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revelmaven · 2 years

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i think i've finally succeeded in putting into words something that has been driving me insane recently, and i beg of anyone with insights to jump in on this.

ive recently started going back to therapy, and every fucking time i do this i become convinced that there is no one who can help me. Now, i am a huge advocate for therapy. Go to fucking therapy, if you have the means - bit i'm amending that statement somewhat to include: find the right Kind of therapy for you, because there's more options than just talk therapy.

which informs the bit that's driving me insane, which is:

i feel like my therapist is more interested in eliciting the textbook neurotypical response from me than actually listening to or treating me.

i do not have an official autism diagnosis because where i live they run you around $4k, and they largely refuse to even bother testing women above a certain age, however almost anyone who has ever spoken to me and knows anything more about autism than Sheldon Cooper Disease can guarantee you i have it, and from personal documentation over the course of now five years im pretty confident in saying I Am Autistic.

one of the ways this presents is that i am hyper aware of everything at all times. not in a high alert trauma response way (though also possible) but just in a My Attention Contains Multitudes way where i can comfortably juggle awareness of the clock ticking, the humidifier running at a different pitch today (probably need to change the filter), traffic outside, a conversation in the next room (if i get bored of this one sounds like the woman on the phone is having an entertaining day; i'll eavesdrop), wind, some animal in the garden, the AC is a bit high i'm cold, obviously the AC is set with you in mind because you're wearing long sleeves, and it is your office after all, have you read all those books on the shelf or is it just meant to make you look official, oh have to turn my phone to silent, my leg's getting tired i'm uncrossing my knees, oh someone else just came in and they didn't shut the front door so i can hear more traffic plus beach sounds now, oh school must have let out for lunch i can hear games, the humidifier smells weird too what's goin' On with that thing today?

and literally all of that happens every second of my life in every room i'm ever in, and at no point do i lose focus on the conversation. i just work that fast.

now my therapist does not understand autism. that is very apparent. because every single time i stop masking he suddenly drags me through grounding exercises i don't need - i can lucidly explain that i am already familiar with all the steps, can intelligently describe what is Actually happening in my mind, am showing no signs of distress or dissociation - and will not let me speak again until i hold eye contact, sit still and straight, and talk in an expressive tone.

and i have explained to him in detail what it will look like when i am in distress. he just ignores it.

and i feel like in his kind of therapy, the resolution of issues comes from explaining to people What they are feeling and what caused it. knowing this then solves the issue for them. MY issue is that my body stores negative emotions as physical sensations (and that i Do blame on trauma) even long after the emotion itself is gone, i am neutral and have processed it, and can recognise i am not in danger or distress. I just can't coax my body out of Threat Response, and usually have to wait days at a time for the lingering grossness of a slightly awkward phone call to work it's way out of my chest. That's what i'm coming for. i can describe what happened, how it affected me, how it Didn't affect me, what i think, what i feel, what i will do next time, and my whole emotional healing process - BUT i can't turn off my body's natural threat settings until Way after than they should have disengaged.

and despite being extremely clear and eloquent (i thought), and describing that sensation multiple times in different ways, it took THREE sessions before my psych blurted something like it out, and i latched into it and said 'YES!! THAT!! That is what i've been saying!' and he finally said 'oh! oh i'll change what i've set up, then'

and i have to do that every time. i feel like he doesn't respect my ability to understand my own body (which is something i've been receiving more and more from male practitioners in my town) and will only help me with the things i ask for if he can make it sound like he came to the breakthrough explanation for me. and even after that, he's altogether more interested in just getting me to act like how i imagine neurotypical people do at the end of a profound session than actually giving me any tools that could assist me.

i am beginning to think i am better off going to a trauma informed somatic therapist, but i wouldn't know where to find one nor how to tell if they are good.

please can anyone tell me what this is, what i might benefit from doing, and indeed if anyone else in the world has to deal with this and how u do

#actually autistic #vent #zero speaks #personal #life up8

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jackals-ships · 2 years

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(the silence takes you) I hope it takes me too

i am grabbing you by the shoulders i am shaking you lovingly as i think about these two yet again (referenced alcohol consumption, suicidal thoughts if you squint and canonical death of a loved one)

"So. Guy, gal or other?" Garrus certainly doesn't yelp but he does half startle out of his carapace, fixing a glare over his shoulder at Sidonis. He had been coming out to the balcony to think (to brood is what Weaver had been calling it) and apparently he's been doing it often enough to have the others become concerned. It would be touching, if he wasn't in such a foul mood.

"What?"

"The person you're thinking about." He leans against the balcony, hip cocked as he shifts his weight. "We've got something of a bet going if it's family, friend, lover, ex flame.." Garrus must make some face as Sidonis chuckles. "Partner then?"

He looks away, mandibles tight against his face as he tries to remind himself that his crew is just worried. Probably. "No." The atmosphere shifts, Sidonis's subvocals going from teasing to more somber, evidently realizing his misstep.

"..You wanna talk about it chief?"

"....Not really." But he sighs, reaches up to pinch the bridge of his nose and talks anyways. "They were. A friend. A very close friend." (that's not all they were, but how is he supposed to describe them? how is he supposed to talk about the way they leaned against him when they were tired? the way they made his heart flutter when they laughed? they way they were fiercely protective of their crew? of him?)

(they way they kissed him. gentle and friendly. and then wiggled as they were informed they were his first human kiss.)

(his only human kiss. coward he was he didn't ask for more.)

"It's uh. It's the anniversary of their death today." Sidonis makes a soft sound and a moment later there's a hand on his shoulder. It's..comforting. He hasn't allowed himself much in the way of comfort recently.

"Shit boss, I'm sorry. It's..hard, losing someone you're close to." A pause, hesitation filtering into his voice. "Especially if. You wanted to be even closer, I'm guessing."

