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sttoru · 1 year

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just saw ur fic ideas post .......... how bout semi public stuff with gojo @ some high end jujutsu event and he just is SOOOO enamoured with how you look and takes you to the bathroom and ..... 😙

GOT A FETISH FOR YOUR LOVE !

ෆ note. sobs dies ressurects… im so weak… i had to write a full on fic… everyone thank T for this cuz i went crazy on this one and it’s super detailed for no reason. this post contains smut, proceed at own risk !

ෆ tags. (perv)dom!satoru x female reader. semi public, p in v — unprotected, bits of manhandling, corruption kink, breast play, premature ejaculation, cervix fucking, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, teasing, cum play, creampies, spanking, pussy slapping, mentions of masturbation, perv panty stealer satoru, implied cunnilingus, fucked against a wall, lots of dirty talk, satoru calls you ‘slutty’ once, satoru with the famous ‘just the tip’ beg, satoru sometimes turns whiny and subby so you get the best of both worlds (hes pathetic), he has a big dick ehem, pussy drunk satoru.

satoru couldn’t believe his eyes when he saw you climb up the stairs near the torii gates of the high school he teaches at; your appearance only increasing in beauty due to the candle lights placed all around the environment.

your face and body were glistening under the moon light as you made your way up. you were silently cursing yourself for wearing heels while knowing that jujutsu tech was situated on top of a literal mountain.

unbeknownst to you, your boyfriend had been waiting your arrival near the entrance since the first guests started pouring in.

with a sigh, you finally lift your head up as you notice the entrance to the main building come into view. there were lots of known sorcerers gathered around, chitchatting about recent business and changes in the jujutsu society.

you were too enamoured by the elegant decorations that hung around the school and the people who were dressed accordingly to the theme to even notice the white-haired man walking up to you.

which was unusual, since satoru’s tall physique could be easily spotted in any crowd.

“baby, you should’ve told me you had arrived!” satoru exclaims almost embarrassingly loud, waving at you without a care in the world of all the other guests that were giving him stares. his gaze was only on you, “i would’ve come picked you up.”

you wave back at him, eyes lingering on the tailored dark blue suit he was wearing, the waistcoat and dress shirt underneath being undeniably attractive. a bonus being that he was wearing his glasses and not his blindfold.

“it’s okay, love.” you reassure satoru as you walk a few steps towards him as well.

“ya sure? you didn’t hurt yourself or anything, right?” satoru pouts, immediately wrapping his arms around your waist and hugging you tight, “my poor, poor girl.”

you roll your eyes at satoru’s antics. his one and only desire in life is to give you the princess treatment you deserve and it shows at moments like these.

“it’s fine,” you murmur, voice muffled as you bury your face into the crook of his neck; getting drowned in his familiar scent, “you look handsome by the way.”

satoru chuckles, feeling a bit giddy on the inside from your compliment. he almost responded with a ‘i know i do’, yet he held himself back. today was an exception and he decided to save you from any more cheeky remarks.

“thank you, pretty.” satoru hums, “you look ethereal.”

you could feel the way your boyfriend hugged you even tighter after his comment, pressing your body against his. you normally wouldn’t mind it in the slightest, however you could notice a few people glancing over at you two.

satoru couldn’t give a single damn about it; the only thing his senses were hyper focused on were your breasts that were squished against his chest—the curves of your body being easily accessible to the sorcerer.

“god..” his breath was shaky a little. satoru was really trying hard to repress his urges, the event hadn’t even started yet and even so, he was way too lost in his perverted thoughts.

he couldn’t help himself. you were just too addictive; your perfume, your warmth, your body, your face, your glossy lips… your breasts, your ass—

satoru clears his throat and pulls back after a bit, “shall we, m’lady?”

he bowed a little to you, putting his hand out for you to hold on while a subtle smirk played on his lips.

with a giggle, you grab onto his hand and satoru wastes no time interlocking your fingers as he guides you to the entrance of the main hall.

the building was scattered with even more sorcerers from all kinds of clans; some admiring the scenery, some sitting and eating various delicacies.

like before, you were too caught up in the scale of the event to realise that satoru was ogling you. it was a great thing that his pitch black lenses were blocking most of his eyes from the outside;

his gaze lingered on your side profile, your lips that were slightly parted in amazement, your hips which swayed from side to side with each step and your ass which he tried not to grope in public.

satoru hadn’t even noticed that he started to ball his hands into fists out of pure self control. his hand that was holding onto yours tightening its grip as well.

“something wrong?” you ask your boyfriend once you noticed, tilting your head to look up at him.

“nothin’, baby.” satoru lies and flashes you a reassuring smile, “c’mon. let’s enjoy some food.”

without waiting on your answer, satoru guides you towards a free cocktail table and stands near it, serving you an appetiser that was set on the table cloth.

you gladly accepted it and took a small bite, looking around the place some more and taking in the details, “it’s really pretty. the decor and stuff.”

satoru hums in agreement even though he hadn’t taken a single proper look at the environment when you were the main event in his eyes, “yeah. i think so too.”

everything about you somehow drove him crazy today. on most normal days, he could wait until you were at home to show you how much he adores you. that was not the case at the moment since he was fighting with his own self on the inside.

he was absolutely whipped for your elegant look.

“very pretty.” satoru mumbles under his breath. he most definitely wasn’t talking about the interior or exterior of the place.

it was getting harder by the minute to not give in to his primal needs. the more you talked to him, flashed him your innocent smile and let him hear your voice, the more he was struggling to keep his (now hard) dick in his pants.

you continued rambling about something that you noticed around you and satoru took the chance to place his hand on your hip, pulling you closer. it wasn’t anything unusual, thus you kept on talking.

it started off by him rubbing the area around your hips to his fingers subtly sliding downwards, eventually reaching the hem of your dress. his index finger dipped under the fabric, caressing your upper thigh. that small skin to skin action made satoru’s breath hitch and his cock twitch in its restraints.

“fuck.”

“what was that?” you abruptly stop yourself as you heard your lover curse under his breath. you weren’t aware of all the lewd thoughts going on in satoru’s mind and that made it even better. your innocent confusion wasn’t going to last long, however.

satoru lowered his head a bit until his lips were right next to your ear. the warmth of his breath made you shiver.

“i said,” he starts off in a low tone; one which he knows would make you weak for him, “i want you.”

it was as if time froze for you for a split second. you knew what satoru meant with that. you could’ve easily guessed the hidden meaning behind those three words just by his tone. the light but daring touches on your legs were your second hint.

“love, we’re in public.” you whisper back. satoru has a reputation to uphold as the strongest sorcerer in this entire building, yet there he was; implying that he wanted to take you right there and now.

a sigh left satoru’s lips, the air hitting your ear once again, “please, baby? for me?”

satoru was running out of patience. he could act out in the midst of the hall and disregard his image for all he cares. he just needed you. badly.

“promise i’ll be quick, yeah?” he adds, tone pleading but also a tad dominant.

you gulp and wanted to give in. you stood no chance to your whiny boyfriend, who always knew the right buttons to push to get you to comply to his requests.

satoru saw the hesitation in your eyes and he decided to plead more, “just the tip. i promise, sweets—tha’s all i need.”

a intrusive mental image of satoru fucking your brains out made him grip your thigh a bit harder; his voice suddenly growing deep and dominant, his expression filled with only lust.

“shit—please. have to feel your sweet pussy wrapped around me or i’ll lose it.”

his words were growing explicit and it was only a matter of time before he actually touches you improperly in front of everyone. you could tell by the way his long fingers inched closer to your clothed cunt.

“..fine. just the tip, like you said.” you breathe out shakily out of pure desire. though, both of you knew that it was going to be more than ‘just the tip’.

satoru grinned and immediately put down the appetiser he was holding onto, grabbing your hand and almost rushing out of the hall.

there were a few sorcerers trying to greet him on the way, yet he didn’t even glance at them once. his eyes were dazed with hunger as he swiftly made his way through the crowd—his thoughts being filled with the ways he’ll have you moan and beg.

satoru opens up the door to the nearest bathroom, pushing you against the wall the moment the door closed behind you.

his glossy lips crash against yours, the lipstick you’re wearing smearing on your lover due to the aggressive and almost sloppy way he kissed you. his tongue prodded against your lips before entering your mouth—strings of saliva and heavy breaths being exchanged between you two for what felt like minutes.

“ah, fuck. i wanted this so bad,” satoru moans against your mouth, sucking on your bottom lip, “..since the moment i saw you in that dress.”

his big hands were all over your body; groping and grabbing onto your flesh, from your ass and thighs to your tits.

“mhhh— ‘toru, god,” you sigh, feeling yourself get wet from just his confessions, “you can have me, all of me.”

your lover grunts at your words. they were exactly what he needed to hear. he roughly pulls the hem of your dress up, revealing your white panties. his all time favourite. a small, lustful grin instantly appears on his face. he always thought that you looked extra innocent in those; and that by ripping those off, that he’ll corrupt that ‘pure’ image.

and don’t let him start on how many times he’s used that specific pair of panties to jerk off. he vividly remembers how his sticky cum covered the cloth afterwards.

“haah—fuckfuckfuck,” satoru curses repeatedly as his fingertips tremble out of pure desire, “can’t wait any longer. you’re gonna walk around the avenue with no panties later on, ‘kay?”

“sato-” your eyes widened and before you could even protest, you hear the fabric of your underwear tearing. the ripped off cloth falling down onto the cold floor.

“there we go,” he mutters in delight, his eyes gazed at your exposed pussy. his fingers rubbed over the skin, grazing the wet folds. a deep, breathy chuckle echoes throughout the bathroom, “this pussy’s just ready to be filled, don’tcha think?”

you nod feverishly and nibble on your lower lip at the way satoru was teasing your clit. his hand slowly cupped your slippery cunt, his palm covering the area entirely before slapping the velvety flesh. three small smacks, each making your limbs tremble.

“ya hear that?” satoru hums, completely overtaken by his desire for you as the squelchy sounds ring in his ears, “so ready to be stretched out and fucked.”

“hnnnh, ah, baby—please just, just fuck me.” you whimper; feeling the pressure of his hand’s thenar against your clit while his fingertips traveled across your vulva.

“oh, i definitely will.” satoru responds with a grunt as he undoes his belt and zipper with his free hand. his trousers and underwear fall down to his ankles, revealing his cock to you.

your mouth watered at the sight as it slightly slapped against his lower abdomen due to the speed at which satoru took his boxers off. the moist drops of thick pre-cum coating his pink tip, the slight curve of his big shaft and the veins covering it—you needed to have him in you.

when satoru thinks that he prepped you enough to take his cock, he removes his hand from between your legs. of course, he isn’t going to waste a chance of tasting your slick that gathered on his skin.

“turn around,” he orders after licking off his fingers and you do as said, “ass back towards me, pretty.”

one of satoru’s hands was on one side of your hips to hold you steady against the cold tiles of the bathroom wall, the other occupied with stroking his cock. satoru was already contemplating on where to cum; in or on you. he’s obsessed with spurting his sticky cum on your plump ass, however he also loved stuffing you full of it.

“deep breaths,” your boyfriend reminds you as he prods the swollen tip of his cock at your entrance—despite the prep, it was always almost impossible to avoid a slight discomforting sensation in the beginning. that man’s length was no joke.

“ahhhh, fuuuck! satoru!” you hiss and your fingernails try to dig into the wall you were pressed against. you felt your folds being forced apart to fit his cock inside of your small cunt.

“shiiit.. you’re fuckin’ tight.” satoru grits his teeth. no matter how many times he breaks your pussy in, you still feel as tight as ever, “..mmh—relax, princess.”

satoru pushed in, inch by inch, until he bottomed out and you both took a deep breath. a sloppy kiss was placed against the back of your neck as reward for taking him in. it was his habit of doing so every time the two of you get intimate.

“‘m gonna start moving. that alright?”

a simple nod coming from you was plenty to let satoru begin with slow, soft thrusts which soon enough turned into deep and firm thrusts—the pounding sounds echoing in the bathroom, “there we go—ahh, yeah— fuck!”

“mhhhg, s’good! ngh!” you slur your words a bit as satoru started to speed up the tempo, feeling his heavy balls slap against the skin near your clit every time he drove his thick cock into you, “mmph! more, wan’ more!”

neither you nor satoru could care anymore if your desperate mewls or the harsh skin-to-skin sounds were heard outside of the dimly lit bathroom.

satoru was slowly losing his mind as he gazed down at your ass and the way you moved your hips back to meet his rough thrusts—he never got enough of you in that position. his hands held onto your hips before moving to your lower back to deepen your arch a little. his eyes were in a trance; he needed to see more of that chubby ass and the recoil of it.

“i swear—you’re gonna make me,haah, cum already,” satoru moans as he tried to find a way to distract himself from the pleasure building up to a breaking point. he decides to gently bite onto your shoulder, running his tongue over the slight mark he left and then continues to suck on the flesh.

“hmmmh, haah, yes! need- need your cum in me, please- please, ‘toru!” you beg in such an erotic tone that satoru can’t help but bite down harder on your shoulder.

“princess—y-you can’t say that-” he swallows a lump in his throat as he forces his cock so deep that you felt it hit your cervix repeatedly, “please- don’t say that.. don’t, oh god—“

satoru was the one begging this time; his voice sounding more whiny than it had ever been during your little session. he can’t help it when it comes to you. he had desired to fuck you since he saw you and now that he was finally doing it, his senses were utterly overwhelmed.

“nonono,” you hear your boyfriend curse as the strokes inside your tight cunt turned harsh and quick, like he was on the verge of his climax, which he didn’t want. he didn’t want to cum in under two minutes, but he’s just so weak when it comes to you. so damn weak.

“ahhh, fuck— s-sorry, baby— can i cum? can i cum in you? please?” he bites his lips, shutting his eyes so tight that he could see colors.

“please, please, let me. mnghhh, please let me cum in you. wanna fill you up.” satoru repeats his words like a chant in your ear. you were as lost in the feeling of ecstasy as your lover was and just nodded at his whiny pleas.

“mhmm, yes, do it—cum in me!”

your permission was all satoru needed and not a second later, you felt ropes and ropes of hot cum flood your cunt and some drops gush out of your pulsating hole.

satoru was quivering slightly as he kept moving his hips in slow pumps, fucking the cum deeper into you. you were full of surprises; he didn’t know he could cum in under two minutes until right that instant. you really had him wrapped around your finger.

and the best thing? he was already starting to get hard once again.

satoru slowly pulled his dick out of you and only let the tip stay a few centimetres in you. one hand went to grab onto the base of his length and he started to tap and move the tip in tiny circular motions in your cum-filled pussy—making sure every single drop is dumped where it belonged.

“fucking greedy, ain’t ya?” satoru hisses as he feels you clench onto his tip like you were doing to his cock earlier, “your pussy just wants to milk me dry.”

you whine and push your hips back a little in attempt to push his cock further into your needy cunt again, “wan’ more.. please, ‘toru?”

gojo satoru was a weakling.

he slammed his cock fully inside of you again and didn’t care if you expected it or not; he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow. his hands were kneading the flesh of your ass, spanking it every now and then to feel you tighten up more around him while his hips were working full time.

“yeah? gonna take another load in your slutty cunt again?” satoru groans as he feels your pussy gripping onto his throbbing cock like it was pleading to be stuffed, “haaah—you’re incredible, nhh, never had anyone make me cum this quick and hard before.”

your body squirmed and shivered each time you felt satoru spank you, ending up in a repeated cycle of you tightening up around him and him smacking the fat of your ass, “yes, yes, yes! want it, please!”

it was incredibly difficult to hold back your own orgasm when satoru was whispering filthy things in your ear, pounding into your creamy pussy while also stimulating your clit.

satoru instantly caught onto the fact that you were nearing your climax. you always started to get more noisy whenever you were close, “aah, mhm—cum on my cock while i dump another load inside of you. c’mon, you can do it.”

satoru’s words made your stomach fill with butterflies, the coil inside of you threatening to finally snap.

“‘m gonna.. gonna cum! gonna cum!” you cry out between ragged breaths, eyes rolling into the back of your head once you reached your long-awaited climax.

the sight of you arching your back even more while you came was the hottest thing satoru’s seen. he rushed his thrusts, becoming more precise to hit your cervix over and over again.

“mhm, jus’ like that—tighten up more.” your lover hisses and his nails dug into the flesh of your hips while he felt your pussy throbbing from overstimulation, “milk me dry, pretty—fuck!”

your mind was foggy with that euphoric feeling after reaching your orgasm. but also due to satoru continuing to bully his thick cock all the way in you, seemingly needing to drain his balls inside your cunt.

“mhhhhnn, ‘m gonna fill ya up again,” he whimpers a bit into your ear from behind while sweat drips from his forehead, “take it all like a good girl, yeah? don’t—haah— waste a drop.”

and with that he spurts and squirts strings of cum into your womb once more. it felt like there was no ending to it as his semen just continued to pump out of the tip.

“fuckkk! got more for you,” satoru almost sobs out, his tongue peeking out from behind his lips as his muscles tense up. he came so much into you that even more of the liquid drizzled down on the floor beneath you, “take it—yeah—jus’ like that.”

a few more deep and chaste strokes and satoru was done. he exhaustedly rests his chin on your shoulder, white locks clinging onto his forehead and his cheeks colouring a reddish hue.

“haahh.. that was amazing.” satoru sighs deeply, trying to catch his breath while wrapping his arms around your waist. he buried his face into your neck, leaving small pecks there while mumbling about how good you were for him.

your eyes were closed as you rest against the wall, enjoying the affection from your lover while you feel his dick go limp inside you. satoru slowly pulls out afterwards, biting his lip as his gaze lingered on all the fluids leaking down your trembling thighs.

“hold on,” satoru murmurs gently, “gonna clean you up, princess.”

his own legs were shaking slightly as he quickly put his boxers and pants back on. your boyfriend grabs a few tissues from a nearby dispenser, kneeling behind you afterwards.

your eyes followed his fingers as they held onto the wipes and started to clean you up slowly. the comfortable silence—excluding the muffled sounds of chatter and music from outside the bathroom—was perfect for you to catch your breath.

satoru was diligently sliding the tissues over your skin, making sure to not be too rough.

as much as he tried telling himself not to get turned on again from the sight of your ass and sopping cunt in front of his face, he just couldn’t.

your lover was breathing heavily and stopped cleaning you up for a second. he really tried his best to stop himself over and over, though the title of being the strongest didn’t apply to his self control.

his large hands came up to hold onto your ass, spreading the cheeks apart which made your lips part in shock. you looked over your shoulder at him and sensed the resurfacing lust in the air. not only that: his warm breath hit your sensitive pussy as he panted in a hungry way.

satoru lifted his head up to meet your eyes, flashing you a (not so) apologetic grin;

“sorry, pretty. i need to get my dessert.”

#sttoru writes.#jjk smut #gojo smut #jjk x reader #satoru smut #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru smut #gojo fic #banner by cafekitsune

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forlix · 11 months

Text

𝐜𝐫𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠・h.h.

— you're uninviting, there's no doubt about that, your resolve like unpolished diamond and tongue like broken glass. but hyunjin finds you're not half as impossible as everyone assumes you are.

words・11.1k

pairing・idol!hyunjin x female stylist!reader (inspired by this)

genres・fluff, angst, eventual smut so MDNI, some hurt/comfort, some humor, mc is a bad bitch and hyunjin is a #simp, enemies? to lovers, sexual tension, workplace relationship, mutual pining, slow burn, nonlinear narrative

warnings・reader vividly remembers an anxiety attack, alcohol is consumed, lots of compartmentalization and imperfect communication, complex people feeling complex emotions, smut warnings under the cut

playlist・farewell, neverland by txt・like crazy by jimin・black friday by tom odell・collide by justine skye・crying lightning by arctic monkeys

a/n・call me victor frankenstein bc i've given birth to a MONSTER (except i actually love and care for mine ofc). this was easily the greatest challenge of my fanfiction-writing career and it feels like my magnum opus; i hope it's worth the wait! also a huge shoutout to sahar for being my voice of reason and my biggest supporter :’) i don’t deserve u i love u

smut warnings・cunnilingus, overstimulation, creampie (practice safe sex!!), mild dacryphilia

Present day. Cannes, France. 5:54 P.M.

You’ve long made peace with the fact that Hwang Hyunjin is incapable of shutting up for more than five minutes.

As it is, the man has a mouth that runs like a cross-country marathon; then throw in his uncanny aptitude for annoying you, and what do you get? A nonstop slew of terrible jokes and teasing quips, tailored according to his thorough mental manual of what gets under your skin hardest and fastest.

This is the reality you live in, presumably because you were evil in your past life, and you’ve steeled yourself to see it through.

