#and the logical part of my brain knows that there's nothing shameful about it

[retrievablememories]

cherry bomb | jungkook (m)

pairing: jungkook x fem reader

summary: “get fucked or die” becomes the motto to live by when a serial killer begins targeting virgins on your campus.

genre: smut, horror/slasher, college!au

word count: 7.1k

warnings: multiple minor character deaths, blood, gore, violence (including gun and knife use), mentions of alcohol consumption. virgin-shaming and slut-shaming, oral (fem receiving), riding, virgin!reader, first-time sex, protected sex, hair-pulling, biting, fingering, dirty talk, virgin kink/corruption kink, fuckboy JK. is JK a sub or a masochist here? answer: i don’t fucking know!

a/n: inspired by the movie cherry falls (2000). heed the warnings. remember that this is fiction, not meant to be entirely realistic, and characters' views/actions don't represent my own. if this kind of content is not up your alley just block me or make use of the wonderful filtering option in your account settings

sources for the fic dividers: one | two

link to part 2

CHERRY BOMB

don't wanna die? come out and hook up with a sexy girl or guy.

virgins get in free!

THIS FRIDAY

NOV 3, 20XX

[address here]

"very corny." you shake your head, looking at the party flyer in your hands. you'd just torn it down from the bulletin board in your dorm lobby; unauthorized advertisements aren’t allowed, and your job as RA involves these menial-ass tasks. "this is literally life or death...why are they turning it into a joke?"

"it is a joke," your friend camille says, snatching the flyer out of your hands to look it over. "think about it. 10 students get killed since we came back in august, and the semester isn't even over yet. the school administration and local police haven't done nearly enough to address it or stop any more deaths. and the common denominator is that all these people were suspected or confirmed virgins?” you haven’t seen the evidence yourself, but the daughter of one of the local policemen claimed every victim also had virgin carved into some part of their dead body. “yeah, i'd say it's a joke to pretty much everyone at this point. this is what happens when you let the students come up with a solution."

camille hands the flyer back to you, and you hold it limply. "but...it's not like you can look at someone and tell if they're a virgin. the killer must've known them all personally. it just doesn't make sense."

"some of those people had no mutual friends. nothing connecting them whatsoever. not even shared extracurriculars. it's gotta be a perverted stalker with a fetish, maybe. a scorned hacker who somehow got into their private conversations 'n' shit? or maybe he consulted the cards to know who’d fucked before and who hadn’t.”

“oh please.” you scoff. “now you’re being completely ridiculous. tarot cards aren’t gonna tell you if someone’s a virgin or not.”

“then you come up with a better explanation. either way, these folks—" camille points to the flyer "—aren't taking their chances."

"hm..." you keep staring at the flyer, looking at the shiny-red cherries, condoms, sex toys, and other sex-related objects decorating the paper. whoever designed this really wasn't playing.

"so, are you gonna go?" camille asks with a sidelong glance. "free admittance, after all."

your neck burns under the collar of your shirt. "are you?" neither of you have had sex yet, for differing reasons. camille's reason was almost complete indifference to the whole act.

she gives you a look that says i could give a shit. "...you know the answer to that one, dear. so you're not even thinking about it? as much as you have cried to me and lorelai about not being able to find a man you like enough to give it up for, our killer here probably already knows. you practically have a ‘come kill me’ bullseye on your back.”

"i don't know," you say, because you genuinely are thinking about it. “and stop trying to fucking scare me.” despite your logical brain trying to reason with you, you still feel a sense of underlying terror about being the next victim. "the virgin killer," as they'd nicknamed the freak, clearly prefers a specific type of victim, and all kills have been random and unpredictable other than that—and the fact that every victim attended your university. he also seems partial to using a knife on his victims, but even that isn’t guaranteed—3 of the 10 had been killed in ways other than stabbing. "i don’t know why you’re so nonchalant about this, though."

camille shrugs. "if he comes for me, i'll just spray him with my illegal mace and kick his nuts into his throat. then tie him up and wait for my dad to come blow his head off. there are some advantages to having a gun nut for a dad."

you chuckle at the absurdity of it. "you've got it all planned out, then."

--

FRIDAY, NOV 3

taking a rideshare to the party was a smart idea on lorelai's part, because the two little shots you took to pre-game already have you feeling woozy. or maybe it's just your nerves.

the cherry bomb is located at a mansion that isn’t really a mansion, but a large once-abandoned house one of the fraternities fixed up years ago for throwing off-campus parties.

the party is stacked wall to wall with people when you enter, though from what you can see, no one has actually started fucking yet—maybe they're saving that for the supposed orgy later in the night. you just hope you can get someone in one of the backrooms before that happens, because you're not really keen on having everyone in your class knowing what your tits look like.

you have one simple mission here tonight—lose your long-held virginity and get off the virgin killer's radar. once that's done, you'll make your exit.

"actually, i'm surprised anyone else showed up. other than you, who wants to willingly admit that they're still a virgin in college?" lorelai shudders. you roll your eyes and try not to feel offended, sucking your teeth.

"you were more than welcome to stay back at the dorm."

"no! i'm here for moral support, plus i don't want to be alone tonight. i don't care who this killer targets, it's getting too crazy out here to just be letting your guard down anymore."

well, you won't argue that.

you and lorelai dance to the song booming over the multiple speakers, scanning the room for potential hookups all the while. you become more alert when you recognize a familiar length of black hair coming through the front door, plus the tattoos and piercings to match.

you're not surprised jungkook came. he has his pick of untouched and easily corruptible virgins here, which has always been his thing; you've heard him brag about it to his seatmates more than once in your shared elective. not to mention the stories you've heard from the women who actually fucked him. as far as you could figure, it was the usual male ego posturing bullshit about being able to say he was someone’s first—and likely best. for that reason, alarm rises when he makes eye contact and starts making a beeline for where you and lorelai are.

"oh, here comes the campus bicycle," lorelai says, voice deadpan.

you continue watching him from the corner of your eye, trying to see if he's just approaching someone in your general vicinity, but no. once he shoves his way through the crowd of dancers, some unashamedly groping at his body as he does, he stops right in front of you two.

"so, are you here for the same reason i am?" he asks you, grinning like the devil himself. "or are you looking to get that sweet little cherry popped?"

the backs of your knees sweat. "um—latter, i guess." you hadn't meant to answer that honestly, but to say you are caught off-guard is understating it. you can count on one hand the number of times you and jungkook have talked to each other in class, and never about anything of this nature.

"you're not gonna ask me?" lorelai says.

jungkook gives a hearty laugh; you didn't think it was that funny. "everyone knows you're not a virgin, why waste my time?"

"wow, okay. fuck you. you're no saint yourself." she huffs.

"anyway…" jungkook returns his attention to you. "have you really never done anything before? not even sucked a dick? there's no way someone hasn't tried to hit that. not even some 'backdoor action only' like those weird religious girls?"

"is that any of your business? i didn't know we had to give a rundown of our lack of sexual experience before getting laid around here." you snap.

jungkook's eyelids lower a fraction. "i'm tryna decide how easy i should go on you, babe. i mean, if you wanna take this in one of the rooms. otherwise, i'll let someone else have a go if you're not interested."

unfortunately, you are interested, despite his overly blunt manner and objectifying language. even though you know you’ll just become another entry on his long list of flings—someone he’ll tell his boys about later—maybe the fear of death is making you impulsive.

but maybe his looks are playing a part in it, too.

he's imposing with his physique and his all-black attire, his shirt so tight that you can clearly see his pectoral muscles and his nipples, his unbuttoned leather jacket doing nothing to hide those details. you can easily imagine yourself running your hands across those pecs, squeezing them, rubbing your fingers against his nipples and making him moan underneath you, feeling and seeing his abs contract through this stupid-ass shirt that must've been painted on. this brief fantasy immediately dampens your panties.

"…i'm interested," you affirm, dragging your gaze back up to his eyes, and he smirks from knowing you were obviously checking him out.

knowing the direction this is going in, lorelai taps you on the back and whispers in your ear. “have fun but don’t do anything stupid, yeah? i’m not playing auntie to any offspring you and this dude pop out, sis. use protection.” then she makes her exit to go find herself a partner for the night.

“so, come on.” jungkook nods his head in the direction of the stairs, and you follow him through the crowd as he leads you up the winding staircase. you squeeze past two girls kissing on the staircase railing, their motions a bit unsure as if they’ve never done it before but clearly still enjoying themselves.

jungkook pushes a few doors in until he finds an empty room, and you try not to ogle at the random couples you see along the way. not even an hour in and the two shots must be wearing off, because your body is beginning to buzz with nervousness again.

jungkook closes the door behind him when you both step into the room, which is lit by one lamp on a nightstand and the open window beside the bed. he reaches for you, and you shiver when his hand grasps the side of your face, the other snaking around your waist.

“scared?” he asks, his voice low. you shake your head, and he grins. “relax.” he leans in as if to kiss you and you part your lips, but he doesn’t do that just yet. he traces your top lip and then your bottom lip with his tongue, dipping it into your mouth as he switches. the teasing nature of his actions makes your body heat up as you watch a string of saliva spread and then break between the both of you.

he presses back in for a real kiss this time, his nose bumping yours. despite all your fears about tonight, you’re able to unwind somewhat and just focus on the full sensory experience that is this kiss—the warmth of his hands and his mouth, the sappy sound your lips make when they separate and come back together, the scent of his cologne, the taste of his spearmint-flavored tongue.

you find yourselves inching toward the bed, him walking you backwards while keeping you steady. just as the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed, there's the sound of a woman's bloodcurdling scream from behind you, and you nearly shove jungkook to the ground in your haste to run to the door. your fingers are scrabbling at the doorknob when you hear a burst of laughter. a guy you don't recognize crawls out from under the bed holding his phone up, displaying a youtube video of the shower scene in the movie psycho, which is where the noise is coming from.

"that was funny as fuck." the guy laughs obnoxiously loud, holding his stomach. “don’t get too carefree or you just might die, girlie.”

jungkook grabs the guy by his jacket collar like he's a kid and throws him out the door; the guy doesn't object because he knows this is preferable to getting his ass beaten by the bigger man. "fuck outta here, you jackass." jungkook snaps.

jungkook stomps over to the closet to yank it open. "any more idiots in here wanna show themselves?" he checks a couple more areas before deciding the room is clear and closing the door again, locking it for good measure.

“okay.” he sighs, stripping off his jacket and shoes. he takes your hand and pulls you toward him as he sits on the bed. “relax, baby. forget about that fucking clown. come ‘ere. why don’t you sit on my lap?”

with a heavy exhale, you try to steady your still-shaking hands as you shuck your boots off and pull your dress up slightly to comfortably sit in his lap, your legs loosely wrapped around his waist.

he squeezes your waist. “so, where were we? i don’t really remember…”

you huff out a half-amused laugh. “really? i’m pretty sure it was this…” you lean forward with your hands on his shoulders and press your lips back onto his. jungkook follows in kind, his hands running up from your thighs to your waist and back again. the rhythm of his hands is hypnotic, distracting you as you try to keep most of your focus on the kiss, and you fear you may be getting overstimulated before anything has truly began.

as you continue kissing, jungkook’s hands creep your dress further up your thighs until your panties are revealed. still feeling up your legs, his hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear. they have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk, though it makes you roll your eyes.

jungkook whispers against your lips, “let’s try something. will you sit on my face?” you stare at him without a word, not expecting this to be the first thing he proposes. at your response, or lack of, he adds, “i want to make you feel good. do you want me to taste you?” his voice is so soft, so unassuming and cloying, that it makes you feel like a lamb clutched gently in the mouth of a wolf.

your brain is already surrendering to it. “yes.”

you get another kiss and a smile. jungkook moves you out of his lap, shuffles further up the bed, and lies down so that he’s flat on his back, his head surrounded by the pillows. he gestures for you to follow.

taking your time, you slide your panties off and crawl up the bed until you’re near his face and he’s lying below you looking like he’s struck gold. he grabs your hips to bring you closer until you’re right over his mouth. you’re embarrassed to have someone looking at you from this angle for the first time, and you’re about to get too into your head about it when he french kisses your inner thigh, blanking out your mind.

the only thing you know from then on is that his mouth is burning hot. his tongue is everywhere. he licks at you delicately to test the waters, and then more firmly when your thighs tremble around his head, in an effort to elicit the same response.

the way he fits his mouth over your entire pussy and sucks it with just the right amount of pressure so that it won’t hurt makes you feel faint. the way he slides the flat of his tongue over your clit only to suck it gently at the end of the stroke makes you cry out louder than you intended. you’re glad he moved further up the bed for this, because you’re holding onto the headboard for dear life.

the only things you’re aware of are your own out-of-control moans and the wet sounds of jungkook’s mouth working you over. all of it has you so overwrought that you’re already reaching your peak, your grip on the headboard weakening.

jungkook seems to know this without you telling him anything. he pauses and looks up at you with a fucked-out smirk and a wet mouth. you don’t know whether to thank him or curse him for giving you a break. “before you come, fuck my face.”

“wh-what?”

“rub that wet fucking cunt on my face.” heat flares through your body at his frank words. “grab my hair and just ride my face.” he reaches up to take your hands off the headboard and places them in his hair. “you can do it, baby. fucking use me.”

it takes you a minute to get over the fresh wave of embarrassment and find a pace that works, because the connection between your brain and body feels like it’s frying and your coordination is off. jungkook helps guide your hips, especially with how you’re trembling from pleasure and close to falling apart. soon enough, you’re letting go of yourself and moving your hips enthusiastically, if a little clumsily, and chasing your climax. you savor the feel of your clit sliding across his wet tongue and his soft hair in between your fingers, and you push his head as close as it can get.

you come while screaming, dizzyingly immersed in the pleasure. you forget that you’re holding his hair as you yank roughly on it. the only thing that matters to you is that jungkook’s mouth is still sucking your clit through the best physical sensation you’ve ever experienced.

when he finally lets go and gives you reprieve, you collapse beside him on the pillows.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, disoriented. “about your hair, i mean?”

jungkook laughs. it’s funny how shiny-wet his face is—and that you caused it, which is kind of hard to believe in the aftermath of it. “the pain is what gets my dick hard. don’t worry.”

you chuckle breathlessly at that, and for a few seconds you both have that funny little moment to yourselves in all the ridiculousness of the overarching situation.

then jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. “i’m not done with that pussy yet, though.” he brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. he slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance, until you’re shifting your hips closer to him to implore him for more. he grants your request by sliding his finger all the way inside.

having a finger inside you feels okay at first, though not as good as his actions a few seconds ago. jungkook decides to amplify your pleasure by placing his lips on your neck, leaving gentle and wet kisses behind, and you become all too aware of the feeling of your hardened nipples against the material of your dress. the pleasure begins to heighten when his finger finds a place inside of you that makes you throb, your walls clenching around him.

“ah…” you gasp and shift eagerly against his body as he keeps stimulating that spot, not thrusting his finger into you but simply stroking it across that area in a come here motion.

jungkook pulls away from your neck to smile at his handiwork. “that’s better, right?” he whispers, watching your reactions. your lips form around the word yes, though it’s difficult to try to speak, and you worry how unsteady your voice might sound. he waits until you’re clutching at his arm, leaving red lines on his skin from your fingernails, to carefully push another finger in beside the first. you try to breathe evenly, though his refusal to let up on that spot has your lungs stuttering for air all over again. his nose nudges your ear as he leans even closer and whispers, “there are so many different spots to find, so many different ways to make you come; i wanna go looking for them all.”

jungkook angles his hand so that his palm is also stimulating your clit, his fingers thrusting slowly now. you turn your head away from him as your body becomes ablaze, unsure what to do with yourself as your climax nears quickly.

“would you let me do that? learn your body like no one else has done?” he kisses the shell of your ear, and even that small action is enough to tip you closer to the edge with how your body is already so fired up. “who else could make you feel as good?”

this orgasm makes your eyes fill with involuntary tears, and little clear droplets bleed down the sides of your face and towards your ears as your body convulses. jungkook kisses the wet trails they make on your face, still fingering you steadily and forcing another urgent cry out of you. you feel untethered from yourself, like you’re not in control of your reactions, and you don’t know whether to be afraid of that or not.

jungkook pulls his fingers out when you have mostly calmed down, watching strands of your wetness drip between them before sliding them into his mouth.

after you come the second time, you begin to tire. the deeds have been done, and if you want, you can confidently go back out to the party now and say you’re no longer a virgin; you’re off the unofficial kill list and can live the rest of your days without having to look over your shoulder with every breath.

…but jungkook is hard against your hip, and in all honesty, you don’t want to leave without knowing what his dick looks and feels like.

“you tired?” he asks, and the casual air of it makes your stomach flip, for some reason. he says it as if this is something you two do all the time and he’s used to asking you this after wearing you out during a good session.

but now’s not the time to get delusional.

“no. i want more.”

jungkook smiles broadly, teasing his lip ring with his teeth. he sits up to peel that skin-tight shirt off, and you don’t bother to stop yourself from staring at all that skin in front of you. your eyes drop further down when he removes his belt and undoes his jeans, pushing his pants and underwear down enough for you to see his v-line but not taking them off. is that an invitation for you to do it? "you hold the reins here," he says, lying back on the bed again. "do whatever you want to me."

“whatever i want?” you repeat, already sitting up. he nods, hands behind his head, and you take the initiative to straddle him again, knowing you’re getting his jeans wet.

you reach for his pecs first, just like you’d imagined downstairs. the firm muscle of them is mesmerizing; but when you slowly circle your thumb against his nipple and his eyes flutter, a small and breathy moan escaping his lips, you’re sure you enjoy this much more.

you play with his nipples and even work up the boldness to purse your lips around one, sucking it softly, and every noise that arises from him makes your clit tingle.

you eventually move your hands to his abs, enjoying how they flex at your touch. you didn't think his navel would be pierced, not hearing that detail in any of the sex tales you've eavesdropped on about jungkook, and you wonder what else you might find out about him tonight.

“you should do your nipples to match.” you suggest it without much thought as you’re teasing his navel piercing, though you don’t regret saying it.

“would you be into that?” jungkook sounds like he’s actually considering it, watching you from below his lashes.

you grin. you don’t know if you’ll actually end up having sex with him again to see them, but you answer, “i’d love it…it’d be sexy on you.”

sliding your hands further down still, you come to the waistband of his underwear, which is peeking over the top of his lowered jeans. for a second the nervousness returns; jungkook notices how your hands twitch with hesitation. “it’s fine, i’m not gonna bite you…unless you ask me to, though. here.”

he slips a hand into his underwear and grips his dick, though he doesn’t take it out right away; he strokes the shaft a few times, observing your reaction with expectant and hazy eyes. the scene before you makes your mouth dry. jungkook quickens his pace, twisting his hand at the tip and using his own precum as lube, until you are overcome with the desire to see it and you pull his underwear out of the way.

his cock is thick and flushed and glossy with precum. you don’t have much to compare it to, but it’s a good size, and all the previous women have said that he clearly knows what to do with it. he releases it and it slaps against his abs, leaving a streak of precum behind. when you look at him in anticipation of what he’ll do next, he grasps it again and starts stroking himself quickly, like he’s trying to get off. the wet slap of his motions and his quiet groans make your walls clench.