Garrus's silence is all the answer he needs evidently as the hand moves from laying to gently stroking his shoulder. Neither of them know what to say, but he thinks that's alright at this moment. He's sure if he tried to speak he'd break down.

(he wants to say "I miss them." he wants to say "I love them and I didn't get to tell them until it was too late." he wants to say "I think I'm losing it Sids, I think I see them sometimes. I think I hear them when it's late and I can't sleep." he wants to say "I can't tell if it's comforting or not anymore. When I feel the ghost of their hands on my face.")

(he wants to say "It should have been me instead. Shepard was always so much better than me.")

But he doesn't. And the silence stretches on.

Eventually there's an arm around him, the warm weight of a half hug letting him know that he is blastedly cold. "..why don't we get you inside huh? Get you drunk and we can cry like a couple of babies huh?"

"Hmmf. Only if you've managed to get anything good and not that gasoline you pass off as alcohol." He's not quite smiling, but the clouds of his mood have lifted ever so slightly. They lift further as his friend laughs, giving him a gentle punch in the arm.

"Please, the stuff I get is just fine. You're just a prissy little Cipritinian who can't handle the good stuff."

The two of them continue to banter and mock the other as they go back inside. The others are blessedly absent or willing to give the two of them space. He doesn't think he could handle the others, spilling to one person is bad enough.

(later, when he's curled on his side, he feels the ghost of hands on his arm. they stroke up and down gently and if he turns his head, if he looks in the corner of his eye. he swears he sees them.)

(he swears they're on his bed, looking at him with that same soft smile they used to give him in the mornings when they were still partially asleep. he swears their scars glow now, with a blue tinge. three long lines across their face. a gentle light in the dark of his room.)

(he swears later that the alcohol loosens his tongue.)

(he swears later that he said he loved them. and he swears they had smiled. had said they know.)

(he swears later he can feel it still. where they kissed him.)

(and he swears, much later, there's a glimmer of recognition in their eyes. even as shepard turned barghest tries to tear out his throat.)

(swears he hears their name on his lips, feels their hands on him, trying to stop the bleeding, even as everything starts to go black. swears he hears his crew shouting at them to get away. swears he feels more than hears their snarling.)

(swears he must be dead or dreaming as he wakes up in a hospital bed. as they're curled against him, legs tucked up under them and...tail? curled around his waist.)

(he must be. but he won't complain as he pulls them closer, as he buries his face into their neck.)

(and feels those cold hands on his crest.)

#jackals barks #okay 2 rb #also i love leaving it up to interpretation if zan actually Was there via weird ghost shenanigans Or if Garrus was hallucinating it all #bc zan sure as fuck doesn't know. just gets a weird far off look when theyre asked about it bc they blocked out a lot of being the barghest

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sashi-ya · 2 years

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Hi!! For the Christmas event, can i have day 15 with shanks? Chocolate ofc

I like to imagine that the hospital thing is related to his s/o being pregnant or something

Hi darling!! I'm sorry for the delay but here it is! It's a little angsty at first but I swear it's cute and sweet! I hope you enjoy! Thank u for requesting! Happy holidays! 💖

Chocolate Shanks x F! Reader Day 15: Christmas eve at the ER.

tw: mentions of pregnancy and pregnancy complications (reader is ok at the end). Don't ask me why but I made Shanks be a pilot in this AU 😂

wc: 1031

He is not here. And it hurts. Shanks said he would be here at nine…

“I’m scared, baby…” you mumble, holding your belly because for some reason it hurts. Shanks is a pilot from Red Force Airlines, and he was supposed to come back home tonight for Christmas eve. While he is in the air, there is no way you could text him, so the last time you talked to him was ten hours ago before takeoff.

You are alone in this city, since you moved out you haven’t met anyone here yet. And your belly hurts.

The smell of the nice Christmas dinner you prepared for tonight, makes you nauseous.

And it hurts, it hurts so much.

Kneels on the ground, dizzy and weak you grab your phone. “Baby are you coming home soon? my belly aches” you text him. You know he won’t be able to read it, but just in case. Grabbing your belly once more, you tremble. Last night you took a pregnancy test, and it came out as positive. Yet you haven’t had the chance to get to the doctor yet. What’s more anybody but you know the news, not even Shanks.

“Little baby, are you alright? You are too small yet” you mumble, caressing the little bump on your lower belly. You have prepared a little box to announce to your lover he is gonna be a dad, but you don’t know if you will be able to even see him when he is home, because the dizziness and a sudden painful sting makes you lose consciousness.

The soft moquette of your floor holds your inert body for what you think it’s been minutes, hours… “Shanks, baby… where are you?” you mumble softly closing your eyes, and your world turns completely dark.

“(Name)!... (Name) what’s wrong?”... Sudden lapses of consciousness allow you to see his red locks, outside it is snowing heavily, you feel your legs wet. “Baby, I’m here! Please hold on!”

...

“Sir, is there a chance she could be pregnant?”. “I don’t know, doctor… Please, help her!”.

...

The hours pass and it’s almost midnight, the red-haired man has gone through his second cup of coffee from a vending machine in the waiting room. The coffee tastes bitter, as bitter as the situation. He is still wearing his uniform and a little stain of blood over his leg from carrying his lover to the car catches his attention.

There aren't many people going around the ER, every light has dimmed so the patients could rest. Some nurses wearing Christmas hats apparently are walking towards the pediatrics area, and the cold embrace of some led lights filter through the doors of the “Shock room” where her lover is.

He wonders for how long she had been lying on the ground and why she was bleeding. Shanks plays with a little box inside his pocket and asks himself if he could have done anything just by getting home earlier. His tired eyes get all watery, and desperation creeps inside his heart… Why are they taking so long?... What’s going on?... Is (Name) gonna be alright?