But twenty minutes have passed since you and Hyunjin ducked into the back of a cab and gave the driver the show’s address—and, as stunning as the red rooftops and lazuline coastline of Cannes are, you find you’re more interested in Hyunjin’s peculiar silence.

You move your gaze to his face. He’s looking outside, his chin resting upon the palm of his hand, the afternoon sunlight dusting over his chiseled features like polish on pottery; his complexion an exuberant gold against the cream-colored linen that makes up his clothing.

Maybe it’s because you opted for a simpler makeup look today, leaving the most telling contours of his face warm and bare, or maybe it’s because you’ve spent the last year committing his every mannerism and expression to memory. Nevertheless, you see through his pursed lips and tight brow right away.

“Nervous?”

Hyunjin’s head swivels towards you with a small snap, like he’s forgotten you’re here. His lips fall open, their glossy peach color glinting with the small shift.

“No,” he replies reflexively, but then his facade flickers. “Fuck, maybe a little. It’s just hard to believe, you know?”

You do know. It was a huge honor for both of you when Hyunjin was named the newest global ambassador of Versace. For you to be attending the brand’s pop-up show in one of the most beautiful cities in Europe, among some of the world’s most prolific creatives, is truly incomprehensible. Even you’ve been feeling antsy since you landed; you can only imagine Hyunjin’s anxiety.

You have never been good at consolation. You think your mouth is too coarse, your propensity for honesty too strong. But you’ve always known just what to say when it comes to him.

“Just remember who you are.”

Hyunjin takes a few seconds to process your words, but his understanding washes over his whole body; straightens his back; hardens his gaze. You don’t see this change in posture, though. You’re too busy looking anywhere else, all of a sudden feeling quite embarrassed.

Nor do you see the private smile that disperses across Hyunjin’s lips; his eyes softening so, so marginally when they peer at your profile; his hand twitching where it rests on his knee, as if contemplating reaching for you with a mind of its own.

Thirty seconds. That is the amount of time you have left to bask in this otherworldly tranquility. And then he speaks.

“I want you to meet my parents.”

Your arm reacts before your mind can. Without having to turn your head an inch, you smack him squarely in the bicep, sending him crumpling against his door with a bark of a laugh; “please,” he adds, and you’re biting back a smile as you hit him again, with less conviction this time.

The cab driver nearly misses an exit, too busy wondering about the peculiar pair in his backseat and the nature of your relationship. He can’t tell if you hate each other or if you’re married.

One year ago. Seoul, South Korea. 8:42 A.M.

“I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me.”

“For my newborn daughter.”

“Yeah, okay. I still can’t believe you’re abandoning me for your newborn daughter. What does that brat have that I don’t?”

“My genes, to begin with.”

“That’s unfair. She’s using—”

An important-looking pair of women step out of the nearest elevators, the clacking of their heels ricocheting sharply off the lobby walls. Hyunjin straightens his back so quickly he thinks he pulls a muscle. He and Seojun incline their heads in perfect sync, their “good morning”s prim and professional.

“She’s using cheats,” Hyunjin hisses the second the women are out of earshot again, and this wrests a laugh from the older man at last.

Around one month prior, Seojun confided in Hyunjin that he and his partner were expecting their first child soon, and that he would be putting his career on indefinite hiatus to welcome her into the world.

Hyunjin had never felt so conflicted in his life. On one hand, he’d grown closer to his stylist over the last two years than he’d thought possible, and he knew it was stupid to be anything but delighted for him and his expanding family. On the other hand, it was precisely because they’d become so close that he wanted to grab the man by the ankles and shake the decision clean out of his body. He couldn’t imagine a dressing room or tour bus without him.

Today is a Saturday, but it’s also Seojun’s last day with the company. Hyunjin dragged himself to the JYP building at half past eight with much less reluctance than he let on. He wouldn’t have missed it for the world.

“Fourth floor,” Seojun instructs after the pair enter the elevator, and Hyunjin presses a knuckle to the according number. “Thanks.”

The doors slide shut; the floor numbers tick upwards.

“What was her name again?” Hyunjin asks.

“Y/N,” Seojun returns. “Y/L/N.”

“Is she here already?”

“No, she’ll be here at nine.”

There’s a small pause.

“Hyung.”

“Hm?”

“I feel like I’m being married off to another family for political reasons.”

“God, I can’t wait to be free of your theatrics.”

At this, the two men make eye contact; exchange smiles. The elevator announces their arrival to the fourth floor, and they step through the doors.

“You’ll be in good hands,” Seojun reassures. “She’s the best of the best. I hear she’s basically running the industry these days. I’m surprised she agreed to take you on.”

“I’m surprised an old fry like you knows someone like her,” Hyunjin replies, and the look Seojun gives him is so withering that he thinks he pulls a muscle again with his apologetic bow.

“You’re not wrong, though,” Seojun concedes. “We happened to work on the same project back when she was still a small name, and we’ve kept in touch ever since. She’s a great kid. Ambitious, hardworking, strong as hell—”

They arrive outside their destination, and Hyunjin holds open the door to the conference room. Only to find that Seojun has stopped in his footsteps, temporarily stunned by a new realization.

She reminds me of him.

“He’s forgotten how to walk,” the him in question whispers like he’s narrating a nature documentary, and the moment is over. “Is this what fatherhood does to a man?”

Seojun kicks Hyunjin into the room by the seat of his pants.

The minutes pass slowly. Seojun moves his eyes between the door and his phone every few seconds, visibly antsy about the imminent meeting. In the meantime, Hyunjin makes the groundbreaking discovery that these office chairs are absurdly and almost suspiciously comfortable. All it takes is a chin upon his palm and a few seconds of shut-eye, and he’s suddenly slumped over the table, snoring softly into the crook of his elbow.

At 8:57, Seojun’s phone lights up with a new notification. At 8:58, he notices that Hyunjin is asleep, and closes his hand around the crumpled receipt in his pocket. At 8:59, he scrunches said receipt into a ball and launches it in Hyunjin’s direction. It hits him squarely on the head, and the boy is nearly knocked to the floor like a bowling pin.

“For that,” Hyunjin sputters, “I’m the godfather.”

“Absolutely the hell not.”

Then, it is 9:00.

When the door of the conference room opens, Hyunjin is still trying to gather his wits, wondering if the bastard is leaving the makeup industry to secretly pursue a career in professional basketball. He just barely notices the unfamiliar figure who steps into his line of vision.

“There she is,” Seojun greets warmly, rising to his feet right away. “God, how long has it been? Two, three years now?”

You’re not doing anything remarkable when Hyunjin sees you for the first time, simply walking across the room and bowing graciously in Seojun’s direction, but he is immediately under the vague impression that you’re cutting through space as you move, scorching the particles of air that dare obstruct your path.

With his head cocked slightly to the left, like a fascinated puppy, Hyunjin watches the stunning smile that forms on your lips when you take Seojun’s hand; your finger as it tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear with the elegance of rippling silk. His mind feels impossibly slow, like you’ve tapped open his skull and robbed him of his ability to think.

Then, you toss Hyunjin a look over your shoulder, and he’s reminded of lightning forking towards the earth. Terrifying, volatile, beautiful.

“Something like that,” you say, turning back to Seojun, and time starts to move again. “It’s great to see you again, Mr. Lee. Congratulations on the baby.”

“Please, Seojun is fine,” he answers hastily. “And thank you. Thank you for all of this, actually. I can’t tell you how excited we are to have you.”

“You’re too kind—I’m excited too.”

Upon uttering the word “we,” Seojun delivers Hyunjin a fleeting side-eye; he takes the hint and pushes himself to his feet, feeling uncharacteristically clumsy as he moves towards you.

The second time he meets your gaze, it feels wrong, almost, for him to hold it for as long as he does. Like he’s approaching your throne with his chin held high and eyes fixed forward instead of his head sweeping the ground.

Except he swears he senses a strange warmth within the rings of your irises, and he spends every second of eye contact following, chasing it, almost craning his neck with how badly he wants to get a closer look. Until he’s as close to you as is socially acceptable for a first meeting and comes to a halt.

He ends up losing its trail, but he won’t forget that it’s there.

“My client, I’m guessing?” You say, extending your hand. “Y/N. It’s a pleasure.”

Your fingers are freezing cold where they meet his, and Hyunjin already knows that melting the permafrost that coats your flesh and guards your soul will be the tallest task of his life.

But he finds his next words accompanied by an involuntary smirk; he’s nothing, if not tenacious.

“Hyunjin,” he returns. “Pleasure’s all mine.”

Nine months ago. Paris, France. 6:16 P.M.

Hyunjin isn’t sure why—maybe you forget that he can still steal glances at your reflection over your shoulder or through the gaps of your fingers—but he’s learned over the last four weeks that you’re different, gentler, when you’re doing his makeup.

Your cold hands request instead of demand that he angle his head a certain way or suck in his cheeks. Your syllables are rounder somehow, your voice never traveling above a murmur. Even your eyes mellow out when you move in really close, your pupils dilating as you detail the final touches to the fresco you’ve painted upon him.

Your expression doesn’t give you away (it never does), but his hunch is that there’s a sprinkle of doting somewhere among the intense focus. That would explain why he feels like a flower in the moments when your fingertips and gaze move so carefully over his skin, like you’re touching his petals, trying not to tear them.

Too bad you never let him daydream for long.

“Close.”

“Huh?”

“Your eyes. Close them.”

His lashes have hardly brushed his lower lids when you begin to empty what feels like an entire bottle of setting spray on him. At the moist surprise, Hyunjin’s features scrunch up around his nose and he lets out a distraught hack like an old man.

A few seconds later, the barrage stops, and he cracks open a wary eye to scope out his surroundings. You wait until he does this to give his face one last spurt.

“Witch,” Hyunjin mutters, clawing back up the vanity chair.

“Thank you,” you reply, completely earnestly.

And whatever Hyunjin was going to say next suspends instantly on his tongue when you bring the pad of your thumb to the very edge of his lower lip and drag it across the soft flesh. He wonders if you know how hard he tries not to look at your mouth whenever you tend to his. He wonders if there’s anything you don’t know.

“You smudged your lipstick already.” There’s a small streak of coral pink on your hand when it falls back to your side. “See? That’s why we need the setting spray.”

“Uh huh.” And Hyunjin spots a ghost of a smile flit across your face, gone nearly as soon as it appears. The only evidence of it ever existing is the quickened heartbeat it leaves behind within him.

“You’re done, by the way,” you say, stepping aside. “Take a look.”

He slips out of his seat and moves closer to the vanity, peering at his reflection as curiously as if he’s never seen it before. But that’s how he’s felt since he started working with you.

Seojun was right: you are the best that the makeup industry has to offer. Hyunjin has come to understand this for multiple reasons. Your phone screen is incessantly illuminated by new notifications and incoming calls. The other stylists heed your advice like it’s the law. Brushes and pencils move like water when it’s you maneuvering them. And then some.

He would call what you have “talent,” but he knows it’s more than that. You show him a new version of himself every time you turn a mirror in his direction, like there are facets of him that are visible to you and you only. As much as he delights in the notion that you have such intimate knowledge of him, it should be impossible, considering you’ve only known him for two months. So no, it’s not just talent that you possess. It’s some combination of talent, hawkish perception, and raw artistry that is utterly inhuman—and sexy as fuck.

Speaking of sexy. Hyunjin’s look is relatively rudimentary tonight, the makeup light, the outfit a simple black tank top beneath a jacket and pants made of bright red velvet. But it’s the details that tie the whole thing together: the wide, loose sleeves causing the jacket to slip continually off his shoulders; the inner layer tight in all the right places. His face doesn’t look half bad either, with the sultry carmine powder that fringes his eyes and the intentionally mussed state of his hair. He pushes a hand through the dark locks, regarding himself with thorough appreciation.

You appear in his periphery as you start cleaning up your work station. “You can just take the jacket off when your sweat glands start malfunctioning, by the way. I thought you’d appreciate that detail.”

At this, his smize cracks into a laugh, the sound loud and uninhibited and uniquely yours to hear. “You suck.”

He looks away from his reflection just in time to glimpse another of your phantom smiles, and he thinks it’s so painfully on brand that the two times it’s appeared tonight have both been from you making yourself laugh. You might be the most insufferable person he’s ever met. He might be obsessed with you anyways.

“Well?” You implore. “What do you think?”

“No notes.”

It’s the answer you’re expecting. You survey him from head to toe one last time, decide that you, too, are satisfied, and slip your makeup into your bag; hike its strap over your shoulder.

“I’ll see you after the show, then.”

You have an important conference call to attend before tonight’s concert, hence why Hyunjin had to come in early for hair and makeup. This is also the reason why the two of you have been the only people in the dressing room for the better part of an hour.

It’s rare that he ever gets you alone, and he doesn’t want it to end. Not just yet.

“I lied, actually,” he calls. “I do have notes.”

You already have one foot out the door when you hear this, and you turn around so slowly and in such disbelief that he has to fight to constrain his laugh—the concept of imperfection is truly unthinkable to you. Insufferable, like he said.

“Do tell,” you say, dropping your bag back onto the floor.

“You have any jewelry for me?”

You chew on this for a moment. You did have a selection of necklaces prepared for tonight, but they were heavy and numerous, not exactly the best-suited for the group’s dynamic sets. You still like them, granted, and you know Hyunjin would as well.

You articulate all of this to him, and he asks if he can take a look at them anyways. “Come here, then,” you say, the words so tantalizing when they fall from your lips that nearly trips over himself trying to obey.

You take out a flat rectangular box from your bag and set it down in front of the lightbulb-studded mirrors. Hyunjin observes quietly as you show him its contents: three thick, gold chains with varying lengths and boasting different pendants, plus a beaded bracelet and an assembly of rings of the same material. His devious plan aside, he does love the selection.

“You’re sure you won’t be uncomfortable?”

He nods, and you pick up the longest of the three chains; turn to him expectedly. He takes this as his cue to move closer to you, except he overshoots a little, and he feels the tips of his shoes accidentally bump into the ends of yours; discerns the warmth emanating from your body against his own. He expects a withering glare, a kick in the shin, maybe, but you don’t seem bothered by the proximity at all, unblinking as you bring your hands around the either side of his neck and fasten the first necklace with a soft tap. Your fingers then brush over his collarbones to adjust the pendant, and he thinks your hands would have to be numb not to perceive the frantic heartbeat threatening to burst straight out of his skin.

Entire minutes pass before Hyunjin musters the courage to actually look at you. By then, you’re already working on the third and final necklace. It’s not a surprise that your face is mere inches away from his; he’s been watching your reflections out of the corner of his eye; he knows you’re closer to each other than you’ve ever been. But there are parts of you that the mirror doesn’t show—the soft curve of your lashes, the concentrated narrow of your eyes, the shapely protrusion of your pursed lips—and these surprise him so thoroughly that he slips and slides out of his right mind.

You are the type of beautiful that’s been around longer than humans have, the same as that of the true blue color of forget-me-nots. And Hyunjin feels enveloped, intoxicated by you from this minuscule distance. The idea forms numbly in his head that maybe, just maybe, he was put on this earth to admire you.

In this inebriated state, he makes a venturesome decision.

When you finish centering the last pendant upon the his chest, you are about to take a step back and review the updated look, but you’re debilitated by the feeling of fingers grazing over your hip—lightly, so lightly that you mistake them for a gust of wind at first, but the contact is enough to push the small of your back against the edge of the counter. Then, both of Hyunjin’s hands reach behind you, pressing flat against the marble surface, and, just like that, he has you right where he wants you, ensnared between cold stone and hot flesh.

And so begins an equilibrium so fragile that it’ll shatter if one of you so much as blinks the wrong way, your rattled breath fluttering against his lips, his eyes dark and hooded and out of focus as they survey the fine lines of your expression. It still doesn’t give you away (it never does), but he finds that in this moment he just doesn’t care.

“Let me take you out,” he murmurs. “One date.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You reply under your breath.

“You know what I’m talking about, beautiful.”

Upon uttering that last word, he angles his head almost imperceptibly, the movement challenging, daring you to say something about it. But you don’t. You merely hiss out a whetted “you’re fucking crazy,” and that’s his opening to drag this on a little longer; push your limits a little more.

“About you? Damn straight.”

At this, finally, fucking finally, there is a semblance of something in your face that isn’t just your usual mildly-irritated nonchalance. Instead, he detects surprise in the whites of your eyes as you widen them; as you part your lips with a response that only comes much later.

And he’s surprised by your surprise. Surely, with your skills of observation, you would’ve noticed long ago how his world shrinks down to only you and your gorgeous voice and your confident glare and your shitty sense of humor whenever he’s been granted the privilege of your presence.

This might be the first time he’s admitted it out loud, but he hasn’t tried—hasn’t been able—to hide how he feels about you, not now, not ever. It’s been that way since the moment the sole of your shoe met the carpet of that conference room on the fourth floor of the JYP building.

“Hwang—” You begin.

“Hyung!”

At the sound of a third, new voice, your arms tense like you’re about to shove Hyunjin off of you, but he only leans in further, so that his lips almost graze your jaw and your hands have nowhere to go except the taut surface of his chest. The surprise is gone; now you’re just pissed. He can feel the heat of your furious eyes and the tremor in your hands as you form fists around the fabric of his top. But he takes his sweet time in scooping up the bracelet and rings, and only afterwards does he pull away from you and straighten to his full height.

“Hey, Innie!” Hyunjin chirps, and Jeongin materializes in the doorway, looking thoroughly perturbed by the older boy’s sunny tone. “What’s up?”

In the meantime, you turn around to snap the lid of your jewelry box shut, and it takes a singular glance in the mirror for a truly horrible realization to settle upon your shoulders. You don’t think anybody would be able to tell even if you announced it outright, but you know yourself and the little nuances of your face all too well.

You’re flustered.

You feel like a horror movie heroine breaking the fourth wall.

“Nothing, weirdo. I was just announcing my arrival,” Jeongin says. Thank fuck you did, Hyunjin thinks to himself, completely unaware of the epiphany you’re having behind him. “Chan-hyung mentioned you were here already? Why?”

“She’s in high demand.” Hyunjin points out the she in question by jutting his chin in your direction. “The usual.”

“Ah.”

Jeongin inclines his head towards you in polite greeting. You return his hello, but your expression starts to feel tight when his eyes dart between the strange smile on Hyunjin’s face and your awkward stance (still glued to the edge of the counter) as he drops his duffel by the couch. The boy isn’t stupid, unlike his older counterpart.

“I saw a vending machine on my way here,” Jeongin says, turning to leave the room again. “You want anything, hyung? Noona?”

“I’m okay, thank you,” you say.

“I’ll have whatever you have,” Hyunjin says.

Jeongin flashes a thumbs-up and dips out of the room, perhaps a little more hastily than he intends to come across. And then there are two. Again.

You wait until you can’t hear his footsteps anymore, and then you turn to glower at Hyunjin so intensely that he thinks you’re about to place a curse on his whole bloodline.

Then, your phone starts vibrating, and he knows he’ll live to see another day.

“You still owe me an answer,” Hyunjin calls as you turn around and leave the room.

“Don’t hold your breath,” you reply.

One day, I’ll break her, is the predominant thought that resides in Hyunjin’s head as he slips on the remaining jewelry; watches your figure disappear around a corner. One day, I’ll break his face, is the predominant thought that resides in yours as you stalk away. That’s the two of you, in a nutshell.

Six months ago. Osaka, Japan. 3:03 P.M.

When you walk into the dressing room, you find Haeun hunched over an overflowing photo album with her hands forming fists in her hair, muttering to nobody in particular, “I have no idea what the fuck I’m doing.”

There’s an amused look in your eye as you set your bag down by Hyunjin’s empty vanity chair. She hasn’t noticed your presence yet; approximately three hallways down, the members are rehearsing for tonight’s performance on the main stage of the Kyocera Dome, and the music is so loud that you think you actually saw the walls vibrating while you were in the hallway moments ago.

You rise to your tiptoes and encroach upon her, waiting until she’s within reach to tickle the back of her neck. She nearly flies out of her seat with a shriek that can be heard over the heavy bass.

“Never gets old.” You hand her the photo album that went soaring also, and Haeun snatches it back with an affronted flourish.

“I can’t remember the last time you said hi to me normally, unnie.”

“Me neither, now that you mention it.”

Haeun and Han are your favorite stylist-idol duo in the world because they’re so eerily similar—and it’s adorable. They both illuminate every room they walk into; they both have grins too big for their faces, laughs too loud for their lungs. You always regret leaving your sunglasses at home when you catch sight of the effulgent pair.

But today you cannot detect the usual radiance in Haeun’s voice, nor so much as a hint of her easy grin. Then again, that’s another quality that she and her client share; they’re both well acquainted with the burdens that come with unwavering passion.

