implies he’s not at all going to do that and is only saying so to get the fraternity president off his back.

Jeonghan (23:12) Better come get your girl. Kim Mingyu’s dick looks like it’s halfway up her ass by now. Jeonghan (23:12) Uh oh! I think I just saw a testicle

Seungcheol stares down at his phone, hands trembling in anger. Of course it’s Mingyu. That pathetic loser has been taking up residence on the subs bench ever since you’d made out with him months ago in an admittedly successful attempt at payback. Seungcheol had hooked up with some downgrade at a party one time and you’d gone and made out with his friend. It was hardly a fair trade.

Seungcheol (23:14) Good for Mingyu, he can deal with her then Seungcheol (23:14) I’m busy Jeonghan (23:14) Doing what? Jerking off in the upstairs bathroom again? Jeonghan (23:15) Do you know what size condom he wears btw? Looks like I might need to fetch him one if you don’t want to take care of another man’s baby Jeonghan (23:16) Although, to be fair, you might want to sit this one out. He has way better bone structure than you. Might be a blessing in disguise Seungcheol (23:16) Fuck you Jeonghan (23:16) Better be nice to me, Choi Seungcheolie~ that might be the only fuck you get tonight

Seungcheol needs better friends. He needs a lot of things, really, but number one on his to-do list is to never let Jeonghan be on babysitting duty ever again. Somehow he’d forgotten how obnoxious Yoon Jeonghan is when he isn’t stoned and half-asleep on a couch somewhere.

For now, he just stomps down the hallway; locks himself in his room and doesn’t bother to turn on the light. He’s not going to be here long. Just enough time to do this line, change his t-shirt, and come up with a game plan, because he’s not going to let Mingyu even entertain the thought of being able to have you but he also can’t appear desperate. Not just to you, but to everyone else. Choi Seungcheol is not clingy, especially not over a girl.

Especially especially over a girl who doesn’t even want him like that.

But the longer he sits in the dark, the more trouble he has finding his resolve. Can’t bring himself to dig that baggie out of his pocket. Can’t drag his t-shirt over his head. Can’t bring himself to think about anything other than Mingyu’s hands all over you, and fuck, does that image drive him insane.

Does he touch you like Seungcheol does?

Does he coax those same jagged whimpers from your mouth like Seungcheol does?

Does his semi-hard cock feel as good pressed against you?

God, he’s so fucked. Utterly and completely fucked. And he wonders if this would be as bad if he’d just kept his mouth shut, took that secret to his grave instead of fooling himself into thinking it could be more. If it wouldn’t have devolved into… this. You’d always told him not to get attached, that sex was just sex and there was no need to ruin a good thing. But Seungcheol is a selfish man, always has been, and what if? is a dangerous question.

Jeonghan (23:36) Wow, you’re a fucking pussy. Stop hiding in your room like a little bitch. Seungcheol (23:36) Fuck off

He can’t go down there. Not because he’s a coward, but because he’s barely tethered to his sanity as it is. Something about you brings him out of his mind, makes him toss whatever good judgment he has left to the wind. Seungcheol is far too impulsive when it comes to you, reckless in ways that have all twenty years of his social training weeping in a corner; have alarm bells ringing in his brain. So, no, he can’t go downstairs right now because he knows he’ll do something stupid. Stick not only his foot but his entire lower body in it. He should’ve listened, yet here he is, dick pulled halfway out of his jeans because the thought of you alone gets him hard but his pride won’t let him jerk off to the image of anyone touching you that’s not him.

Forget whatever Jeonghan had called him. He’s a fucking fool. A moonstruck, delusional fool who’d tricked himself into thinking he could swim when he can barely tread water.

You (23:41) Something wrong?

Oh, here we fucking go, he thinks. Because this is Seungcheol’s game—one he’d perfected years ago, the one where he’s coy and chilly, never too eager, never committed. Just a little bit of a tease. Barely enough to keep them on the hook, a little needy; still enough to keep them coming back. But you’d taken one look at him all those years ago and had him pegged immediately. Figured out his game and learned the rules, used them against him. Now you watch him flounder with a smile on your face.

Seungcheol (23:42) Never knew you were so needy baby. First you show up uninvited and now youre missing me?

But just because there’s now a player two doesn’t mean he’s doomed to lose. He knows how you look when you’re on your knees for him. Knows how you sound when you’re begging to cum and stuttering out his name like you’re singing hymns. Knows how you look with your eyes rolled back after he’s fucked you dumb. Kim Mingyu doesn’t know shit.

Seungcheol knows he’s the only one fortunate enough to experience you like this.

And god does it kill him.

You (23:44) Don’t act stupid

A pleased exhale of laughter, an equally-smug smirk. Yeah, this is still Seungcheol’s game, the crown still sitting atop his head. You can let Mingyu grind his dick against you all you want, but Seungcheol is still the one you’re seeking out, pouting at the fact he hasn’t come to find you yet.

You (23:44) Mingyu invited me

Oh, you’re good—know just which buttons to press and how much pressure to use. Whatever smug expression Seungcheol had been wearing slides off his face immediately, tongue pressing into his cheek.

Seungcheol (23:46) And yet youre looking for me? You (23:47) Don’t have to look for you to know you’re upstairs sulking in your room because Jeonghan tattled on me like a fucking five year old Seungcheol (23:49) Maybe you should come up here then Seungcheol (23:49) Away from prying eyes

You don’t reply immediately. It’s just long enough for Seungcheol’s brain to conjure up something indecent—the way you’ll straddle him, the way his cock will feel pressed against the apex of your thighs; the goosebumps that’ll raise on his arms when you work your tongue along his neck, that spot near his collarbone you know he likes. His cock throbs against the confines of his jeans when he thinks about the devastated look on Mingyu’s face when you make up some excuse to get away from him, to traipse up the stairs and fall into Seungcheol’s bed, when he realizes he’s not going to have you.

You (23:56) It’d be pretty rude to leave my date, don’t you think? You (23:57) If you want me so bad, come down here and get me yourself

Seungcheol doesn’t play games; doesn’t compete because he has no competition. He’s always been given whatever he wants on a silver platter, no questions asked, so he’s wholly unprepared for this turn of events. What he knows he should do (respond to your text and tell you to fuck off, that you know where he is should you stop being a brat and change your mind) is not what he does (tucks his dick back in his jeans, finally throws on a clean t-shirt, and takes his time descending the stairs so he doesn’t look too eager), because logical thought gets tossed out the window entirely wherever you’re concerned.

“Ah, if it isn’t our resident pissbaby making his grand re-entrance.”

Seungcheol clenches his jaw for the nth time and glares. “Fuck off, Jeonghan.”

The man in question laughs—the annoying raspy one that grates on Seungcheol’s nerves—and hands over a cup of something brown and pungent. “Well, judging from your attitude, and the fact you’re barely hiding that boner you’ve got, you clearly didn’t spend your time away jerking off. What finally got you down here, the promise of cheap whiskey I nicked off some freshman or the fact that your girlfriend’s about two seconds from getting a public indecency charge courtesy of Kim Mingyu?”

Well. Jeonghan may be an asshole but he’s not wrong. Even through the crowd of people and the haze of whatever’s in his cup and a contact high, Seungcheol spots you immediately. Your back is pressed against Mingyu’s chest, his fingers gripping tight at your waist as you roll your hips in time with his. Whatever manufactured filth he’s whispering to you draws a smile, causes you to reach up and tug sharply at his hair. Fuck, Seungcheol can almost hear Mingyu’s moan from across the room, and his blood quickly heats to a rapid boil.

Another chuckle from the demon beside him. “Stop fucking laughing,” Seungcheol snaps, still unable to take his eyes off of you. “Fuck this. I’m going back upstairs. Make sure everyone’s out of here by three. I’m not paying for another noise citation.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes. “I’m absolutely not going to do that.” He shoves a bottle of something in Seungcheol’s hand. “Take this and think of me when you’re crying yourself to sleep because Mingyu stole guaranteed pussy right out of your hands.”

“Why do you do this?” Seungcheol asks, shoving at Jeonghan’s shoulder roughly. “You never know when to fucking quit.”

Another streak of white-blond. “Hey, no fighting!” Soonyoung slurs, trying his best to push Seungcheol to the other side of the kitchen with his useless, limp arms.

This attracts the attention of Joshua, who struts into the room looking straight out of Fashion Week, much like he always does. He hasn’t even broken a sweat. “Aw, are Mom and Dad fighting again?” he asks, his lips tugged into a smirk. He ignores Seungcheol’s scowl as he fixes himself a drink. “You know Mingyu only does it to get a reaction out of you,” Joshua adds, quieter this time, as if he’s telling Seungcheol a secret only meant for the two of them to share.

“What’s her excuse, then?” Seungcheol fires back, because even if he doesn’t like it, Joshua’s right. This is exactly the kind of behavior he’d expect from resident campus whore Kim Mingyu, but he never expected you to go along with it.

Joshua cocks an eyebrow. “She doesn’t need an excuse, Cheol. She’s not your girl.”

Even though it’s a truth he already knows, it somehow hurts worse being spoken in plaintext, a hushed conversation in a crowded kitchen. Being let down gently. Seungcheol knows he needs to make a decision. He needs to let you go and start moving on with his life; can’t be having these quasi-meltdowns during frat parties anymore. Can’t be possessive and spiteful. You don’t want him. Everyone knows you don’t want him, so that’s all there is to it. Maybe you’ll want Mingyu and he can finally wash his hands of this forever, scrape the jealousy off his tongue.

He steels himself. Rolls his shoulders back, cracks his neck. Navigates the crowd in the living room until he reaches you and your so-called date. Grabs you by the elbow—gentle enough that it doesn’t hurt but firm enough to send a message—and says the two of you need to talk. Upstairs. Now. Mingyu just smiles like he knew this was coming and presses a pointless, wasted kiss just below your ear. Seungcheol tells him to fuck off, too, and Mingyu grins wider, tongue darting out to wet his lips.

As he guides you to his room, he doesn’t think about the way your hand fits in his. Doesn’t think about how this is going to be the last time he has you. Doesn’t think about who’ll have you after. Doesn’t bother to wonder if you’ve finally changed your mind like he had all those other times he’d walked this same familiar path with you in tow. Because it’s the last time. Whatever happens once it’s over is out of his control.

Perhaps that’s what it’d always been about. Seungcheol has always been spoiled and selfish and so terribly, terribly desperate to prove he’s more than his family name and family money. So, yeah, he’d wanted the control; wanted what was never his for the taking. You’d always been the opposite—his perfect little counterpart. Always so pliant and careless and free: everything Seungcheol tried so hard to be but couldn’t, and that’s where the switch flipped.

Someone like you isn’t meant to be controlled.

What he used to want so badly now tastes rancid in his mouth.

The door locks behind you. Seungcheol doesn’t meet your eye as he says, “You got what you wanted. Are you done being a fucking brat?” It’s not a tone he usually takes. Usually he’s dirty, a little possessive, willing to let you set the pace. He doesn’t miss the way your breath hitches. “I asked you a question.”

“Seungcheol—”

He clicks his tongue, stalks closer until you’re nearly in his grasp. Your eyes close instinctively as if you’re expecting his mouth on yours. Instead, he threads his long fingers in your hair and pulls. “What’s so hard about answering a simple yes or no question? Did you really want Mingyu’s dick so bad you’ve gone dumb all of a sudden?”

You gasp. “No.”

“No what?” Seungcheol chides. “No, you’re not done being a brat? Or no, you weren’t just downstairs acting desperate and pathetic for mediocre cock?” He runs his thumb across the seam of your lips, follows their movements as you speak.

“I wasn’t—”

A low, mocking chuckle. “You were, baby.” Sounds condescending; speaks to you like you’re a stupid child. He’s so close to you now. Can smell the tang of your skin, the sticky notes of your perfume. Feels your breath fan against his own sweat-slick skin. Still avoids your gaze, because as domineering as he appears, he knows he can unravel just as quickly. “Take your clothes off. This is the last time I’m gonna fuck you and I’m not going to ask twice.”

Now you truly look caught off-guard. “What?” Still he ignores you, expensive silver rings clinking into a dish on his dresser one by one, expensive watch following. “What do you mean the last time?”

Deft fingers play at the buttons on his shirt. Not silk, but just as expensive. “Shit. You’re really testing my patience, you know.” You’re still standing at the edge of his bed, staring dumbly as if he’s just going to start spilling all his secrets, give you some kind of explanation. “I believe I told you to strip.”

Unlike Seungcheol, your fingers tremble as they work at buttons and zippers and hemlines, push down denim and remove heels. It’s clear you’re trying to work out what he’s playing at—if this is some punishment for fucking around with Mingyu or if he really means it—but you’re not going to risk asking. Things between the two of you are already tense as it is. Seungcheol has never been wound this tight, never been so ready to snap.

“That’s it,” he praises once you’re left in nothing but a skimpy underwear set you know he likes. “Look at you. Fucking gorgeous. I bet that’s why you think you can get away with embarrassing me, huh?” He grabs your chin, forces you to meet his gaze for the first time since he’d dragged you up here. “Get on your knees. I’m getting tired of repeating myself.”

It’s not an unfamiliar sight—as it is, you usually leave Seungcheol’s room with bruised knees on a good night—but it settles differently in his gut this time. Because he’d dared a glance at you once and knows he can’t do it again, so he watches the top of your head as you fumble with his belt buckle and looks away whenever he thinks you might risk a glance upwards. Finds some point on the wall to focus on. Hisses through his teeth when you pull his cock from his briefs, your hands cold against his flushed skin.

All he wants to do is kiss you. Draw this out. Give you a memorable last time, maybe mark you up a little. He really wants to savor the feeling of your tongue on his cock, but all he can focus on is the fact that he’ll never be enveloped in that wet heat again. He’s never going to feel your mouth working him over, feel you humming around his length because he knows you love the weight of it, you love wrenching away that little bit of control, turning him into a mess.

But he’s not going to dwell. He’s going to thumb at the hinge of your jaw, force it open just wide enough for his cock to fit inside. Then he’s going to fist your hair into a makeshift ponytail, grip it tight, use it to guide your mouth until there’s only an inch of space between you. He’s going to stare down at you, silently revel in how fucked out you look already even though he hasn’t touched you. He’s going to watch the way your fingers dig into your thighs because they can’t touch him. Then he’s going to say—

“Beg me. Beg me to let you suck my cock.”

There’s a flicker of hesitation. Seungcheol doesn’t talk to you like this. This is not the kind of dynamic the two of you have, and Seungcheol finds himself wondering if things would be different if it was. If he’d never started going so easy on you. Would you want him then? Or would you have left a long time ago?

He’s half-expecting you to do that now. You look ready to bolt, to pull your clothes back on and tell him to go fuck himself on the way out. Probably go straight back to Mingyu, let him fuck you hard but routine, the way Seungcheol usually does, the way he knows you like. He expects you to leave, and this is the last time, anyway, so he figures he has nothing left to lose.

“I’m going soft,” he snaps, the admonishment harsh on his tongue. When you look up at him, his jaw is clenched, eyes narrow. “You have one fucking job and you can’t even do that properly? Who’s going to want a dumb little whore that can’t follow simple instructions?”

He watches your eyes squeeze shut involuntarily. Wonders if he’s gone too far before deciding he doesn’t care if he has. It’s the last time, anyway, so it’s not like it matters. Watches the indents in your thighs grow deeper. Watches you inhale and try to steady your breathing.

Watches your eyes snap open, any trace of hesitation long gone. “Did you make that other girl beg for you?”

Seungcheol snorts, amusement showing all over his face. “Is that what this is about? You’re still mad I hooked up with some other girl so you act like this?” He clicks his tongue at you, fists his cock, slicking it up. “Are you jealous?”

“No,” you answer simply, “I’m just trying to figure out why you think you can speak to me however the fuck you want.”

Seungcheol’s hand stutters along his length before it stills, your words sharp and immediate against his skin. He should’ve known. Shouldn’t have thought something like this would work on you, that you’d like it, and he’s halfway to soft and throwing his hands up and tucking his dick back into his briefs when you say, “Answer the question.”

“What?”

You tsk. Move your hands from your thighs to his, nails pressing just deep enough to leave crescent moons behind that match your own. Something for someone else to see. “Did you make her beg for you?”

Seungcheol’s brain power decreases the higher your palms go, when your thumbs press into the dimples of his hips. Can barely choke out a hissed yes, yeah, fu-fuck when your hand covers his, fingers wrapping tightly around his own as you guide it back and forth, up and down the length of his cock. “What did you make her beg for, Cheol?”

“To—to to-touch me.”

You hum. Tighten your grip on Seungcheol’s hand and laugh as his hips roll involuntarily, seeking the friction. “Touch you how? Like this?”

“Yeah—fuck, yes, like this.”

“Did she? Did she listen to you like a good girl?” Your hand leaves Seungcheol’s only to collect the precum at his tip. “Don’t get all shy now, Cheolie.” You suck your thumb into your mouth and he whines. “Was she a good girl for you?”

You sit back on your haunches. Watch him jerk himself off. “Yeah,” he finally says, word cracking in the middle. “Boring, though. Not like—not like you.”

“No one is like me,” you admonish. “I could’ve told you that for free, before you went off and fucked someone else.”

“Not an idiot,” Seungcheol replies, the pace of his hand quickening. He’s playing a dangerous game; approaching the cliff edge at a dangerous pace. “No-nothing comes for free with you.”