The sliding doors open, and Shanks stands up immediately. “(Name)’s familiars?” a man in aqua green scrubs with tattooed hands says from there. “I’m here, his husb… his partner” the red haired says, coming closer to the tanned doctor.

“My name is Dr. Trafalgar. I’m (Name)’s doctor. She is ok and is resting now” he informs Shanks, who breathes a sigh of relief. “What’s the matter, doc?” Shanks asks, expecting any news but what he is about to hear.

“The patient has experienced mild complications related to her condition, but she is all right now. By the way… Congratulations, Sir. You are gonna be a dad in less than seven months” Dr. Trafalgar announces the soon to be dad. The red haired widens his eyes and blinks several times until realizes he wasn’t dreaming. The tattooed doctor tilts his head a little awaiting for any response, but Shanks could only mumble.

“Whe… where i… is she?” he said with a trembling voice and the serious doctor smiled subtly leading the way.

You, with a belt like thing around your belly, are still a little weak but nothing could make this moment more beautiful than hearing the fast beat of your little miracle inside you.

dum… dum… dum … dum … dum…

“I’m so happy to hear your heartbeat so strong, baby” you whisper, caressing your belly.

Suddenly a knock on the glass door, the serious but amazing doctor opens asking for permission and behind him, Shanks.

“I let you have your moment; you can call me or the nurse anytime (Name). Ok?” he asks, giving a last look to yours and the baby heart monitor. “Thank you so much, Dr. Trafalgar. Merry Christmas”. “Merry Christmas, family” he says, leaving the room with a subtle smile he couldn’t suppress anymore.

Shanks comes closer to your bed, he is still unable to speak, but he is indeed crying. Ugly crying. Happy, happy crying.

“Merry Christmas, daddy”

“Is that her heart?” he asks, wiping his tears away. “Yes, her or hisheart” you tell him, giggling. He always wanted to have a girl and it shows. “I’m the happiest person in this whole world, baby” he says, sitting next to you in bed, careful but still hugging you tight.

“I love you; I love you so much. Thank you for this” he says, sobbing over you, tears wetting your cheeks. “I love you too, baby… I had a surprise planned but… yeah, little complications. Was the flight delayed?” you ask, because he indeed didn’t get home until two hours after he was supposed to arrive.

“Yeah, no… about that…” he says, and searches for something inside his pocket. “Uhm, I thought my surprise was going to be the best Christmas gift, so I had to go get it from the jewelry store before coming home… but you surpassed me…”

A little velvety box shows a brilliant, precious ring inside… “Baby, tell mommy to say yes to daddy!” he whispers to your belly, planting a sweet kiss over it.

“I do, daddy… I do” 💖~

#shanks #akagami no shanks #shanks x reader #shanks x you #one piece x reader #chocolate and peppermint event #one piece x y/n #one piece #one piece shanks #shanks one piece #shanks headcanons #shanks x y/n #red haired shanks #shanks imagine #shanks hc #sashi ya #one piece x you #one piece x oc #sashi-ya

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erensproudsimp · 3 years

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Chef D'œuvre

Jean kirstein x Reader

⚠ Sexual Content Ahead ⚠

Content Warnings:Fluff, Sex on a canvas, established relationship, teasing Jean hehe, dirty talk, ultimate smut + this isn't proofread

Summary: Restraining Jean from touching you the whole day, a candle light dinner in the evening leading to sex on a canvas? The idea of Jean as an artist is just so hot.

Word count:4.1k

Fanart is by artworkbyzuli on insta

Cross-posted on ao3

Colorful tainted tiles, the smell of fresh paint hovering in the air, early hours of sunshine filtering from the beige curtains to fall on his face highlighting his features as his eyes concentrated on the canvas. Blanc frames waiting to be hued with a meaning or not. Teeth clenching, his jawline apparent, he looked like a Greek God, his brush being his weapon, almost out of this world. Shirt glued on his body like a second skin layer bringing out his honed muscled body, Jean truly was a work of art spreading his magnificence on cloth and paper. Standing by the door frame in his shirt two times bigger than your figure, you admired your boyfriend, his back facing you, drowned in his own world of aesthetic in his studio.

Tiptoeing to him, you wrapped your arms around his torso, your cheek pressed on his back catching him off-guard. You took a quick whiff of him. Sandalwood with a faint citrus.

"Woah there, good morning baby, did you have a good night sleep?" Jean's hoarse voice almost made your legs lose their balance. His free hand caressing your arms, you hummed as a simple yes still intoxicated by his scent.

"I'm going to go prepare breakfast, I'll call for you when I'm done." Jean gave you a quick forehead kiss before you left the room.

Cracking some eggs in the pan, you connected your phone to the speaker in the house to play some music while you proceeded to put fruits in the blender to make smoothies. Swaying your body to the music at the same time lip-syncing to the words, you spread butter on slices of bread unaware of Jean's presence behind you. The man crossed his arms, leaning on the wall he admired your actions which were nothing but alluring to him.

What made it even more hot to him was the fact that you were wearing his shirt. At first in the studio, he didn't realise but now that he noticed, he couldn't help but smirk to himself. He took in the way his shirt was practically floating on you, the flashbacks of last night suddenly raced through his mind. The way you were moaning his name, grabbing the sheets tightly as you let him take control of you made him take a deep breath before he approached you.

Now it was his turn to return you the hug from earlier. Surprised by him, he didn't leave you a second to react to his abrupt act of affection, he moved your hair to the side to plant a kiss on your neck making you shiver. His arms tightened around you just as his kisses went deeper all through your neck.

"y/n," his hot breath unsteady.

"Je-Jean, the eggs are gonna burn," you breathed.