“i could keep fucking myself and you could watch, since you seem to prefer it…” he murmurs.

“no, i—let’s go all the way.”

jungkook smirks and answers your decision by pulling a condom out of his jean pocket. you watch as he unwraps it and slips it down his cock. though you’re already straddling him, he grasps your wrist and encourages you to draw nearer to him. “come here, pretty thing.”

when you’re hovering directly over him, jungkook grips the base and teases his tip against your entrance. “ready?” he asks.

“yeah,” you say breathlessly.

it’s a little slow-going, but you eventually end up with him seated inside you. it’s uncomfortable to be taking something bigger than a couple fingers, but it isn’t terribly painful.

“now, try moving your hips like this…” with his hands on your hips, jungkook helps you grind against him so that your clit slides across his pubic bone with every move. the discomfort begins to ebb out of your mind after a little while of doing this, and you laugh quietly.

“i thought…i thought this doesn’t feel good for men,” you sigh, your eyes closing from the bliss of his firm abdomen stimulating your clit. “this grinding thing, you know. or so a friend told me…”

jungkook laughs too, but he doesn’t confirm it like you expect him to. his only answer is, “a sexy woman on my dick will always feel good.”

he seems to be more about showing than telling, anyway. his hands reach for your breasts, groping them over the fabric of your dress before sliding underneath for better access. sporadic moans escape you as he plays with your nipples, making your clit throb harder and sending more warmth pooling in your abdomen.

your breath wheezes out of you when jungkook starts pushing up into you, his hands still squeezing your breasts. “you’re okay, baby…” he tries a few different angles until he pulls a visceral reaction out of you, your walls fluttering around him and your body shivering intensely. “mmm, there it is.”

your motions start tapering off as jungkook continues thrusting up against that same spot that had you in tears earlier. noticing this, he slips one hand back down to your hip and encourages you to maintain your pace, keeping your clit stimulated while meeting his thrusts. “you’re doing good…” he murmurs. “go ahead, keep fucking me just like that.”

you’re glad lorelai makes you go to the campus gym with her every week, because otherwise you’d be about to collapse riding him for this long. it takes more of your strength and stamina than you’d expected. no wonder jungkook stays in the gym.

“oh, fuck…” the way all his muscles flex as he repeatedly pushes up into you makes you wetter; you no longer have the wherewithal to be embarrassed about the gushy noises your pussy is creating. your whole world has whittled down to this one room, and all you can think about is your next orgasm.

“pull my hair again,” he requests, his eyes dark and lost in lust when he looks up at you.

"jungkook..." you grip his sweaty hair in your hand and pull it to bare his throat, and he gives a desperate moan, his member jerking inside you. you've never felt so in control of a situation before in your life. it gives you a straight adrenaline-slash-dopamine rush.

his neck is just there and exposed, flushed from exertion, and his physical responses make you feel so primal, like you could do absolutely anything to him right now and he’d enjoy it. because of this, you decide to bite his neck, if only to give your mouth something to do. his dick twitches again when you do, another pretty moan leaving his mouth.

his voice is strained when he says, “bite me harder.” when you let go, your mouth travels the expanse of his neck to leave marks in a few other places, digging in harder just as he asked of you.

“fuck, y/n—” the pain of your teeth is pushing him close to the edge too soon, so he slips his other hand out from under your dress and brings it lower to circle his fingers over your clit. jungkook adding his experienced fingers to his constant stimulation of your g-spot is enough to cause your release. your body slumps onto his as you squeeze around him, your head falling into the juncture of his neck and shoulder and your eyes shutting so tightly that you see wobbling shapes in the darkness.

jungkook gives you a few more thrusts rougher than the rest, causing you to cry out. your climax and the aftershocks have your mind so dizzy that you only just realize that he’s reaching his own peak, his muscles tensing and relaxing as he fills the condom with his cum. you hear him groan next to your ear, the sound of it filthy and uninhibited.

jungkook lifts your head from his shoulder, his thumbs on your cheeks, and his lips meet yours in a final slow kiss, his teeth leaving their mark on your bottom lip as a parting reminder.

you're still trying to get your bearings and slide him out of you when jungkook suddenly says, "what is that noise?"

"huh?" you remain immobile for a moment so you can listen more clearly, and you recognize the sounds of screaming and feet pounding on the floors in a bid to run away—both upstairs and downstairs. these don't sound like the same screams of pleasure from earlier. "what the hell?"

you and jungkook scramble to collect your clothes and get dressed, thankful that neither of you stripped down completely, and he throws the used condom into a random corner of the room. you're still making last minute adjustments when jungkook stands up and unlocks the door.

"the fuck is—?" his voice cuts off as if he can't finish his thought.

"what? what is it?" you stand up to get a better view around his body in the doorway, and you scream when you see a lone blonde girl lying a few feet away from the door, slumped against the opposite wall with a slashed throat. her pink party dress bleeds red, and her face that catches the illumination of the string lights glints with tear tracks. you look away from her unseeing eyes before you can cry out again.

jungkook seems confused, peering down the other end of the hallway like there'll be someone there to explain. "it...didn't work?" he asks to no one in particular, as you have no answer. you walk farther back into the room as if putting more distance between you and the body will provide some protection. bumping against the window sill, you turn around to look out the window and see several cars peeling out of the makeshift grass parking lot, nearly running over other people or hitting other cars on the way. you release a stifled scream from behind your hands when someone is too disoriented to get out of the way of the speeding cars and is sent flying through the air before landing painfully, their body now unmoving. the offending car never stops to check on them.

the screaming downstairs worsens, countless voices rising to a fever pitch of shouting and wailing, and you imagine this must be what the pits of hell sound like. jungkook whips around to look at you. “we gotta get the fuck out of here.”

you two inch out of the room with him in the lead, peering into jarred-open doorways to see if anybody could be waiting in the shadows. there are a couple of other bodies in two other rooms, and you wonder—even with the loud music constantly reverberating through the house, did you really not hear the struggles that led to these deaths in your throes of passion? the thought unnerves you. the idea that maybe you were only saved by jungkook deciding to lock the door…

the stair railing you’d walked by an hour ago is now broken in the middle, splinters of wood lying scattered on the stairs, along with more bodies lying on the steps just as haphazardly. the scene looks like the remnants of a stampede; you hope most of these people are just unconscious and not dead.

the dancefloor is a swarm of people in various states of undress pushing and pulling each other as they rush for the exit. there’s not as many people heading for the back door, everyone attempting to squeeze through the main entrance in their unthinking panic, so jungkook grabs your arm and the two of you pick your way through the bodies to get down the stairs as best you can. when you enter the mass of people, you’re exceptionally glad for his strength because it’s easier to get through the opposing crowd.

to reach the back door, you must first get through the kitchen. beside the kitchen entrance in a dark corner, you see someone doubled over and grasping the person in front of them for stability.

you realize belatedly that they have a knife in their stomach; the other person standing over them is the virgin killer himself, calmly watching them suffer.

the killer’s face is hidden by the mask he always wears, which you are seeing for the first time now, up-close—a hairy werewolf head with lemon-yellow eyes and a candy-red tongue. it’s so unexpected that you would’ve found it comedic if not for the context.

a guy in a blue sweater grasps the killer from behind in an attempted surprise attack, causing him to jerk the knife out of the other person’s stomach. the sudden movement causes a spray of blood to come flying off the knife, and you have to hold back vomit when drops of the warm, stinking crimson hit your face. though it feels like time has slowed to a mere creep, all of this happens within seconds.

you don’t see much more before jungkook is forcing you to move again.

you, jungkook, and multiple others barrel out of the back patio door, nearly ripping the flimsy screen door off its hinges in your haste, while the classmate in the blue sweater fruitlessly struggles with the killer in the kitchen. your leg muscles flex harder when you hear the person's agonized shout and the mushy rip of flesh being torn seconds later. almost everyone else has taken the same idea to run for their lives rather than stay and try to fight or disarm the killer; the streets are dotted in every direction with students running for any possible safety, many not having arrived to the party in cars to escape in.

thankfully, jungkook is not one of them.

he grasps your wrist painfully hard in his panic and yanks you in the direction of his car, which is so pitch black that you almost didn't see it sitting in the shadows.

when you get inside, you've never been so grateful to be within the safe metal enclosure of a car in your whole life. hands shaking, jungkook jams the key into the ignition and presses the gas pedal so hard your head jerks against the headrest. however, in your temporary relief, you think of lorelai. your vision doubles as you scramble to open your phone and call her, your head spinning with a new spike of fear. it rings for a while with no answer, and you try two more times only to get the same result.

"maybe she got to safety somewhere else?” jungkook tries to reason with you, his eyes bouncing between your face and the road ahead so he doesn't hit any other cars or any random students still running across the streets. "i didn't see her anywhere in the house before we ran out."

"that just means she could be hiding somewhere in there!" you shriek, unable to control your terror at your friend possibly being trapped in the house with the killer.

"well—maybe just let her stick it out, he won't find her if she just—"

"oh god, but i called her like three fucking times; what if he heard the phone ringing? i'm gonna kill myself."

“y/n, you’re overreacting like shit, there’s no way he’d hear a phone ringing in all that noise—"

unlistening, you drop your phone and bang your fists on your head in frustration and anguish.

sighing deeply, jungkook forgoes any attempt to do a 3-point turn, which requires more coordination than he has at the moment, and drives straight up into someone's yard to make a U-turn back toward the house.

you hadn’t gotten too far from the party house, so in another minute or two and with a couple messy turns that cause the wheels to ride up onto the curb, you’re back on the street leading up to the house. before you can reach it, though, jungkook slams on the breaks, and you have to throw your hands out onto the dashboard to avoid flying into it due to not fastening your seatbelt. you’re not very successful; the move hurts your wrists, and you’re pretty sure some of your ribs just got bruised anyway.

“what the fuck?” jungkook shouts.

the virgin killer with his lycanthrope mask is standing in the middle of the street; he turns to face the car. he has a chokehold grip on a guy you recognize as a popular frat member, who is almost bare except for his blue-plaid boxers. you remember seeing the frat guy dancing with his girlfriend when you and lorelai initially entered the party; he was in the group of guys who put this whole party together as a way to “save” the campus’s virgins.

the virgin killer is holding a gun to the guy’s head, and you have no clue where he might’ve gotten it from. the guy’s demeanor is weak, and he’s barely able to stand, which is obviously from the profuse blood loss he’s suffering; the killer has carved sharp letters into his stomach to form two words—“FAIR GAME.”

“fair game?” you mumble, a sickly realization forming in your mind.

“fuck no—" jungkook is already throwing the car into reverse when you hear and see the first bullet go off, exploding the frat member’s head into an unrecognizable mess and making you scream at the top of your lungs. you hear more shots after you close your eyes and tuck your body down, along with the sounds of bullets splitting metal and hitting glass, and you think you might be actively dying—or maybe you’re already dead. even that would be preferable to experiencing this nightmare.

you can’t think as you feel the whole world spinning, your body tossed violently around. in reality, the only thing moving is jungkook’s car as he whips the vehicle around and speeds down the same street you just traveled up.

for a few long minutes, you only hear your own heartbeat, his murmured and frantic curses, and the strained breaths coming from both of you. you keep your body curled up with your knees tucked to your chest and arms over your face. the car’s engine roars as it races down the highway.

you’re afraid to open your eyes and find out, but you have to at some point. plus, the uncomfortable position is making your body hurt. carefully, you unfurl yourself and turn to look at him. “did you get hurt?”

“uhh—no? i don’t think…?” he takes one hand off the wheel to feel up his body as if he’s just realizing that might be a possibility. “but i’m wired off pure adrenaline right now, so give me a few more minutes to be sure…” he looks to you. “are you?”

“no.” your blood still runs cold at the thought of lorelai being stuck in the house or navigating the dark neighborhood streets at this time of night. maybe she doesn’t even have her phone; maybe it was lost in the commotion. the number of possible scenarios makes you ill.

there’s silence for a while; you assume he must not be hurt after all. you start seeing familiar roads that lead back to the campus, and the gears in your mind begin turning, powered by fear.

“do you think it’s safe to go back to the college?” you ask, your voice small.

after a pause jungkook asks, “why not?” though his face begins to look like he’s second-guessing things.

“the killer could go back to the campus…i don’t know. there was so much violence tonight. it’s like he really has a grudge against the students from our school or something. what if he wants more victims? the campus police are already incompetent, but with most of them off the grounds and on their way to the party house…” you don’t finish your thought. you’ll need to warn camille of the potential danger.

“right, yeah…” jungkook’s hands flex around the steering wheel a few times. “we should…probably go somewhere else, then.”

nowhere feels safe. still, you ask, “where?”

changing his route, jungkook glances over at you. “to a friend’s house.”

#jungkook smut #jungkook fic #jungkook imagines #jungkook scenarios #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fic #bts smut #bts x you #bts x reader #black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black fem reader #fem reader #female reader

[fineghkst]

Cards

summary: azriel shows you exactly what you will miss if you break up with him.

warnings: minors don’t interact (only 18+); smut; break up sex; oral receiving; shadow play

english if not my first language so let me know if you find any mistakes

It has been hours since you decided to break up with Azriel. When you finally said the words to the spymaster and he looked at you with an indescribable expression.

Things between you weren't going so well lately. He was absent, always busy with the missions Rhysand sent him. Azriel suddenly didn’t have more time for you. He wasn’t there at your birthday, wasn’t with you when you finally beat Cassian at during a competition of a card game you were addicted to and, of course, he forgot about your anniversary.

You tried to understand that he was working too much, tried to talk to Azriel and solve everything, but it wasn’t enough. Even if you didn’t want to let him go, you couldn’t date someone who practically wasn’t a part of your life anymore.

So you ended it and felt your heart explode in a million pieces while you stared at his expression turn into something desperate. He’s eyes becoming more tired than you thought it was possible, like his pain were leaking from them.

Countless thoughts crossed your mind before finally talking to him. What would be his reaction? How would you act around each other after the break up? Would he fight for you?

None of them came close to guessing this would happen.

After the discussion you started, with him questioning what he could possibly do to change your mind, he found himself defeated. You had made your decision.

Of course, the attraction you felt for Azriel always seemed to overcome barriers of logic. At some point a thought passed through your mind that maybe you could be mates, but the bond never snapped.

To be honest, if someone asked how Azriel ended between your legs, you wouldn’t know how to explain.

Even with a concrete decision made, of course Azriel would play dirty, showing exactly what you’d miss if you weren’t together.

— Are you enjoying this, love? — Azriel said, finally stopping his tongue from moving on your core. He had his arms around your legs, holding you open for him — I hope you are, because this is the last time you will ever feel me.

A senseless moan left your mouth, disapproving that he stopped to eat your pussy and was talking such things.

Azriel laughed, leaving a small hickey on your tights.

— Hm… since you made your mind and there’s nothing to convince you to come back to me, I bet you thought about this part, right? Never touching me again…

His shadows started to surround your skin, lightly stroking your legs like a ghost touch.

— Never feeling my shadows playing with you… — You whimpered with the thought. No one would ever know how to touch you like he does. — What’s wrong, love? Didn’t you prepare yourself for that?

Azriel moved away from your legs and the shadows grabbed them, replacing Azriel’s hands. He stared at you with something… primal in his eyes. His huge wings half opened and his defined muscles showing. Cauldron, Azriel was so beautiful that you felt like your brain was severely damaged to even think about breaking up with him.

— If you don’t want me anymore, why you’re so wet? Why did you agree so fast to have a last fuck with me? — The spymaster said, still staring you while his shadows begun to stimulate your clit. You could see the possessiveness in his look.

— Azriel… please — A moan escaped your mouth.

— Please what, love?

— Just… just fuck me.

— Why should I do that? — He chuckled.

— I need you, Az. Please. I don’t want to leave you.

— So you’re changing your mind this quick? But you looked so committed to your decision earlier… that’s a shame.

His shadows accelerated the movements, taking you to heaven and back. You were so close to having an orgasm that it was impossible to form a congruent thought.

— S-stop punishing me. — You whined

— Again, I don’t see any reason to — Azriel had a smirk on his face. He was playing with you until you become completely desperate for him, with your brain almost completely empty and the only thing left was his name.

Azriel was succeeding in his goal and he knew it.

— Unless you give me one good reason, love — The smirk turned into a grin. Azriel keep observing his shadows stimulating you, which were moving faster now — Because, honestly, you don’t deserve to have me inside you.

You tried to reply, but it was too much. His shadows were taking you beyond your limits, slithering against your clit. Only incoherent moans left your mouth. It didn’t take long for finally reaching an orgasm.

Azriel never had let you cum with his shadows, he always stopped them and ended the job himself. However, today, the spymaster were playing all his cards, showing exactly how much pleasure he could give you.

Even if Azriel still wearing his pants, you could see the huge painful bonner he had. But he kept his distance, watching you squirm with his fierce eyes. Anyone could say how much he was craving for you, how he wanted to fuck you senseless.

— So… do you have a good argument for me, love?

— I-I…

— I’m listening.

— I just want to feel like you truly desire me, Az — You confessed, trying to normalize your breathing. The shadows loosen the grip around your thighs.

Azriel stared at you, furrowing his eyebrows in confusion.

— What to you mean, love? You really think I don’t want you?

— You barely have time for me, for us. I understand you’re working a lot since the end of the war with Hybern, but I need you to see me, Az. — You pulled the sheets, covering your body.

— I’m sorry, love. — He said, finally breaking the distance between you two and supporting his arms between your body, firming his hands on the sheets. Azriel’s face was so close from yours, allowing you to feel his breath against it — I didn’t realize I was making you feel like this. But I need to be clear: I will always want you and see you. I desire, crave for you so hard that sometimes I can swear I’m going insane. Let me prove it that I’m mean it, princess.

Giving him a small hesitant nod, feeling your insecurities dissipate slowly, Azriel kissed you deeply as his hands took the sheets away from your body, letting you complete exposed to him. His hard cock was pressing against your bare pussy, making you grind. It was impossible not to moan considering how sensitive you were after the orgasm.

— No, princess. Don’t be greedy. — Azriel said, moving away to finally unbutton his pants.

His hard cock jumped out and he didn’t think twice before claiming your mouth again, feeling you whimpering against his tongue while his fingers touched your nipples. With the other hand, Azriel held his cock and pushed inside you.

— Fuck, you always take me so well, princess. — He groaned, increasing his pace — You have no idea how much I missed to feel you around my cock.

He put his shadows back in action, making them play with your nipples. Azriel pinned your wrists beyond your head with one hand, while the other got down to your clit.