Every stylist has their own modus operandi. Haeun’s is a scrapbook of images that she cuts out and saves from catalogs, advertisements, newspapers, et cetera. You’ve seen it many times before, but never in such a state: messy handwriting stuffing the margins to their very brims, numbers and symbols like clusters of rainclouds over a sea of different outfits, arrows and circles and squares highlighting pant cuffs and cascade collars and dangling earrings. Telltale signs that Haeun hasn’t a clue as to what Han will be wearing tonight.

You gnaw on your lower lip, deliberating your next move. You end up placing a firm hand against the album’s cover and pushing it closed.

“Come with me,” you say. “We’re gonna try a new approach.”

Haeun opens her mouth to protest, but unfortunately you have an extensive track record of being right.

“What do you have in mind?” She sighs instead.

“You’ll see.”

With that, you stand up, tuck a small towel under your arm, and angle your head in the direction of the music.

The two of you make your way through the labyrinth of hallways that comprise the venue’s backstage. Eventually, the color of the floor changes from speckled white to solid black, and you step onto the part of the stage that is concealed from the audience by drawn curtains and heavy equipment. You say a quick hello to the group’s manager as you dip past him, and eventually reach the edge of the curtains, where you and Haeun have a good view of the eight members as they run through their setlist for tonight’s concert.

Haeun settles into the spot beside you, still confused as she follows your gaze.

“Let me ask you this,” you say, just audible over the din. “Can you style a performer if you don’t know how he performs?”

And understanding seeps over her features like poured tea.

“I want you to watch him,” you continue. “Tell me how he performs.”

Han’s part begins, as if on cue. His voice rings out through the empty stadium as he ducks to the front of the formation, a microphone held loosely to his lips, his face taut with focus. Haeun stares at him for some time, silently trying to fathom her observations, but she sees you shaking your head in the corner of her eye.

“Don’t think, Haeun. Just speak.”

She blows out a deep breath before obliging. “It’s hard to picture Han doing anything but laughing or making other people laugh, he’s so goofy and lighthearted most of the time. But he’s like a different person on stage. He’s so intense, it’s almost intimidating. Not intimidating in a douchey way, though—you just get the impression that he’s very confident in himself and his music.

You don’t say another word, but don’t need to. She’s hit her stride.

“His voice and enunciation are so clear. It’s crazy how he sounds exactly like the studio recording. Plus, his delivery feels genuine; he’s not just reciting lyrics, but speaking straight from his heart.

“And this is gonna sound bad, but I didn’t know Han could dance. Like, yeah, I knew that he could dance, but not like this. His movements are so sharp that I feel like my attention is being—”

Right there.

She cuts herself off, reaching the same conclusion.

“It’s his turn to talk, and he wants you to cling to his every word," Haeun articulates slowly. "He’s demanding your attention. He needs you to listen. That’s how he performs.”

A satisfied smile bolts across your face like lightning. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”

Haeun pictures her scrapbook again, and there are now only a few articles of clothing and accessories that fit the framework you’ve helped her forge. She’s almost dizzy with disbelief, tearing her eyes from Han to look at you instead.

“You’re brilliant, you know that?”

“I do, but I appreciate the reminder.”

She can’t help but giggle. It’s a you answer if she’s ever heard one. “Do you do that with all of your clients?”

Haeun asks the question arbitrarily, without thinking. But you respond in a way that she doesn’t think she’s ever witnessed before, and she’s momentarily baffled by the sight: you hesitate.

As the song’s final chorus approaches, Hyunjin is the one folding himself into the center of the eight-person throng. You can only see his back from this angle, but even then it’s palpable how expertly and effortlessly he molds his body to the modulations of the music; how much fervor and feeling he expresses with every jerk of his spine and flex of his hands.

Within a few short seconds, innumerable descriptors and sensations skim the surface of your mind—but one word knocks the rest clean out of the water, the way it always does when you watch Hwang Hyunjin perform.

Artistry.

“No,” you reply. “Not all of them.”

And where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?

Haeun furrows a brow, understandably puzzled by this response, but you don’t elaborate. Partially because you feel like being coy, but mostly because you know that any explanation you offer will sound like a confession.

The song ends, leaving your ears ringing with the abrupt absence of sound. The members hold their poses with heaving shoulders, staring out into the empty stands until the stage manager’s voice comes through the monitors.

“And that’s a wrap! We’re all set for tonight. Good work, everyone.”

There is a ripple of movement around the stage as the boys relax. Jeongin jogs over to Minho, hoping to review a particularly challenging dance break; the manager asks Chan if he has a second to discuss travel logistics; Seungmin plops onto the edge of the stage and downs the rest of his water; Hyunjin beelines toward you the second he sees you, because of course he does.

You get a good look at him as he skips closer. Stray blonde locks plastered against his damp skin, tank top dyed several shades darker by the perspiration rolling down his neck, the muscles of his arms actually rippling as he swings them around stupidly, a shit-eating smile plastered across his stunning face.

You’re annoyed before he says a word.

“I didn’t know they were letting fans backstage now,” he hums happily. “Want an autograph, gorgeous?”

“Put a sock in it.” You whisk the towel you’ve been holding in his direction. “Wet freak.”

But he catches and tosses it over his shoulder straightaway, and your heart sinks to your fucking ankle. You’ve seen this movie before. You know how it ends.

“No.” You take a shaky step back. “No, nope, don’t even think about—”

The next thing you know, Hyunjin is lunging towards you and winding his arms around your waist, nearly sweeping you clean off your feet as he pulls you into his sweaty embrace. To your complete dismay, your face presses flat against the clammy plane of his chest. “Call me a wet freak again, go on,” he manages to say through his laughter.

In response, one of your hands wriggles free of its slippery prison and snatches the cuff of Hyunjin’s ear with impressive accuracy. He yelps and loosens his hold on you, but doesn’t relent completely, not even when he catches sight of the murderous expression on your face and cackles so forcefully his whole head is thrown back.

You tighten your grip. “Wet,” you seethe, “freak.”

“Ow—okay, don’t make it hot, what’s wrong with you?”

“Wha—what’s wrong with YOU?!”

As the two of you dissolve into your fatuous arguing, Haeun is no longer sure that she’s still standing here. She’s not even sure if she’s in her right mind anymore. She thinks she might be hallucinating the way everything about Hyunjin softens next to you, or the way your biting tone only seems to nibble when it’s him on the receiving end.

“Psst. We’ve been placing bets on them. You want in?”

Han suddenly materializes next to Haeun, and she would have been jumpscared into a different dimension if she wasn’t so fixated upon the bizarre occurrence before her.

But what if she’s not hallucinating?

No, not all of them, you’d said, like you were disclosing a forbidden secret.

“Yes,” she says, and Han beams. “Absolutely.”

Three months ago. Seoul, South Korea. 2:26 A.M.

On a tranquil Saturday night, you’re sitting at your desk, your knees tucked to your chest, the newest episode of your drama playing quietly on your laptop, a half-empty glass of rosé and open sketchbook laid before you. This is your happy place—a safe haven that the trials and tribulations of the real world can’t reach. But you think you’ve really gone and lost your mind when you find yourself thinking about your job.

Well, not your job, exactly. More like the man who makes your job feel fucking Sisyphean.

You know your way around fabric and foundation better than anyone, but you have never struggled with anything as much as you have trying to navigate Hyunjin. You show up to work every day ready to just put some makeup on the man; instead, you wind up stumbling around the potholes of his dimples and the hills of the veins that run over his forearms and hands like a hopeless drunkard. Scouring the creases of his smile and the oscillations of his voice like they’re topographical maps. Mentally replaying your interactions with him time and time again like you’re monitoring security footage, trying to detect illicit activity in every casual touch he leaves on your shoulder or waist; every babe or gorgeous he throws your way, seemingly without a second thought.

You’ve been trying to understand him and his intentions for seven months now, and your efforts have yielded no fruit whatsoever, save for a few theories that you feel insane for even humoring.

You down the rest of the blush-colored liquid, and as you set down your empty glass you notice your fingers itch with a familiar urge. The pen that you’ve been twirling over your knuckles stills, then swivels; its tip hovers over the last free corner of the sheet of cartridge paper below you. And then it presses upon the surface and starts to move, as naturally as if on its own.

When you were little, you came across a children’s book that you no longer remember the name of, about a little girl with a magical pen that brought her every drawing to life. You decided then that you would one day be that girl.

At some point, the subjects of your incessant sketching became almost exclusively runway models and makeup advertisements. You cemented that you wanted to work in fashion as early as your high school graduation, and by then you already possessed the conviction and charisma of the industry’s most experienced members. Your portfolio was stellar; your personality prophesied of wild success. So your career took off, propelled by the neverending positions and projects that various companies continually laid before your feet.

You stand and pad to your kitchen to refill your glass, only to bring the entire bottle of wine back to your room instead. With one hand, you flick the cap off and lift the whole thing to your lips; with the other, you seize your pen again, not wanting to lose momentum.

For the year or so after you joined the industry, you basked in your idyllic prosperity. Even the doodles you scrawled on random napkins during banal business lunches would appear on some of the world’s most renowned faces the next week. You had indubitably become the little girl from your story; made a career out of giving your imagination tangible form. And what a fruitful career it was going to be.

If only you knew how it would strengthen you in ways you never wanted.

The first time someone called you cold, it took you a while to realize that they were talking about you. The phrase was said so casually and lightheartedly that it sounded at first like a piece of unimportant small talk. But the whisper of cold bitch was then followed by a bout of stifled laughter and what was undoubtedly your name. Your heart stopped along with your footsteps, and you looked towards the source: two interns whose names you had yet to learn, while yours was already in their mouths.

You felt nothing until you were three stops away from your apartment, and then the bottom of the subway gave out beneath you and suddenly you were feeling everything. Only confusion, hurt, and rage at first, but then the other emotions that you’d been smothering tirelessly for who-knows-how-long tore free of their cerebral shackles too, and together they formed an amalgamation of anxiety that closed up your throat within seconds.

As your pen studs details into a shapely jawline, you remember how you’d shoved your way off the subway and made a mad dash into the night air. You remember how you collapsed against a utility pole in an unfamiliar neighborhood, how your knuckles paled around the ashen wood, how your tears tumbled over your lips and salted your tongue. You remember wanting to go home so badly that you thought your ribcage would cave in on itself with the weight of it. You remember begging for air, for you.

By the time the oxygen had returned to your lungs, the streets were empty save for you, crouched on the curb, your face buried in your arms, spent, shattered, and alone. You were only nineteen at the time.

You are now twenty-two, and the word “cold” has become a regular guest in the lodgings of your heart. You never invite it over, but you’re no longer surprised to find it at your door. It’s a thief, swiping pieces of you when it thinks you’re not looking—a fragment above the fireplace, a scrap from the cracks between the couch—and you know whenever you’re being robbed, know that you lose parts of yourself upon its every visit. But better that than acknowledging what you lose.

You allow it to walk away with full pockets every time.

Hyunjin does not.

“Three words to describe yourself. Go,” he said a few days ago, the two of you heading back to the tour bus after a filming session.

You were so used to these irrational inquiries of his that you didn’t bother trying to dodge this one. “You first.”

“Smart, sexy, suave,” he said immediately, but burst into a sheepish laugh at the sight of your weary glare. “Fine, fine, let me think. Ambitious, for one. Introspective, definitely—maybe overly so. And artistic. I’d like to think so, at least. Satisfied?”

The most creative person you knew doubting his own ingenuity was absurd to you, but you nodded begrudgingly. It was a good answer, for the most part.

“Now you.”

Honestly, the thief had surfaced the moment you heard the question, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to inform Hyunjin of its existence. Not because you didn’t trust him—you did, more than you had anyone in years—but because you didn’t know what you’d do with yourself if he agreed. You weren’t sure your heart would be able to take it.

When you met the boy’s gaze, though, the carob brown of his eyes was so curious and so comforting that you suspected that was never a possibility.

“Cold,” you mumbled. “I’ve been called cold before.”

There was a pregnant pause. You found yourself holding your breath. And then—

“That’s a joke, right?”

Hyunjin began to count off his fingers.

“Mean. So mean. Impossibly, infuriatingly confident. Talented, stubborn, strong. Funny, sometimes, I guess, though I’d rather you hit me with a metal pipe than admit that ever again.”

At this, you caved; a laugh erupted from your lips, leaving a genuine smile in its wake.

“Determined. Eloquent. Bossy. Some kind of evil, twisted genius. Contemplative, caring, compassionate. Fearless,” he went on. “You get my point. You’re a lot of things, Y/N, but cold isn’t one—”

He was about to say something mind-numbingly stupid. You could sense it in the air.

“—and not just because you’re hot.”

You smacked his bicep, the smile on your face now an uninhibited, helpless grin. And as he vanished into a fit of high-pitched laughter, you thought you sensed him crack open your door and slip your missing artifacts back to their rightful places.

Hyunjin began to climb into the bus, and you caught the cuff of his sleeve, your feet still planted on the pavement.

“Thank you,” you said.

The tremors of his fond chuckle traveled to your very core.

“Idiot,” he sighed softly.

Idiot, you write, and the drawings are complete.

When you stand up, the bottle is mostly gone—and so are you. You splash some water on your face in lieu of your skincare routine and prod the inside of your mouth a few times using a dry toothbrush, and then you dive beneath your duvet and are dead asleep in minutes. Your slumber is interrupted only by dreams of a world where your theories about Hyunjin aren’t just theories.

If you’d had even one mouthful less of rosé, you might’ve remembered that you picked up your phone and opened your most recent conversation somewhere between steps two and three.

[3:10 A.M.] To: Hwang Hyunjin (Stray Kids, JYP) Audio Message.wav

Hi. I’m drunk and I’m going to regret this tomorrow. But that’s tomorrow’s business. There’s something I need to tell you tonight.

After I moved to Seoul, I used to get these bouts of homesickness. Not in a standard ‘I wanna go home’ kind of way, but in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below me. I was always ready for it to swallow me alive. I would’ve been happy for it to.

But I haven’t felt that way since I met you. I realized this not too long ago, and it threw me for a fucking loop. I’ve never felt seen the way you see me. I’ve never been known the way you know me. Every time I look at you or hear your voice, it feels so much like returning home that I don’t have to dream of it anymore.

You called me fearless the other day, but you’re wrong. I’m terrified. I’m terrified that history is going to repeat itself, that another home will slip through the cracks between my fingers and there will be nothing I can do to stop it. And that’s why I’m so hesitant towards you, towards whatever this is, because I don’t want to go through that ever again.

So the thing I need to tell you is that I care about you. I care so much that I’m scared speaking it into existence will make it real and vulnerable to all the worst parts of the world. But it’s not speaking it into existence if I’m drunk, right? Maybe I have no idea what I’m talking about. Maybe you’ll never even hear this. So it doesn’t count. That’s how that works, surely.

Sorry if this was totally nonsensical. And sorry that I’m so bad at feelings. You must think I’m impossible, and I don’t blame you.

Good night, Hyunjin. Thank you, again.

One month ago. Los Angeles, United States. 12:37 A.M.

When Hyunjin steps out of the hotel’s tall glass double doors, he’s wearing a teatree facemask, and his bags are draped over the crooks of his elbows like he’s an upper-echelon socialite on his way back from a lavish shopping spree. And then he sees you standing next to the curb, and the situation dawns on him in bits and pieces.

You’re the only one here. The vans that were supposed to take you to the airport are nowhere to be seen. Boarding begins in four minutes.

A soft flinch crimps his features. Oops.

“Tomorrow night,” you’re saying into your receiver, but your attention is on him only, your penetrative gaze putting the dead in deadpan. “The absolute earliest. You’re sure?”

When you finish listening to the manager’s response, you heave a sigh that sags your shoulders and end the call with a jab that should’ve splintered your screen protector.

Then, you start walking towards him.

“Hi,” Hyunjin says, his eyes pleading for mercy. “You are so talented and beautiful. I don’t tell you that often enough, do I?”

He expects you to grab him by the cuff of his ear again, to throw him a retort that’s twice as mean as it is witty, something along those lines. But you merely push your suitcase in his direction, and it is then when he notices that your face is hard enough to chip enamel; that your eyes are eerily, entirely empty. The tendril of warmth that’s always dancing among the subtleties of your expressions, that he’s always pursuing to the very borders of his dreamscapes, is nowhere to be seen.

A shiver travels down Hyunjin’s spine as he curls his fingers around the plastic handle.

Something’s not right.

“We’re gonna have to stay here another day,” you say. “Can you check us in? I have some calls to make.”

“Us?” Hyunjin repeats.

“Junghan could only reserve one room,” you reply, your phone already glued back to your ear. “The hotel is fully booked for the next few months.”

With that, you’re already preoccupied with the next thing, turning to the side to reschedule a meeting. But Hyunjin can only stare blankly at your profile, trying and failing to grasp that he’s going to spend a night with the subject of his every daydream. Though you might be leaning more towards the nightmare end of the spectrum at the moment, considering the way your head snaps back in his direction like a woman possessed.

Go, you mouth, and he obliges.

A few minutes later, Hyunjin is in the elevator by himself. He speculates it’s an ingenious, intentional choice that the lights are turned off, so that whoever’s inside can watch the psychedelic lights of Los Angeles sprawl further and wider the higher they go. But he can’t think of anything except for the subzero nothingness where your irises should’ve been.

Hyunjin’s initial guess was that he crossed a line with this missed plane, but the more he thinks about it the clearer it becomes that this isn’t an isolated issue. It’s the culmination of something bigger. Something continuous.

You have become as familiar to him as the lines of his eyes or the ridges of his knuckles. He’s learned where to look for your feelings when he can’t find them in your face; studied your words and the undertones of your voice like they’re verses of scripture. Yet, it was around two months ago when Hyunjin looked at your side profile and couldn’t recognize you. He’d blinked, startled, and then you’d asked why he was looking at you so strangely, and everything returned to normal. He wrote it off as a side effect of sleep deprivation and paid it no more mind that day.

Except it happened again a few days later; again, not too long after, and Hyunjin began to suspect that he was losing his mind. You didn’t seem all that different—a bit more taciturn than usual, maybe, but you’d been busier than usual, too, your workspace always full of empty coffee cups by the end of the day, the pages of your planner more colorful and crammed than ever. The minor variances never struck him as a reason for worry.

“Stupid,” Hyunjin whispers bitterly.

He replays your interaction one more time. You, shoving your suitcase against his palm, telling him to go check in. Him, fastening his hand around the handle, sensing the bottomless void within you, feeling like he’d been dismissed from before your throne.

As he steps off the elevator and walks towards your designated room, he doesn’t understand how or why—but he can’t shake the feeling that he’s failed you.

Nearly an hour passes. The room only has one bed, so Hyunjin turns off the lights, folds himself onto the armchair by the floor-to-ceiling window, drapes a complimentary robe over his shoulders, and tries to sleep. He doesn’t know why he even tries. He’s exhausted, but he knows damn well there’s no hope of him getting any rest until he has you in his proximity again.

He doesn’t look at the door when he finally hears it open, but the knot of tension in his chest comes undone as soon as your silhouette appears in the hallway. He takes out his first real breath since leaving you at the hotel’s entrance.

You hear the sound it makes. You fall still.

“Hyunjin?”

His heart physically aches at how tired you sound. “Yeah?”

“Oh, you’re awake,” you answer. “Move to the bed. You’re not sleeping on that thing.”

He remains where he is, his chin resting on the side of his fist, his eyes glued to the flickering panorama of neon lights below him. You crouch to unzip something, and there’s a heavy thud of metal meeting cloth, presumably your laptop being tossed onto the bed’s mattress.

“Hello? Did you—”

“Is everything okay?”

A short pause follows his interruption.

“I still have a few emails to write, but everything’s been rescheduled, so as long as you don’t miss tomorrow’s flight, too, we should be—”

The robe slides off his lap as he pushes himself to his feet. “That’s not what I mean.”

The only source of light in the room is the lone light above the entrance, but it’s enough for him to see your face and the surprise etched upon it. You open your mouth, utter one syllable, and stop yourself immediately after, stunned into silence by the sobriety in Hyunjin’s expression.

“Enlighten me, then,” you say finally.

“You really don’t know?”

“What is there to know? That you missed a flight and pissed me the fuck off? Trust me, I’m aware.”

“No, that’s not—”

“So what are you talking about, then? Why are you talking in riddles? Fuck, what is it that you want from me?”

There’s real frustration in your voice, and it’s the first time you’ve shown him any emotion in pure, unadulterated form. With this, Hyunjin understands that he was right; this conversation is heading towards a culmination of some kind, and so are you, with the devastating force of a natural phenomenon.

He wonders if you’re prepared to destroy yourself, too.

“I know how you are around me,” you whisper. “You’re always acting like you’re trying to unearth something, and I figure this ‘something’ must be wonderful, because you look at me like I’m made of stars; you speak to me like you’re serenading a lover. But I am constantly, ceaselessly haunted by the possibility that this ‘something’ doesn’t exist, that you’re looking for the wrong thing in the wrong person.

