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gotta-winwin · 7 months ago

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(🪽) ... to the stars

⭐ starring: jeonghan

🪽preview: “I love you, angel.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against your lips when you finally found the courage to let him go. He hesitated, face inches from yours, as if he was debating whether or not to go in for a second kiss. He retracted in the end, standing up straight and grabbing his various bags. He knew that if he kissed you a second time, he’d lose all self control and you’d end up in bed with your clothes off, and him, very late.

“I’ll be back soon!” He called as he entered the car, a smiling Seungcheol waving to you as he helped Jeonghan bring his bags in. “Don’t die because you miss me too much!”

The last thing you see before they drive off is Jeonghan’s dazzling smile, his shining eyes and his clean cut hair.

tw/cw: talk of the "e" word, oral f!receiving, manhandling, surprise sex, jeonghan gets buff after training, mention of female + male parts, jeonghan goes kinda feral, overstim!

🪽rating: 18+ | word count: 2.1k

☁️ masterlist & a/n: i really can't believe it's only been two months since jeonghan enlisted it feels like FOREVER and WAY TOO LONG. also - first try at full on smut so...was giggling while writing this i had way too much fun. let me know how ya'll feel! smut starts in ch 4

MINORS DNI

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(🪽)

The dreaded “e-word” has haunted both you and Jeonghan since the start of your relationship. The stupid prospect of enlistment gnawed at both your insides, like an impending doomsday clock - ticking, ticking away at your time together.

Maybe you were being dramatic - but if tour was painful for the two of you, enlistment would surely kill.

“At least one good thing came out of me injuring my shoulder.” Jeonghan quipped, stretching lazily over your legs as you laid in bed. “I’ll be on duty, but I get to go home every night.” He stared up at you with playful eyes. “It’ll basically be a nine to five, after my basic training is complete.”

Returning the playful look, you scrunched your nose, relishing the last few days with him next to you. “I guess.” You hummed, reaching a hand to run your fingers through his long hair. You’d be seeing his precious locks go tomorrow, and the loss felt like losing a baby. You had basically raised his perfect, luscious hair yourself - a handful of his hair products being yours. You’d miss picking out his monthly hair colors as well. (Red hair Jeonghan was by far still your greatest achievement).

“Don’t be sad, angel.” He closed his eyes as you massaged his hair, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. “It’s not like I’m leaving forever.”

“You’re not very upset about it.” You pouted, feeling slighted by the way he seemed so unbothered. “You must think you’re not going to miss me very much, Hannie.” Your tone was teasing and light, although the insecurity was very much real.

“I am going to miss you.” He admitted, squinting open an eye to look at you. “Don’t twist my words.”

Jeonghan fell silent when you didn’t reply, hands still absentmindedly threading themselves through his hair. He watched you with careful eyes, knowing your nerves were frayed from enlistment stress. More like the absence of Jeonghan stress, he thought bitterly. He hated leaving you as much as you hated him leaving.

“You should just move in.”

Your next words caught him off guard as he looked up at you, blinking. It was rare to catch Jeonghan speechless. Usually equipped with witty comebacks, Jeonghan’s silence worried you as you sat up straight, moving him off your lap. “It’s just an idea.” Your voice shrank, knowing it was a big move. You hadn’t been dating for very long - two years - but still, not long enough to guarantee a move in.

Having been nudged off your legs, Jeonghan sat up. “You think I should?” He asked, grabbing your hand and enveloping it in his.

You nodded.

“I guess it makes sense.” He had a coy smile on his face as he inwardly cooed at your shyness. “Then I’ll get to see your pretty face everyday instead of Seungkwan.”

“A much better upgrade.” You quipped at the younger boy’s expense, nodding along, big question jitters disappearing. “And half of your stuff is already here anyways.”

“I love you.” He suddenly blurted out, although it sounded so beautifully normal and welcomed. His ears turned red, having not expected himself to say what he was thinking out loud.

“I love you too, Hannie.”

(🪽🪽)

“If you mess up my hair I’m leaving you.”

Frowning extra hard at his words, you steadied yourself, clippers at the ready as you analyzed his black locks. “If you don’t trust me you should’ve gone to your stylist.” You chided, pushing back a mop of his hair - rather roughly in retaliation.

Whining, he glared at you through the mirror. “Brute.” He mumbled under his breath, a little apprehensive about agitating you further. You were the one with the clippers, after all.

“Stop glaring at me or I’ll render you bald.” You threatened, eyeing him in challenge, the clippers in your hand coming to life as you began. “Hold still.”

There was something strangely emotional about the whole process, as you watched tufts of Jeonghan’s hair fall to the ground around you. At least he didn’t have to get it super short - you really might have cried then - although the ceremonious feeling of it all still brought unwanted tears to your eyes.

“It’ll grow back.” His quiet voice reminded you, pouting when he saw your glistening eyes and the way you were staring at his hair. “It’s not permanent.”

“I know.” You mumbled, running your hands through his now short hair, more tears threatening to spill over when it just didn’t feel the same as before. “Let me mourn.”

He laughed, although you saw him staring at himself in the mirror, his own eyes melancholic and equally wet. “Sometimes I think you’re only dating me for my hair.”

Pursuing your lips, you bit back a smile. “It’s definitely a plus.”

(🪽🪽🪽)

You had always hated long goodbyes.

They seemed too fruitless, so unnecessary and awkward to execute. You had always been a strong believer of a quick wave, a brief hug, or perhaps a quick exchange of pleasantries.

However, once it was time to say goodbye to Jeonghan as he stood, packed and ready for his mandatory training camp, you wished goodbyes could last forever.

“You’re going to have to let me go someday.” Jeonghan’s voice was muffled as he spoke through your hair.

Your hold around him only tightened at his words, arms looping firmly around his neck. You inhaled, breathing him in - the light scent of pomegranates and the ocean tide. “Please don’t go.” It sounded pathetic, the way your voice broke near the end, but a part of you felt like maybe he wasn’t going to come back. Stupid. You chided yourself. Of course he’ll come back.

“You’re going to make me cry.” Jeonghan mumbled, pulling you into him tighter - although it was nearly impossible, with the way you were already pressed up against him. He bit the insides of his cheek, holding back the tears because he knew someone had to keep it together during this goodbye - and it wasn’t going to be you. Burrowing his face deeper into your nape, he wished selfishly there was a way for him not to leave. Holding you tighter, he knew that if there was a way to crawl inside you and live there - he would. “I’ll write to you.” He promised.

It was a silly idea with the existence of technology, but Jeonghan was adamant to hand write his letters while serving - something about it being more personable. It’ll give you something to look forward to, he explained, although you told him that him coming home was enough. The letters were just as sweet though.

“I love you, angel.” He whispered, pressing a light kiss against your lips when you finally found the courage to let him go. He hesitated, face inches from yours, as if he was debating whether or not to go in for a second kiss. He retracted in the end, standing up straight and grabbing his various bags. He knew that if he kissed you a second time, he’d lose all self control and you’d end up in bed with your clothes off, and him, very late.

“I’ll be back soon!” He called as he entered the car, a smiling Seungcheol waving to you as he helped Jeonghan bring his bags in. “Don’t die because you miss me too much!”

The last thing you see before they drive off is Jeonghan’s dazzling smile, his shining eyes and his clean cut hair.

(🪽🪽🪽🪽)

You would have compared him to a feral animal - the way he pounced on you upon his arrival home.

“I missed you so fucking much, angel.” He groaned, arms pulling you against him without warning, giving you no time to register his appearance.

“Hannie.” His name came out as more of a moan as his fingers dipped, drifting towards the band of your sweats and delving under. “When- when did you get home?”

“Got to leave earlier than expected.” He mumbled against your neck, thoroughly distracted by the way you were softening under his grasp. He had forgotten how beautiful you looked, falling apart at his fingertips. “Been waiting.” He gasped out, pulling your hair so his lips could meet yours. “No idea how much I missed you.”

“Hannie.” His name was all you could say, all you could even think about. His every being enveloped your senses as you felt your back press up against the hallway wall. “Hannie.”

“Yes, angel?” He dipped to his knees, gazing up at you with the coy smile you had missed so much. “Tell me what you want.”

“You, Hannie.” You whined, and you knew it was embarrassing how fast you were complying. “Want - need you.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, holding you by your thighs and pulling your sweats and underwear off in one fluid motion. You didn’t miss the tiny whimper that fell quietly from his lips - finally face to face with the sweet pussy he had dreamed of each night after training. It had tortured him, not being able to feel you, to hold you, to see you. Military training had taught him a lot of things - although the greatest lesson he took away was how much of a privilege you were. Losing access to both you and the pussy that always took him so well had been maddening.

He paused, smirking when you bucked into his hand, impatient.

“Hurry up, Hannie.” You scolded, half annoyed but mostly pleading. “Hannie.”

As if the repeat of his name had woken him up from the daze he had found himself under - some spell, Jeonghan glanced up at you with hooded eyes before diving in, tongue working against your folds. It was obscene, the wet sounds coming from you, mixed with his pants and muffled groans. He all but buried himself into your heat - fulfilling his wish of crawling inside of you - in the most perverted yet terribly arousing way.

The sounds of both satisfaction and pleasure coming from you only spurred him on, eating you out with one goal in mind: to make you finish, to finally drown himself in your scent after two long weeks without you next to him.

“Fuck- Hannie.” The only coherent words falling from your lips was a long string of curses, followed by a loud whine of his name. “I’m gonna - fuck.”

You felt the mess before you saw it, as you gripped his hair for leverage, legs shaking as you steadied yourself against the wall. A gush of release spurted from you, coating his face as he lapped, unbothered by the slick.

“Hannie -” Legs shaking, threatening to collapse, you pushed at his head. “Too much-”

It was like he was trying to devour you whole.

“Hannie-” You cried out, cumming again - a visceral reaction from the amount of attention his tongue was giving to your cunt and the constant stimulations from his nose bumping against your clit.

He finally looked up as he drank the last drops of juice from your pussy, eyes shining in satisfaction as he smirked up at you. “Did you miss me?”

You were glad his cockiness had not escaped him during his military training. Tugging harshly at his hair, you all but collapsed into his arms, pressing a feathery light kiss against the side of his neck. “You beast.” You mumbled, earning a loud laugh from him as he moved you both to the living room, wiping his face with a cloth before coming to clean you.

It was then that you finally got to get a good look at him. You laid on the couch, eyes following his every movement as he wiped in between your legs with his usual gentle and care.

He was built. Stronger, somehow broader and more defined then you remembered him being. His shoulders and arms flexed as he worked, and you caught a sight of his carved thighs and the damp tent in his pants as he stood up, leaving to throw the now sullied cloth away.

“Hannie?” You called after him, feeling your desire return just by the glimpses of his new physique.

“Yes, angel?” His head poked out from the doorway, returning next to you as he lay down, once again situating himself in between your legs. His nose bumped against yours as he looked at you with gentle, loving eyes - a straight contrast to the callouses, rough hands that were now roaming your chest.

“What did mandatory training do to you?” You asked, running a hand down his arm and squeezing his bicep. “Did they like- make you pull cars or something?”

His hands went self-consciously to grab his own biceps, a large hand covering yours as he blushed. “No, it was just a lot of working out.” He smiled, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “What? You like what you see?”

“Very, very much.” You admitted, liking how he basked under the praise. “Not that I didn’t like your body before- but this is…” You paused, trying to find the right word to describe the delectable human being sitting in front of you that you knew could ruin you on a whole nother level. “Different.”

Jeonghan smirked. “If you think this is different, you should see what’s under my clothes, angel.”

masterlist

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pet-slut-chrissy · 7 months ago

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I knew I was in trouble, I disobeyed my Mistress @owner-of-pet-slut-chrissy because I was thinking with my cunt instead of my head again. I was on no-touch denial but when She was telling me what She was planning for a playtime I started rubbing myself almost as a reflex.. oh no I realized a second too late but She was smiling hugely

I started getting ready as She finished a couple of phone calls.. I put on my new latex maids outfit fishnets and my highest heels, then the lush and ben wa balls. I got to choose a gag, I went with the ring gag because it is more comfortable.. As I was getting the anal hook ready She stopped me and said because I had disobeyed Her I was to put ginger paste on the hook. Ohhhh I knew how hot that would be but I did it without whining, and then a knotted crutch rope was tied securing everything in. But when She got the harsh nipple clamps and said they were going on my pussy lips I almost panicked.. however one stern look from Her told me there was no choice, it was my punishment.

We set the hitachi wand leaning over the back of a sofa, then tied bungee cords from the ceiling hook to the anal hook and bungee cord to crotch rope so they would both pulling tight if I tried to press myself against the wand. Then the fun started.. with the wand on high I begged to push hard against the wand, and She allowed then started asking me questions, how much of a slut I was, how filthy I was was, what I would do for an orgasm I found myself humping the wand the cords pulling the hook deep and crutch rope tight. Every time I got close and begged to cum She turned the wand off.

After several cycles of this I was completely frustrated and desperate.. Mistress said She wanted to know how much of a slut I really was, that She was going to cuff my hands behind my back and push me against the wand for 12 minutes. She wanted exactly 5 orgasms from me during the 12 minutes, any more or any less and I would be punished and I had to scream my thank you to Her after each one which I knew would have Me drooling over my breasts. Click the timer lock was secured and the timer started.. I kept my cunt pressed tight against the wand, the hook and rope pulling so tight and intense that I had my first orgasm almost immediately.. I will admit I cheated a little, I could see the clock and try to pace myself as I kept pressing and had 2 3 4 and finally my 5th orgasm right before the time was up..

I immediately thanked Mistress for my 5 treats through my ring gag then begged Her to let me off the wand, She said no and asked me what I was, as I was humping the wand I blurted out that I was a slut.. She was close too, She said prove it, cum for Her and then we both exploded at the same moment! mmm I was trembling when She finally eased me off the wand and took the clamps off my pussy lips omg! Don’t touch She ordered!! It took all my self control but I didn’t. As we talked about the session and how much we both loved it She kept having me pulling on the hook and rope. She asked if I might like a bonus cum and of course I said yes.. a few more minutes of teasing tugging and pressing against the wand and we came again. I’m sometimes embarrassed by how much of a slut I am, but only Mistress knows all my darkest and nastiest secrets. I am so grateful to be collared and Owned by Her!

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spinecouture · 5 months ago

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nsfw alphabet — daryl dixon

a/n: all canon events cus i say so! very opinionated. yes, i am insane.

a = aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

daryl isn’t exactly warm and cuddly. aftercare doesn’t come naturally to him. the first time you have sex, and you latch onto his arm, he sort of just freezes. he’s never had anyone who wanted to snuggle with him. he lets you, but he doesn’t really reciprocate. he’d do anything if you asked, sure, but it’s a process.

b = body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

he loves your hips. little waist, hip dips, chunky thighs, tummy. it’s primal—he loves the little V pointing him directly to your cunt. an ass man, too, definitely. if your shorts ride up, oh, he’s melting.

he really doesn’t think about his own body a lot, but he knows he’s got nice arms. thick, muscly biceps, he loves the way you cling to them whenever you can. he likes being able to pick you up at a moments notice.

c = cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

eats his own when he’s alone fs i don’t care. it’s easier than finding a towel and wiping it up. whatever, it’s protein, right?

but he doesn’t expect you to enjoy his cum. of course, you would, lapping it from his tip greedily and making him swoon. he secretly adores when you swallow, ‘so good, takin’ it all.’ the feeling of unloading in your mouth (or cunt) makes his knees wobbly.

d = dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

daryl can be a sub little princess sometimes! he’d never ever admit it aloud, but if you praise him during sex, purring some ‘good boy,’ ohhh, he’s a goner. he loves when you take the lead, when you boss him around tellin’ him how you want it. you’d make fun of him, only to get shoved around for it later, because he’s still a dom at heart.

e = experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

eh. he’s had sex, definitely, but he’s not a sex god by any means. he’s awkward, uncoordinated and hesitant unless he’s having sex with the same person consistently. even then, he’s not super experimental, constantly worried about hurting the other person. if you two are dating, he takes things slow and definitely doesn’t make the first move. he waits for you to start something, finding your pace and matching it.

f = favorite position (this goes without saying)

cowgirlllllll all the way. he loooves seeing you on top, rolling those hips. if you have rolls, he’s all over it, squeezing and pawing at your soft skin. watching you bounce on his cock, seeing it bulge in your tummy has him reeling. that way, you have full control of how much you want, how fast you want it. he can finally relax, and let you take control. reverse cowgirl is hot, too, giving him a beautiful view of your ass as it wobbles atop him.

otherwise, doggy is a safe bet. you can always count on daryl to hold your hips the right way, hit it just so to make you melt.

g = goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

definitely not a goofy man, but a flustered mess, yes. blushing profusely, grumbling little ‘shuddup’s when you tease. he’s not one to make jokes during intimacy, but it’s mostly because he’s too focused on the task at hand.

h = hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

idk who said he’s well groomed but uh… that man does not own a razor. whatever hair he’s working with stays, and while you may convince him to shower regularly, he will not tame the bush (i like a hairy man, what can i say?). chest hair, armpit hair, back hair. god, he’s like a bear.

i = intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

daryl is not a romantic, not a smooth talker, not a flirt. but if he loves someone, he isn’t going to have sex unless he can handle the emotional aspect. he’s not going to call you his baby, not going to whisper sweet nothings, but he’ll tell you he loves you. he’ll praise you, tell you you’re doing so well. maybe he’ll stroke your hair (before pulling it), or kiss your neck softly.

j = jack off (masturbation headcanon)

daryl doesn’t jerk it often. hell, he wouldn’t even think to do so unless he was falling for someone. when he finally admits to himself that he has a crush, it opens up a can of worms, and those worms are horny. i imagine he’d hold out until he was going mad, pressed against a tree in the woods or the side of a shed, fisting his cock trying to relieve himself quickly. he’s huffing and puffing, trying desperately to get rid of the arousal. i feel like he either can’t cum, or edges himself until he just falls apart. definitely struggles with shame afterwards, staring at his load sitting in the dirt, panting and sweating. if he can’t cum, oh god, he’s stiff and irritable for days. whining and close to tears as he jerks himself till it hurts, bucking his hips mindlessly.

k = kink (one or more of their kinks)

daryl has a complex relationship with sex, i feel like that is obvious. he’s fairly vanilla. but if he’s comfortable, he may open up about some stuff he might be into. i don’t feel that he’s had a chance to explore a lot of those kinks, but he’s definitely stroked his dick thinking about them. he’d moan if his hair got pulled during sex, or if you claw at his back in missionary. primal stuff gets him going; sex is a very primal thing for him. he’d love to fuck your throat, despite hesitation and concern for your wellbeing. he’d need a lot of reassurance to really explore his kinks.

l = location (favorite places to do the do)

he’s not an exhibitionist, he’s not willing to do things in public, buuuuut!!! going back to the primal aspect of sex, doing it in the woods would be so hot to him, although he’d be hesitant. if you reassure him, he’ll fuck you anywhere, really. but against a tree, in the dirt, connected with nature, would get him going. otherwise, he’d love bending you over the couch, or the bed.

m = motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

daryl is not interested in PDA, and is very stubborn about keeping sex to when you two have time alone. you won’t catch him getting hard during a supply run because you rubbed up against him (“knock it off!”). with that being said, what turns him on? domestic things. you’re washing dishes? he’s coming up behind you, nuzzling your neck. you’re cooking? let him paw under your apron. you could be sitting still, reading a book, and he’d get all hot. all he’d want for his lover is for them to be comfortable, healthy and safe. seeing you enjoying life would make him drool.

n = no (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

like i mentioned earlier, he isn’t into PDA, public sex. if you tried to make the moves on him in front if the group, he’d shove you off, ignore you. sex, love and romance is private for him. he wouldn’t ever hit you, he won’t tie you up or gag you. he’s been through that on his own, and he does not want to recreate it.

o = oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

don’t get me started!!!! we all know daryl is a certified pussy muncher, eating you out with his whole body. he’s sloppy, drooling, slurping, sucking. he loves giving you head, doesn’t care if you haven’t showered, shaved, if you’re on your period. getting head is different, he’d be more hesitant to let you do it (“i wouldn’t put my mouth down there, why would i make you?”). once you did it, however, he’d be a total mess. whimpering, whining, struggling not to fuck your mouth. eventually, like i mentioned previously, he’d fall in love with throat-fucking you. once he found your limits, knew when to stop, how long to go for, he’d melt into it. of course, he’d only do it if you mentioned it. he’d be too nervous to ask for it.

p = pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

daryl is slow and hesitant, cautious and mindful. of course, once he gets permission, he might lose it a little, fucking you hard and fast. he struggles with self control, which is why sex is so hard for him. i imagine during sex, daryl might turn into a sweaty wreck, begging for you to tell him if he’s hurting you. he holds back for your safety, because he’s a big man, very strong, he could very well break you. generally, he wants to make it last, to ensure you’re satisfied. he doesn’t need to cum, as long as you feel good.

q = quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

again, daryl likes to make sex last, but time does not always call for that. if he’s comfortable enough, he may ask for a quickie, just to get some tension out. you might ask for one, and he’ll allow it if there’s time. it’s not his favorite thing, he’s pretty particular about when and where, but if he loves you, if he feels safe with you, he’ll do it.

r = risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

eh. i feel like the most he’d do is screw in the woods. if not for the apocalypse, yeah, i’m sure he would. but daryl is too much of a survivalist to take a lot of risks. especially with someone he loves, he won’t put your life in jeopardy for sex.

s = stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

oh boy!!! premature ejaculation daryl is canon per norman reedus himself, sooo… but! if he’s in a long-term relationship, stamina builds up, and he’ll go as long as he can to make you happy. he’ll torture himself if it means getting you off. overall, he’s not really down to go for hours and hours, he needs energy to protect his people, but he’ll do his best.

t = toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

no!

u = unfair (how much they like to tease)

hehe. he’s a major tease once he’s established a relationship with you. making little comments that he knows will rile you up, edging you until you cry. once he learns your boundaries, what makes you tick, whoo, you’re in for it. he loves toying with you, rubbing your sex until your squirming all messy and desperate. he’s constantly making fun of how needy you get, how bad you want it or how quick you cum.

v = volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

he’s quiet, for sure, but those feral grunts and groans escape his lips. he works hard, pounding into your tight holes with conviction. he’s sweating, huffing and puffing like a wild animal. he never gets real loud, always extremely self aware (unless you’re giving him head / rimming him, then he’s a whiney mess!!).

w = wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

daryl’s first time trying something freaky was nerve-racking. he was shaking, constantly asking if you were okay. you kept saying, “daryl, i’m fine, you haven’t even done anything yet.” he was just so nervous, so scared to hurt you. all you had asked was for him to choke you during sex, and he could barely manage. once he sunk into your tight heat, you placed his fingers on your throat. he hesitated before he wrapped them around, squeezing gently. you had to guide him, reassuring him every five minutes. until he found a rhythm, got close, thrusting into you as you clenched around him. every time you moaned, begged for more, his hand tightened.

now, every time you ask for him to choke you, he will oblige. he loves hearing your wheezes and croaks as he squeezes your neck.

x = x-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

FINALLY!!!! daryl isn’t a monster, but mans is thick. call me a psycho idc, somewhere around 5-6 inches, cut, veiny, fat. untamed bush, do not test me. dad bod for sure, but we know he’s fit as hell.

y = yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

daryl could go his whole life without sex. if he needs to cum, he can do it himself. once he’s in love, though, all he wants is to provide and protect. that includes pleasing you. he doesn’t have a high sex drive by any means, but if you’re home, pouting with those pretty eyes, how can he deny you?

z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

daryl is a snorer. he’ll try so hard to stay up, to keep you entertained after, but he works so hard, especially if you’re needy that night. coated in sweat and slick, he just passes out next to you.

#the walking dead #daryl dixon #twd daryl #twd #drabble #alphabet #tag #alphabet tag #twd fanfiction #fanfiction #twd smut #smut

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vaspider · 1 year ago

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Look. A little advice.

Once you get to a certain amount of Known on the internet or a subsection of it, or even in a subsection of a RL group of people, there are going to be people who will make up a version of you which exists only in their heads and which has absolutely nothing to do with who you are. It might better resemble who you were twenty years ago or it might never have had anything to do at all with who you were then or are now.

You cannot stop this. You cannot prevent this. Once you get a certain number of followers or a certain amount of attention, that's going to happen: people will make up stories about you which either look through a fun-house mirror at some small aspect of who you are and twist it and blow it up until it doesn't resemble you at all, or which just have absolutely no basis in fact whatsoever.

This is just another kind of parasocial relationship; it's the kind which really sucks to deal with, because it's so negative and so pervasive. It's very real, and the frustration you feel about it is very real. Nobody wants to be known incorrectly.

But. You can't control this. It's gonna happen. No matter what you say, no matter how precisely you say it, the people who want to misinterpret you will find a way to do so. This doesn't mean 'don't pay attention to what you say,' or 'don't be purposeful and precise with your language,' but it does mean 'don't obsess over the people who are determined to get you wrong.'

You can be the most anodyne, run-of-the-mill, unremarkable human being, and the people who are determined to hate you will find something that they can point to and say 'ha ha! I told you that Spider danced with the devil at midnight! I witnessed it myself!' (It will not help the situation if you are, say, self-admittedly stubborn as fuck, long-winded, and sometimes kinda fucking obnoxious, but please realize that in the end, it doesn't really matter. This is gonna happen no matter what.)

The people who matter will look at what's being said, wrinkle up their foreheads, and say, 'uh, man, it looks like Spider was actually playing with his dog at 9 am?'

That said, if you don't have elephant-thick skin from being a marginalized-gender human being who's been on the internet since before the web had pictures, there are some things you can do to make it easier when people making things up about you starts to get on your nerves:

Establish protocols for when it becomes too much: have someone read your messages, turn off your notifications, have time where you purposefully disengage.

Establish protocols for how you interact, period: "I will block people without guilt if they engage positively with the people who spread untruths about me." "I will answer everything in public so people can't lie about what I said, because it's right there in public." "I will not answer work-related stuff in DMs, that has to go to the work email." Whatever it is, create some boundaries for yourself. Stick to them. The people who push you to bend them aren't doing that for your benefit but theirs.

If you get someone who really hits your Weirdo Alarm, trust it. Yeah, block and report, but also, take screenshots and store them somewhere that isn't easily erased. I have an 'Internet Weirdos' folder, which makes it a little easier to deal with when people start doing things like 'making threats of physical harm to me and my family.' Don't fuss, just take a screenshot and chuck it in the folder. Having that record makes it easier to just forget that it ever happened, because you have a paper trail if anybody starts doing something Real Weird.

Spend time offline, with people who do actually know you.

Don't get lost in the version of you that someone else makes up in order to make up for the shit that's missing in their own life. You aren't required to play the part that someone else is trying to script for you. It is never to your benefit, only to theirs; you gain nothing by standing in that role for them, and you lose precious seconds of your one irreplaceable life.

You could be using those seconds to look at this video of how to pick up a duck, which I think we can all agree is a better investment of your time.

youtube

#internet #Youtube

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stillalivebydemand893 · 21 days ago

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YOU BOUGHT ME WHAT?

18+(repost)

Story:You thought Erik’s “surprise” would be cute. Wrong. He brought a vibrating toy with a remote app to his cousin’s birthday party. Chaos, near public orgasms, and family drama ,because nothing says love like being totally owned in front of your relatives.

“YOU BOUGHT ME WHAT—” you shrieked at your soon-to-be-dead boyfriend, Erik.

You couldn’t tell if you were excited or furious—your emotions were ricocheting between planets, not just words.

“Come on, Sweets! It’ll be hot. And fun! Look, it even has an app—I can control it from my phone!”

He waved his cracked-screen Iphone like it was a weapon of seduction.

You were five seconds from using that very phone to strangle him.

“Erik. You’ve lost your entire mind. I am not wearing that to your cousin’s birthday.”

You pointed at the tiny vibrating demon lying innocently on the table, like it wasn’t about to change lives and end relationships.

“Why not?” he grinned. “Afraid you’ll cum and give my uncle a stroke? Come onnn, Peach, pleaaaase.”

The puppy eyes. Classic Erik. Weaponized cuteness with a hint of chaos.

You hated that it was working.

The thought of him having remote access to your sanity, while everyone else was just eating cake and singing “Happy Birthday,” was equal parts horrifying and… really, really hot.

“If it’s too much, we stop. You know the safe word,” he said, all smooth and reassuring.

As if his actual goal wasn’t to absolutely destroy you emotionally, spiritually, and pelvic-floor-ally.

This was his evil little plan: insert that devil toy into your panties and turn your life into a horny round of Flappy Bird.

See how long you last before you crash into the wall of your own self-respect.

You inhaled like you were preparing for war.

“If I do this…”

His eyes widened. You had him.

“…you’ll have to do whatever I say next time we fuck.”

Your voice dropped into demonic territory. Satan would’ve been proud.

“No. Nope. Absolutely not. Last time you almost got my ass arrested—I’m not fucking in an open field ever again!”

He looked personally offended, which only made you giggle.

You had suggested doing it in the football bleachers of your old high school at night. Not your fault the security guard had a taser and Erik’s cardio game was trash. That’s on him.

“Then no toy. Deal’s off.”

You spun on your heel and headed toward the bedroom, knowing he’d fold faster than cheap laundry.

You’d been begging him to try roleplay for months, but he always pulled the same line:

“I’m not playing a vampire, I barely have self-respect as it is. So no, Bella, fuck off.”

And right on cue—

“FINE!” he shouted. “Jesus, you’re such a sneaky brat.”

He huffed like a man already regretting every choice he’d ever made involving you.

You beamed like Satan in fishnets.

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” you purred. “I’ll send you the script when we get back.”

And just like that, game on.

By the time you got to the car, the tiny pink monster was already tucked in your underwear, humming like a devilish lullaby against your skin. Erik, of course, was grinning like he’d just rigged the lottery.

“Seatbelt, baby,” he whispered, all innocent, like he wasn’t about to take you to war.

You shot him a look that said I will kill you and lie convincingly to the police.

But you buckled up anyway.

You had barely pulled out of the driveway when the first vibration hit—just a little bzzzz, like a test. You jolted in your seat.

“Erik.”

Warning voice. Cold. Dangerous.

“Hmm? I didn’t do anything.”

He held up his hands like a choirboy. Never mind that his phone screen was open to the app and his thumb was hovering.

“I swear to God, if you hit max in traffic—”

“Who, me?”

bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

You slapped his shoulder so hard the steering wheel swerved a little.

“ERIK.”

He laughed so hard he almost swerved again.

You made it to his cousin’s birthday without killing him, but only because you were 0.3 seconds away from orgasm in the middle of a McDonald’s drive-thru. The stakes were biblical.

At the party, you smiled and waved like a wholesome girlfriend. Inside? You were one rogue buzz away from turning the backyard into an adult film.

“Hey, sweetheart,” his aunt said, handing you a plate of cake.

You were mid-thank-you when Erik sent a burst—short, sharp, sudden.

Your knees buckled.

You fake-coughed. Twice.

“Thanks, I—wow, that frosting is… really intense.”

His aunt blinked. “It’s store-bought.”

You gave a deranged little laugh and fled.

In the corner of the yard, behind a sad inflatable bounce house, you hissed through clenched teeth:

“You are a SICK man.”

Erik had the nerve to smirk.

“You’re still dry-humping cake in front of my relatives, though. Admit it—you’re loving this.”

You weren’t.

You were also definitely loving this.

“This is sick. Twisted. You’re literally evil.”

bzzzzzzzzz

You grabbed him by the shirt and yanked him into the shadows.

“If you don’t stop, I’m going to rip this thing out and throw it in the punch bowl.”

Erik blinked, surprised. Then his grin widened.

“Or…” he murmured, brushing a hand down your arm, “you could let me win.”

You stared at him, breath shaky, thighs trembling.

“And why would I do that?”

“Because,” he leaned in, lips brushing your ear, “you haven’t even hit level three yet.”

Your legs almost gave out.

Later you were seated at the dinner table, surrounded by balloons, lukewarm pizza, and relatives pretending not to hate each other. Everyone was singing Happy Birthday, off-key, joyfully.

And you?

You were in hell.

You felt Erik’s hand slink under the table, sliding up your bare thigh like a villain in a soap opera.

His palm was warm. His intentions? Illegal.

And getting worse by the second.

His fingers brushed your panties.

The buzzing had started three minutes ago, but now his hand was joining the chaos, climbing higher—dangerously close to blowing up your entire family tree.

“Fuck, Sweets,” he whispered in your ear, voice dripping filth, “seems like you enjoy this toy a little too much.”

You were seconds from spontaneous combustion.

“Erik,” you hissed, “if you touch that phone ag—”

bzzZZZZZZZZZTTTT

You groaned. Audibly. Everyone at the table turned to look.

“Sorry! I thought I stepped on… Paco?”

You blinked, dazed. Face red. Pussy vibrating like an electric toothbrush at war with your self-control.

“OH MY GOD,” Bobby screamed, “WHERE IS PACO?!”

He leapt up from the table, frantically looking for his turtle like it hadn’t been missing since 2019.

Meanwhile, Erik leaned in close and whispered:

“Good girl.”

Your soul left your body.

“Bathroom. NOW.”

He followed you down the hallway like a horny retriever on a leash made of your moans.

The door shut. The lock clicked.

You jumped him, fists tangled in his shirt, lips hovering over his, your body trembling from pent-up desire and pure, unholy wrath.

“You better fuck me numb,” you growled, voice dark, shaking, “because if you turn that toy up one more level, your entire family’s getting a group trauma discount on therapy.”

His eyes darkened.

“Turn around.”

You did.

“Bend over.”

You obeyed.

“Dress up.”

You pulled your skirt higher. No panties. Just the toy. Still alive. Still pulsing.

“Get it out,” you begged, clutching the sink, desperate. “Please—get that thing out of me—”

He groaned. Deep. Devilish.

“Oh, Peach. The toy stays right where it is.”

“WHAT? NO, ERIK—”

But before you could finish the sentence, he slammed into you from behind, hard and fast, one hand over your mouth, the other gripping your hip like he owned it.

He was throbbing inside you—piercing and stretching, pushing the toy deeper, making it vibrate against your walls so hard you couldn’t even remember your own name, let alone your fake excuse for being in the bathroom.

“Let’s see how much you can take, Peach,” he growled, breath hot in your ear.

He reached for his phone—Level 4.

You screamed into his hand. Your legs buckled. Your whole body shook like it had been struck by lightning and left to fry.

He didn’t stop. Didn’t slow. His hips snapped forward, rhythm savage, slamming into you while the toy pulsed and your skin burned. You were melting. Vibrating. Screwed, in every definition of the word.

Then came the knock.

“Hey, Peach? How long are you gonna be in there?”

His mom.

You froze.

Erik smirked into your neck, slowing down just enough to make it worse.

“Come on, baby. Don’t leave her waiting. She’ll think you died in here.”

You gathered what remained of your dignity, your soul hanging by a thread, and shouted:

“In a minute, Mrs. Campbell!”

But right after the words left your lips, Erik slammed back into you with a force that made your brain flicker like a broken lightbulb.

You came.

Hard.

Your body went limp, trembling, your moan muffled by his palm, his lips on your neck, whispering filth like a demon in heat.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, thrusting deep one last time, shuddering as he spilled into you, his grip tight enough to keep you from collapsing .

You were barely conscious, clinging to the sink like it was a life preserver in a hurricane.

“Fuck,” you gasped. “That was… illegal. That was criminal. I need holy water.”

Erik looked smug. High-fived himself mentally. “I knew you’d enjoy it, you freak.”

You looked at him, your lips curling into a wicked smirk.

“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”

His grin faltered.

“Wait. What does that mean?”

You leaned close, still shaking, makeup smudged, a literal mess.

“Let’s just say… you’ll need a blood transfusion when I’m done with you.”

You winked. Opened the door.

Erik followed behind you, nervous now. Rightfully so.

He looked at your ass, still swaying from the aftermath, and whispered:

"…I should’ve just bought you flowers.”

#erik campbell fanfiction #erik campbell x reader #erik campbell #erik campbell final destination

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amysubmits · 2 years ago

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Owning Me Is Complicated

Occasionally I come across content that makes it seem like being a Dom is easy.

Order her around, make her do the things you don't want to do, do whatever you want, "win" all the disagreements because you're the dom - or even silence her from disagreeing with you to begin with. Get sex exactly how you want it, exactly when you want it. She's just a living, breathing object that can and will do whatever you want. She has no needs other than to make your life easier. She's your own personal robot, but with a body you want to fuck. Being a dom is like a regular relationship but without the emotional labor. I'm sure there are other gender versions out there too, but I see the M/f version most often. It's so funny to me how absurd that all is compared to real life.

Owning me is complicated. Owning me means doing way more emotional labor than a vanilla relationship would require, not less.

Yes, I do what he says - but he's responsible for making the best decisions he can. He's in charge, so keeping me physically and emotionally safe is his responsibility. It's a huge part of how he earns my submission. It's no small thing to make decisions when making them well is part of how he keeps me safe and keeps me open and trusting towards him. Yes, I'll try to push my sexual limits for him - but I have complex emotional needs that accompany physical intimacy. Use my body without having respect for my physical and mental health and it'll fall apart real quick. And once again, making a reckless decision here that would leave me damaged and could forever damage our dynamic. Sure, he can take his cock out anytime and instruct me to suck and I will, but that doesn't mean it's all fun and games. He has the burden of double and triple checking that he isn't pushing me too far, or taking too much as to leave me empty. Yes, he gets the final say in disagreements, but he earns that by hearing me out. He couldn't keep me submissive if he didn't respect my feelings. I can't feel respected if I'm not heard. So he has to hear me out and really listen. And then his job is to attempt to get the best outcome for both of us. He has to try to balance our needs, because if either of us gets neglected, we individually suffer and then the relationship suffers. So he sometimes deals with the weight of threading the needle between his needs and mine, his wants and mine. His shoulders carry the weight of those choices. Yes, he can deny my wishes - and even my needs for a time, if he chose. But I am human. How long can he deny me things that bring me pleasure before I start to feel unwanted, unloved, disrespected, thrown out? Resentment would set in eventually. Self-protection would kick in eventually...and it might be too late by then, the damage may be done by the time I would wake up to look around and decide I didn't want to live like this anymore. Why would he want to even find out, given that he loves me? He wouldn't. He has a sadistic streak, so he likes to deny me things I like so that I long for them even more for a while. He likes to see me eager, desperate to get it when he decides to give it. He likes to watch me tolerate discomfort for him. Playing with these ideas require a deep understanding of my needs and limits. He has to know where "desperate for you 🥺 " starts to fade and "That goblin in the back of my head is starting to worry I'm not valued" starts to enter my thoughts. Yes, I look to him to guide and lead, and he has a lot of power and control - but that comes with the ability to destroy and damage. There's nothing easy about ownership if you feel the weight of the responsibility you're carrying.

#writing #sccwriting #d/s #24/7 d/s

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rosesnbooks · 1 year ago

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✨Leo placements✨

disclaimer: i am not a professional and i write these posts for fun, so keep that in mind love

☀️sun in leo - these people have big hearts and they love, love attention. however, i have noticed that even though some like attention most of the time, others prefer it in an environment they can control, such as on stage, where they have rehearsed and know about the possible outcomes. they like to take care of themselves and enjoy life. they also love to spoil those they love, and their love is bright and warm. most of them are very creative and especially talented in one domain that they pursue bravely, such as cooking or writing. people notice them wherever they go, and they seem approachable and a little intense. what i mean by that is they seem excited and loud, which is lovely but too much for some people. this isn't true for all of them though; some can be shy to a certain degree when you meet them. they love talking and making people laugh, and this fuels them. they need people in their lives and cannot spend too much time alone. some time is needed for retrospect, which they usually use. they hate failing because it impacts them greatly, but many of them try to process this and continue like nothing happened. unless it is regarding matters of the heart, then it takes more time to get over someone

🌝moon in leo - they like to see the best in people, and sadly many of them get disappointed with time, but there's a part of them that never gives up on people. they are very sensitive deep down and can get hurt easily. their ego truly is an issue, but if they recognize this and work on it, they can develop healthy relationships with others and themselves. they are very creative, and when they focus on their tasks and things they love, they can excel at them and don't stop until what they're working on is up to their standards. they are curious about many things, which is why they may start a hobby and then disregard it with time if their heart wasn't really in it. when they are angry, they can be really harsh and impulsive, similarly to aries, but i feel like they feel sorry about it more than aries because whatever they said to you remains ingrained in their memory. some of them tend to be selfish because their own happiness and worries are their main priority, which isn't bad per se, but it can get out of hand. they hate to waste time and feel like their life has no purpose or impact. i noticed that they have a competitive nature, even when playing games...they just love winning.