— Az — You moaned loud.

— You love when my shadows tease you like that, don’t you? — Your walls started to clutch around his cock. Azriel growled, thrusting deeply — Maybe I let they play with you more from now.

You squirmed with the idea of feeling them guiding you through pleasure.

— Remember, love. I’m the only one who can make you feel like this. — He whispered, approaching his mouth to your ear — And you’re only mine.

Azriel kept moving inside you until you finally felt a wave of pleasure dominate your body. The spymaster didn’t take long to cum inside you, filling your inside.

He stood in and looked to your eyes, both of you breathless.

— I love you. And I’m truly sorry I made you doubt about my feelings — Azriel said, stroking your hair gently as his shadows retreated, caressing your skin before disappearing. The spymaster moved away, giving a small kiss at your forehead.

— I love you too, Az. — You said — I’m sorry I broke up with you. And just to make clear, I don’t want to.

— I deserved it and I’m relieved to know you changed your mind. — Azriel got up and disappeared through the door for a few minutes, coming back with a towel to clean you up. — I won’t let work getting between us anymore, I’m talking to Rhysand tomorrow. He must find a way to solve everything without me.

Azriel lifted the sheets, covering both of you and pushed you to his chest, stroking your hair until you fell asleep.

#acotar x reader #azriel x reader #azriel x you #acotar smut #azriel smut #azriel drabble #bat boys x reader #bat boys smut

[iamasaddie]

and even though I can't forgive you, I really want you

paring: dark-ish!bfd!Joel x f!Reader

rating: explicit (18+ minors DNI)

word count: 6k~

summary: You heard him sending the video as clearly as you heard him muttering those foul, filthy words about stretching your ass next time…

a/n: you know, I was just sitting without internet in my countryside house and this happened. Not proofread because that is just the way I am. Dedicated to all my birdies who love it up the ass 🍑

warnings: PWP-ish; no-outbreak; infidelity; explicit sexual content; oral sex (f receiving); anal sex; degradation/ praise; face slapping; pussy slapping (barely); dirty talk; pain kink; Daddy kink; no use of y/n MY MASTERLIST

part one

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION. I DO NOT CONDONE THE SITUATIONS DESCRIBED IN THIS WORK IRL. PLEASE, DON'T FORGET THAT WRITING AND READING FICTION IS A WAY OF HEALING AND PROCESSING TRAUMA FOR SOME PEOPLE, AND YOU CANNOT DICTATE OR POLICE HOW THEY DO IT AND WHAT TYPE OF WORKS THEY CHOOSE TO CREATE AND CONSUME. STAY SAFE, PRACTICE CONSENSUAL SEX AND SPREAD LOVE.

Nothing changed between you and Jason. You dreaded coming back to your shared apartment that night, unsure of what was waiting you on the other side of the door you'd slammed mere hours - which now felt like centuries - ago. You were ready for screaming, for disgusting insults, you were even ready to come inside the place you called home and see all the traces of your boyfriend - was he still your boyfriend? - gone. What you weren't ready was for Jason to be pacing around your tiny kitchen, two plates of freshly cooked pasta in both his hands, an unopened bottle of red in the middle with two empty glasses on each side of the table waiting to be filled. You stopped in your tracks and looked at your boyfriend, recognizing that miserable impression on his face he usually had after the two of you had a fight.

"Baby?" His voice shaky, eyes looking for hints on your face. Your skin felt tight after you scrubbed it with soap and water in the toilet of that god forsaken bar. You felt wetness on your cheeks, and then Jason was on you, hugging your pliant body tight to his and whispering constant 'sorry's and 'we'll fix it's in your ear.

You didn't think you could. Even if you put all of you into saving your relationship, it wouldn't be enough. Not when you felt freedom more than fear when you heard that 'whoosh' of a sent message.

And when he placed his hands on your hips that night you knew his palms were too small to fill in the bruises on your skin.

The morning after, you waited for it all to be some kind of a sick joke, maybe Jason was cruel enough to pretend nothing was wrong until you went mad and in the end he'd just laugh. But when nothing in your routine had changed, when he still rubbed your feet the next day as you watched some silly rom-com; when he still kissed the tip of your nose gently before murmuring 'g'night, bumblebee' and passed out in a blink, you realized he knew nothing. Clueless. Never got that message. But you heard… You heard him sending the video as clearly as you heard him muttering those foul, filthy words about stretching your ass next time… As a matter of fact, there wasn't a moment yet when that phrase hadn't echoed through your brain, transforming into an embarrassing pool in your panties. You were ready to commit yourself into a mental home for experiments, because the way shame and guilt sent arousal through your veins and ended up in wetness slicking your still sensitive folds until you had to take the matters into your own hands, clearly showed that you were clinically insane.

You tried to remember if there was something you were missing. Something that'd prove that the way everything played out was as logical as the Sun rising in the East.

When Jason suggested you to rent an apartment in a place where he grew up so you could spend the first summer after graduating there, you agreed without hesitation, as long as you actually had your own place and wouldn't be crashing at his dad's. Jason laughed at your joke that you'd give his old man an early heart attack with your after-dark activities but agreed, choosing a small apartment on the other side of the town just to be sure. 'So my man doesn't barge in on us having our daytime fun,' he giggled and pinched your ass.

That was two years ago. Summer turned into autumn, and then Jason got offered a job and you stayed, because apparently 'Texas was as good of a state as any, and why would we give up a place where we’ve already settled'. You couldn't imagine Mr. Miller - a handsome 50-something year-old father of your boyfriend had anything to do with it. You didn't know exactly what buttons Mr. Miller had to push for his son to get a too-good-to-be-true job offer out of the blue. You didn't notice that every time you visited for holidays or Sunday dinners - choosing Jason's small family over your larger but more estranged one - that the man's eyes lingered on you for longer than it'd be considered appropriate. That he'd buy a bottle too many of the wine you had once mentioned to like for the sole purpose of pouring you an extra glass, because after the alcohol took a claim on your body and brain, you'd let yourself stay longer in his embrace when you said goodbye. Would let your hands squeeze his back in a fake attempt at a bear hug, laughing in his broad chest, and his hands that crept lower than your lower back would go unnoticed. And when he was daring enough to squeeze your soft buttocks in his large palms you were drunk enough to pass it as a joke, forgetting all about it the next morning.

But you hadn't payed enough attention to those little things back then, and you couldn’t remember them now. And as you slammed the door of Jason's car, you didn't know how the time spent on the road to his father’s house flew by so quickly, and you were already standing on his porch, goosebumps rippling your skin, nipples hard, in only a white sleeping tank top that failed to protect you from the cold wind of the night. You cursed yourself and clenched your fists in the pockets of your light grey oversized sweatpants, thank god you at least put the pants on, fucking moron. You had half a though to bring your hands to hide your pebbled buds as the door swung open in front of you.

When the light from the inside shone on you, you were taken aback by the way how homey Joel looked. Barefoot, gray sweatpants a shade darker but matching yours in style, and a dishrag thrown over his left shoulder, clad in a worn-out dark grey t-shirt that you supposed had been black once upon a time. For a second there you could swear he was surprised to see you, but he scolded his face, plastering a crooked smile on his lips.

“You haven’t sent the video.” You pointed your finger at him, the accusatory gesture looked ridiculous considering the situation. Joel raised his eyebrows.

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart. Come on in.”

He stepped away from the door to let you in, and as you slid into his hall, he stuck his head out and looked around the already sleeping neighborhood to see if your loud appearance disturbed anyone.

“Why haven’t you sent the video? I heard the - th - the whoosh!”

“The whoosh?” The wrinkles on his forehead became more prominent as his eyebrows shot further up.

“Yes, the whoosh, the whoosh that you hear when you send a message.” You were babbling, cringing at the sound of your voice more pathetic than anything, but you couldn’t stop yourself, it was something you did when you were nervous, forced by your own hands out of your comfort zone.

Joel chuckled in amusement and shook his head. “Figured it’d be as bad for me as for you. Maybe even worse, since Jason's my fucking son.” He took the dishrag off his shoulder and went back to the open kitchen - as if pulled by a magnet you sauntered after him - and threw it on the wooden table.

He flexed his shoulders before turning around and didn’t look at all surprised that like a puppeteer you followed your master’s hand. “What are you doing here?”

The question took you off guard. What were you doing at your boyfriend's dad's place at midnight with Jason nowhere to be seen? What were you doing in the company of a man who blackmailed you into fucking, threatened you to tear your life apart, to tear everything you knew about yourself apart and then didn't follow through with it?

“I… What do you mean? I came to ask about the video.”

You barely had time to inhale lungs full of air when he was on you. Joel’s big hand engulfed your chin and he squeezed your cheeks with his fingers, forcing you to purse your lips.

“Don’t fucking lie to me, baby girl.” His tone was calm, as calm as the sky before being split open with lightning and thunder. “One more time, why are you here?”

Your thoughts were all over the place, the loudest screamed at you for subconsciously thinking with your pussy instead of your brain when you pressed your hands into his bruises before tugging on the closest pair of sweatpants and leaving Jason clueless and asleep, a condition he came to spending a lot of his life in. There was no getting out of it. The words came out muffled as the man’s hand was still squeezing you. “Last time you said…”

Joel barked a laugh in your face, interrupting you with genuine amusement.

“I cannot fucking believe it. You came here to ask me to fuck your ass?” The condescending tone of his voice brought wetness to your eyes. ‘Stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid.’

“No, I - -“

This time you were interrupted by a burning slap that landed across your face and Joel’s annoyed face as he pointed a thick index finger at you. “I said no lyin’.”

The words stuck in your throat, scraping the sensitive skin there like cats that wanted to sharpen their claws. You nodded.

“Goddamn,” Joel put his left hand on his stomach as if he was about to go into a fit of laughter. “You really are a fucking slut. How long have you been doing it, hm?”

“What?” You shot your eyes up to meet his after studying the gaps in his flooring for a couple of minutes.

“Cucking my son.”

It felt like a slap, but it burned more.

“No, I’ve never… you’re the only.. I - - ” You didn’t understand where the need for excuses came from. For some reason, you wanted him to know that you were an exemplary girlfriend, and he was the one who ruined you.

“Poor baby, my cock fucked you up real good.” He cradled your face in his warm palms, thumbs caressing your cheekbones. His movements contradicted the words pouring out of his mouth. “Fucked you so good, that you crawl back to me, and not even three days have passed.”

His right hand let go of your face, sliding down your body in a bold, possessive movement, and ending on the level with your pussy. Your breath hitched as his massive hand enveloped your begging core, pressing roughly. He leaned into you, hot breath burning the skin of your neck and ear.

“Tell me, baby, what is it that turns you on so much?” His whisper thundered in your ears, pumping blood creating a banging background music for his depravity. “Is it the fact, that you are getting fucked by a man more than twice your age?” His palm pushed harder into the seam of your sweatpants that was now pressing directly into your pulsing clit.

“Does cuckolding my dear son make you wet?” Joel’s middle and ring finger found where your hole clenched under the confines of your pants. “Or is it because you are doing it all with his daddy?”

You wanted to cry, but you didn’t know why. Your body was visibly shaking caged in his arms. He bit and licked your jaw - an animalistic move that made you whimper - on his way to whisper into your parted lips.

“You’re mighty silent when it’s not needed, baby, and too talkative when you need to shut up.” He leaned back, and the only contact you still maintained was his hand cupping your sex as if it was glued there. “Got it all twisted in that dumb head of yours.”

For the tenth time this evening, you cast your eyes down, but he didn’t let you avert the pitch black of his eyes for long, grabbing your chin between his index finger and a thumb and lifting your head.

“Answer me, baby.” No matter how gentle his pet names were, Joel’s voice was commanding, and you couldn’t stay silent like a soldier answering to their superior.

“All of it,” your whisper felt louder than a scream to you, but he furrowed his brows in dissatisfaction with your quietness. He wanted you to break, to accept the perverse desires that inflamed your insides like a deadly virus.

“Hm?”

You gulped, slowly accepting yourself and raising your voice. Something different glinted in the depths of your eyes. “All of it, Daddy.”

Joel smiled, actually smiled to you. The genuine gesture showed off his dimple and you grasped for air that suddenly was lacking from your lungs. A feeling close to pride bloomed in his chest as he nodded.

“Correct answer, baby girl.”

He brought his hand to your cheek, large palm bracketing half of your face as his thumb caressed your cheekbone. Rough fingertips trailed lower and lower until his hand was a necklace around your throat. You caught your breath as you felt him squeeze a little, not looking at your face but rather watching the fingers that had your life at their points. Joel's smile was wicked, as if he was wondering what else would you let him do now that you came willingly. He relaxed his grip and grabbed you by the back of your neck pulling closer, and you all but fell into his chest.

"Let's go, baby," he whispered into your hair when you didn't raise your eyes at him. "My bed'll be more comfortable for ruining that tiny hole of yours."

Arousal clouded your brain like a sticky wet fog, you could barely figure how you passed through the hallway and into his dark bedroom, danger being a hypnosis of its own. You only came to yourself when he pushed you on the neatly done king bed covered in dark sheets, you couldn't tell the color until he turned on the bedside lamp revealing blue tones that interlaced throughout his room.

It was spacious enough, a classic guitar in the corner, an old fan turned off on an even older dresser, a table with some paper thrown around - you figured it was something to do with his work, maybe new mockups - and some posters on the dark blue walls that you'd spend more time studying if only Joel's broad frame as he came to stand between your spread legs didn't block the view.

"If you don't wanna undress then at least turn over," his voice got muffled as he tugged his t-shirt over his head with one swift movement. "It'd be hard to fuck that ass when you lay on it."

He laughed, either at his joke or at the way you started involuntarily drooling at the sight of his broad chest. You couldn't stop yourself from licking your lips, finding them dry under your tongue. After that time at the club you couldn't argue that you finally saw him as something more than Jason's dad. He was a man, a handsome one at that, he was broad and thick in all the right places. Joel's stomach was softer with age but there was undeniable power hidden underneath that skin. There was a predator that could tear you apart, and you just came right to him, offering yourself as a meal. His words finally settled in your brain and you tried to turn over, climbing on the bed on all fours and trying to get rid of your sneakers at the same time. As soon as you settled, thinking what you should do next the bed dipped and his hands settled on your hips, trying to yank the sweatpants off.

"Wait," you felt the lace keeping the oversized item on your hips dig into your skin.

Joel stopped, but never took his hands away. "What, you came to your senses finally?" He huffed.

You shook your head, not even feeling the embarrassment anymore, "no, I need to unknot this first, you won't take them off like that." You explained, and his laughter accompanied your frantic movements.

"Fucking hell, girl."

You got rid of the damn item, throwing it somewhere on the floor and turning your head to see Joel's face. He noticed you watching and nodded to your top, "take that off as well while you're at it."

The top flew in a different direction and Joel whistled as he saw your bare form. "No bra, huh? You really live up to your status, little slut."

"I - ", you stuttered, bringing your hands to cover your breasts, "I was in a rush."

"In a rush to get your ass fucked? Now this is just getting better and better."

You wondered why his words didn't hurt, why they sent excitement chills down your back, as if creating a trail to where you wanted him tonight.

He leaned over you, grabbing your hands and yanking them away so you couldn't hide. When his palms enveloped both of your breasts you couldn't suppress the moan that ripped out of you. You hands found his shoulders, short fingernails digging into and breaking his skin that has been kissed by summer sun for at least the last half of century. Joel just hummed in appreciation, kneading your soft flesh with expertise, thumbs caressing the undersides as his fingernails scratched the hardened buds of your nipples. He was still staring at his hands touching you like this for the first time when his low whisper broke the silence.

"All fours now, baby."

You were too lost in pleasure to understand what he was saying, allowed to see him bare now, to touch his weathered skin, you couldn't seem to stop, tracing your hands from his shoulders to his chest, now swiping your thumbs over his tiny nipples that turned out to be more sensitive than you expected when he hissed and swatted your ass with a painful force. "I said all fucking fours, little slut." He growled, adding another slap on top of the previous one for good measure, "don't make me repeat myself."

It was awkward to turn around while his hands were still bracketing your body, but you managed to do as told, forcing yourself on all fours and founding your back pressed into the softness of his belly. You stood like this for a brief moment, you on your hands and knees, him in the same position but on top of you. A quick thought that you must look like fucking dogs in heat passed your brain. Animals, that was exactly what you were. All morals thrown aside to satiate the need of flesh. You couldn't mistake the hard outline of his cock pressed into your soaked panties with anything. A tiny whimper left your lips as you rocked your hips into his, desperate to feel more pressure, and you bit into your soft flesh until you felt a tang of blood on your tongue.

"My eager little whore." Joel's whisper was followed by a sharp bite of his teeth sinking into your shoulder. Anticipation and pain and pleasure all getting you drunker than the most expensive bottle of tequila. "Don't be so quiet, baby, I want e'ryone to know what a desperate fucking slut I got bouncing on my cock tonight."

"Please," you knew what your were begging for, just didn't want to say it out loud. Didn't want your lips to curve in the right shapes to form the filthy words. Didn't want your voice to give life to the filthy plea.

"Please what?" Another chuckle, another thrust of his clothed cock into your crying pussy, another bite to your flesh. "Say it, or you don't get it."

"Please," you begged once more, this time for him not to make you say it. To leave at least some innocence in you, at least some hope to pretend you still got some light inside you. Joel was having none of it, his smile glinting with cruelty when his eyes found yours as you turned your head.

"Say it, right now, or get up and get the fuck out of here." His words hissed into your skin were as gentle as a venomous snake's deadly bite. A tear rolled down your cheek because you knew there was nothing that would make you leave his bed right now. Not even the hope of your life getting back to normal would make you give up the promise of pleasure that laid in his hands.

"Please, Daddy, fuck my ass."

Joel's growl was animalistic, bordering on terrifying as he stopped caging you in favor to yank your panties off. A little fumbling and there was the last garment keeping the dignity (which you left behind as soon as you crossed his doorstep) intact. The fact that he was still half-clothed while you were stark naked and desperate under his demanding fingers was both intimidating and thrilling. The power he held upon you in more that one way turned your whole being in one of an obedient toy. His mouth was once again pressed into your ear, "I can feel you trembling, just can't wait to be ruined." This time there was no mocking in his voice, just pure carnal need to break you in half and put you together. Like it was his God given right to claim you in all the ways he deemed desirable. The sharp edge on his nose travelled town your backbone until his teeth sank into the flesh of your butt and you couldn't hold back a painful moan that deserved you another one, even harder, just underneath the first one.

Joel's hands spread your asscheeks and you felt his nose swiping lower, shuddering when it bumped into the tight ring of muscle that was abandoned in terms of pleasure as long as you lived.