“I know it’s selfish to ask for anything more than what you’ve already given me—you’re so kind, Hyunjin, and you’ve been nothing but since the day we met. But grant me one more wish, even if it is the last time you ever do.

“Tell me what you see in me,” you plead. “Otherwise, I will spend the rest of my life mourning the months of yours that you wasted on me.”

With that, it occurs to Hyunjin, falls upon and cracks open his mind like a piece of firewood, that you have never been aware of—never asked for—the throne you sit upon.

For an indeterminate amount of time, the two of you stay there, standing in silence on opposite sides of your dark hotel room. You haven’t felt anything like this in a long time, your chest heaving with your heavy breaths, your vision muddied by both the lack of light and the desperation searing through your windpipe.

When Hyunjin finally begins to speak, his words wrest the oxygen from your lungs.

“After you moved to Seoul, you used to get these bouts of homesickness.”

Your mind careens; your heart reels.

“They came in a way that felt like a hole had opened up in the ground below you.” He takes a tentative step towards you. “You thought it was going to swallow you alive. You would’ve been happy for it to.”

You never got to listen to your voice note. You were blacked out when you recorded it and horrified when you discovered it in your chat logs the next morning; the wretched thing was unsent so quickly that you couldn’t check for a read receipt.

But there’s not a doubt in your mind that these are your words falling from Hyunjin’s lips.

“You haven’t felt that way since you met me, though.” He is only a few feet away from you now, and getting closer still. “You’ve never felt seen the way I see you. You’ve never been known the way I know you.”

God, you said that? Did you propose to him too?

“You’re terrified that another home will slip through the cracks between your fingers and there will be nothing you can do to stop it.” Hyunjin flattens his left hand upon the drywall next to your ear; pushes you back ever-so-gently against the hard surface. “I must think you’re impossible.”

And he brings his face so, so close to yours; looks at you with so much adoration, so much tenderness, that you feel the final bulwark around your heart fracture—

“I don’t,” Hyunjin breathes, cradling your cheek, “because you’re not. And I want to prove it to you, even if it takes me the rest of my life. That’s what I see in you.”

—and crumble.

You form fists in the lining of his hoodie. Hyunjin’s hand tightens where it lays over the curve of your jaw.

When you crash your lips upon his, he tastes the metallic sheen of electricity and the salt of tearwater both; he witnesses crying lightning, for the first time in human history.

Present day. Cannes, France. 9:15 P.M.

Hyunjin never thinks when he fucks you.

One part of it is that he physically can’t; his cognitive facilities shut down when he has you quivering beneath him, like his desire to pleasure you is too overwhelming for his mind to bear. The other part is that he doesn’t want to. He’s afraid that the voices of cynicism and trepidation that plague his mind every waking moment will taint the actualization of his wildest dreams.

Lucky for him, you manage to erase his mind on a daily basis with only one accidental touch or an apparition of a smile, so he doesn’t stand a chance whenever you let him between your legs.

“Trust me?” He whispers, imprinting the words upon the inside of your thigh.

“More than anyone,” you breathe, and just this has him tenting against his satin slacks.

Hyunjin used to see you scolding managers or moving racks twice your weight and think that was you in your element—tonight, he learned otherwise. You were so confident that even just the way you puffed your chest out prompted heads to turn and low voices to ask for your name; so charming that even by the end of your self-introduction you had every guest you spoke to eating out the palm of your hand.

Eating out your pussy, though, is Hyunjin’s privilege alone.

He wraps his fingers around the hem of your dress and pushes it upwards, creating a halo of red fabric around your midriff; slides your panties off your legs and tosses them over his shoulder. All obstacles out of the way, Hyunjin winds his arms around your thighs and pins your hips to the mattress, slotting himself between your knees as they fall apart. Your ankles fold over the top of his head, and you’re about to ask if he’s okay like this, but then you feel the hot muscle of his tongue trace over your dripping folds—and every word of every language you’ve ever known is dispelled from your brain and your mouth in the form of a stuttered, euphoric moan.

He teases you first, drags his mouth over you so that he’s lapped up all of your slick, and just when you feel your patience thinning he pulls you apart with reverent hands and begins to suckle on your clit, as attentive to your every solicitation as always. You arch your back so high off the bed that your ankles knock Hyunjin’s head down a few inches, but the new angle is even better; grants him access to more of you.

He reinforces his grip around you, presses his torso right up against the side of the mattress, and gorges: sluices your labia until you’re spilling from his chin onto the sheets; flicks against your bundle of nerves until it’s pulsating and swollen on his mouth; fucks his tongue against your favorite spot until you’re curling your toes, seeing the whole solar system.

“Coming,” you blabber after some time. Tell me something I don’t know, he thinks to himself. “Coming, Hyune. I’m—fuck—”

Hyunjin is aware of the way you clench so hard around nothing that your pelvis hurts. He is aware of the way you’re so dilapidated from pleasure that you’re genuinely struggling to breathe. He doesn’t care. He wants to get the cadences of your climax tattooed into the gray matter of his brain, and there can’t be rests in the sheet music, can there?

He presses a hand flat on your stomach in preparation for your body’s protest, then returns his face to its place between your thighs; starts to leave kitten licks around the edges of your puffy folds before you can finish riding out your high. You press your tongue against the back of your front teeth, emitting a pained hiss as you draw a sharp breath, tears stinging at your eyes.

“Son of a bitch—”

“Trust me?” He asks again, his voice vibrating against your sore cunt, and your complaints quiet into whimpers as you bring a hand over your quivering mouth, and nod.

At least Hyunjin bridles his thirst the second time he eats your pussy open, his lips smacking openly and slowly over your every inch except the one that would be truly unbearable for you right now. He’s so rough and so fucking careful at once like he can’t decide between obliterating and worshipping your cunt.

He’ll end up doing both.

Within a few minutes, your legs have gone slack on either side of Hyunjin once again, and another coil has begun to tighten behind your bellybutton, equal parts pain and pleasure—but he knows your pussy just as well as he does your person by now, and it’s not long before the former is compounding with the latter.

Round two has a faster ascent and a steeper drop. He finds your spot again with the precision and ease of a trained marksman and fixates upon it like a man starved. It has your cries devolving to incoherent profanities and, to his unfettered delight, your foot actually shaking, your heel tapping against the back of his neck every time it comes down.

As if referencing a metronome, Hyunjin matches the rhythm of his tongue to your accelerando. Only when your leg is nearly convulsing does he wrap his lips back around your clit; slide two fingers into the place he leaves empty and pumps them into you until you are liquifying, igniting around him, your mewls lamenting the second orgasm he plucks from your core.

After your body has stilled, Hyunjin lifts his head, his face drenched in perspiration and saliva and you. His eyes travel over the slopes of your arms and the hills of your breasts, over the tears streaming from your eyes and staining the pillow you lie on. It is this last bit that has him shrugging off his shirt and undoing his dress pants with one hand, palming his throbbing cock with the other.

He clambers over you, and the kiss that follows is filthy, your mouth falling apart when he rolls your nipples between his fingers, strands of spit suspending between your tongues before dripping down onto your collarbone. You can sense what he wants in his craving lips, his pleading tongue—and you know he won’t ask for it. He’s tested you enough tonight; he’d rather your comfort than his pleasure.

But you guide his leaking head to your entrance, returning his stupefied look with a watery smile.

“Love me?” You ask this time, for the first time.

There is not even a nanosecond of hesitation when he answers, “with everything in me.”

He comes inside you the moment he bottoms out, your name leaving his lips in breathless, desperate repetition like a broken prayer as he topples off the same cliff he’d dropped you from moments ago. You curl a hand in his hair as he stutters against you, bring your lips flush against his ear, and whisper that you love him too—and the sight of you beneath him blurs he also starts to tear up.

This is the reality Hyunjin lives in, presumably because he was a saint in his past life, and it would be his utmost pleasure to see it through.

Two years later. Milan, Italy. 11:28 A.M.

For the last half hour, a ray of sunlight has repeatedly struck the diamond that sits between the second and third knuckle of your ring finger, and the Vogue journalist on the other side of your desk thinks he is slowly losing his vision. But when he asks his final question, your hand comes to a much-appreciated stop, the fountain pen you’ve been twirling around clattering to your tabletop.

“Where do you find your inspiration?”

As the journalist blinks the phosphenes from his eyes, he finally manages to get a good look at the face of Versace’s newest designer, and he detects something ineffable and warm in your expression.

“My inspiration, hm?” You fall silent for a short time, thinking. “If you asked me this at the start of my career, I’d have said ‘people.’ Their postures, their expressions, their wardrobes. I knew I was a goner when I watched a fashion show for the first time and noticed how the models’ attire helped them harness their innate power and grace—I wanted to orchestrate that kind of symbiosis, too. In that aspect, nothing has changed, actually. I still find wonder in human beings, and not just the ones on the runway. I think it would be difficult not to, don’t you?

“Some time ago, a good friend of mine was having trouble with an outfit for her client. She asked me a similar question, and only then did I realize that it was no longer just people that inspired me most, but a singular person. I had always been skeptical of the idea of a ‘muse’ until I met him. But I could only spend so long denying how he ventured closer to my soul than anything ever had, how he knew me and saw me like nobody ever could. He understood my art. He was my art, so—”

Your eyes dart over your ring, and the journalist would’ve flinched out of habit if he wasn’t so mesmerized by your eloquence.

“—where better to find inspiration than inspiration himself?”

A few seconds elapse, and then you clear your throat and straighten your back, returning to your office from your trip down memory lane.

“That’s the long answer, anyways. The short answer would be my fiancé.”

The journalist laughs, and he doubts you’ll give him this next piece of information—but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t try.

“And who would that be?”

He’s right. You don’t answer the question. But you do flash him an enigmatic smile, and for some reason it reminds him of lightning.

🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe

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crystallilytarot · 7 months

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Choose a stuffie. Messages from your future partner

Pile 1 - panda

I think there will be a big change in your life before you two meet, or a big change is happening now. Your future partner said keep going. Please, don't give up. I know it's hard, but it will worth it, please, just keep trying, just hold on a little longer. Do it for me baby. I am coming sooner than you think. We will have a happy family together. (for some of you it can be pets too) We will be so happy, I promise you. All the things you dreamed about, it will be a reality soon. Our love is a little bit like a fairytale. We will also be best friends too. I love you so much! It's hard for me too, but we have to keep believing and keep going. I'm sending you a lot of kisses. Don't give up hope honey!

I also think number 6 and 9 can be significant here, and some water, a lake, beach, sand, and sunshine. Your life will be more happy when you meet. I think your partner and your story is wholesome, I almost teared up, it's beautiful.

Pile 2 - teddy

I feel that you and your partner both had some negative experiences when it comes to love. They said, they know what you are going through. They were betrayed and heartbroken too. They know they still have some issues they need to work on, but they feel better every day. I think they need a little more time, but they are not so far away. Or maybe physically far from you, I feel they live elsewhere or can be a foreigner too. Feels like their voice is a little distant. But I think they only have a little trust issue now, they are almost ready to open up again. And once they arrive, they will be an emotionally available, mature person, a good material for a relationship. They will be so understanding, caring, loving. They will be patient if you need time to anything. You can talk to them about anything literally. Once they are in your life, they will make a lot of efforts to sweep you off your feet, they want you and they will do everything to prove it for you. You both will be healed, everything forgotten, because it's like one in a lifetime kinda relationship. I honestly feel like nothing matters as long as you are there for each other. You are in a bubble, you are finally safe, you are loved. And they said they love you and never forget, that you are worthy. You are precious. And you are a real treasure for them! They want to send you a ❤️ too.

Also grey, numbers 3,6, and letters M or H can be significant.

Pile 3 - bunny

They are very proud of you. You are so strong, and you should be proud of yourself too. You are right when you stand up for yourself. Don't let anyone tell you what to do, it's your life! You two feels like a power couple. I think communication will be very good. They are someone who you can finally talk to. You are both so smart. They said nobody was in your level, so of course you wasn't a good match with anyone, because you are a gem. You deserve better. They also feels like someone who stand up for their loved ones and for what they believe. And if someone treats you wrong, they will have a word with them for sure. Also if you want to move to another place, they will help you with it. Or for some of you, if you want to change your job or something, they said do it. It can be scary, but it's needed, you should really do it. Maybe you feel lonely sometimes, and they know there are days when it's hard, but those people around you won't understand you. You're a high quality person, so you need someone high quality too, like them. They said you will definitely travel a lot, together and you will move to a place where you will be very happy, where you can be yourself. If you are in a toxic environment now, this new place will be so much better. A real home. And they also said that they will love your body very much, they will admire you.

Numbers 2 and 9 can be significant, also a long item, maybe a sword, a tree, and a crown. You will be the rich, elegant, high value couple from a fanfiction.

#tarot #free tarot #pick a card #pick a pile

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honeytonedhottie · 7 months

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giving urself princess treatment⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

princess treatment feels AMAZING when ur receiving it from others, but when ur receiving princess treatment from yourself, the feeling that u get from it is unmatched. no one can love u better then u can love you ✨

YOUR SPACE ;

turn ur space into your own palace. keep fresh flowers in ur room and keep ur space clean and tidy. surround urself with beautiful things for a beautiful mind.

light sweet smelling candles, invest in ur space bcuz we spend a lot of time in our bedrooms so turn that into a sanctuary.

NEVER SAY NO TO DESSERT ;

i dont like the term "guilty pleasures" because why should we feel guilt for things that bring us pleasure? like having ur cute drink of the day or having extra dessert? let yourself indulge in what u love. everything in moderation ofc but dont deny yourself something like that. you're a princess.

cute pastries

fruit with honey

rich teas and milks

indulge in sweet treats like fruits with honey, or frosted cupcakes with sprinkles. stay sweet~

INTENTION AND DESIGNATION ;

have a designated space where u do _ activity. or have a designated cup that u drink ur favorite tea in. putting intention into the things that u do helps u feel like a princess.

also have intention with the things that u say and the things that u continuously think every single day bcuz as we all know "our thoughts manifest"

have good posture

say ur affirmations

use sweet smelling lotions and perfumes on your body, intentionally sleep 8 hours a night and have a designated time for a nap bcuz a princess needs her beauty sleep.

"I DESERVE IT" MENTALITY ;

you deserve that new dress that u want. you deserve whatever ur manifesting. YOU DESERVE IT. you deserve everything good in your life and dont believe anything or anyone who tells you different. when you think of what you deserve you should only think of the best.

with that being said dont deny yourself your desires especially if u have the ability to give it to yourself (which u do)

remember how deserving you are of the good things in life. you deserve to feel the sun on ur skin, you deserve to be loved by yourself, you deserve to take a bubble bath.

LISTEN TO BEAUTIFUL CLASSICAL PIECES ;

listen to classical music or better yet, pick up an instrument that seems magical to you. maybe learn to play your favorite pieces on the piano, or learn how to play the harp.

ATTITUDE ;

offer your help when u have the capacity to do so, give out compliments and smile at people. be nice!! helping others when u can is a beautiful thing that a princess would do.

know that you are a princess and move accordingly. since u know that u deserve the best dont settle for anything less then the best. be willing to walk away from whats considered the "norm" for something better.

BE WILLING TO GO THE EXTRA MILE ;

be willing to do the extra things in order to make ur life easier or more enjoyable in the near/far future. have your own back!! when ur willing to go the extra mile, you'll reap more. bcuz ur not mediocre ✨

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calisources · 6 months

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𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐓𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐐𝐔𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒.

All sentences here were taken from different media about possessive love, the thrill of the chase, banter, and competition regarding one's affection. Some have foul language so please beware but most are fun, banter, possessive fun. All of these are made for roleplay purposes. Change names, pronouns, locations as you see fit.

I love you. You’re mine. I’ll kill any bastard who tries to take you from me.

I spend a quarter of every day inside you.

I have never said this to anyone before.

But the idea of you with child is the most insanely arousing thing I’ve ever imagined.

Your belly all swollen, your breasts heavy, the funny little way you would walk … I would worship you. I would take care of your every need. And everyone would know that I’d made you that way, that you belonged to me.

You want to be free. You also want to be mine. You can't be both.

We can't possess one another.

Just because I can't have you right now, doesn't mean I'm okay with him having you.

I will be good to you, Myst. Please, I promise.

You are mine. And I protect what’s mine.

Of course I won't go alone. I shall take my maid.

No.You will take me.

The purpose of a knight is to protect. Why won’t you let him do his job to me?

I want you all to myself.

I can’t explain to you the joy I feel knowing it’s all mine. That you are all mine, that your body is all mine.

There is something in me that wakes up when I want something, a possession.

God knows he deserved you more than I do.

Listen well, for you belong to me.

Good grief, you’re such an adorably greedy person.

And when you fall in love with her just keep in mind that she’s mine.

She’s more than you could handle, anyway.

That almost sounds like a challenge.

I don’t need your permission to do anything.

Your hands will touch me and no one else, Meadow. That is final.

You chase off every man that’s ever been interested, and you do it without even trying.

You reject every suitor and yet, you keep entertaining me. I believe you want me too, and you are dying to be touched.

I don't own you, you just belong to me.

You’re my gold, your cunt is my liquid gold.

I will have your mouth, you will give it to me. Then I will have your spirit, Circe. I will own it. Always.

By the gods you have never been more beautiful than you are right now, spread before me, wrapped in my wool.

Once I take you, you are mine. My woman. No other man can have you.

I do not belong to you, or to anyone else. I will talk to whomever I want, whenever I want.

Not if it’s some ass who thinks he can put his hands on you.

You didn’t have a problem with me acting like a caveman last night.

When it comes to you… I don’t like to share.

Most men prefer to do the eating.

Do you know what passion is?

Most people think it only means desire. Arousal. Wild abandon. But that’s not all. The word derives from the Latin. It means suffering. Submission. Pain and pleasure, Nikki. Passion.

You’re wearing my colors, love.

I’m going to put you on your knees, Ruby. You’re going to hate how much you love it.

He is my king, he is my warrior, he is my husband and I am proud to say above all… he is mine.

You have rare beauty the like I have never seen but you will be more beautiful heavy with my seed.

You are my golden queen. You are my tigress. You are my Circe.

Never will I allow your gold to be taken from me. Never. Understand this, Circe, and never forget.

Maybe I fell in love with a version of him that didn't exist.

I would have you right here if you would let me. Fear you? I exalt you.

You could burn me a thousand times, and I would still want you for my own.

Everything has a price. The price, however, isn't always money.

You’re my scariest hell, You’re my perfect paradise.

Well, I admit my crib is pretty sweet. But a gold cage is still a cage, Harry.

I intend to the last.

If I win, then you shall be mine. Tonight.

You are so sure of yourself.

The game is simple. The women run, the men chase. If you catch the one with your color. . .well, that’s up to you.

But women have been running all their lives, most men don’t catch that easily.

We are in a maze, lost, and your hand is up my skirt.

Aye, but I don’t hear any complaints. The maze will hide our secret.

#roleplay memes #sentence meme #( cali meme. )#rp memes #rp prompt #rp musings #roleplay prompt #posessive meme #competition meme

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actiniumwrites · 4 months

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hii may i request a hurt/comfort scenario with kazuha and alhaitham where reader feels insecure about their looks >< no need to specify what they feel insecure about specifically but they just don’t think they’re pretty enough for charac !!!

worthy

synopsis: you don’t feel good enough for them. they beg to differ.

characters: kazuha, alhaitham x gn!reader (separate)

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst to fluff, insecurity, crying, some humor, not proofread

notes: thanks for the request, anon! hopefully you enjoy this, i really liked how kazuha’s turned out. alhaitham was so difficult to write for this prompt though 🥲

Kazuha:

You don’t know when it started. When, one day, your brain decided to make the shift from feeling the luckiest in the world to feeling utterly trapped. Maybe it was the way people looked at him, or maybe it was the way you never felt deserving of him in the first place, but either way, it didn’t matter.

It started in little things. Most days it just consisted of you wallowing in your reflection anytime you caught a glimpse of it. A passing moment of painful recollection that makes you feel less than deserving of him.

“Are you alright?” your boyfriend blurts out randomly. It isn’t like him, you think. Kazuha has never been the type of person to waste his words so suddenly without thought. His words are usually sugar coated and flow gently in the wind so as to not evoke harsh emotions.

The question makes you visibly pause. Quietly, you clasp your hands together to stop them from the inevitable shaking. Your shoulders seem to droop a little further and he hates the way your bottom lip dips into a depressing tremble.

“I’m sorry,” you exhale defeatedly, bringing a shaky hand up to cover your mouth.

“What for? I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong,” his gentle white brows furrow. You hate how concerned he looks. Couldn’t he just be angry for once? At least then you wouldn’t feel so insane.

