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#yes that post was triggering i feel better about it now but it's a bad take i think. op needed to either be extremely more clear about

golbrocklovely · 9 months

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our girlfriend // sam and colby

A/N: it's my bday and i'm giving you guys a present... aren't i so nice lol i know it's been a LONG time since i posted any form of a fic, and i'm sorry about that. but hopefully this makes up for it a bit. if you squint hard enough, this could basically be a 'careful what you wish for' fic as well (but not really since the boys are just normal and not a demon or vampire). hope you enjoy and let me know what you think !

prompt: you and the boys always had your fun, but you never tried it in public. and now they want to. || fem!reader x sam and colby

trigger warning: SMUT, threesome (but no actual sex), no solby, you are sam and colby's girlfriend…. lucky you lmao, fingering, oral fixation/finger sucking, bossy!bf sam and colby, also very possessive, a wee bit of degradation, mentions of baby, darling, baby girl, love, good girl, slut, and it also takes place slightly in public (but away from everyone)

word count: 2003

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

"Guys, are you sure about this?" You questioned hurriedly as you rushed up the stairs.

Sam looked back at you, his voice loud over the thumping music of the party. "Yeah, c’mon Y/N. There’s no one up here."

"Probably for good reason." You grumbled.

"You’ve never been one to follow the rules. Don’t start now..." Colby smirked devilishly, his voice right by your ear as he passed you on the stairs.

Reaching the top and with each one of them holding a hand, Sam and Colby pulled you down the hallway. They stopped right outside a door tucked away from the stairs. If someone came up, they would see you. Your heart raced at the idea alone.

Colby leaned his back against the wall as you looked around the corner, glancing at the stairs nervously. He rolled his eyes, pulling you against him. "Baby, you have nothing to worry about. You're with us. When have we ever gotten caught?"

You glared up at him, annoyed. "You literally have a rap sheet that proves you don't know how to hide."

"Someone's feeling bratty tonight..." Sam joked playfully, leaning across from you and Colby.

You gazed at him over your shoulder, brows furrowed. "I'm just worried about someone finding out about us. God knows how the fans would react if they knew..."

Colby's finger lightly turned your chin so that you were looking at him. "Knew about what? That we both love to play with our girlfriend, and now we're trying it out in public?"

You stuttered, the lustful glint in Colby's eye making you blush. "Y-yes. Exactly that."

Colby pouted. "But I thought you loved when we both touched you."

"And tasted you..." Sam replied, sounding closer.

Colby leaned his face in, getting close to yours. "And fucked y-"

You cut him off, slapping his chest. "That's not the issue I have. It's the getting caught part. Or someone seeing us."

"But that's what's fun about this," Sam turned you around to face him, Colby's hands still resting low on your hips. "You're getting fucked as a party is being thrown downstairs in our honor. And if anyone tries to find us, they'll see us all up here... with you. So we gotta make sure we don't get caught."

"Especially since no one is allowed up here." You mentioned again.

"Well, we're allowed up here. No one else is." Colby informed.

Your face scrunched up, "I thought the owner said-"

"The owner can suck my dick. If I want to fuck my girlfriend in a house I'm renting out for a party, I'm gonna do it wherever I want to." Colby ranted.

"Excuse me." Sam raised an eyebrow, a light glare thrown at Colby.

"Right, my bad, Sam. Our girlfriend." Colby responded, smiling.

Sam sighed, "Much better."

"Speaking of...." Colby slid his hand under your skirt, pressing your damp panties against your swollen sex. "Our girlfriend is very wet."

You gasped, your body arching against Colby's. He exhaled as your ass grinded into his crotch. His breath was hot against your neck, raising goosebumps across your cool skin.

Sam's eyes danced up your body, studying it as Colby kneaded your clit slowly. Sam hummed when his gaze reached your face, his voice low, "What am I gonna do with you?"

"Kiss me." You shuddered, grabbing his shirt lightly and tugging him closer.

"She's so aggressive when she's needy." Colby chuckled darkly, applying pressure to his movements.

Sam nodded, leaning in and kissing you tenderly. You could barely breathe to begin with but having Sam's mouth on yours and Colby's fingers on your clit, you felt yourself get lightheaded. It was so overwhelming already, and they barely had done anything to you. God, or the devil himself, only knew what they had in store for you.