"That pretty pussy dripping all over my sheets, baby. What a shame leaving her depraved today." He mumbled into the sleek lips of your cunt, his words vibrating into your flesh, making you scoot back and practically bump into his mouth. You expected another rude comment, a slap to you ass or even to your pussy, but Joel rendered you speechless again when you felt a broad swipe of his tongue from your clit and to your sopping entrance. The man continued humming inside you as he held your cheeks further apart, letting his tongue slide in an out of you deeper than anyone had ever tried to be before. The wet tense muscle caressed your folds with deliberate strokes, nipping at your swollen folds with his lips, as if he was kissing your mouth. You dug your nails into your palms, feeling the telltale sings of your orgasm approaching, the string in your belly pulling taught two, three strokes of his tongue away from snapping.

The obscene noises of Joel slurping your arousal made you blush, but you wished nothing more than for him to continue playing with your body like it only brought pleasure to him. Like eating your out, drinking you down was his reward. Like he wanted nothing more than to suffocate in your pussy.

"Joel, I'm - -"

His name slipped from your lips and at that exact moment his tongue left your burning flesh. This time the tears that drew rivers on your cheeks were from being denied, denied something that was just there. As if you were a kid, squeezing their favorite candy all the way up to cashier when your dad told you you can't have it. You wanted to scream, beg, cry, anything that would make him give you the damn candy. But Joel wasn't the one who'd be affected by a temper tantrum.

"Sorry, baby, almost forgot what you're here for." The cheer in his voice gave out exactly how he felt about it. He didn't forget for a second. He might've lost himself in the way your taste claimed his tastebuds, but he was never going to give you that orgasm. And when he didn't stop little chuckle escaping his lips you realized that he wanted you to know that. Wanted you delirious from the lack of it, feral and mad. And that was exactly how he had you right now.

"Please," you hiccuped, "please, Daddy, please."

"My little slut, you beg so pretty." He squeezed your asscheeks together painfully, before bringing them apart again. "How can I ever say no to you?"

With this he brought the tip of his index finger to your tense entrance and circled the sensitive skin of it. Instead of pushing into, he plunged two of his fingers into your pussy and you gasped at the unexpected fullness. "Now, baby," he spoke as his fingers meticulously pumped in and out of your wet cunt in almost absentminded movements. "You better relax that tiny ass of yours or it will be painful. Mind you, I will still tear it apart," you shivered at how mundane his tone was, "but I though you might want to help yourself to enjoy that. So, relax for me, little slut."

His degrading pet names felt like kisses on your skin, and the next time he brought his now sleek fingers to your asshole you felt your muscles relax even without giving them a conscious command.

"Theeere we go," his thick index pushed inside and oxygen left your lungs. The sensation was new, raw, something you'd never thought you'd experience. He just settled one of his fingers inside you but you already couldn't wait for more, unknowingly tensing your muscles around his finger.

"Fuck, baby, what a tight fucking ass. Can't wait to ruin it with my cock."

The words were too quiet so you though that he could've been speaking to himself until he addressed you. "How many cocks did this pretty ass take, hm?"

You shook your head, the thickness of his finger making you feel fuller than you thought it would. Getting your whimpers as response he sighed as he added a second finger next time his finger slid into your slowly opening hole.

"When," in "I," out "fucking," in, "ask" out, "you" in, "fucking" out, "answer" in, two digits spreading wide inside you, making your hole open up more than it had ever before. You could feel his gaze stick to your entrance that instinctively tried to close but was forced open. And then you heard the unmistakable sound and felt wetness trickling inside you. He fucking spit into your open asshole, and it was something that ripped words right from your chest.

"No one, ever. No one ever fucked my ass, Daddy, just you."

He continued pumping his fingers in and out of your abused hole, skin around it becoming puffy and glistening with all types of bodily fluids.

"Never had your ass fucked and came to me? Fuck, little slut, you should've been smarter. You know my cock ain't for the first timers."

He took his fingers out of you and settled back on his knees, for a second admiring the way your hole was gaping just a little, inviting him back in. For the longest second you thought that after he learned about your virgin ass, he'd just send you on your merry way, but relief overtook your fear when you heard him popping open a bottle of something. Lube, you figured.

"But there's no turning back now," his voice was interlacing with lewd sounds of him pumping his cock, and you couldn't stop yourself from turning your head to admire the heavy, dark flesh accessorized by veins and a bead of precum glistening on its tip like a jewel in the low light. His dick looked massive even embraced in his large hand, and before you could think the question, he answered it with a cocky smirk, "we'll make all of it fit, baby. I want you to feel my balls slapping your cunt as I ruin your ass."

Your pussy clenched around nothing, another glob of your arousal running past your sleeked lips, leaving an evidence of your desire in a from of glistening trail on your legs. You didn't care about anything at this point, not the embarrassingly loud moans and pleas sticking to your lips, nor the shameful need coursing through your body as the wrong, wrong man leaned over to claim the last part of you left untouched by him. You didn't even care about the pain as he pushed just the tip of his burning flesh inside of you. You only cared about feeling him so deep inside you that he'd leave bruises on the inside of your perverted body.

"Fuck, baby," his groan was almost pained, "c'mon, be a good slut, relax for me some more."

Joel's hand snaked around your waist and found it's place on your pussy, slapping it a couple of times, as he growled in your ear, "I said fucking relax that ass for me, precious."

You squeezed your eyes tight, white flakes of pain and desire dancing behind your closed eyelids as you felt him push deeper, deeper and deeper still. When he said he'd tear you apart on his cock, you were more excited than terrified, but now it felt like he was trying to fuck you with a baseball bat, still not bottoming out when you already felt him in your throat. You remembered he was big, but he didn't feel that big when he was claiming your pussy. Bigger and thicker than you ever had, for sure, but now he just felt inhumanly massive and the pain started to slowly become unbearable as you pushed one of your hands back and pressed in into the tense muscles of his stomach.

"I can't, I'm sorry, I can't," you started to cry, not sure if it was from pain or from disappointment in yourself. It was too much, there was no way you could take all of him, he was right when he joked about not being for the 'first timers'. Just when you thought he'd make some snide remark, forcing himself into you still, suffocating your cries with intricate insults, he stopped. One of his hands pressed into your tailbone, massaging the spot and forcing you to relax a little, and the other gently covered your trembling stomach.

He pressed his lips to your shoulder blade, kissing it gently as his whisper cut through the fog in your brain.

"You can, baby. Y'know why?" You shook your head, answering him or telling him he was wrong, you didn't know, fat salty tears fell on the pillow, creating black constellations on the dark material. "You can, because you're perfect. I know that, and you should know that, too." He pressed harder on your stomach, his hand splaying on it and engulfing almost all of your soft flesh. "You can, because I want to feel myself here, and you want that, too. Don't you, baby?"

To answer his question you pushed your hips back, taking another inch of his cock into your warm heat, and he rewarded you with his expert fingers playing with the swollen bud of your clit. "Good girl, such a good girl for Daddy, taking me all the way inside. You ass is so tight, won't ever be able to stop fucking it. Want to fuck it so many times that you take me with no resistance at all, baby."

Your moan deafened you both as you felt his balls do exactly what he promised, a heavy swing on them slapping against your pussy.

"Fuck, that's it, that's it, baby." Once again he stilled, now all the way inside you, feeling your tight hole choking him in the most delicious way. "Tell me who you are?"

"A good girl," you choked on the sensation rippling through your body. His hands never left your clit, playing with it like he created you for himself with his own hands.

"That's right. You're Daddy's good girl."

"I'm Daddy's good girl," you echoed his words like you were in a trance.

"And now Daddy's gonna ruin you, baby."

Whatever wanted to leave your mouth caught in your throat as Joel slid almost all the way out and pushed back in a painfully long stroke. After he had opened you up there was no stopping him. You whines and moans only added to his ferocity, his hipbones bruising your ass with every push. He cock was cutting into you easily, like a knife into a brick of soft butter that was forgotten on the table.

Your body was on fire, but your mind was underwater. The contradicting feelings confused you, but brought your pleasure to the new level. Your head was empty of every thought but 'more', your soul having no emotion but greed. You felt full, full, full, but pushed your body to meet his as if you wanted to swallow him whole, and it still wouldn't be enough.

Joel smacked your ass, seeing you actively jumping on his cock, your tight ring of muscle stretched to the limit around his girthy shaft. "Such'a good fucking slut. All mine. All fucking mine."

Every word was accentuated by a slap of his balls against your sensitive cunt, each harder than the other. His left hand pressed in your tummy and you cried like a woman possessed feeling exactly how deep he was, the thought of it combined with the fingers of his right hand that never stopped playing with your clit overwhelmed you. Your throat was raw, but nothing compared to your ass as Joel's massive cock continued pounding into you.

"I'm right here, baby, feel me?"

You just continued to cry and moan and whimper non-stop, your mouth dry and your jaw hurting from being spread open in an attempt to get those feelings out of you.

"I'm gonna cum so deep inside of you. Your hole is so stretched you won't be able to keep none of it inside."

It was filthy, the images he painted with his words made you feel dirty and you reveled in it. You felt disgusting, it was divine.

His steady movements started to falter and he grew rigid inside you, "come on, little slut, cum for Daddy, I know you want to."

He was right. It was fucked up how he knew you better than you knew yourself. You were on the edge for the longest time, pain just another source of your pleasure. Your head felt heavy and you dropped it, catching an upside-down glimpse of his hand on your belly and something - fuck, that was his dick rearranging you guts - moving inside you. The sight was the final straw that held you together, your hands gave out as you fell face first into his pillow, body convulsing in a soul-crashing orgasm. You were just a rag-doll, pulsing around him as he pumped you full of his cum. "Fuck, fuck, fuck," his vocabulary fucked down to the most basic expletives as he shuddered on top of you.

"You should go now."

When the words cut the silence of the room you weren't exactly surprised. His cum was still trickling out of your painfully sore ass while you laid on your stomach, him on his back beside you staring at the ceiling. It's not like you were waiting for him to kiss you goodnight as you pressed your still sweaty bodies together in a perfect puzzle piece and drift off to sleep. It was still unpleasant, though. You swallowed down the toxic taste his words left in your mouth and got up, nakedness of your body suddenly too shameful and not in an erotic way, as you scraped for clothing thrown all over his bedroom floor.

His eyes were watching you intently, and as you picked up the last item - your panties - he sighed.

"Leave these."

When you thought that man couldn't surprise you more he'd say some shit that would make your eyebrows disappear in your hairline. You searched for answers on his face, for the reason he'd ask for it, but found none.

"I'm no good for anythin' else, baby."

You didn't know what you nodded to, wether you were agreeing with him or your head was just too tired to keep up straight. The hand clutching your panties relaxed, letting them drop back to the floor as you left his room.

#joel miller x reader #iamasaddie fic #tlou fic

[seasonsbloom]

all in. (hangman)

pairing ; jake seresin x female!reader

synopsis ; you make jake's dreams come true. aka the face sitting fic

wc ; 2.7k

warnings ; 18+ only, minors do NOT interact; literally just filth; established relationship; face sitting; like one mention of choking; dirty talk; tiny bit of spanking; some power dynamics but nothing crazy; oral (f!receiving); one mention of public sex

note ; a lot of people wanted this pls don't blame me. technically part of the bad habit universe but can 100% be read separately!

title from lovesick by banks.

Jake looks like he’s about to have an aneurysm.

“Or maybe, like… not,” you backtrack immediately, feeling the blood rushing into your cheeks. “Forget I said anything. It doesn’t matter, it’s fine, never mind….”

“Sweetheart,” Jake says, enunciating very clearly, from where he’s still spread out on the bed, propped up on his elbows. “What the fuck?”

You can’t look at him. With his tousled hair and the bare skin of his chest, with his eyes still a little bleary from his nap and the pillow indents on his face. He’s so fucking hot, and it drives you crazy, clicks your brain off temporarily. That’s how you got here in the first place.

“Forget about it,” you mumble and go back to stuffing t-shirts into a drawer. The air still smells like laundry detergent.

“Say it again.”

Jake has this thing he sometimes does. When his voice goes just a little stern, a little tense, the tone clipped with a mixture of authority and anticipation that leaves no room for argument.

Immediately, your knees go weak, and before whatever part of your brain is responsible for logic can talk you out of it, you’re saying, “I want to try sitting on your face.”

And that’s a lot for a Tuesday afternoon.

In the few months you’ve been with Jake, you thought most of your inhibitions were swept away in the waves of filth he seems to spew like he gets paid for it. You’ve fucked all over his apartment - in the kitchen and the living room and the shower - and you even had a pretty memorable moment in a bathroom at the Hard Deck that ended with your soaked panties stuffed into his service khakis.

Now you find that, apparently, there’s still some shame left in you.

You can’t look at him, so you stare down at the paisley print of the bed sheets. The weight of his gaze crawls across your skin.

“You want to sit on my face?” Jake repeats, his voice simmering with a low heat that travels straight from your ears down your spine.

“Only if…” You bite your lower lip, shrug, feel your heartbeat kick up a notch and then another. “Only if you want to.”

Jake laughs, and the sound startles you. You glance up at him, his tanned body awash in the dimming afternoon light, the sheets folded like mountainsides around him.

“Honey,” he says, “I think I told you to sit on my face the first time I ever fucked you. Fuck do I want this.”

It always makes you giddy to hear he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him. It’s all the time too, in the morning, in the evening, at dinners with your friends and his hand way too high up on your thigh. Incredible that either one manages to get any work done in between Jake railing you to the brink of consciousness.

“Come here,” he says and stretches his arms out to you.

You go immediately, always so easy for it. The mattress dips beneath your weight, the sheets crinkle where your knees dig into the fabric, and then his mouth is on yours, his fingers tangled in your hair, his tongue slips between your teeth. It’s the warmth of familiarity, of knowing what it is that makes him tick the same way he does, and it lights a spark inside of you.

Jake fucks his tongue into your mouth a few times, sloppy and filthy from the beginning. There’s no use for pretending, for coyness, for pleasantries, not after so much time together. You know who he is. 

His thumb drags down the front of your throat, and he presses down just once, the barest hint of pressure. Against his mouth, your breath hitches. It’s a promise of something else he’ll show you, something else he’ll offer, and you’ll deny first, scared and curious in equal measures, and then you’ll come back in a few months and ask for it. And he’ll give it to you. It’s the way it always goes with the two of you. A familiar dance.

“Look so hot,” Jake whispers into your mouth, tugging at the edge of your shirt. His shirt, really, old and worn and holes littering near the collar. “Had me staring at this little ass every time you bent over.”

An open palm lands on your asscheek. It’s not forceful enough to hurt, but the sound of skin on skin claps through the air regardless and you yelp, jerk forward.

“Hey!” you call, pushing away from him, but Jake just laughs and pulls you in again, pulls you over him, arranges you so your legs fall open around his hips, so he can drag you down towards where he’s half-hard in his boxers. 

Then he’s grinning up at you, hair still a mess, eyes still lidded with lassitude, but something else sparkling behind them too. He keeps his hands high up on your legs, cupping the backs of your thighs, thumbs digging into the skin.

“You did it on purpose?” he asks, his pointer finger traveling up and in, inching slowly, ever so slowly, towards where you know slick is beginning to gather. “Not wearing any panties so I can get a good look at your pretty pussy?”

You’re shaking your head in protest, but the effect is diminished when the hand around your thigh tightens and you moan.

“No,” you gasp, and it’s pathetic considering you’re rocking down against him, voice breaking when your clit catches against his dick, settles on the fabric of his boxers, “couldn’t… dryer’s not through yet.”

He grins, and you can’t describe that expression as anything but devious. “So you decided to walk through the house without panties, huh?”

You shrug even though you’re already teetering on top of him, stomach clenching rhythmically. “It’s just you,” you say.

Jake hums, using the leverage on your legs to pull you more forcefully against him, your center moving over his length. Voice a tad breathless, he says, “And I get to see your pussy any time I want, huh? You gonna let me get a good look soon as I ask, won’t you, sweetheart?”

Embarrassment curls low in your chest, but you barely notice it. Not with the shivers racking up and down your back at his words, not with the heat he pours into your veins. He knows the answer, of course, as do you, but hearing him say it is exhilarating every time. Because you’re Jake’s, just as he’s yours.

“Yeah,” you breathe softly. “Anytime.”

Jake’s grin grows. “Good girl,” he says, then he taps the side of your thigh. “Now get up here and sit on my face.”

The nerves get the better of you somewhere over his chest, and you hover, hesitance roaring its ugly head. What if I crush him? that’s all you can think, and you bite your lower lip, sink your fingernails into the top of your thighs.

Jake raises an eyebrow. “I thought I told you to get up here, didn’t I?”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, shrug, say, “I don’t… maybe this is a bad idea.”

Without looking at him, you make a move to climb off, but Jake’s quicker. He catches you by the wrists, lets his fingers slide down over the plane of your palms and tangles them with your own. Pulls your arms down into the sheets on either side of his head.

“Do you really not wanna do this,” he asks, “or are you just getting cold feet? Cause one we can work around, the other we can’t.”

You glance at your interlocked hands, his skin against yours, and shrug again.

“Not an answer, honey,” Jake reprimands gently but firmly.

The longer you’re with him, the more you understand that Jake isn’t really someone you can lie to. He’s painfully perceptive, at least when it comes to you. Like he’s attuned to your every minuscule expression, every dip or rise in your voice.

You sigh and nod. “I’m nervous,” you admit.

“Nervous about what?”

“I don’t know….” You blink into the sunlight streaming in from the window just to avoid his eyes. “Maybe you won’t like it.”

Jake scoffs. “Honey, I think about eating your pussy up in the air so often it’s a wonder I haven’t gotten discharged for dishonorable conduct yet.”

It punches a laugh out of you. He’s ridiculous.

And then the apprehension trickles back in, sudden and dousing.

“What if like… I choke you or something?”

Jake rolls his eyes at the same time he squeezes your hands. He says, “If I drown in a pussy as pretty as yours, I think I’ll get a medal. I mean, what a way to go.”

You untangle one hand to swat at his chest, but Jake just laughs. With you on his chest, he can’t possibly reach your lips, so he turns his face to the side and presses a tender kiss to the top of your thigh that has your stomach seizing.

“Don’t worry, honey,” he mumbles into your skin. “You won’t choke me, okay?”

The fear hasn’t completely dissipated, but Jake seems so eager, so confident, that it reassures you at least somewhat. “Alright,” you agree slowly.

“Thank god. Now would you please finally sit on my face?”

He doesn’t really wait for you to comply, just gets his second hand out of your grip, too, both of them finding the tops of your thighs again, and tugs you the last few inches up unceremoniously. Your clit bumps against his nose, your knees dip the mattress by his ears, and you yelp, you gasp, you whimper.

Below you, Jake hums, and you feel it against your pussy, feel the warm exhale of his breath, feel your whole body clench in answer.

"Taste so fucking sweet," he moans.

Jake wastes no time, diving in straight away. He plants a single kiss on your clit, then lathers his tongue all around it, spreads his fingers wide and firm on your hips, and pulls you more securely against his mouth. Like he really wants to make good on that prospect of drowning in you.