You bury your face in your hands, trying to shield yourself from not only him, but the entire world. It constantly feels like you have prying eyes on you, tearing apart each and every feature on your body. And, just as you predicted earlier, the tears you’ve become long acquainted with begin to make their way to the forefront of your eyes until they’re too heavy to hold.

Kazuha gently pushes your hands aside, instinctively placing them in your lap so he could wipe away your sadness. Still, you hang your head against your aching chest and let the pain seep out through your voice, “Don’t you hate it? The way I look? Doesn’t it bother you?”

“Bother me? No. Of course not. I love everything about you. I could gaze into a thousand sunsets and the view still wouldn’t be as alluring as you are. There is no amount of stars in the beaming night sky or the deep red of fresh autumn leaves that could compare to you. Every time my hand aches to write a piece of poetry, it longs to write about you.”

You bashfully look away, trying to hide the smile appearing through your frown as you gaze out into the field next to you. Tenderly, Kazuha tilts your face back toward his as his ruby red eyes stare intensely into yours. You look back and forth between them before laughing quietly through your tears.

He hums proudly, shaking your shoulder a bit before leaning in to place a quick kiss to your lips, “and don’t try to deny it. You know every word I speak is nothing but the truth. I would never lie to you, honestly.”

Your eyes soften as you look at him, understanding now that your boyfriend is right. You’ve read his writing enough to know that whatever Kazuha found to hold truly beautiful was indeed actually beautiful. Because, in a world full of subjectivity, his word is like the law.

Alhaitham:

Alhaitham is practically flawless in all ways. It’s something you’ve realized long before you began dating him — began being friends, even. Aside from his harsh personality, he’s handsome, intelligent, a good leader, and so much more.

It makes you question why he’s even with you. Most of the time, you only joke about it with him and sometimes he even laughs about it. But there are the times where it isn’t just a passing comment or silly thought in the back of your mind, but rather, a growing virus that spreads a dangerous, lingering toxin throughout your body.

“Is something the matter?” Alhaitham nudges your shoulder quietly from beside you. He’s nice enough not to embarrass you in front of the group, shockingly. Despite being his partner, he didn’t often spare you of his “cruelties.”

Your eyes snap to his and out of the faraway place of insecure thoughts you were trapped in for a moment. Silently, you nod and return to listening to the group of people presenting a project to Alhaitham for approval at the Akademiya. His eyes continue to linger on you for a second, not buying any lies you might make up to make it seem like you’re okay. As apathetic as he may be, Alhaitham has indeed found a place in his heart to care about you.

But you can’t help but feel insecure as you watch them. All of them are so attractive and everyone in the room looks so drawn to them, eager to get a word in after. It makes you wonder what Alhaitham even sees in you. A man like himself, he could have anyone in the world.

“I could.”

“What?” your head snaps to him in terror, whispering a little too harshly, “did I say that out loud?”

“No. I can read minds, so I know what you’re thinking,” your boyfriend says blankly. You stare at him in sheer panic before the tiniest of smiles breaks out on his face, “I was joking.”

You frown and shove him ever so slightly away from you, “Yeah, well you sure have a funny way of showing it.”

Alhaitham takes one step closer to you than he had before, assuming the position he was in before you pushed him away. Only this time, he gently loops his arm with yours, something he only does when he feels a little more like showing affection. He isn’t the most physically affectionate, but you know what he means by it.

“I’m serious. I know that look on your face,” he whispers from next to you before turning to actually face you, “I could have anyone in the world, so why do you think I chose you?”

“Out of pity? I mean, look around us. I’m not exactly the best looking here,” you mumble, attempting to fight off the growing lump in your throat. So maybe Alhaitham isn’t so perfect, because you sure as hell hate the way he shows comfort.

He sighs irritated, “No, you idiot. Pity is a form of emotion I’ve never felt for anyone, not even you. You’re above the rest of them, so don’t doubt it for a second. If you weren’t, I wouldn’t be standing here with you right now.”

“You’re so mean, you know? You don’t have to put other people down just to make me feel better,” you say, fighting a smile. He really should’ve taken a class on human emotion back in his scholar days.

Alhaitham turns away from you now, facing the presenters and ignoring your defense against his words, “I only speak truthfully. You are the only person in all of Teyvat that I want. You can choose to believe it or not, but that’s factual information.”

He’s right. Alhaitham hates lying because he sees no point in it. It’s something he’s told you a thousand times, maybe even more.

“Will you say it then?”

You still don’t believe him anyway.

He quirks a brow, “Say what?”

You hold onto his arm a little tighter, afraid he might slip away from you. That bit of doubt still lingering in your mind, “That you think I’m…you know…?”

Alhaitham sighs but gives in regardless. Staring you dead in the eyes with no room for any semblance of a lie, he whispers quietly, “Yes, I think you’re the prettiest person in all of Teyvat.”

#genshin #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact fanfiction #kazuha #kazuha x reader #kazuha x y/n #kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x y/n #kaedehara kazuha x you #kaedehara kazuha x reader #alhaitham #alhaitham x you #alhaitham x reader #alhaitham x y/n

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loveemagicpeace · 9 months

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💧A little deeper stuff💧

✨First of all, having one of these aspects does not mean that you have bad birth chart or that your life is messy, unlucky or anything. It may just mean that one area is more challenging than another. And also if u have a lot of good aspects means these aspects are not so influential. ✨

⚡️One of the hardest aspect is mercury opp saturn-negative thoughts can take over your mind and you can start thinking that people think the worst about you. Especially if mercury is in your first house (because mercury in the first house represents awareness of yourself and things around you - and you can start imagining too much about yourself).Problems with your body or your appearance may arise.

🥥Chiron in 1st house-it can mean that there is a lot of trauma related to you and your appearance. The key here is to accept yourself as you are.

💕Venus opp saturn-it can mean that you don't love yourself enough or that you don't value yourself enough. Self-love can be difficult, especially if Venus is in the 1st house. It can also mean that you want to be more beautiful or you want to change your appearance. There may also be problems with whether you deserve money, material things, luxury, enjoyment. Maybe you have doubts about whether you really deserve it and it's hard for you to accept it.

❤️‍🔥Jupiter in 2nd house-these people will always have money no matter what. Their earnings will be easy and free. Many times it means that you are serving abroad.

🧚🏽Uranus & Neptune in 6th house can be the reason that you have strange diseases for which you do not understand exactly why you have them (sometimes the cause is unknown). Many times changes happen all at once and suddenly. Neptune can give an illusion about your body and appearance. Sometimes you may feel like you are not very aware of why things are happening to you.

🦋Sun in 12th house-many times I notice that these people have mental problems that are related to their personality. Because the sun represents you as a person and your personal identity, where you shine and how, but above all you. And when the sun is in your 12th house, you cannot express your personality enough and find it difficult to find yourself and who you really are. It's harder for you to show your energy and light. You can't shine enough or in the way you want.

🪐Saturn in 7th house-I notice that many of these people's parents live separately or get divorced already in their early years. And I think it's harder for these people to find love because it's hard for them to believe that it really exists. But they learn a lot about it in life.

Also, people with saturn in the 7th house learn the hard way what love is. Many times they have one really difficult relationship behind them, which changes their life, but because of it they find a part of themselves that they didn't know before. Because saturn represents what we learn but the hard way and And what marks our life the most. For ex.: someone with saturn in 3rd house- maybe it could be friendship (this house represents a best friend), elementary school/high school, maybe high school love. Saturn in the 8th house - in your early life you may have experienced a lot of secrets, betrayals, infidelity, a lot of dark things that you don't want to talk about with anyone, these people should talk to someone about all the things that are bothering them. It can also be the death of someone who has a great influence on your life.

🪴Pluto in 4th house-They usually have very influential mother and their mother can be very controlling. It's not always like that. You can also have very powerful bond with your mother or very distant and very unhealthy relationship.

🪻1st house placements can also make you feel very lonely sometimes. Because first house indicate you independent from others. I think people always think these people are very selfish ,independent & that they don't need anybody. It's not like that, they just have their own energy. And they focus on the things that are here at this moment and that they can control. But in reality, sometimes they can feel very lonely.

🫧A lot of lonely souls have pisces ,capricorn ,sagittarius placements. All of them are independent signs and do not need anyone in their lives (in the sense that they know how to manage on their own or go through life alone, because they have always been used to it). The reality is that they can often feel alone in the process.

🌙Moon in fire signs many times they have a lot of sadness, anxiety inside because they are emotionally independent all their lives and do not want to burden others with things and many times they are taught to go through life alone and with independence. Many times they carry anger with themselves. Their emotions show mostly through anger. They do not allow themselves to be weak.

🪁Saturn in 1st house people have a very calm voice and many times they calm you down a lot. Very caring people. I don't know what it is about them, but their whole presence is very calming and when you are with them you feel as if they know how to protect you. Many times they give off a fatherly energy and are very non-judgmental people.

💿Pluto in 11th house- you will always transform yourself through friends, dreams, vision, hopes, wishes. Friendships often end because you don't feel that people are dedicated and sincere enough. Many times you experience betrayal, jealousy from people. Also one thing that can change between you and your friends is also that you two no longer share the same interest or hopes ,wishes. Also opinions and look on the life. People with this placements don't believe in politics or things the media say. They know very well what the truth is. They hate people who always conform to others, not sincere kindness or naivety.

🦋Chiron in Scorpio- There can be all of things that are related to secrets ,jealousy ,controlling. Maybe even violence in their early year. But most of all these people don't like that someone else control them. They have to learn to trust people, but trust is hard to find because they are often disappointed. You can heal a lot of people who have complex problems. Or problems related to relationships ,toxic relationships. You can give them good advice or a literally help them. You can heal a lot of broken souls.

🌇Chiron in Sagittarius- It's hard for you to find faith into something. Maybe believing into things is hard for you. These people can also have trauma with church or church can make them feel unsafe. You can heal all the people with your optimism ,good energy, positive thoughts. U can heal people with giving them great advice about life & teach them how to live. But you can also heal yourself in a way that you believe in something that's it's your own.

🌌Pluto in 1st house- I talked about this before. Pluto represents depth, how deep you go to discover the truth, dark things, secrets, jealousy, intimacy, sharing your soul with another person, what you want to remain hidden. With pluto here means that you seen all -all the hurt all the damage ,the dark stuff in your life. Because it's in your first house and it's related to you. You can attract a lot of people who don't actually have good intentions with you. You can also attract a lot of jealousy people then don't want to see you doing good. You have hard time accepting people in your life because you feel that everybody is going to hurt you in some way.

🌠The only sign who truly understands karma is Capricorn, especially Capricorn rising because it's in the first house. And 1st house means everything you are aware of and everything you see. Also Saturn is your chart ruler. So it's especially strong and I deeply believe the people who have Saturn as a chart ruler that they always receive good karma. And Saturn will always protect them from the evil people and from the situation that are not good for them. Remember all the things that happened to you in your life. And then remember how saturn save you from them. For ex.: some relationship that was actually turns out to be toxic ,from friendship that turns out they never been honest with you , from accident or things that literally happened to you.

✨Ig- bekylibra✨

🎸For personal readings u can sign up here: https://snipfeed.co/bekylibra 🎸

-Rebekah🦋💿💫

#astrology #energy #zodiac signs #my notes #planets #astrological houses

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amourdivine · 7 months

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𝐖𝐇𝐎'𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐒𝐄𝐋𝐅? ઉ PICK A CARD

Hello lovelies, I hope you're having a wonderful week! This is perhaps the first heavily shadow work focused PAC I bring to you. I'm quite nervous to post this, since I know delivering these messages can be difficult and I don't like taking a harsh, judgmental approach. I hope this reading resonates. As always, feedback is highly appreciated! If you liked this reading, please consider tipping me at @ [email protected]! xo ♡

paid readings are closed as of february 2024

none of the images are mine unless stated otherwise!

pick a card masterlist & information

how to choose your pile. take a few deep breaths for and look at each and of the piles separately. see which one brings you to a feeling, a place or a memory. take your time and feel free to come back to it later!

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

୨୧ PILE ONE

who is your shadow self? eight of swords • knight of cups • nine of wands • queen of wands

Your shadow self is the fearful side of you attached to anxiety. The side of you that does not believe you can save yourself from bad situations and feels endlessly hopeless, helpless and trapped. It causes a self-fulfilling prophecy, one where you think you'll inevitably fail, so you self-sabotage (either consciously or not) and end up "proving" yourself right.

However, as helpless as your shadow feels, it never asks for help. It's trapped in a spiral of shame and self-doubt, even self-hatred. All of this happens mentally for most of you, to the point where your body is neglected or stuck in flight / freeze mode. I feel stuck in the gutter, unable to move in the sticky mud. Despite your best efforts to succeed, you may suffer from impostor's syndrome as well, an inability to see your worth, your beauty and your own light. It's almost as if you're scared of your own power, pile one. Very painful, very self-inflicted and something which you may have learn from childhood, maybe you got bullied a lot or were heavily criticized by the people around you. If that happened, I'm so sorry pile one. You deserved so much better. You still do.

how can you work with your shadow self? nine of cups • the sun • queen of swords • queen of wands

You know, when I was entering college, I had a counselor whose words were life changing to me. One day, he picked up a cup full of coffee and asked me: how do you get rid of the coffee, without throwing it out entirely? And I was puzzled. It wasn't possible. Him, in his neverending patience, took me to the water station and started pouring water onto it, until the coffee was cleared away and all that remained was clean, crystal liquid.

Maybe the bad things that happened still haunt you, but they can be drawn out by the good ones. Seek for the light, pile one. Seek the nurturing experiences, the days when you allow yourself to just be, seek the help, the love and stay open to the love. Stay open to the idea that yes, you are worthy, even if you do not feel like it, even if so many people have made you feel otherwise.

These wounds may not fade entirely with time, but you are more than them, always. Always. I know it's never easy to challenge what we've been taught about ourselves, but in order to unlearn all of that, you will have to learn the new things, the true things about you. If they said you were lazy - was that really true? Or were you just tired? You're not "naive", you're pure. You're not "too sensitive", you're in tune with your emotions.

The stories we tell ourselves hold power. What stories are you telling about yourself? Maybe it's time to switch to a new point of view, one where you can rewrite yourself as the person you were never allowed to be.

୨୧ PILE TWO

who is your shadow self? judgement • five of swords • ten of cups • king of wands

Your shadow self is the side of you that thrives in chaos - listen, that's not entirely a bad thing, after all, our shadow reflects something which we need to acknowledge, nurture and work with. However, when you perceive danger or feel threatened, you may turn to harsh words or hurtful actions to avenge yourself.

It can manifest in the form of extreme competitive behavior, the inability to rest, overworking, even maybe envy, jealousy and arrogance sometimes. Now, I'm not here to judge or shame you, you're safe here. I think you have and still feel the need to prove yourself to others, to prove them all wrong. Maybe other people told you that you couldn't do it - and you took it all personally, so personally that it crumbles your self-esteem when someone diminishes your efforts or accomplishments.

Your shadow side craves attention, praise and approval. You want to succeed, to be someone you're proud of, to just never feel insecure, diminished or ignored again. You can also turn possessive with loved ones, wondering if they really love you or if they are lying. There's a lot of skepticism here, too.

how can you work with your shadow self? judgement • ace of pentacles • three of pentacles • eight of swords

Acknowledge your feelings and these insecurities. "Fake it 'till you make it" doesn't always work. Being vulnerable is, ironically, also being strong. Understanding your limitations and allowing for other people to collaborate with you (and vice-versa) will take you even further in life.

Your sense of justice is commendable. Make sure you're using it for justice indeed, and not just vengeance. Your ambition can walk hand in hand with your desire to do good, to make space for everyone else to shine, to open up to others, let them see all of you. No one can love perfection - even if they could, what's there to love about something or someone so perfect that they barely feel human?

It's okay to be scared, to feel insecure, to not shove difficult emotions under the rug. We cannot be at our 100% all the time. And we cannot please everyone, all the time. What you can do is praise yourself, let others praise you when they do and accept it gracefully, making sure you're spreading your warmth and wisdom to others as well. See, I think you have overcome a lot and a lot of people could use your help, either in the form of advice, resources or a shoulder to lean on.

You have leadership potential, pile two. Don't limit yourself by being alone. We were never meant to make it on our own.

୨୧ PILE THREE

who is your shadow self? ace of wands • page of swords • three of cups • king of pentacles

Your shadow self is someone who may indulge in harmful habits out of a need for instant gratification, maybe reckless spending, speed driving, partying everyday or simply not saving up resources and caring about the future. Your shadow self is someone who hates boredom, who craves excitement and cannot fully deal with long-term commitment in its many forms. It wants novelty, adventure and it comes at the cost of your responsibilities, your routine and your friendships even.

This shadow self hates suffering (fair enough, who doesn't?!) and will to go great lengths to avoid it... but ironically, it causes you more pain in the long run by avoiding the unavoidable. By never crying, never addressing your issues or your difficult moments, you end up running right back into yourself and these same issues return.

This side of you doesn't want to grow up - you don't want to fall into the trap of routine and a boring, 9-5 job. But excessive habits are difficult to maintain, no matter how good it feels in the short term. There's a difficult, troubled perception of adulthood and life itself. A need for constant adventure and chaos, a feeling of entrapment whenever you are with anyone who loves you, because you fear being controlled, tamed and used.

how can you work with your shadow self? the tower • nine of wands • nine of cups • three of pentacles

To put it simply, let yourself hurt. Let the foundations of your heart crumble, stop to feel just for a second. You don't have to be on the run all the time. What are you running from, pile three? Disaster, pain and hurt are often inevitable, but they do not have to be the be-all, end-all of our lives. The Tower is a reminder that all that crumbles was meant to crumble eventually, and there is beauty in letting things end naturally, allowing the flow of life to do its thing.

That means aging, growing, learning from the seasons. I think you have a very, very deep heart and mind you're scared to tap into. You're scared to be trapped in the endless hustle, to never feel alive or good once you "settle". But who says the big joys are the only ones that matter? As someone said once, big joys and small joys are often the same. Sometimes, waking up in itself can be an adventure. Don't overlook or underestimate the ways life tries to find you, to cling to you - remember to embark on the hard journeys, knowing you'll have gotten something valuable in the end.

You're brave and rebellious. You can be a catalyst for change in so many ways. Who said adulthood has to be boring? Who said you have to work a 9-5? Do you have to get married? Maybe being a stay-at-home parent isn't for you. That's okay.

Challenging the status quo may not be easy, but you have a natural inclination for it. Your shadow self can dive deeper. It's one of your greatest tools. Your need for joy and fun is not shameful - you can use it for healing, instead of self-destruction.

୨୧ PILE FOUR

who is your shadow self? judgment rx • justice • the high priestess rx • knight of swords

Your shadow self is the side of you that refuses to acknowledge your needs, your wants and desires. It makes you live inside of a bubble, scared of the truth, even if it will set you free. I had the hardest time shuffling for this pile, I kept trying and trying but nothing made sense. I think this is how your shadow side manifests as well, in the lack of clarity, the fogginess that permeates the choices you've regretted.

It's both reckless and frozen, completely lost in a maze, confused, looking for a path, for directions, for anything. It's almost as if you lost your compass, nothing eventually guides you and you remain looking for the directions only you have.

It's too scared to admit what it wants, who you are. Both out of fear of what other people will say, but also out of fear that it'll all go wrong. It's the side of you that remains disconnected from yourself, hidden because it keeps highlighting the aspects you keep trying to ignore, to not know. It can manifest in a lot of ways, either through people-pleasing or being completely reckless. Through lying, denial or even isolation from the world, from life itself.

Something funny is that a song by Bad Suns that just started playing really relates to this pile. "Cinderella slips into a dream like a curse / you could mistake it for heaven at first." This shadow self may live in projection, daydreaming or simply keep you out of touch with everything.

how can you work with your shadow self? six of pentacles • page of wands • two of wands • king of cups

Engagement and socializing are big ways you can work with your shadow self. Being actively curious about the world, about people. Approaching relationships, truths and life itself with genuine interest, no judgement or shaming thoughts involved.

Telling yourself you're an eternal student of this world, because we are and remembering you don't have to know everything. Start scared. Most things, you'll have to do it scared. Unprepared. In the thick of it all, you'll find the answers you need, but only if you are willing to dive deep for them. No taking shortcuts, making assumptions or allowing self-doubt to paralyze your living, because you need to witness life as it is.

Therapy is one big thing, music as well. Anything that connects you to your deepest self, relationships that genuinely make room for who you are, good friends that feel safe and non-judgemental. Your heart has been calling you for so long, pile four. It's about time you listen to it. It knows everything you need to know.

disclaimer. tarot not a substitute for medical and professional advice, nor is it meant to be taken as such. i do not take responsibility for any choice(s) made by you or others regarding my readings. please remember you are responsible for life and in power of it, no one else! ♡

amourdivine. 2021 - 2024 © do not copy, redistribute or edit my content.