🌼ascendant/rising in leo - vibrant, brave, optimistic, and a bit intense people at first glance. they have a strong hunger for happiness and passion. people mostly like them, but some have mixed opinions since some can feel overwhelmed by their energy and self-love. nevertheless, many appreciate their lively nature, and they are easily noticed wherever they go. even if you don't see them momentarily, you'll hear them because they are often loud and like to talk. they might have issues with overindulging in things like binge eating or spending too much money. they can have a strong desire to lead, and if not, they still want to contribute greatly to something and see their influence. they put effort into their looks if they have the time and money because they want to present themselves in the best light (for themselves and others). people usually notice them by their hair, and i'd also like to add that their eyes are very sparkly and focused, and that they may have really quick mannerisms.

🌻mercury in leo - quite expressive when they talk! humor is important to many of them, and they love people who can make them laugh. many tend to speak fast as well. their comedic timing is really good. if underdeveloped, they can be bad listeners and only want to focus on themselves and when it's their turn to talk. they also tend to have a smile on their face most of the time when speaking, just my personal observation. people are charmed by the way they communicate; they cannot help but feel warm. this placement is really passionate about various topics, and it is interesting to listen to them. they often like telling stories, and it feels like you're watching a movie play out because they are really into it and dramatic. there's a lot of passion in their speech, and while it can be over-the-top for some, many enjoy it. honestly, they are so cute. a downside could be their stubborn nature, which may limit their worldviews or general views on some things. they may seem carefree, but they are not, so approach them with kindness and respect.

⭐venus in leo - they love romance and are very loyal and dedicated partners. they need lots of excitement and adoration in their relationship to remain happy. being with someone who takes life too seriously, doesn't praise them enough, and is not really active as a person is a big no for this placement. they love praising people and giving them thoughtful gifts and watching your face light up when you open them. you'll feel super special with them if they think highly of you. they can get crushes from time to time, but if they love you and want to commit, it is harmless. they are very loving toward their friends and are loud about their affections. basically, they adore all love languages, but primarily quality time, words of affirmation, and physical touch would be their top three (in my humble opinion). they also love going places with their loved ones because they have lots of energy and curiosity, and it's really fun to do anything with them. i'd also add that besides leo risings, i've found that leo venus also have curly or generally luscious hair.

��mars in leo-very bold and a bit stubborn. they need to be active and pursue what they love in order to remain healthy and happy. they are go-getters and they love to spread their positive energy. their stamina is very good. despite their impulsive nature, they are very focused on their goals and try their best to be great. they often get what they want and might really dislike when things don't go their way, but they never give up. may be too stuck in their own ways without seeing the big picture or other perspectives, so they need to be more open-minded because this will help them achieve their goals and form healthier relationships. they are immensely proud of their achievements and especially of the things their loved ones achieved. they can get carried away by their passions, no matter how hard they try not to. their sweetness shines in this placement as well because they truly want to be friends with everyone. lastly, if you're their person, they will be extremely loyal to you

⚡saturn in leo—they may struggle with being more optimistic, putting themselves first, and taking leading roles in any area of their life. they can care too much about what people think or might think about them, so they need to snap out of it. they can be very strict with themselves and quit before even trying things out. just do it, hun; the only way out is through (sadly, but yeah). they are very capable people who already have everything they need within themselves, so trying things out even when scared can bring them lots of luck and, honestly, a better life. putting yourself out there doesn’t mean being vain, pathetic, or needy if you’re not hurting anyone in the process. this placement wants recognition deep down, but they remove themselves from such situations. i'm here to tell you that you’ll survive this and that you won’t lose your individuality in the process. you’ll gain confidence and naturally attract the people who are right for you. on the bonus side, they are often careful and responsible.

🏆jupiter in leo—people with this placement shine brightly when they are in the spotlight. they want to enjoy life and pursue their passions, and the happiness they feel during these moments is contagious. they are generous and inspiring, so many people admire them and feel influenced by them. their generosity is also admirable and fulfilling for them. they can thrive in creative environments and in those where they can express themselves. they are also often good with kids and expressing their childlike nature, which helps them enjoy life and see things more positively. basically, focusing on themselves and others is what brings them luck and joy. they have leadership potential, and at the end of the day, they want someone to recognize their efforts, kindness, and talent, and give them lots of love.

thank you for reading!💛🧡

©rosesnbooks

#astrology #leo zodiac #leo placements #leo astrology #rosesnbooks #this wasn't easy to write cause it turns out i don't know many leo placements so this took work #even soo i hope you like it !! tried my best <33 #dividers by saradika-graphics #p.s. i have recently read that some people noticed leo risings are actually shy at first which was interesting. Idk what to tell you #i had different experiences but i see how it is possible!

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n01likeu · 10 days ago

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Everything.

MINOR DO NOT INTERACT.

Pairing: Choi San x Afab reader Word count: 6k Genre: Exploring themes of longing, control, and explicit intimacy within a relationship facing external familial conflict. Dom!reader, softdom!san, sub!san. Beg beg beg. Please note: This content is for mature audiences due to explicit sexual themes. It contains elements of emotional manipulation, toxic relationship, and power dynamics, as well as descriptions of crying, anxiety, and self-esteem issues. There are also mentions of consensual, safe, and aftercare. Self-indulgent. Reader discretion is advised. A/N: Please, lovies. Give me a heads up if I forgot to mention something that I needed to add, or if there’s any errors. I am new to this, and it’s my first time uploading my work here. I didn’t fully checked my work, do expect some errors, lovies. English is not my first language, bear with me. Happy reading.

You hate him so much. You despise him. Your coping mechanism is to hate your ex, even though you both ended on good terms. All you can think of are the things he did that made you frown—ick, rather. You loathe San. Oh, not really. You ended things with him because of your grandparents. They wanted you to focus on your future by studying business management to take over their company. You’re sick of this. Your parents can’t even protest; they obey as well. They love San, and they want him for you. Too bad, because they also want a “better future” for you.

It’s almost been a month since you last saw him face-to-face. You’ve done everything you could: visiting different cafes with your friends, going out to a park with your dog, isolating yourself in a library, and trying new recipes for pastries within that month. But in the end, San is still in your mind. You keep thinking that he’s supposed to be with you, visiting those new cafes, playing with your dog out in the park, reading books together in a library (but he’d be looking at you, not even a single glance at the upside-down book he’s holding), and baking with you using his passed-down recipes from his great-grandmother. It pisses you off so bad that every time you think of doing something, there’s always a reserved space for him. You hate him because there’s no other thing that could help you forget him since you did it all with him for over six years. You’re in your second year of college, all fucked up, rotting in your bed. Your best friend Ningning had visited your apartment just a few hours ago to lighten you up, knowing you’re not fully okay after finals and your endless reminiscing of San. You felt sorry for your best friend, but she reassured you it was all fine. Satan must be having fun... fucking my life in every way, you thought to yourself.

You’re staring at your ceiling, and now you’re thinking of your ex. You miss how he used to trace imaginary patterns on your arm when you were lying next to him, how his laugh would fill your apartment, making even the emptiest days feel vibrant. You miss the way he’d pull you into unexpected hugs, smelling faintly of the coffee shop he worked at and his subtle, comforting cologne. You miss his endless patience when you were struggling with an assignment, sitting quietly beside you, offering a reassuring squeeze of your hand every now and then. You even miss his annoying habit of leaving his socks by the bed, because at least then you knew he was there. A sharp pang echoes in your chest. It’s not just the absence of him, but the gaping hole where your shared future used to be. Every dream you ever spun, every “what if” scenario, every plan for five, ten, even twenty years down the line, had his face in it. Now, it’s just a blurry, undefined expanse, shadowed by your grandparents’ “better future” and the weight of their company. You clench your jaw, a bitter taste filling your mouth. This isn’t your future; it’s theirs. And you resent it. You resent them. But most of all, you resent San for being so unforgettable, for being so intrinsically woven into the fabric of your life that even tearing him out leaves a ragged, bleeding edge. You close your eyes, wishing for sleep, for oblivion, for anything that could silence the unwavering echo of his memory. But even in the darkness, you can still feel the ghost of his hand in yours, a phantom warmth that refuses to fade.

The city lights hummed around you, a stark contrast to the quiet ache in your chest. You’d decided to brave one of your old haunts tonight—a small, dimly lit bar with good music and even better cocktails, hoping to drown out the persistent thoughts of San. The air was thick with the scent of whiskey and faint perfume as you nursed your drink, tracing patterns on the condensation of your glass. Suddenly, a shift in the ambient noise, a subtle change in the energy of the room, snagged your attention. You didn’t even have to look up. You felt him. Every nerve ending in your body tingled with an electric awareness. Your breath hitched. He was here. Your eyes finally lifted, drawn across the smoky room as if by an invisible string. And there he was. San. He was standing by the bar, talking to the bartender, but his gaze, hot and familiar, was already locked onto yours. The casual hum of conversations, the clinking of glasses, the music—it all faded into a distant murmur. There was only him. And you.

He started to move, not directly towards you, but as if on a circuit, heading towards the restrooms, a path that would take him directly past your table. Your heart hammered against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the silence that now enveloped you. As he approached, his eyes never left yours, a silent, potent conversation passing between you. There was no awkward smile, no forced pleasantry. Just a raw, undeniable hunger in his gaze that mirrored your own. As he drew level with your seat, his pace barely faltered. His hand, warm and calloused, brushed against your lower back, a deliberate, lingering touch that sent a searing current through you. It was a familiar ghost, a memory of countless other touches that had promised so much more. He didn’t stop, didn’t speak, but the brief contact was an explosion of suppressed desire, an unspoken question hanging heavy in the air. You watched his retreating back, your skin still humming from his touch. You knew exactly what that meant. And you knew, with a terrifying certainty, that you were going to follow.

As San moved past, the spot on your lower back where his hand had lingered burned like a brand. The air around you crackled with unspoken tension. Your breath felt shallow, caught somewhere in your throat. You watched the line of his shoulders beneath the dark jacket, the way his dark hair caught the dim light. It had been almost a month, but the sight of him, that look in his eyes, the brief, deliberate touch—it had ripped through your carefully constructed walls of indifference. Your mind raced, a chaotic jumble of longing, resentment, and that undeniable, insistent pull of physical attraction. You hated him for doing this to you, for disrupting the fragile peace you’d been trying to build. But a louder voice, a more primal instinct, was screaming something completely different.

Without conscious thought, you pushed yourself to your feet, your chair scraping slightly against the wooden floor. The sound seemed amplified in the sudden quiet that had descended around you. You hesitated for a fraction of a second, a sliver of your rational mind screaming at you to sit back down, to ignore the magnetic force drawing you in. But the memory of his touch, the intensity in his eyes that mirrored your own buried desires, was too strong to resist. You took a step, then another, your gaze fixed on San’s broad back as he disappeared through the door marked “Restroom.” You knew he hadn’t actually needed to use them. This was a silent invitation, a pretense.

Taking a deep breath, the humid night air clinging to your skin as the bar door briefly opened and closed, you followed. The dimly lit hallway leading to the restrooms felt thick with anticipation. The sounds of the bar faded behind you, replaced by a low hum of the air conditioning. You knew what you were about to do. And despite the turmoil in your heart, a part of you, a deeply buried, fiercely yearning part, couldn’t deny the electric thrill of it.

You reached the restroom door and paused, your hand hovering over the cool metal handle. The low murmur of male voices could be heard from within. Taking one last shaky breath, you pushed the door open and stepped inside. San was leaning against the sink, arms crossed, his gaze already on you, that same intense, knowing look still blazing in his eyes. The air crackled. The game had begun again.

He was still leaning against the sink, his arms crossed over the glossy texture of his jacket, the silver chain around his neck catching the faint light from the overhead fixture. His dark hair, slightly disheveled, framed a face that was both impossibly familiar and unnervingly alluring in the muted light. His eyes, dark and heavy-lidded, devoured you. There was no casual greeting, no “fancy meeting you here.” His gaze alone was a physical touch, tracing every curve, every shadow. The silence stretched, thick and suffocating, yet vibrating with an unspoken language only the two of you understood. It was the language of six years of shared history, of bodies that knew each other intimately, of a passion that had never truly died, only been forcibly buried. You felt your cheeks flush, a wave of heat spreading through you that had nothing to do with the humid night. You wanted to look away or flee, to break the potent spell, but you couldn't. You were a moth to his flame, drawn in by the sheer magnetic force of his presence.

He pushed off the sink, taking one slow, deliberate step towards you. Then another. The small space of the restroom felt even smaller, every inch of it shrinking until it felt like the world had narrowed down to just the two of you. The faint scent of stale cigarette smoke and generic air freshener was obliterated by the clean, distinct scent of him—something woody and slightly musky, utterly San. His hand rose, slowly, as if in a dream, and he reached out. His fingers didn’t go for your face or your hair. Instead, they settled on the sensitive skin of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your pulse point. The contact was electric, sending shivers down your spine and igniting a fire in your core. It was a possessive gesture, a silent claim.

“You followed,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rasp that sent another jolt through you. It wasn’t a question. It was a statement of fact, laced with triumph and a raw, carnal anticipation. His eyes dropped from yours, trailing slowly down your face, lingering on your lips. Your breath hitched. Your body was already betraying you, aching for his touch. The fight you’d been putting up for the past month dissolved like smoke. All the reasons you shouldn’t, all the ‘what-ifs’ about your grandparents and your future, vanished. There was only this moment, this man, and the undeniable truth of your shared, burning desire.

“Of course, I did,” you whispered back, your voice barely audible, a confession, a surrender. “Why wouldn’t I?” You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing for a brief moment as his thumb continued its maddening rhythm on your neck. The next move, you knew, would be yours to make, or his. And it wouldn’t involve talking. You snaked your arms on the back of his neck and pressed your lips against him, closing the gap between you and San. His fingers squeeze the side of your neck—enough to make you breathe, even. San’s other hand traveled down on your ass, squeezing it, pulling you closer until you felt his hard, clothed cock. You started to grind your body against him. San let out a low groan against your mouth, a sound of pure pleasure that vibrated through your entire body. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in a passionate dance. The pressure on your neck eased slightly, allowing for more comfortable breathing, but his grip on your ass remained firm, keeping your bodies tightly pressed together. You could feel the undeniable heat radiating from him, mirroring the inferno building within you. Every grind of your hips against his was met with an eager pushback, a silent language of escalating desire. The air around you crackled with an unspoken urgency, a shared need that threatened to consume you both. You felt yourself getting dizzy, not from lack of air, but from the intoxicating rush of his presence, the raw intensity of the moment. The world outside of his embrace faded into a blurry background, and all that existed was the pounding of your hearts, the delicious friction of your bodies, and the promise of what was yet to come.

You broke the kiss, gasping for air, your forehead resting against his. His eyes, dark with desire, met yours. “God, you drive me insane,” he breathed, his voice thick and rough. His thumb, still on your neck, traced the line of your jaw, sending shivers down your spine.

“Oh, really?” You purred back, a mischievous glint in your eyes, a slight smirk playing on your lips. You could feel the frantic beat of your heart against his chest. His grip on your ass didn’t lessen, keeping you flush against him, making the undeniable evidence of his arousal all the more present. Your fingers, still laced in his hair, gave a gentle, possessive tug. He chuckled, a low, husky sound that sent another wave of heat through you.

“Is it now?” He murmured, his gaze utterly devoted. “Because I feel like I’m the one about to lose my mind here... if you’d allow it.” His gaze dropped to your lips, then back to your eyes, filled with an almost desperate plea. “What kind of spell are you doing to me, beautiful?”

You leaned in, brushing your lips against his. “What do you want me to do?” You challenged softly, a hint of steel beneath the teasing sweetness in your voice. You felt him tense beneath your touch, a clear sign of his hunger and his readiness to submit. He pulled back just enough to look at you properly, a serious intensity replacing the playful glint in his eyes, now mixed with a deep, consuming adoration.

“Everything,” he said, his voice dropping to a near growl, a tone of absolute surrender. “I want you to do everything.” He squeezed your ass again, pulling you impossibly closer, his body vibrating with controlled anticipation. “And I want to do everything for you, to you, as you wish.”

You let out a soft, knowing laugh, a sound that held a hint of delicious victory. “Are you willing to do such thing, San?” You murmured, your fingers tightening around the back of his neck, pulling him a fraction of an inch closer until your lips were almost touching again. Your gaze dropped to his mouth, then back up to his eyes, watching the worship intensify.

“Please, love. Let me feel you. Let me fuck you right here, please.” Your hand moved from his neck, trailing slowly down his chest, resting over his heart, which was pounding a frantic rhythm. You felt his sharp intake of breath, a subtle shiver that ran through him. You could feel the undeniable strength of his body, the hard planes of his muscles, yet he was utterly still beneath your touch, waiting.

“Begging already?” you whispered, your voice dropping to a seductive husk. “Then you’ll have to earn it, won’t you?" Tilting your head slightly, a clear signal of your will. “You hear me, San?” The words hung in the air, a silken thread of absolute will.

“Yes. Please, let me touch you…” He spoke in a low tone, grinding on your thighs. Sweating gathered on his forehead and fell down to his jaw as he breathed heavily.

“Fucking insane. I didn’t order you to grind like a dog on me,” you spat. “Kneel.” A last word that followed out of your mouth. San immediately fell to his knees, hands on his lap. Looking at you as a vulnerable piece. The dim light of the restroom played across the silk black dress, highlighting the curve of your back, the enticing hint of your thong visible as you leaned against the sink, supporting your weight.

“Eat me out. Devour me like you own me.” You looked down to San, who was reaching for your ankles, massaging them as his hands traveled up to your legs, kissing them inch by inch, worshipping your body, parting your legs as he went up to your thighs, leaving a mark, and licking them after. His eyes, dark with fervent desire, remained fixed on you as he slowly, deliberately, brought his face closer to your waiting heat. You could feel his warm breath ghosting over your most sensitive skin, sending shivers through you that were a delicious mix of anticipation and absolute control. He paused, just for a moment, a silent question in his gaze, seeking your final, unspoken approval, even as his body trembled with eagerness. You watched him, your own breath catching in your throat, the thrill of his utter devotion a potent potion. Without a verbal cue, but with a subtle shift in your weight and a slight parting of your lips, you granted him permission. His dark head dipped, and then his tongue, hot and wet, made first contact. A sharp gasp tore from your throat, your fingers instinctively gripping the cool edge of the sink behind you.

He was everything you remembered, everything you craved, and more. His movements were precise, deliberate, a worshipful exploration that left no inch of you untouched. Each flick of his tongue, each gentle suck, was designed to push you closer and closer to the edge, a master of his craft, completely consumed by the act of pleasing you. You felt the warmth spread, fire igniting in your core, and the world outside the small restroom dissolved into a blissful haze of sensation. His hands moved to cup your buttocks, lifting you slightly, pressing you more firmly against his mouth. The silk dress rode up, revealing even more of your thong-clad rear. You arched your back, a low moan escaping your lips as the intensity built. You could feel his hot breaths, hear his soft groans of pleasure, mingling with your own. He was truly devouring you, just as you’d commanded, lost in a single-minded pursuit of your satisfaction. The thought of your grandparents, your future, and the entire world outside was utterly obliterated by the exquisite reality of San at your feet, making you burn. As he continued his movements, you found yourself twisting, unable to keep still, your fingers digging into the cool porcelain of the sink. Each stroke of his tongue, each gentle pull, was a direct shot of pleasure, spiraling through you. He paused for a moment, just long enough for you to let out a frustrated whimper, before resuming with renewed intensity, as if punishing you for your impatience, yet simultaneously rewarding you with deeper sensations.