All you do is smile, lopsided and smug. “Mm, that’s true. Guess your little dom moment earlier can just be chalked up to momentary stupidity, hm?” Seungcheol wants to nod, wants apologies to tumble from his lips until you shut him up, but his palm is so slick against his dick, fist tight enough to white out his vision. “Did you make her beg to suck your cock?”

Truth be told, Seungcheol can’t remember much of anything right now. He’s perilously close to coming, right at that precipice, and each filthy word that slips from your mouth just pushes him further to the edge. He remembers Chan inviting him to a party. He remembers a few drinks, a few hits from a blunt, compliments of Vernon; he remembers a girl making eyes at him from across the room—eyes that had looked a lot like yours in the haze of his crossfade. He remembers a locked bathroom and the sound of his voice as he told that girl how to touch him so it felt like you. He remembers her doing whatever he told her to, remembers how eager and submissive she was, how she didn’t mouth off to him the way you always do—

Remembers how unsatisfying it’d been when he came.

You’ve ruined him.

Not a revelation. Not even close to one. Seungcheol has known this for a long time, but that doesn’t mean annoyance doesn’t flare in his belly at the reminder. You don’t want him. Being so hung up on you isn’t doing him any favors, just means he’ll have a longer drop when this is all over. God, what the fuck is he doing?

He wants you so badly he’s aflame with it. He wants you so badly he can barely look at you anymore. He wants you so badly it consumes him, drives him insane, has him all fucked up and seething. He wants you, he wants you, he—

Loves.

Reality washes over him like a cold wave. Knocks him backwards, drowning, desperately trying to remember how to breathe. In, out; in, out—and none of it changes a goddamn thing.

Four years of this. Four years of touches exchanged in the dark, behind locked doors. Four years of yearning and trying and failing. Four years of everything getting lost in translation, because it’s hitting him now, but shouldn’t he have felt it before? Shouldn’t all those ‘drive me fuckin’ crazy, can’t fucking stand you’s he spoke into the crook of your neck rang hollow?

“Cheol—” you say, because you asked him something, tried to play along with this whole stupid charade, and he knows he’s frozen, just standing there, hand still wrapped around his cock, and he needs to say something, he needs to fix this—

“I’m a liar,” is what he comes up with. You’re still staring up at him, brows furrowed, pinched in the middle. Move, he wills himself, but nothing happens. “I’m a liar,” he says again, because if he says it enough you’ll believe it. “I’m sorry. I’m—”

“What are you talking about?”

He swallows. I’m in love with you, he wants to say. Feels the weight of the words on his tongue, heavy and pressing, and he thinks you should know. Even if you don’t feel the same, he thinks you deserve to know, but the way you’re looking at him—

He can’t bring himself to say it.

But he can—“Can I show you instead?”

Slowly, you nod. Seungcheol nods, too, still feeling off-kilter as he cradles your face in his hands, thumbs in the contours of your cheeks. Moves them down your neck, your shoulders, down the length of your arms. You meet him halfway, twining your fingers together, and he helps you stand, careful and considerate. At full height, he places a hand in the small of your back to tug you closer, kisses you like it’s the end of the world. Whines into your mouth at your familiar taste, and if he lets himself be delusional enough, he can pretend there’s form and substance to those sounds, that their edges are squared-off to form the words he wants to say.

Because it really might be the end of the world. Seungcheol has never known how to play the cards he’s been dealt when it comes to you. Always gets it wrong. Feints one way when he’s meant to go the other, takes the field with two left feet, always playing catch-up. Maybe the mistake was treating it like a game. Maybe the mistake was strategizing, only playing to win, because he lays you gently on his bed, fits his body in the space you create for him between your legs, and realizes he already won a long time ago.

He won the first time your eyes met. He won the first time he’d kissed you, more nerves and teeth than anything else. He won the first time you tucked yourself against his side and stared at his bedroom ceiling, half-smoked joint between your fingers, and made fun of the stupid flag he’d hung up. He won every time you took all the bullshit he threw at you and dished it right back. He won every time he had the privilege of tracing mindless shapes into your soft skin.

Every second of your time you chose to give him—all victories.

He presses in further. Groans when your hands move to his shoulders and grip tight; when your nails dig into the skin of his back. “I’ve been so stupid,” he says, punctuating his words with a nip at your ear. Smirks out of the corner of his mouth at your shuddering breath. “Haven’t I?”

“Yeah,” you answer, rolling your hips upward. He grabs at you desperately, tries to keep you still; hisses when you swat his hands away and redouble your efforts. “You’ve been a fucking asshole for a—for a while.”

You can’t see the way he pouts. Wonders, too, if that would work on you, if it’d earn him one of those rare moments of tenderness. “Well I’m trying to—shit, baby—trying to make it up to you, but you seem pretty determined to make me bust right now.”

He can see the way you roll your eyes. See the way the corners crinkle after as you laugh softly, breathlessly, still trying to chase a high Seungcheol refuses to provide. “You deserve it. You tried to dom me, you dickhead.”

Embarrassment sits obvious on his ruddy cheeks. He hides his face in the crook of your neck so you don’t see it, don’t have something to poke at him with later, but you’re having none of it. You thread your fingers through his hair and tug gently, forceful enough to have him pliable, and there it is: there are stars in your eyes as you stare up at him, tender and soft just like he hoped you’d look, and he misses the feeling of your nails on your scalp until you’re tugging at the delicate chain around his neck and pulling him closer. “Just kiss me and we’ll call it even.”

This is how it feels to get struck by lightning, he thinks. Every part of him is on fire, and he’s content to burn as his lips find yours. He sighs happily into your mouth, hikes your thigh higher around his middle, presses in to lay claim to what little space is left between you. Seungcheol is so close he can feel the rapid pace of your heartbeat, because this is not the way you usually kiss. What used to be dirty and quick, a means to an end, now has intent, purpose. He’s kissing you like he wants to steal the air from your lungs to replace it with something better.

Trails those same kisses down the length of your body. Open-mouthed at your neck, your collarbones, the space between your breasts. Teasing and slow in the space between each rib, just to watch the way your skin pebbles. Hungry and insistent at the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, because if he’s feeling this unhinged, he wants you right there with him. Can’t bear the thought of still being in this alone. Not anymore.

“Legs over my shoulders.” You listen immediately, and Seungcheol mutters a quiet fuck at the sight before him. “God, you’re so wet.”

“No shit—”

He swats at your clit, delighting in the way your body jolts. “Hush. The only thing I wanna hear out of your smart mouth from now on is my fucking name.” And then he’s diving in.

He eats you out like a man starved; like he could do this every day for the rest of his life and he still wouldn’t be satisfied. Can’t help but rut against the mattress at the way you taste, the way your thighs tighten around his head, the sting as you pull at his hair. Places both hands beneath your ass to lift and drag you closer to his waiting mouth—licks at you wet and feverish, all of this seemingly more for him than it is for you, and you’ll get tired of it soon, just like you always do. You’ll tell him—

“Do it right, Cheol, please—”

And he’ll pull away and tsk, swat at you again. His responding laugh will be cocky and derisive when your body trembles again, frantic with the need for more. “What did I say, baby? Do you not trust me to make you come?” You cock an eyebrow, torn between throwing some sarcastic remark at him and following the rules long enough to get what you want. His voice grows serious as he presses a soft kiss to your core. “I will always take care of you.”

The rest is muscle memory.

The rest has a chorus of Cheol, Cheol, Seungcheol spilling from your lips as he suctions his own around your clit. The rest has you grinding your pussy against his face. The rest has him groaning at the way he’s so wholly consumed by you: the taste of you on his tongue, face soaked, two fingers pressed deep into your cunt. The rest has him saying that’s it, baby, come on my face, I know you can and feeling delirious when he finally pushes you over the edge; when your walls clench around his fingers, breathing fractured, when you grab at him until you’re eye-level and you’re licking into his mouth to taste yourself.

Tastes a lot like I love you.

“Want you to ride me,” he says, gaze half-lidded and pleading. You whine as he moves his thumb back to your clit, tracing slow, slow, slow circles, oversensitive. “Will you do that for me?”

The party seems so far away. Grows even further away when you nod and straddle his lap. Seungcheol sits up, tells you to wrap your legs around him. Can’t stand not touching you; needs every inch of his skin to be covered by you like a bruise—something deep that’ll last for days, weeks, months. The mottled colors will change, but it’ll still be there.

“Need you, Cheol,” you whisper, kissing his eyelids. He hadn’t realized he’d closed his eyes.

“You have me,” he answers, but it sounds foreign to his ears—sounds wretched, like the words have been punched out of him. It sounds like forfeit. “Always have.”

You pull back. Study his face. Run over his plush bottom lip with your thumb. It feels like an eternity of silence before you speak. “No, I haven’t,” you insist, tone insistent but delicate, like you’re trying to convince him of it, too. “Not like this.”

I love you.

You lift your hips just enough to sink down on his cock. Seungcheol’s moan is loud and unabashed, not afraid to let anyone hear the way you make him feel. All he can think is familiar: he knows your blinding white heat; has made countless homes in your tight grip he still holds the keys to; has done this so many goddamn times it’s second nature.

He was an absolute fool to think he could ever walk away.

You roll your hips, taking him deeper like you’ve got something to prove, body moving on its own sinuous accord. Seungcheol loves you like this, when you know exactly what you want and aren’t afraid to take it. When you press sloppy kisses to his neck, the column of his throat. When he grabs at your hips, tries to move you faster along the length of his cock, and you swat his hands away. When your rhythmic up-and-down turns into a slow grind that has you gasping and breathless, pussy spasming around him.

“Goddamn, I love this pussy,” he chokes out, fingers gripping tightly at the sheets since he can’t touch you. He’s mindless with pleasure, feels himself start babbling nonsense he can’t make sense of, and it’s overwhelming, having you like this. Isn’t sure how he’s survived this long, but maybe you were right.

Maybe it was never like this before.

Usually he’d take you from behind, quick and dirty, hands digging into the meat of your ass, palm cracking down on it every now and then, imparting white heat of his own. Usually he’d have you beneath him, knees pressed to your chest, all condescension as you told him, eyes rolled back, that he was too deep, that you couldn’t take it, and he’d rub at your clit and tell you you could as he dragged another orgasm out of you. Usually he’d be so frenzied and worked up he’d take you against the door, sweats pushed to mid-thigh, forearms straining as they held you up.

So, yeah—this is different. This is a patient, sensual dance to the finish line. This is Seungcheol in his rawest form: a live wire, vulnerable, anxious. This is the unknown, because something has to come after but he doesn’t know what it is.

This is Seungcheol throwing caution to the wind, leaning in close enough to taste the salt on your skin, and saying, “I love you.”

This is Seungcheol planting his feet and fucking up into you, unwilling to hear your response. Sometimes ignorance is bliss, but sometimes bliss is just bliss, and he’ll willingly take either.

This is you coming undone on his cock, breathing rapid and ragged, pupils blown wide as you stare at him in awe.

“Say it again.”

Someone slams into the wall just outside Seungcheol’s door, and all at once the real world creeps back in: the thrumming bass line of the music downstairs; laughter, shouting, and yelling; fists banging on shut doors—but he hears you loud and clear. Presses each word into your mouth this time and groans when you swallow them. Barely makes a sound as he spills inside of you, feeling like every nerve in his body is aflame.

The two of you are quiet for a time as you try to catch your breath. Seungcheol only moves to grab his duvet and wrap it around your shoulders, smiling fondly at the small thank you you mumble, seemingly still bogged down, well-fucked.

He presses a tender kiss to the corner of your mouth.

“Okay?”

You nod, push at him until he lays back and pulls you with him, lets you use his firm chest as a pillow. That flag you’d made fun of before isn’t up there anymore, but Seungcheol feels warm at the memory anyway, almost laughs at the comment he imagines you’d make.

Clears his throat. Tries to find his courage. “I really am sorry,” he tells you again, because it doesn’t matter if he loves you if he doesn’t know how to be good at it.

“I know, Cheol,” comes your easy reply. You’re tracing shapes on his stomach that have his muscles contracting. “I know you love me, too.” You sigh, press your lips to his rib cage. “Who knew it’d only take making out with Mingyu to get you to admit it.”

A wild laugh tumbles out of him. “Fuck off.” He can feel your grin.

“You got a fucked up way of showing it, though.”

He hums, holds onto you a little tighter. “Go easy on me, I only figured it out about an hour ago.”

“An hour?” you faux-gasp, make like you’re about to leave. “I’m outta here. I know my worth. If I’m going to say it back to someone, they need to be in love with me for at least two.”

He chokes at the implication, heart threatening to beat right out of his chest and into yours. He knows he looks exactly like the moonstruck, loved-up loser he is, and he coughs to cover it. “That’s what I said,” he lies. “Two hours. You must’ve heard it wrong.”

No, it was never like this.

#seungcheol x reader #seungcheol smut #scoups x reader #scoups smut #seungcheol imagines #seventeen x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen fanfic #seungcheol fanfic #scoups fanfic #jewel writes #fic: wntt

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star-anise · 5 months ago

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Currently getting my socks clean blown off by Rethinking Narcissism, by Dr. Craig Malkin. Which I found, in a roundabout way, from this video on Midsommar, grief, and narcissism.

Tonight I woke up from a nap and accidentally took my morning meds, so I'm going to be up for a few hours because of the meth. In place of sleep, I'll try to roughly sum up some basic ideas proposed by the research the book is based on:

That traits of "narcissism" like entitlement, grandiosity, and feeling special are not inherently toxic. There are times and places they are appropriate and beneficial. If you show up at a hospital with a gunshot wound to the chest, you should not sit and wait to be seen after people with earaches and coughs. (Actually, medical systems are designed to prioritize people with more urgent needs, and you qualify under that system. You are special and are deserving of different treatment than those others, which is why making your needs known, even insisting on it if you're not listened to appropriately the first time, is an extremely good idea. It keeps you from bleeding to death on the floor, and keeps the hospital from getting its pants sued off by your heirs.)

It is more useful to view "narcissism" not as an inherent immutable personality trait, but as a cluster of coping mechanisms. As previously stated, there are times they are exactly the right coping mechanism for the job. However, people we call "narcissists" tend to cling to these ones even when they become detrimental to themselves and others, often because they lack other ways of regulating their emotions and getting their needs met. And that is something they can change, if a person is willing to put in sincere and difficult work. It is not usually fast change; it's a matter of years, not weeks. But a skillbuilding approach turned Borderline Personality Disorder from an immutable curse to a fully treatable (though not quickly treatable) condition, and there's a lot of hope that it can do the same for Narcissistic Personality Disorder.

Meanwhile, there's an opposite end to the narcissism spectrum, and it is also pathological and destructive to hang out there all the time. It's an aversion, or even a resistance, to expecting yourself or other people to treat your own feelings, thoughts, ideas, needs, or preferences as important. For Greek mythology reasons, its proposed name is Echoism.

Unfortunately, because most of the damage echoism does is, by its very nature, localized to its sufferer and their own personal relationships, its downsides aren't often talked about. In fact, it's often seen as an ideal moral state, a kind of altruism or saintliness everyone should strive for. As a pathological coping mechanism a person is trapped in, though, it's often more a fear-based reflex than a conscious and deliberate attempt to achieve some real and specific good. It's not actually as beneficial as being able to recognize your needs, desires, positive aspects, and areas of competence or excellence, and bring them forward in your relationships with other people and yourself.

To me this has all been a cross between a gut-punch and a cool, sweet drink of water. There have been other ways to describe echoism over the years, but this feels like the most concise and useful one I've seen in ages.

It specifically puts its pin down in the middle of the moral debate a lot of people struggle with—"What right do I have to put myself forward? What hope do I have of being seen and accepted? Isn't it better not to burden anybody else?"—and says that the problem is not feeling in touch with either side of the equation, but specifically, the inability to move from one part of the spectrum to another when it's merited by circumstances.

When I was a child, I thought Echoism was the answer. It was my ideal. I thought it was what would get me the love and acceptance I wanted, and would keep me safe from the pain of rejection or not being understood. I had no idea it would actually, in fact, be the primary cause of alienation and loneliness for the rest of my life.

Now I'm so deeply thankful I couldn't fully achieve it, in practical terms. As hard as I tried to erase myself, there were always things I loved too much to suppress. I still found ways to express and discover myself in the books I read, the stories I wrote, the intellectual work of school and the experience of pursuing hobbies I loved, my ambitions to be helpful even when they demanded I stop being selfless, and the relationships where I felt safe enough to experience love and acceptance even if I didn't think I deserved them.

There's this question I found a while back that echoed in my bones: Who am I allowed to be around you? Because that's what I felt like, as a child. If I wanted to engage with other people and minimize my risk of harm, it was my job to bend into a pretzel and fit the shape they wanted. And thank god, thank god, thank god, I couldn't fully do it. Despite everything, there were parts of me too strong and bright to lop off completely to get my arms and legs inside the carriage. I was able to take care of myself and let them grow in secret until I found social places I could let them out again. Despite myself, I found ways to grow and thrive, well beyond the trauma that said I shouldn't have.