#pick a card #tarotblr #tarot reading #pick a card reading #tarot #pac reading #astrology #witchblr #tarot witch #pagan #mine.

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yan-lorkai · 2 months

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Since I absolutely adored your fic on escaping Idia, could you by chance do something with a reader that broke up with him only to find out she was pregnant later? Honestly, I just want the drama of the reader raising this child alone and Idia finding out down that his ex had a kid.

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ A/N: I took this request and ran with it, I hope you like the drama! ⁽⁠⁽⁠ଘ⁠(⁠ ⁠ˊ⁠ᵕ⁠ˋ⁠ ⁠)⁠ଓ⁠⁾⁠⁾

.⁠｡⁠*⁠♡ Warnings: Yandere content, mention of stalking and controlling tendencies, threats, poison mention, afab!reader but no pronouns used.

"You robbed me from being her father." Idia didn't sound angry. But there was a bitter taste that lingered on his tongue when he looked at you, the love of his life from when he was just a teenager and your child, sleepy on his arms, same blue hair shining under the dim lights. "I may not like it, but I understand why you did it. I'm so sorry that you didn't feel like you could tell me though."

In any other world, you could feel yourself melting at the scene that was so domestic, so sweet. But right now, when you are coming home, tired and hungry and seeing Idia sitting on your favorite armchair while he held your daughter so dearly and carefully in his arms? A shaky gasp left you, your heart starting to beat loudly in your chest as you watched each and every moviment he made, conscious of every chuckle, of his chest raised, of his eyes that lost their soft gaze and we're hardened now.

You still remember how he used to treat you when both of you were younger, he was like a spider weaving his web full of possessiveness, his words twisted to make you feel like he was the only one who could understand, love and treat you like you deserved.

You were dumb and innocent but dumb and innocent people don't survive for long out there. And when you realized that something was wrong, you had to do what you had to do in order to survive and escape him.

For seven long years you survived. But you felt as if a threat of death was looming over you for as long as you were stared by your ex-boyfriend - he didn't reacted well when you broke up with him. Like always, Idia threw a tantrum, begged and cried and screamed for you to stay, holding onto your legs pathetically. Though now he was older and got a more mature beauty to him, his eyes, so yellow, they were like diamonds watching you.

Your eyes followed the way his fingers moved and toyed with your daughter's hair, a tiny smile on her little lips as she got even comfier in his arms.

This was what you used to imagine when you lay in bed awake, thinking about the what ifs. What if you stayed? What if Idia was just a normal, good and plain guy that didn't scared you? Would he love his child? He did thought he was cursed, fated forever to always watch over the underworld gates, he told you himself. There were so many uncertainties, so much toxicity that you just ran away from your problems and him.

And now your past returned to bite you back.

"You should have told me. We could have done this together." Even he sounds unsure at that, a bit contemplative and thoughtful as he ponders what could have been of his life if he knew earlier about your pregnancy.

Toothy grin growing on his lips as he noticed your disgusted stare, so happy he could still make you feel something - anything was better than your hate, after all. The tick tock was the only sound echoing for a long moment before the growing anger bubbles up on your chest, not believing a single syllable that left his mouth.

"You got to be kidding!" You count on your fingers the number of creepy things he did, feeling your whole body shaking. Either from anger or fear, you can't tell. But it surely amuses Idia, who's smiling wider now. "Stalking me, watching me through the cameras, threatening my friends, you even tapped my phone and used to read my messages like they were a magazine, Idia! A kid wouldn't grown up to be healthy and normal around a freak like you."

You pointed in his direction, your finger jabbing at his face.

The illusion of a family had to end before it even begin. It was his fault that everything turned out to be this way and even with seven whole years passing by, Idia still wasn't able to see this. He was helpless, beyond help.

"That's a funny way to see things, Yuu-shi." He giggled softly, making you wince, the sound so unfamiliar now, while he rearranged the covers to wrap around your child tightly, not wanting her to wake up. Not right now, at least. "From the way I see, you hid my child existence from me. And honestly, I bet it was so hard and tiring, wasn't it? You worked two jobs to raise her, after all."

Your child let out a sleepy giggle, mumbling something on her sleep about her mom and dad finally being reunited. Idia looked back at you, smugness irradiating from him in waves.

"The nerve you got, I can't!" In an instant you were before him. Your whole body fighting to suppress fear and disgust, fighting against whatever was trying paralyze you. You had to take your daughter. You had to take her from him. You had to protect her.

He hummed a little, taking your hand on his. His grip was gentle, reverent even but strong enough to let you know he could overpower you whenever he wanted. He was looking at you through his eyelashes.

And you didn't like how he was looking at you. Like you were a collectible that he wanted to bury on his closet, to hide to never be seen again. Like he knew something you don't.

Exactly how he used to look at you in the past.

"You don't deserve to hold her, you don't even deserve to be near her." You told him petulantly. She was nothing like him. She was kinder and radiant, a good girl. She wasn't a calculating monster like her father.

You took her in your arms and he let you do it, crossing one leg over the other as he threw his head back and laughed.

"You tell me that she wouldn't like me but did you know that she was happy to know who I was? Did you know that she confided in me that you were working so hard that she missed you greatly but didn't want to annoy you?" You rolled your eyes at his attempt at lying, unable to believe anything he said.

There were no signs nor change on your daughter's behavior that indicates that any of this was true. At least, that you think so. You knew her better than he did.

You glanced at him, his eyes still smug but there was a pleading glimmer inside them that almost begged you to believe him this time. Raising a child was difficult, even more when you were raising one alone and had to be there for them 24/07, available emotionally and physically for whatever your daughter needed.

Looking at her soft, round face, you felt a pang of guilty. Idia was telling the truth or he was just messing with your head again?

He's lying, you screamed in your head. Of course he is lying. Lying is far easier than admitting that he was downright toxic.

The memories of his lies and half-truths were still fresh in your mind even after all those years, making it difficult to discern the reality now. You had trouble trusting people even to these days because of him. But his words struck a chord inside of you.

What if it was true? Your little one was a little more skittish and silent around you the past few days. You didn't want to believe this possibility. You couldn't. You worked hard to always be there in every moment, to not let her realize how it was to not have a parent around.

Had you failed?

"Why should I believe you now?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper. "You did nothing but hurt me when we were together. I don't trust and I don't like how you are all cozy on my armchair, in fact, you are not welcomed here at all.”

He sighed, running a hand through his hair in frustration. He obviously didn't want to talk about the past, it's not like he didn't know but in his twisted mind everything he had done to you was justified. Idia always do something with a purpose on mind.

"I know I've messed up before, more times than I can count. But this... this is different."

He gestured to your child, looking at her with a soft, fond gaze. You though didn't believed a second that he had a sudden change of heart just because of your child.

"It's true I didn't wanted a child because of my cursed blood and the fate that would await them. But when I hold her like this, nothing else seems to matter."

You scoffed at this, despising how sincere his voice was. "If you're telling the truth, why didn't she told me herself?"

"She was afraid, I guess. Afraid that you wouldn't understand or she didn't want to add to your stress. She thought she was doing the right thing." He exhaled slowly, the emotional turmoil inside him boiling over. Yet he forced himself to remain calm, to watch each and every step you make, every breathe you take.

Like a spider weaving its web.

His words hung in the air and you looked away, trying to sort through the conflicting emotions that surged within you. Trust had been broken before, boudaries ignored, there was no mending this. There was no salvaging the past, no matter how much he looked like a kicked puppy.

You held your daughter tighter. "Well, that was enlightening but I think you should go. Now."

Idia's eyes narrowed, a dangerous glint flickering within them as he stood up and lazily stretched. "You're still trying to push me away?" He asked, voice low and cold. "I won't stop you, of course, I get that you're still afraid and all but are you sure you want me to leave? I walked right into your house. Didn't you even wondered how I entered? Or where the nanny you hired went? Or why our daughter didn't woke up yet?"

Desperation crept into your voice, a sudden realisition that perhaps he would do something foolish such as harming his own flesh and blood. "Idia, what... What do you mean by all that?"

He tilted his head slightly. hiding the curve of a smile with his hand, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. You could only wonder what kind of things he was thinking and you didn't like it not knowing what to expect. You stared at him, heart beating loudly as held your daughter closer to your chest.

He laughed, studying you with an intensity that made your skin crawl. "You're scared," It wasn't a question but an observation. His smile got bigger. "Good, you should be. You think you have a choice in this? Your daughter… she's already been exposed to a little something I concocted. A slow-acting poison."

Tears welled up in your eyes as you looked down at your daughter, now noticing that she was starting to tremble. "How could you do this?" You whispered, voice choked with emotion.

"Because I love you," Idia said, voice low and intense. Taking a step closer, he was staring you face to face now, warm breath over you. "And I won't let you go. Not now, not ever. We're meant to be together and I'll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens."

Your heart pounded in your chest, panic and anger swirling within you. "Give her the antidote, Idia. Please; I'II do anything."

"Not yet," He shook his head slowly, a twisted smile on his lips. His tone was almost gentle and soothing. "You'll come with me first. Once we're safe and together, then she'll get the antidote. But if you try anything... if you try to leave or call for help, well..."

He let the threat hang in the air, the implications clear. Like a wreacking ball he destroyed everything you've worked for all these years. You hated it. And you hated how powerless you were right here, right now.

You felt a wave of despair wash over you, the weight of the situation crushing you. Your daughter's life hanging in the balance and there was no choice but to comply.

"Alright," Vou whispered, voice breaking. You looked at him with hatred and something more you couldn't name, too worried with your daughter's health. "I'll come with you. Just... please don't hurt her."

Idia's smile widened, a flicker of triumph in his eyes. "That's more like it," he said, reaching out to gently touch your daughter's cheek. "We'll be a perfect family, just like I always wanted."

With your heart heavy and your daughter's safety foremost in your mind, you followed Idia, knowing that you were stepping into a nightmare again.

But you could always escape... Right?

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rogueabs · 12 days

Text

Guilty as Sin

My bedsheets are ablazeI've screamed her nameBuilding up like wavesCrashing over my graveWithout ever touching her skinHow can I be guilty as sin? “- Guilty as Sin, Taylor Swift

You had built an image of yourself to your family, one your friends wanted you to break free from. They didn’t understand what it was to see the people that gave you life, seeing your identity and who you love as a sin. Meeting Abby for a one night stand painted brightly what you couldn't see before, her touch, how your bodies fit, that’s what heaven was.

Warnings: 18+ minors dni, smut!

Word count: 2450

photo from @thelosstvalkyrie

“Ellie stop”, you recall telling your best friend you didn’t need a set-up.

“Look (Y/N), there's nothing wrong with you liking women, why are you so afraid?” you couldn't take it anymore and the last time you recall is slapping Ellie and running away from her apartment.

H-how could she do this to you, she knows exactly why you’re afraid. All of your one night stands with women she knows so well about, you had to “please your sins” as your mother once described when she found you kissing Claire in middle school.

“There’s nothing wrong with what you did darling, but it is a sin, do you want to not meet grandma in heaven? One day you’ll meet a nice young man to grow old with.”

And that’s what you did, as a way to let them believe they raised the perfect heterosexual daughter.

You decided to do what you knew better, a tinder hook-up.

You swiped and swiped left until you saw her… Abby. She had pictures of herself flexing at the gym, a picture of her on a bar and all you could focus your gaze on was how beautiful her strong hands looked wrapped around the beer bottle. Without thinking twice you swiped right and you saw the stunning “it’s a match pop-up”.

In her bio she stated that she was in med school and you decided to be corny and text her “If I knew a doctor could look this good I would be sick more often to pay you a visit.”

“Now would you?” the blonde texted back.

For the next 2 hours you both texted back and forth, sharing each other's phone number. You had never been so hooked on a woman through a phone, you needed her.

“Want to go out for a drink tonight?”

Unfortunately you didn’t the reply you desired, “I have a final exam tomorrow, but we could meet afterwards, my treat;)”

You replied agreeing to the delayed date and a few minutes later you received a text with a photo attached.

“I’m taking a break right now, want to call?” you were practically drooling looking at the photo Abby sent you, her in a black tank top with boxers on, her brawny hand holding her shirt up showing her sculpted abs, the angle showed how well built and muscular and big thighs were.

You weren’t a stranger at the game of sexting until someone drove to someone's house to please the ache and pool forming in between your legs, but the arousal of not being able to get what you craved made it so much more exciting. You were wearing a baggy band shirt you stole from a hook up a few years ago, underneath it nothing besides a lacy thong. Knowing your angles made it so much more fun, preparing to send her a small video showcasing the clothes on your body you wanted her to tear apart.

“All yours if you desire.”

It took seconds until the sent, turned into a seen. She texted to give her five minutes and you ran all giddy to your bed in anticipation. Your phone rang and you picked up so quickly it made you feel like a teenager waiting for your crush to reply.

“Hi Baby”, she began the call, “You looked so good in that video, what do you get from being such a tease…”

Smirking at her response you simply said “I know how to please to get what i want.”

“Oh you do, don’t you?, I might have to rip that smirk off your face, my pretty girl.”

“So, what's the purpose of this call baby?” you questioned knowing the answer.

“Don’t play dumb baby, you know damn hell I want to take that lacy thong off with my teeth and tease you until you deserve it, what I would give to hear you beg for my fingers.”

All you gave her was a laugh and that made her fume, you could hear it in her tone “You’ll do what I tell you, and all I want to hear from you from now on is Yes darling.”

You caved in, you couldn't hold in any longer, the way her voice sounded made you wetter, the few clothes you had to cover you from nudity were so tight and annoying on your body “Yes darling.”

“Good girl… Tell me, how do you like it? Slow, rough… Oh baby if I were there I wouldn't be able to keep my hands off of you.Touch yourself baby, picture my fingers crawling down your neck.”

“A-abby”, you softly whimper her name while your fingers make their way down to relieve the ache you felt tying on your core.

“My name sounds so beautiful coming out of your mouth baby…” you heard her swallow a moan down.

The call lasted for one hour, it was filled with lewd noises, curses, pet names and how you were wrapped around her fingers, her velvety voice, her delicious whimpers of your name, you wanted to please her in any way you could.

You had to take a shower after that call, trying to clean yourself away from the sin of desiring that gorgeous woman to bend you, to hold you and crave you on your knees.

Before going to sleep you texted her sweet dreams texts, you couldn't get her out of your mind. She updated you on her day and at what time she had her exam, what both of you had for lunch. You picked a maroon dress to wear for tonight, it framed your body and accentuated your ass, if you could you would eat you out too.

Sending her a photo of the outfit to know her opinion she replied with what you least expected:

“Baby we’re staying in, I need you.”

You couldn’t help but tease her every minute until she arrived at your doorstep. Preparing your favourite red wine, you left the chinese take out menu from downstairs in case she wanted to eat due to being stressed all day with her exam. Why did you care about a woman you had phone sex with last night, shaking the thought off when you heard your doorbell ring.

Opening the door you greeted her with a kiss on the cheek “Hi baby.” Eyeing her up and down you had to admire how strong and divinely her arms were built, she was wearing loose cargo pants and a white button down rolled at the sleeves.

Smirking, she greeted you back, placing a hand behind your back waiting for your guidance inside.

You saw her mentally undressing you, the way she licked her lips looking you up and down drove you insane, you quickly offered her the glass of wine you served.

“Thank you darling, for treating me so well.” The way she talked was smoother than the wine you were swallowing, it was driving you insane.

Putting the glass down you got closer to Abby, fingers drawing up and down her arms, “So… Where are we going baby?”

Confidently she smirked, placing a hand on your face, caressing it with her calloused fingers, she placed on your lips “I thought I said we weren’t going anywhere”, she turned to you, spreading her legs open with her free hand going up and down her thigh “I want to thank you, for looking so absolutely stunning, the wine…”, Abby got up placing the hand that was on your face to your neck, and now brushing your hair behind your ear, she got closer, you could feel her warm breath sending shivers down your body “I want to hear you scream my name tonight.” she whispered in your ear, this made you wetter than you could have possibly have ever been before, no woman has ever driven you this crazy, the arousal was built to an extent you couldn’t bear anymore it was embarrasing.

“Is that what you want?” She asks you, her hand still steady on your neck.

You frantically nod yes, “Can I kiss you darling?” with that question you latched your lips to hers hungrily. There was hair tugging, your tongues battling for dominance, lip biting and you couldn't even dare to come up for air, drunk on this intimacy and excitement.

Abby threw you on your couch, trapping you underneath her strong frame, nibbling on your ears, biting and sucking down your neck, you were so sure those bruises looked ethereal and marked on you for days, and you weren’t mad. You tugged on her braid, making her produce an hungry growl for you touch, both eager for more Abby jumped up and took her buttoned shirt off fast, leaving her in sports bra that cupped her perky breasts perfectly, focused on the show she was giving you felt the wet spot on your underwear growing. “C’mon pretty girl, stand up.” Abby ordered you, “Turn around for me, I need this fucking dress gone.”

You allowed her to unzip it, letting it run off your body, leaving you only in your panties, a bra didn’t really match the dress, nor did it look good with it, giving Abby a reason to snicker at you “All of this for me, damn… you really are a whore.” She grabbed your tits from behind, admiring them, feeling them, afraid to let them go and to lose such a sight for bare eyes, when she let go, she turned you around, spread her legs and demanded you to sit on her lap.

Sitting down she looked at you up and down, murmuring a soft fuck, “Darling if you don’t want this tell me okay?” you place your hand behind her head, playing with the loose strands of her hair “I want you, I crave you baby.” you replied tugging at her hair, grinding on her crotch.

Abby kissed you, passionately, it was a needy kiss, a hunger only you could ease. Her hands travelled to your back, to your thighs, her lips explored and kissed your nipples, earning some moans of your pleasure made her more aroused.

“P-please” you choked out “Baby please fuck me.” you said looking her in the eyes.

Abby complied and her hands travelled down your clothed pussy, fingers drawing circles on your clit, slow and hard. “I don’t want you to hold back, pretty girl,” She said, picking up the pace, “I want everyone in this building to know whose pussy this is.”

You were a screaming mess, breaking underneath her hands, you were grinding into her digits, she slid them in, two, curling them in fast in all the right places. Suddenly she stopped and told you to get them off, and you quickly did so, tossing them near the dress. “Come here pretty girl”, Abby said, nudging the fingers that were inside you seconds ago, she licked clean, “You’re going get on your knees, and unzip my pants okay?” You nodded and did as told, unzipping them you noticed she had a strap on, you could smell the arousal through the arness, your mouth watering at the sight of her and of what you were about to do.

Kicking her pants off, Abby grabbed your hair into a ponytail, cocked your head back “Open up.” she said in a raspy voice. Spitting your mouth, you swallowed and opened your mouth for her to see. “You’re going to suck my cock okay baby? Get it all wet and ready for your tight pussy.” She pushed your head in her crotch and you did as you were told, moaning into her cock you could see her eyes closing in pleasure, the pretty girl you were sucking off was too busy swearing under her breath and it turned you on even more.

Abby pulled you up, picking your body up and placing it on the couch, she opened your legs and played with her plastic cock in your entrance, sliding it up and down, up and down in your slick “Do you want it?” she asked.

“Yes, Yes I do” you replied looking in her eyes.

“Tell me you want it darling.” she said behind grinding teeth harshly, “Fuck me please,Abby, I fucking need you to ruin me.” you replied in a whine, desperate for your release that has been building up, as much as you enjoy edging this wasn’t fun, you need to let her taste you, hear you, to devour you.

After your excited consent Abby chuckled and slid her cock in, fast, and so hard you felt yourself have no time to clench around her “You’re going to be good and take it okay?” You screamed a yes so loudly your neighbour probably got scared shitless. She pounded into you with the purpose of hearing your delicious moans feeling up the room, she started going slower, softer and then hard, she was playing with you, and you couldn't take it, your hands started going down to your clit, searching to get you off, Abby caught you and trapped your wrist above your head, “You could have just asked nicely you whore,” she got off from top of you. Pulling you up carefully, she sat down, and just like you were before, Abby spread her legs “Ride my cock baby.”

You got on top of her, slowly sinking in her cock, she placed your hands behind your back, trapping your arms with one of her strong hands while the other was busy playing with your clit.

“C’mon baby, you were so eager to cum” Abby said, making you grind faster, making yourself riding her harder, reaching deeper, you could feel your release growing, the not on your stomach was going to burst soon “Fu-Fuck baby, I’m so fucking close.” you threw your head back.

“Cum on my cock baby, I want to feel you clench so tightly around me you’ll feel me for weeks.” She was also panting and moaning like crazy, the hunger in the room was palpable, the room smelled of sex, sweat and passion.