“San,” you gasped, your voice strained, barely recognizable even to your own ears. Your head fell back against the mirror, your eyes squeezed shut, the world now nothing but the rhythmic, insistent pleasure he was eliciting. He didn’t answer verbally, but the way his tongue moved and the increased pressure of his mouth told you he heard your plea and was only going to push you further. He shifted, bringing one hand to cup your mound, his thumb sweeping over your already swollen clit, while his mouth worked wonders. The combination was almost unbearable, pushing you right to the edge. You felt a soft trembling start deep within you, growing, consuming.

“Please,” you whimpered again, the word barely a breath. “San... please…” You weren’t sure what you were begging for—was it for him to stop, for him to continue, for release, for more, or for less? It was just a desperate, animalistic sound of pure need. He lifted his head for a second; his eyes, dark and glazed with his own rising passion, met yours. His face was flushed, a sheen of sweat on his forehead, his lips glistening.

“Beg for it, doll,” he murmured, his voice a low, rough rumble against your skin, just before his mouth closed over you again, sending a jolt that made your toes curl.

A whimper tore through you. “San, I—I need—” Your words broke off into a choked cry as he intensified his service, driving you closer to the edge than you thought possible. “Please... please, I’m almost there…”

He pulled back again, just a fraction, the sudden withdrawal almost painful. You whimpered, reaching out blindly, your fingers tangling in his dark hair. “Don’t stop, San. Please, don’t stop. I need you, fuck.” Your voice was raw, stripped bare of any pretense of control. “Please, baby, don’t stop, I beg you.”

His eyes burned into yours, a successful glint mixing with the absolute adoration. “Say my name,” he rasped, his breath hot against your thigh. “Say you need me.”

“San, baby. Oh god, San, I need you. Make me cum. Please, baby.” Your hips bucked instinctively against his face, a desperate plea for release. You let out a loud moan; you didn’t realized how loud you are. He watched you, a slow, sensual smile spreading on his lips as your desperation grew. He was enjoying every single second of your unraveling, your complete surrender to the sensations he was orchestrating.

“Such a good girl. Begging for me just to fuck her stupid using my mouth,” he purred, the words sending another shiver through you. And then, with a final, deep dive, he pushed you over the edge. A strangled cry ripped from your throat as your body convulsed, pleasure exploding through every nerve ending. You clutched his hair, your nails digging lightly into his scalp as your knees threatened to buckle. He held you steady, his mouth still working, catching every last tremor of your climax, devouring you completely. When the last movements ended and your breathing evened out, he finally pulled away, his face slick with your mutual pleasure. He looked up at you, his eyes still dark with a simmering desire, but now also filled with a profound, almost reverent satisfaction. He reached up, his thumb gently wiping a tear from the corner of your eye that you hadn’t even realized had fallen.

“All for you, sweet,” he breathed, his voice soft, utterly devoted. He then leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to your now-sensitive skin, a lingering, possessive touch. “Always.”

It took a few shaky moments for you to regain your composure, to find your footing again as the waves of pleasure receded, leaving you delightfully weak. San rose from his kneeling position, his movements fluid and unhurried. He didn’t speak, but his gaze, hot and possessive, lingered on your face, reading every lingering trace of your climax. He reached out, his hand gently settling on the small of your back, a silent anchor.

“We can’t stay here,” you murmured, your voice still a little breathless, the words feeling foreign and heavy in the aftermath. The fluorescent lights of the restroom, the lingering scent of disinfectant, suddenly felt stark and unwelcome after the intimate intensity of the past few minutes. San merely hummed in agreement, his thumb stroking your skin. He didn’t need words. He knew exactly what you meant, what you wanted. Your apartment. Your bed. The place where inhibitions could truly melt away. He turned, guiding you gently with his hand on your back, leading you out of the restroom and back into the muffled hum of the bar.

The transition felt surreal. The conversations and laughter of strangers seemed distant, a mere backdrop to the vibrant thrumming between you and San. You didn’t speak a word as you walked past the main bar area, past curious glances, out into the humid night. The air was thick and warm, clinging to your skin, a stark contrast to the cool air-conditioned interior of the bar. He hailed a taxi with practiced ease, opening the door for you before sliding in beside you. The ride to your apartment was a silent symphony of anticipation. Your hand found him in the darkness of the backseat, fingers intertwining, a silent promise exchanged. His thumb drew lazy circles on your knuckles, a comforting rhythm that spoke volumes. The earlier resentment, the carefully constructed walls of hatred, felt like a distant, irrelevant memory. All that mattered was the warmth of his hand, the shared heat in the small space, and the electric hum of what was coming next.

Soon enough, the taxi pulled up to your apartment building. You fumbled for your keys, your hands still trembling slightly, a small laugh escaping your lips. San took them from you, his fingers brushing yours, and effortlessly unlocked the door. He let you enter first, a silent deference that made your stomach clench in a delicious way. The apartment was dark and quiet, save for the faint glow of city lights filtering through the blinds. You kicked off your shoes, letting them fall unceremoniously to the floor. San closed the door behind him, the soft click echoing in the stillness, severing you from the outside world.

He didn’t turn on any lights. The dimness felt right, adding to the illicit intimacy of the moment. You turned to face him, the faint light catching the contours of his face, the intensity in his eyes. He reached for you, his hands cupping your face, his thumbs gently caressing your cheeks.

“My love,” he whispered, his voice a low, rough reverence that sent shivers down your spine. He leaned in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, then your eyelids, then tracing the curve of your jaw with his lips before finally finding yours. This kiss was slower, deeper than before, a lingering promise. His tongue traced your lips, asking for entry, and you readily granted it, your body already arching into his. San’s hands moved from your face, trailing down your neck, over your shoulders, and then found the hem of your black silk dress. He slowly, deliberately, began to pull it up, his eyes never leaving yours, watching for any sign, any hint of resistance. There was none. The silk glided upwards, revealing more of your legs, the smooth curve of your hips, until the thong beneath was fully exposed. San took a moment, his gaze sweeping over your exposed skin, a low groan rumbling in his chest. You reached for him too, your fingers fumbling with the zipper of his jacket, then the snaps of his shirt. He stood still, a statue of patient devotion, allowing you to undress him. The leather jacket came off first, then his shirt, revealing the hard planes of his chest and the taut muscles of his abdomen. You traced the lines of his body with your fingertips, feeling the heat radiate from him, the faint tremor that ran through him as your skin met his. San stepped back slightly and took your hand, leading you deeper into the apartment, as if he lived there, to the bedroom. The soft rug underfoot felt luxurious against your bare soles. In the dim light, your bed looked like an island, an irresistible haven. He paused at the edge, his gaze searching yours.

“May I?” he murmured, a silent question asking permission to continue, even though every fiber of your being screamed yes. You nodded, a shaky breath escaping your lips. He reached for the strap of your dress at your shoulder, slowly sliding it down, allowing the silk to pool at your feet. You stepped out of it, the black fabric a discarded puddle. He then lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed. You gasped, wrapping your legs around his waist as he lowered you onto the soft mattress. He hovered over you, supporting himself on his elbows, his eyes never leaving yours.

“You are so beautiful,” he breathed, his voice thick with adoration. “Perfect. So fucking perfect for me and mine only.” His hand found the waistband of your thong, his fingers slipping underneath. He slowly, agonizingly slowly, peeled it down your legs until you were completely bare beneath him. He didn’t rush, savoring each moment, each inch of exposed skin. You reached for the waistband of his pants, pulling at them impatiently. He chuckled, a deep, satisfied sound, and helped you, shucking off his pants and boxers until he too was naked, his hard form pressing against your bare thighs. He settled between your legs, his weight a delicious pressure. He leaned down, burying his face in your neck, inhaling your scent, leaving a trail of hot kisses along your collarbone.

“You have no idea how long I have dreamt of this,” he whispered against your skin, his voice raw with a desperate longing that mirrored your own. "Of being here again, with you, like this.” You threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling his head back slightly so you could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, almost black, brimming with an overwhelming emotion that captivated you.

“Show me, San,” you whispered, your voice a soft invitation, your hips unconsciously tilting up, pleading. “Show me everything.” He met your gaze, a powerful mixture of adoration and barely contained hunger in his eyes. He leaned in, pressing his lips to yours, a deep, consuming kiss that stole your breath away. This was not just desire; it was a profound connection, a reunion of souls that had been torn apart, now finding their way back to their inevitable convergence. His body moved, pressing deeper, finding that familiar, perfect fit. You gasped against his mouth, a sound of pure, unmixed relief and escalating pleasure. He groaned against your lips, a deep, guttural sound that vibrated through your entire being as he began to move. Slowly at first, a deliberate testing of the waters, a teasing rhythm that built the excitement. You responded immediately, your hips instinctively meeting him, pushing back, craving the full immersion. His hands found your waist, gripping you firmly, lifting you slightly to deepen the angle, to ensure every friction was maximized.

“My love,” he breathed, the words muffled against your mouth as he broke the kiss, his lips trailing down your jaw to your ear. “You feel so good. So good.” His breath hitched as you arched into him, a soft moan escaping your lips. The pace quickened, a primal dance that spoke volumes without a single word. The bed beneath you became a tempest, the soft mattress sinking with each powerful thrust. You wrapped your legs tighter around his waist, pulling him in closer, urging him deeper. Your nails lightly scraped against his back as you clung to him, lost in the escalating storm of sensation. His muscles flexed under your touch, a testament to the raw strength he held in check for you. He was a force, yet utterly devoted to your pleasure, watching your face for every sign, every gasp, every subtle shift in your expression. He leaned down, catching your lips in a passionate kiss again, swallowing your moans, mingling your breaths until there was no telling where one ended and the other began.

The air in the room grew heavy, thick with the scent of aroused bodies and desperate need. The sounds of your apartment, usually so familiar, were now just the frantic pounding of your hearts and the soft gasps and moans that filled the space. The thought of anything beyond this moment, beyond the exquisite friction and the intoxicating scent of San, completely vanished. This was your true future, the one you truly desired, unraveling beneath you in a tangle of limbs and breathless whispers. He pulled back, just enough to look into your eyes, his own dark and dilated, filled with a burning intensity.

“Look at me,” he rasped, his voice strained, raw with his own approaching climax. “Look at me, doll.” You met his gaze, completely consumed, your body trembling on the brink. You could feel the building pressure deep inside, the undeniable ascent towards another peak. His eyes, fixed on yours, were the only anchor in the swirling of sensation.

“San,” you whimpered, his name a desperate plea, a worshipful prayer on your lips. With a final, powerful thrust, he drove into you, a deep, all-consuming connection that sent you spiraling over the edge once more. A guttural cry escaped you as your body shook uncontrollably around him, clutching him tighter. He groaned, a primal sound of release, as he followed you, collapsing onto you, his body heavy and satiated. The aftermath was a symphony of heavy breaths and pounding hearts, bodies slick with sweat, entangled in the peaceful silence that followed the storm. He buried his face in your neck, pressing kisses to your damp skin, utterly spent, yet still holding you impossibly close, as if afraid to let you go. He lay heavy on you, his chest rising and falling against yours, the scent of him—a mix of sweat, sex, and his familiar cologne—filling your senses. Your fingers, still tangled in his hair, gently stroked the nape of his neck. The frantic rhythm of your heart gradually slowed, syncing with the steady beat of his. The silence in the room was profound, punctuated only by your soft breaths and the lingering hum of satisfaction that resonated deep within your bones.

After a long moment, he shifted, lifting his head from your neck and propping himself up on his elbows, looking down at you. His eyes, still clouded with the afterglow, held a tenderness that made your own heartache in the best way possible. He reached out, his thumb tracing the curve of your bottom lip.

“Are you... Alright, my love?” he whispered, his voice a little rough, a hint of concern in his gaze. He always checked. He always made sure you were okay, even when he was completely lost in the moment. It was a subtle, natural care that had always been one of the things you loved most about him and something you had desperately missed.

You smiled, a soft, content smile. “More than alright, San,” you murmured, reaching up to cup his cheek, feeling the slight stubble beneath your palm. “Perfect rather.”

A relieved sigh escaped him, and he leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good,” he breathed, the word filled with sincere relief. He rolled off you, but only to lie beside you, pulling you immediately into his side. Your head rested on his shoulder, your leg thrown over his, your bodies still connected by the lingering warmth and the unspoken intimacy.

The city lights still filtered through the blinds, casting faint, shifting shadows on the ceiling. You were both quiet, simply existing in the shared space, in the aftermath of something raw and powerful. You felt a wave of conflicting emotions wash over you—the lingering resentment for the life your grandparents had dictated, the sharp pang of regret for the time lost, and an overwhelming surge of pure, unadulterated contentment in his arms.

“I missed this,” you whispered, the words barely audible, a confession that tasted like freedom on your tongue. “I missed you.”

He tightened his arm around you, pulling you even closer. His lips brushed your hair. “I missed you too, more than words can say,” he murmured back, his voice thick with emotion. “Every single day; It was hell without you—even though I can sense that you hated me to death. I know you.”

You sighed, burying your face deeper into his shoulder. The fragile peace was here, in this bed, with him. The outside world, the demands of your family, the future they had planned—it all felt distant, a problem for another day. For now, there was just this. Just San. And the undeniable, aching truth that you were exactly where you belonged. You felt his breathing even out, a soft snore starting to rumble in his chest. He was falling asleep, utterly relaxed in your embrace. You closed your eyes, letting the exhaustion and the profound contentment wash over you. For the first time in a long time, the insistent echoes of his memory were not tormenting you but lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

#ateez x reader #ateez smut #san smut #san x reader #san x you #san choi #choi san #female reader #fem reader #dom reader #i dont know what im doing

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yanderemommabean · 21 days ago

Note

You did not in fact hear the last of the yandere opener and headliner, I just passively kept them in my brain with vague scenarios that weren’t worth sharing but now that has changed because I got tickets for a show in that same venue with a band that has similar vibes to them and now it’s gone from “What if they took me with them on their bus that night” to “What if they missed their chance and now have been staking out the rock shows in the city in hopes of finding me again.” (Also I felt I didn’t give the the headliner the attention he deserves so this is my apology to him.)

The two of them both simmering together in their want for me for months, resulting in them being a little more cooperative than they would be otherwise. They spent the rest of the tour picking up groupies that bear some resemblance to me to take the edge off, but they know they won’t be satisfied with cheap knockoffs. The only information they know about me is the name I gave to the opener when I met him at the merch table and the fact that I seemed to really enjoy their type of music. The headliner uses his connections to keep an eye on the reservations for as many rock shows in the city he can, and when the opener confirms one particular name as mine, they know they’ve hit the jackpot. And better yet, they have a few months to plan. They’ve waited this long, what’s a little more?

Day of the show, there I am by myself at the front of the line, scrolling though my phone as I wait for the doors to open. When I get a sense that someone’s standing near me, who do I see but the opener, who seems just as pleasantly surprised to meet again. We pass the time chatting away, with me none the wiser to the headliner behind the closed doors setting everything into motion. A little threat to security should they get in the way, a little bribe to the bartenders to look the other way should something wind up in my drink. By the time the crowd starts to pour in, he’s already taken his seat in a dark VIP table in the corner, watching me strut in with the opener’s arm slung around me.

Is he a little jealous that he doesn’t get to be the one cozying to me during the show? Absolutely, but he can begrudgingly admit that the opener was the one who built a rapport with me last time and is the ideal distraction. Less impulsive, less recognizable, less threatening. The fact that he was promised that I’d be bunking with him that first night if he let the opener have his fun tonight definitely didn’t hurt his resolve.

On his end, the opener’s on cloud nine from the moment I greeted him with a smile. With no barrier or merch table between us, he can smell my perfume, feel the heat radiating off my skin, hear every little giggle as he chats me up. It’s taking every ounce of his self control not to just pull me into a dark hallway and devour me, but he knows all good things come to those who wait. So he flirts and he dotes, taking in every word I say like it’s the new gospel, breaking down my walls bit by bit. As we stroll inside, he leans in to give me a quick kiss, saying he’ll be right back with our drinks and leaving while I’m still too flustered to object.

I don’t buy a single one of my drinks all night. Every time I start running low, there he is with a refill and an innocent smile, even as I tell him I should slow down, feeling dizzy and lethargic by the third drink. He coos that he’s seen me drink more than this before, I can handle more, he knows I can. Before the band performing that night has even completed their sound check, I’m wasted and incoherent, and just a little afraid as I finally pick up on how weird it really is seeing a man who lives a few hundred miles from this city again. Not that it does me much good as I collapse into his arms, the last thing I see being his eyes, gleaming with emotions I don’t want to think about.

For a second he holds me and just looks at me, moving some of my hair out of my face as he considers my unconscious form. It would be so easy to call off the deal, to snatch me away for his own fun. He wouldn’t even have to restrain me. I’d look so pretty, laid out on his bed for the taking, unable to protest or fight back. Just as he really starts to consider it, the headliner is there to grab his arm and start pulling him toward the fire escape. It’s for the best. The headliner would be insufferable if he felt cheated, and besides, it wouldn’t be half as much fun not getting to hear me cry and moan for him.

As I start to stir, the first thing I process is a tight pressure around my waist and a warm body behind me. Instinctively, I begin to shift and tiredly tug at my unknown restraint, only serving for it to get tighter as a low voice chuckles in my ear making the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “‘Bout time.” My faculties properly returning, the panic quickly takes over my mind. Before I can get more than a quick thrash in, however, the arm around my waist pulls back and two strong hands grab my wrists, rolling me onto my stomach with a heavy weight pinning me down. It’s only as I’m forced into such a vulnerable position that I become starkly aware of my missing clothes. The stranger on top of me is slowly rutting against my ass, a prominent clothed hardness pushing into my skin in teasing, exploring motions. A deep groan of satisfaction comes from above me. “Fuuuck, you feel just as good as I’d imagined you would under me.” A particularly insistent thrust draws a whimper from my throat, and I feel the hands around my wrists tighten in barely contained excitement. “Maybe even better.”

My wrists are released, the man on top of me still planted too firmly on me for me to get more than a few squirms under him. My blood runs cold as I hear first the sound of a shirt being discarded somewhere in my periphery, and freezes solid at the unmistakeable sound of a belt coming undone. My struggle renews, but my arms are grabbed once more, yanked behind my back and secured together with the tight leather. Tears of confusion, fear, and humiliation begin to pour from my eyes, but all they get me is a condescending pat on the shoulder blades as I feel his hot cock now push directly against me, a hiss of pleasure slipping through his teeth. Not even bothering to get fully undressed, I feel the teeth of his jeans biting into my thighs as he slides his dick back and forth across my cunt, the head rubbing against my clit over and over again as I close my eyes and try not to think about how good it feels.

As he feels my cunt get wetter with every push against my sensitive bundle of nerves, the headliner can feel his mind go more and more blank. He’d dreamt for so long about what this pussy would feel like cupping his dick and none of those fantasies measured up to the real thing. Unable to hold back anymore, the hand that isn’t holding my arms hostage reaches down to adjust his angle, pushing directly against my hole. The reaction is immediate. My struggles renew yet again, panicked cries begging him not to do it, to let me go, but he’s barely even registering my words as he thrusts into me, his head finally consumed by the wet warmth he’s craved for months. He can’t help the deep groan that comes out overtop my pitiful crying, nor can he help the automatic push of his hips to force more inside of me, stretching me painfully as he sinks deeper and deeper.

When he finally gets all the way down to the hilt, he stops for a moment, panting, appreciating the sigh before him. My pretty makeup for the show smudged into his pillows, my shoulders heaving with painful sobs, my wrists still pushing against their restraints in hope of freedom. He’s never seen something quite so beautiful. One of his hands gently glides across my torso, taking in every curve as he gives my body a chance to adjust. His hand finally comes to rest firmly on my shoulder as he leans down until I can feel his hot breath against my face. His low, vaguely familiar voice murmuring empty platitudes into my ear, urging me to just relax and let it happen as his hips begin to stir in impatience.