#staranise original #child abuse tw #child neglect tw #narcissism tw

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girlgenius1111 · 6 months ago

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no time for losers

everyone saw alexia's goal celebration. only you got to see [and participate in] the match celebrations later that night. smut. 18+.

ps. this fic was made possible by @sunnyaelia who made very specific requests ☺️🤭🙃

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You held out as long as you could, truly. But you’d been ready to pounce on your girlfriend all day, the endorphins and emotions of the day only increasing this urge. The first people began to peel away from the after party and head up to bed, and you saw your opportunity. Alexia had kept you close to her all night, and now you stood pressed up against her, one of her arms slung along your neck. You’d been fiddling with the rings on your fingers when you saw Ingrid and Mapi slip away. You knew what they were up to. Lucy pulled Ona out of the room after that, but you were quite sure the Englishwoman just wanted to get some ice on the poor girl’s face. Once a few more of your teammates had left the room, you turned to tuck your face into Alexia’s chest, knowingly exactly how to get her to take you upstairs.

If you were horny, she’d make you wait, just a bit. Even if she was too. If you pretended to be tired, though, she’d take you upstairs faster, so you let your eyes fall shut as you listened to the steady thump of Alexia’s heartbeat in your ear, just barely audible over the loud music pumping into the room from Patri’s speaker.

“Tired?” Alexia asked gently, her hand gently placed on the back of your head, fingers scratching lightly.

You nodded against her. It wasn’t a lie, you were tired. You’d played 60 minutes in an incredibly physical match. You were just much more interested in activities other than sleeping at the moment.

“Vale, let’s go up.” She paired the words with a soft kiss to your head, keeping you held close to her as you both bid your teammates a goodnight and exited the room. She was being incredibly gentle with you as she led you upstairs, but you really hoped that would change soon.

-------

“I thought you were tired?” Alexia huffed, breaking away from the deep kiss you’d pulled her into the minute the hotel room door had shut behind you.

“I am.” You shrugged, letting your lips drift down to her jaw and work their way down her neck.

“Just not too tired for this?” She wondered teasingly, while still holding a note of concern in her voice.

“Nope.”

“Promise?” Alexia asked gently, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you looked up at her.

“Promise.” You confirmed. That was all she needed to hear before she was backing you up against the wall, one hand on the small of your back, the other threading through your hair. Her hands were everywhere, really, fluttering over your skin before settling at the hem of your shirt, trying to tug it up. You let her pull it off you, blushing slightly at the smirk that adorned Alexia’s features as she gazed down at you, before she was moving back in.She wasn’t being gentle anymore as she kissed you, and you were glad for it, though you still had a few things to do before this could go any further.

“Ale,” you hummed.

“Hmm?” She didn’t pull back, nails scratching bluntly at your lower back.

“Ale.” You repeated.

Alexia groaned, but pulled away, giving you a cheeky smile to tell you that she wasn’t really annoyed. “What do you need mi amor?”

“I need to wash the sunscreen off my face.” You whispered against her lips. “And I’m thirsty,” you added as an afterthought. She chuckled, gently pushing you away from her.

“Go wash your face. And take your clothes off.”

“They’re already half off.” You said, rolling your eyes.

“Go.” She instructed, turning you in the direction of the bathroom. She headed for her suitcase and you were rather excited to see what she was searching for.

-------

When you exited the bathroom completely bare, you found Alexia in the same state, except for the harness and dildo fixed over her hips. She was neatly folding her clothes, putting them in a pile on the dresser, but she placed something on top of the pile that grabbed your attention.

She turned to look at you, a cocky grin on her face brought a matching grin onto your face. You walked closer, grabbing the captain's armband off her pile of clothes and motioning for her to hold her arm out. Now it was Alexia’s turn to blush, just a bit.

“Amor,” she complained, though she held her arm out all the same.

“Mi capitana.” You hummed, slipping the armband on and wrapping it around her bicep.

You made eye contact with your girlfriend, noticing a spark in her eye that wasn’t there before.

“Su capitana,” she whispered, tugging you closer to her. “Then you better listen to what I tell you to do, no?”

“I should.” You agreed, fighting a smile.

“Bueno. On your knees.” She instructed, guiding you down as you complied easily, knowing exactly what she had in mind.

Alexia always let you set the pace with this, but you were in no mood to go slow. The intense makeout session before, combined with the dominant way Alexia was staring down at you combined to make you wet and aching.

You took Alexia’s strap into your mouth, gagging slightly as you did so. You worked it down your throat much faster than you normally did, desperate to please your girlfriend, and desperate to get her to touch you. You could feel your inner thighs covered in slick, and you pressed them together for a hint of anything at all, a movement that didn't go unnoticed by Alexia, who’s eyes were glued to you.

“Fuck yourself while I fuck your throat.” She instructed, removing one of your hands from where it held her hip and gesturing for you to put it between your legs. You wanted her inside of you, now, her fingers, her cock, anything, but for now, her cock in your mouth and your fingers in your pussy would do.

You were wet. Really wet, and your finger slipped easily through your folds and into your cunt. You were more focused on Alexia’s strap than you were on your own pleasure at that moment, though you still made sure to slip another finger in and stretch yourself out for her like you knew she wanted. You quickly found a rhythm that matched her hips thrusting her cock into your mouth, and you shifted, trying to get more comfortable. One of Alexia’s hands moved from the back of your head to trail up her abdomen and grab at her breast, giving it a rough squeeze. Your eyes followed the movement and before you knew it, you were caught up in drinking in the sight above you, your jaw going almost slack around Alexia’s cock.

Her abs flexed with every movement, short breaths getting caught in her throat as she looked down at you. You were gazing up at her, captivated by the sight of her completely bare except for the captain’s armband wrapped around her bicep. Your eyes were wide, slightly watery, and your face was a mess, but you looked at your girlfriend with complete devotion, complete submission.

“Joder,” Alexia groaned, the feeling of fucking your throat no longer doing it for her. She grabbed a fistfull of your hair and dragged you off her cock, hastily turning you around and bending you over the bed. You gasped slightly in shock at the change in position, but Alexia just leaned down, kissing messily across the skin of your back. “I need you now,” she whispered, her teeth nipping slightly at you. “I cannot wait.”

You hung your head and took in a few shaky breaths, nodding quickly as she dragged herself through you, not yet pressing in. “Can you take it or do you need my fingers?” Alexia asked quickly, barely keeping herself from immediately fucking into you when your hips bucked back against her.

“No, I can take it,” you told her breathlessly. The next second, she was burying herself inside of you, her cock hitting all the right places.

“Jesus,” you cried, forgetting, or potentially not caring, that some of your teammates were just next door. You fisted the comforter in your hands, holding on for dear life as Ale railed into you. She fucked you frantically, desperate to get herself off and to get you off, like she’d been thinking about it all day. You certainly had. Ever since she tore her shirt off after scoring, you had barely been holding yourself back from her, and she knew it. Her wandering hands at the celebrations told you it, as did her insistence on having you now, as soon as she could.

You barely heard the click of a button over the wet sounds your pussy was making, but then the strap was vibrating to life inside of you and your pleasure increased tenfold. Alexia’s forethought to bring the vibrating strap didn’t go unnoticed by you, and the slight cockiness that fueled that decision only turned you on more. As if she knew you’d win, as if she knew what she’d be doing as a celebration.

Alexia wasn’t normally loud during sex, but you could hear her now with every grind and every thrust, grunting deep in her throat, her nails digging into your ass as she wrenched you back against her. Evidently, Alexia decided that was much too loud, because the sounds suddenly became muffled, and when you looked back at her, she’d stuffed her shirt in her mouth, holding onto it with her teeth, eyes shut, head thrown back.

The 11 jersey dangled from her teeth, though she was still making noise deep in the back of her throat. You hadn’t realized how turned on you’d been since her goal celebration until that very moment, when you were reminded of it.

And with the reminder of her goal, you were reminded of the pride you had for your girlfriend. You were proud of yourself, and of the team of course, but that didn’t compare to what you felt for Alexia. It was pride and it was pure joy. It was love, an all encapsulating and overwhelming love. It was emotion that didn’t quite match the rough sex you were having, and you were only more sure of Alexia’s perfection when she slowed down and very carefully flipped you onto your back. You let out a sharp breath at the feeling of her cock twisting inside of you, before you were lost in Alexia’s hazel eyes, her forehead pressing down into yours. You pulled the shirt from her mouth, tossing it onto the bed and leaning up for a kiss. Alexia moved closer, too, but she didn’t yet make contact.

“Te amo mucho de menos, mi niña perfecta,” she whispered. She pressed her lips to yours, her hips beginning to pick up speed again, even as she leaned her weight down onto you. You kissed her back, hard, and slipped your tongue into her mouth. You couldn’t get her close enough to you, couldn’t feel her enough, but you weren’t giving up. Alexia tucked her face into the crook of your neck, exhaling sharply as you slid your hands down her back to grab at her ass, encouraging her to speed up the slow thrusting pace she was keeping.

“I love you.” You whispered back. “And I need you to fuck me.”

You felt your girlfriend grin into your skin, felt her shift slightly to hover above you. Her pace returned to the unforgiving one from before, and your head fell back against the mattress, a long whine coming from your mouth.

Alexia grunted, a sound much quieter than the ones you were making. Her eyes were still so close to you, and it was all you could do to stare into them and watch the pleasure Alexia was feeling flash across her normally very composed face.

“You feel so good amor,” she whispered breathily, dusting a few kisses onto the tip of your nose, her words an intense contradiction to the soft gesture.

You couldn’t handle how soft she was being, while also fucking you so well.

“Ale,” you whimpered, your voice louder than it should have been. Your girlfriend’s large hand slipped onto your face, covering your mouth as she hushed you. Her pace didn’t slow, though, if anything it picked up. The steady stimulation was getting you closer and closer, and all you wanted was more from her, to feel more from her.

Alexia’s hand wasn’t doing much to lower the volume of the moans falling from your mouth. “Shh, mi niña, you have to be quiet,” she rasped, her lips nibbling at your ear. Before you could tell her that you couldn’t be quiet, she was sitting up onto her knees, spreading your legs wide, and yanking your body closer into her. It was an entirely different angle, and when she began to pound into you again, you could barely contain yourself, squirming against the mattress underneath her, almost overwhelmed from the pleasure.

You let out a keening whine, one that was sure to be heard from anywhere nearby, and Alexia shushed you again. “Do I need to gag you?” She asked rhetorically, gently nudging your lips apart and slipping two fingers inside of your mouth. You groaned again, this time much quieter as you began to lick and suck at Alexia’s fingers.

“Buena niña,” she cooed, picking up the pace of her hips. With your mouth preoccupied and Alexia’s jaw clenched tightly shut, the only audible sound in the room was the filthy smack of Alexia’s body meeting yours, and the wet slip of her cock moving in and out of you.

And then her hand slid down your body, two fingers pressing into your clit, and you swore you saw stars.

“I want you to come on my cock, vale?” Alexia said raspily, a small smirk tugging at her lips even as her eyes fluttered shut in pleasure. “I want you to come when I fill you up.”

A choked moan escaped from you around Alexia’s fingers and they pushed in further, pressing down against your tongue. Your girlfriend began to circle her fingers around your clit, starting slow but increasing the speed as your hips grinded down against her hand and her cock. Waves and waves of pleasure were washing over you and you weren’t sure where you stopped and where Alexia began. All you knew was that you just needed her to keep fucking going.

You grabbed her wrist, pulled her fingers from your mouth and guided it to your throat. She gripped it in her hand and squeezed it slightly. Two of her fingers were wet against your skin, her fingers calloused and rough.

Alexia was always soft where you needed her to be soft. And rough where you need her to be rough. When she released your neck and gripped at your hips to get better leverage it was paired with a soft whisper.

“Are you close?”

“Sí, so close Ale. I want to come with you.” You whined, body writhing against the mattress now.

“Where, hmm? Where do you want me to come?” She asked teasingly.

“In my pussy Ale, please, I need it,” you begged, your voice barely more than a whimper.

Your girlfriend could only exhale sharply at your words and rub harder at your clit.

“Come on, bebe, with me,” Alexia encouraged, the soft praise tugging you closer and closer to the edge. You could just lay there, try to jerk your hips down against Alexia as the pleasure began to overtake you. You heard Alexia swear above you, and you cried out her name as you came, feeling yourself clench violently around her strap. Alexia could barely move, but she didn’t need to. All she needed was to grind her hips where they were, get herself off on the stimulation of the strap vibrating against her clit.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she groaned, collapsing down onto you to shove her face into the crook of your neck. You clung tightly to her, Alexia’s body shuddering and shaking on you. You reached down in between you, clicking the button on the dildo to turn it off. It stilled inside of you, save for the occasional twitch of Alexia’s hips, and you tried to catch your breath.

You were just recovering when Ale began to kiss at your neck again, sloppy wet kisses with just enough teeth involved that you knew she was going to be leaving marks. You didn’t really care.

“Eres tan hermosa, tan bonita.” She mumbled against your skin. Your cheeks heated with a blush and you smiled at the ceiling threading your fingers through the baby hairs at the base of Alexia’s neck. She always got mushy after sex.

Or, if the way her hand was beginning to trail lightly down your abdomen was any indication, she always got mushy during sex.

Alexia trailed kisses up your neck and down your jawline, nudging your head to press kiss the sweet spot right under your ear.

“I want to taste you. I want to feel you on my fingers.” She murmured, before leaving a final kiss on your cheek and looking down at you adoringly. “Can I?”

Who would say no?

You were both sticky with sweat, still buzzing with adrenaline, and you had never felt such a deep yearning for another person in your life. It was almost comical how quickly after you nodded your head that Alexia was undoing the straps that had the dildo fastened to her waist, slipping out of it, and tossing it off the side of the bed.

Alexia loved to have her tongue on you. She liked to savor every second, feel your thighs tighten against her head, feel your pussy pulse in her mouth. And she really loved to taste you. She took it slow, pressing loving kisses to your skin as she moved down your body, lacing her hands with yours just before she put her mouth on you.

Alexia hummed at the taste of you, flicking her tongue carefully through your folds, knowing very well that you’d be sensitive. You were, and you twitched under her, squeezing her hands when she stiffened her tongue and began to work it against your clit.

“You taste so good.” She groaned, pulling away to speak for just a second. Long enough for you to feel her hot breath on your core. You shivered, moaning softly and arching your back off the bed. “You are dripping, bebe, aye dios mío.”

“All for you.” You gasped, pulling your hands from hers and threading them through her hair, trying to press her closer into you. She took the opportunity, spreading your legs with her hands before stroking a careful finger over your entrance.

“All for me? How lucky am I, to have the most beautiful girl in the world on my tongue, dripping all over my fingers? Screaming my name.” Alexia whispered filthily. “My good girl, opening up for me so well.”

You whined at the praise, tugging lightly at the roots of her hair in an effort to tell her that you wanted more of it. Even if it took Alexia’s tongue off you, she kept it close enough that you could feel the vibrations of her words on you, her finger beginning to slide in and out of your pussy.

“You like that? You like to hear how good you are for me?”

“Sí Ale, your good girl.” You cried, squirming slightly when Alexia slipped another finger into you. It wasn’t a stretch by any means but she was curling them perfectly inside of you, sliding over and over the spot inside of you that made you grab helplessly at the sheets.

“My good girl.” She confirmed. “Are you going to make a mess on my fingers?”

“Mmhmm,” you sighed, trying to stop your legs from completely shutting around Alexia’s head.

At the confirmation, Alexia returned her attention to your clit with a renewed eagerness. The combination of her fingers and her tongue were mind numbing, and you felt yourself hurtling over the edge once again. The blonde’s fingers fucked into your cunt rapidly through it, and just when you thought you felt that absolute best that you could, Alexia began to whisper against you as she pulled her tongue away from your clit, and slowed your fingers.

“So good when your pretty pussy comes for me. My perfect girl.” Alexia cooed, enjoying the completely fucked out expression on your face.

“Your perfect girl,” you whimpered back, wanting nothing more than to just be Alexia’s forever. Your girlfriend fixed her attention on your core, still leaking, still overwhelmingly wet, and knew what she wanted next.

You’d barely come down at all before Alexia was lifting up her head from between your legs, wiping her mouth off with the back of her hand, a slightly mischievous smile on her face.

“I want to feel your pussy on mine,” Alexia rasped, swinging a leg over yours and pressing herself down onto you. She was soaking wet and she moved fast, clearly on edge from getting you off. Her body grinded perfectly down onto yours and your jaw practically dropped at the sight of her above you. Her abdomen tensing and untensing, her arms flexing as she held your legs apart. Her breasts bounced lightly as she moved, her hair half out of her ponytail. She was so enticing, so perfect, and she was yours. You could barely think straight.

��Fuck, you are so wet,” the blonde sighed, and if you hadn’t been confident that any words that you tried to speak would come out as a garbled, whiny mess, you would have told her the same.

Alexia knew just how to position herself to perfectly stimulate you both, her strong legs helping her grind back and forth, back and forth. You could hear how wet you both were, every inch Alexia moved making a filthy sound that only heightened everything. It was perfect, and even though you’d just come, Alexia had just gotten you off, you could feel your abdomen tightening, your legs really beginning to shake against the mattress. You moved against her as best you could, though it was hard to focus on grinding up into her when she was being so entirely distracting.

You were close, bordering on overstimulation, but in the sweet spot where there wasn’t a single thought in your head other than the pleasure Alexia was bringing you. Alexia was close, too, her hips beginning to buck somewhat frantically, sharp breaths leaving her mouth at an increasing speed.