It’s a weird position, balanced on top of his face as you are. There isn’t really anywhere to go except down, down against his mouth and his tongue and his chin and his lips. Gravity makes damn sure of that, drags your weight to him, onto him, into him. You feel strangely tall, towering over him as you are with Jake pressed flat to the mattress.

Then he thrusts his tongue into you without preamble, and a strangled shout rips from the back of your throat. You teeter precariously, hands coming forward to brace yourself against the headboard with a resounding thud. Your head spins like one of those wheels of fortune at a fair, round and round in rapid circles.

Jake fucks his tongue in and out steadily, presses his nose into your clit, and you swear you’ve never been this wet before. With the position, it just seems to pour out of you, streams of it, and then you think of his face smeared in you, the evidence of what he’s doing to you staining his chin and his neck and his cheeks, and your eyes roll backward in your head.

“Been dreaming of this,” Jake whispers as he draws back just a little, his voice rough. Another kiss to your clit, almost tender if it didn’t send currents of electricity through you that sizzles somewhere in your fingertips. “You on top of me, my face in your sweet little cunt… god, sweetheart, you don’t know how fucking hard this gets me.”

Part of you wants to turn around, reach over your shoulder and find out, but Jake’s mouth latches back onto your pussy, wide open and wet and hungry, and it’s all you can do to whimper, to grab onto the headboard for dear life. White-knuckling the wood.

His fingers tighten on your hip to the point of pain, and it takes you a moment to realize what it is he wants. Then it’s nothing but obedience, logic having no part of it. Instincts only, your whole being reduced to nothing but bare, primal basics with Jake’s tongue shoved into your pussy.

You start moving your hips slowly, carefully, still scared you might hurt him somehow. Still scared he won’t like it.

But Jake’s answer is enthusiastic, to say the least: Fingers clutching even harder, tongue fucking deeper, a moan that vibrates all the way up to your chest.

Tossing your head back, mouth opening around the shape of a keen you don’t let out, you press your eyes closed and let the heat wash over you. Swallow you. Burn away any last traces of propriety or apprehension or thought.

It’s just this now: Jake’s mouth on you, Jake’s fingers on you, Jake curling around you and beneath you and inside you. Jake everywhere. Even the bedsheets smell like him, the shirt you’re wearing, your hair from using his shampoo in the shower earlier - cinnamon and spice.

Every time you rock your hips forward, it knocks your clit against the tip of his nose and has your stomach clenching. Every time you rock back, Jake’s tongue is already there to meet you, the wide wet stretch of the muscle spearing you open.

You’re pretty sure you’re close to tears, lower lip swollen from the sting of your teeth. You can’t even stay upright, slump against the cushion of your folded arms against the headboard.

Jake’s fingers leave your hips once he’s sure you’ll maintain the motion that has you riding his face the way you ride his cock, trail down to sink into your ass instead. To knead it, to spread, to tug you forward with more force, to help you along, or maybe to take you apart completely.

With Jake, you can never be sure if it’s his kindness or his sadist streak that is at the wheel.

You can feel it building, feel it gathering in the pit of your stomach. Tension tightens every muscle now, everything locking up, your toes curling and mushing into the sheets, your mouth open and leaking drool onto your own forearm.

“Jake,” you whimper, press your eyes closed tighter until stars reel across your vision, fuck yourself forward and sob at the open pressure of his mouth, “Jake, I’m gonna… Please, please, I….”

You don’t even know what it is you’re asking for. You just can’t take it anymore, you can’t, it’s going to take you apart, it’s going to crack you open, it’s going to bowl you over, it’s going to…

You think Jake is saying something, but it’s muffled by your cunt in his mouth, by the blood rushing in your ears, by the roaring, screaming, deafening jackhammer of your own heart. It sends even more tremors through you, your thighs shaking, trembling, and then his fingers tighten in the flesh of your ass, his tongue drags a long, long, long stretch from your hole to your clit, and then he wraps his lips around the swollen bud and sucks, and you’re falling.

The tension drains out of you all at once, a lighting of relief, and you’re sobbing, you’re babbling, you’re chanting his name as the pleasure washes over you. As you fall apart in the best of ways, with your nerve-endings on fire and your body numb and not a single fucking thought in your brain, nothing but good good good so fucking good.

You’ve got nothing left, melt into a puddle right on top of him, go sliding off his face on a wave of spit and cum and drained energy. Jake is whispering something in your ear, gathering you against his chest and peppering kisses to the top of your head. His face is wet with you, sticks to your hair.

You can’t help it. It makes you grin.

“See?” Jake whispers, nudging his nose against your cheekbone. That’s damp too. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

The answering grunt you give makes Jake laugh.

“God,” he says, and when you glance at him through the curtain of your lashes, too tired to open your eyes all the way, he’s the picture of debauchery: cheeks flushed, hair a mess, chest rising and falling rapidly, lips swollen, face wet and glistening with your cum. Where you’re soaking into the fabric of his boxers, your cunt clenches just once, makes you hiss softly. “That was so worth the wait.”

You can’t help it. You agree.

#hangman fic #hangman x reader #jake seresin fic #jake seresin x reader #top gun maverick #hangman #mine #drabble #hangman drabble #f:bhdrabbles #hangman smut #top gun smut

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Betrayal Never Felt So Good (König/Fem!Reader) Chapter 2

You can find Chapter 1 here, Chapter 3 here, Chapter 4 here, Chapter 5 here, and Chapter 6 here!

Word count: ~6.5k

Rating: Mature

A/N: Use of Y/N and Y/L/N. Appearance of a feral and jealous Possesive!König. We get plot but no smut in this one, with some angst, feelings, murder, and comfort on top! Reader really just needs a hug right now. Reader is also morally grey and morally questionable. Continued COD and military inaccuracies galore. Don’t shoot me for not writing out any combat scenes please - I’m a smut/fluff/angst author, action is outside of my wheelhouse lol. Once again written in less than 24 hours so please forgive any mistakes!

TW: Non-consensual drugging, emotional manipulation, body shaming, and attempted assault from asshole #2. Cold-blooded murder (but done for “good” reasons so it’s fine right?). Canon violence toward others by König, hints at stalking, hurt/comfort. Pet names (in English and German), bad German translations bc I’m still a lame monolingual American, and STILL no beta because we die like jackass Graves.

Crappy Translations:

Ungeziefer - Vermin

Maus - Mouse

Mein schatz - My darling

Meine leibling - My love

Scheiße - shit

It had been two whole months since your “rescue” from KorTac and not a day had gone by where you didn’t spend it thinking of König. That man plagued your mind worse than anyone ever had before. Which was stupid, considering you knew next to nothing about him, except that he treated you like a princess and fucked you like a whore. Oh and that he was the colonel of a “technically” enemy faction and your relationship would be seen as treason. And yet, he was the first man you’d had any sort of connection to in years. The only one who seemed to know everything you needed and wanted by intuition alone, and you craved the opportunity to explore that connection further. 

You tried to think of some way to reach out to him but there was never a plausible avenue. You didn’t know his real name so finding him online, if he even had an online presence, would be impossible. You couldn’t very well ask Graves if he had any information on him either, lest you get fired, or worse, murdered, seeing as the Commander did not have a reputation for being understanding.

 As the hamster wheel in your brain spun round and round, your thoughts grew more desperate and unhinged. It wasn’t too much longer before your contract with Shadow Company was up anyway. You were heavily considering seeing if KorTac would take you after, which you felt crazy about, but you weren’t sure what else to do. Logic just didn’t seem to play well with your thoughts about König and it was driving you insane to not be in control of yourself.

You could only turn off your constant barrage of emotion when you were knee-deep in patients or allowed out onto the field to provide care; though even that had been happening less. “Don’t want to chance triggering a PTSD episode”, Graves had said. And yet, despite thinking it couldn’t get worse, life had decided to throw you another curveball. It came when you were given your first mission in weeks, being called across countries with a small team of specialists to Russia to protect a diplomat and his family while they were in the country. That wasn’t the bad part though. Oh no. You could handle travel and a safe mission for once. The part that tied your stomach into knots was the fact you were going to be serving along with KorTac. It took everything in you not to show the emotions you felt in the moment Graves had told you that, while the last time you’d seen the KorTac colonel flashing through your thoughts like a movie. 

-

The shouting in the quiet bunker was your first sign something was wrong. At first, you tried to ignore it, snuggling closer into the big human-shaped heater against you but then there was a gunshot, and that got you both up. Instinctively, you knew what was happening before even stepping foot out of the room. 

“They’re here, aren’t they?” you whispered.

An overwhelming sense of panic filled your chest as you clasped his hands tight, unsure of what you were supposed to do.

“Stay here,” he instructed you as he quickly crossed the room to his dresser, gearing up in a hurry. 

“What? No! You can’t go out there! What if they hurt you?!” you snapped back. 

König shot you a bemused look as he tightened his vest. 

“They can try, mein schatz, but they will not succeed.”

While his cockiness was certainly attractive and you knew he could hold his own in fights, there was now a part of you that worried and ached at the thought of him getting hurt. Before he could leave, you caught his wrist and jerked him back to you, smashing your mouth against his. 

“Be safe.”

-

“Y/L/N!”

The pain of being ripped from such a powerful memory was enough to make you stumble, nearly falling into the last man you wanted to see at that moment; Daniel Carter, your “savior” from König and KorTac. It took all the power in your body not to frown at the brunette smugly grinning down at you. 

“Yes, sir?” you finally asked. 

“You gonna get in?” 

He gestured to the plane and you quickly stepped into the cabin, a hot blush coating your face as you walked down the aisle to find a seat near the exit but still far enough to not be at the very end. Your fear of flying wasn’t something you had to face often thankfully but, when you did, it was a tough beast to battle. Fortunately, your mind was easily swayed into other worries when you watched the rest of the teams climb onto the plane. One by one, they found a seat, until the last member boarded, his figure dominating the entire space with his six-foot-eight presence. You couldn’t help but watch as he walked by. Gods, he was even bigger than you remembered. The sway of his hips and spread of his gait as he walked left nothing to the imagination, and you found yourself staring unbearably hard at his thick ass and thighs until he sat down on the other end. 

Fuck, this was going to be harder than you thought. Your heart had felt afloat water in stormy seas ever since the moment you’d seen him waiting with his team this morning. At first, seeing him made you feel like you were finally able to breathe again, but the way he pointedly avoided your presence dragged you back down into the suffocating depths of turmoil. You’d hoped it was just a show for the others around you, but then it became clear that your hopes were for naught. Twice you’d tried to get him alone, practically begged him to talk to you, only to be treated as if you didn’t even exist.  

A tightness that had nothing to do with your fear of flying squeezed at your heart as your eyes dropped to your feet. Doubts began to pile up like a car crash. Maybe you were stupider than you realized. Maybe those nights had meant nothing to him. Maybe you were just another stupid conquest who had the gall to believe someone as high-ranked and enigmatic as König would actually want more than an easy lay. And, fuck, had you made it easy. Some nice words, a few sweet gestures, and a voice that made your brain melt, and you were putty in his hands.

Lips tilting down, you leaned back against the stiff seat and let out a long sigh. Maybe if you hit your head hard enough on the wall you’d break something, or at least get a concussion bad enough to be sent home.

“What’s up, toots?” Daniel asked, tapping his boot against yours.

You managed a half-assed smile and muttered, “Hate flying.” 

He grinned and leaned over just enough to nudge your shoulder with his. It was minimal contact but it was enough to make your stomach hurt. While Daniel seemed nice enough, you’d been privy to too many conversations he and his buddies had when they thought they were alone in the medbay or canteen. While some of the absolutely disgusting things he’d said were enough to make you wary, most of your ire came from him being the one to sneak you out of König’s room. 

“You’re a strong gal, you’ve got this. Just take some deep breaths,” he instructed slowly, “Here, gimme your hand.”

Before you could politely decline, he snagged your hand in his and wrapped your smaller fingers around his palm. 

“Lean back, close your eyes, take deep breaths, and squeeze if you need.”

Just the thought of being that vulnerable in his presence, or really any of the men around you,  made your skin crawl. But honestly, what else did you have to do at this point? It was about an hour flight and your mind wasn’t in a good place. 

Giving him a little nod, you did as instructed and let your head fall back once more. After the first few breaths, you had to admit some of the tension was dying down. 

“There you go. Atta girl.”

Fuck. Your heart lurched against your ribs as his words threw you into a very heated memory that you most certainly didn’t need right then - the way König praised you for taking his cock so well, how his lips brushed your ear as he said such sinfully beautiful words as his hands caressed your skin. Face warming, you tried to clear your head again, only to get disrupted by the sound of heavy feet stopping in front of you. 

“Can I help you with something, sir?” Daniel asked, something akin to fear in his tone. 

Who could he have been afraid of? Most everyone here was on good terms, or so you thought. 

“Is there something that we need to know before we land?” 

König. Jolting upright, you gaped up at him in disbelief as he stood there stiffly, arms crossed across his chest and eyes pinning Daniel down in earnest. God, that shouldn’t have been hot. You were supposed to be hurt, pissed at him, and yet the fire in his eyes as he stared down the other man was nothing more than primal.

“U-Uh, I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Daniel stammered out.

You quickly jerked your hand from his and noticed that finally- FINALLY- those deep blues were focused on you for the first time all day. 

“We cannot afford to have any distractions out there. I will ask again, is there something that we need to prepare for? Will your attention be divided?” König bit out.

It wasn’t painfully obvious but you could hear a slight inflection, almost anger, filtering through his tone. 

“No, sir,” you retorted stiffly, “Private Carter was helping me with my fear of flying.”

“Correct, sir,” Daniel agreed quickly.

König let out a snide hmm before strolling back down the aisle to his seat. It wasn’t until he was fully sat that you relaxed in your seat. 

“What the fuck…This is awkward, right?” Daniel whispered, “I mean, it’s weird for me but I can’t imagine how weird it is for you.” 

Playing dumb, your eyes cut to him curiously and you asked, “What do you mean?” 

He gestured weakly toward König and the rest of his team, and then at you. 

“They quite literally kidnapped you a couple of months ago,” he muttered, “They killed a group of our men and were actively fighting against our mission, and now we’re expected to just get along with them?” 

The guy had a point. Sighing heavily, you shrugged and leaned back. 

“Yeah, it’s weird, but we do what we gotta do, right?” you murmured.

If only he knew the real reason for your discomfort. Eyes flicking up to the bare metal ceiling, you said a silent prayer that once you were on the ground, you wouldn’t have to be in König’s presence anymore. It wouldn’t do to be distracted, and lord knows you would be. 

“Try to rest,” Daniel said suddenly, “I’ll wake you when we land.” 

Any thoughts of arguing were wiped from your mind when the cabin shuddered through turbulence. With a shaky inhale, you closed your eyes and started counting back from one hundred. Even if you didn’t fall asleep, it would help with your endless anxiety.

…

“Alright, you’re good to go. Just try to stay off of it as much as possible until we leave tomorrow. Those painkillers will help the pain but the ligaments still need time to repair,” you sighed with a weak smile.

“Just glad it’s not broken,” he laughed nervously, “It’d suck for my first real injury to be caused by tripping in the dirt rather than by combat,” 

You snickered in agreement at that. That would be one sad story.

“Remember, ice, elevation, and painkillers!” you called as he exited the room with a wave. 

Turning back to your laptop, you started the final charting on the private’s file but it wasn’t long before you were distracted by someone entering the room. Dread filled the pit in your stomach when they didn’t instantly speak. So far you hadn’t seen König more than once or twice in passing this past week and you’d hate to break that streak right before you got to go home. 

“Hey, Y/N, why don’t you head out for the night? I’ve got things covered here!”

Relief practically oozed from your pores as you heard the familiar voice of one of KorTac’s medical staff. Spinning around in the wheely chair, you found the redhead already opening her own laptop at the other desk. 

“You sure?” you asked.

“Of course! You let me sleep in and took the first half of my shift, it’s only fair I let you out early,” she teased kindly. 

Leaving early meant the possibility of running into the silent colonel, but it also meant you could actually enjoy the last night in the city. While it was a smaller area, it apparently had a decent nightlife, or so Daniel said. He’d caught you before your shift and practically begged you to join him and some of the guys out for drinks at the local bar to celebrate a job well done. You’d thought he was going to cry when you told him you worked late and couldn’t join. 

“Girl, go! Shoo! I’ve got this.”

Flashing her a smile, you nodded and gathered up your things. 

“Okay, fine, you win,” you groaned in faux frustration, “I’ll leave you be.” 

She shot you a mock salute and turned dutifully to her laptop, fingers flying across the keyboard as she began to check charts. With one last nod, you grabbed your bag and hurried out into the hall. It was only eight thirty and the guys were going out around nine, so you had just enough time to change into something more sociable. 

The instant you were in your room, you wasted no time digging through your duffle bag until you found a semi-decent outfit. Most of your clothes were for work but you liked to keep a few nicer things on hand for occasions such as this. After pairing a cute black peekaboo sweater with a pair of fitted dark-wash jeans that framed your thick thighs and ass perfectly, you slipped on your only non-work shoes- a pair of black ankle booties. From there, you hastily fixed your hair and put on a quick bit of makeup before rushing out the door. 

It felt weird to admit you were kind of excited to hang out with Daniel and the others tonight. You’d never really been included much in things back home, being medical staff and not one of the “boys”, but ever since being here for the mission, Daniel had made it his primary objective to make sure to check in on you multiple times a day. A strange little friendship was budding and, somehow, you didn’t hate the idea. He’d been nothing less than kind, and now that you weren’t completely hung up on the colonel, you were losing your biggest reason for disliking him. 

“Y/N! Whoa!” 

Daniel’s yelp caught you off guard and you couldn’t stop the blush that formed when you saw the way multiple pairs of eyes raked up and down your form. 

“Damn, you clean up nice, Y/L/N,” another private, Chad you think it was, said from beside Daniel. 

“Uh, thanks,” you replied awkwardly, “So… bar?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Daniel said with a grin, “Hope you don’t mind but we’re walking because it’s only two blocks away!”

Nodding in understanding, you joined the group of five with a little smile, trying your hardest to keep your nerves at bay. It was chilly out. Nothing too horrible, but it made you glad you’d had the foresight to wear something warm since you had to walk in it. 

“Hey, you know, Chad was right,” Daniel said quietly when he dropped to the back of the group with you, “You look incredible. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in anything other than work attire.”

Damn it. It was much easier to hate him when he was acting more creepy and you were under the illusion he’d ruined your love life. Now… Now it was almost too easy to like him.

“Thanks, I appreciate that,” you answered, “You look nice too! Never seen you dressed down either.” 

It wasn’t a lie. Daniel wasn’t a bad-looking guy, maybe a bit plain with short brown hair styled in the regulation cut, nice green eyes, and a big smile, but definitely not bad. It was just that your thoughts were always flittering around the almost seven-foot beast of a man in comparison and no one could compare to that. 