"The only thing burning right now is my urge to fuck you right on this counter," Jean whispered in your ear almost making you lose your thinking pattern.

"Jean, I'm serious," you tried to wingle from his grasp to save your omelettes and placed them on two separate plates.

Jean looked at you disappointedly as though a puppy who had just lost its toy.

"Aww don't look at me like that, gimme a kiss, come on," you opened your arms, encouraging him to come to you.

Gladly he did and locked his lips in an instant.

"Jump," Jean demanded in between the makeout and you, of course, obeyed.

Your legs around his hips, sloppy lips fighting for dominance, Jean pressed your ass on the kitchen island. His arms snaking up and down your thighs, giving them a light squeeze here and there.

"Your legs are pretty, but they would be prettier on my shoulders hmm," his voice laced with a passion so hot like molten lava.

Your insides now ignited with flame, you pushed your hips into his by closing in your legs wrapped around him. Hard. Mischievousness coursed through your mind as you wanted to tease him for making you flushed.

"Want my legs over you? well catch them if you can," with that said, you jumped off the kitchen island freeing yourself from his clutches to run away from him.

"Hey! Get back here! I'm not done with you! " Jean called after you, laughing as he chased you down the corridors. A soft genuine laugh emitting from him when you threw pillows from the sofas at him to halt his movements only for him to catch the items and throw it back at you like a snowball fight.

A grin plastered on your face when you finally got tired of the running and collapsed on the floor with Jean kneeling beside you equally euphoric. The happiness was mainly because he felt so much at peace seeing your smile.

"Got ya," he breathed from exhaustion, encircling his arms around your waist and pulling you close so that he could rest his chin on your shoulder.

"You're so warm," Jean nuzzled his nose into your neck.

"Speaking of warmth, our food's getting cold in the kitchen, hurry up we need to eat," you mentioned.

"The only thing I want to eat right now is you-" you cut him off with your index finger pressed on his soft lips.

"Jean, I swear to god, let's go," you pushed him from back because he was trying to grab your ass, however, you receded.

"Your hands were so small on my back, but I'd prefer them jerking my dic-" again you shut him up by shoving toast bread in his mouth to save you from further embarrassment.

"Y/n baby, I need you so bad right now," he said swallowing that bread hard as your eyes widen.

From the look in his eyes, you could tell that this man was sexually frustrated, certainly because of your actions earlier but you didn't expect him to be so thirsty.

For a brief moment, a thought came up to you, basically telling you to refuse his current wishes to make him further agitated just so that you ravish the feeling of him taking the pent-up anger out harder on you later. Perfect plan, you internally agreed to yourself.

"Oh you need me badly? How about you show me that at night, okay?"a light smirk stretching the corner of your mouth.

" Y/n, I need you now, like right now, I can't wait till night or anything," Jean whined. How cute.

"Aww, you're that desperate baby? You can't hold yourself back? I thought you were tougher than this,"you cooed.

" Y/n, I can see damn well what you're trying to do, so stop messing with me please, "Jean reached out to grab your face only for you to pull back. Not going to lie that did hurt you when you saw the disappointed look on his face, yet, oddly that made you feel and realise the control you had over him and goddamn this felt good.

"Okay then, how about a little bit of challenge for you? If you manage to keep your hands off me the entire day and that includes any sort of contact, I'll make a surprise for you tonight as a reward. And if you lose then no sex for you until the next day baby. Deal?"

"Now that's going to be hard as hell but your surprises never fail to entertain me so deal."

"That was quick of you," you commented shaking his hand as a way of signing the contract.

"I just know that you're going to do something remarkable that will blow my mind so I'm simply looking forward to it."

His hopes were ridiculously high for the reward and luckily you already had something in mind for tonight.

After breakfast, Jean wasted no time to rush into his studio to keep you out of his sight. That was going to be a little too easy for him to win in this way. Not that you didn't want him to win, you couldn't help but want to push him to his limits. While you were scavenging your mind for the perfect way to catch him off guard, you heard a knock at the door. Outside was the postman with a package which seemed to be a delivery of one of the various things you kept buying online.

Taking the parcel inside, you opened it to find something that made you smiled evilly. It was a black transparent two pieces lingerie with lace straps. Not a second was wasted for you to change into that. To hide your plans, you wore a bathrobe and tiptoed to the studio.

Inside, Jean clearly concentrated on drawing when you creaked open the door, his attention now on you.

"Y/n why are you wearing a bathrobe in the middle of the da- oh-"

Right at that moment, you removed the robe letting it fall to your feet to unveil the marvel that was hidden inside of it.

Jean's breath hitched in his throat.

"You have no idea how badly I want to scream right now,"his pencil falling out of his hand, he covered his face with his hand and took a step back from you. He rubbed his temples as he inhaled deeply.

"Fuck y/n, why are you doing this to me?"he looked at you from up to down as though he was eating you up with his eyes, capturing every inch of what he's seeing and burning it into his memory.

"Do you like what you see?" your hands on your hips as you leaned on the wall.

"You have no idea."

You chucked and approached him slowly.

"If only I could touch you right now, you have no idea of what I'd do to you," Jean put his hands into the pockets of his pants to try to contain himself from not jumping on you like a hungry wolf who hasn't eaten in weeks.

Clacking your black heels on the cold tiles, your hands meticulously moving on your hips, you diminished the distance between you two. One foot difference. Jean licked his teeth from inside closed mouth and opened it slightly to let out hot breath, sustaining the proximity but you could see the intensity in his eyes.

"I can't stop staring, please y/n, "

"Where's the fun in that? I wanted to see you all hopeless for me and you're doing a pretty good job resisting," your finger pointing at his growing bulge.

Blowing air from his mouth, his hands on his hips, he walked to and fro.