“Bebe,” she cried, “I am- close,”

Alexia wasn’t asking permission, she was setting an almost unspoken expectation, and you knew it.

“Gonna come,” you told her, still out of breath even as your girlfriend did all the work above you. The sight of her alone took your breath away.

“Dios mio, amor,” Alexia whined, her voice hitting a higher pitch as her hips stuttered.

“Shit, Ale, don’t stop,” you moaned, gripping her hips in your hand to encourage her to speed up. That did it for both of you, the added contact and the added speed combining to push you both over the edge.

Alexia cried out, much louder than she normally was. It lasted longer for you, until Alexia could feel your pussy pulsing against hers. You pushed at her hips, needing even the slight stimulation of her wet cunt on you to stop.

“Too much,” you whimpered, tugging on Alexia’s hand in an attempt to get her to come closer. She did, climbing off you and collapsing onto her back, immediately tugging you into her arms so that your head was resting comfortably on her chest.

You lazily kissed at the skin of her chest before looking up at her. She was already looking down at you, a small smile on her dazed face.

“You are so fucking beautiful.” She whispered, thumb brushing over the flush of your cheeks.

You shook your head gently. “You are perfect.”

“Hmm.” Alexia hummed, dragging you up closer to her, until she could plant a kiss on your cheek. “No, you.”

There was really no use arguing, though you had 4 reasons from today alone why Alexia was the perfect one in the relationship. 1 insane goal, and 3 other… convincing things.

Your eyes shut and Alexia watched as you grew sleepier and sleepier. She didn’t forget the look on your face just a few minutes ago, one of awe and love. You looked at her the same way when she scored, when she ran for the first time after her second surgery. When she bought you flowers and coffee on a sunday morning, and when you rolled over in the morning to find her already awake, just looking at you. Alexia was so much more than just a footballer to you, and she really, really loved that. And you.

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i didn't proof read so. as always. tell me if you find typos.

hope you enjoy 🫶🏻🫶🏻🙃🙃🙂🙂🙂

#woso x reader #woso imagine #woso one shot #woso fanfics #alexia putellas x reader

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etherealkissed88 · 7 months ago

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how i manifest when i feel anxious •°. *࿐

i decide i have what i want…

when i feel anxiety -> i let it pass while knowing its only a human reaction

◦ since i am beyond just a human (i am limitless imagination/self), i know any anxiety is below me and it has nothing to do with my limitless self. i have exactly what i decided i have, regardless of any anxiety.

know anxiety usually comes from a fear of failure

◦ so, i cannot limit myself based on what i see or what i negatively assume my future will look like bc i am always beyond the 3d, no matter what feelings/anxiety my human self experiences.

◦ i become indifferent/i dont care about what i see or what i assume i will see because i know everything comes together in the 3d once i change self/know its done. fact: everything always comes together and works out in the end. being indifferent to the 3d = being indifferent to emotions, anxiety and everything that doesnt serve you.

dont fight it, dont avoid it, tackle it head on

◦ acknowledge you are experiencing anxiety bc you are. yes it can feel like shit but it doesnt have to affect who you are being (whatever version of self you are embodying). again, i can choose to be indifferent to this anxiety. you dont have to be scared of the anxiety. it is a natural human response. cry if you need to, let it all out. dont try to suppress it bc that will only come to bite you back in the ass, believe me.

◦ take care of your mental health in whatever ways necessary. when i used to experience anxiety, i used to take walks in the park, clear my head, meditate, express myself and my emotions through art and journaling, etc. remember nothing you do (or feel) in the 3d has to affect who you are being/your state.

"how can i still have anxiety yet still be a desired version of me?"

anxiety has no affect on anything unless you allow it to change your identity. you are the one with power, the anxiety is only an experience, similar to breathing in oxygen and using our sense of touch; its all neutral. when you start surrendering to the anxiety, you are creating and accepting negative stories that you create based on the feeling of anxiety. allowing that anxious feeling to change your state/identity is surrendering to something you view as more "powerful" than you. stop transforming that anxiety into a state that you embody based on the false, negative stories u imagine.

remember a 3d experience or anxious feelings doesnt have to influence who you are being. an example: a model who knows (fulfilled) that she is graceful and beautiful can have anxiety about doing her catwalk. the anxiety is normal, she can experience the symptoms of anxiety (shortness of breath, dry mouth, shaking) but her core identity/state is still a graceful model. the anxiety is only a temporary feeling. usually when we experience these feelings, they occupy all of our attention in that moment which is why it seems so scary but in reality, its not that big a deal. know that anxiety is just a feeling. you are safe. you can still experience shitty feelings while knowing you are a bad bitch!

you dont always identify with everything you experience. for example, a lot of people experience good things and still identify as people who are unworthy of good things. so its really up to you to choose what to identify with.

i know my only job is knowing its done

◦ if i just decided its done, as the operant power, as i say goes, therefore its done. so my job is done. anxiety is part of the 3d, not my limitless self, imagination. so i can be indifferent and experience it without identifying with it, the same way people manifest what they desire while experiencing their shitty circumstances daily (because they do not identify with those shitty experiences).

◦ ive heard/experienced situations where we know its done yet we cried and felt like shit, and what we wanted still manifested into the 3d. bc anxiety is only a feeling. do not allow your feelings to take hold of your state, but if it does, its never the end of the world... just get back in the state. 3d shit/anxiety doesnt have to intervene with who you are being/what you identify with.

kisses, jani ☆

#etherealkissed🎀#etherealkissed #law of assumption #loa blog #manifesting #loassumption #neville goddard #edward art #imagination creates reality #loastates #loass states #loa assumptions #law of manifestation #master manifestor

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muntitled · 1 year ago

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omg hi pookie bear , hru ?

i’m going feral and have a request <\3 hmm what if anton hasn’t seen his gf in a few months because she stays in the states . they usually make sure to call and check in with each other every night but maybe for the last few days she hasn’t been responding too much but only because she’s flying to go surprise him ! so basically a bit of angst then fluff at the end loll (and a little smut if ur up to it 🤓👆🏾) .

also, can i be 🎀 anon ?!

Of course, my darling! Thank you for the lovely request, I literally had so much fun writing this omg.

𝐈𝐧 𝐓��𝐞 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡 | 𝐀𝐧𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐋𝐞𝐞

- Pairings: Anton Lee x Fem!Reader

- Warnings: Language, Established Relationship, Codependency, Angst, Jealousy, Relationship Paranoia, Possessiveness, Manipulation, Smut (+18, Minors DNI), Spitting, Size Kink, Praise Kink, Dry Humping, Unprotected Sex, Needy Sex

He wouldn't call himself obsessive.

That's not the correct word. Infatuation would probably best explain the tempest of emotions rattling through his brain when his phone rings, signaling a video call from you.

Sungchan's chest rises and falls with the extremities of their evening workout. He barely keeps himself toppling over when he and the rest of the group watch Anton lumber to his bag in large, quick steps

"Yo?" Sohee asks, anatomically defeated as he races to catch his breath.

"Carry on, without me," Anton throws over his hunched shoulder. He is cupping his phone with both hands when he enters one of the many bathrooms peppered throughout the gym, letting his feet guide him almost robotically into a stall while his finger swipes to answer the video call. At the sight of your relaxed smile, Anton exhales lightly.

He knew it's particularly bad to form dependant relationships, but he couldn't exactly help himself, can he? Your voice is just so light when you say, "Hi," and his is equally shy as he replies with his quiet "Hi yourself."

Anton can not help himself from being so incredibly infatuated. He's diving headfirst into codependency, but hey, at least he is aware.

At least he is aware that he would do quite literally anything for the girl in trapped in his phone, and you would do the same for him, therefore it is of no surprise at all when he airly says, "You're so pretty,"

His voice is barely above a whisper and his eyes are bright as he buries the lower half of his face in the comforting fleece of his black sweater. "Really pretty,"

An airy sort of chuckle escapes the confines of your lips, and Anton's pulse begins to race as he takes note of your tongue swiping over your bottom lip. "Anton, did you hear anything I just said?" If it weren't for the slight hesitation that pollutes the sound of your beautiful voice, Anton would've gladly kept staring at your lips. But his heart sinks imperceptibly as he gazes back at you apprehensively.

"Uh- no," he says, "I was too busy thinking about how excited I am for you to get here." The panic only begins to set when your smile wavers.

"Oh... about that-"

"No," he whispers, "Please don't do that-"

"My boss hasn't exactly cleared me for a vacation day-"

Anton is livid, but his voice remains stable. "We have spoken about this for 2 months!"

"You know how my boss can be," you reply, "He hasn't given me off, Anton. I have no one to cover my shift, I'm sorry!" You exclaim, as the dreaded guilt begins to trickle into your voice. Anton's eyes narrow, and he brings his phone closer. Temporarily ignoring his whirlwind of negative emotions, Anton instead skeptically asks, "Where are you?" That doesn't look like your bathroom."

Anton's heart only sinks lower into the pit of his stomach when he notices a quick hint of alarm flash through your eyes before you're pulling the camera back into a more intimate aspect ratio as you prattle on. "Yeah, I just decided to head to the movies to make myself feel better. Maybe you should do the same," your voice is tight and layered with anxiety as if you were... lying to him.

Anton cannot imagine why you would want to do that, least of all to him. He knew when you lied because you both did it together. On myriad occasions.

He made you call up your part-time job on multiple occasions, rubbing smoothe, encouraging circles on your belly while you feigned an illness just to spend more time with him.

In high school, you had both lied to each of your parents about 'studying together' when in actual fact, those 4 had been excuses to make out messily in your sheets. Exploring confusing emotions until a simmering heat flowed through the both of you while Anton's large hands began to pet over new, various spots on your body.

He had never been on the receiving end of your dishonesty, not even since he left the country. But here you are, evading eye contact, stuttering over your words and lying...

to him.

"How's the team workout been, big boy?" He notices with grave finality how quick you are to not only change the subject, but to weaponize a nickname that you knew would have him melting for you.

Is this what you have both become?

Was he seriously being manipulated?

Was he...

Perhaps...

Being cheated on?

The thought sent a wave of nausea threatening to spill out of his badly pursed lips, and perhaps you realize, from years of studying Anton's non verbal expressions, that he was thinking of something very grave and very bad.

"Hey, didn't you say you only had five minutes?" Your voice is like the tingling goosebumps left in the wake of your nails raking across his skin and he shivers slightly.

"Yeah," his voice, although characteristically quiet, is guarded and you frown, perhaps noticing that you have a lot of making up to do.

Anton suddenly, quite literally out of the blue, asks, "Remember when you said you went bra shopping the other day?

"Yeah?" You ask, completely oblivious to the darkened thoughts polluting your boyfriend's mind. You watch his eyes tare into yours as he monotonously asks.

"Are you wearing any of the new ones right now?"

"Anton, aren't you in the middle of-"

He immediately cuts in, voice impatient and snide, "They can carry on without me, it's fine."

It was petulant, but Anton needed to know you still belonged to him. He needed to know that high school wasn't some sick fever dream you could just swiftly move past as if it meant nothing. He needed to know that.

"Can I see?"

You curtly comply, and you look around before pushing yourself further into the stall. You both found yourselves on opposite end of a cellular line, both silent with the weight of your attraction to one another, keeping your eyes glued to the screen.

"Please?" He asks, in an airy voice, "for me?"

Anton knew from the strike of guilt in his chest that it was not a morally correct thing to do, but what else was there?

You would be away from him, indefinitely. He would have to spend another evening, another week, another month without your body to hold onto. Not to mention, the jealousy at this new hypothetical boyfriend still hung heavily on his shoulders.

Besides, Anton's guilt completely disappeared when you begrudgingly pulled the string of your halter neck down until the material was falling flmisily down your torso, exposing your chest to him. Anton released a wobbly breath while his hand almost immediately went to cover the bulge, forming in his oversized pants. "Oh god," he whispered.

It was so remarkably mesmerising watching your boyfriend slips so easily into desire. You knew he was angry and that made this part of the mission remarkably uncomfortable, but instead, you choose to focus on Anton's lumbering breathing through the screen of your phone. His large eyes hooded and locked onto your breasts, still very much covered by your white lace bra.

Although he cannot see anything besides cleavage, Anton reckons he could cum just from this. That's how bad he needs you, that's how bad he yearns for your soft, grounding presence to be near him.

But your phone chimes. And just as Anton's jaw locks, you exclaim, "Babe, I have to go-"

"What?" The frown on his face is astounding, but you're already propping your phone up to pull up the strings of your dress.

His protests fall on deaf ears.

You could not very well tell him that you have already touched down in Korea. You couldn't tell him the unrecognizable bathroom stall was a sterile cubicle in the international airport. You couldn't tell him that you were closer than he thought.

"My movie is gonna start soon,"

His shoulders visibly deflate and your heart pounds faster in your chest.

"Skip it,"

"I'll call later okay?"

"Skip the movie."

"I love you,"

When you abruptly ended the call, Anton stared at his screen until the dimness turned to black, with only one question permeating through his restless mind.

'Do you?'

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

"You say you hear me," Sohee's voice reaches the rafters as the group of boys leave the gym. "You hear me, but do you feel me?"

"Gross," Anton mumbles, leaving Sohee behind.

"It's a simple question," The older boy continues, "at what point does water become soup?"

"When any reasonable amount of seasoning is added," pipes up Shotaro, adjusting the straps of his work out bag along his shoulder.

"Don't encourage him," Eunseok grumbles as they all walk out into the cool night air.

Anton's gaze is still lowered to the floor, but his breath stutters momentarily at the sudden rush of the open air.

"So salt water can be considered soup?" Sohee scoffs, "That's what you're telling me right now?" The group groans in unison, all beginning to walk like a hive mind to the nearest restaurant. All except Anton, who is quieter than usual, whose only plans for the evening consist of wallowing in self-pity.

"Hey, um, I'm just gonna go home," he says, causing the group of boys to stop in their tracks. Anton evade their curious, worried gazes.

"Not when you look like you're about kill yourself-" Shotaro says, attempting to step closer to Anton, but only frowning when the youngest takes a step back.

"That's okay," he attempts to reassure his friends, "There's a beat thats been..." Anton does vague hand gestures to the side of his head, "I wanna go work,"

He was already walking away, head bowed, and headphones pushed over his head, walking into the night before his friends could even get a word in...

⋆⭒˚｡⋆

He could not describe his feelings as Jealousy. That somehow felt like to tame a word to describe the flurry of emotions hanging so heavily on Anton's face as he pushes the password into the door's keypad, before kicking his shoes off at the door.

Anger was certainly a part of it. The large monolith of emotions threating to burst right through him. He felt unpleasantly overstimulated, even in the silence of the apartment. He felt like anything and everything was threatening to have him burst at the seams, his emotions running along the rim of his usually calm and collected state of mind, ready to spill over and make a dreaded mess everywhere.

Anton's only plans for the night had been to lock himself in his dorm room, perhaps crying, perhaps screaming, perhaps knocking himself out for a couple hours with his prescription sleeping pills. Anything to make this horrific strain on his heart disappeared.

The baggy clothes he is accustomed to wearing somehow appear bigger and sloppier as he lumbers his way deeper into the apartment, heart sinking the more steps he takes.

"Oh look,"

Cold, piercing phantom pain zings through his heart, kickstarting every dormant sleepy cell in his body.

"A dinosaur,"

Anton thinks that he couldn't even move if he wanted to. His socks are glued to the threshold, watching you, or perhaps an apparition of you, laying lazily on his bed.

His bed.

“Fuck,” he whispers to himself, and you watch with furrowed brows as Anton brings his two hands up to his face. You immediately push yourself off the bed when he begins to slap lightly at his cheeks, whispering incoherently about asylums and potentially getting a contact high.

His cheeks are already bright red when you stumble your way in front of him.

“Woah, Big boy,” your hands are on his wrist, effectively stopping Anton from reddening the skin any further.

He can feel you. He can feel the softness of your palms struggling to enclose around his large wrists.

“This is real,” he whispers, watching with wide, doe eyes as a smirk curls at the end of your lips. Before you can reply in whatever witty or snarky remark you had cooked up, Anton was already bending his head until his lips were crashing down to yours.

He very surprisingly, very uncharacteristically pours his strength into the kiss until you were stumbling back rather clumsily into his room.

Anton crumbles into a flurry moans and groans as he slips his tongue inside your mouth, melting into a whimpering puddle when your tongue brushes against his. “B-But when?” he breathes out before reattaching his lips to yours, letting his hands roam unabashedly over every part of your body it can find.

The infuriating need to breathe causes him to pull apart from you once again, but he never strays too far. Anton’s fingers dig into your sides until he's pulling your dress over your head. He wishes to capture every single inch of your exposed body to memory. The way you look up at him with a light, relieved smile curling at the sides of your puffy, red lips.

You're so much shorter than him, and it sends his brain into a mindless, state of lust. He loves how big he feels when you two are together, in the flesh with no digital box separating the two of you.

“H-How?” He breathes out, noting immediate that you are in the same white lace bra from your earlier phone call.

There is a cheeky smile on your face when you pull his oversized shirt over his head, all while he stares you down as if you hung the moon.

“I always keep my promises, Ant,”

His body betrays him with a rough shiver and he groans as you push him onto his bed, discarding his shirt behind you. As you prowl your way on top of him, Ant throws his head back into the sheets, nearly hyperventilating at the sight of you straddling his hips. You lift your torso, immediately discarding your bra, and Anton’s hand flies to cup your breasts. This, he immediately decides, is what heaven looks like.