Tired of waiting for me to hurry vu and accept him, the headliner pushes himself back up, gripping the belt tight and holding my hip as be begins to rail me into the mattress. Months of longing, of desperation, of frustration all coming out as once as he drives into my cunt, slamming into my g-spot again and again. I can’t even hold onto the mattress to ground myself, fingernails cutting into my palm as I try not to lose myself in the feeling. As I bite down my moans and whines, above me, he openly groans and rambles. “God, such a good tight little pussy. Knew you’d feel good, but holy shit, baby. You’re fucking divine. Taking me so fucking well, this is what you were born to do, huh?”

Between the filth spewing from how mouth, the thick cock pounding my insides, and my clit rubbing against the sheets with every rock of his hips, I never stood a chance. I cum within a minute, screaming into the pillow, body tensing and writhing as the high takes me over. Throughout it all, he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow. No, all he does is let go of my hip in favor of grabbing my hair, yanking my face up from the pillow. For the first time, I finally get a good long look at the stranger treating me like a living sex toy, and if I wasn’t already high off the nonstop waves of overstimulation, I’d have screamed again in horror at the sight of the renowned musician grinning down at me with a mad, loving gleam in his eye. “That quick, huh? Oh, we’re gonna have SO much fun with you.”

Across the hall, in his own bedroom, the opener lays back in bed, serenaded by the sounds of me crying in pleasure from the other side of the apartment the two had rented. While he regrets not taking me when he had the chance, he can’t deny the sounds of me being thrown over the edge over and over made for beautiful music. His own dick twitches from the confines of his boxers, but while he lazily palms over it, he decides against fully taking care of it.

After all, tomorrow is his turn, and he’d hate to spend that energy before the main event.

AAAHHH!!!! YES YES YES YES YES!!!! I love your brain!!! ugh I'm so addicted to how you describe things too, the way they grunt and taunt, how they roughly yank on the belt, how the zippers press against you- This was amazing!!!!

100/10 eating this again and again and again and again and again and again and-

-Mommabean

#yandere imagines #yandere scenarios #mommabean #yandere headliner #yandere band #yandere dubcon #yandere noncon #dubcon tw #noncon tw #yandere opener #poly yandere #ish #yandere male #yandere x you #anon confessions are amazing #anon asks

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ham-st4r · 2 years ago

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𝙲𝚑𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 - 𝙻. 𝙷𝚎𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚞𝚗𝚐

Pairing: heeseung + female reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, dirty talk, cursing, cum eating, blow job, multiple orgasms, angst, pet names, daddy kink, breeding kink, reader and hee have sex in a classroom.

Summary: heeseung is still determined to get into your pants after months of “wowing” you and showering you with gifts and compliments. He’s successful all, though his charm isn’t exactly what makes you say yes to him. It’s more for you and the fact that once you finally give him what he wants, he can finally leave you alone once and for all.

Wordcount: 2,328k

Note: I am finally getting over this sickness, so I thought I might just give you guys a lil sum sum hope you enjoy!

Find your way around!

“Hey beautiful,” Heeseung approached you at your locker door like he was just the sweetest, nicest guy on earth.

He wasn’t.

He was just a horny guy that would do and say anything to stick his dick inside someone, and that someone just happened to be you. For the last couple of months, he’d come up to you, giving you flowers, buying you candy, sweet talking to you, even going as far as to compliment you when you got new nails or a new hairstyle. It sounds flattering, and any other time it is, but because it’s lee heeseung with a manwhore with a bad reputation, it’s not flattering, and if anything, it’s disgusting.

“Thank you, heeseung,” you say in a sing-song tone while shutting your locker and getting ready to leave school for the day.

“You’re welcome, baby. I bought this for you.” he drops a little piece of candy inside your blazer pocket, standing a little too close, trapping you between his body and your locker. If he’s doing that to try to turn you on, it’s definitely working cause no matter how much of a douche he is, he’s still incredibly fucking hot. “You’re so pretty all the time. Can barely keep my eyes off you.” he grips your chin, tilting your head so you can look up at him while stroking your cheek with his thumb.

Instead of telling him to fuck off like you usually do, you played into it this time just for the fun of it. “Just wanna be pretty for you, Daddy” You blinked your lashes at him innocently, and he cursed under his breath, imagining you looking like that under him while he stuffed you full of his cock.

“Baby, you are so pretty.” he leaned down, giving you plenty of time to stop him, and when you didn’t, he placed a gentle kiss on your cheek. “Such a good girl getting all pretty for your daddy. I think you deserve a reward for that, don’t you?”

You reached your hand down, placing it on his cock, and you were surprised when you felt how hard he already was. “Please, Daddy,” you pouted, stroking his length up and down through his baggy blue jeans.

He didn’t show it, but he was in shock. Was he really gonna get a taste of you? After months of you rejecting and him trying to get at you, you were gonna let him have his chance just like that? Don’t get him wrong. He wasn’t complaining. He’s been wanting it for so so long. “Fuck baby, daddy’s going treat you real good.”

“You promise, Daddy?” You give him puppy eyes and a soft voice, watching him lose all his self-control by the second.

“Promise,” he moans when you squeeze him through his jeans. He ducks his head down, kissing on your neck. You knew you shouldn’t give your body to him but fuck it, he was hot. You heard he had a good dick game, and plus, after this, he’d leave you alone, so it’s a win-win. “Come on, little one time for your reward.”

He took you by your wrist, leading you to a vacant classroom. He quickly sat down in one of the many empty chairs. “On your knees for Daddy,” he smirks when you obey, lowering yourself onto your knees. He wonders what changed before you acted like you’d never give him the time of day, and now you’re willingly on your knees unzipping his pants and pulling his cock out of his boxers, but he really didn’t care what’s changed all that matters was your hand wrapping around his girth as you pump him slowly. “Hmm,” he groans, his hand going straight for your hair as he pushes some strands behind your ear. “You like it?” He whispers softly as you admire his fully hardened length that is dripping sticky precum.

You moaned. His dick was so pretty and pink. “yes, Daddy, so big” You looked up at him, eyes blinking innocently as you took in all of his inches, hollowing out your cheeks and breathing through your nose as you started bobbing your head the wet smacking sound’s immediately bouncing off the classrooms walls.

“Fuck you’re taking it so deep already” he spread his legs open further, and he couldn’t resist the urge to buck his hips a few times, gagging you with the tip. “Oh shit,” he gripped the back of your head, pushing down lightly to set a good pace. “That’s daddy’s good little princess.” he throws his head back, eyes closing shut while you continue pleasuring between his legs.

You put your hands on his thighs, squeezing them every time you gagged on his enormous cock.

Your moans reverberated all through his shaft, making everything feel so much more pleasing. “Faster,” he whispers, searching for his release as his cock drags along the length of your tight wet throat.

Your eyes began to water, and he simply swiped away the tears blurring your vision, continuously fucking his cock down your neck. “Almost there, pretty, doing so good, daddy.” All the other times he called you pretty or beautiful, it did absolutely nothing for you.

But you can’t say the same for right now. The rough hoarseness of his voice made you feel something in your lower tummy. Hearing him call you that while moaning and grunting was so attractive and embarrassingly enough, you could feel yourself leaking down there already.

“Fuck baby, how do you make it feel so good,” he says in awe this was by far the best head he’s ever received from anyone, and he was about to cum in record time. “Cumming baby,” he says through strained moans. His hips jerk up off the chair more than just a few times as his cum spurts out in white hot ropes. “Fuck yes,” he grits through his teeth while you keep sucking even after he comes, his body shuddering in bliss.

You savor the taste of his salty cum, and to you, that was the best reward you could have ever gotten.

He helped you off the ground, guiding your wet, messy core to sit on his lap. “You liking the reward so far?” he messily kisses your lips, the taste of his cum still lingering in your mouth, turning him on even more.

“Hmm, yes,” you said in between kisses.

“You’re gonna like it even more real soon” He reached between your bodies, pulling up your little skirt and pushing your soiled panties to the side so you could sit fully naked on his dick. “This pussy is so wet” he slides you back and forth on his cock, lubing himself in your arousal.

You moan into his mouth shamelessly, your body moving on its own as you hump his naked cock for some friction. “Please put it in” Your mind is spinning just from the feeling of his cock brushing against your clit. You’re so needy, so desperate for his cock that you don’t even need any prep to take him inside cause you were literally soaking.

“You sure you’re good? We only just started, princess” You bury your face in his neck, inhaling his cologne as you mumble out a tiny yes, slightly embarrassed by how wet you got just from sucking his dick. You could literally hear the sticky sounds your conjoined bodies made, and it was not discrete at all. “Okay,” he says breathlessly as you kiss and suck on his neck.

He pushed down on the base of his cock, pressing the tip on your entrance. “Up,” he commands, and you lift yourself up slightly while he lines you up perfectly. All you have to do now is sit down, and you’ll be stuffed full of him. “Down,” he breathes out, preparing himself to feel your sweet wet pussy.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you wrap your arms around his neck, your legs trembling from the feeling of him being inside of you.

“There you go.” he kissed your temple as you sat down on him, and it felt like he was in your stomach. That’s how full you felt. “That’s it,” he sighs in pleasure.

“Heeseung,” you mewl, biting softly on his neck while slowly bouncing on his dick.

“Fuck ride it just like that” he spanked your ass, the sting making you clench tighter on his dick. “So fucking warm,” he grunts, hands squeezing your tight little ass helping you ride him.

Your brain was empty. The only thing you could focus on was his warm throbbing cock going in and out of your slick pussy so perfectly. “Oh my god daddy.”

“You like daddy’s cock, huh baby?” He whispers in your ear, breath heavy with lust as he sticks out his tongue, lapping at the shell of your ear.

You respond by standing on your tippy toes, gaining a better angle to ride him faster now, the sounds of your thighs colliding with his enter the room along with the rest of the lewd wet sounds your bodies produce. “Hmm, mmm fuck it just like that, there you go, bounce on that dick, princess” You pursed your lips, eyebrows furrowed as his tip burrowed itself deep in your cunt, and you don’t ever want him to pull out. You want his thick cock buried to the hilt inside you forever. He just felt too good for your kind to comprehend.

“Yeah? Like that daddy?” Your moans sound like they’re straight out of an adult film, and the way his cock twitches lets you know he’s feeling good.

“Yeah, just like that,” he grunts, one hand moving from your ass to your neglected clit, circling it so you can cum relatively close together cause he knows he gonna cave before you, and he can’t help it. Your pussy feels like magic. “Look at it” he smirks lazily and looks down to where his cock is splitting you right in two, and the sight is definitely one to see. You lowered your head, your forehead brushing against his as you see the filthy creamy mess between your bodies. “Daddy’s gotta cum, princess,” he whispers and searches for your lips, connecting them in the sloppiest kiss exchanging obscene amounts of saliva as you groan into each other's mouths like you just can’t get enough, and you really can’t cause it feels so good too fucking good for it to be over seconds later you spill around him gushes of your arousal coating his thick juicy cock while he spills inside you filling you up until there’s nowhere left for it to go except out of your clenching stretched hole.

He unexpectedly lifts you up effortlessly, laying you down on the table in front of him so he can fuck up into you and stuff you full of his cum, breeding you the way needs to his lips, never leaving yours for a second and no wonder why there’s so many rumors about him being good in bed because he is he so fucking big and so good this was literally the best sex you’ve ever had. “FUCK!” he breathes out, finally breaking the kiss and opting to nibble on your neck instead while he catches his breath because, wow, that was some really good fucking mind-blowing sex.

His thrusts come to a gradual stop, a few little whimpers and moans coming from the both of you as you fight to catch your breaths.

Neither of you two say anything while you gather your thoughts. When he turns soft, he slips out of you, his cum immediately running down your thighs, and you flush with embarrassment. His ears burn from the sight as he pulls his pants back up.

He looks around the room for something to clean you off with, but there’s nothing, so without much thought, he drops to his knees, tongue darting out to lick up the stream of his and your cum.

You gasp when you feel his hot tongue running along your thighs. He chuckles softly. You could barely comprehend what was actually happening, and before you knew it, he was pushing your panties back to their original spot and straightening out your skirt after his method of cleaning you up.

He stands up, licking his lips with a small smirk on his face. “All clean,” he smiles, quirking his brow. “So..” he placed his hands on your waist. “How about you let daddy take you out? Hmm, princess, what do you say?” He usually never even thought about dating the girls he hooked up with, but you, oh, he definitely needed to have you again and get to know you because, damn, you have the best pussy and mouth he’s ever felt, and maybe he felt a little something different with you than all the rest.

He goes in for another kiss, and you place your index finger on his forehead, pushing him back. “Not a chance,” you laugh straight in his face. His hands drop from your waist, and his smile soon drops as well.

He may have had a nice face and an ever nicer dick, but he was still a douche, one that you’d never find yourself ever getting involved with.

You make your way out of the empty classroom, blowing him a kiss on the way out, leaving him confused and speechless at your blatant rejection.

He wasn’t used to being rejected, given he hadn’t had a real relationship or ever even asked anyone out, and if he was being honest, it didn’t feel too good. He’s usually a confident guy, and he thought he looked fairly decent, so he assumed you’d say yes to him. Plus, you seemed to enjoy his company, but apparently, not that rejection was a little harsh, especially on his self-esteem, but he put that in the back of his mind. At least he got his one chance with you.

Permanent taglist🔖 @hoyeonheeseung @furious-eagle @heeseungssidechick @hee-pster

Thank you for reading. Please reblog and leave feedback. - 🐹

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supi-wupi · 22 days ago

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Practice Crush - Soonyoung

pairing: Soonyoung x reader synopsis: You’re the clumsy newcomer at his dance academy. Hoshi offers to help — and ends up falling for your determination, not your footwork. wc: 4.1k genre: Fluff, Slowburn (im sorry..), Slice of Life, (light) Angst, Diary Entries warning: Mutual Pining, Teasing, Food Mentions, Crushing so hard it hurts™(yes), Joshua helps out a/n: HAPPY BIRTHDAY HOSHIIII!!! hope you guys enjoy this one!!

13/03/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

Today was my first class at Polaris Dance Academy. I almost ate the floor during warmups. Twice.

Everyone here moves like they’re made of music — smooth, confident, in control. And then there’s me.

Flailing like a baby giraffe on a sugar rush.

The worst part?

I tripped over my own shoelaces right in front of Kwon Soonyoung. Hoshi. As in Polaris’ golden boy. The living embodiment of rhythm.

He smiled.

Helped me up.

Said, “Careful. The floor bites if you’re not nice to it.”

And I laughed, like an idiot.

I think I might have a crush on him.

No.

I definitely do.

—

14/03/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal (Hoshi)

Note to self:

New girl in Level 1 contemporary — name tag said “Y/N.”

Tripped mid-turn. Landed on the floor with her arms flailing like she was in a cartoon. It was kind of impressive, actually.

She looked so embarrassed.

I offered her a hand, told a dumb joke about the floor biting. She laughed like it was the funniest thing ever.

Cute laugh. Big eyes.

Looks like she tries really hard. Like… really hard. I respect that.

Might offer to help her after class. I remember what it felt like to be the one always behind.

Plus…

She has this determination in her eyes.

It’s kind of magnetic.

—

17/03/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

So I stayed after class to practice the transition into pirouettes — the one that always makes me feel like a broken spinning top.

And guess who stayed too?

Hoshi.

He asked if I wanted help.

ME.

I said “sure” so fast I think I accidentally bowed twice.

He adjusted my arm position gently, told me to breathe, not hold so much tension in my shoulders. I nodded like I understood any of it, then spun straight into the mirror.

He didn’t laugh.

He just said, “Okay, we’re gonna try again. This time, you trust yourself.”

No one’s ever said that to me before. Not like that.

I think I might cry.

Or spin again.

Or both.

—

17/03/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Y/N stayed late again. She’s really serious about improving.

She’s still clumsy, but there’s something alive about the way she moves when she forgets she’s nervous.

Her turns are off balance, but her passion is dead center.

I told her to trust herself.

She looked at me like no one’s ever asked her to before.

We practiced for an hour.

I forgot how fun it was to teach someone who actually listens.

And when she finally did a clean double spin — the way her eyes lit up…

I don’t know.

I think I’m in trouble.

—

21/03/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

Hoshi called me his partner during class today when the instructor asked why we were always hovering around the corner of the studio.

Partner.

Okay, sure, he meant practice partner. But STILL.

Also, he tied my shoelaces for me before warm-ups. Who does that??

(Angels. That’s who.)

He even remembered I like peach tea.

He brought me one after practice and said, “Fuel for your spins.”

What am I supposed to do with that kind of sweetness??

Melt???

Because I did.

—

22/03/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Y/N nailed her turn sequence today. She actually shouted, “YES!” in the middle of the studio and scared half the room.

I was so proud I high-fived her — maybe a little too hard — she nearly fell again.

This girl is chaos. Endearing, determined chaos.

Brought her peach tea again.

She called me “Dance God Hoshi” and I think I blushed.

Not sure if she notices how I keep watching her when she’s not looking.

Not sure if she knows how proud I am every time she gets a step right.

Definitely not sure what to do about the fact that I want to hold her hand next time I fix her arm position.

But maybe…

Maybe one more practice together. Then I’ll tell her.

—

28/03/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

Today, I didn’t trip.

Not once.

Hoshi said, “Look at you, not kissing the floor!”

And I said, “Maybe the floor and I are on speaking terms now.”

He laughed.

Then he asked if I wanted to grab snacks after practice. Just the two of us.

I think I said yes.

Or nodded?

I might have squeaked.

We’re meeting tomorrow.

He said, “Consider it a reward for surviving your first week without face-planting.”

But I think he meant something more.

Or maybe I hope he did.

Either way…

I’ll wear my best shoes.

The ones that don’t come untied.

—

29/03/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

So… I didn’t die.

The snack date happened. It was real.

We sat outside the corner convenience store with triangle kimbap and those honey butter chips he swears by.

It wasn’t fancy.

It wasn’t a date date.

But then he said, “This is nice. I don’t usually get to slow down like this.”

And he looked at me.

Not his phone. Not the street. Me.

I told him he deserved to rest too.

He smiled. That soft one he usually saves for right after practice when the sweat’s still clinging to his hair.

He said, “You always say stuff that sticks.”

My brain short-circuited. I just nodded and shoved chips in my mouth like a gremlin.

But I think… I think I’m falling.

Or already there.

—

29/03/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Snack date with Y/N today.

She called it a reward, but honestly, it felt like a reset button for my entire week.

We didn’t talk about dance. We just talked.

About our favorite snack combos. Our worst auditions. Her fear of elevators.

She told me she never expected someone like her to belong at Polaris.

I wanted to shake her.

How does she not see what I see?

The way she lights up when she’s proud of herself?

The way she makes even messing up feel… joyful?

I wanted to tell her she belongs everywhere.

But instead I said, “You’re the best part of my Tuesdays.”

She choked on her soda.

Worth it.

—

02/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

Today, I caught him staring.

During warmups, of all things.

I wasn’t doing anything impressive. Just a side stretch, halfway to a cramp.

But when I glanced up, he was already looking — like he forgot he wasn’t supposed to.

He smiled. Didn’t look away.

And I swear, my heart did a fouetté.

After class, he walked me to the bus stop even though it was raining and he had his own rehearsal to get to.

No umbrella. Just hoodie hoods and shared space.

He said, “Tell me when you get home, okay?”

Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like he wants to keep me safe.

Like maybe… I’m not the only one falling.

—

02/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Rainy day.

Y/N smelled like clean laundry and lemon candy.

Not relevant to dance notes, but I don’t care.

She’s getting better. Her spins are smoother. Transitions more fluid. I told her she looked strong today.

She blushed. Said, “I’ve got a good coach.”

Coach? God. I hope she doesn’t think this is just that.

I walked her to the bus. No umbrella. Didn’t care.

I watched her leave through the foggy bus window, and for a second, I thought:

I want this.