"Is this the surprise you were telling me about in the morning?"

"Of course not, the surprise is bigger than this. I just wanted to give you a little sneak peak thought since I love you so much and don't want to kill you with a heart attack," you giggled twirling a strand of your hair. His eyes went big.

"If that's the case, you better prepare yourself for tonight because you seriously don't know what I'm going to do to you," Jean licked his lips.

"Can't wait," you blew him a kiss while you strolled out of the room, his eyes still fixated on the lingerie.

Not only did what happened turned you on, but it also motivated you to start the preparations for Jean to wreck you till you couldn't walk. Changing into pajamas for comfort, you took out scented candles of your preference and placed them on the nightstands and dressing table in the bedroom.

Jean's POV

'What the hell was y/n even thinking pulling that move on me? '

Sighing deeply I looked at my boner.

"Now what am I going to do of you? Jerk off to the memory of y/n in that black lingerie?"

On second thought, that doesn't sound bad, except for the fact that he was in an art studio.

Gosh, was he not turned when he first saw you in that. The way the cloth surrounded your soft breasts, decorating them to be perhaps the most flawless thing he'd ever seen or the way your stance screamed if confidence. He couldn't decide which of them were hotter.

The little ribbons on the strap did nothing but make you more erotic. How did you even manage to look that good, is a mystery that he will never discover.

"I really got the best of the best for me huh," Jean smiled to himself.

His art failed in front of you. Null and void. In his eyes you were the definition of what a beauty goddess was, hence proving that beauty indeed lied in the eyes of the beholder. Despite your imperfections which nonetheless still made you impeccable, Jean always attempted in copying your sublimity yet in vain.

Without a doubt, you were the best Muse he's ever had in his life. One day hoping that he would finally do you justice and be able to recreate his image of you in his mind on cloth, Jean kept trying albeit failing each time. However, he would absolutely never give up.

Collecting himself from the recent impact, he picked up his pencil from the ground and as much as he wanted to concentrate on his drawing of you, he couldn't prevent himself from picturing you from back then. You were beyond gorgeous. Maybe, that exactly was the inspiration he needed.

"I need to take a bath," Jean said to himself. Luckily there were two bathrooms in the house, as he wouldn't want to interrupt you while you were busy making whatever surprise.

To be honest, Jean was as impatient as you and full on ready to be taken by surprise by you.

Your POV

"Okay I've cleaned the room spotless, scented it, changed the sheets of the bed, took out towels and now time to bring the big thing,"you checked off everything on your mentally made-up list before you could continue.

Rushing to the wardrobe, you took out the art supplies required for the sex painting. Canva isn't the comfiest option for sex but you knew that it will all be worth the work at the end.

You honestly couldn't wait to see Jean's reaction to this.

Since the mattress can get a little colorful, you didn't want to run the risk of ruining the bedding either, you rather placed the sheet of canva on the carpeted floor that was still easy to the body. Laying down a cloth, that you taped so that it wouldn't dislocated when things get moving, on top of which you placed the canva and towels around it as well as a trail of towels towards the bathroom so that clean up of the post-art would be rendered easier.

"Okay now that everything is settled, let's go take a bath and prep myself up," you muttered to yourself, locking the door from the inside so that Jean wouldn't accidentally enter it.

-Time skip-

A private dinner in your dwelling makes for an magical evening. Silk sheet on the table, napkins neatly pleated on the white plates surrounded by tableware. Incorporating flower petals, slow romantic harmonious music, and low lighting to create the right atmosphere you as well added string lights for an added touch of enchantment. Aphrodisiac food was the obvious choice, you thought, placing down the lobster in the middle. Wine in glasses twinkling to the fairy lights for a further sizzle.

Not long until Jean made his appearance in a suit, top buttons of his shirt loose while you were in a black dress lighting the scented candles.

"Hey babe," his throaty voice called.

Turning around, you saw him, his hands in his pockets walking towards you. His large body towering yours.

"You look hot," he complimented looking down on you.

"So do you," you giggled bopping his nose.

Pulling a chair, Jean signaled you to sit as he pushed the chair then going to his seat facing you.

The empty wine glasses were delicately filled with the red alcohol, each of you raising your goblet for a cheers.

" Cheers to my pretty boyfriend."

"Cheers to my future wife," Jean smirked as you were busy turning fifty shades of red.

In comfortable silence, except for the clinking of utensils, both of you ate.

"Main course is done for, now time for dessert, "he said standing from his chair to yours. Lift you off the ground swiftly, he walked you to the bedroom in bridal style.

"huh? HUH? Jean what are you doing?"

"Taking my dessert to eat, what else?" he replied kissing you. His kiss was a fever. Hot. Sluggish.

Opening the door to disclose the surprise, his eyes went wide until it hit him. The canva and towels on the ground, paint orderly laid on the bed.

"I was thinking the house needed some more decorations, so why not spice things up by creating this masterpiece and hanging it in the living room for everyone to see? " innocently you smiled at him.

"Hahaha y/n! You're amazing!" rosy cheeks, eyes twinkling with admiration and affection he twirled your body in air, "wait then that means that the whole day you preventing me from touching you was pointless," his expression now slightly frowned.

"I mean, yeah, I mean, I just wanted to see you desperate for me," you fumbled with your words.

"Bad girl. After this I will have to punish you for making me suffer for nothing," Jean put you down.

You didn't know whether to feel anticipation or fear knowing that this man was going to wreck you.

"Why are you acting coy all of a sudden? Weren't you the one to act like a whore? " with the cockiest smirk ever Jean said.

His hands previously placed gently on your hips began to tighten. The press only fueled your rapid beating of your heart. Tilting your head towards his face by lifting it with one finger on your chin, he locked eye contact with you.