“Fuck, you're so fucking pretty, you know that?” Anton rarely ever swore, so to hear the crass words coated in his airy, breathless voice is enough to have you moaning into the air, arching your back as you push his face into your chest while you press your core down onto his irresistible bulge.

“Oh God, Anton.”

“Missed you so much,’ he whines, before enclosing his mouth around your nipple, almost instinctively pushing his hips up to meet your desperate grinding. You were quite literally humping like maddened adolescents brimming with too many hormones to know what to do with.

When Anton feels his cock twitching in his pants, he immediately pulls away.

“Fuck,” he breathes out, “I need to be inside of you,” he admits gravely, already getting up to switch places until you were underneath his large and lumbering frame, “I don't think I'll last long,” Another grave admittance. He pushes his hand into his sweatpants, and you watch, mesmerized as he reveals his large, aching cock absolutely leaking precum.

“I'm definitely not gonna last long,” you reassure before eagerly opening your restless legs, “We're gonna cum together, yeah?” Anton squeezes his eyes shut before squeezing the base of his twitching dick. All while you slip your own underwear down.

“Yeah,” he agreed before positioning his cock at your weeping enterance.

You both watch mesmerized as his cock begins to stretch the tight walls of your soaked cunt. The stretch, immediately causing a whimper to slip out of your mouth as you throw your head back into the pillows. You're clenching around him, while Anton coaxes himself into you with shallow thrusts. The rutting being just enough to spill a wave of pleasure over the both of you. He watches you moan with wide, pained eyes.

“I know, baby-” He whisper, “You're doing so good for me, you know that?”

“Fuck, you're so big,” is all you're able to say, effectively causing his hips to stutter.

“F-Fuck I'm not gonna last long-”

Instead of repeating your response, you bring your hips up to meet Anton's thrusts effectively, taking him deeper and deeper until he was fucking you with little to no restraint.

“Oh God,” you whisper, as Anton clumsily brings a hand up to squeeze and pinch at your nipples. Not even a minute later and you're both sitting in the crest of your respective orgasms, looking deep into each other's eyes as if you were communicating that fact. Anton nods, completely dazed.

“Close,” he whimpers, “I'm so fucking close,”

Anton bends his head, spitting directly onto your clit. The sight has your hips stuttering, as the first signs of your orgasm warms your lower abdomen.

“F-Fuck, Ant- I'm-”

The moment his hand travels to rub dizzying wet circles on your clit, you crash into your orgasm.

“Oh fuck- oh fuck-” He fights to keep his eyes open but your squeezing him so hard and Anton can't help but cum directly inside of you. Both your lips are hanging open as your boyfriend attempts to fuck every last drop of his seed into you. You're both releasing months worth of frustration.

The frustration of not being near one another. Of relying on a device to keep your relationship afloat. It all comes crashing down until Anton's is thoughtlessly collapsing on top of you - the weight of a giant landing your front, with his hand playing lazily, wiyh your breasts as you both fight to catch your breathe.

Despite the obvious discomfort, the very last thing you think of doing is pushing him away. Instead, you cradle him closer, raking your fingers into his hair while his eyes flutter shut.

All is quiet, and you vaguely believe Anton may have fallen asleep, but his voice is wide awake as he says, “I thought you were cheating on me.”

You remain quiet, hoping the soft petting on his wild curls was reply enough.

“I'm never letting you go back, okay?”

Your eyes are heavy as you continue to smooothe down his hair, and you whisper, “Okay”.

♡♡♡

#anton lee x reader #riize x reader #riize smut #anton x reader #anton smut #anton riize #lee anton #lee anton x reader #lee anton smut #anton lee smut #riize fluff #riize hard hours #riize #riize x imagine #riize imagines #anton fluff #anton #riize headcanons

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innerfare · 2 months ago

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I Love You - Part 2

Summary: Who says I love you first? How do you say it?

Characters: Shanks, Beckman, Crocodile, Mihawk, Corazon, Marco

Genre: Fluff

CW: None // SFW

———

Shanks: The two of you have known each other for years before the words ever leave his lips. You’ve been through so much, and you never felt the need to put a label on it. But one night, you’re both swinging in a hammock on a beach, you in his arms and him sipping a bottle of booze, and he says out of nowhere, “you know that I love you, right?” You think he must be drunk but he insists he’s not, telling you it struck him recently that he’d never told you before and he really should in case something happens. He wants you to know how he really feels and how much you mean to him.

Beckman: He’s always visiting you on your home island, either finding excuses to plot a course straight to you or sneaking away for a few days. It’s only as he’s leaving one evening that it strikes him: he loves you. It takes him a very long time to decide to tell you. Given his lifestyle, a relationship isn’t exactly easy, and he would be putting you in danger should anyone learn your association to him. Plus, he enjoys his freedom. He works it over in his head for months, to the point Shanks even asks him about what’s bothering him, though Beckman doesn’t fess up. But he just can’t get you out of his head. He can’t sleep, he can’t eat, he can’t even focus in a fight. One late night, he returns to his cabin to find Shanks waiting. His captain has puzzled out what has the first mate in such a state, and Shanks tells him to go take care of his business. Beckman agrees and turns up at your doorstep at three in the morning with some flowers he picked on the side of the road because he felt awkward showing up empty handed. You lead him into your kitchen and make him something to drink, thinking something horrible has happened, only for him to confess his love for you. He’s not shy about saying it after that, always making sure to tell you when he greets you and says goodbye, as well as several times in between.

Crocodile: He despises the word love, would never even utter it except to mock people who use it. He thinks it’s weak, thinks men who profess love are sniveling and pathetic, thus the reason he despises himself for feeling it. The emotion creeps up on him slowly but surely, and he beats it back and bottles it up for as long as he can, staying up late at night with a bottle of whiskey because laying in bed makes him think of you and your mischievous smile. Only when he is locked up in Impel Down does he finally, begrudgingly admit to himself that he feels deep affection for you, which he painfully admits to you one night after he breaks out, bracing himself for you to reject him, laugh at him, or spurn him in any way. When you tell him you feel the same way, he decides that is that and sees no reason to ever repeat it, your mutual and abiding affection one of his most closely-guarded secrets.

Mihawk: He doesn’t tell you when he feels it, however overwhelming the feeling may be, so you’ll definitely be the one to say it first. This man is the king of unspoken affection. He’d sooner die than draw his sword and cut through all the tension that seems to follow him. That being said, he does say it in other, more subtle ways, primarily referring to you as, “my love,” and leaving it at that. When you finally tell him you love him, he doesn’t even say it back, simply burying his face in your hair and saying, “I’m glad to hear it, my love.” He shocks you by saying it back a few months later, though you don’t say it back, instead pulling him in for a kiss. And it continues like that, only one of you ever saying it, the other responding with affection.

Corazon: A victim of near insta-love, he knows better than to tell you how he’s feeling when he first meets you. He tells himself to wait a month, and then at the one month mark, it seems premature, so he pushes it to two. Then, he pushes it to three, and then to four, and then to five. He thinks he’s good at hiding it, and normally, he is good at hiding his emotions, but with you, it’s all out in the open. You catch on pretty quickly to how he feels, have even seen him start to form the words only for his face to fall and him to turn away. Eventually, one night, you ask him, “why haven’t you told me you love me yet?” He’s shocked to discover you know the truth, and when you laugh and tell him it was pretty obvious, he laughs, too, his heart soaring when you tell him you feel the same way. He’s overwhelmed by the feeling that he has a family, something he’s been desperately wanting since he was just a little kid.

Marco: He says it first. He’s loved and lost so many people, formed the family he never had as a kid and lost so many members along the way. And he’s done a measure of living, enough to know that love should never be hidden. So when he realizes he’s in love with you, he swallows all of his fear like a seasoned professional and tells you exactly what’s on his mind the next time you two have a quiet moment alone. He’s soft and gentle in that moment, too, just as he is in all the moments you two share, just the two of you. He says it often, always either turning away or burying his face in your hair when you say it back, overwhelmed with giddiness he’s certain a man of his age and standing should not be feeling.

———

Hope you enjoyed it! If you want more, you can check out my masterlist here!

#one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece fluff #shanks x reader #benn beckman x reader #beckman x reader #crocodile x reader #sir crocodile x reader #mihawk x reader #corazon x reader #rosinante x reader #Marco x reader #Marco the phoenix x reader #shanks #benn beckman #sir crocodile #mihawk #marco the phoenix #one piece rosinante

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jaal-ama-daravv · 19 days ago

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dissecting the emmrich lich romance argument scene (all routes)

dissecting the graveyard scene dissecting the alternate romance path dissecting the emmrich romance scene (lich) emmrich x rook cinematic (lich) emmrich x rook cinematic (mortal)

Dissection - Mortal Emmrich Argument Scene Version

Emmrich Romance - Argument Scene (Lich Path)

i love and hate this scene so let's get into it -

keep in mind that even though emmrich is now a lich, his fear of death is still very much alive. emmrich immediately expresses his feelings to rook stating that he hopes that they can stay back abit in the battle. for fear that they will be hurt, or killed.

the second 'No' escapes Rook's lips, Emmrich bows his head with sadness. He wishes that she would heed his words because he is afraid to lose her.

Rook's response infers that she is offended by the request to have her 'stay back aways' during the battle, keeping in mind that this battle is rook's and she has been fighting it this whole time. yet, rook still shows that she cares for emmrich, by asking what brought this on.

emmrich states that he can see the life course through us, but is aware that he will lose us to time. in this one sentence emmrich is telling us that he is afraid of rook dying, he is deathly afraid to lose rook, and thats not even overselling it. Emmrich is afraid he will miss Rook forever and will never get over it.

which quite frankly, he wouldn't.

Divergence - Option 1

Rook responds with 'Oh, Emmrich' - Rook is calm and considerate in this response, knowing his fears are real to him.

even as I am (a lich) the mind (rationality) is a victim of the heart (love for rook, fear of them dying). even as emmrich is a lich, his fear of death is rampart, now mostly transferred to rook. emmrich is calm when spaeaking, but fear can be heard in his voice.

im no fan of this line, but it's what im working with so - it feels, double barrelled. on one hand telling emmrich he is not great at keeping stuff in because he is emotional and has panic attacks, and in the same sentence telling the big softy to not mourn the love of his life forever.

this line is delivered with some condescension, and honestly, valid, as the previous line feels on par with Divergence Path 2, invalidating emmrichs fears/feeling for rook. in saying that, emmrich is trying to plead with rook to be careful.

valid all around - rook wake up and smell that the man loves you immensely please

he can, and will be, because he is in love with you

facts - once again, hello darkness my old friend, its fear of death calling

ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch ouch

Divergence - Option 2

You ever been mid panic attack and someone cracks a joke? that is exactly emmrichs response and mindset going forward. now watch the anxiety and panic escalate

rook once again, missing the beat, emmrich escalates by reiterating that he is afraid to mourn rook forever. his voice is shaking. this man is breaking his own heart by imaging the death of his beloved. reiterating my point in earlier posts that emmrich, whilst experiencing relationships and love before, hasnt experienced rook and the connection they share. im reiterating my soulmate trope here - and as we continue

i cant defend rook on this point anymore, 3 strikes ur out

defeat slicks off of emmrichs voice as he speaks this line, inferring 'does rook not love me?' 'does she not feel this'

bottom line is rook is in love with emmrich, just as much as he is with her. rook is however pre-occupied with survivng and getting through the battle, whereas emmrich in this moment in knuckled down in black and white thinking - which has been unfortunately backed up by rooks lil jokes. his anger is valid, just as -

Rooks concern with no realsing that Emmrich is having a menty b, is also valid.

both have their defensives up now. rook for upsetting emmrich, and initially being upset at the notion of 'stay back aways in battle' and emmrich for being scared out of his skull that rook will not exist anymore and he has to spend enternity mourning her, also feeling rejected.

Divergence - Option 3

oh jesus -

on god im trying to be non-biased for this but cmon. the man has a gutteral fear of death, he became a lich he was so scared, you were there rook.

valid king

possible, but rook, sweetie, you're being invalidating.

I was gonna make a comment but then -

insert office stare meme

so here - emmrich is clearly tired of trying to explain himself to rook, and rook backfires with just wanting emmrich to be happy, and calling him an idiot. imo, this route is a straight up argument, whilst both path 1 and 2 have some depth to it. I believe it was done this was because when you choose the mortal path for emmrich, it focuses around supporting emmrich to be happy 'in the now', whereas in the lich path, there is no now for emmrich, it is forever, it will always be forever. I believe this path is to show the frustration between rook and emmrich, one being mortal and immortal, whereas the other two paths have a focus of acceptance. whilst not there yet, its apparent.

All routes lead to -

rook has now said something to akin of a personal insult to emmrich, which then leads rook to 'snapping out of it' as their face changes to disbelief 'oh my did I just say that' aka regret, with Emmrich bowing his head and saying "Rook, I..." in response. Rook states that they should pack as they have to leave soon.

if biowares goal was to have me fear for mine and emmrichs life in the upcoming mission, they succeeded.

All routes leave emmrich feeling scared and confused as he looks to the gorund, holding his hands together -

and rook mumbling under their breath, with confusing and 'ugh, i just wanna shake him and kiss him energy' - rook recognises that emmrich is afraid, and their faults in the conversation.

all in all, this is a touch scene, because it is evident how scared they both are and just want the other to survive so they can be safely back home together. the lich version is more centered around death and mourning as they have alreayd broached the l word, where in the mortal version, you can essentially call emmrich a coward. a very heart breaking scene, which adds numerous layers of depth to emmrich and rook as characters who have flaws but are still loved.

imo, i stand tall that emmrich and rook are in love with eachother and it becomes more evident in the next scene. they have this soulmate type of love, the kind where you would hang off the side of a cliff, hanging on by the strength of your index finger if it meant you could save them. the type of love where one look speaks a thousand words. the type of love that a lich lord would go rogue trying to bring their dead love back.

to add on to the soulmate lover trope this snippet from the Flame Eternal short story feat. Emmrich & Johanna where they are burying a deceased lover with another.

"Johanna snorted. “All that fury, ending in another grave.” “Oh, I don’t know.” Emmrich ran a hand along the coffin’s snowy marble. “It would be rather fine to possess such an enduring affection. Besides, you did see this through.”

Emmrich YEARNS for love. YEARNS. He has yearned for the type of love him and Rook have for over 20 years, at least. THE MAN IS RUNNING HIS FINGER ALONG A COFFIN AND ROMANTICING IT. Romanticising possibly, loving someone so much that he is buried with them (quote flashback to Hezenkoss in the final boss battle of "Ill make sure to bury you and your new lover together", now has more depth) or loving someone so much that love would be eternal together, that type of love where you want to be buried together. for over 20 years he has yearned for this love, and he has found it in the middle of the end of the world. please note that emmrich has a fear of abandonement as well like, huge. oh and add in the comment made by Harding in game about Rook and Emmrich moving too fast, please there is only one trope that goes from 0-100 real fucking fast.

Sending thanks to @galedekarios for sharing a conversation between Davrin and Emmrich, here. This post adds a tremendous amount of depth to this argument conversation. I 100% AGREE with Gale's depiction of 'Emmrich not being equipped for lichdom' because it makes sense. If you think back to the lichdom decision scene and dissection, we mentioned how Emmrich had everything he needs to do lichdom. No?? Clearly not. look at what we have just dissected. Then further on the man is practically on his knees begging rook to be careful, telling them that he will find them in another world. In the event of Rooks death, Emmrich would go rogue. He would lose it. Yes, he is a kind and gentle soul, but he has that fire in him. A protective, and obsessive power that he would do anything to bring back his love.

Additionally, Emmrich grew up poor. This would impact his view on society and love. But more impactfully, it would impact his view on himself. His self-worth. Emmrich likely thinks he doesnt deserve this type of love. Hence the attempt to push Rook away and act over-suave at times.

considering dragon age veilguard is centered around the theme of regret, it is no suprise that saying things you regret have showed up in this game, particularly before the eve of battle and impending doom.

ill have the romance scene dissection soon for you hungry necromancer lovers - ill likely do the mortal versions as well

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ellecdc · 12 days ago

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Evan's little freak (affectionate)

prompt: There's something oddly comforting to me about how if I was freaking out about something and they were in their blitzed out state they'd help me calm down while sort of thinking I was a weird freak. - @moonstruckme

poly!rosekiller x fem!reader who is having some sort of mental breakdown [1k words]

CW: reader is having a quasi-panic attack, rosekiller do their best to help but they truly Don't Get It™, they think she's weird but love her anyway

Evan found himself very much unprepared and ill equipped to handle this right now.

You’d come flying into the flat in a tizzy rambling on and on about some great injustice or upheaval in your life at a million miles an hour without hardly even sparing him or Barty a glance.

Granted, the second blunt may have been a little much, but he generally did not know how to handle big emotions. The horrified and uncomfortable expression that Barty was wearing told Evan that he, at least, felt the same. Neither boy grew up exactly encouraged to feel their feelings out loud; pushing down all upset didn’t exactly lend itself well to empathy and compassion.

He wondered if he was simply imagining the heavy smoke in the room or if you were just oblivious to it; either way, you were clearly not on the same level as the two boys.