As Sam's tongue glided into your mouth, tangling with yours, Colby moved your panties out of the way and slid two fingers inside of you, pumping them at an achingly slow pace. Your breath hitched, a moan falling from your lips. Lucky for you, it was muffled by Sam's mouth.

"What did we say, baby girl? You can’t be too loud. And we know how loud you can get." Sam teased.

"Even with the music playing, they would be able to hear her." Colby sneered jokingly.

"Is that what you want? To get caught? To have all of our friends know you're being fucked by us? That you're needy for us?" Sam grunted, his lips brushing yours as he spoke.

"I think that's what she wants. She loves to pretend to be such a good girl, but in reality, she's bad." Colby snickered into your ear quietly. "She's a little slut for us."

"Our slutty little girlfriend who can't stop herself from moaning when we touch her." Sam closed the space between you two, gripping your chin so that your eyes were looking into his piercing blues. "You're so pathetic and horny, aren't you?"

You shook your head, a whimper falling from your lips as Colby slid another finger in. You bit your lip hard to not make a noise, knowing it wasn't doing much to help.

"We might have to cover her mouth, since she can't listen." Colby hissed mischievously, biting your neck softly.

"I know the perfect way to do that." Sam placed the tips of his index and middle finger against your lips, "Open." Your lips fell open instantly, and he snaked them in, resting them against your tongue. "Suck."

You immediately started sucking his fingers, whining around them and bobbing your head up and down. Sam growled lowly at the sensation of you sucking off his fingers. He pushed himself closer to you, sandwiching you in between him and Colby completely. You couldn't have escaped their hold if you wanted it, and you definitely didn't want to.

"Her mouth feels amazing, Colby. You'll have to give it a try soon." Sam closed his tightly, focusing on the feeling.

"I remember how good she feels, trust me." Colby leaned down, pressing his lips to your ear, "You always need something in your mouth, don't you darling? You can't help but want to suck on something. On one of us."

Colby's fingers sped up, a groan deep within your throat rocketed out, stifled by Sam's fingers. You kept grinding your ass against Colby, who now was hard in his leather pants. He followed your movements, his hips pressing hard into you. Your hand gripped his wrist, clinging onto the hand that was fucking you. Your other hand held Sam close as your nails dug into his back.

"Are you getting close, baby girl? Do you want to come?" Sam barked.

You mewled, nodding your head desperately. Sam tsked, leaning his forehead against yours. "Not yet, baby. I think you need a bit more help."

His other hand drifted down, stopping right above your clit. He teased you for a moment, the tip of his finger brushing across it ever so gently. Your body shook and both boys laughed.

Colby feigned concern. "Aw Sam, c’mon now. You gotta be nice to her. She's not gonna make it."

"I guess we traded places this time, since you're the one that's always so mean to her." Sam quipped sassily.

Colby faux gasped, "Me? Being mean?" He leaned into your ear, whispering, "I'm not mean, am I love? You like when I treat you rough. I know you do, sweetheart."

You closed your eyes tight, trying to hold yourself back from exploding. Both of their motions were all too much for you, but you didn't want it to end just yet. You needed it to keep going. You just loved being theirs.

Sam pushed his lower half into his hand that was rubbing your clit, both boys now grinding against you. Their cocks were hard, and they were touching you in all the right places; you could feel your orgasm building up to its breaking point. You needed them to say you could let go. You weren't sure how much longer you could last.

"Feel how hard you've made us, baby girl. You want us inside of you? Wanna get filled up by us?" Sam rasped.

You whined and nodded mindlessly. You couldn't even form words if you want to.

"She's squeezing my fingers so tight. God, I can't wait to taste you, Y/N. You're getting so close..." Colby panted. "Maybe we should let her come."

"Only if she deserves it. Do you, baby? Do you deserve to come? Have you been good for us?" Sam taunted, staring into your eyes.

You moaned around his fingers in agreement, shaking your head again.

Sam bit his lip, glancing at Colby for a moment. "She has been following our demands very well. She made me hard just by sucking my fingers."

"You've been such a needy, good girl for us, haven't you? You take our fingers so well. Do you wanna come? Say you want to." Colby lowered his voice, "Use your words, love."

You choked around Sam's fingers, a 'I wanna come' mumbled through his digits.

Colby harshly snapped in your ear, "Who owns this cunt, darling?"

You grunted out a 'You do', eyes pleading with Sam to say you could let go.

Sam smirked, an almost evil glint in his eye. "I think she can come now. What about you, Colby?"