Lust filled his irises. Skilfully, he unzipped your dress and pulled it off your skin. Skin that desired to be touched so badly. Skin that burned under his fingertips that grazed the surface. Under the clothes exposed the black lingerie that got Jean worked up since morning.

Even though he already saw you in it, it nevertheless felt like the first time. The same adoration that held his gape seemed to be worshiping your body.

"May I take your bra off? " Jean asked. You nodded, Jean elatedly removed it.

"Look at these perfect tits. Belonging and made only for me," cupping them in his hands, he growled against your neck.

Your mind going blanc and empty, you were left speechless. Only ravishing him. His presence. His hot breath fanning on you. As much as you wanted to take this slowly, you couldn't stop yourself from craving to feel him buried deep inside of you.

Your hand slightly sliding over his growing bulge, earning a hiss and restrained moan from him.

"No. You're not going to be the one to tease me anymore. It's my turn," biting your collarbone, he declared making you leap in his arms.

Feeling self-conscious that you were the only one in undergarment, you unbuttoned his shirt and ripped it off him while he was sloppily making out with you.

Grabbing your thighs, he insinuate for you to jump. Chest to chest, he then threw you on the bed making it sink under your weight. He was finally freed from his restraints of not laying a hand on you.

His body hovering yours, he kissed you passionately. He's never kissed you like this before. Maybe you should restrain him more often.

Jean swallowed your gasp when unknowingly his hand went down your stomach to press on your clothed clit.

"Huh? You like that?" laughs "yeah you like that don't you," he breathed his finger circling around the bud. Your response was a moan and your breath quickening. Your reaction turned Jean on more than he already was.

Going down on you, he sucked your soaked underwear, the room filled with slurping sounds. He gripped your hips by wrapping his big arms around it to prevent you from squirming away. You were practically a moaning mess. Aggressively, he ripped it off you, continuing to lick through your folds.

"Jea-Jean I think I'm going to c-cum," you manage to utter.

"Heh, not yet princess, we got so much more do," he wiped his mouth that was coated with your juices and licked the liquid off his fingers. You looked at him with pleading eyes as you were yearning for a release.

Legs trembling, you raised your body to be able to sit while Jean grabbed the body-safe paint and put a fair amount on the cloth.

"Come here my lady," he said as he picked you to lay your body gently on the canva, paint on your back.

Jean took off his pants and underwear, his hard dick slapping on his stomach whilst you were making yourself comfortable.

A brush in his one hand and a palette in another, he sauirted some paint on the flat item.

Impatience began to overcome you as you begged him to come to you.

"Wait a moment more babe, I'm just making the perfect colour," Jean finished his sentence by approaching you.

Jean maintained eye-contact with you, the brush gliding over your soft skin leaving colors behind its track. Chills ran down your skin after each stroke. Drowning in bliss, Jean slowly ran the tool down your belly to an inch higher up your pussy. You were waiting for him to pass the paint through your core but instead he stopped his actions making you internally more annoyed.

"I'm not going to let you get off so easily after what you did to me," Jean murmured.

Cold. Squeezing the paint tubes, Jean splat paint on your body, mainly on your stomach. He leaned forward and pressed his body against yours to spread the paint.

Lining his dick right outside your entrance, he thrusted in without warning. Your back arching, you let out a moan. His hands rushing behind your back, he hugged your body as he gave you time to adjust to him.

"Mmmm, fits perfectly. Look at how good you take me, yeah you see that? "Jean moaned in your ear.

" It's okay, you can move,"you bit back a groan because Jean didn't leave you a second before pumping in and out of you.

" I can't believe you're mine, all mine, no one but me knows how good you feel, just me,"Jean panted in your ears," listen to my moans, you he-ear how goo-od you're making me feel? "

"AH-yes Jean, yes," you purred.

His forehead rested on yours, mouth connected, swallowing each other's breath and sounds.

" Go faster Jeaann." This made him slow down instead of doing as you wanted.

"Oh? you want me to go faster? Go-o ahead, beg for it. Tell me how bad you need me," Jean's stroked your insides with long and slow thrusts.

"Pl-please Jean, need you so badly, you make me feel so good so take all your anger out on me bu-ut please make me cum alongside with you!"

"Lift your ass, my queen,"Jean satisfied with your answer commanded, which you did as he ordered as he pounded deeper into you mixing the paint on the canva.

"Look at you, such a good girl."

It wasn't long until Jean filled your insides with his hot seed making you scream his name loudly. Right before you could come that Jean could tell by the shaking of your breath, he lifted your body off the masterpiece so that your ejaculation wouldn't ruin it.

In his arms, you came so hard, your liquids dripping down Jean's skin.

"Y/n, I don't think you realised that but what you just did was so hot," Jean admired you.

"Also, thank you for fulfilling my fantasies as an artist," he thanked you kissing your cheeks fondly.

Walking on the towel leading to the bathroom, he put you inside the bathtub, opening the tap to let the container fill with hot water. While it was doing so, Jean got in with you between his legs and head on his chest heaving up and down.

Jean took some shampoo in his hand, and massaged your scalps with you basking. Heavenly was a word too light to describe the feeling. You were basically in paradise.

"In round two I'm not planning on going gentle now so just bite the pillow and take it," Jean sputtered against your hair.

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mincoeur · 5 years

Text

The knocking gets louder.

You groan.

“Yeah ’m coming,” you mutter. “Who in their right mind…?”

It takes you a second to untangle yourself from the sheets, too groggy to fully process anything more than your bare toes. Only one in the afternoon and yet it might as well have been night, the clouds dark and fat outside–a sure sign of threatening thunder. For reasons unknown, you always became more nocturnal at this time of year, as though your body was somehow in synchronization with the earth’s seasons. If you turn into a seabear on your sofa one of these days you won’t be surprised.