More snack dates. More shared jokes. More her.

But I don’t know how to say it yet.

So for now, I’ll keep spinning beside her.

Until I find the courage to fall.

—

05/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

Today, I almost said it.

It was after practice. Everyone else had left, and the mirrors were fogged from how hard we’d gone on the final set.

I stayed behind to stretch. He stayed behind just because.

He sat across from me, legs stretched out, holding a water bottle like it was the only thing grounding him.

He said, “You know… you make it hard not to look forward to class.”

And I —

I panicked.

I laughed. Like an idiot.

He smiled too, but it didn’t reach his eyes this time.

And I wanted to fix it.

I wanted to say,

“I think I like you.”

But my mouth said,

“Is it because I bring snacks?”

He played along. Of course he did.

But I saw the flicker.

The almost.

I think we’re both standing on the edge.

But I don’t know who’s going to jump first.

—

05/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

She laughed.

When I told her how I felt — or, well, almost did — she laughed.

And I don’t know if that was her way of running or her way of not knowing what to do with the truth.

I said, “You make it hard not to look forward to class.”

What I meant: You make it hard not to fall in love every single time you walk into the room.

She made a joke about snacks. I laughed too.

What else could I do?

Maybe I’m reading it wrong.

Maybe she doesn’t feel the same.

Or maybe she does, and we’re both just cowards.

But if I don’t say it soon, I think it’ll eat me alive.

—

07/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

He brought me a peach drink today.

Said he saw me looking at it last time but didn’t get it because I “hesitated too long like a dramatic film character.”

I told him I was being responsible.

He said, “You can be responsible after dance practice.”

He’s always taking care of me in these quiet, tiny ways.

Does he know he’s doing it?

Does he know I notice every time?

I didn’t laugh at anything today.

I just looked at him, held the bottle in both hands, and said,

“Thank you, Hoshi.”

His ears turned pink.

Maybe I haven’t missed my chance.

Not yet.

—

10/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

She tied my shoelaces today.

I didn’t ask her to. I was talking to Chan, sitting on the floor post-practice, and before I could notice — she just knelt down and double-knotted them.

Said, “You’re going to trip like this. Again.”

I said, “Maybe I want to fall.”

It came out before I could stop it.

She paused. Eyes flicked up to mine — that deer-in-headlights look she gets when she hears something she’s not ready for.

Then she smiled. Said, “Well, try not to fall around me. I might trip too.”

…what does that mean?

I’m going insane.

—

10/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

He said he wants to fall.

And I think I did. Right then and there.

Also: his laces were a disaster. Honestly, I might be in love with a walking health hazard.

But when he said that — when he looked at me like that — I could barely breathe.

So I made a joke. Again. Because it’s easier than saying,

“I already fell. You just weren’t looking.”

God.

How do people do this? How do you say something like that out loud?

—

12/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Snack date: secured.

I told her, “I owe you a drink for tying my laces.”

She rolled her eyes but agreed.

So now we’re going to the corner store tomorrow after practice.

Just us. No Chan. No mirrors. No excuses.

I think I’m going to wear my lucky hoodie. The one that makes me look less nervous than I am.

I won’t confess. Not yet.

But maybe I’ll hold the door open a little longer.

Maybe I’ll walk on the outside of the sidewalk.

Maybe I’ll try to make her laugh without hiding the way I look at her.

God help me.

—

13/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

We have a snack date tomorrow.

Well, not a date date.

It’s “payment for laces” apparently.

(But I know he didn’t actually care about that.)

I spent twenty minutes today picking out what hoodie to wear.

Then realized I’m just going to sweat through it in class anyway.

Still… I hope he notices.

I’m not going to confess. But maybe I’ll buy his favorite chips.

Maybe I’ll lean a little closer when we walk.

Maybe I’ll say his name without a reason, just to see how he looks at me when I do.

Maybe he’ll look back.

—

14/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

She waited for me outside the studio today.

Hood up. Hands in pockets. Hair still a little damp from practice.

I think I forgot how to speak.

We walked without music. Just the sound of traffic and our steps falling in sync.

At the store, she picked the seaweed chips I always grab — I didn’t even have to say it.

I picked her drink before she reached the cooler. She blinked and said, “How’d you know?”

I shrugged. “You always get it after evaluations.”

She looked at me like she’d never realized I was watching.

I wanted to tell her — I always am.

But instead, I asked if she wanted to sit at the bus stop across the street.

We did.

Didn’t catch a bus.

Just sat there. Sharing snacks.

At one point, our fingers brushed. I froze. She pulled back like it burned.

And then she apologized.

Why?

I almost said something. Almost asked if she felt it too.

But then the bus actually came, and we both stood up too quickly.

She waved goodbye. I waved back.

Neither of us left until the bus drove away.

—

14/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

She waited for me outside the studio today.

Hood up. Hands in pockets. Hair still a little damp from practice.

I think I forgot how to speak.

We walked without music. Just the sound of traffic and our steps falling in sync.

At the store, she picked the seaweed chips I always grab — I didn’t even have to say it.

I picked her drink before she reached the cooler. She blinked and said, “How’d you know?”

I shrugged. “You always get it after evaluations.”

She looked at me like she’d never realized I was watching.

I wanted to tell her — I always am.

But instead, I asked if she wanted to sit at the bus stop across the street.

We did.

Didn’t catch a bus.

Just sat there. Sharing snacks.

At one point, our fingers brushed. I froze. She pulled back like it burned.

And then she apologized.

Why?

I almost said something. Almost asked if she felt it too.

But then the bus actually came, and we both stood up too quickly.

She waved goodbye. I waved back.

Neither of us left until the bus drove away.

—

14/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

He remembered my drink.

He remembered.

I didn’t think he paid attention to things like that — but maybe he always has.

And he sat beside me. Not across. Right next to me. Our arms kept brushing and I couldn’t stop shaking.

Then our fingers touched.

It was barely anything. But it felt like lightning.

I pulled away. Like an idiot.

And he didn’t say anything. Just went quiet.

I wanted to tell him.

I wanted to say, “Don’t stop looking at me like that.”

I wanted to lean my head on his shoulder.

Instead, we both stood like strangers when the bus came.

We didn’t even take it.

We just… left.

I miss him and he was right next to me.

What is wrong with me?

—

15/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

She didn’t sit next to me during warmups today.

She always does. Always.

Today, she sat next to Jiwoo.

She didn’t even look over when I cracked the same joke she always laughs at.

I think I messed up.

Or maybe she’s just trying to play it cool.

Well, newsflash: I’m not cool.

I’ve never been good at pretending.

I keep replaying the bus stop in my head.

What would’ve happened if I didn’t let go?

—

15/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

I avoided him today.

Not because I wanted to.

But because if I looked at him, I might’ve blurted it all out.

Might’ve said: “I like you.”

“Not as a partner. Not as a classmate.”

Just —

“I like you.”

And I can’t do that. Not yet.

Not until I know he feels it too.

I think he does.

But thinking isn’t knowing.

And knowing means risking it.

And risking it means losing what we already have.

And I don’t know if I’m brave enough for that yet.

—

16/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Joshua was in the studio today, just hanging out while we cleaned choreo.

He leaned against the mirror, sipping iced coffee like he wasn’t quietly clocking every interaction I had.

And then, out of nowhere, he said —

“You two are exhausting.”

I blinked. “What?”

He nodded toward Y/N, who was across the room tying her shoes.

“You like her. She likes you. The rest of us are just collateral damage at this point.”

I opened my mouth to deny it. He raised a hand.

“Don’t even. I’ve seen the way you look at her when you think no one’s watching.”

I laughed it off. Said he was imagining things.

But he didn’t smile. Just tapped the lid of his coffee and said,

“You think you have time, but one of you is going to run eventually. Don’t let her.”

I’ve never seen Joshua that serious before.

Now I can’t stop thinking about it.

Is she already running?

—

16/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

I caught Joshua looking at me weird today.

Not weird-bad. Weird-like-he-knew-something.

And then he said the strangest thing when we passed in the hallway.

“You should talk to him. He’s more obvious than he thinks.”

I froze. Asked him what he meant.

He just smiled and walked off like a rom-com side character who knows he’s moving the plot along.

Joshua never says anything unless he means it.

And now I’m spiraling.

Because if he sees it… does that mean it’s real?

Does Soonyoung actually like me back?

Or am I just reading into things again?

I don’t know. But tomorrow… maybe I’ll test it.

Just a little.

Just enough to know if I should stop hoping.

—

18/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

Today was supposed to be a full group practice.

Except — when I showed up, only Y/N was there.

No Dino. No Seungkwan. No Minghao.

Just her, stretching by the mirror and blinking at me like she wasn’t expecting it either.

I checked my messages. The group chat said practice was pushed an hour.

Sent… by Joshua.

From my phone.

I nearly sprained something realizing it.

He must’ve grabbed my phone when I left it unlocked during warmups.

That little…

Okay. He’s not wrong.

Because now we were stuck in that cavernous studio, alone, with no music playing, just the faint sound of traffic outside and her laugh —

God, her laugh.

We talked. Not even about anything important.

What snacks we’d get after this. If sweet potato tteokbokki was superior (it is). Whether the backup dancers in that viral TikTok were dating.

It felt too easy.

Too comfortable.

Too much like something I want every day.

And then —

She looked at me and said, “Hey, can I tell you something?”

I swear to god I forgot how to breathe.

But then she bit her lip.

Laughed.

Said, “Never mind. It’s stupid.”

I didn’t press.

I should’ve pressed.

—

18/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Dear Diary,

Joshua is so sneaky.

Practice was moved — or so I thought.

Only Soonyoung showed up.

The rest of the team rolled in later, all pretending to be clueless.

I saw Joshua wink at me.

He planned this.

And I almost said it.

I really did.

I was going to tell him. Not the whole truth. Just something close.

Just, “I like hanging out with you.”

Or, “I always look forward to our snack runs.”

Or, “You make me feel like maybe I’m not crazy for hoping.”

But it got caught in my throat.

And instead I said, “Never mind.”

I hate how close it was.

He looked at me like he was ready to hear it.

Like he’d been ready.

Joshua gave me a window. And I shut it.

Why am I like this?

—

21/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

Joshua “accidentally” gave us the wrong directions to the café.

I know he did.

There’s no way that man confuses left with “just head down that alley behind the record shop and you’ll see it.”

Soonyoung and I ended up walking through half the neighborhood, wandering into a street market, sharing samples from a tteok stall like we were on a drama set.

We didn’t rush.

He didn’t even try to find the café after a while.

He just kept talking. Asking questions he already knew the answers to.

“Your favorite flower is still hydrangeas, right?”

“Wait, didn’t you say you hate mint chocolate?”

“I remember you said that song reminded you of summer. Why summer?”

He remembers everything.

And then, it happened.

We were standing under a cherry blossom tree near the bus stop. Pink petals caught in his hair.

I reached up to brush one off, and he grabbed my wrist.

Not hard. Just… held it.

He said, “Y/N.”

And then he broke.

Like he couldn’t keep it in anymore.

He said:

“I like you. Not as a friend. Not as a practice partner. I think about you all the time. I wait for your messages. I say dumb things just to make you laugh. I— I wasn’t supposed to say it like this.”

He looked terrified.

Like he thought I’d run.

I didn’t.

I couldn’t.

All I could do was whisper, “I know.”

And then: “Me too.”

He smiled like the sun came out.

And then the bus arrived.

We never even got to the café.

But I don’t think it mattered.

We got somewhere better.

—

21/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

I told her.

I actually told her.

I thought I’d explode.

I thought the petals falling between us were mocking me like, “look at this idiot, about to ruin everything.”

But she didn’t run.

She said “me too.”

I keep hearing it in my head. Over and over.

I said it messy. I said it nervous. I said it like a boy who's been falling in love quietly for months and finally hit the ground.

And she was already there waiting.

We didn’t even get our snacks.

But I don’t care.

She likes me back.

—

24/04/2024

Diary Entry – Y/N

He waited outside my studio with two bags of hotteok.

Didn’t even say hi at first. Just grinned and held them up like a peace offering.

Like, “Hi, I confessed my feelings under a cherry blossom tree, now take this pancake.”

We walked to the same park bench we always used to go to.

But this time, we sat closer. Shoulders brushing.

We still talked like before — about dance, stupid group chat memes, Seungkwan’s dramatic rants — but it felt different.

More deliberate.

More… ours.

He gave me the last bite of his hotteok.

He always used to fake-argue over who got the last piece.

This time, he didn’t. Just held it out and smiled like it was the easiest thing in the world.

When I wiped powdered sugar off his cheek with my sleeve, he went completely quiet.

Then he said:

“This feels like everything I didn’t know I was missing.”

And honestly?

Same.

We haven’t kissed yet.

But I think we’re building up to it.

And for once, I don’t mind waiting.

I’m not scared of slow anymore.

Not with him.

—

24/04/2024

Practice Notes – Soonyoung’s Journal

“First official snack date.”

That’s what I wrote in my planner. In all caps. Circled twice.

I showed up too early. Paced around the block. Almost ate the hotteok out of nerves.

She looked tired when she came out of the studio, but when she saw me, she smiled like I was exactly what she needed.

We sat at our bench.

And everything felt familiar but new.

Like we were rereading a favorite book, but suddenly noticing all the feelings between the lines.

She wiped sugar off my cheek and I almost forgot how to breathe.

I wanted to kiss her.

But I didn’t.

I just held her hand instead.

Small, simple.

But she squeezed back.

And that was enough to set my whole chest on fire.

We’ve danced through so many songs together.

But I think we’re finally learning this one — the one just for us.

Step by step.

Beat by beat.

masterlist ♪

#₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ supi ₊˚੭ #₍ᐢ..ᐢ₎ supi writes ₊˚੭ #svthub #seventeen #svt #kpop #kwon soonyoung #soonyoung x reader #soonyoung fluff #hoshi #hoshi x reader #hoshi fluff #svt fluff #seventeen fluff

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sizzleissues · 1 year ago

Text

Its May.

Okay so this is in the same AU I had last year its just changed and evolved while also being the exact same. Except now I have 15,000 words of it written, like 7,000 words of planning and lore and hours upon hours of research that I will be pointedly ignoring. Will be posting more stuff this month about the AU and my hopes and dreams for it

Also slight art improvement check? I’ll put their original mermaid designs below the cut.

It’s Marinette as a mermaid and … its not Adrien or Chat Noir but a third worse thing (Catwalker but in the purest manifestation of it being a curse and not who he wants to be) I will be making designs for mer!Ladybug, and mer!Adrien as its own thing later on.

Okay if you want to indulge me look below the cut

Old mermaid designs first. I am going to be talking about my design thoughts, thoughts and ramblings about this AU and what I’ve been up to. You have been warned

As you can see, some things have changed but neither design I hated, I just wanted to go further with it.

My brain is quite specific about mermaids and how I want them to generally look. I wanted to distinguish biological merfolk from transformed humans by having them being anatomically different. So Adrien has a vertical tail instead which is also way faster underwater. His transformation is quite distressing for him and very chaotic. Of course when he accepts it he’s not so raggedy.

Marinette similarly avoids her life as a mermaid by becoming human and I wanted her mermaid design to hint toward her fascination with humans. She wears a top she fashioned from human fabric she found in a sunken merchant vessel. In general all other merfolk either forgo clothes or wear things fashioned from materials available to them. There’s deep fear of humans and human things so even though human clothes are available to them (off dead bodies but…. Whatever) they choose to difference themselves as much as possible. The same taboos don’t exist for them and their bodies are already adapted from the temperature of their environment. Adrien has stray bits of netting and seaweed on him because he’s not exactly the best at controlling his speed and often crash’s through fishing nets and patches of seaweed resulting in stuff being caught on him.

A lot of their designs are still being worked but I’ve definitely pushed them the right direction!

On to the AU. You might have seem me cryptically talk about something I’m writing the past few weeks. This is because it’s been in my brain since last May and been on and off writing it since then. I decided I’d talk about it once May came back around but and then when I finished writing it, start posting sneak peaks and more spoilery art until it was fully edited and I felt confident in it to post with an aim for it to finish posting once May rolled around again. Oh god.

It’s set in the late 1700s in a fictional version of France that’s actually fragmented over a bunch of islands. I have done more fashion research than I ever thought I’d do and in the end we will still be taking creative license but know I do know what they actually wore! I ALSO did a butt tonne of research about sailing ships and turns out they are super complicated and now I know too much and yet too little still about them. It should be super fun and action packed if I can manage. Have some really good scenes already in my head I know you’ll love. We’re already three ships battle deep and I’ve only written four chapters. (It chills out for a bit after that)

This is entirely self-indulgent by the way. I’m writing this for me, you guys are just a bonus. I literally don’t care as long as it satiates my rabid need for the fic that only lives in my brain at the moment. Saying that, I do want to put my best foot forward.

The next thing I will be posting for this is their human forms and more blabblerings about that. For I am insane and all.

#miraculous ladybug #sizzle sketches #miraculous #miraculous fanart #ml fanart #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #mermay #mermaid au #Ml art

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tonguetiedraven · 8 months ago

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Rin was wrong about the Kyoto arc and most of you are too

But like Rin, you don't have to hold onto your assumptions.

With the slight resurgence in aoex popularity, I'm seeing a new rise in some fundamental misunderstandings about the characters and plot. I've been asked a lot of questions about a few certain characters over the years, and I've noticed that the base of the misunderstandings people tend to have with everyone originates in the Kyoto Arc.

What am I calling the Kyoto arc? Everything that happens in the second season of the anime and everything that happens after chapter 13 in the manga . (The point when the anime said let's go off and do our own wild thing and forget about the story and characters Kato is making! It'll be fun and totally not still be causing long lasting chaos over a decade later) and up to chapter 35. It's a 20 chapter arc, roughly. And honestly I think most of the manga exclusive Kraken arc should be included in the Kyoto arc because it is a direct continuation of Rin and Yukio's story line there, but I digress and we will get to that!

I am going to assume that you, the reader of this lengthy essay (I'm wordy and won't apologize for it, lol), are aware enough of the manga and Blue Exorcist to know that every episode in the first season of the anime after episode 16 is NOT CANON and does a poor job of depicting all the characters involved from Angel to Yukio. (There is no character with a Z, lol. So Yukio wins that role.) No one comes out looking correct in that. I know some people will argue that Rin is fine, but no. He is not similar to his canon hot headed, impulsive, loud, often violent/aggressive, and past avoiding self who would never have let his twin pull a gun on Kuro and would never have let Yukio leave after that without a fight. Sorry guys, they nuked him too. Just in a more pathetic victim way so people let it slide because he obviously needs to be protected from all the other meanies.

I am also going to assume you know character names. You can google them if you get confused ദ്ദി ( ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ )

Anyway, back on topic. I'm going to go heavily into the start of this arc and more broad as it goes on. The initial area is where most of the misconceptions start and they kind of carry through from then on meaning the entire rest of the arc and arcs there are a few flaws in the understanding of character motivations and reasons and some just basic plot stuff.

In chapter 13 of the manga, we get this tremendous clip

Just before this moment the exwires have found out that their classmate is not a human and is powerful.

You'll notice Shima leaning against the railing there. That's because he has a cracked rib and probably a concussion. Konekomaru is now sporting a broken arm, and Ryuuji got strangled out enough to be choking on blood. Shiemi was hypnotized and controlled and carried around like a possession by a demon king who tried to eat her eyes and kept taunting about making her his bride all while she was unable to move or do anything. There is not enough written about the truly terrifying kind of assault that is for the youngest member of their group, and that's without the tangle of a relationship Amaimon and Shiemi have in it.

It is vital that everyone take a second to think about that. Izumo and Takara were not there. They stayed in the camp. They didn't pursue Amaimon, Shiemi, or Rin. They chose not to fight or try to help. The Kyoto Trio did (because Ryuuji/Bon is impulsive and ran after Rin and Shiemi to help and the others followed him) and it took all of thirty seconds for the Demon King Amaimon to knock them all out without even really putting any effort into his attack.