Colby paused, his fingers still moving at their fast pace. Your body was hot, sweat dripping down your back. Your face was flushed, and you felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for Colby to say the magic phrase.

He kissed right under your ear sweetly, his lips then pressed against you. "Come for us, baby."

You cried out around their fingers, your body spasming in ecstasy. Sam finger fucked your mouth, making sure your screams weren't heard over the music as he sped up his fingers on your clit. Colby kept the pace as you exploded around him, your juices running down your thighs. He cooed in your ear, speaking softly that you were a good girl, a good slut for them, and that you were so beautiful when you come.

Your pleasure slowly subsided, Sam and Colby resting against you and their motions still. They breathed with you, kissing along your neck and face as you relaxed.

You were about to say something when all three of you could hear someone walking up the stairs. Sam backed up, removing his hands from your mouth and clit. Colby spun you both around, facing the person coming up the stairs. It was a scramble to make sure you looked okay, and you weren't even sure if you did.

A tall man in an all-black suit, one of the security guards, looked down the hallway at you all. "Excuse me, you can't be up here."

"Uh, sorry about that. My girlfriend wasn't feeling too well and the line for the bathroom was kinda long so we figured she could come up here and use this one." Colby smiled, placing you in front of him to cover up his hard on.

"Are you feeling better now, miss?" The man asked, looking at you.

Sam cut you off, thankfully; since you weren't sure if you could even speak yet. He cupped his hands in front of his body, trying to cover himself up. "Yeah, she's good. We'll make sure she feels better later tonight, though. Just to be safe."

You glanced at Sam, and he gave you a little wink.

"Please follow me back downstairs to the party." The man stated.

You trudged down the hall towards the man, Sam and Colby following close behind. Once the man turned around, you could hear Sam smack Colby's arm, saying 'She's our girlfriend' to him. They bickered back and forth until you got to the bottom of the stairs.

Colby smacked your ass playfully, his voice loud enough for only you to hear, "Don’t go too far, Y/N. We're not done with you yet."

#sam and colby #sam and colby fanfiction #sam and colby fanfic #sam and colby fic #sam and colby smut #sam golbach fanfiction #sam golbach fanfic #sam golbach smut #sam golbach fic #colby brock fanfiction #colby brock fanfic #colby brock fic #colby brock smut #sam and colby x reader #sam golbach #colby brock

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itsclydebitches · 2 months

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Hazbin Hotel: Let's Talk About Cursing!

Trigger warning for lots of cursing in this post (obviously) and discussion of canon abuse scenes

As I delve further into the Hazbin Hotel fandom, I’ve inevitably come across a variety of people who dislike the show for an equal variety of reasons. One criticism I’ve seen with some consistency is in regards to the cursing and yeah, I get it. That’s not going to be everyone’s cup of tea. However, the repeated claim that the cursing is only there as a—failed—attempt at bad, lazy humor got me thinking about why I personally liked the cursing, and why I think it serves a greater purpose in the show.

Now yes, some of the cursing does function as an arguably simplistic joke. The most common setup I’ve noticed is one that leans into a contrast in tone/personalities. We see this a lot with the polite, comparatively timid Charlie as she navigates her distinctly vulgar domain.

Charlie: “Hi, mister!” Demon: “Go fuck yourself!”

The entirety of “Happy Day in Hell” plays with this contrast, setting up Charlie’s slightly skewed, but significantly optimistic perspective of Hell. We are shown again and again how her lyrics are contradicted or twisted into something less innocent through the visuals: a “revealing” street where it’s “hard not to stare” has BDSM going on in a nearby window, Charlie will “open the door” for her people and then literally does so... for a guy who’s already dead. (Or, you know, temporarily out of commission until he heals, or whatever demons do when they’re ‘killed’ by things other than angelic steel.) The entire point here is to contrast the happy, skipping girl claiming that there’s a “warm, fuzzy feeling” in the air with the actual environment of unchecked fires and decaying limbs. And yes, that can be amusing. Not necessarily for everyone as humor is highly subjective and dependent on context, but distilling this contrast down to the shock of a polite greeting getting a “Go fuck yourself!” in response is a kind of entertainment. Especially when Charlie’s reaction adds another layer: for me that’s a very funny—and currently relatable—expression.