He’d come to the conclusion about two and a half minutes into your tangent that no one was dead or dying, and when he deduced that those were the only scenarios worth this amount of anxiety, he more or less sort of tuned you out; only registering the panicky quality of your voice.

Barty had tried calling your name a few times which only seemed to spur you on and cause Barty to look over at him in a bemused sort of concern. “What the fuck? Are you seeing this?” Barty seemed to be asking.

I am seeing this, what the fuck, indeed.

“Sugar,” Evan tried in his most authoritative tone, hoping to hell that his words didn’t sound as slow and languid as the felt on his tongue, “you need to settle down.”

That had, apparently, been the wrong thing to say if the way you turned your body towards him with wild eyes and nearly shaking hands meant anything.

“I can’t!” You shrieked, causing Barty to actually wince at the pitch your voice took.

“But…why not?” Barty asked cautiously, and you burst into tears.

“Fuck me.” Evan groaned under his breath as he stamped out the end of his blunt; he was clearly done for the day. “Alright, hold on. Let me get my shit together so I can talk some sense into you. Calm down.”

“I can’t.” You keened, Evan tsked at you.

“Jesus Christ, you’re wild today.” He commented as he flung open the windows. Barty was already in the kitchen grabbing bottles of water and some snacks; following proper sober up protocol.

Evan took the time to actually move the ashtray to the opposite side of the room, hoping to have as clear a head as he possibly could to deal with his wound tight little minx. Ruining his high by being all adorable and weird. You were lucky you were so cute.

“Treasure, you need to go sit down.” Barty murmured then as you seemed to be frozen in some sort of panicky fright in the centre of the kitchen. “Or maybe light up for a minute…” He added sarcastically under his breath. Unfortunately for Evan, you heard him.

“I can’t do that, Barty! I get paranoid!”

“As opposed to whatever you are right now?” Barty asked incredulously then, and you let out a gut wrenching sob.

“Okay! Okay, fuckin’ hell. Come here.” Evan called as he sat back down in his chair and beckoned you forward with one impatient hand.

“This is too much, Sugar.” He chided as he pulled you down onto his lap. “You’re going to make yourself sick.”

“But-”

“Enough; your only job is to breathe right now, got it?”

You sucked in a shuddering breath as you nodded; eyes squeezed shut, forcing a steady stream of tears down your cheeks. You looked pitiful.

“He didn’t say to hold your breath.” Barty commented gently as he sat on an ottoman in front of Evan’s chair and tried to hand each of you a bottle of water - Evan took both. But the breath that escaped your lips was forceful and left you panting for more. “Oi! Not like that, hey. Deeper breaths, Tres.”

“Y/N. Relax, doll. Relax. You’re fine.” Evan chided; his hand resting on your lower back and his thumb drawing circles at the space between the top of your jeans and the bottom of your shirt gave way to skin.

The flat fell quiet save for the sound of your breathing - at first shuddering, then practised and intentional, and finally settling into a more natural cadence - as Evan drew lines up and down your back with one hand and drew circles with his thumb on your knee with the other, and Barty fiddled distractedly with your fingers.

“I’m sorry.” You whimpered eventually, and both Evan and Barty let out sighs of relief.

“That was fucking wild, Treasure. Absolutely deranged.” Barty scolded playfully, pulling your fingers to his lips for a kiss.

“Scared the shit out of me, Sugar. I thought someone was dying.”

“I didn’t mean to worry you…” you offered shyly, shoulders curling in on yourself as if you sort of wanted to disappear. Evan pulled you roughly into his chest and stamped a kiss to your forehead.

“I’m always worried about you, weird little freak.”

“I’m gonna need like, five more blunts after that. Do I have grey hairs? I feel like I have grey hair now. You’re ageing me, Treasure. You’re sending me to an early grave.” Though you clearly accepted Barty’s teasing for what it was when you returned his kiss fervently.

“No more blunts.” Evan called as Barty moved to put on a record. “Next time she comes in like a bat out of hell, I would like to have our wits about us. Hm? Give us a fighting chance.”

“So we’re rawdogging our way through life from now on? Alright, Ev; but if I start having meltdowns like our perfect little freak over there, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself!”

“....Maybe one blunt a day?” Evan asked you when Barty disappeared around the corner; murmuring the question into the slightly damp hairs at your temple.

“Maybe so.” You agreed with a tired chuckle turned sigh. He couldn’t blame you; if he was tired after all of that, you must be exhausted.

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thesilmarillionblog · 2 months ago

Text

𝐖𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄

Click here for Series Masterlist.

Summary: In the hopes that things would improve between you, you choose to lose your virginity to your friend Dean Winchester because you have been in love with him madly for a long time. However, he doesn't feel the same about you.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Warnings: +18 (MINORS DNI) smut, virgin reader!, unrequited love, heavy angst, reader gets hurt, kinda friends with benefits, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, fingering, language

Word Count: 7216

A/N: English is not my first language.

Song: 'WASTE' by Kxllswxtch

Dean's eyes narrowed as he treated your wounded hand; you smiled a little to yourself as he talked about how you sometimes behaved recklessly. If only he knew how much you cherished the moments when he protected you during a hunt.

You had been with him and Sam for a year now, and it was difficult to resist falling in love with him. You weren't sure when you fell in love with him, but you sensed it from the moment he smiled at you, or maybe in a random moment. Every time you glanced into his green eyes, you felt a sense of admiration. You had absolutely no complaints.

He complained as he was working to treat your wound, “You must know, I will consider kicking you out of the team if you keep acting like that.”

It began to rain in your house's weak light. Your heart was filled with fright as he took care of your wound in your house, where you were alone, and it seemed so calm; you were afraid of losing that precious, fragile time with Dean, not of ghosts. You weren't afraid of ghosts.

You asked naively, as if you had no idea what he was talking about, “Like what?” When he grabbed your hand too tightly unintentionally, and that sudden moment hurt you a bit, you attempted to draw it in toward yourself with a pained gasp.

With a look of regret on his face, you looked at him with understanding.

“When I tell you to get behind me, you must do what I say, or when I tell you to stop, you must stop.”

“Remember the previous case in point,” you sighed. “If I did what you told me, we'd both be dead.” You looked up to see how he was feeling.

“It was only a single exception,” Dean immediately defended himself, rolling his eyes at you.

“However, if I had listened to you, I would have been killed. You too,” you mutely remarked. You weren't attempting to put the blame on him. You were aware that he was guarding Sam and you constantly. You dropped your eyes to your eyes as he looked at you, feeling instantly overwhelmed and overpowered by his piercing stare. “I promise that when I go hunting, I'm not being careless. I truly listen to you, but you must have some degree of faith in me. Since I joined you and Sam months ago, I'm convinced he has more faith in me.”

You wanted Dean to think highly of you, someone whom he could always trust, just as you trusted him with your life. You wanted him to trust you, your strength, and your feelings. Even if you were quite successful, you felt that he still seemed to be unsure about you.

This time, instead of cracking one of his jokes to lighten the mood, he seemed to be deep in focus. When he appeared so confused and like he was in pain on the inside, you wondered what exactly he was thinking. Though you didn't think you could stop him from ruminating at that moment, you still wanted to help him if he was in pain, calm him down if he was feeling anxious, and comfort him if he was feeling uneasy.

The sense of worthlessness was an emotion you wanted to stay away from.

When he noticed that you weren't as happy as you had been minutes before, he stated in a dry voice, “I don't want you to get killed or hurt because of me. I do trust you, but you have to stop acting reckless and try to save me by endangering yourself.”

“I wasn't putting myself at risk. You're exaggerating,” you said as you continued to examine his hands while he continued to take care of your wounded hand.

“You're very stubborn, aren't you?” In an attempt to soften the thick air, Dean smiled back weakly.

You chuckled and tried to catch his gaze by raising your head as you drew nearer and moved on to where you were sitting. “But Sam thinks I'm the easiest one to get along with and easiest to persuade,” you said.

Dean winked at you suspiciously and said, “Hey, I guess you were right about something.”

“About what?”

“He's dumb when it comes to reading people, huh?”

You muttered, “Asshole,” and gave him a little leg kick. It made him laugh, which made you joyful.

Dean let go of your hand, gave you a long, odd smile, and checked his watch after making sure you were okay and being well taken care of. You could feel the joy leave your body when you realized he wasn't going to stay or anything. You had no idea how to get him to stay with you, at least for a day, at your home. Still, he was always on the move. It's fortunate that he didn't hear how quickly your heart was beating, how much you wanted his touch, and everything else.

You said in a hushed tone, as if you didn't give a damn whether he said ‘yes,’ but you cared like crazy. “You can spend the night in here if you wish.”

“I think I have other plans for tonight,” he remarked, flashing you his adorable grin and a wink. “We move so much throughout the day. The town must have missed me.”

You chuckled slightly and said, "By whom exactly, Mr. Loverman?” You noticed that the rain was falling more quickly through the glass.

Dean gave you a haughty look and stated, “By ladies, of course,” which made you jealous, but you didn't want to show it to him and ruin your friendship.

Playing with the fabric of your sweatpants, you said, “Boys. They come and go.” You attempted to ignore the vivid images of Dean with other women that were playing out in your head. It was unavoidable, but you didn't want to get jealous and mess up everything. “New ones appear all the time. Don't be worried about the women who missed you.”

He smiled and replied, “You're a smartass, aren't you?” You felt encouraged to continue since he didn't appear to be offended or anything.

“And you're overconfident in yourself. Have you yet to be rejected by someone? Not even once?” You said it inquisitively.

“Just once,” Dean remarked humorously. It eluded you whether he was being serious or joking. At times, it was difficult to understand him.

You tried to chuckle as you remarked, “Must be fun.” You sounded like you were going to choke though.

Dean spoke for a little while before attempting to get up and leave your home, but the electricity unexpectedly cut off, leaving you gasping in surprise. You backed away from him with a shy grin, not because you were afraid, just because you realized you had touched his knee.

You said, “Ah, it doesn't look like the rain is going to stop soon,” and to your relief, he sat back on the seat. As it was pouring heavily, you expressed your gratitude to God and Michael for their generosity and compassion, which you felt had come once in a lifetime.

At least once, you prayed that night's rain would never cease so Dean wouldn't go.

"Yeah," he said in a dry voice. It was your hope that he wouldn't feel stuck with you and let down. Dean was aware that although you weren't terrified of ghosts, you were fearful of being alone yourself in the dark. “Do you want me to light a candle?”

You timidly replied, “I guess I don't have any.”

“All right.”

“Are you still planning to leave or spend the night?” You tried not to seem enthusiastic as you asked, but with anticipation. You hoped that his ability to read your face in the dark would be poor.

“I suppose it's best if I stay with you. You're a lovely young girl who, in the end, is more terrified of the dark than ghosts. As a gentleman,” he murmured, moving to a more comfortable position on the coach. “It's my responsibility to protect and repay you tonight, don't I?”

You laughed as though he had made a joke, but in reality, you were only finding it difficult to hide your happiness at his answer that he would stay. The angels seemed to fill your heart with such incredible bliss. If it would force him to spend his time with you in that manner, you may put yourself at ongoing risk. You wished he understood how much you valued each and every word he said.

“How about you, though?” Dean asked out of the blue. Although his face was concealing himself in the darkness, you could tell by the tone of his words that he was perplexed.

You asked, perplexed, not understanding what he was talking about, “What about me?”

“I haven't seen you with...someone in a long time since you joined us,” he said. You may argue that he spoke slowly in order to carefully select his words so as not to offend you or cause you distress. “Actually, I've never seen you with someone nor heard you talking about anyone.”

You attempted to give him a confident smile, but all you managed to do was give him off an odd look. “Uhm,” you stammered out while attempting to think of anything to say without looking foolish. “Those hunts are challenging and exhausting.” You attempted to explain to him, “I'm not interested in seeing someone right now, and I can't find time for myself.” You were hoping he wouldn't dig too much.

You weren’t the best when it came to lying.

As if he wasn't okay with your explanation, he grumbled, “We've been staying here for a month, and we are not even that busy.”

You wouldn't tell Dean that you were an inexperienced one in your mid-20s, as you knew he was very skilled with women. You just could not possibly make yourself look so foolish in front of him. You were unsure what he would think about you. Definitely, it was best to remain silent.

You said, “I'm just not interested and feel like I have no time for anyone,” trying not to sound like lying. Although it wasn't a total lie, how in the world could you admit that you were truly interested in someone, him, and that's the reason you weren't interested in anybody else?

You wanted he could read the words on your lips and your voice so you wouldn't have been trying so hard to explain things to him while hiding yourself away from him for so long.

Love was something that both wanted to be hidden and to be revealed. It was complicated and bizarre.

Dean finally responded, “You're right, actually,” after giving you a long stare. “You should avoid things that might distract the focus of your attention. Men might easily split your soft and lovely heart in half.”

You asked, irritated, “Why do you say that?” You always believed that since you avoided people so well, nobody would ever consider hurting you or anything like that.

As he moved a little closer to you, Dean smirked and remarked, “Like you say,” which made you tense. You couldn't see him well, but his smile was joyful. Before continuing, he arched an eyebrow and nibbled his bottom lip. “I'm ladies' man. I read women really well, and you're easy to see through.”

You said to him, “You really are a ladies' man. But I'd say you are illiterate.”

Dean gave you a small chuckle and made the decision not to push you too far or make you feel more shy. And anyhow, he wouldn't allow you to talk about males, not right now. You did not require guidance since you did well on your own. “Hey, I see that you’re a little sharp today. After taking care of your wounded hand, I made the decision to spend the night with you and look how you treat me. You're being ungrateful.”

He made a false furious look at you, and you couldn't stop laughing. “You do realize, though, that I have once again saved your ass. I'm beginning to feel like you must repay me for acting as your guard. Like an angel.” You gave him a little smile and added, “That means something, right?”

Dean said, “It does,” with the same lighthearted tone as you, his eyes examining your face up close in the dark as your smile slowly faded from the corners of your lips.

You gasped in surprise and fright when an unexpected lightning strike struck with such force it seemed like the sky had been split in half. Dean laughed, seeing as how you really jumped on the coach.

“I can't believe you're not afraid of ghosts, witches and all, but just some raindrops,” he stated in astonishment. Your pulse beat like crazy when you felt his breath close to you, but Dean probably assumed it was because you were frightened.

Both of your arms and legs touched, but you tried not to react. “I'm not afraid of rainy weather or something,” you replied. “It's normal to be jumpy when an unexpected noise like lightning appears.”

In an attempt to annoy you, Dean said in a persuasive voice, “It was just simple lightning. Many things might come as unexpected. You can't always get scared.”

You said, “Like what things?” as if in plea.

You stared at his wonderfully shaped lips in the darkness as he spoke in a whisper. Your lips felt so dry that you wanted to lick them. Although you hoped he didn't notice, at that point you weren't really worried. Yes, you were a virgin with no prior experience, and you were very determined to keep your body and mind closed off to others, but things seemed different when you met Dean. It wasn't that you were old-fashioned-minded; you just wanted to be with someone you cared for, someone you loved.

You were aware that the desire to be near him was more than simply passion; you wanted to touch his face, jaw, hair, and every other part of him. Your soul yearned to be near him desperately.

Dean failed to notice when another lightning strike made you jump. It wasn't the finest moment for him to think clearly. There was always something enjoyable to do. Given that you've known each other for a while and that it must have been a while since you allowed someone to touch you, it seemed appropriate to blow off steam with each other. It was, after all, a difficult and somewhat tiresome a few hours earlier.

Just when you thought you were going to pass out, Dean suddenly captured your lips and began to give you an urgent, intense kiss. Yes, you were somewhat inexperienced, but at least you've had a kiss. Quite some time ago, indeed. You made an effort to calm down, returned his kisses with your best effort, let your racing thoughts disappear into the darkness, and gave yourself over to that single perfect moment.

You sucked Dean's lower lip, and your fingers stroked his jaw as his skillful tongue dominated yours. He must have been encouraged by your response because he moaned a bit as he shoved you back on the coach and pushed you to lie under him. He kept giving you firm kisses throughout.

His muscular neck was stroked by your hands as you drew him in between your knees. You shuddered as he put his body between your legs. It was the realization that your body was missing something that you were unable to identify. Your entire body exuded passion and desire. It hurt to need Dean so much. You had no idea how you had been able to contain yourself for so long.

You were longing to touch him all over.

Dean moved his lips to your throat, allowing you to take a deep breath. You were unable to contain a giggle as he violently sucked on your neck and throat. You realized you were sensitive there.

“Don't keep those lovely noises from me. Are we not the only ones alone in here?” While he boldly touched your skin beneath your shirt, Dean whispered. Though you urged yourself to relax down a little, you felt like your heart would burst at any minute.

It was possible that he might back off if you revealed to him that you were a virgin. It was certain that he would. You attempted to pretend that you had experience too and that it had simply been a long time because he was just interested in hook-ups, and that's what you were going to go through. It hurt to admit it, but maybe things would change.

You never would have imagined that you would feel that way about Dean, and you refused to miss the opportunity to be with him by telling him you weren't deflowered just yet. All you had to do was appear bold and avoid raising suspicion with your awkwardness.

Your cheeks flushed red, but at least the room was completely dark, keeping your almost scared gaze and timid finger movements hidden from him.