They manage to get out of the forest and back to the pictured bridge with Yukio leading them out while the forest catches dramatically on blue fire. (Remember that the Kyoto trio grew up hearing about how much the blue flames of Satan destroyed their home and killed their family members. Their entire life was irrevocably changed because of blue flames.) And Rin and Amaimon are wildly fucking shit up. They even yeeted Mephisto who is a much higher ranking king.

All that leads to the Paladin appearing, Arthur Angel, who orders the exwires to be interrogated and checked by medics. (Honestly a step up for True Cross. They almost never remember medics.)

The Paladin appears and then Mephisto appears, and he has Rin in tow. Rin who is entirely feral and tries to lunge for the exwires. The traumatized exwires see Rin try and attack them with an entirely demonic face. They do not know anything about his story or Shirou or even ow he got here, but they can easily see that he's tied to Satan because of the flames and now he clearly wants to hurt. Hurt them.

Now in Rin's defense, he's not in his right mind. Mephisto sheaths the sword and the demonic part is forced to retreat and Rin passes out until he's slapped awake. At that point he's the Rin we know again (the exwires still have no idea what the hell is going on) and Angel takes him into custody. Rin looks over and sees his friends bloodied and bruised and sees Ryuuji with blood on his mouth staring with an unreadable expression.

It leads to this shot:

Question for the group: Who is Ryuuji asking this to?

Not Rin, that's for sure. It's Mephisto, in my opinion. Ryuuji is asking, quite understandably, why the hell the child of Satan was put in a class of ordinary students and why none of them were told about it. They just had a Demon King attack their class of exwires all of which were struggling against a simple moth and had to reseal it instead of exorcising it. A Demon King that attacked them because he wanted to do something to the son of Satan and they had no extra protection against that. Enough so that four of them are injured or traumatized.

(Also, if you get strangled do not yell and IMMEDIATELY seek medical help. There are a lot of terrible conditions and long lasting effects that can occur with strangulation.)

So at this point everyone is made to split ways. The exwires will get a small update from Yukio, and Rin will get put on trial for his life. Neither party knows what the other is aware of, and as far as we can tell, Rin does not remember that he tried very hard to lunge at and attack the exwires.

That does not mean that Rin did not lunge for and try to attack them. Not remembering trauma you caused someone else does not erase that trauma.

There is also this moment, and you best believe I am also here to defend Shiemi because she deserves it.

Go girl. You're so right. There's nothing funny about any of this. Not your abduction, not how assaulting that entire thing was, and not the fact that he was feral and that you're feeling like a lot of this is your fault. (And it was not her fault.)

Rin's defense in most bad situations is laughter and ignoring whatever the uncomfortable thing is. This rubs everyone around him the wrong way almost every time. And that's their right. I also truly think he doesn't know what he just did and doesn't remember much past drawing the sword and he's scared, and he's able to tell the vibes are bad and he's in trouble, but doesn't really get why/how. He is a bit (a lot) of an idiot and we love him for that.

Another vital thing to understand about Rin is that he sees the demonic and violent parts of himself as someone else. He is not that demon. He is not the guy that tore apart the forest, everyone is wrong. He didn't lunge after his friends, someone else did that. He isn't out of control of his flames, that isn't him. That demon with the flames and frightening strength and burning anger isn't him. They've got it all wrong. He's just Rin.

That is a big part of Rin's story. Rin accepting that he is all those things. He is the human and he is the demon and he is all the things that comes with both of those things. He is right and wrong and kind and cruel and caring and callous and gentle and dangerous. He is Yuri and Satan and Shirou's son, and he is complicated and trying his best and slowly learning to accept what he is and isn't.

Anyway, they split ways for a shitty night. Rin's is unquestionably shittier, but again, the rest of the exwires don't get told what the hell happened.

Anime only fans will already be noticing differences, but wait, there's a lot more that was missed/ skipped over.

The Kyoto trio are all at the hospital for the next few days and get a call about the temple having been attacked. Shima's dad and Ryuuji's dad were said to have been hurt in it.

This is the second hint we get that Ryuuji is not on good terms with his dad, and the mere mention of Kyoto visibly upsets him. That'll be important a little later.

Rin goes back to class with the girls but is pulled out by Yukio for his own individual classes with Shura before anyone can say anything. The cram teacher then explains the following:

The entirety of their school is giving them instructions on what to do if Rin goes wild because the exorcist and teachers all think he will go feral again.

Rin does not know they're getting this instruction.

We then see what Yukio told them is basically: Yeah, my twin has flames. I don't because I was too weak. I get tested daily for it. The koma (a nickname for Kurikara because you can't exactly go around calling a stolen sword by its name or people will catch on) sword sealed him. I don't know why we were allowed to live when True Cross has a very loud 'no Satan or Satan offspring allowed' policy. Kay, thanks, byyyeeeeee.

So no one is happy and no one really knows anything. Just Yukio who has always known everything and had the biggest emotional, responsible, and mental burden of everything about his brother. He was left holding the bag again. Responsible for a class he's the same age as, mourning his father whose death he doesn't know the full story of, responsible for killing his own brother if he goes feral, now ostracized even more by a community of exorcist he already didn't blend in with, and now made to bear all this. Yukio is a king for holding out for so damn many arcs without showing how bad his mental health was getting with all that stress.

At this point we see Ryuuji is placing the guilt for Konekomaru and Shima being injured on his own shoulders (Konekomaru tells him it was his fault that they were injured) and Shiemi is realizing that Rin became her friend as he was revealed and that she was never as much of a support or friend to either of them as she thought.

Meanwhile Izumo who, and I cannot stress this enough, did NOTHING in the fight and was not part of most of this and has at this point made NO effort to be friends with anyone past cleaning a shirt Rin loaned her, is judging all of them visibly.

A brief interlude of Toudou being a creep and Rin showing he cannot follow orders from absolutely anyone and making Yukio and Shura frustrated at how unpredictable and manageable he is, and we're now given the mission to go to Kyoto and help there.

Ryuuji is just so blatantly shocked and not okay with the assignment to his home. Like I genuinely don't think we have a shot of Ryuuji looking more shook and shit gets wild in this manga.

Ryuuji does not want to go back to Kyoto. He left on terrible terms with his parents and swore he would not return until he had his meisters and rank. He defied his parents in even going to the cram school and now he's being forced to return a bit busted up and long before he was ready. If you do not have a bad family dynamic, you can't really get how devastating this is, but try and imagine it. It's a tremendous source of stress and frustration for Ryuuji, and the main thing he's dealing with through this arc. He has a lot of history with his father ignoring and denying him and trying to control him, and it is not a healthy dynamic. THAT is what drives Ryuuji in this arc. Kyoto, the temple, and his father. It is NOT Rin. Rin is at the bottom of his list of things to be thinking about right now.

This is essentially Ryuuji's arc, and it is, quite simply, not about Rin for him. Rin becomes a part of it, but not until later. At the moment, it is Kyoto and the shame and frustration and resentment about that which is driving him forward.

Shiemi is melting under her own self loathing at this point. She is hating herself and has never been confident and always been prone to thinking poorly of herself, and shown she is unaware of when relationships are abusive with how severely Izumo bullied her and continues to bully her.

(And I could write another essay on how fucking misogynistic it is that everyone flocks to team Izumo when she's slightly nice to Rin and blatantly ignores the Shiemi abuse because well Shiemi is annoying anyway. Check yourself and ask why you feel that way if you do. Why is violence and cruelty okay against Shiemi? Why is it forgivable in her case but not in others?)

We all board a train to Kyoto and see each other for the first time. Rin has zero ability to ever read a room (we love him for it even if he will occasionally kill us with second hand embarrassment) and is acting like he didn't try to kill them on their last interaction and like everything is normal and there isn't a big and awkward elephant in the room taking up most of the train space.

THIS GOES DOWN DIFFERENTLY IN THE MANGA THAN THE ANIME. The manga stretches this scene out to give three characters very important breathing room while the anime cuts this far shorter and mixes up the dialogue some, muddying the motives.

Rin, not reading the room, sees Shiemi and calls out happily to her. Shiemi utterly freezes and can't decide how she should respond or what she should say. She has, as far as we know, never had a friend outside of her family and the twins. She doesn't know how to interact with them and she is drowning in guilt of failing them as a friend. A lot of that is because Rin said she wasn't his friend to the Kyoto Trio and because Izumo is always telling her she's failing as a friend and saying she doesn't like her. Izumo is a bully at this point. I will not back down on that point and will continue to reiterate it. You do her incredible arc a disservice to pretend otherwise.

That leads us to the confrontation:

Ryuuji does not show any sign of anger until Rin talks about Kyoto. Then it's instant grouchy face Grouchy face and grouchy boy until one of the other two interject and then he swallows all that Kyoto frustration right back down and stomps off to sit behind Rin with Konekomaru -- who has been given a talk by their superiors on what to do if their classmates loses his shit and goes feral on them and who lost his entire temple and family to the Blue Night -- voicing his worry about Rin losing control of his flames on a tiny train where there is no where to go.

Rin visibly deflates and sinks back on his chair Izumo, the drama queen who would deny being one, enters and sees. Now Izumo has conflicting reasons for her next act. She has been ostracized and bully quite a lot in her younger life, and that is part of why she is now an ice queen. She sees Rin and wants to help him feel better and is no more in the know of what the others are actually dealing with than Rin, and I dare say that was her first and primary motive.

However Izumo cannot allow herself to do something solely out of kindness to help someone. That is a weakness she will not allow herself and dangerous. Kindness and helping gets you hurt or killed by stronger parties and she has sworn off that in all cases but Paku. (No one quite knows what magic Noriko Paku possesses, but man does she, lol.)

So Izumo sits next to Rin and waits until after the debriefing about why they're here (meaning Ryuuji is now even more upset because yep, it's absolutely his temple and their miasma and their secrets and their weaknesses being discusses and revealed and flaunted) and they chat a little about the fact that lots of people have demon blood (*cough* FORESHADOWING *cough*) and then, after getting flustered about Rin complementing her and thanking her and getting buddy-buddy enough to use a nickname, she goes cruel and decisive and makes a pointed jab at Ryuuji, who takes it in stride for a moment, and then Shiemi, who visibly deflates thinking even less of herself and that Ryuuji does not take in stride.

Izumo did a kind thing in sitting with Rin, however, the others did not do a cruel thing by not sitting with him. They simply chose to give themselves a little space from a situation they were still struggling with. The cruelest one in the moment before she spoke was probably Konekomaru, and even he wasn't talking to Rin. He was nervous and scared and talking to his friends about Rin. None of them owed Rin anything. They did not owe him their time or space or attention. They are allowed to recover from their trauma and physical injuries while not having him constantly shove his over-excited puppy-energy self in their faces constantly and make everything all the more difficult for them while they try and reconcile that guy with the feral monster that wanted to take a chunk out of them and who was not in control of the flames they've grown up terrified of.

We see the story mainly through Rin's perspective, all the more so if you're an anime only, but that does not mean Rin is always an honest and reliable narrator. He is unaware he tried to hurt them and unaware of their own trauma. He can't imagine any of their actions and reactions aren't centering around him at this moment because Rin too is going through a lot of trauma and stress of his own that they don't know about.

What I find over and over again in this story is that people excuse any poor or selfish or cruel act of Rin's because of trauma and not being perfect, but they will not excuse it in any one else. This makes for a frustrating unfairness in expectations, and frankly, turns the story boring. If no one but Rin can make mistakes, or you choose only to see other's mistakes and not Rin's, you are robbing the characters and Rin of their complexity and growth.

Izumo was kind in sitting next to Rin, and she was purposefully cruel at the exact same time. This is who Izumo is. Kind and cruel for quite a long time. Brave and selfish. Confident and self conscious. Guarded while slowly falling in love and denying it every step of the way.

So the train ride immediately goes to shit and they get loud with Ryuuji calling her out (reminder, she can call them coward all day long but she did not leave the circle and didn't fight and has not stepped forward once in any of their missions to work as a group or fight until she had to)

And Shure (in the manga) wakes up and makes them sit in a different car of the train with bariyons on their laps as punishment. Konekomaru continues to stress, Ryuuji tells him to chill, Shiemi continues to hate herself, and Izumo continues to be purposefully cruel.

The bariyons get aggressive and one pins Shiemi to the ground. Rin does Rin and burns it without warning, freaking everyone out because wow! Blue flames are just suddenly everywhere. Ryuuji interferes because again, his temple was devastated by Blue flames and he has no reason to think they can behave differently and he is nothing if not determined to protect and help his team at all times.

Shiemi realizes Rin still has control of them and tells everyone to relax, and they do.

The flames are put out and Rin immediately attacks Ryuuji.

Rin demands trust and honestly, I could understand if he was unaware that he'd caused mayhem in the forest and tried to lunge for them, but if he was aware then he has to be smoking those flames of his because there is no reason to trust him at this point. He's lied (he didn't have a choice but they don't know that and reasons do not negate that a lie happened and we are now in the lies arc) and he has shown he is dangerous and that Demon Kings kind of follow him and will attack indiscriminatingly. (It's not like they know Amaimon is not allowed to kill them.)

Rin knows he won't hurt them and thinks that should be enough. No one else knows that they can believe this at this point. Ryuuji explains that Blue Flames have killed a lot of his people and that he can't trust someone who endanger his family. It is once again Kyoto he is thinking about and Kyoto he is worried about. They are on a train to Kyoto where Blue Flames destroyed a lot and now they're bringing the one guy with Blue Flames there and he keeps flaming up so it seems like what little he still has there is going to be devoured by flames.

Rin says basically, sorry that happened but it has NOTHING to do with me. This is a naïve thing to say and while technically right, is missing the point of what Ryuuji said. I can't trust you because you haven't shown me I can trust those deadly flames with you and they have absolutely devastated my home before.

The fight amps up more -- and again, Rin was the aggressor. They're both hot headed but he's the one that grabbed Ryuuji, not the other way around, and in a fairly close way to how Amaimon had grabbed Ryuuji and that can't be helping things. The fight gets louder and Konekomaru bravely intervenes and grabs both of their arms and tells them to stop. A bariyon choses that moment to cause chaos and try to kill Ryuuji and Shura has had enough and kills it but kindly doesn't kill the exwires for interrupting her nap twice over and the conversation is left entirely unresolved.

And for the next long stretch, they will not have that conversation resolved. They get back, Ryuuji is immediately accosted by his powerhouse of a mom, Torako Suguro who is pissed, and finds out that his dad has been absent and that things are going south fast in Kyoto.

From this moment on, Ryuuji will have one goal and that is to find his dad and save what few temple members he can. He wants to reunite his temple--that has always been his goal--and his dad's failure to lead and potential at being the traitor in their midst is causing what few of his sect are left to fracture even more. He is around Rin a few times in the next chapter, but his mind is never on Rin or their drama. He is wholly focused on Kyoto and the drama here.

This is where a lot of people misunderstand him. He is not avoiding Rin, he simply has a much bigger priority, as he should. This is his family and this temple is everything to him. We find out that Tatsuma has thrown their reputation in the mud and that he has caused a lot of their sect to abandon the temple, and that he has fought Ryuuji's hopes and goals every step of the way, and that he was the first to laugh at Ryuuji (which we know is an immensely traumatic memory for him) and that Tatsuma is actively working to avoid Ryuuji, and that he was at the Keep during the break in, and that several members of the Sect absolutely think Tatsuma is the traitor.

And if he isn't the traitor, then he is still failing them and running away from his duties. What's worse, we see a few of the sect (Mamushi specifically) even place some of the blame of the failure on Ryuuji.

Rin is seen working with the Kyoto trio on some kind of chore after they arrive, and actively being ignored and mistreated by the teachers. They absolutely deserve ire for the way they treat Rin like he's already gone feral and refuse to let him help.

Rin is being ostracized and thinks everything happening here is about him. He thinks the others are ignoring him and that they're upset about him. They're largely just... Not. Izumo and Shiemi are put on helping the large volume of patients and from what we see, Izumo doesn't chat with Rin again after the bus.

Shiemi sees this as a way to not let people down (she thinks she let everyone down in the forest. That it was her fault and she isn't good enough or strong enough or just enough to be their friends. Probably partly because the one friend she thinks she has is a bully.) and dives hard into work. She still doesn't know what to say to Rin and freezes up a lot.

That leads to a fantastic scene in chapter 18 with Izumo and Shiemi in the garden and Shiemi positively sobbing about being a useless friend and not being strong enough to help like she wants and Izumo telling her she's really strong and able to talk about friends and her emotions without getting embarrassed and that she's stubborn and strong as a weed and Shiemi, who has clearly not gotten enough praise in her life just glows and determines to be as strong and stubborn as a weed.

It's a vitally important moment for both these girls. Izumo is kind and doesn't turn it cruel and sees how strong Shiemi is and helps Shiemi see herself as strong too. Izumo has done a lot to break Shiemi down but she is also, arguably, the one that did the most to build her back up too.

She dives back into her work to the point she inspires Rin to try harder on his own training because he is lazy and she isn't, and he admires that.

At this point Shima has decided that to keep going on his own path in the laziest way he can manage that ignoring Rin was too much work so they're just going back to before and acting like nothing ever happened. Rin is drunk and insults him in this with the list.

Rin confronts Konekomaru later and finds out what happened to Konekomaru's family and Konekomaru begs Rin to leave Ryuuji alone because he is dealing with a lot of stress. Rin (correctly for once) realizes that Konekomaru will absolutely be his friend if he can show that his flames aren't a danger. If he puts in the work to get control of those, he can be friends. Rin goes off determined to do that.

Ryuuji and Shiemi are now the only two who haven't had their Rin moment, and they firmly busy in their own stuff. Rin still thinks they're avoiding him because they're mad at him and blaming him for the Blue Night stuff and they're simply not. At no point does he ever really seem to get that he's assuming stuff incorrectly about all this either.

Ryuuji does some not at all stealthy spying and follows Juuzou to the Keep to find most of the staff unconscious and gets himself in the middle of the theft of the Impure King's last eye. Mamushi betrays them to Toudou and states that it is because of Tatsuma that she is. That he has failed them as a leader and conspired with Mephisto by giving away the sacred relic of their temple (Kurikara) and letting the son of Satan have it.

She is not entirely wrong, and she is not entirely right. She is very wrong about Toudou, but they both escape to cause more havoc elsewhere and leave Ryuuji to finally catch up to Tatsuma.

We have been building for several chapters at this point that Ryuuji and Tatsuma do not have a great relationship. There is a lot of frustration and confusion and hurt in it. A lot of history and pain and Ryuuji is trying to get his dad to tell him anything. To deny the allegations if they're not true and do something to help with the fact that one of their members just left.

Tatsuma refuses to. We later learn why and it sucks, but it doesn't lesson the hurt in this moment. Being unable to explain something does not mean that your actions, justified or not, did not and do not hurt someone.

Ryuuji, seeing his dad turn his back on him without even a hint of an explanation to all the terrible accusations and all the pain and trauma around them, pleading for some kind of explanation to anything, plays the only card he has left.

His father has already all but disowned him for the cram school, so he returns that. He warns that if Tatsuma leaves now and like this, he might as well not bother to come back because Ryuuji will no longer (can no longer) consider him his father.

Rin, who has kind of snuck into this dramatic meeting, overhears this and has a violent trauma induced reaction.

Now, Rin has trauma and it is entirely understandable why hearing those words would make him react dramatically. That does not excuse the violence he reacts with. You enduring trauma and having triggers and painful emotions does not give you the right to inflict violence on someone else.

And inflict violence Rin very much does. Once again flaming up some too, not at all in control.

This was not Rin's fight to get in the middle of. I will die on the hill that others do not get to determine what a child can and cannot do in their own parent and child relationship. Others can offer opinions and advice, but they do not get to order or dictate the relationship. They are not part of it and cannot possibly know what it is actually like. This is the same sort of mentality that tells people who have had to make the immensely difficult choice to go no contact with a parent that they should try and make up because it's hard to be a parent like it's easy to be a child and under the parent's control and guidance. Ryuuji has a lot of reasons to have made that ultimatum, and while we will learn a lot more about why Tatsuma has failed as a parent and leader, the reason does not absolve or eliminate the failures. He has failed Ryuuji multiple times and at this moment, tied by a cruel fate, he has to fail and hurt him again.