We can potentially make the case that this humor format overstays its welcome, but I personally think the show does a good job of keeping Charlie’s cursing both simple and comparatively rare, so that when she is put into these contrast situations the humor lands better. The best example I can think of in the latter half of the show is Susan. There we get the whiplash of polite, trying-to-get-these-people-to-like-her Charlie reaching a breaking point to become “FUCK YOU, YOU OLD BITCH” Charlie. It’s a moment that builds off of the earlier surprise of the courteous Alastor calling someone an “Ornery old bitch”—while Rosie is trying (and failing) to find a nicer way to phrase this.

However, as stated above I think the cursing serves more of a purpose than to just be funny for (some) viewers. Beyond those who simply find cursing distasteful, I’ve seen a fair bit of, “This is so stupid. No one even talks like that!” going around.

Except... I do? I talk like that.

See, I like cursing. I was born to former hippie parents and grew up playing MMOs, so cursing was something I became pretty acclimated to. Personally, I’m glad I was because I’m fascinated by language and cursing—for better or worse—is an integral way that many people communicate. I was taught to see cursing not as the Bad Forbidden Thing You Must Never Ever Do, but rather as just another form of expression, something to be used in moderation and under specific circumstances. Once I became an adult I already understood how I wanted to curse and when it was appropriate to do so. People at work are often shocked when I tell them I curse a lot because no, of course I’m not doing that at my job. That isn't considered professional in this space. Among my friends though?

We can sound a lot like the Hazbin crew.

Undoubtedly the most common curse in the show is “fuck” and its variations, which very much tracks with my personal experience among other people who curse. In fact, it’s so ubiquitous that it barely counts as a curse at all in some groups. It’s more of an easy, accepted way to add emphasis. Vaggie’s “What the fuck was that?” about Alastor’s commercial is a perfect example. She’s pissed and simply saying “What was that?” doesn’t carry the same weight, no matter how angry she may sound when she says it. Vox’s long “Fuuuuuuuck” at the end of “Stayed Gone” conveys an emotion you just can’t capture any other way. No dialogue at all would create a fundamentally different experience of Vox’s feelings and another non-cursing response is just gonna hit different. Not necessarily bad, just different.

“I don’t want to go to the party!” “I don’t want to go to the freaking party!” “I don’t want to go to the fucking party!”

The above represents three distinct characters to me and I think Hazbin Hotel gets that. Cursing isn’t thrown around randomly because something something cursing supposedly sells; it’s all linguistically logical. Characters curse when something surprising or bad happens, or when something unexpectedly good happens, when they’re angry, trying to be sexy, or they want to add that emphasis. That’s a lot of different situations where cursing can be useful and when you use “fuck” in your daily life a lot you become pretty desensitized to it. As said, for many it’s barely a curse at all. Which means that when you really want to curse you’ve got to up the ante. It doesn’t surprise me one bit that the two uses of “cunt” I can recall—a word that is generally considered far worse than “fuck” and makes a lot of people understandably uncomfortable—is used by two of the worst characters in moments that are meant to horrify the viewer:

Adam: “Can’t wait a whole year to slaughter those little cunts / I know it’s just been a week, but we’ll be back in six months!” Valentino: “When I say you’d better get that fucking cunt out of my studio, you say...?”

This horror is especially emphasized in Valentino’s scene. The creators know this word is coming up and deliberately build towards it. Angel is currently being abused and has been reminded that Valentino “owns” him. The above question is a part of a trio that Valentino asks (a standard structure in writing), wherein the third option is the outlier/most shocking of the three. The animation leans into that shock, with the music building and Valentino grabbing Angel to pull him close right on the word “cunt.” Perez even puts emphasis there because he knows that this is a significant word that will change our understanding of Valentino.

Despite having hit Angel multiple times and taunting him with the contract, this is the moment Valentino stops playing the ‘nice’ employer. This is the real him. No more fake compliments and endearments aimed at Charlie, no more fake comfort/intimacy aimed at Angel. That “cunt” conveys a hell of a lot about how Valentino really sees them and when you have a cast of characters who are already cursing on the regular, it takes a word on that level to do that kind of work. If Valentino had said, “get that fucking bitch out of my studio” it wouldn’t have had nearly the same impact because he’s the kind of guy who uses "bitch" even when playing ‘nice.’