A vague second-thought makes you glance at your reflection in the black of your television screen to affirm you aren’t naked before you stumble your way to the front door.

“There you are!”

You blink.

The boy standing outside fidgets, tugs his bag closer to him.

You blink again.

He twitters out a nervous laugh. “I was starting to think you weren’t home. That would have sucked, yeah?”

Your lips tug downwards. Jimin. Cogs whir lazily in your brain. Why was he here? Did you–

You choke.

Jimin.

Jimin is at your door. And you are dressed in your pajamas.

In fact, you can’t even call them proper pajamas, what with the oversized shirt hanging to your thighs, just nearly covering the Clifford the Big Red Dog shorts you’ve owned since the eighth grade. Suddenly you are very, very awake.

“Jimin?” Something that is definitely not a squawk leaves you in a rushed breath. You clear your throat. “I mean, uh, what are you doing here?”

“Is it that bad to see me?” He laughs, grins so wide his eyes nearly disappear.

You want to become one with the door. Why, why didn’t you look through the peephole before you answered? Here you are: crusty morning breath, and here he is, looking like he just hopped out from a photoshoot in heaven, smile as warm and inviting as the scarf he’s ducking his face into-

wait.

Jimin is indeed trying to be eaten by his scarf, the tips of his ears bitten pink, cheeks flushed an angry sanguine. You peer closer and realize his smile is shaky, teeth clattering. It hits you like a brick that you yourself are unconsciously curling your fingers into your palms to hide them from the harsh cold coming in through the open door.

“How long have you been out here?” You demand, all thoughts of embarrassment fluttering away in the breeze. Your hands flit about, snatching onto any piece of his clothing you could find. Jimin doesn’t stand a chance as you pull him into the house.

“I’m okay, really,” Jimin reassures you, but you’re not deaf to the sigh of relief that escapes him when the two of you venture deeper into the heat of your home. He brings his palms up to his face and blows. “But thank you.” You’re drawn to his mouth at the action, his full lips even more pillowy from the frigid cold he had just escaped. He bites into his bottom lip, rubbing the soft petal with his thumb, and then you’re rushing to look away, to catch your breath before you lose it all together.

“That’s great.” It’s a miracle that you don’t stutter as you twist abruptly, heading towards your kitchen. “Tea? Tea.”

Ten minutes later, Jimin is sitting in your couch, all cozy and snug and sipping hot cocoa from your favourite mug. You’re squished beside him, still trying and subsequently failing to understand what’s going on.

“Anyway,” Jimin stretches. “I come bearing gifts.”

You swing an arm over the back of the sofa. “It’s the middle of November.” It doesn’t take much for your stare to turn accusatory. “Actually, how did you even find out where I dorm?”

He squints. “Well I mean,” he chases the last bit of the cocoa in the bottom of the cup. “I’ve been here before. Remember?”

“Uh no, I definitely do not remember that ever being a thing.”

Jimin hums, purses his lips with mischievous eyes. It’s an expression you are all too familiar with, and you feel the terror sink into your bones. “Ah, you wouldn’t know would you?” His tongue swipes out to remove his chocolate mustache.

“Park Jimin,” you slam your hands onto your thighs. Every second that goes by frightens you further. “What did you do?!”

“More like what you did.” He runs a hand through his hair on habit. “Last summer? The meteor shower?”

You rack your brain for memories.

Meteor shower. Yes. It was the night that–

“Oh no,” you moan.

“Oh yes.”

You wince. “Alright, alright, I believe you, stop-”

“Poor me,” he interrupts, pressing onward through your groans. “Poor little old me, saddled with the drunk who decided to take a swim in the lake.”

“I was having a bad week.“

“So of course, being the loving friend that I was–and the only one willing to–I had to bring you home before you did anything more insane, like I don’t know, try to eat several ducks raw .” You open your mouth. “Tae told me what building you dorm in.”

You close it back, hissing a dark “traitor” through your teeth.

“You were so cute,” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows. “I even had to tuck you into bed.”

“Can we just pretend that never happened?” You rub at your face.

“We could. But where’s the fun in that?”

You give him a look that says he’d better behave or he’d be kicked back outside in ten seconds. "You said you brought gifts.”

“Well, a gift,” he digs into his bag, rummaging around. "Precisely one. Singular.” You watch blearily, sinking down into the couch. “Ta-da!"

Your fingers inch closer only for him to slap at your hand. You watch in despair as he holds it away from your reach. “What?”

“Are you not even going to ask what it’s for?” He raises an eyebrow.

“What’s it for?” You deadpan.

“Well I’m not gonna be here all next month, so I decided to come give you your Christmas gift early. And no, you’re still not allowed to open it until actual Christmas.”

“Right.” You already know you’re going to peek the moment he leaves. “Regardless, where are you going?”

“Visiting family,” he says shortly, twisting to face you better in the sofa.

You rub at your neck. Outside, the bitter wind still howls and scratches at your balcony window. “Well now I feel bad, you jerk. I don’t have anything for you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” It’s his turn to roll his eyes. A hand lifts to wag a nonexistent finger at you, lost in the long sleeve of his sweater. “Just accept my love.”

You decide not to dignify that with a response, covering up another yawn with your fist.

Jimin frowns.

“You know, that’s the third time you’ve done that.”

“What?”

“Yawn.” He sits up. His eyes are suddenly brighter, more intrusive, scanning over your appearance.

“Really?” You shift, making an effort to try and appear more alert. Jimin is one hundred percent not buying it.

“Yes, really. Are you tired of me already?” His tone is joking at first, but it soon trails off into doubt. “Was this a bad time to come over?”