Your hands gently slipped inside his t-shirt, touching every muscle in so as to savor it. Your breath quivered with anticipation as your palm brushed every part of him. You could never let someone else touch you in the same manner that Dean did.

Dean's eyes were on you, and as he nibbled your lower lip, you urged him to remove his shirt. You could see he was smiling a little bit when he pulled it off. That you were prepared to go one step beyond thrilled him.

You must have pushed your injured hand a little bit hard when you gasped in little pain after both of your hands reached his back and you enjoyed the feeling of his muscles beneath your palms.

“Hey, be careful and take your time there. Remember that all you are is a wounded gazelle under my mercy. You’re a greedy one, aren’t you?” As he worked on your clothing, Dean said in amusement.

You moaned in surprise as one of his hands slipped into your shirt and gave you a strong grip on your nipple. “Maybe I am,” you murmured, almost laughing, but the noise you made turned into a moan.

You made a little movement beneath him. It seemed as though your body needed something from you or him, but you were completely unaware of what was going on. All you knew was that you were desperate for Dean to do something.

You gasped somewhat alarmed as your nipple hardened between his skilled fingertips. As he slid on top of you and played with your tits, you got excited more and more, assuming that he wanted this as much as you did. You thought for a moment that it was actually romantic considering it was all dark and raining like hell outside, like the whole heaven wanted you to be with him.

You nailed Dean's back with boldness, crushed your lips to his once more, kissing him with desire while trying your hardest not to show Dean how shy you were in fact. It relieved you to hear him groan a bit in your mouth. You moaned quietly into his lips as soon as his thumb started playing with your nipples once again.

Dean moved quickly to help you remove your shirt by pulling back. You were shivering a little, but even though he was making your skin hot, you would have blamed the room's cool temperature if he had asked.

His lips made their way to your nipples, where he expertly sucked them with his tongue. Your back arched as his lips nibbled your breasts delicately, and you forgot about your envious thoughts about how many other women he had treated like this. This time, you were unable to stop your loud moan from filling the room.

Dean gave both of your nipples little licks and a firm kiss after sucking your tits for many minutes, making them slippery with his spit, and making you cry out beneath his body. You didn't know how pleasurable it was to be with someone doing such things.You were aware that you were attempting to create friction by placing your leg on his hip.

He whispered to your lips, “I bet you're fucking dripping there,” as his hands gently moved into your sweatpants. He was trying to see every expression on your face in the dark. His voice was rough as he asked, “Are you wet enough to take me?”

You managed to say something like “Hmm,” which is sufficient. “I think I am.”

“We must be sure,” Dean remarked in a lighthearted manner. “Let's see.”

Dean slid his fingers slowly inside your sweatpants. He was grinning a little over you when he heard your heartbeat. As you waited for what was going to happen, you gripped onto his shoulder.

His fingers touched your underwear, causing you to gasp in surprise as he gave you a soft touch. Every second, you felt like you were becoming wetter. You believed you might orgasm at any minute since your clit was so sensitive to him. You wanted more because of how ethereal and gentle his hands were. You needed to raise your hip to him and squeeze his bisceps in order to receive what your body craved.

Satisfied, Dean moved your underwear aside as he watched you twitch under him in desperation. He rubbed your clit some more, then used two fingers to feel how wet you were.

Dean kept pushing back on his groan. He said in surprise, “Fuck, I knew you'd be wet, but you are literally leaking there.” You had no idea whether or not it satisfied him. All you wanted to do was the right thing. Regardless of what it was.

You lied when you said, “It's been very, very long,” since you had no idea what to say. The way he responded truly made you feel a little awkward.

You felt better after sharing quick kisses on the lips with him. “Good,” was Dean's sharp reply. “How many times can I get you to come to me tonight? You deserve appropriate treatment in light of the effort you have been doing these last few months, you know. I must reward you.”

Encouraged, you had a blossoming sensation of bliss and anticipation in your chest. You wished that light would never return and that you and him would always be in the dark together in that very moment.

He touched you during hunts and other times to make jokes, but you didn't used to be physical like that. Watching him being intimate with other women except you was agonizing. But now you knew you could touch him whatever you pleased right now. Just like you imagined when you thought about him, you touched yourself.

Dean palmed your moisture in his hand, causing you to both pant into each other's mouths. You felt a little uneasy as one of his fingers began to gently press into your entrance since you weren't sure if it would hurt that much or not. You just didn't tell him anything since you didn't want to spoil things. All you did was wait expectantly.

He said, “You're a tight one, aren't you?” as he kept his finger inside of you. You were glad Dean wasn't being swift with you. You withdrew your lips from biting and captured his, pushing him into doing what he needed or desired as well.

Dean expected that you would be tight, but he didn't anticipate that level of tightness. He was taken aback by how tightly your walls clamped around his finger, and he couldn't help getting thrilled at the thought of feeling your cock around him. He was shivering with excitement coursing through his veins.

You bit your lip hard in pain as he pressed his thick finger a little further. You didn't make any sound that might have stopped him. Dean would stop in an instant, you knew.

He must have realized how uncomfortable you were, though, because he began to touch your clit more in an effort to prepare you to become accustomed to him and make you wet enough to take him.

As he worked on your clit, he remarked, somewhat smirking, “It seems we need to get you ready for me; otherwise, it might be painful a bit for you.”

“I'm prepared. Really,” you said, lifting your hips in the course of action. “You can go on.”

Dean groaned a bit and pressed his finger inside again. He used extreme caution. You whimpered and attempted to make yourself quiet by stealing kisses from him to silence your whimpers.

Dean withdrew his finger and then thrust it back, not allowing you to say something. His abrupt movement caused your lips to parted in pleasure and enthusiasm. Even though there was still some discomfort, it was soon overshadowed by pleasure and desire as he began to properly finger you. You grabbed onto his shoulders because your pussy hurt from yearning. You tried to put your groaning mouth into Dean's, but he wouldn't let you kiss him.

You could not help but let a moan out in ecstasy as your back arched when he gently pushed another finger and began to fuck you with them. You made a valiant effort, but it was impossible to avoid coming so quickly and effortlessly.

Dean moaned, “Give it to me,” realizing that you were making it difficult to come. “Come to me now. You're almost there; I know that.”

As soon as your climax hit, Dean grabbed your lips and planted a passionate kiss on it as he touched your chin with one hand, allowing you to ride your pleasure in between moans.

Your hips rose to get more pleasure as though you could, your back arched, and your walls clenched hard as you rode your climax. Dean's experienced tongue expertly dominated yours as he murmured into your lips. He withdrew to give you a bit of time, and while he did so, he studied your face in the darkness, as if he wanted to remember each and every shadow that passed across your skin in the flickering light.

He was at a loss as to why he had never touched you before. For a while, at least, it felt pleasant enough to become sidetracked.

Your cheeks became scarlet as your climax wore on, but you were itching to go one step more. For that, you were ready. For a long while, you had been ready to give Dean everything.

If he asked, there was nothing you wouldn't give away.

You planted a hesitant kiss on him to gauge his reaction before your shaky hands made contact with his legs and through his trousers. You could see more of his face as your eyes grew used to the gloom. Your hands became braver as you watched him smile, and boldness invaded your body and thoughts. The sexual experience shouldn't be difficult. Particularly with him.

Shortly after your hand briefly ran over his hardened cock through his trousers, your fingers somewhat slid into his boxer. You were taking your time to gauge his reaction. You were hoping he wouldn't say no, draw a line, or worse, end it up.

You yearned to offer him the same pleasure that he gave you.

In a weak but hopeful voice, you asked, “Can I touch you?”

With a charming chuckle, Dean added, “You can do whatever you like.” His voice carried expectation, which made you thrilled even more.

You reached out and stroked his erect cock, feeling that it was safe to go a step further and meet his gaze with yours. His sly smile vanished from his mouth as he stifled a moan and shifted on top of you, his hand still resting on your thighs and legs.

He said, “It seems like you're cold,” as soon as you began to touch him.

You retracted your icy hand in an ashamed attempt to mumble a “sorry,” but Dean reacted swiftly and put your hand back to his aching cock.

He responded, “We'll get you warm,” and helped you put your hand around his cock to feel closer to him and to give you the confidence to continue. “Your hand feels so good around me.”

Driven by his words, you felt each vein on his cock and then circled your fingers around it to memorize him. You weren't familiar with his length or anything because you weren't an expert on male anatomy, but he was thick, so it was difficult to properly wrap your hands around him. You reasoned that it would be best to take some action to get him to come.

You moved your hands and began to rub him, trying not to feel shy as you stared into his eyes. Your chest was rising with excitement, and your breathing was heavy. His gasping for air made you pleased and aroused; all you had to do was give him the same pleasure.

Dean told you, “You're doing so good,” in between strokes.

You inquired quietly, “Do you like it?”

“I really like it,” Dean said as he planted a kiss on your neck. He paused at your sweatpants and began to carefully lower them with his hands.

Your hands were moving more quickly on him, and your heart was racing. He felt larger in your grip. He was nearly there. But Dean gently stopped you, pushing your hands aside and planting a kiss on your lips. You sensed that the big move was about to happen.

He saw you were becoming stiff as he assisted you in taking down your sweatpants and underwear, so he questioned you suspiciously, “Are you nervous?”

You lied once more while waiting for him to remove his clothing. “No, of course, not,” you said. When he removed his boxer, you could have practically felt the chills beneath you. You had everything you had on the floor. “It's just cold in here.”

“Trust me, you'll feel warm very soon,” said Dean confidently. His tone had hints of dedication.

You shifted slightly beneath him to find a more comfortable position. Luckily, there was plenty of room in the coach. You put your hands on Dean's back, feeling his hardness on your stomach, and you waited for him to do something already. Though plainly aroused and moist, you were still a little anxious. You

didn't want to come seem as inexperienced, though. You wished for this to keep going.

“I do trust you.” That was true at least.

Dean believed you.

While you waited, he took his cock and gave himself two or three strokes. Witnessing him stroking himself got you even more aroused.

Dean positioned himself on your entrance, making you tense up a little, then brushed his hard cock on your clit after making sure you were both ready. But you were determined to see it through to the end. It was almost like a chance to win him over in a romantic way. Maybe.

He pressed the tip of his cock, and you laid your hands on his back and nailed him like crazy. He was able to slide inside you very easily because of how wet you were, yet it was still uncomfortable and painful.

You bit your lip to suppress your agonizing groans and not to make him stop, so as not to seem like a wounded animal or anything.

Dean groaned over you, “Fuck, you are really tight,” pausing just before pulling away. It was difficult for him to fit inside completely.

You whispered to him, embarrassed, “Sorry,” attempting to calm down and let him in.

“Just relax,” Dean said, taking another position. You nodded to him quickly.

He again pushed his cock inside of you. This time, your pussy was around him tightly, drawing him within. He let out a sigh of delight at that. Your eyes welled up with tears as he withdrew and used a forceful motion to push himself forward. It was as though he was slicing you in two. Thankfully, he was unaware that a few tears had trickled down from your eyes onto the coach. However, you were unable to cease whimpering in pain.

Dean sensed when you were ready and gave himself a single, full thrust. You nailed his belly and back and moaned in agony this time because of his harsh moment.

You were no longer a virgin while you were lying beneath him. Even though the man you loved was unaware that you had given him something unique, you knew that no matter what happened, you would never regret it.

“Are you okay?” Dean asked. He could not believe how tight you were. Your walls were drawing him in, constricting around him all the while. If he was less experienced, he would have come inside you as soon as he entered your pussy.

“I am,” you urged him to continue, your voice quivering. “Just give me a moment, please.”

Dean gave you a kiss to help you relax. He saw that you were a bit anxious and that you needed to wet yourself a little more before you could handle him. He was sure sloppy kisses would be helpful.

Dean stepped back after a while and questioned, “Are you ready now?” You were clenching around him, and his patience was getting thin.

You nodded to him, and Dean retreated and pushed inside again without waiting another moment. The way he fucked you was rough and painful for you. You didn't complain though, even if it was hard to get used to his size and pace in such a short amount of time. He moved slowly at first, but as you got wetter beneath him, he accelerated his pace.

Dean moaned, “You're taking me so well,” while fucking you in a rough way. His delighted tone and praises made your heart sing. “I like how tight you are.”

You only said, "For you." His compliments caused the anguish to become joy, and this time you didn't suppress your moans. You had no idea that you would enjoy this so much.

“Oh yeah?” he said, teasing as he whispered into your neck, picking up speed. “You sound so sweet. Do you like the way I fuck you? I should have fucked your lovely tight cunt sooner.”

Your face turned red the moment he spoke dirty words into your ear. They were about how much he liked fucking you everything else. The whole room was filled with sloppy and obscene sounds that made you blush with shyness. You were becoming even more excited at the sound of his heavy balls hitting your pussy. You began to tighten up around him. Although you were trying to hold back to extend the moment, you were getting close.

“This won't take long,” he groaned, getting his fingers tense around your flesh. It was difficult for Dean to control himself. You were tightening around him, whimpering beneath him. “Come to me. Come now!”

When Dean moved around a little inside of you, he started to fuck you harder and find your sensitive spot. With a groan, “Take it. Come on,” he said, fucking you senseless.

You reached your climax and clenched him with his name on your lips as your screams became louder and you were unable to contain yourself any longer. Dean proceeded to fuck you throughout your climax by lifting your hips and drawing his body to you in order to receive more pleasure. You believed you might come again right there since your pussy was throbbing so much.

After Dean made sure you rode your orgasm, he let out a deep grumble, pulled out his cock in between your startled gasps, and began to stroke himself. You became excited by his stroking himself on top of you, even though you had just rode your climax.

When Dean began to empty himself on your thigh and stomach, you jumped. You waited for him to empty himself as you saw him spill his hot white ropes all over your body. You glared in shock as you watched him riding his pleasure.

You were no longer a virgin there, under him. It had happened. You were aware that he was only a friend and that the situation was really a bit awkward. You waited for remorse to surface, thinking that nothing would change with him, but it didn't. You didn't feel any sign of regret. Giving something unique to a loved one, even if it held no significance for them, was never wrong. After all, love was generous, and it always needed to consume the untouched places of your body and spirit.

With a low grunt, Dean moved your bodies on the coach and, to your astonishment, embraced you. It was obvious that he was satisfied. Dean grabbed the blanket that was hanging from the coach's corner and laid it over your bodies. You trembled as the heat took the place of the cold. You simply drew nearer to him to enjoy the moment because you had no idea what to do. You pondered whether this would occur once again.

Jokingly, you said, “What now?” Still, a lot of questions raced through your head.

Dean sighed and said, “It's pretty late and seems like the rain won't stop any soon, so let's sleep.” You remained silent regarding what had transpired.

Saying, “Okay,” you leaned into his embrace and made an effort to keep as close to him as you could. The thrill you had just had began to gradually fade away, leaving you alone yourself with despair and sadness.

Dean remarked, “By the way,” before he closed his eyes. “Let's not talk about this to Sam or someone else, alright?” Though gentle and soothing, his words were sharp and cut you through.

You said, “Sure,” immediately away. “Of course not.”

As though nothing had occurred and you weren't naked in each other's arms, you told each other good night. Although it was awkward, you made the choice. When you made the decision to go all the way with him, you knew that was what would happen.

You got out of bed before Dean did, picked up your clothes from the floor, and headed to the bathroom for a long shower. Whatever is done is done. It was irreversible; you convinced yourself. Nothing was a regret for you. You were relieved that it only happened with Dean. It was the appropriate decision for you to keep the details from him. He wasn't made to feel oppressed by you or anything. This would ruin the friendship and also ruin you.

Dean also woke up, and you two didn't chat much after that. You felt a little uncomfortable, but as soon as Dean returned to his lighthearted demeanor, you felt at ease and acted naturally. When you saw he didn't put distance between you, you felt relaxed.

That's how three weeks went by. Everything was well.

Following a disastrous hunt that left Sam with an arm injury, you enter their home and assist Sam in taking care of his arm. The hunt this time was challenging, and you were distracted.

Sam was giving you and Dean one of his puppy looks. You felt terrible.

With remorse, you murmured, “I'm sorry, Sam.” He injured his harm in order to protect you, yet he didn't blame you for anything. You have probably never met someone as kind as he was.

He said, “It's okay,” and made an agonizing moan as you carefully cleansed his arm.

Dean snapped, “It's not,” in a harsh voice. He was across the room, observing Sam and you. He had his fists crossed over his chest, obviously frustrated with the current state of things. After all, Sam was his brother. “There, you should have been careful. Sam could have hurt badly because of you.”

“I know,” you said, panicked. “You are right.”

“I don't think so,” Dean stated sharply, glancing at Sam's injured arm. “You've been distracted for a while. I attempted to ignore it and hide the mistakes you made, but today they could end up killing Sam.”

Your pulse raced, and you felt guilty as you proceeded to handle Sam's arm carefully. As he persisted in blaming you, you found it difficult to contain your emotions.

“It won't happen again,” you stated in a tremulous tone while keeping your gaze on Sam's arm.

“It's alright. Dean, please stop being so grumpy,” Sam eventually pleaded in an insistent voice.

“You shut up,” Dean said, gesturing to Sam as if he were a little child. In fact, you were aware that he remained a child in Dean's eyes.

As you began to wrap a white cloth around Sam's injured arm, he groaned and pressed his groan back. “You're being annoying right now,” he said.

“I'm going to be more annoying if you two keep acting like this, you know.”