Adam’s line from “Hell is Forever” does very similar work. The scene needs a word to align with the horrific reveal that another extermination is just six months away, that conveys Adam’s deep disgust for Charlie’s people, and that still catches the viewer’s attention even though he’s the character (I believe) who curses the most. Here the music drops and Adam is a little closer to speaking than singing; there's this shift because, like with Valentino, our perception of him is shifting. This isn’t just some egotistical idiot who wants to be called “Dick Master,” he’s the leader of an army coming to gleefully kill them. Framing a whole world of people—people Charlie loves—as “cunts” while treating their murder as a holiday that can’t come soon enough creates an, 'Oh shit. This guy is actually a threat' understanding that you can’t quite get with anything else.

On a smaller scale, cursing does other character work throughout the whole show. I watched a number of cursing compilation vids for this meta (that was a trip lol) and again, cursing is not thrown in randomly. Each character has a unique way of cursing that aligns with their personality and motivations:

As said, Adam curses the most in the show which helps sell his truly over-the-top, irreverent personality. Linguistically, the amount he curses also allows for some fun grammatical play. Lines like, “Fucking love putting my name on shit, shit’s the best!” help convey the versatility of cursing.

Also as said, Charlie curses a fair bit but she’s comparatively polite and her cursing tends to be a result of genuinely big emotions—like saying “Crap” when she’s shocked and falls, or “Shit!” when Adam locks her out of the room—rather than sprinkled into her conversations as a modifier. That leaves space to create those moments of amused surprise when Charlie really let’s loose.

Sr Pentious curses even less than Charlie which fits his secretly gooey center. He talks a big game at the start of the show, but he’s actually quite bad at being, well, bad (especially the Amazon version compared to pilot!Pentious). His idea of getting one over on Alastor is ripping a bit of his coat. He loves his Egg Bois and “doesn’t want to live” without them. He has no desire to go into battle without minions/a big machine to hide behind and, of course, he’s the first to be redeemed. He's too much of a secret sweetheart to curse a lot.

Interestingly, Niffty doesn’t seem to curse at all. At least, not enough for me to think of examples off the top of my head. Right now I’m inclined to read that as an extension of her lived experiences/design—the cute 1950’s housewife archetype who is obsessed with keeping things clean doesn’t [gasp!] curse—as well as a way to maintain her legitimate creep factor. As said, cursing is common among the hotel residents and is a way for them to linguistically fit in. Niffty, however, is positioned more as an outsider (despite how much they all obviously love her): she’s actually scary in a way most demons aren’t and despite how weird this whole world is, she stands out as someone no one else can make sense of (even Alastor). If cursing is normal, Niffty is a character who is decidedly positioned as not normal.

Angel curses a fair bit, though his irreverence is conveyed more through innuendos. Angel is great at verbally twisting others’ words (especially Husk’s) to give himself a conversational advantage:

Husk: “Go fuck yourself” Angel: “Only if you watch me~”

Husk: “You’ve come—” Angel: [very loud orgasm noise] Husk: “...to the right place.”

Meanwhile, Husk uses “fuck” plenty, but he’s also one of the few characters who use “bullshit" too. I wouldn’t say there’s anything particularly revealing about that choice, but just giving him a go-to curse that’s otherwise used infrequently helps make his character distinct in a cast of other cursing characters.

Vaggie occasionally curses in Spanish, showing us her heritage if she used to be human, or a distinct knowledge/verbal preference if she’s always been an angel.

Heaven, as the ‘good’ side, doesn’t curse as a general rule, which leaves room for cursing to do more of that silent character work. We’re reminded of the stuffy, overly critical beings she’s dealing with when Charlie receives the combined judgement of the court for saying, “Fuck yeah!” In contrast, we understand just how shocked St. Peter is to see a Morningstar when he lets out an unintentional “Fuck!” The angry vindication of Charlie’s “That’s what the fuck I’ve been saying!” lands harder after multiple scenes of very little cursing, and Lute’s “Some crack-whore who fucked up already? / He blew his shot like the cocks in his mouth—” helps set her apart as an exorcist + Adam's second in command: her shocking violence comes through in her word choice too; words that supposedly don't belong in Heaven.

In what’s arguably the funniest line in the whole show, Lucifer undermines his dramatic standoff with Adam by going, “You mess with my daughter and now I’m going to fuck you.” Beyond just cutting the tension, that fits his bumbling, oblivious personality perfectly. Lucifer is crazy powerful and can absolutely wreck Adam. He also has none of the classy intimidation that, say, Alastor displays when he tries to convey that. This is a depressed himbo who makes ducks in his free time and settles on, “Hey, bitch!” when greeting his estranged daughter. Of course he’s going to accidentally turn a threat into a promise of sex.