The pink that dusted his cheeks only served to make him cuter and you were nearly groaning in frustration at the thoughts filtering through your mind. No. There was no way you were going to give in to those thoughts. It was just the pain of König ignoring you and the human need for attention making you think that way, you were almost certain. 

“Ah, we’re here!” 

The music from the bar was audible from the outside and it only got worse once you stepped in. He hadn’t been lying when he said there was a thriving nightlife. The small bar was packed to the gills, with just enough room to move around and get to the bar, bathrooms, or dance floor. 

“Come on, I’ll buy you your first drink!” he shouted over the music. 

Aw shit. You knew where that was going to lead. Before you could decline his offer, he snagged your wrist and nearly dragged you to the bar. You were given no choice but to order your favorite drink when he demanded so and the bartender stared you down with a less-than-patient glare. True to his word, he paid for your drink, and then instantly dragged you through the crowd without a word. Daniel led you everywhere like you were some lost puppy who needed direction. From the bar to the table, and then to the dance floor, you weren’t given a single choice in the matter up to the point of him practically pouring your drink down your throat. 

Said action didn’t fly over well, the liquor bitter and stinging down your throat so quickly you had to reflexively cough to avoid aspirating. 

“Jesus, fuck, calm down,” you snapped at him once you caught your breath. 

“I just wanna make sure you can loosen up and have fun,” he replied with an apologetic smile, “I’m sorry. I.. I just don’t want you to fall behind or anything.”

You couldn’t contain your eye-roll as you gave into the puppy dog eyes and made a show of taking another drink. 

“There, happy?” you asked. 

“Definitely, come on, let’s dance!” 

The irritation over his actions was soon forgotten as you gave in to the beat of the music and joined in the writhing bodies on the floor. It didn’t take long to get drawn into the moment, the alcohol and music a powerful combination that brought out the serotonin you didn’t know you needed. Song after song passed and soon enough you found yourself in Daniel’s arms. It was almost nice, to let the stress of the past few months flow away and focus on only the here and now. 

“I didn’t know you could move like this,” Daniel said into your ear as his arms wrapped around your waist.

The graze of his lips across your skin sent shivers down your spine and you instinctively arched into his touch as his hands slid further down your sides. 

“I don’t get the chance to dance much,” you admitted meekly.

“That’s a shame. You’ll have to let me drag you out more often because it’s a damn sexy sight.”

A giggle escaped before you could stop it. Damn it. His flirting wasn’t funny! 

“Mmmhmm, sure,” you retorted cheekily, “You’re like the only one who thinks that.” 

He quickly spun you around, fast enough that the world went wonky and you had to grab onto him for balance, and it sent chills through your body. 

“Whoa, that- oh my,” you gasped. 

“Are you okay, Y/N?” 

There was a look of concern on his face as you felt your knees weaken. Panic sent your heart racing but you couldn’t focus enough to figure out why. Something just felt… wrong. 

“Maybe you’re dehydrated. Why don’t you finish the rest of your drink?” he urged. 

Shaking your head, you managed to mumble out, “Alcohol won’t fix dehydration. It’ll actually make it worse.”

“Well, it’s worth a try, come on.”

When he pushed the cup to your lips again, some semblance of your brain came back online and you pushed instinctively it away. The ugly curve of his downturned lips told a terrifying story. Was he- Was he trying to drug you?! Clenching your eyes shut tight, you tried to sort through your memories and recall the symptoms of being drugged to compare to your current ailments.

“Damn it, just take the fucking drink. I spent ten dollars on this fancy shit,” he grunted lowly. 

Eyes popping open, you caught his furious glare and instantly everything clicked. The reason he was so intent on you coming out tonight, how he handled the drink all the way to the floor, his insistence to drink the alcohol. 

“You- You prick,” you bit out. 

Thankfully, you hadn’t drunk more than those first two gulps. Whatever he’d laced the liquor with likely wasn’t at its full potential, and yet you were still feeling the effects. Just what the fuck had he given you?

“Y/N, what are you-”

With all your strength, you pushed him and luckily managed to catch him off guard, sending him flying back into the group behind him. You didn’t wait to see if he got back to his feet before you took the chance to escape. It was like a psychedelic maze, trying to escape the packed dance floor with your heart racing and your eyes swimming. Eventually, you made it out, and you instantly left the bar. 

The cold night air tore a gasp from your lungs when it hit your skin but it was more than welcomed. Your body felt like it was on fire, sweat rolling down your back and forehead as if you’d just been vigorously working out. The chill helped to clear your thoughts some. 

“Okay, I can do this, it’s just two blocks,” you murmured to yourself. 

For a minute, you considered calling for help from one of your squadmates, but your gut cautioned you otherwise. These soldiers were close, dangerously close. There was a good chance they’d just help him cover it up if you tried. A weak sigh left your lips as tears flooded your gaze. You wished you would have just stayed at work. You wished you hadn’t gone against your initial judgment of that asshole. You wish you were home, safe and sound in bed. Most of all, you wished you could call König to come save you. How ironic that you were looking to the man Daniel had “rescued” you from to come rescue you from him now. 

“Where do you think you’re going, bitch?!” 

A big hand snagged your wrist and pulled you to a stop so suddenly that your shoulder popped audibly, pain shooting through the joint as you collapsed back against him. 

“Daniel, please- I-”

“Uh-uh, nope. You’re not talking me out of this,” he hissed.

Despite using your entire weight to pull against him, he was able to drag you down a nearby dark alley with ease. Pain exploded through the back of your skull when he slammed you into the brick wall with a grunt and you nearly collapsed.

“Fuck!” you yelped, hand instinctively touching the throbbing spot to check for blood.

“You don’t fucking get it, do you? I was the one who located their base. I was the one who led the team in and took out as many of those dumb fucks as possible. I was the one to save your miserable ass, and what did I get for it? Nothing more than a fucking “thanks” and a shitty attitude. I waited for you to come around but you never fucking did,” he snarled, palm slapping the brick beside your face with a grunt, “When Graves suggested we bring medics along, I knew it would be my best chance of getting you alone. You’re such a stuck-up whore at home that you don’t ever go out with us. But here, I knew I could convince you. All it took was some kindness for your fat ass to fold. Can’t reckon you get much attention, so I’m not that surprised.” 

Disgust and shame reared its ugly head in your chest as you let your eyes drop from the angry vision of his face. Instead, you stared intently at the pocket of his white polo. 

“Now, you’re going to do what you should have done long ago, and you’re going to thank me for saving you. Get on your fucking knees and if you even think of using teeth I’ll put a round in your head so fast that-”

You stopped, mid-decent to the concrete when Daniel went flying. As he slammed into the ground, a hulking shadow followed him in earnest. It took your brain some time to figure out what was happening, but then you heard a familiar voice snarling in German. Slowly, the details of his form solidified in your gaze, and you sagged in relief. 

“Pray to your god while you’ve got the chance, ungeziefer!” König barked loudly.

A pained screech filled the air and made your stomach twist. 

“ König?!” Daniel groaned, “What the-? Why?!”

“You’re quite simple, aren’t you?” König snapped back with a humorless laugh, “Take one guess.”  

You watched the way Daniel’s head popped up, a look of disbelief clear in his eyes as he stared up at the giant before turning to you. Even through the lingering haze of the drugs, you could clearly make out the terror on his face and a sick part of you felt thrilled that he was experiencing even a modicum of the fear he’d pushed onto you. 

“I- I didn’t know,” he panted through frantic gasps, “I wouldn’t have-!” 

Daniel’s weak croak was silenced by a brutal kick to the face. The crunch of bone and cartilage sent chills down your spine and you couldn’t but absentmindedly think about how badly that would heal… if he even made it out of there. 

König rolled him over with a boot to the gut and crouched down above him, his voice just barely loud enough for you to hear. 

“Even if she wasn’t mine, you don’t get to touch her in that way. Unfortunately for you, she is mine. You’re just lucky I don’t have the time to drag this out. The things I would do to you…”

His words lit a fire in your stomach, misplaced lust and satisfaction filling your chest despite the gruesome scene before you. There was a rapid-fire battle going on in your mind, between the lawful good instinct to stop König and the chaotic righteousness to let him beat the hell out of Daniel. It wasn’t until the glint of a blade pierced through the dark, reflecting the weak fluorescent light behind them, that reality finally set in. This wasn’t going to be a fight. This was going to be a slaughter. König was going to kill someone over you!

“No, don’t! König, wait!” 

Your pleas fell on deaf ears. Before you could even blink, he was knelt on Daniel’s back, jerking the smaller man’s head up by the hair only to sink the knife into his ribs repeatedly, ending it with a vicious slash across his throat. It was awful and astonishing. A man of his size shouldn’t be that quick. While you’d seen him take out five of your team alone, that was with a gun. This was different. This was personal. 

Licking your dry lips, you watched with wide eyes as König got up from his position and turned your way. Something between fear and excitement quickened your breaths as he stalked your way, slowly, wiping the blood from his blade before shoving it back into his pocket

“You shouldn’t have done that,” you murmured. 

“And let him live after knowing what he was going to do to you? I think not,” he growled back lowly.

The instant you were within reach, a hand was around your throat, gentle but commanding as he pulled you into him. 

“He’s lucky I didn’t make him clean his guts up off the floor,” he hissed.

“Oh.”

Before you could react, he crouched and lifted you up onto his waist. Brick bit into your back through your sweater as he pinned you against it, making you gasp as his mouth devoured yours. 

“Mine,” he growled fervently. 

His hips ground roughly into the apex of your thighs and stole your breath as a wave of pleasure scorched through your belly. Holy fuck, he was already rock-hard. A pathetic whimper escaped your mouth into him when his teeth bit into your lip hard and you couldn’t resist scraping your nails along the nape of his neck. 

 “Nobody gets to touch you except me, got it?”

Your eyes rolled back at the rasp in his voice, the thinly veiled need peeking through in a taunt.

“Yeah, but… Hey! König, wait, please!”

A little growl emanated through his chest as you pushed on him, but he easily relented, drawing away to catch your flustered gaze with half-lidded eyes. 

“What is it, maus?” he asked.

“We can’t just- What- How the fuck are we gonna explain this?” you retorted, panic slowly filtering through your lust-hazed mind, “My god. You’re gonna get in trouble! I can’t- I can’t let you get hurt for protecting me! We have to do something! Maybe we can-”

Your rambling was quickly silenced with a hand over your mouth, the weight of his body leaning more into you, providing a sense of comfort almost like a weighted blanket. 

“Calm down, meine leibling,” he shushed warmly, “Take a deep breath and relax. Everything is going to be fine, I promise you.” 

Tears blurred your vision as you looked from him to Daniel and back to him, only to find his eyes hungrily tracing your form. Even in the current situation, you couldn’t deny the heat it caused. And then it was gone, the furrow of his brow conveying that anger once more when he released your mouth. 

“What did you think you were doing anyway, coming here with him?”

You couldn’t help but recoil, grimacing as your head hit the wall in the same tender spot, until he forced your face up by your chin. There was so much fury residing in his gaze that your heart squirmed in pain. It hurt worse than anything to see that judgment and anger directed at you. Was he really going to blame you?

“Maus, I said, what did you think you were-”

“Well, I sure as fuck didn’t think I was coming out to get raped!” you spat back finally, unbidden tears spilling down your cheeks, “I thought- I thought I was- was with friends. I-I didn’t think-”

When he pulled you into his chest, the damn broke fully. Sobs poured from your shaking form as you wrapped yourself around him and breathed him in. You cried over the betrayal from your teammate. You cried at how close you came to being assaulted by another horrible person, the fact that König had saved you twice now. You cried over how much you’d missed him, over how happy you were to hear he still had some kind of emotion for you; no matter how demented it might be. 

“I had a bad feeling about him,” he bit out after a moment, “When I saw you leave with them, I just knew. I’m sorry it took so long to get out here to you, schatz. If I had been quicker-”

You shook your head frantically and whimpered, “You were just in time.” 

He hummed quietly, hand cradling the nape of your neck as he murmured little soothing words against your hair. You don’t know how long you stood there like that but eventually, your limbs started to ache from the position. When you pulled away from him, he put you down gently but didn’t let you retreat fully, hands cupping your face tenderly while he wiped away your tears. 

“I don’t enjoy seeing you cry like this,” he sighed. 

Something about that triggered that subdued anger in the back of your mind, waking the beast from slumber. Anger was easier to handle than sadness. How dare he stand here and comfort you, hold you like this, when hours ago he couldn’t even look you in the eye! 

Nose wrinkling in frustration, you stepped back and wrapped your arms around yourself as the lack of his warmth hit hard. The hurt that passed through his eyes nearly made you collapse back into his arms but you knew you couldn’t- not yet, not until you had answers. 

“Why?” you finally asked.

“Why, wha-”

“Why did you act like I didn’t exist? I spent the last two months driving myself fucking crazy, pining over you and what could have been, only to get treated like I was nothing more than dirt on your boot the next time I saw you!”

He tried to talk but you cut him off swiftly. No way were you done with him. Shoving a finger into his oh-so-glorious pec, you stepped closer with all the rage you could muster in your glare. In another light, it probably would have been hilarious to see someone of your short stature intimidating the giant man.

“If I was just some fucking notch in your bedpost, you could have said that! You didn’t have to act like there was something more. You have to know how hot you are. I would have fucked you even without you tricking me like that. But no, you had to make me feel special, make it feel like there was more than just my body on the line, and then you have the nerve to get mad at me for seeking out platonic companionship in my teammates?! You dare claim that I’m yours?! No, no, you don’t get to do that!”

The instant your rant ended, one hand cupped the back of your head and the other shoved you back against the wall, the impact cushioned by his hand before he boxed you in on either side. And fuck, you shouldn’t have found that hot but god it was. The way he instinctively protected you, acted like he cared, towered over you in a way that just screamed dominance and power.

“Don’t you dare say those things. There hasn’t been one moment that I haven’t thought about you, that I wasn’t looking out for you from afar, mein schatz,” he said sternly.

“Then why-”

“Because I couldn’t risk anyone figuring out what had happened between us!” he snapped with a huff, “If anyone knew you had stayed with me willingly, your life would be in danger, and I knew if I spoke to you, I would break. How could I not? I’m only so strong, meine liebe. Did you really think it was easy for me to do that? That I didn’t want to scoop you up in my arms the moment you walked through that door? That it didn’t break my heart when I watched the hope leave your eyes?! I hated myself every- single- second.” 

Swallowing hard, you couldn’t force out any kind of answer. Distrust held your heart in a stronghold but his words were slowly chipping it away, the passion in his voice worming its way under your skin. 

“It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do. You don’t even understand. Scheiße, I put so much time and effort into finally meeting you, and then somehow… somehow, I lucked out. I  got a taste of what I’d wanted for so long,” he paused, thumb gently stroking that sweet spot below your ear as his eyes searched your face, “And it was more than I could have ever hoped for, only to have you ripped away at the last moment.”

His words settled heavily around you and, as their significance soaked into your brain, you could only stare at him in confusion. He… had known of you before you met? You knew they’d gathered intel on your team before the attack, but… he'd seen enough to want to see you?

“What do you mean?” you asked softly. 

His silence was loud, louder than you could handle and the guilt in his eyes sent a shiver up your spine.

“König,” you urged, “What- What do you mean?” 

German spewed suddenly from his lips, angry and frantic as he began to pace in place, and it only served to make that anxiety nestle deeper in your belly.  

“Damn it! Talk to me!” you cried. 

When he spun around, you tripped over yourself in shock trying to back away from the fury in his glare. Fortunately, or possibly unfortunately, he caught you before you could actually fall, but he didn’t let you go even once you were balanced.

“There’s no way to make this sound good,” he breathed quietly. 

Eyebrows shooting up in disbelief, you retorted, “Yeah, well, it can’t be worse than leaving me guessing at all the horrible things you could mean!” 

“I need you to promise me you won’t run, that you’ll let me explain.” 

While you wanted to hear him out, you weren’t sure how well you would handle whatever it was. There was also the issue of your dead teammate less than five meters away. Everything in your heart and mind was torn into a million little pieces of focus and it was all too much. You had to pick one problem at a time to deal with.  

Looking over at Daniel’s still form, you pressed your lips into a thin line. 

“What the hell do we do about him?” you asked. 

You weren’t lying earlier when you said you were worried for König. He had a lot of power, but straight up murdering one of Graves’ men out of battle and, even worse while allied, was beyond reason. That was a death sentence. 

König froze up, almost as if he’d forgotten about the whole reason you were there, and let out a heavy sigh. 

“I’ll call it in and have Horangi take care of it,” he muttered, “For now, come back to my room with me. Everyone should be out right now.” 

Why did that sound so inviting, so perfect? Fantasies of being able to touch him again, cuddle with him once more, plagued your thoughts until the weight of his admission came crashing back down. You couldn’t help but stare at him as his words reverberated in your head. It was clearer than ever that you knew nothing about this man, and yet you couldn't stop the way your heart fluttered when he slipped his fingers between yours, nor the way you felt content in following him out of the alley. Despite it all, under the fear and the uncertainty, that fatal attraction to him was still burning strong. When he wrapped his arm around you and slipped you under his jacket to protect you against the blustering winds, it felt too much like home. 

Just what the fuck were you supposed to do now?

#könig #könig x reader #könig cod #cod fanfic #könig fanfiction

[taylortruther]

not to be too parasocial but...the denial playlist is giving very much 'it is nothing now, but it was everything then'.

sure, maybe taylor is beyond the point of acceptance and obviously has moved on from that part of her life, but she definitely had to revisit it repeatedly whilst making this album and the playlists. thats the thing, when you reopen a wound after a long time, you have a better understanding of it. but it still hurts.

ig that's pretty much it ; taylor realises she was screwed over, wasted a lot of time etc. let's say she's even angry about it. she categorises those phases of her life based on how she feels bout them NOW rather than how she did then.

she has healed ; she's indifferent at best and disgruntled about letting herself be wronged at worst. that utter lack of positive feelings about that time in her life compels her to overlook the positive aspects of those songs.

its always been "all's well that ends well" for her, and that one didn't end well at all. so, she applies the opposite logic on it - it must have always been bad.

memories of intense periods in our life often tend to decieve us and twist the true version of events - omitting important info and planting fake ones. it might make us think that everything was black and white, either complete bliss or pure agony. but it was neither, and that's why those songs were conceived in the first place. that's why she struggled so hard to salvage the relationship. that's why it hurts.