“No!” You insist, surprising yourself at the venom in your tone. The thought of him going and taking his sunshine presence with him leaves a terrible taste on your tongue. “No, you’re fine.” You don’t even realize you’ve reached out to grab his sleeve.

“Uh…huh.” He scrutinizes the couch he is sitting on, as if just noticing the unusual number of blankets strewn all over it. “And what were you doing before I got here?”

You hesitate. “Well.”

“Knew it,“ he shakes his head, clicking at the roof of his mouth. A second later he’s shuddering a breathy laugh, the one where his whole body shakes, and if he was the sun before he just became a whole new star system. His radiance is so bright you nearly have to look away. “It’s the middle of the day!”

“Yeah whatever.“

Jimin snickers and rests his cheek in his palm. He says nothing then, merely stares at you with something undecipherable in those eyes. Your head instantly spins with chaos. Don’t make it a big deal . Your heart stutters in your throat when his silent stare only continues, unrelenting. Don’t–

The corner of his mouth lifts into a lopsided smile and you promptly give up.

“Jimin-”

“You should rest,” he interrupts. You squirm in the seat, already rearing to disagree. He stops you ahead, pouts in that Jimin way that no one in history has ever been able to resist–you never stood a chance.

“I-”

“I’m right, aren’t I?” It’s less of a question and more of an intimidation at this point. You feel yourself deflate.

“You’re right,” you surrender, scowling at the smug sound that exits him. “‘Didn’t want to send you back out in that hell, but apparently you’re just dying to freeze again. Sure you don’t want to wait until it lightens up?”

Jimin looks at you like you’re insane.

“Who said I was going anywhere?”

Right.

“Uh.” You nowhere near computed. “What are you going to do then?”

“Well I did say you should sleep, idiot. Let’s just sleep together.”

Everything short-circuits. Any smartass comments ooze right out your ears and onto your freshly vacuumed carpet.

“I'm sorry ?” You trade places with a banshee in two seconds flat.

Jimin ducks closer as though he’s entirely oblivious to your plight. You don’t react when he casually unwraps your fingers from the mug in your lap, placing it onto the floor.

“It’ll be like a siesta,” he shrugs. His tone is innocent, but literally everything you know about him says otherwise. He lifts your knee to free some of the blanket trapped underneath; all you can process is the sensation of his hands on your skin. “This couch is big enough for the both of us.”

It’s really not –Jimin’s whole leg is hanging off the side, but you don’t get the chance to complain because he’s already moving, adjusting the pillows and draping the dense blanket over the two of you.

“Your toes are cold,” is all you can say, too shell shocked to filter what’s exiting your mouth.

“Sorry,” he drawls. “Who was it that had me standing outside?”

You retreat further into your side of the couch so that his skin doesn’t brush yours, a feat you learn is next to near impossible with the space given.

“You don’t have to-”

“It’s fine,” you rush, unwilling to venture into the topic any further lest your heart bursts from your nerves. “This is good.”

Conversation ceases, and a heavy silence settles thicker than the uneasy tension in the room. There’s only the sound of your combined breaths–of the rustling of your clothes as you try your hardest to remain still, which only results in the exact opposite.

A good chunk of time passes this way. As your eyes grow burdened, you think that maybe, just maybe, you wouldn’t have to confront this, that you would actually fall asleep before having to face the situation.

Jimin’s voice meeting the air assures you that there is no such luck.

“This is stupid,” he says bluntly. “Get over here.”

You reluctantly peer over your shoulder to see what he was doing, and almost choke on your saliva. His arms are spread wide open, teeth nipping at his lips in what looks to be apprehension. At your aghast face, he nooks his fingers in an action that reads ‘come’. Heat drains from your face and floods straight downwards.

“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” you play it off with a wavering smile. “I think we should just–”

He grimaces.

Jimin says your name firmly,

and

you feel it: the way the mood shifts.

He’s not teasing anymore. The implications are clear as day that he’s casting aside the tiptoeing you’ve been doing around each other since day one.

You don’t dare to breathe in the sudden empty space. You’ve been in denial for so long, for so long, that this jumps right past discomfort and into actual panic.

You’re scared. Shame burns hot through you. Logic tells you that this is ridiculous, but the unknown frightens you. There is so much empty space now, a writhing breeding ground practically pregnant with future disappointment and heartbreak. You can’t move, and this void of time has gone on for too long, and he is going to give up, going to move on-

Jimin’s gaze softens.

“Hey,” he says. You startle.

You know that look.

You’ve had an infinite amount of time to study the enigma that is Park Jimin. The things that have him giddy for days. Those that creep and burrow under his skin to make him boil . You’ve memorized the true meaning behind every smile, every leer, every chuckle. How could you not? The man had woven himself tight into the threads of your life, just as you had he.

This was your best friend. One who was currently splintering you into jagged shards at his feet, but it’s the same Jimin who you shoved laughing into the pool last week. The same Jimin who can’t take his coffee black, who texts you way past midnight into those early morning hours that are delirious with exhaustion and make his terrible jokes funnier than they should be.

And right now, there is no mistaking the unspoken message in his eyes. A promise of security. Of future whispered nothings and lazy kisses, and trembling, burning trails left by sunkissed hands–anything, everything cliche under the sun if you so desired it. All or nothing the two of you could be at once laid in front your hands, open or not.

You ache.

“Get over here,” he repeats simply.

You say nothing when you move and duck into his open arms.

He holds you to his chest. You press your nose into the curve of his neck, quivering an exhale. Smiling, he brushes his lips to the top of your head, the touch so faint you would have doubted it was there at all if not for the way he reverently brings you closer.

“Sleep well.”

↪dedicated to @sehunpeachy

#tooth rotting fluff(!)#the fic no one asked for but. oh me! i did!#park jimin #jimin x reader #sir whiplash #vina writes

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