Which finally brings me to Alastor, someone whose cursing is already understood well by the fandom. He’s characterized as manipulatively courteous, using manners to both hide his true nature and draw attention to his power—’You’re so beneath me I’ll just calmly sip my coffee and politely ask who you are, despite the fact that we've fought multiple times.’ This is a guy who calls people “My dear” and unironically insults them with the phrase “wacky nonsense.” So when he curses you can BET it’s gonna have an impact. It sure did for me. I had to pause the episode after Alastor’s first “Fuck you” because it was so shocking to hear that language from him. And that’s the point! The scene wants that reaction from the audience. The "Fuck you"s visceral anger contrasting the fake laughs he and Lucifer have been giving, the quick-fire exchange that’s suddenly cut short by Alastor’s choice of a direct insult, the fact that he’s officially dropping the polite veneer they’ve both been indulging in and raising the stakes before Charlie intervenes, the loss of the radio filter that otherwise demonstrates his control over a situation... all of it screams, ‘THIS IS AN IMPORTANT CHARACTER MOMENT.’

"Fuck you” reveals that, for the first time in the show, Alastor is legitimately threatened by someone. Which makes sense given that, you know, Lucifer is the King of Hell. Cursing for Alastor isn’t normal, so when he does curse it’s going to reveal something about a guy who otherwise is obsessed with being unknowable. Having the King of Hell dismiss him is actually infuriating in a way Sir Pentious’ threats could never be and the exchange kicks off a rivalry that rattles Alastor in ways Vox’s never has. (Side note: is it any wonder people ship them? Character A making control freak Character B feel vulnerable is classic!) It’s no surprise to me than that the one other true curse we get from Alastor is, “I’m about to end your fucking life,” delivered to Adam who, like Lucifer, poses a legitimate threat and does end up beating him. I say “true” curse because calling Susan a “bitch” does similar work for him, but the takeaway is humorous rather than dramatic. It’s funny that the only people who can piss Alastor off enough to curse are the First Man/a powerful exorcist angel threatening his life, the literal King of Hell... and Susan.

So there’s a lot going on here, more than what many viewers might assume if they approach the show as just “stupid,” needlessly vulgar entertainment. As shown above, I don’t think the cursing is needless, especially given that, well... they’re in Hell. They’re sinners, supposedly the worst that humanity has to offer, so of course they're going to curse a lot. Does cursing mean you’re a bad person? No. Can you craft a hellish world that doesn't rely on cursing to convey a group's immoral nature? Sure.

Does it make sense that a writer would equate a sinful, irreverent cast with linguistic rebellion and would want to convey a certain vibe that, frankly, you just can’t get without dropping an F bomb?

Yeah, I think so. No one has to like that kind of creative decision, but it’s worth acknowledging it as a deliberate choice.

That’s all! Thanks for reading this fucking long post ✌️

#Hazbin Hotel #Hazbin Hotel meta #mymetas #tw cursing #cw cursing #tw abuse #cw abuse

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 4 months

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AITA for talking about my fights with my partner with other people?

I (18M) and my partner (17NB) have been together for a couple of years now. Like most couples, we've had our fair share of fights, some of them very serious. I have a problem with paranoia over if I'm doing the right thing or not, because I have trouble understanding right and wrong unless I've been through a situation myself or had the morality of it very heavily explained to me. Because of this, during several of our heavier fights, I would go to people that I trusted and show them the conversation from beginning to end through screenshots (me and my partner are long distance at the moment, so most of our fights have been over text), and ask them if I was alright or I was being a dick.

However, over time, this caused most of the people I was close to to hate my partner. Several of them believed my partner was abusive or at least toxic because of the fights they saw, and at least one was outright violently angry towards them, publicly making a post about wanting to hurt them (I apologized to my partner for this, and asked repeatedly that this person take the post down, made it very clear I wasn't okay with that, but they kept it up anyways.)

I tried to change their opinions by highlighting positive things about them, and repeatedly making clear the things I knew I had done wrong to them so it was clear any toxicity wasn't one-sided (please don't even try to question if I was really bad or anything like that. Had it happen before. Yes what I did was actually wrong. I have apologized and been working on it for a long time now, and debating if it was really wrong will not be helpful or wanted.) But even so, even now, everyone who knew even parts of me and my partners problems still hate them.