"i can't make it go away by making you a villain" but our brains tend to subconsciously dilute the details of such moments, sparing us the heartbreak or atleast make it easier to digest.

taylor feels right now that those songs were written in moments of delusion and perhaps she's right, but what's more likely is that it WAS good once upon a time. she just wants to forget it, and that's okay. it's her songs at the end of the day.

its always been "all's well that ends well" for her, and that one didn't end well at all. so, she applies the opposite logic on it - it must have always been bad.

with respect, anon, this feels like too big of a big conclusion to jump to. we haven't heard the album, we don't know the full story, and she's probably going to be processing it/her feelings about it for a long time. (or maybe she won't!) they could change tomorrow, next year, 10 years from now.

idk how to articulate why this is rubbing me the wrong way, sorry. this is giving when joever first happened and my feelings were getting hurt the way people talked about relationships and breakups and the shaming and the "she should've KNOWN" of it all.

[wuffgang-ameowdeus-moozart]

Oh no I am an anxious wreck once again. What now?

Here are a few tipps and tricks that help me personally to deal with anxiety (plus some I know work for others). Please feel free to add your own coping mechanisms in the notes!!!! Even though I technically know means to calm myself down, I always forget everything when I'm in the thick of it, so while this is mainly a reminder for myself I hope this list can help at least one other person as well :)

First of all: emotions are hard, and they are overwhelming, and shaming yourself will not make it better. Chances are it will make everything worse, actually. So don't you dare feel bad for needing help even with the "easy" stuff, or for not being able to endure as much as your peers, or even for half-assing stuff sometimes. It's fine. Like, for real. I promise it's okay. You don't need to always be at your best. You don't even need to be at your best most of the time.

What helps me personally is imagining that these struggles are affecting another person close to me. If my best friend were to call me because she needs help answering an E-Mail, or even to cancel last minute because she feels too overwhelmed to leave her house right now, I would never make her feel like crap because of it or talk about her behind her back or anything else your brain may be trying to convince you of. I know that she is at least as good a person as me (probably better tbh), so if I wouldn't do any of that, she certainly would never. In fact, believing these thoughts is actually a disservice to her, who did nothing to deserve these mean remarks (quite the opposite actually). Basically, try to twist and out-logic your own brain into being less of a cunt to you. Try guilt-tripping yourself into being kinder. The bad emotions are there anyways, might as well use them to your advantage. I can speak from experience that being anxious is a bit less unbearable if you aren't being a self-obsessed asshole on top of everything else

JUST FUCKING DO IT

If the source of your anxiety isn't a particular task you have been procrastinating on, or is something you can't just do whenever (f. ex. a job interview that's two days away), feel free to skip this part ^^

If you are still here: I know it can feel like actual hell to just do the thing. If you immediately want to click away after seeing this title I don't blame you. I mean, I am currently writing a huge ass post about anxiety instead of answering the two (2) E-Mails literally making my hands tremble. But the truth is, doing the thing is actually never as bad as it seems. Here's some stuff that maybe can help:

-> Remember that it's never been the end of the world before, so surely it won't start being it now. If you've already been through a similar situation: remember that it isn't the first time you've felt this way; remember that doing the thing wasn't as bad as you'd feared and, most importantly; remember how you felt after doing it. If this is the first time you feel like that, I'm sorry. I promise you aren't stupid for "overreacting", and I promise it will feel at least a little bit better if you just get it over with. And when you've managed the first time, you can now use that as an example instead of taking some stranger on the internet on his word. Worst comes to worst, you can still anon hate me (jk please don't)

-> Rewarding yourself. Remember that putting yourself down tends to make things worse. Allow yourself to be proud for your achievements, yes even the small ones that most people barely even think about. Because sometimes shit is just hard, but you still did it, and that's fucking awesome !!! For me personally just the knowledge that my anxiety will lessen (and I will probably get some good sleep - emotions are so fucking exhausting) is enough most of the time, but you can also give yourself a little treat afterwards. You've earned it!

-> Hide it in between chill tasks. Like right now, I'm writing this instead of my fucking E-Mail. I am a bit calmer since this is distracting myself from the daunting task of typing a few words. So I am now going to open my mails on another tab, type this shit, and send it. And I know that when I did that I will feel better about myself. And even if I fuck up somehow (how you ask? i don't fucking know), I will immediately have this task to come back to so I don't have the chance to overthink it. I FUCKING DID IT I AM THE CHAMPION OF THE WORLD

-> If you have a bunch of stuff you swore yourself you would do (a bunch can also mean like 2 btw) starting can seem even more daunting (even if it is, as aforementioned, "only" two). So I am very happy to present written lists my absolute beloved. In my experience, stuff is a lot less overwhelming if it isn't only living inside your head. You get a feeling of accomplishment when you can cross something off your list. You don't have to keep panicking about forgetting something (since everything is already written down on your list.) You can even break down bigger tasks into smaller more manegeable ones (f. ex. instead of "clean your room" -> "1. do your bed; 2. fold your clothes; 3. etc etc".) It's great because even if you don't manage the entire big task you still feel less like a failure since you've got proof of all the small accomplishments you did manage. Plus it's easier to continue on another day since you know exactly what you have to do and have proof of everything you already managed as a motivator.

-> Accept help. Be on the phone with a friend while doing the thing (if possible, of course). Ask your friends to be your hypeman before and after doing the thing. Get reassurance from other people. Go to your friend's house to ask them to read your E-Mails, summarize them verbally, and then type an appropriate answer for you (can you already tell me and electronic mail aren't in the best of terms?) Making things harder on yourself on purpose isn't being strong it's being stupid

-> already mentioned it a bunch of times, I know, but the thing that really helps for me is comparing with past experiences. I know I will feel better after I do it because that's always what happens when my brain blows things out of proportion. I know I can do this because I did even scarier stuff and it went well. Or even: if I manage to do this seemingly super scary thing, I will be able to use it as a motivator for smaller stuff in the future. I mean, what even is a fucking E-Mail in comparison to going to a social event on your own ??! (seriously, do it. in my experience it's surprisingly easy to find friends if you look pathetic enough, plus a lot of things seem a bit less paralyzing in comparison)

-> I turn it into a competition, or a game. If I do the thing I win. If I don't do the thing the anxiety wins. And I refuse to let that happen because I'm competitive AND a sore loser <3 so I do the thing. and then I feel a bit better

JUST DON'T THINK ABOUT IT. THINKING IS THE ANTITHESIS OF DOING. (which you can also use to your advantage, à la better to think about that unhealthy coping mechanism and why you shouldn't do it than to stop thinking about it and actually doing it instead. But that isn't the point right now)

DISTRACTIONS

Sometimes there just isn't anything you can do. Sometimes all you can do is wait. Sometimes you don't even know why the fuck you're feeling like that. And that fucking sucks.

I know there are some people who need an absence of stimuli in order to calm down. (If that's you, please leave some of your own pointers in the notes! I don't really have any ideas for that one tbh)

For me, the opposite is the case. I can't count the times my mom has told me to "try meditating!" or "don't do more than one thing at the same time it'll only stress you out even more!", unaware that giving my thoughts free reign would make everything so much worse.

I need to overwhelm myself in order to be able to forget about my anxiety for a while. Sometimes doing a task I've been dreading is easier after distracting myself for a few hours (being anxious is very tiring so if you let it run its course in the back of your mind for a while you'll have less energy for it later ^^). Here's some stuff that could help (though it should be noted that a) not everything will work on everyone and b) sometimes it just doesn't work. even if it worked the last five times. Don't ask me why it is what it is):

-> Do something (really anything) while listening to a video essay/podcast/audiobook. That's my go-to classic. Feel your mind slipping away from whatever you're doing? Force yourself to really listen to what is being said. Sometimes it helps to mouth the words along to my audio of choice (while still doing your thing at the same time!!) Speed it up (I've usually got my stuff at 1.75x or 2x). Assume that pretty much everything listed below can be done while having this as a second layer of distraction

-> Learn something new. I was literally just teaching myself the tabs for Every Breath You Take by The Police and 26 by Paramore on the guitar before starting this. I tried learning finnish and irish for a while there (learning vocabulary, trying to translate sth, learning grammar, etc.). Sometimes it can take a bit of time to get into it, but once you're there it's easy to lose yourself in it (in my experience at least.) And you can always start another video essay in the background!

-> Baking. I usually do half or fourth the recipe to a.) waste less ingredients; b.) have less stuff to eat so you can go bake more stuff sooner; and c.) feel less bad if it doesn't turn out how you hoped. Plus you can also make yourself more likeable by giving some to your neighbours ;)

-> Comfort book/series/movie/etc. I'll be honest, this one almost never works for me, but I know that for some people it does so on the list it goes

-> Take a walk. Touch some grass. Go outside. Personally have very mixed feelings towards this one. Used to do it all the time during lockdown (walking nowhere for literal hours while listening to music), but when it doesn't help it makes things much much worse (in my experience) So maybe be a bit careful? If you want to get away from your thoughts this is...bad. But otherwise (like if you just have the feeling of anxiety without a specific reason) it's worth a try

-> Do maths. I'm serious. For a while there I couldn't sleep, so I'd go on the net, search for equasion exercises, and just go wild. Don't look at the answer: this isn't the point. It's something with a fixed procedure and no consequences if you mess up (you won't even know if you mess up). Maybe instead of equations you find long division more relaxing. Just try not to think of school, put the pressure away, and give it a go.

-> Go to your comfort place. This is also a bit of a tricky one. First of all, not everyone has one of those. Or maybe you can't really go there (like, I always calm down when I'm at the beach. I adore the ocean. But I don't have sea anywhere near me, so sucks to be me i guess). But if you do have a place near you it's worth a try. Sometimes after a particular stressful therapy session i just...go chill at the library for a while. It helps :)

-> Blorbo scrolling. I personally prefer looking at a bunch of art and comics (visual stuff) since i don't really have the concentration to read when I'm anxious, but see what works best for you <3

-> Menial tasks. I love them. Sorting stuff that actually doesn't really matter (like taking all your books from your shelves and trying a new way to organize them). The already mentioned maths exercises. Washing the dishes/putting them back in their place (you can combine that one with the baking hehe). Volunteering work can also be pretty helpful: they often need help with menial tasks plus you can feel good about yourself for helping. Recently started helping at my local animal shelter and it's actually pretty great !

-> Sports. I personally hate sports and always feel worse afterwards, but so many people talk about it that it must be of help to someone out there. What I used to do when I got suddenly overrun by emotions is taking my skipping rope and jumping as fast as I physically could til I felt a bit better (and sweaty ew)

-> Sometimes I like starting a small project; depending on the mood either with no pressure to finish (or intention to show anyone ever because eww), or posting it in hope for praise that'll make me feel a bit better about myself heh. Just something else I can focus on. (ex. g. I've got a meeting I'm nervous about tomorrow so I started writing this huge-ass post) Just remember: IT DOESN'T HAVE TO BE GOOD!! JUST CREATE! I PROMISE BEING CREATIVE AND/OR DOING STUFF IS AWESOME!! (or if nothing else at least frustrating enough to overshadow the anxiety lol)

-> In the wise words of mother mother: Dance and cry, and cry and dance and cry. (And sing. And scream. Or get out that skipping rope. Just let it out my dude.)

-> Watch a show in a foreign language faster (like 2x speed) and with subtitles (less time to read, more required focus, less brain power to panic)

-> immersive reading (audio + text); especially effective if you do it in a language you are currently learning or one that is similar (but not the same!) to your native tongue (f. ex. portuguese and spanish)

-> Try sleeping. Doesn't always work, but at least it wastes time.

I THINK I'M ABOUT TO HAVE A PANIC/ANXIETY ATTACK

-> Strong sudden stimulant. Like smelling a very strong perfume or taking a freezing shower.

-> Just. Let it wash over you. It sucks, yes, but it'll be over. Try keeping calm. I know, easy to say when you yourself aren't currently going through it, but anxiety about a future attack will not, in fact, make things less worse. Once again, remembering past attacks can help as well? It didn't kill you then, it won't kill you now. (My therapist suggested using a mental image, like huge waves or something. I personally don't do that but maybe it'll help)

-> Cover your ears and listen to your heart. Key point: this is NOT aiming to drown out noise, but to ground yourself by listening to your own body (bloodstream and creaking bones etc) (ty anon <3)

-> I'm not sure whether this'll work with panic attacks as well (according to google one of the key differences is that these don't really have a trigger and just....happen) and it probably won't be viable in every situation. But just. Be enough of a spiteful little shit to turn your breakdown into a powermove. (The distressing emotions are there anyways might as well make use of them). You told your teacher you get extreme anxiety when you have to speak in public and they ignored you because the school system actually hates kids? Look them right in the eyes as you start hysterically sobbing so they feel really bad, maybe be extra subdued the next few lessons. As far as you know it'll get you a few pity points that'll make a difference in your overall grade! (Pretty sure I got a better grade in my arts finals than i deserved) Someone knowingly breaks a boundary you set because "oh you've been doing so well" and "it's an irrational fear so it isn't real anyways" or whatever they tell themselves to justify it? This is your chance to make them really see how what they did is wrong (and hopefully will make them think twice before pulling shit like that again). If you warned them, they are literally asking for it. And it'll seem that much more impressive when you are having a good day for once and manage to get through it without one (you've earned that extra credit). Maybe I'm just a bit of a vindictive person, but reframing the narrative like that in my head gives me some semblance of control, which makes it all a bit less scary.

IT DIDN'T FIT ANYWHERE ELSE BUT IS STILL IMPORTAT

This is mostly me reminding myself that it's fine tbh. Because it is.

-> Remember that you can just do shit. I don't know how else to say this, but sometimes my anxiety makes it feel like hiding away in my room is my only option. But that's not true! There is so much stuff you can do, I'm always in awe for a while when I get this through my thick skull once again. Like, you can just go to places. You can just write to your friends. You can just start a chat with that cool mutual you're too nervous to directly interact with. You can move. You can change jobs. You can redecorate your house. You can get into a random train and only get out at the last station, wherever that may be. YOU CAN JUST DO SHIT?!?!?! ISN'T THAT FUCKING AWESOME?!!!!!!!!

-> Extreme emotions can have unpleasant physical side effects. Sweating. Body odor. No appetite and/or extreme hunger cravings (sometimes at the same time??). Diarrhea. It sucks (especially when it continues on for multiple days and your oh so kind peers make sure to constantly remind you of those physical symptoms you are already overly aware of). But it's normal and it's fine. It doesn't make you gross, I promise.

-> THIS TOO SHALL PASS (that's it. Sometimes it's good to remind yourself. This too shall pass.)

-> Sometimes I just do small harmless shit to prove my anxious lizard brain wrong. Randomly say hi on that group chat you haven't entered for months. Create something you aren't really happy with and post it anyways, just cuz you can. Go do something on your own. The more you prove your fears wrong with little things like that, the easier it gets (especially if you have to do bigger scary stuff). Spite can be your best friend. (Plus easy way to gain more points in my mental competition hehehe)

-> Sometimes, despite your best efforts, you will fuck up. You will barely be able to say a word in the social event you forced yourself to go in order to meet cool people. You will be so obviously anxious at your friend's birthday that she will still remember that over a year later (despite your best efforts to hide it at the time). You will get an anxiety attack because of something you thought you had already gotten over months ago. And it sucks, but more importantly, it's fine. This too shall pass. This is another reason why the previous point is so important: it's harder to hold these incidents over your head if you have so many other experiences where you managed to prove yourself.

-> YOU get to decide when you want to try confronting a fear. Nobody else can do that for you, no matter how often they mention "exposure therapy" and shit (it's about the control once again. in my experience it's important for it to be your choice). Occasionally hiding away doesn't make you a failure. There are always more chances, it's never too late to start. Already mentioned it a bazillion times, but this shit is exhausting and you are well within your right to stay in your comfort zone and rest.

-> I don't know if it's just a me thing but self reminder to avoid lactose and gluten when overly anxious. (i never do but i am aware of it that should count for something)

-> gender-affirming stuff can help ^^

-> Not viable to everybody, but sometimes I just delete all social media from my phone. You can still go there through browser of course (that's where I'm actually currently writing this) but just not having the icon on the phone can already feel somewhat of a relief (social media in this case also including messaging apps like discord or WhatsApp or fucking electronic mail my beloathed). That's actually what I am planning to do immediately after posting this thing that came out a bit more personal and stream-of-conscousness than initially planned. You won't even be able to tell cuz I never tag my queues hehehe

-> mentally dunking my stupid anxious lizard brain into salt water rn. Fuck you. I'm posting this. I'm leaving my house tomorrow instead of calling in sick. I'm winning.

#i apologize if there are spelling errors or sentences that dont make sense (my focus is a bit shit rn lol) #once again hope this can help someone? plus always open to more suggestions etc etc #it feels a bit hypocritical to be posting this rn tbh since i am not dealing with my anxiety that well atm tbh #but then i look back to how it was like two years ago and actually i *did* improve even if only a bit so like fuck you too lizard brain #i hope you get to look out of your window and realize that you too have come far <3 #i love being a lil cheeseball hehehehe #anxiety #actually anxious #actually anxiety #uhm idk how else to tag this i guess ill rely on rbgs lol

[mono-mono-beer]

Your Turn To Die - Death Game By Majority - is not a good game.

Now, I might be a simple country boy who doesn't understand things like "words" and "themes" but I can say without a doubt that the countless people who are saying statements like "THE WRITING IN THIS GAME IS AMAZING!" could possibly be mentally handicapped. Let me explain why:

YTTD-DGBM (That's a mouthful) is pretty much if you took the worst parts of Battle Royale, Saw and anime. Then, with that mess combined, you added into Town of Salem/Mafia elements. Oh, also don't forget Ace Attorney. All that in a jumbled mess with only the bland/terrible parts and none of the good. You play as a highschool anime girl who is kidnapped and thrust with a bunch of other extremely anime people into various not possible scenarios where no one acts like a humans

The biggest problem with YTTD-DGBM is the writing. The characters all fall into classic anime tropes and it tries to add suspense or scare to scenarios where is to the point of being so absurd that it defies all logic and therefore makes us not care. Take for example one chapter where our boring anime characters must win various mini-games by defeating ghosts and skeletons with flashlights to win chips - a certain required amount otherwise they are murdered by pipe cleaners draining their blood or being melted/exploded by neck bomb collars. Oh, also, in this game, are various robots/clones who look EXACTLY like humans and have AI memory chips implanted of previous dead contestants an- You know, never mind. It's too long to explain and not worth reading about.

Now you might read that and think "Wow, that sounds insanely dumb." Which, it is. The overall plot is some organization trapped these kids in these absurdly dumb scenarios and is murdering them because... - Oh wait, we never find out because the game is in Early Access and the final chapter isn't out. But, I wouldn't worry too much about it because I believe that whatever the writing staff comes up will be entertainingly awful. My guess? Harvester style theme where it is a crime ring trying to make the main highschool girl the ultimate crime boss/assassin by subjecting her to stupid puzzles and this dumb-ass game that would make the tiny Saw puppet shake his head in shame.

What YTTD-DGBM does right, despite the terrible script, plot holes, and other writing problems is the logic puzzles themselves. Nothing feels "unfair" and there was only one voting session requiring a solution that was insanely stupid, but the majority of the game is good and requires you to use those big brain muscles.