In minutes you were both reaching your highs, filling the apartment with wet and loud moans and praises for each other.

Abby helped you get up, she was caring, which wasn’t really what you were used to, maybe this wasn’t a one night stand. Sitting you down on the couch, trying to catch your breath, Abby was getting her harness off, placing it on your coffee table, she sat down next to you, caressing your hair and tracing her fingers softly on your face.

“Do you by any chance want to stay over?” you boldly asked the beautiful woman in front of you.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

#abby anderson #abby anderson tlou2 #abby tlou #abby the last of us #abby x reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson x reader #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson x you #abby anderson x y/n #lesbian #sapphic #tlou2 #tlou #wlw smut

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symp4nat · 9 months

Text

"Even Aphrodite envies you."

clarisse la rue x fem!reader

authors note: post 10 pm cry write guys i need to pee, this is a vent fic. also, headcanon that you call clarisse "risse" pronouned Reese bc awwwwwww

summary - you talk about ur body negatively

warnings - talk about body image, over excercizing, not eating/skipping meals, descriptions of body, flashbacks, itty bitty mentions of praying to not greek gods

Thud.

I wasn't enough.

Thwap.

"You need to work out, you're getting too big, and you're only 14," my mother said. I gulped and sat down. "Can we just... pray," I asked. "You need to fix it, usually, girls your age are body conscious.... haven't you seen [friend's name]? That was such a transformation," my dad said.

Thump.

"She lost so much weight, Y/N/N, why don't you do the same? Most people will do things when they see their friends are doing it," my mother said.

Thomp. My mother put her hand on my shoulder-

I went to punch the person who put their hand on me. They caught my hand and I sighed as I saw it was my girlfriend. Clarisse grabbed both of my hands and rubbed my knuckles. "How about we take a break, hm?"

I shook my head. I had to do this.

"Please, no more boxing for the day, you've been overworking yourself," she continued. "Risse, I'm fine.. I've got this," I reassured her.

"Just please, you've been boxing for at least two hours, maybe take a break, okay," she squeezed my hands and walked off. I sighed and went to the archery range.

I grabbed a fairly sized bow and then a set of arrows. I began to shoot around, not necessarily being good at it.

Thwip.

"Y/n, why'd you get new clothes, your old ones were cute," my friends exclaimed. I shrugged. "No need for old clothes..."

Thwap.

"Why don't we all go for a run, some of us need it," my friends said. I looked down and said, "We aren't all wearing tennis shoes."

Shhhk!

They never necessarily spoke much about my own weight, but they all weighed less than me and called themselves fat. They all were skinny or at least average.

"Y/n/n? Please, go rest, I bet you're tired," Clarisse sighed as she noticed me at the archery range. "I'm fine," I defended. "Go get some lunch, or I'll get some for you," she said. I shook my head. "I got it. Thanks, babe," I said.

"C'mon, angel, wanna sit on my lap, maybe take a nap," Clarisse asked. I laughed and shook my head, "You rhymed. And, no, it's... alright.."

Clarisse's eyes became sympathetic. "Baby, is it because this," she asked as you placed her hands on what she called my "love handles" and my hip dips. I looked down and shrugged.

"Baby, that isn't a big deal, you're truly beautiful... do- do you not believe me," Clarisse asked. She pulled me onto her lap and I looked down at my hands. "Hey, eyes on me," she said.

My eyes darted back up to hers and she said, "Would you like to know something really cool?" I nodded and she continued, "I think.. no- I know... That even Aphrodite would be jealous of your beauty."

My eyes began to fill with tears as I buried my head into her neck. "I love you, I don't deserve you," I said as tears stained her shirt. "I love you most, and yes you do, okay? You absolutely do, pretty girl," she said gently to me as her hands relaxed on my hips.

She leaned back on the bed and pulled me back so I could lay on top of her. "I doubt you wanna talk about it later... but how about we nap for now? And just... please... never... over exercise or over work yourself, angel," I nodded as she spoke and closed my eyes. There wasn't anything I could have done to have just to have someone as caring and supporting her.

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue fluff #clarisse la rue #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo

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judasgot-it · 2 months

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Soulmate AU

"I can't believe you said that. You know that's going to be on my chest for the rest of my life now, right?"

Scenario: You and your soulmate meet. It's hard convincing yourselves that it's a good thing.

I'm timeskipping a bit, think of this as a sort of slowburn lol.

8,700 k words (jesus crhist)

Every person had spots on their body that marked the things that showed what their soulmate did that day.

Typically, they appeared at the age of five. Usually, they would be words and sentences, or pictures, sometimes depicting ideas. It was representative of what their soulmate was like - sometimes they were in different languages, or had patterns that only their soulmate could discern.

There was always one mark that would appear, and stay on the body for what was usually for the rest of someone's life. Sometimes small, sometimes big.

Some people were born with theirs. Others had theirs appear at the end of their life. They were rather random, it seemed.

Yours was strange. It wasn't a picture, and it wasn't a poem. It wasn't a sentence, and it wasn't anything compared to your family or classmates. When you were twelve, you had gained a large pattern on your back - something that if you reached around, you could feel mostly with your fingers.

If you squinted, you could maybe see it, but it seemed invisible.

Your mother had told you that it was almost like a scar, but it wasn't ugly. There was a pattern, but no one seemed to really know what it meant.

It was hard to really know what it was from looking at it in the mirror. To you, it looked like just a splattering of lighter and darker skin, now slightly raised in some areas. It was only visible in the light, and looked like you had splashed bleach on your skin.

All you knew was that it hadn't gone away in weeks. The doctor had said that it was most likely one of those marks that lived forever, and was possibly a sign that your soulmate was blind. Either that or some sort of fucked up artist.

It had left you angry for months. You didn't know why, but it upset you - maybe because you had expected a poem that would tell you how much you were adored, like your friend had. Or cute portrait, of some beautiful vacation spot.

You still wanted to dream. But instead, you got something had you scratching your back like a madman, trying to understand something that you couldn't. It left you impatient, trying to understand a puzzle that apparently, only a blind man or an asshole could solve.

Maybe both.

When you met your soulmate, you were going to slap the shit out of him.

At sixteen, you had debated on whether or not your soulmate was worth 'waiting for' or 'finding'. There was a big debate going on for decades anyway - was it worth falling in love with your soulmate?

Part of you wanted to try falling in love with someone else. Maybe it was because you had seen soulmates who hated each other - they had words permanently etched onto their bodies that said:

"I hate you" and "I hope that you die"

Seemed like proof enough that it was fake.

Your own soulmate seemed less like a real concept, and more like a cloud in the sky. There were never pictures of his day, or that many words to hear about. It was only feelings - there were cuts that had showed up along your skin, long lines that were in concerning places.

Once you had one show up along your chest, underneath your breast. You weren't sure if it would work, but you had written "Stay alive" and hoped it would show up along his skin. You wrote it in Sharpie and kept it there for days, just in case he needed the reminder.

He never seemed to have any words back. The only words you ever read on your skin were concerning. Once, words had shown up along your arm, written in a messy cursive, almost impossible to read:

"Go ahead and kill yourself. I don't need you anyway."

That started to convince you that your soulmate might have deserved the knife in the chest.

Despite this, you could never bring yourself to go past a second date. None of the guys who asked you out seemed to really 'click' in the way you really thought you would.

One of them was so bad, you had taken the Sharpie out and had added "I love you" close to where you remember adding the line.

If your soulmate really was blind, it was most likely a stupid thing to write - if it even showed up. But it made you feel better in the moment, so what was the harm?

When you were in your 20s, you had graduated university.

You didn't know what your soulmate was doing, but you had started to care less than you did when you were younger.

Before, it tore at you - there were a lot of dreams and ideas you had of what he was like, and what it would be like when you finally met the one person made for you.

Over time, you learned to accept that there was a chance you might not ever meet him. You knew people like that - those whose soulmates died, and those who never had them. Those who had met them late in life, and were still living good lives.

You had become content. In a way, your life had become better, knowing that you didn't need someone else there in order to live your own life.

There were friends you had. And you had an apartment. And now, you had a new job, one that was respectable and you had worked hard for. Life was looking up.

Part of you was convinced that your soulmate was either dead or still living a life that would lead to it. The marks that showed up were the same as when you were sixteen - they were lesser than before, but they were still scary when they did show up.

There were more words now as well. Something changed, as they were more positive.

"Stay behind me, I'll protect you."

That was one that had shown up today. Along your inner thigh, making you glad you wore shorts today.

Maybe he wasn't in a gang but was just a cop with a bad attitude. Unfortunately, your soulmate had never said his name, and you had no clues as to how to find him.

This job was great. But god, the military really couldn't keep a damn thing organized.

You might be the only person who knew where anything was at this point. Which left you carrying several boxes of confidential files to the office of Ouchi Fukuchi directly, because no one else knew where to find the paperwork that was needed.

He was also three months behind on all of it. Which was fine, it was only a matter of national security, after all. It wasn't an important thing, really. Who cared?

You weren't stressed about it at all.

"Do you need help?" A voice filtered through the elevator, and you almost cried with relief. The boxes were heavy, and based on the man's voice, he sounded like someone who actually could handle carrying them.

Unlike you at the moment, who was using every last bit of strength you had in order to keep them from spilling all over the carpet at the moment.

You worked at a desk. This was more lifting in a day than you did a year. Yes, of course you could use some help. Obviously.

"Yes. Can you push the number for Mr. Fukuchi's office? And also grab one of these boxes? If you aren't busy."

You were praying that he wasn't busy. Those few seconds as you waited felt like hell, but eventually you felt the man's hands touch your own, taking the boxes from your arms and relieving the agonizing weight from your spine.

Sighing, you leaned against the elevator door, feeling how it slowly lifted up to the highest story. Slowly, because despite appearances, the Hunting Dogs headquarters had disgustingly slow elevators despite the million-dollar planes they had parked in the vicinity.

The stairs might have been faster, honestly.

You could also have avoided the man's staring - the brunette was tall, and he glanced at your exposed skin as if you were naked. You turned to the doors, avoiding his gaze.

"Do you, know your soulmate?"

The man was blunt, his honey eyes staring directly at your wrist. He was holding the boxes as if they weighed nothing, and watching him made your back hurt more. What did they feed those military guys?

"No, I don't. Sorry, I know it's nasty. I feel bad for whoever Tecchou is, he doesn't seem to get along with him."

You tried to laugh it off, looking down at your wrist. Right there, you could see what your soulmate had said today, in the same messy cursive he always spoke in:

"Go to hell Tecchou, your food is always shit and I hope you die."

It had only shown up right when you had to go and deliver the files. Because of course it did - your soulmate really had to embarrass you like that in front of everyone.

You remembered when you were twelve you said you would smack the shit out of him. Maybe you would still do that, because right now it felt embarrassing to be stared at like that.

It wasn't your fault your soulmate had such a foul mouth.

Now you were going to meet the leader of the Hunting Dogs, and he was going to see what an embarrassment of a soulmate you had.

Thank god it wasn't on your forehead, at least.

The doors of the elevator opened, and you tried to keep your body straight and rigid, waiting for a greeting from Fukuchi himself. You watched the brunette walk in with the files, straight to the front of the desk as if it were habit.

You followed behind him, hoping you made a good impression.

"Ouchi Fukuchi! I am-"

Before you could finish your greeting, the man held a hand towards you.

"Tecchou, didn't I tell you to take a walk?" The older man was stern, and you stayed silent in hopes that he didn't turn his cold gaze towards you.

"...She looked like she was struggling." His voice was deep and monotone, and he looked almost bored from behind the stack of files he was hiding behind.

"So you decided to be an errand boy?"

"Yes."

There was a silence. You couldn't tell what was going on between the two men, but you were terrified. The look Fukuchi gave was terrifying, worse than was portrayed in the films you had seen before - he was scarier in person. His gaze was intense, as if he was trying to kill the man with his eyes.

"Sir, if I may add. They are very heavy, and I appreciated the help a lot."

You didn't know what came over you. Both men looked at you, and it had you putting your arms and head down, praying that the floor would eat you.

Fuck. You just needed to deliver the files and just go back to your office. You didn't even work for the Hunting Dogs, you worked for a completely different part of the government. This wasn't your business to get into.

"Sorry. Um...Those files, there is a file on top about their contents. They are to be completed and sent out ASAP. Requested by the prime minister. Apologies."

Your voice was firm, despite the sweat that was collecting on your palms. Without looking at anyone or anything, you nodded at the men and walked out, pressing the button for the ground floor several times.

This was terrifying.

The Hunting Dogs were hunting you. Ironic, but you now had one of them showing up at your office, wanting to 'talk' - what was there to even talk about?

You had only been there for maybe ten minutes at most, like, a week ago. If something happened in that facility, you had no part in it.

If you could, you would hide underneath your desk forever. But that most likely made them think you were guilty of whatever crime they suspected you of, and you did not want to seem like a criminal to them.

Their investigation tactics were more than infamous. You did not want to become another horror story.

Steeling yourself, you walked out, bracing for the inevitable interrogation that was about to follow. The man that was waiting for you was standing with a little girl - you vaguely remembered her as the vice-captain, although the man you couldn't really place his name.

His two-toned hair seemed familiar though. You might have seen it on a photograph before, when you were told about the group in a discussion about how lazy they were with paperwork. His closed eyes seemed strange, but tried to avoid them.

The man smiled at you, and it seemed more calculating than warm and friendly. The girl, someone you remembered to be known for her combat skills, didn't seem to be interested. She only blinked at you, bored at your office outfit.

You had to convince him that you were innocent. Of whatever it was that they had thought you were guilty of.

"So. Trying to get all pretty for me?"

The man was grinning, and you didn't know what to say. He had taken a step closer, and out tried to stay as still as possible, slowing your breathing.

If it was fight or flight, you chose freeze.

Keeping your face calm was hard, but you paused your breaths, trying your best to keep your body as cool as possible as the two didn't state why it was urgent that they speak to you. In the middle of your work day.

"Um. Is there a reason why you guys asked to see me?"

You were staring at the daisy-haired man's forehead, praying that he didn't notice that you were trying your hardest to not make eye contact with him.

"Did you deliver files to Fukuchi?"

The girl was bored, rocking her feet back and forth, slapping the man next to her with her ponytail.

"Um. Yes. I did."

"And did you meet a man named Tecchou Suehiro while you were there?"

"The brunette?"

"Yes. And tall, with three stupid tattoos under his eyes. Did you meet him?"

"I believe so, yes. He helped me carry the files to Mr. Fukuchi's office."

"What did your arm say that day?"

That was an odd question. That wouldn't have something to do with any sort of crime, would it? Or were you not thinking straight?

"Oh. Something about killing a man named Tecchou."

It felt like a pause button had been pressed at that moment.

Tecchou was an uncommon name. And Fukuchi had certainly called that man in the elevator by that name as well. How could you have missed that detail?

"...Why are you asking me about that?"

Tecchou had asked about the mark too, now that you had thought of it.

"Did my soulmate kill him?"

Either that, or Tecchou had killed him, and this was how you were going to find out that your soulmate was dead. He was dead and gone before you had ever gotten to meet him. Just one of those tragic cases of a love that never got to happen.

You steeled yourself for the news, taking in a deep breath.

"Jouno your soulmate is stupid."

The girl walked away, huffing and shaking her head. The man in front of you, Jouno, clapped your shoulder, breathing out a sigh.

"Tecchou is still alive. Unfortunatly."

The man's eyes hadn't opened to look at you, staying closed as he struggled to find the words. He was in your space, and you could taste how he struggled to find the words to say what he wanted to say.

Somehow, he was still smiling through the awkwardness, but you had started to realize-

He was blind. And your soulmate.

Your soulmate was always blind.

The strange spot on your back made more sense now. It wasn't some stupid art piece, but most certainly something he felt because he was blind.

"-I don't think I need to say anything. You know."

The man gave up on forming sentences, instead choosing to rub your shoulder and smile.

"Um. Yeah."

You spent nearly twenty years waiting to meet this man, and this is all you had to say? Wasn't there something more?

"Um. Shouldn't we do something?" His hand was still on you, and you didn't know if you should tell him to let go or not. This was the first time you had ever met, and frankly - you actually liked it a little bit. He was warm, and he didn't give you a weird feeling compared to some other people.

"Do what?"

"I don't know. We're soulmates. Shouldn't we like, have a moment?"

In the movies you had seen, there were soulmates who would meet and have a 'magical contact' moment. You couldn't look into his eyes and swoon, but surely he was having a magic moment right now? Wasn't he going to ask you on a date and try to live with you forever or something?

This should have been the start of...something.

"No. This is good enough. Honestly, I'd rather not see you again."

Or not.

His face didn't portray anything - he was still smiling, as if he was working at a front desk and not meeting his soulmate for the first time. You felt like you were looking into it, but surely he also wanted something more?

That smile couldn't be real.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me. It's nothing with you, but it's probably best if we don't try to make this a thing."

He let go finally, and that shoulder felt cold as he stepped away. You didn't know what to say, watching as he slowly removed himself from the little bubble the two of you had.

There was magic, and there was no magic. It was a mirage, more like it.

"So. You just, wanted to meet me, I guess?"

"Just know that you're alive. And you are. Good for us."

Us. But there is no us, because there is no thing, apparently. Just a him, and now you had to suppose a you. A lonely, singular you.

"Sorry. Um. Yeah, okay. Then let's not talk. That's fine."

It wasn't. Or maybe it was. You didn't know what to think, because your soulmate, who you now knew was the Hunting Dog Jouno, had come and gone in what felt like a matter of seconds.

But you supposed that was the end of it. You met your soulmate, and you would never see him again.

So why were you about to cry?

Ever since that meeting, the universe had been playing tricks on you. Or whoever had deemed soulmates to be a thing.

Before, whatever Jouno had put onto your body was so abstract that you could barely understand it. Now it felt like he was playing tricks on you.

"If I die, I don't care."

It felt like he was playing a game. You had only met him once, but if he died, you would care.

You would care so much.

The petty part of you had taken to those high school days, grabbing your sharpie and writing little responses underneath those types of sentences.

"I care." and "I love you, stay safe." was something you had started to write over and over again on your body.

It likely didn't matter. He was blind. But if it ever showed up on his skin, you hoped someone on his team would see it.

Part of you wanted to write it on your forehead and neck, just to shame him. Maybe he didn't care, but you cared - he would have everyone know just how much his soulmate cares about him.

But you didn't want to wash that off. You also were sure that your concealer wasn't going to cover that up.

It would just make the both of you look stupid.

Your day was just going great.

Great. As in, you were stuck next to a shitty criminal, who was pulling at your nice dress and tearing the buttons along the back.

This was expensive.

God. What a dickhead.

And who was going to save you from this guy? He had some weird fucked up ability, and it was freaking you out.

You didn't really deal with that stuff.

This was a time when you chose to freeze again. You wanted to choose something else - to fight back and be brave, or to run, do something.

But you felt frozen. It was honestly hard to breathe, but that might have been from how your dress was pulling against your neck, restricting your airflow.

"Oh shit, it's the Hunting Dogs."

The guy next to you groaned, and you tried your hardest to disappear as you felt him tug and pull you around.

The gunshots were loud, and you were stuck choosing between covering your ears and pulling against your dress as the man tried to choke you with it.

You chose your ears, in the end. However many gunshots he fired, you didn't count, instead trying your best to become a ball. One that would be unmovable, immune to the hellfire that was happening.

Maybe if you became deadweight, he would drop you and run away. He had no reason for you, right?

You didn't know why he chose to use you as a distraction anyway. This was your day off, couldn't he have chosen any other person?

"Goddammit, I said get up!"

The man pulled at your hair, and you screamed. As much as you fought back, clawing at his arms, he started to drag you away from his little spot in the building, to the open area where you could see a whole crowd had gathered.

It was hard to see if any of the Hunting Dogs were actually there, as you could only focus on the pain you were in.

Weren't they going to do their jobs? What the fuck was taking so long.

This felt like it was taking forever. This guy was tugging you around, and talking about something that you couldn't even bring yourself to care about. It was something that a man who would try to blow up a building would say - they're spying on us, they're killing us, they made it all up. Whoever they are, and whoever the us is. It didn't matter, because now your day was ruined.

Maybe you were pathetic, still trying to fight back. The guy seemed ridiculously strong.

"Run."

The word was whispered to you, in a soft voice and with a gentle hand on your back. It might have only been a second - but the moment the grip loosened on your hair, you took the moment to run.

God knows where. But you ran. It might have been the fastest you had ever been in your life, if you were being honest with yourself.

You were just glad the nightmare was over.

Ever since that...event. You haven't had a good dream since.

It was hard too. You would wake up to the violent hair pulling, the smells, and there would be that voice at the end each time.

You would be crying, and each time the voice would say something different. In real life, all he had said was "Run" but in your dreams, he said rather sweet things.