You said, “I'm really sorry,” and you gave Dean and Sam sincere looks. “It really won't happen again.”

Dean nodded at you quickly and sighed. However, it was clear that he was frustrated with you. “He's all I have.”

“I know.”

You and Sam didn't say anything further about what had transpired. Thankfully, despite his curious and suspicious stare, he remained silent. To get better, you had to gather yourself. But it was challenging. You questioned whether being near Dean worked as a deterrent for him to stay away from you.

A week went by, and Dean came home with a blonde woman by his side as you and Sam were spending the night in the house eating pies and watching a movie.

Jealousy took over you, but you smiled and greeted them instead of pulling a grouchy face and making a scene. Dean's hookups and lovers became routine to you. The things that had happened weeks ago weren't important, even if it was hard to admit. Not a word about it was spoken.

Last several days, Dean had been annoyed, but when he kissed the blonde, he was a completely different person. Happier, more relaxed. Though your heart was pounding from pain and suffering, your gaze remained riveted on the TV. It was pathetic how much you wanted to be her. It was a hard swallow.

When she, Dean, or Sam told you something, you smiled and engaged in conversation so as not to arouse suspicion. They eventually made their way to Dean's room, and this is when your eyes started to well up with tears. You were unable to stop it. You uttered a little sound as your heart gripped with so much agony and suffering. You had no idea why. It might all have been different, but it wasn't.

Sam saw your eyes become wetter in the light, and he gave you a dubious look, but none of you said anything.

You longed to travel back in time as soon as you heard it began to rain outside. This time, you weren't fond of the rain or how it felt.

Next Chapter

A/N: I hope you like it. Let me know what you think, please. ^^

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auraworkshop · 11 months ago

Text

VOID SUCCESS STORY

I Finally Experienced The Void State

HOW I USED TO VIEW VOID BEFORE I ENTERED

Before I entered it, I viewed the void as the ultimate state of oneness with the universe. I viewed it as the place where I could finally be free from all suffering and limitation. It was a place where I could be at peace and experience the ultimate reality. I also viewed it as a place that was beyond anything I could imagine or describe. It was the place I was drawn to and wanted to experience more than anything else in the world. It was where I knew I could find the ultimate truth and the ultimate peace and bliss.

I was never a fond of it, I just and wanted to feel it, experience it by myself. I don't understand why it's so hyped up after all.

HOW I TAPPED IN

I tapped in by listening to my subliminal. Before putting on the sub I did a special, ancient breathing technique :

Bhastrika or the bellows breath

For this you have to Close the right nostril and inhale twenty rapid bellows-like breaths through the left nostril. Repeat with twenty more bellows breaths through the right nostril while keeping the left nostril closed. Proceed to take twenty bellows breaths through both nostrils. This method helps the body and mind to clear out mental, emotional and physical blocks.

After doing this, I put on my subliminal and a blind fold on my eyes and imagined myself walking inside my own mind and it's getting darker and darker as I get deeper into it, exactly like Eleven did in Stranger Things. Okay, so doing this made me super duperr relaxed which got me slept and when I woke up I knew that I made it! and NO, my void was not pitch dark, I don't know but for some reason it was white, pure white. I felt like I'm directly looking into a bulb you know :)

MY EXPERIENCE WITH IT

My void experience was a feeling of emptiness and peace. Not a single thing was there in the void other than my consciousness. I felt completely liberated and at ease when I was in the void. My thoughts were dead silent and I was just being. I felt a deep sense of connection to the universe and a knowing that all is well. It was a feeling of emptiness and unity at the same time. Everything that is, is within me. It can not be described because it is beyond any description. No words and no labels can truly define or grasp the eternal silence of the void. The void I experienced was full of utter peace and stillness. It was the complete lack of self-consciousness and the total realization of eternity. It was pure, uninterrupted consciousness. It was a place of pure awareness and complete freedom from all attachments and desires. It was a place of absolute silence and the absence of all thought and emotion. It was a place of complete and utter bliss and nothingness at the same time. I felt a deep sense of timelessness and immortality. I felt like I was in my purest form. I felt like I was in a state of total nirvana and perfect happiness. It was like being in a state of pure bliss and complete oneness with the universe. I felt connected to everything and everyone, and it was the most pure and peaceful experience I've ever had. However I have entered the void twice but snapped out on incident within seconds. Staying in the void for hours is totally different :)

MY EXPERIENCE WITH THE VOID IS JUST UNDESCRIBABLE 🤍

I really don't know how to put it into words

I just feel COMPLETED now !

WHAT I MANIFESTED

No, I didn't manifest anything in the void. Manifesting something through the void was never my intention because I already have manifested almost everything just by listening to my subliminals and I love listening to them. But if in future if I'll manifest anything in the void, I'll update y'all about it for sure with pictures.

Believe me or not the void is unnecessarily so hyped up in this community, it's so easy to access it. Now with my experience with it I know how I can be helpful to y'all in regards of accessing the void state.

I know people will ask me for the subliminal that I listened to, so first of all I made it myself, because few days back while I was on my journey to entering the void I listened to a subliminal, which made everything worse, I knew that the subliminal maker has used some bad spells in it, so I made my own sub. No wonders tho because earlier I used to make subliminals for myself and they did worked for me and I manifested a lot of things but I was so lazy that I stopped making them :)

But as I really wanted to experience the void within myself, I decided to work a Lil hard and make a sub for myself and after researching deeply on how I can make subliminal work faster, I managed to made it myself.

I have posted it on my YouTube channel but remember my sub will not work for those who have bad intentions! ThankYou.

Here's the video :

Enter the void in the blink of an eye : Use w/ caution

youtube

Make sure to hit the subscribe button because I'll be uploading more such subliminals ! 🤍

#Youtube #void #void state #void success #void state success story #loa #loassumption #law of assumption #sammy ingram #affirm and persist #the void #shifting methods

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vrystalius · 2 months ago

Note

Hello so i have been craving angst then fluff so can you write scenarios with the uppermoons x reader, after a huge argument that ended up with the reader walking away from the fight then locking herself in their shared bedroom,and when they come back after duties they find out that she cried herself to sleep with her tear stained and red cheeks, she wakes up and they make up then cuddle (The argument is huge but they are both at fault and they are both right it's just different point of view since they are demons and she is a human).

Arguments with the Upper moons

You and your s/o had a huge argument wich caused you to leave and later cry yourself to sleep. How will they react?

Pairing: Kokushibo, Douma, Akaza, Gyutaro x reader

(Gyutaro doing his usual scratching on himself in his part, toxic-ish relationship in his part as well, angst in every part)

Kokushibo

Your arguments are mostly about how emotionally unavailable he is and how much Kokushibo refuses to speak about his feelings. He never elaborates on what he is thinking right now or what he truly thinks of you, this relationship and his feelings for you. You know that Kokushibo is mediating when he is not training, meaning he has plenty of time to think. Why is he never sharing his feelings? You always voice out loud how much you appreciate and love your husband, but he never tells you the same things. Only occasional dry “I love you’s” and some “I appreciate your presence’s”.

You try to tell Kokushibo about how you want to hear more from him and what he truly thinks of you. Sometimes, you feel like he doesn’t love you at all with the way he acts so coldly around you.

Kokushibo’s voice is stern and condescending while arguing with you. He only states the most obvious things and still doesn’t admit his true feelings towards you. This makes your heart ache even more than before. Seeing the tears form in the corners of your eyes made him scoff quietly.

“Why are you crying now? Did I hurt your “feelings”?”

That last comment made a wave of nausea wash over your whole body. Before you let yourself throw up onto his feet, you quickly rushed into your shared bedroom to hide your crying face.

You ignored Kokushibo’s demands to open up the bedroom door for almost one hour until Muzan finally ordered a meeting with him. Tears continue to stream down your face as you curled up into a small ball below the sheets. Your bed felt eerily empty without your husband beside you, but right now, you don’t want him here. You didn’t know exactly when you fell asleep, but you woke up by cold fingers brushing against your now dry cheeks.

After you opened your eyes, you were met with the sight of Kokushibo kneeling beside you and gently caressing your cheeks. His bottom and upper eyes were closed. It was his unique way to show that he feels safe and relaxed around you. You noticed the soft look in his eyes and the gentleness in his touch.

“I… I should apologise for my words I spoke to you earlier. I did not mean to hurt you in any way.”

Kokushibo’s voice was deep and soothing. You could hear how hesitant he was about speaking like this. He barely ever shows his vulnerable side to you and insists to keep his guard up at all times. That is one of the many things why you two argue so much. He spend the last 500 years to perfect his fighting style and whole being. Even during his human years he forgot his own humanity, but around you, his emotions try to resurface. Your influence and affection make him softer, and in his opinion, weak. He does not want you to see him as weak, but that he is strong, powerful and a perfect being.

“Could you forgive me for acting so harshly? I do truly love you and I’d like to prove it to you.”

Douma

Douma’s lack of understanding of emotions cause a lot of arguments between you two. He continues to dismiss your feelings as just some silly moods you tend to have and never takes them seriously. Douma is listening to his follower’s woes all day every day, but he does not really pay attention to their words. He mostly zones out and then offers some loose advice based on some words he picked up while they continue to talk and talk and talk. He does the same thing with you.

When you try to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma has his meals in your shared bedroom and leaves behind a bloody mess and even some bodyparts. It’s disgusting, especially to you, who is a human. But all he hears is that he should send in a follower to clean your chambers after his meals. This was not the problem you were trying to solve, you were trying to tell him that you don’t like it when Douma eats humans in your bedroom, yet he doesn’t listen.

That isn’t even the most infuriating part. Besides him not listening to your thoughts, he sometimes mocks you for feeling emotional about it. It may be unintentional, but when you start crying during an argument, Douma sometimes giggles at your expression. It’s humiliating how hilarious he finds your crying face and in return it made you incredibly mad at him. Wich also makes him grin.

Yes, Douma may not grasp the concept of emotions, but you wished that he doesn’t dismiss them that easily.

During one of your arguments, you were trying to tell him about how you didn’t like how he disregards your emotions so easily.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do? You’re a silly human after all, your emotions are very entertaining to me!”

After Douma finished his sentence, you slapped your hand across his face as hard as you could. You knew that he will barely even feel it tickle his skin, but you wanted to demonstrate how infuriated you are with him. While your husband was trying to understand what exactly just happened to him, you already stormed off to your shared bedroom and made sure to properly lock the door. Additionally, you opened the blinds all the way and let the sun in to make sure that damn demon stays away from you for the time being. You cannot stand to see his smirking face right now.

You didn’t even notice that you started crying. There was only hoping that Douma didn’t see your tears running down your cheeks, or else he will mock you about those too, just like he does with every other emotion you have.

You fell asleep while watching the sun disappear behind the mountains and with a pillow between your arms. Long after you fell asleep, someone started slipping the pillow out of your arms and sneakily replaced it with their own body. You tried to escape out of Douma’s arms, but his grip was tighter. His face was uncharacteristically and eerily neutral, not showing any emotions right now.

“I don’t really get emotions, you know? They’re always been foreign to me.”

His voice sounded distant and detached. Who is this man that is cuddling you right now? You kept staring at his face while he spoke.

“I never really felt them. They just weren’t there then I was born. I saw them on other people’s faces and had to learn manually what they meant.”

Douma’s cold fingers slowly brushed through your hair as he leaned forward to place a kiss on your forehead. He remained in this position while he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry if I insulted you. I never meant it. You just confuse me with your emotions sometimes, but you also…kind of… make me imagine? I’m not sure. Perhaps I’m trying to talk myself into feeling something, but when you’re around me, I feel something close to happiness. Or whatever that emotion is that I’m feeling.”

His eyes soften up slightly while speaking. You can’t help but smile a little at his words.

“But hey, you stopped resisting my cuddles~ does that mean I’m allowed back into bed? Would you be a sweetheart and close the blinds? You don’t wanna wake up next to a pile of ash, right?”

Akaza

“Stop worrying” and “toughen up” are things you hear almost every day from Akaza. He hates the weak and any sign of weakness, and since you are a human, weakness and vulnerability is a rather big part of you when you compare yourself to a demon like him. You can’t help but not being able to ignore the look he gives you everytime you either hesitate about something or try to explain your feelings to him. His eyebrows furrow together and his eyes have this look of disdain in them. His jaw clenches and you can see the veins pop out a little. That look alone, intentional or not, makes you shut up quickly.

You never heard him say “I love you” to you before, ever. You tried asking him about it but all that resulted in him coming up with some weak excuse. All you wanted is for Akaza to tell you if he does really love or if he is just staying by your side for his own entertainment or pleasure. You just want him to say “I love you” at least once and admit his feelings to you, but he stubbornly refuses.

Akaza was trying to contain his anger inside him while you were talking about exactly that. His fists were clenched and his eyes were glued to a spot on the floor. Until suddenly, he slammed his fist against the wall, shattering the wood beneath it, making you jump away.

“Why do you have to be so weak? All this crying and fucking feelings, they make you fucking pathetic and weak. I’m trying to protect you and you’re too blind to see it. I’m starting to think that protecting you was a waste of my time after all.”

Those words shattered your heart in an instant. Maybe he was right. Maybe you are just a waste of time to him, he has better things to do after all. He wants to become the strongest demon after all. This is the end of you two, isn’t it? You didn’t want Akaza to see your crying face and think even less of you, if that’s even possible, so you ran away into your bedroom and hid beneath the covers as if those will shield you from him and the rest of the world around you.

Tears ran down your face silently while you slowly fell asleep, but you woke up rapidly when you felt strong arms wrap incredibly tight around you. Your heart almost stopped in fear when you felt the familiar aura tightly pressing up against you, but you couldn’t help but begin to melt into his arms.

Akaza never was good with words. The words he uses are mostly intentionally and unintentionally used go hurt others, wich includes you. You felt how he buried his face into your neck and silently savoured your smell. His rough palms were gently rubbing up and down your waist, almost a little desperate to feel your skin again. He lifted his face from your neck and rested it right beside your head. His thick fingers carefully brushed through your hair.

“I should say it. You deserve it.”

You turned your head over to face him. You noticed freshly healed skin on his knuckles and all over his hands, leaving little room to guess what exactly he was doing while you slept. A nervous frown started appeared on his face. Akaza took a very deep breath before you listened to his shaky voice.

“I like you. A-A lot. Lots. Well, I-I really… uhm… Love you…I love you.”

Gyutaro

He always has been jealous, and always will be. Gyutato fears that you are going to leave him at any time and any day. That makes him incredibly clingy and protective of you and he refuses to leave your side, ever. He follows you around everywhere and tries to hover around you at all possible times. You had to convince that demon that you are perfectly capable to use the bathroom on your own without him needing yo stand right beside you. But after you finished up and left, you found Gyutaro crouched down beside the bathroom door, waiting and listening in case something somehow happens to you.

It’s incredibly tiring to have to be so careful around him. You fear that if you stray too far from him or disappear from his sight for too long that Gyutaro might start either slashing humans out of frustration or start scratching himself again. It’s mentally extremely weighing onto you. You tried to tell Daki about her brother and how stressed he’s making you feel, but she obviously takes Gyutaro’s side and shifts the issue back onto you.

“Well have you ever considered that my brother is just being very loving, hm? You better appreciate it you ungrateful human.”

Daki’s words did certainly not help you feel any better. She of course told her brother about you confiding in her, wich made Gyutaro almost seethe in jealousy and anger. That same night, you two had the worst argument yet.

You tried to tell him how suffocating he is while he is accusing you of not loving such a like creature like him. Your attempts at telling him how much you actually love and cherish him failed.

"No matter what you say or do, I-I’ll never be good enough for you...! You’re just pr-pretending to love me because you feel sorry for me…Deep down, you think I’m ugly, dirty and disgusting…”

The gut-wrenching sound of Gyutaro scratching his own skin open filled the silence as you stared at him. Gods, you had enough. You’re too exhausted to fight against his insecurities right now, so instead of continuing this useless argument, you stormed off into your private bedroom. After turning your back to him, you heard his nails tear through his own flesh and bones incredibly slowly and agonisingly.

You laid down on top of your large bed and faced away from the door, trying not to think about his words or the sound of Gyutaro’s blood gushing out of his flesh wounds. You were so concentrated on trying to think about anything else that you didn’t notice how you slipped into a deep slumber. You only woke up to the sound of bones cracking and crushing together.

Lifting your head, you scanned the space on the bed beside you. Empty. As you sat upright, you managed to glance over the edge of the bed, spotting Gyutaro being curled together on the floor. He looked like a very unnaturally bend puppy that wasn’t allowed to sleep on the bed. After calling out to him, he silently lifted his head to look at you.

Even looking at him caused a wave of nausea and guilt wash over you. Not a single inch of his skin was left unharmed by his own doing, and he seemingly refused to let them heal. His blood started to soak the carpet beneath him. Gyutaro slowly started to sit back upright, his spine cracking and breaking.

“Mh… mrrm.. am I-I allowed.. to la-lay beside you?”

💠

This took me multiple days to write so it may feel a little off. I loved writing this so much!! I always read the comments and reblogs, so don’t be shy to leave any! I appreciate every single one of you and the love you leave behind on my posts <3 I am currently working through my inbox, so expect more asks to be published over the week.

Anyways, make sure to EAT, SLEEP and DRINK enough!!

Take care of yourselves <33

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