He did not have to choose to do it this way though, and do not forget that.

And Rin knows nothing about their relationship. He is putting his own reactions and motivations on Ryuuji who does not have them.

Rin is in the wrong in this moment. I will not back down from that either. Rin hurt his friend and revealed himself, and in the next panels defied Shura and continued to try and fight Ryuuji and make him understand that you can't disown your father because you can't take that back--

And it is in this fight that Ryuuji is first made aware that when Rin talks about his dad, he has not been talking about Satan. Rin was raised by someone else. They still don't learn the real story yet, we're not really told when or if they do get the full story about Shirou, but you can see him realize something happened to whoever raised the twins, and it was bad.

Rin gets knocked out and arrested and Ryuuji is sent to ice his swollen face and he will have the injuries Rin inflicted on him here through the entire rest of the arc.

And I am now over 5k words so I'll try and wrap this up some. I'm going to have to post the Yukio half on another post xD

Rin gets a letter that tells him that Tatsuma and Shirou were in cahoots about the sword (look, Mamushi was partially correct) but that the sword did not have Karura in it like it was supposed to. He also finds out that Tatsuma wants him to kill the Impure King. Mephisto then shows up and locks him away giving him a death sentence. Yukio has to leave with that knowledge to try and stop the rising Impure King before he infects and kills all of Japan.

Tatsuma goes and shows that he had made a pact with Karura and that the Suguro line has always guarded the secret that the Impure King was kept sealed under the temple by Karura. That were he to be reunited with his eyes, he would rise again. Toudou wants to get Karura so he did all of this to get Tatsuma to reveal Karura.

Tatsuma is stabbed through the back of the throat and Karura mostly devoured, and the Impure King is rising and reforming and going to poison everyone.

Shura gives the letter to Ryuuji and Kurikara and offers the camouflage ponchos to go break Rin out if they want, and Ryuuji and Shiemi are the only two who do not hesitate for even a moment to go and rescue him.

The jail freezes them and gives nonviolent Shiemi a moment to shine. She confronts her own self doubts and goes to find Rin and coaxes him back out, showing she knows he won't be a danger to her by embracing him and his flames. She realizes that her fears and self loathing caused her to only think about her own emotions, and not how he was feeling (something Rin could also very much stand to do) and she immediately switches to comforting and encouraging him.

Rin busts the prison with style, Konekomaru says he's ready to be friends, Shima and Izumo state they're only here on Shura's orders, and

Rin still doesn't get it. He still has no idea what Ryuuji is dealing with or why he's upset about any of it. He has spent this entire arc trying to find his dad and trying to help the sect, and failing every step of the way. He has tried to help everyone around him in any way he can and show that he can be depended upon and trusted.

Rin has never opened up to any of them. Rin demands that they lean on him and listen to his advice and accept him entirely, and gives them nothing in return for that vulnerability and openness. He doesn't talk about his own life or emotions or thoughts. He keeps conversations light and easy and doesn't even tell them that he was raised by a guy that's now dead. He shoves himself in conversations and dynamics that don't concern him all the while demanding trust, and then will not let them in in return.

Ryuuji is seeing that so clearly now and it is hurting. How can you trust a guy who won't trust you back? How can you trust someone you thought was one thing who never showed you who they really are and still won't be open and real with you? Who has enough power at every moment to level half the world and is emotional and stupid and impulsive and won't be real with you?

Rin has been under a death sentence and told he had to keep his heritage a secret, but even outside of that, he really doesn't talk about himself. He doesn't open up to his friends like he expects them to open up to him. Neither brother is good at expressing themselves (and a lot of that is because they weren't raised to be that way. Shirou did his best but had a lot of limitations too.)

He demands they trust him wholeheartedly but will not trust them in return. Or he hasn't shown in any way that he does trust them.

This arc, at its core, is about lies and how those and trauma can and do make relationships messy. How even ancestral drama can go down the line and get us caught in cycles of it. But it also shows that we can do the work to get past them, and that it's messy and painful and loud and not always easy to see what's right and wrong while we do it, but we can get past it and move on together. We can make terrible mistakes and seek forgiveness and understanding and sympathy or empathy and try to do better. We can laugh in a field of disease and trust entirely on someone because we know we can even if the world is falling down around us and it doesn't make sense.

Neither Rin nor any of the exwires or Yukio are a villain in this arc. Even Mamushi and her cruel words and betrayal are not a villain in this arc. Everyone acts kindly and selfishly or in fright or confusion or in motives that are entirely misunderstood. They're all dragging their own emotional baggage with them and they're all getting tangled up and not listening, but they still strive on and strive to understand and talk it out when they can, because they care about each other and getting it right.

To act like it's as simple as "The exwires bullied Rin!" is naïve and robs Kato's story of so much richness and deprives the later arcs of so much character value she built starting here. Kato does a beautiful job of building all of her characters and giving them rich personalities and motivations and flaws and she shows us them through Rin sometimes, but she also gives them a lot of time without him at the forefront. She gives him flaws too, and a lot of wrongs, and that's why he's such a powerful and alive protagonist for our series.

You're free to dislike who you like and love who you like, but I do so encourage anyone who thinks the exwires were villains in this arc to really dive into the manga. Read through all the scenes and ask yourself why did Kato show that? Why is this character thinking that? Why did the character react that way? Kato gives us so much richness to dive into and to see so many people not do that and to take such quick and often incorrect or fragmented interpretations of the events is heart breaking and honestly robbing those people of a really good story.

Rin was wrong in assuming that everyone hated him and assuming that it was as simple as trust. He was wrong to try and force things and to try and force his own interpretations on others. It was only once he started to listen and hear what they themselves were saying that things got better. Now some of this is just the mess of the anime between season one and the start of season two, but a lot is just misinterpretation by the fandom. It can happen to anyone, but that does not mean it suddenly becomes factual because of that.

It's been at least six thousand words and I don't know if this came across as clearly as I wanted it to, but I hope it encourages those who haven't to dive in deeper. It's a rich arc with so many fascinating moving parts in it. I've barely brushed on Tatsuma, Juuzou, Mamushi, and Mephisto in this and their plots are all entirely interesting and add so much! Expect a Yukio and Izumo and possibly Shiemi follow up at some point, lol. Probably just as long though I'll try to be more concise.

If you read this far, thank you! You deserve to crash with the rest of the exwires in Toraya on a nice futon.

As always, look up my tag '#raven rambles' for more of my aoex meta and analysis.

#ao no exorcist #blue exorcist #rin okumura #ryuji suguro #ryuuji suguro #aoex #shiemi moriyama #izumo kamiki #kyoto arc #long post #essay post #raven ramble #raven rant #i could easily do another post this length on the second half of this arc #and a post on tatsuma himself #and five more on ryuuji #but i'm trying to keep myself at least a *little* contained xD

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bejeweledinterludes · 2 months ago

Note

when you're back from your break, it'd be really cool if you wrote headcanons about Dean raising Sam :) I feel like the fandom forgets that Dean is basically his dad sometimes and I think it'd be interesting to see how Dean acted like a dad at such a young age 😌 things he did, ways he protected Sam, idk, stuff like that :3

(obviously there's literally no pressure to write this, I just really love and respect your headcanons and style!!)

(p.s. just to make sure you know: in no way is this prompt related to Wincest 🤮)

ooo wait i love this omg and thank you for clarifying no wincest lol bc i will NEVER support or write about it. i hope i did your request justice, and thank you so so so much for your sweet words!

DISCLAIMER: this really should go without saying, but i’ll clarify it anyway in case anyone wants to think otherwise— in absolutely no way am i romanticizing or aestheticizing what sam and dean both went through as children or adults. while supernatural is a tv show, and sam and dean are fictional characters, real people and children experience domestic violence, neglect and abuse in the our world every single day. please do not read or interact if you are sensitive to these topics.

██████████████████████████

❝ long as i’m around,

nothin’ bad is gonna happen to you. ❞

OR my headcanons of dean being a single mom who works two jobs (aka raising sam while also raising himself)!

『 part 7 of @bejeweledinterludes’ headcanons series. 』

‧˚₊⋅ ──── faith’s tell-all. to everyone who’s ever shown my writing love / support, thank you to the stars and back— it means everything and more. also, i’ll be leaving again, perhaps for good. all i’m gonna say is that my thoughts / emotions aren’t doing good at all right now, and this app is the cause of it (for the first time ever). obviously, i don’t like feeling this way, and i certainly don’t want it to reflect in my writing / my actions on this app, so i’m probably gonna dip. i don’t really like talking about my feelings (in general, but especially on here) or asking for pity, so i’m not going to bother y’all with that. anyways enjoy this one, hopefully see ya soon <3

𖤐 ────────────────────────

> “protect sammy,” was the only thing dean remembers from his younger days for the most part. only thing he knew. i could delve into the absolute nitty gritty, the abuse, the hardships, the burdens that both sam and dean endured, but if i think too hard about it, i get mad— because no child should have to raise another child. ever.

let me be very clear on that, and this: most of the family dynamics in supernatural are not healthy by any means— but they are a reality for many, which is one of the reasons why people resonate with the show.

> now, throughout the show, we can see that dean is potrayed as somewhat of a father figure / guardian type— from regular children to monster children, to ben, jack, claire, kevin, etc. maybe more of a ‘fun uncle’ type situation, since he’s told kids (and thus, the audience) time and time again that he is not someone to look up to, or to become. which is a double edged sword.

because on the one hand, dean has a point: he’s self-deprecating, an alcoholic, has a temper, treats people like shit, and makes rash decisions that usually end in violence or a shattered bond.

but don’t think that’s everything. dean’s self-deprecating because that’s all he knows. and how the hell else would he treat himself? he’s an alcoholic because everyone that was around him drank when he was a kid— and the father figures in his life didn’t promote sobriety at all. he has a temper because when he can’t control things, that means he can’t control the outcome. he doesn’t know what’s gonna happen, and that’s why he gets so angry all the time. he treats people like shit, mostly because the ones he does treat like scum usually deserve it. the rest are because of his big stupid mouth. the rash decisions come from a place of pure panic, fear, and worry about his family— instilled in him since the night his house went up in flames.

now, all this to say, dean is a good person, deep down. because we see all throughout the show that dean wants to be better, to stop being the way he is when emotions do eventually get the better of him, to stop the habits he’s created.

> and it’s no secret that dean winchester was forced to raise sam— yet i feel that it’s severely overlooked in the show itself. sure, we do see flashbacks once in a while of a young dean taking care of a young sam, but people (including myself) brush over the fact that this was pretty much every day for dean. weeks, months, years, a decade? taking care of his brother, always before himself. let’s dive into my mind of what i think happened:

> dean stole for him and sam. obviously, yes, we all know this, since it’s canon from the show— but that was dean’s ever first crime: shoplifting / petty theft. the cop let him go, though, until one of the next towns a few months later when dean got too cocky with the cashier and smartmouthed the deputy. that landed him in a holding cell.

> dean also protected sam at school. and yes, once again, this is shown in the show, but dean was a grade-a menace when it came to his brother. shit talk dean all you want, call him anything you please, but if his brother was brought up? he blew a gasket, and the dude’s lights out. every time.

> dean did all the talking (and still does, sometimes). anywhere he and sam went alone in his younger years, dean’s mouth was the only one that was moving. diners, motel lobbies, libraries, restaurants, dive bars, pubs, you name it. sam was too nice to talk to strangers— and dean learned early on that strangers aren’t doing something ‘just to be nice’. ever.

dean’s mistrusting, down to his last nerve ending— but if his dad’s with them, he can relax. otherwise, it’s eyes everywhere, making sure they won’t be messed with.

> dean made the most of everything. we see this in the christmas episode (the flashback to their younger selves) and the fireworks memory in dean’s heaven. his main priority, if not to protect sam, was to cheer him up. keep him happy. maybe not distracted— but to take his mind off of the real world. we all do it, dean just made it easier for his brother to do so.

but sam wasn’t totally clueless, obviously— he’s smart. maybe an idiot sometimes, but not outright dumb. he knew there were things that dean and john didn’t tell him, but he didn’t press when he was younger—because sometimes, being oblivious to things was kinda nice.

this changed as sam got older, as we know. sam noped his way out of there the second he got a chance. and while dean was mad that he left— he was happy for him, too. because sam did it. he got out.

> dean definitely is / was a ‘do as i say, not as i do’ type when it came to sam (and pretty much everyone else too). dean was a bad influence, yes, but he never let sam just do whatever he did. back then, dean drank, smoked, the whole nine yards to fit in, be cool, whatever— but best believe if sam wanted to try any of that, dean shut down that idea immediately.

> that sums up most of dean’s side, though. because sam was the one who was too good, too nice, too soft— and dean wanted him to stay that way. because he wanted sam to have a normal freakin’ life (cue that speech dean gave sam in like… season 5?), to have a family. dean didn’t think he could have, or deserve that. besides, who the hell would take him?

(it’s me. i would take him)

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#faith’s works . . . @bejeweledinterludes!#supernatural #dean winchester headcanon #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn headcanon #sam winchester #young dean winchester #young sam winchester #spn

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whatt-the · 9 months ago

Text

Gift for @uno-san

College Stanford x milf reader

Content warnings: age gap obviously, stanford is a warning because I am tired of people pretending he isn't odd as hell, fem reader

Author's note: this takes place in an AU where Stanley never ruined ford's project and he got into his dream college. He is taken under the wing of an esteemed scientist, shenanigans (cheating on ur husband in a loveless marriage) ensue.

devious devious art about this coming soon! Both targeted and about the ambiguous "reader".

This is also only part 1 and there will definetly be more to come

Imagine how Stanford felt when first being invited to his mentor's house, after a particularly lengthy discussion on whatever topic the lecture his mentor gave happened to be about. I can imagine all sorts of emotions running through his mind... anxiety, excitement, a bit of shock- he knew he was smart, but he never thought his theories were reasonable enough to challenge his mentor's views: you see, he really idolized that man. Continuing their discussions would be an honor, and the mere mention of publishing multiple papers with him had stanford's mind racing, he could barely contain his joy!

Now, understand that he had plans for the unexpected visit: he'd prove his worth, his technical prowess, anything to get more of that sweet, sweet approval. We both know he didn't have much of that in his youth, neither did he get much of it now... it seems he is always the single oddest character in any given room, even amongst other well educated, motivated students. "Teacher's pet", "tryhard", he couldn't believe it at first- such childish insults at such an esteemed institution? He thought those got left behind in high school. How innocent he is. Regardless:

His plans were to prove himself.

Well, like I said, were.

Right now? His mind couldn't be further from his studies.

He'd made it to the house alongside the professor, the discussion now spanning multiple topics- he was having fun. Rare, considering any of his other interactions with quite literally anyone else.

(Truly the outcomes are deplorable. His social skills are lacking to an astronomical degree, to the point where it is borderline comical how little he knows about human interaction. It is a cliché, the nerd who doesn't know how to socialize, but it wouldn't be so popular of a trope if it didn't often get reflected in reality. Not like he knew it was very popular to begin with: even the claim that he learned to interact with others through books would be false, since he strayed from any sort of romantic narrative. It was out of a feeling of inadequacy, really.)

Then, the door was opened.

And that's when he met you for the first time.

"You! You're Stanford right? I've heard good things from my husband here-"

"Come on, don't flatter the kid yet." Your husband spoke with a chuckle

"Hey! He deserves to hear how good he's doing! Come here." You walked forward and hugged him, it was your way of greeting people. It was warmer and more welcoming- both things the world lacked severely.

(Stanford found himself paralyzed where he stood for a few moments. He'd already found your personality endearing -your appearence even moreso-, and now you're pressed up against him? He simply must be dreaming. You felt so soft against him-- heavens, how long had it been since he'd received a hug? Far too long, clearly, but he doesn't remember them ever feeling this good)

The societal pressure to reply to this action in some way caught up to him fast, however. He was quick to place a hand on your waist, his range of motion being limited from your arms wrapping around his own. He may experience the social pressure, but he really has no clue what's appropriate and what isn't, huh? Cute.

(Had he a modicum of self control, he'd most definetly have had a much more timely and well adjusted response to your touch, but amidst the smell of your perfume, your soft arms around him, your hair tickling against his face, the feeling of your hands on his back... nothing carried the same weight as your presence did, who could blame him for doing what his mind instructed him to do and touch you back somehow? He'll come to find that he will blame himself very much for this interaction. No one more judgemental on his behaviors than the one responsible for them)

Once you pulled back from him, you were quick to usher them inside and offer them snacks, reasoning that they'd deserved something nice after studying and debating so much on so many topics. Your husband eagerly agreed and impatiently waited for your food through busying himself by unearthing blueprints and all sorts of different research papers so there would be grounds for his and ford's endless theorizing.

And thus, as you left, Stanford was left with his own thoughts. He made note of the fact that those very same thoughts were entirely consumed by you: how you dressed, how you looked, how soft your hair was, how lovely your voice sounded; all things that brought him much joy to think about, but equal parts of shame. He didn't necessarily want to have any such invasive thoughts about his professor's wife, yet there he is, with his thoughts growing more wretched by the minute. It's almost like his brain was against him: guiding thoughts that had him blushing at the very visage into his mind's eye. He wanted your hands on his back again- he wanted you to drag your nails across it-- he wanted to feel your lips on his, he wanted to feel your breath grow shaky against him--

"Here it is!! Sorry for the wait"

Papers getting dropped on the table and a thankful sigh were the next things he heard. His professor turned to him, instructing him to sit at the table, since "if you don't come quick, there won't be any left for you!"

Your food was great, simply regarded as the usual to your husband, but seen as the world's 8th wonder by Stanford. When asked if he was enjoying the food, he quickly assured you that he was absolutely enjoying it, making sure to remark that it is "the best thing he's had since he entered college", which was not at all a lie, considering he was surviving off of microwaved cup noodles and the occasional granola bar- but even he knew that was too pathetic for him to mention at all.

Your husband and Stanford made quick work of the snacks and promptly got back to... spewing big pompous words and numbers at eachother... at least it seems they were having fun, considering they'd laugh toguether on occasion. That must be a good sign? You weren't entirely sure what was happening with those 2, and you took to not interrupting them in lest you break their chain of thought.

The afternoon went by in the blink of an eye to them. Discussions on various theories followed by reading research papers followed by sketching on blueprints followed by more reading research papers. It was their passion, it seems. However, ford was greatly saddened that it was already so late- he knew full well that if he stayed any longer he'd end up spending the night on your couch, so both him and his professor agreed that it was very much time for him to go back to campus snd consequently to the dorms.

Of course, that wasn't going to happen before he got to say goodbye to you. Even if he was embarrassed to look you in the eye after a full day of... various thoughts about you, he couldn't seem to get enough of your presence. Making his way towards the front door, you were the only one who accompanied him, since your husband was quite busy organizing the mess him and his pupil had created throughout the day.

As you stood at the doorway, you saw yourself growing quite sorrowful that he'd be leaving already, he was quite interesting to you. However, nothing could have prepared neither you nor him for what he did next. He turned around to face you once more, seemingly debating something in his mind for an instant. But, just as quickly as his uncertainty was noticed, it vanished, being replaced by a conviction and fervor he didn't expect from himself -his self control seemed to disappear when he was with you- .Thus, he gently took a hold of your hand and brought it up to his height, kissing the back of it lightly. You could feel your heart skip a beat; you hadn't experienced any such romantic gestures in... god knows how long. As he pulled back, you spoke.

"I-it was... lovely meeting you Stanford." You squeezed his hand as you took a step forward. As soon as he returned your sentiment, he was gone. Though, in the look you both shared during those brief moments, you both knew this wasn't going to be the last time he'd be in this house.

You'd both make sure of it.

Stanford's professor after ford practically begged to go back to his house again: "did you really like her cooking that much?"

Stanford, sweating profusely: "yeah.. her.. . Cooking......"

#gravity falls #gravity falls x reader #stanford pines x reader #stanford pines x you #this LOSER is about to get his world ROCKED #can ya'll tell that I actually wish I could punch stanford?? no???#good. you shouldn't

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