They were things that frankly, you had wanted to hear. He had a gentle voice for a man, and it was hard to believe that it was the same voice as your soulmate.

You kept pretending that it wasn't him. As time went on, you were more hurt by the words he said, you started to pretend that the voice you heard was just a different man you had conjured up.

Something you made while you were delirious with fear. And now he was haunting your dreams, because you were a lonely and loveless woman, who couldn't stop crying in her kitchen because she was scared of something that had already happened.

It was stupid. You knew it was stupid, and you just wanted to be over it. But for some reason, you were left sitting at the table again, forcing yourself to drink a glass of water and play through another round of solitaire.

The knocking on the door scared the shit out of you.

...

Another knock.

Fuck.

Gettting up, you stalked slowly to the door, hoping that the intruder to your miserable peace wouldn't hear your approach the door. You wanted to pretend you weren't there, even if it was obvious you were home.

Another knock.

Loud ones. Impatient ones.

"I know you're in there. Listen, I just need to talk to you real quick."

Peeping through the peephole, you saw him - Jouno, who was clad in a dandelion bedhead and grey sweatpants. His hoodie was a strange faded color, and you were sure it was old enough to be his father's.

Taking a moment, you breathed as you watched him. It was hard to believe he was standing there, actually at the front of your door.

At like what, two in the morning?

You opened the door a little bit, feeling the cold night air breeze by. It made you pull yourself closer together, as the shirt you wore barely covered you enough to protect you from the cold.

Thank god Jouno was blind at least. He would see a lot more than he bargained for, you imagined.

"...What do you want?" You wished you could have your voice sound firm, like an interrogator. But you could still hear the tears in your voice, and it made you want to hide in your bed like a mole dug into the dirt.

You sounded so lame.

"Listen. Let me in, real quick."

He was smiling, the same one that you saw when you first met him. Like a fucking customer service representative, trying to sell you something. At two in the morning.

"I'm not a booty call."

"No, what? Just let me inside-" You started to close the door, not caring for the force you used. He could handle it.

"Bring me flowers if you want to ask me for anything next time."

Jouno fought back easily, but was polite enough to stay between the door and the entryway. He only kept half of his body there to maintain conversation, allowing you the ability to slam the door on him if you so wished.

It was tempting, at that moment.

"I need you to listen. This isn't sex or anything."

"Can't you say it in the morning? Some people sleep."

That was a lie, but you weren't in the right mind to speak to him at that moment. He made you emotional - maybe his whole existence was making you feel too much, but that was likely heightened by the fact that you hadn't slept well for the last few nights.

"That's exactly it! You aren't sleeping. Now I can't sleep. So let me in, because I want to go to sleep-"

He pushed through your hold of the door. He had both let himself in, and you had let him.

"You're so selfish."

For some stupid reason, you had let him into your home and had already started to cry again. It had taken so long to calm down, and now you were starting the process all over again.

God, you were really starting to hate your soulmate for doing this to you.

"What? What's selfish about that?"

"You came here just so you could sleep. Why don't you figure out a way to go to sleep on your own!"

The words were spilling out of your mouth, and frankly whatever you said was not even registering in your brain.

All you knew was that you were feeling a lot at the moment. You hadn't felt like this since you were twelve and had the big mark show up on your back, making you mad for weeks.

Maybe you were still mad. And you were remembering it all just now.

Or maybe you were just really tired.

"I did try! I took enough melatonin to kill a man, but you won't let me sleep with your stupid nightmares!"

The man in front of you looked stressed, and you wanted to feel bad. But at the moment, your mind could only think of the worst words to say to him, to twist anything to try and hurt him.

You took a breath. A deep one, feeling how you were choking your brain from oxygen.

Why were you screaming at each other at two in the morning?

"Listen. I know PTSD is stressful, but you can find a way to cope with it, can't you?"

Jouno put his hands on your shoulders. He stepped into your space, and he was so close you could smell the coffee on his breath.

Maybe it wasn't you, but the caffeine he was drinking so goddamn late into the night.

"I don't have PTSD. I've never been to war."

"Then what is this then." He shook you, as if you were the stupid one here, despite walking over to someone's home in the middle of the night.

"Just something I need to get over."

That's something you had always been told. And you were sure it was something that would go away. Eventually.

"See. This is the problem. You don't even know how to deal with the problem you have. And now, I can't sleep."

The man didn't give you a chance to argue back. Before you could say anything, he hauled you onto his shoulder, his hand traveling along your back.

Desperately, you grabbed at his sweatshirt, pulling at the fabric and praying you wouldn't fall onto your face.

"Where's your bedroom? You're sleeping whether you want to or not."

Without caring to listen, he attempted to navigate your home anyway. It was a little entertaining, feeling how he turned his body in circles as he tried to figure out where to go.

"That's the wrong way. It's the other way. On the left."

You pitied him. If only a little bit.

"Is sleeping really that hard for you?"

Your bed wasn't small, but Jouno made it feel small with just his presence alone. His body was warmer than yours, and you could feel the heat radiating off of him as you laid side by side, with a few fingers space between each other.

Now that you had though about it, you never had really made space for another person in your bed before. There really was only enough space for you.

"I have a strange man in my bed, can you blame me?"

"I'm your soulmate, I'm not just anyone."

Now he wanted to be something. When he wanted it to benefit him.

Maybe you were deeply bitter about the way he rejected ever wanting to be anything at all.

"You really are selfish, you know? You said you didn't want this to be a thing, but now you're going on about being my soulmate."

Because that meant something. It meant having an actual bond, a sort of relationship. This wasn't anything - at most, you had vague conversations, and now he was just a man in your bed who was upset at you for a stupid reason.

And you were mad at him. And you hoped he knew that.

"I wouldn't do this if I couldn't sleep. We're just...people who need each other."

His voice sounded off. As off as you could tell, as if he was lying, even to himself.

Why did he say these things if even he didn't believe them?

"Do I really need you?" You said the words only loud enough that the pillow could hear you, hoping that he had finally managed to go to sleep, or thought that you had.

But you felt him turn around, bouncing the bed and pulling at the blanket the two of you shared.

Of course he heard it somehow. What a freak.

"Clearly! You couldn't even save yourself. You're lucky I was there."

He was closer now, his voice nearly kissing your ears. You groaned, his volume too loud for your wallowing.

"That's your job, isn't it? To save people?"

Waving him off, you didn't bother to face him - like it would matter, when he couldn't even see you. Instead, you hugged the pillow in front of you closer, feeling how the cold fabric kissing your exposed skin.

It was rather cold for the summertime.

"...I didn't want to know you more, because I didn't want you to be hurt."

His breath tickled your neck, and somewhere along the bed you could feel his fingers dance along the fabric, far too close to your shoulders.

You didn't know him too well, but his touch didn't bother you as much as you wanted to pretend it did.

"How were you going to hurt me?"

"My job. I'm going to die, eventually. It'll be a miracle if I reach 40."

His voice was gentle, without the tone of an insurance agent. He sounded honest; speaking as if he really meant what he said.

It left you breathless, and you had to remind yourself that you needed to breathe in order to live.

"That doesn't mean anything. I would still like to know you when you're here."

There was a laugh behind you, a tired one. Maybe he was only saying these things because he was also exhausted.

A lack of sleep was worse than drugs, you had once heard before.

You couldn't even open your eyes anymore at this point. It was just your mind fighting you.

"That would be nice. But I'm not the best person, I would just make your life miserable. You're right, I am really selfish."

"I know. But I think you're worth it Jouno."

After that night, something felt different. Your body felt different.

For one thing, you now had Jouno's phone number. He had texted you, and told you to call him in case of emergencies only.

You had learned that meant when you couldn't couldn't sleep, he really couldn't sleep. And when you couldn't eat, he couldn't eat. and it was an emergency.

Maybe because he was blind, his soulbond appeared differently. It wasn't visual at all, but instead tormented him with your own physical sensations.

It had you wondering if he had ever felt your pain. Or felt anything else you felt.

It wasn't a conversation you were willing to have just yet. You had just started to feel comfortable texting and calling him.

Having him sleep in the same bed was as far as you two had gone, and it had only happened a few times after. He had shared meals with you as well, after you lost your appetite from a bad stomach bug.

It was a strange relationship you had formed. You weren't sure if you were ever going to get closer than you were.

Maybe you were ok with knowing him like this. Like a strange acquaintance, learning weird bits and pieces about him, with unanswered questions that you were too scared to ask.

He was your soulmate. Maybe he didn't need to be anything more than that.

"You know, because of you, I can't really go out shirtless anymore."

Jouno was relaxed against the table, bored as he played around with the food on his plate. Recently he wasn't able to each much at all, and you had stayed over for the last while.

But it didn't seem to have much to do with you. Right now you were stuffed, and it seemed like it was all on Jouno at the moment. He had only eaten a quarter of his plate, and you had considered feeding it to him like a child so he would eat more of it.

"Why?"

"Because. You put this on my chest."

Jouno leaned up from the table and forgot his food; taking off his cotton T-shirt, revealing what you had always believed would be there.

Two lines, right by a little ugly scar - "Stay safe, I love you."

They were a little close together, not a work of art by any means. Your handwriting on someone's skin looked...funny. Almost unreal. It looked blotched out, and it reminded you too well of how stupid you were as a teenager, tracing over the Sharpie over and over again, hoping your blind soulmate would see it.

"You're mad about it?"

"It looks like a shitty tattoo."

That was your one mark on him forever. And he called it a shitty tattoo. It wasn't like the stupid daily quotes and one-liners, it was forever.

God forbid you care about someone.

"...I thought you got stabbed." You didn't really see the point in getting hurt by what he said in anymore. This was just how Jouno was.

"Did you feel it?"

"Don't get excited! No! Weirdo!"

You kicked him from underneath the table, easily kicking at his long calves as they stuck out towards your space. Always your space, because he was a tall freak who loved to walk into the space of others, and yours was his favorite.

The man in front of you only giggled, playing footsie with his too-cold feet.

"I see it. Every time you get hurt, it shows up on my skin. You don't really give me pictures or colors. Sometimes I see sentences, but it's not enough. But I always know when you get hurt."

Which was true. You didn't have his scars, but you knew when they hurt. Because the little lines showed up.

"Not enough? Do you like hearing about my day?"

The man's voice sounded ecstatic, smiling as he trapped your feet between his own, almost in a handshake. Maybe he was playing with you, trying to flirt when he didn't mean it at all.

"I like it when you say positive things. It's not really common, you usually are threatening to kill people. It gets boring after a while."

You let him win, instead choosing to take a bite out of his uneaten food. It was right there, and you might as well take your chance, right?

"Well it did help me find you, didn't it?"

"I guess. Yeah."

You tried to take another bite, but the daisy-haired man took you hand and led the fork straight to his mouth. Part of you wanted to kill him, if it wasn't his food you were stealing from.

Maybe you actually cared about him, despite how weird he was.

"Can I ask you something?"

Jouno nodded, starting to eat now knowing that you were willing to take from his plate. Watching him was funny - trying to be as unmessy as he could, while smearing half of his face in sauce.

It was a little cute, seeing him struggle each time.

"Since I was twelve, there's this...mark, on my back. It's not really something you can see, but something you can more feel. It should be related to you, since no doctor has had an explanation for it."

Saying that was strange. The culprit was right in front of you, and now you were asking him politely, despite him being a man who broke into your home at least three times now.

"What do you think it is?" He spoke with his mouthful and no table manners, and at this rate you would rather have him eat with his hands.

"I don't know! Some fucked up masterpiece by a blind asshole I'm attached to for life. If you're an artist, I'm smacking the shit out of you."

You were starting to remember that promise when you were twelve. It really irked you that you hadn't kept to it yet.

"What? Why?"

"Because it's annoying."

Since it showed up, it ruined a lot of things for you - your expectations of your relationship, your fantasies, your dreams. It was really a bad premonition, because Jouno was just like that mark - fucking impossible to understand. And stuck to you for life.

"I can't believe you think the mark that signifies me, and our bond, is annoying. Wow, you hate me."

"You called mine a shitty tattoo!"

He stopped chewing like a marmot, going back slowly as he registered your words.

"...Okay. And?"

"Whatever. But you should get it." At the very least, if he was going to be a thorn in your side forever, he was going to be a useful one, and solve this for you.

"Why would I?"

"Don't play coy with me! That's how soulmates work! Didn't anyone tell you anything!"

"No not really. I honestly figured I would die before I met you, so I never cared."

He said this normally, as if he had said it before. It was just more dinner talk to him, as he chewed senselessly on his salad.

"...what?"

"I just never thought it would matter. I didn't think we would even meet, and I never thought about what would happen next. I don't think it's that big of a deal, really."

The world turned silent to you, as you heard him say that.

I never cared. I don't think its that big of a deal.

Then what were you doing here?

You never got your answer for that mark.

Stupid Jouno had disappeared to East Europe for the last two weeks, and you haven't heard back from him. Maybe you didn't want to.

He never cared.

You had spent years, before even knowing him, caring about what he would be like. You cared when he got stabbed, and you cared even when he rejected you.

But he never cared at all.

Did he never think about you? Not when you had broken your wrist? He felt your pain, didn't he feel that?

When you went to work today, you thought about getting hit by a car and seeing if he would call. Just to know if you were okay.

But that was selfish. He was probably busy, and making someone else feel the pain of getting hit by a car was more than a dick move.

You also needed that money from your job. They paid your rent, not your soulmate. That would stay a fantasy, and a dead one; where you and Jouno could function like a normal couple, and live together and maybe even get married.

If he was just a normal man. Who didn't say stupid things and hurt your feelings that you hated you had.

It was ruining the makeup that you spent hours on this morning.

"Hey."

"...It's been two months, and that's all you have to say? Hey?"

You had been ready to receive the news that he had died while he was there. Or at least see it on TV. He was practically MIA with the other Hunting Dogs, and no one in the government knew what the hell was going on.

"Listen. It's been a rough two months. When I come back, I want to see you. First thing.

"The hell am I to you? A dog? Should I come back with the morning newspaper?"

"I didn't realize you came with perks." He sounded exhausted over the phone, but his laugh was still the same. It managed to annoy you as well, even after not hearing it for two months.

"Go fuck yourself!"

"...Are you mad at me?"

Yes. You honestly had been mad at him since you knew him, but that wasn't something you wanted to admit to yet.

"No. You just caught me at a bad time."

"Just be at my apartment, alright? And wear that short dress with the strings. Or nothing at all."

"Is this a bootycall?"

"I call you for more things than that."

What an asshole. Jouno was supposed to be a logical man, but he had no clue how to navigate a human relationship it seemed. It was as if he was stepping on seashells every time, and you had to watch them crumble underneath his stupid boots.

He is horrible at navigating anyone's emotions. He only seemed to be able to hurt them.

You tried to keep your voice calm, despite the fact you wanted to cry. Part of you was proud that only your eyes were wet, knowing that Jouno wouldn't know how much he bothered you with his stupidity.

"We aren't anything. This is something."

"...Can we be something? I miss you."

He was almost whimpering over the receiver, and you hoped that someone on the other end could record what he looked like. Because he must have looked funny, begging and pleading like a dog.

"I'm expecting flowers. Or chocolate."

"You like dark, right? You have horrible tastebuds."

"Says the idiot who drinks more milk than coffee." He really should just add an espresso shot to his glass of milk, it was disgusting how much he added and then claimed he loved caffeine.

"Okay. Whatever. Love you."

God, what the hell was wrong with Jouno?

"The mark on your back."

Jouno's hand trailed up your spine, his fingers dancing along the little lines that made up the mark, as if reading it like a page in a book.

It felt good.

"Yeah?"

"It's a map." His lips were right above your ear, and you could feel how his breath fanned across your face. This man had no sense of personal space around you.

"Okay. And of what?"

"It's a map of my childhood home. I haven't been there in years. I don't know why it's on your back."

His fingers went lower, to the little part that was raised more than the rest. It looked like a mole, although the skin around it gave the impression of a faded scar, from what you had been told.

"How do you know it's a map?"

"I memorize everywhere I've been."

"And you know just by feeling it?" His hand splayed out against your back, making you feel small. Jouno's hands were not as soft as voice, and you could feel the work he put in them as his callouses brushed against your skin.

"I've never felt it before. But I know. It's strange that it's on your body."

"Well, it means something. It's been there since forever."

Over a decade now. It had taunted you for over a decade.

"...I haven't been there in a long time."

The man plopped his body down next to you, drapping half of himself on top of you. He was heavy, and his face was nearly smushed against your own as he lay there, as if he were a weighted blanket and not a man.

"You know there's another half of the bed, right? You own a king-sized mattress."

And silk sheets, that smelt really good.

He could roll over and still have space to spread out. There was no reason for him to treat your space like it was his own.

"You smell good." To exaggerate, he grabbed the back of your head and pulled you closer, smelling your neck and ear as if you were a living room candle.

You tried to push him away, laughing as he stuck his nose in the one ticklish spot along your neck, but it was hard to fight in the position you were in. Pulling against his hair and kicking against him was futile as he pulled you in closer, grabbing you two into a hold as he decided that your sweaty body was the best thing he had smelled since soap had been invented.

"Freak!" It was hard to stay serious as his arm danced along your sides, having you choke on the word as it sputtered out in laughter.

Jouno only laughed at your struggles. Because of course they were funny to a sadist like him.

"I um. I got you flowers."

Jouno looked funny when he tried to be anything other than a soldier or an asshole.

He dressed up - and not to beat a man to death, but because he was seeing you. On a date.

The first one since you had actually known each other. It was such a mundane thing, but it felt like you were seeing a wild animal playing dress up. His hair was done as nice as it usually was, and he was dressed in an outfit that you could picture him wearing to an event - he looked like he didn't have a criminal record.

The flowers added to it, bouncing from in front of him and between his side, as if he had never given a woman flowers in his life before.

His smile said otherwise, which couldn't help but make you laugh inside.

"For?"

"To apologize." He decided to push them into your hands, grabbing them around the stems and making sure you weren't going to drop them to the floor.

You would never do that. They smelled too nice.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"There's a lot of times I've made you cry. Usually, you apologize for that." His voice was low, as he fixed the bouquet he couldn't see. His hands were nervously looking for things to pick at, as if they had eyes of their own and could fix the world one little detail at a time.

His face stayed frozen in his stupid little smile.

"Well, it's not like I'm upset about it now."

"Can't you just accept some flowers?"

His hands decided to fix your hair, brushing down flyaways that didn't exist. If you stared only at his smile, you would think he was as calm as a still pond.

"...They're nice." They were your favorites. They matched what your childhood self had pictured for her stupid little wedding day. One you had given up on, but still wanted to believe in.

Maybe still did, in some way.

Jouno wasn't exactly what you pictured - he looked more like a fox than a handsome prince, and the way he smelled your head right now was more weird than romantic, but you were willing to take it.

He might have been your handsome prince.

"So is there a date planned? Or are we just standing in a park?"

"Why do you always question me?"

"You don't really know what you're doing."

Jouno was a brilliant man in a lot of things. But god he could not make up his mind when it came to you and what he wanted out of this.

Was this really that hard?

"You've seen me at work."

"Okay? Are we going to kill bank robbers or something? Is that our first date?"

The man most certainly had his gun on him, which confused you, because you knew that he hated using it more than any other weapon he owned. But yet you were sure that tucked away in his Chelsea boots was his little handgun, that he would pull out in a moment's notice.

Maybe he had one tucked away in his pants somewhere. He didn't seem to bring his sword, which is the only weapon he hadn't complained about to you yet.

"...It's the boring romance stuff. You like that."

"It's not boring-"

"I've seen your movies. It's boring."

He rolled his shoulders back, scanning the park as his earring danced against his neck.

"And what do you want to do?"

"I don't know. Never really thought about it." His hands started to dance along your jacket, pulling against the lapels as if there was lint that he could actually see.

"Maybe you actually like the boring stuff, and just don't know it."

You started to ignore him, instead deigning to walk ahead of him with the bouquet he gave you.

Were you going to carry this the entire time?

"A walk in the park? You think that's fun?" He only took two big steps to catch up to you, and you dared to kick at him. You didn't care if you were trying to trip a blind man - Jouno wasn't a regular blind man, and he would probably throw you both into the grass eventually after one of you said something stupid.

"It's fun when it's with people you love."

Taking the bouquet, you gently slapped him with it. The daisy-haired man snorted back.

This is close enough to what you wanted.

Hey guys ignore the fact that I originally uploaded this half unfinished yesterday! This is for my Valentine's day event, so go check that out lol. Also sorry that its. So long.

#if you see me reuploading this no you did not!#I'm trying something #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs x reader #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd x y/n #bsd #jouno x reader #jouno x you #jouno saigiku x reader #also this is so ooc im so sorry what am i on

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