So, all in all? YTTD-DGBM is a bad game and not worth playing unless you can get it on the super cheap, maybe 5$-ish. It's a shame too, because deep down there is an essence of good game there just muddled by terrible writing. /C

#yttd #your turn to die #sara chidouin

[3typical3]

Im in the city you’re from,

And I remember all the things you used to tell me.

“The traffic sucks”

Now I know

“The ice cream by the beach is the best

Now I know where you got it”

“Its always sunny here, you would love the weather”

Now I get it

I still don’t get why you stopped talking to me that January morning, it was cold yet I felt so warm talking to you. We dedicated a season talking. In theory nothing. A night that should’ve ended after a kiss lasted three months. When we reunited, It was as if time hadn’t past. Our jokes were still our jokes. Our memories though few were still ours. I don’t why I’m so still so hung up on you. It was deeper than the kiss we shared. It was getting to know you. Getting a glimpse of what we could be.

It brings a certain shame to know you so intimately. When my friends bring something up about you and I know the answer. To know a joke you would laugh at. To go to send you something but then remembering you won’t even open the message.

It brings a certain shame to post and wonder if you saw it. To know if you saw it. Did you see me repost? Did you see my story? Did you think I looked hot in that last grid post? To a certain extent what I post will always be curated to your eye, wondering the day your gaze will be drawn back to me.

The logical part of my brain knows this is over. The hopeful side of my heart longs for the day you’ll see something that reignites the need to send me something. I want a sign of life. Nay NEED a sign. I need to know we’re ok. I need to know I didn’t lose you. I need to know what lost you. I need to know if you have regret. I need to know if you still want me. If you ever wanted me. I need to know if all the attention pity or because you saw in me what I saw in you.

Part of my heart belongs to you. You weren’t my first love but you were my first what if? And that hurts more. The hope. The hope of you asking me out. The hope of you kissing me again.

You made me feel seen. You made me feel wanted. Now I’m just the girl who’s ‘obsessed’ with you.

Part of me feels a fool. I thought I had a chance. The worst part is I can’t bring myself to hate you. You never put a foot wrong. Even when we reunited. I guess I was your source of entertainment for bit but god was I happy to be it.

Every man who approaches me gets compared to you. Every mans touch is compared to yours. Every man’s lips who touch mine, get compared. I’ll know I found my replacement when I don’t. The terrifying part is I don’t want them to just compare to you. I want them to BE you.

It’s curious, truly, how you’ve buried your way into my heart when I’ve not even nicked yours.

I was just another kiss to you, but to me you were possibility. Now you’re just another reason as to why I believe I cannot be loved.

#thoughts #poetry #essay #love #drunk notes app #notes app #writing exercise #single #miss you #want you #wanted #writing #writer

[hexentanzenigma]

Astarion's Name - Meaning - LOTR Elven languages (Quenya/Sindarin)

WILD ASTARION SPOILERS AHEAD ~Sometimes I use Google Translate~ Sorry for the horrible formatting, I'm still figuring out things!

About 20 years ago, instead of taking the train and going to my university and attending my classes, I hid in the local library in my small town to study Sindarin. It was the time of LOTR movie trilogy. Obviously.

It's a shame that Sindarin is much less complete than Quenya, which at the time had some full books (in Italian) dedicated to the grammar. Sindarin had nothing more than this single text file I was able to find (and even in English there wasn't much more), but the challenge was more compelling because it was wonderful to have to rack my brain to create words that Tolkien had never bothered or had reason/time to invent.

Quenya and Sindarin are and sound completely different.

The nice thing was to discuss whether you offered a good translation or whether there was some other better combination.

Quenya therefore remains Tolkien's most used and abused elven language which, I believe, gave the basis to many other elven languages in other settings such as D&D.

Having made this small and useless premise to say that I know how to navigate Tolkien's elven languages, I get to the point:

assuming and probably not granting that whoever came up with this name in Larian did so by studying Quenya or looking for precise grammatical rules rather than simply coming up with it because the sound was beautiful or deriving it from another name...

let's see the meaning a little, without being too technical.

ASTAR-ION

ASTAR

There are a few things called "astar" in Quenya.

1) the plural of "asta", that is a part of something else, almost always referred to a part of the year, a month. This wouldn't make any sense.

2) faith, loyalty (not belief) In Sindarin it's "astor", with the same meaning, pretty similar.

So "Faith"/"Loyalty" might be the right one.

-ION

About "ion" we must delve a little deeper and see both Quenya and Sindarin.

In Quenya "ion" means "from whom" or "of whom". It's a plural pronoun in genitive of "ye" - "who". We have also yondo, meaning "son" (the origin of this word is far more complex than this, so I'll keep it simple) but in some of Tolkien writings it means also "boy". Later in time, yondo as "son" would be replaced by anon.

This gives to -ion a patronymic use to say "son or descendant of". Like Russian ones (example: Boris Ivanovich, Boris son of Ivan) or Icelandic ones (Hallur Einarsson - Hallur son of Einar).

In Tolkien's works, for example, we have Isildurioni - "son/descendant of Isildur".

In Sindarin instead, "ion(n)" means "son" or "boy" as in Quenya, if used on its own.

But -ion as a suffix of a name, is THE Sindarin patronymic. No other use. The MASCULINE patronymic meaning "son (male child) of".

Gil-Galad is also called Ereinion (Scion of Kings) Inglorion (Son of Inglor)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So we could translate Astarion as the most simple meaning of the name, “Astarion - Son of the Faith”.

It would already be very appropriate.

Astarion, paradoxically, had a lot of faith in his heart. Faith also understood as hope.

The hope of one day freeing himself from Cazador's slavery and regaining his free will.

Faith in himself, not in Gods and heroes, that he prayed so much without anyone answering his prayers or coming to help him.

But what if, considering the two assumptions that now I write below, the meaning was more literal?

Assumption 1 - Astarion's tombstone says he lived only 39 years. Very few for an Elf. I still don't know if the dates are officially correct or something on Larian's part is incorrect, but let's leave it as it is.

Assumption 2 - In D&D 5e, elves appear to age like humans until they reach an "adult" appearance/maturity. Once physically adults, their life expectancy extends enormously and can reach 700-750 years. It's logical in fact that they do not remain vulnerable children for around 200 years, but spend most of their lives as adults.

Their concept of maturity, however, is completely on a voluntary basis: around 100/110 years of age, when an Elf feels ready, they declare that they're mature and take on an adult name, replacing the "child" one.

Between the reach of physical maturity and the social declaration of maturity, elves are considered whimsical, chaotic, prone to indulge in vices and desires, too emotional. They need to study, travel, explore, and accumulate wisdom and nurtore their personal knowledge and culture because this will "calm down" their mind. This is because of their Fey ancestry, their connection to the Feywild.

MY SMALL (CRACK) THEORY

What if “Astarion” was not “son of faith” but “son of Astar”, having not yet declared his independence as an adult Elf and "Astarion" represents his "child name"?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PERSONAL NOTES

Keep in mind that I share this more for fun than because I actually believe it. It's nice material for a few headcanons.

Honestly I don't think Larian put together Astarion's name from Quenya or Sindarin rather than the Elvish language from D&D, since there is one.

Personally I hope that in the future Larian will explain more about Astarion's age, because personally I don't really like the idea of him being under the Elven age of maturity. I would have preferred him at least about 150 years old, excluding the 200 spent as a slave.

It's true that Elves mature like humans, so 40 years are 40 years for everyone, so he IS physically 40 years old, he IS adult, he HAD his own important career. He just wasn't "socially adult" for the Elven culture.

But, speaking about age, would you like to know my take about the dates on Astarion's headstone?

#astarion #baldur's gate astarion #Astarion's name #Astarion name #Astarion meaning #astarion ancunin #astarion analysis #astarion baldurs gate #astarion spawn #astarion spoilers #astarion bg3 #bg3 #baldurs gate astarion #baldur's gate 3 #HexAnalysis

[diffenbachiae]

hi lizzie. do you have any advice for someone who is very much not on their own side

yes!!! for me it was 3 separate pieces all kind of coming together over the course of the past few years. the first 18 years of my life were a long stretch of ‘if i can just make it to adulthood and out of this house it’ll all be okay’ and once i made it i was very quickly realizing that everything was not, in fact, okay. some of this might not be as relevant for you if you aren’t someone with c-ptsd but for me this is what helped!!

1) If everyone else is a person, you have to be a person too. Things that apply to all people must be true for you as well.

that’s where I had to start because that’s where my self-esteem was- it was really hard for me to convince myself that i deserved to eat, let alone that i deserved friendship, love, or affection. i would have myself come up with Rules for All People. all people deserve enough food to fuel their body. all people have inherent worth without needing to prove anything. all people deserve friends who treat them well. this really helped me confront the hypocrisy in my own brain and helped me see how flawed my own perspective of myself is- it’s really hard for me to think of myself as a person automatically and it’s much easier for me to come up with things i think are true for all humans and then logically i Must be part of that group.

2) Nothing will get better unless you try / you have to trust yourself.

dude i wasn’t even trying for such a long time. i think that a big part of this was my obsession with rescue/found family stories as a kid- i expected a safe loving adult to swoop in and save me and teach me how to be a person and obviously that never happened, but i didn’t realize the fantasy persisted. i wanted my friends to let me tearfully confess my childhood and have that magically make it better, i wanted a picture-perfect significant other to scoop me into their arms and erase my childhood… this isn’t to say that talking about your loved ones with your feelings doesn’t improve things, but that mental health recovery has to be an individual journey at the end of the day. you have to want to get better and work at it. part of this for me was working on not lying to myself. i would think ‘it’s okay that i’m laying in bed for 12 straight hours today, i’ll get up and clean tomorrow’ all while knowing full well i wasn’t gonna fuckin do that for a second. it was always tomorrow, next week, next year, things will be different, but then i wouldn’t take any action to make things different. i started to practice telling myself i would do things and following through. this feels really silly to type out bc it sounds so simple but self-discipline was one of the biggest skills i was lacking and teaching myself it has made a HUGE difference. it’s really hard to learn how to make yourself do things you don’t want to do but if you start small and ramp up it’s way easier.

3) You’re allowed to have fun.

everyone in this goddamn world will try and convince you you can’t have fun and it makes it so hard to stay on your own team. shame is a really powerful weapon of control and it’s so easy to start to internalize it until you feel guilty about EVERYTHING. guilt about eating food, what kind of food, if it was too much food… guilt about rest, about oversleeping, about productivity… idk i feel like there’s a million rules to follow about what my life ‘should’ look like and none of them seem quite that focused on the enjoyment of that life. i started to try and practice looking at my choices with less judgement and more focus on enjoyment. sure i can spend five hours on tiktok and then tell myself i’m lazy and terrible because of it but that doesn’t actually do or solve anything- i’m beating myself up because i feel like i should. what’s more useful is to think ‘did i enjoy that time genuinely? do i even remember any of the videos i watched? did i do that because i get joy out of it or because it’s easier than being bored?’ tiktok is my example because it’s the app i most easily fall into using out of habit and not enjoyment, but i also genuinely really enjoy tiktok when i use it in a specific way (crochet inspo, rewatching my favorite covers of songs… instead of just the FYP)

this ended up being really long rip i hope it’s useful to you anon!!!! please keep in mind i’m not a mental health expert of any kind i am just someone who is too poor to afford therapy and has spent countless hours reading books and online resources in an attempt to not feel like a pit of sadness on a day to day basis lol. please feel free to send me more asks or message me if you want to talk more (this goes for anyone reading this as well!!!!!) ✨💖💖

#also the first step is deciding you want to live. which is a whole thing in and of itself. #if you’re still making that commitment please know that i want you here with us!!! #personal tag #this was very cathartic to type out ngl

[acldwash]

Ive been trying to reinforce to my bpd part that we have me and that IS enough, we can give love to ourselves and that is enough, we always will have us and no one can take that from us. But then my bpd is like but what about this *expirences deepest pit of loneliness and makes me feel no warmth but like an empty bottomless pit*

Also logically my brain is also like "yeah but u factually need people cause youre a social animal or else it will affect your mental health even more"

So im like yeah i know these things but also we need to try and learn to navigate this with the understanding and tools we have or we can kill ourselves like? There is only 2 options guys. We fotta try our best or die there really isnt much else we can do. The suffering of not moving at all and just rotting i refuse to go back to and so we have to try or that will happen and that would be death.

My bpd self is like yep lets die thats the best idea but im like no we cant do that we would have lived for nothing but suffering, we need to try, we need to do radical acceptance and embrace starting over no matter how many times it will happen, we need to be okay with the idea that nothing is guaranteed in this world, but we have us to do whats best for us. I think its when we both agree i need to die is when i become intensly seriously suicidal where im making plans for it and am wishing for it and its completely different feeling. Otherwise its just getting triggerd and shame spirals that include impulsive feelings of suicidal ideation where i have moments of intensely wanting to die but having my mood swing up again to a point im like "okay maybe it will be okay"

They are like 5 but also they are massive and angry and destructive when they are like this, like a giant monster throwing a temper tantrum like a 5 year old cause they werent loved then and its only been reinforced to them. its like a war in my head when its like this, and sometimes my voice gets smaller and smaller and theirs gets louder and louder until all i am is them. Who is still me just another part of me thats holds a lot of shit and is emotionally a child

#parts stuff with bpd and cptsd #this is not DID

[hypnosiacon-archived]

man I hate my life very much I've always dreamt of being artist as career since i was a little and now seeing a lot of people defending ai "art" and gaslighting/shaming/mocking artists while ai users getting all the attentions/support and money for pressing a button....i feel something broke inside me and I feel like I'm dead I feel like I wasted my entire life for nothing and I'm forced to work at job I don't like which this will make my depression even worse

Sorry for random rant I don't have anyone to talk about it and I sees ryu as friend (even though we don't know each other)

Honestly, when ai art started at first I was confused, couldn't see the bad in it. I started learning when it became so bad... I now can't really use my native social media, because there are a lot of people who are protecting AI art, and it makes me so fucking disgusted that people are really defending something without listening to artists.

Like I already got into conflict and they decided to give an argument, that "by my logic" even just looking at art is already bad, every fan art is stealing and stealing starts from being inspired by something. If they want o compare it to our brain, mm.... That's how our brain works. It's not stealing parts of every image it has, it creates something on its own BASED on what it has in memory and mind. They are so disgusting.

Not even saying about how they use also photos people upload to them. Nice job, media, you are again not listening to those who have something to say.

Don't worry about random rants, I like them honestly xp

#🌀 put your fangs into my back : ask #🌀 iacon; #anon #anti ai art

[onehomeearth]

When you meet yourself and your painful memories and your fear about the future with wise loving grandma energy, you are generating unconditional acceptance, no pressure to change, no need to defend and the grip of neurogrid lock looses and the brain metaphorically and also logically soften we can literally measure it. Your brain which has been addicted to shame for so many decades finally has the space to learn something new and when you think about like this if you been trapped in shame gridlock for years and years what happens is its like a part of you is on an island and tho you maybe surrounded by people, this part in yourself thinks that no one is around that it's lone in this experience of shame. Then all of a sudden wise loving grandma shows up who is just there to bring warm energy so the person there on island can share your experiences// what you've been experienced and what it's been like to be you // what you want and what thoughts you think that part within you in the island perceives all of a sudden belonging is now available that's the thing that opens up neurogrid lock

People speak about self compassion and self kindness like it's nice thing just about positive self talk. Saying stuff that's nice to yourself */ it's not that it's bringing the energy animals want to be around. Just being that energy opens up the neurogrid lock

Practice asking what instead of why / so in order to understand the imp of what and why */let's take a look at self intellectualisation vs self understanding**one of the most obvious ways shameful self awareness shows up in self intellectualisation and loving self awareness shows up as // self intellectualisation when you are stuck in your head relentlessly developing fear // there is nothing about you that someone could tell you you don't already know and all of the information you gather about yourself isn't helping you change anything and the tone of gathering information is harsh critical that makes you feel bad, it's let you know something in your unconscious sincerely believes it needs to see you as broken In order to survive// so it will interpret you and your world and choose relationship that ensure your continued shame in this experience*/ self understanding is more trapped in your heart, when you understand yourself you are In your body, you understand thoughts buzzing in your mind the tip of the ice berg but the real information is In your body */ your mind and your body processing 11 million hits of info at any given moment your thinking mind however can process 40 bits of all that info the remaining is process by your unconscious and your unconscious is your body /* true self awareness doesn't exist without a subtle yet powerful awareness of what is happening in your body at any given moment ** so why vs what/* we can make this really really simple in order to escape your head get into your body and cultivate deeper level of self understanding/* so why classic indicator of remaining trapped in your head / it's the obsession with the question why asking why generally operates with the energy like I am suffocating I am gasping or air and the one way to get an oxygen is to find the cause of this by asking why// there is a huge problem there is actually an intellectual problem why it presumes we can identify a cause an origin and it's desperately hoping that once we identify that cause or origin we will be safe * the thing is universe is far to complex to have a singular cause for anything ** it doesn't get us anywhere to ask why we are chasing the cause and lot of times people think they found the cause but actually doing is being lazy because that's not a cause there are trillion other pieces of things that have happened and the information that could be considered to be a part of it // why are my parents emotionaly immature --

We don't want why what we want is what we don't a want a hope that ther is cause that we can identify we want to explore all of the effects now one of my fav ideas in the whole world is that your reality determine by the energy you exchange so the word why or what // it's more the word that less matter and more the energy being practiced when the word is used why ** why tends to be accusational desperate complainy or a combination of all them it forces something to have a reason which tends to make that things defensive if you remember neurogrid lock the energy of why nearly gaurantee the grip around your neurons clenching tighter creating the effect of more rigidity less fluidity and adaptibility think about version of yourself who is ashamed, sad, and isolated alone in a island and you are like why are you sad / why you don't feel better this isolates their version even more and they don't want to interact with you. So what we want is the softness of the what so when why thinks it's identfied with the cause it's actually the case that why is a what because we can't identify causes we can only identify effects // so why is rigid ** what on the other hand is wise what knows that the exploration is infinite what is the expression of wise loving grandma energy what is conversation it doesnt desperately cling on to the its going to be safe once the cause is identified what is the wisdom to know such version of safety is fragile because there is no cause to identify what know that the safety we seek doens't exist in finding out information creating outcomes the safety we seek exist in the here and now experience of curiosity what is willing and eager to step into the unknown with delight falling in love with the process of gathering information asking questions purely for the joy of curiosity not Hoping it's gonna find answer it just really wants to ask more questions for eg - what do you dislike / what is the experience you are having / what do you want to be happening / what do you not like about what is happening/ what do you want to better / what is the energy you want to exchange with youself and energy In everything around you/ what is the world you want to create and what Is your plan to create that world / this is a process of infinite curiosity