My partner has made clear to me that this hurt them. It made them feel isolated, and very alone. Because I had people backing me up and people to talk to, and those people hated them, while they didn't have access to therapy (which I also had at the time, and also do now) or people to talk to about it at the time.

I've apologized for that, and long since stopped telling anyone about our fights or problems. Partially because I found out it was hurting them, and partially because a few months after I had started doing that in the first place, things took a turn for the worse in our relationship and I always either didn't feel comfortable showing people what was happening anymore, or when I did, I ended up being asked to stop by the people I spoke to because what was going on was too heavy and often triggering for them to handle, which I respected. I also didn't have access to therapy for a while because I had just made a major move and my old therapist wasn't licensed to treat people in the area I'd moved to.

However, more recently, I opened up to both my therapist and my mother about everything that happened. Unlike with before, both of them got the full story, from the start of our relationship to now. I made sure to include everything I had done wrong (that I either figured out on my own or my partner told me about, I do worry that there's other things that I don't even know about yet) so that I didn't paint myself in a better light than reality. My therapist cried when I told her. Not full on crying or sobbing, but I could see the tears in her eyes the entire session. My mother was very angry. Both of them think it's for the best we break up. My therapist agreed it's toxic, which I know it still is, although I've been doing my best to make the relationship more healthy over time. She didn't outright say the words, but when I told her what my mother had to say about it, it was clear that she agreed with her that it was abusive. She wasn't angry the way my mother was, or as insistent about me breaking up with them, but she didn't think this relationship or this person in general was healthy towards me.

My mother, however, was almost violently angry. There was several parts of the story where she clenched her fists or had to pause to calm down. On top of that, when I brought up my partners disorder (it was heavily relevant to a large part of the story, as knowing they had it was necessary to really explain what happened for many parts of it), she started repeatedly telling me that she believed they're faking to manipulate me, and that "based on her years of research that wasn't how the disorder worked" (her "years of research" was an introductory college psych class over a decade ago, which barely mentions the disorder in question, so I don't trust that at all). This made me worry even more that I was being an asshole by sharing this, because I know firsthand how much it sucks to have someone not believe you about your own mental health. Not to mention, I have a similar disorder myself, so it felt wrong the way she talked about their disorder (I brought this up but she said it was different and she believes me, just not them. I'm pretty sure that's mostly because I'm diagnosed, and they aren't, due to not being able to get therapy). She also wouldn't believe they didn't have access to therapy because they live in a place with free healthcare, and didn't seem to understand that doesn't always apply to mental healthcare, especially when they're a minor and their parent won't get them therapy even when asked.

However, the reactions from both my mother and my therapist has made me start to question if telling people about our fights was really an asshole move in the first place. On the one hand, I know it hurt them, and that I hurt them in other ways on top of that. But on the other, if even middle aged adults, including one with a psychology degree, think it's so bad on their end, maybe telling them was a good thing. I don't want anyone to hate my partner, especially not when I know I was also toxic towards them and I don't feel like it's fair to treat them like they're so much worse than me, especially when my partner has said to me that I abused them (this was also shared to mother + therapist). But the way these recent events have gone have left me confused, and feeling like a giant asshole towards my partner all over again. So am I one for this?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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salty-croissants · 7 months

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Bullfrog and Rayman x g/n reader : comfort after a long day

As a massive lover of tooth rotting fluff , my first post on this blog just had to be something cute for my favorite boys !

I should specify that writing for me is just a silly hobby , so it might not be very good … plus some moments might be ooc , so I apologize in advance for that .

Now then , let’s get to it !

Details : established relationships , fluff , no trigger warning needed

Bullfrog 💚

Okay , so … I think we should specify that this tiny assassin man absolutely adores you , and he’s grown to know you so well that he can immediately pick up signals of you not feeling at your best : just the way you enter the room he’s in is enough for Bullfrog to realize that something isn’t quite right .

He really doesn’t want to invade your boundaries , but at the same time he really hates to see you looking so sad and tired , so eventually Bullfrog will timidly approach you and ask if something happened …

< y/n , mon cher … is everything alright ? Do you want to talk about it ? >

If the answer is yes , Bullfrog will gladly sit down and listen to you for as long as you need , offering you words of comfort and appreciation with that cute accent of his that always manages to make you smile … but he also perfectly understands if you’d rather not discuss the matter right now : Bullfrog is always happy to be with you , even if it’s just sitting next to each other in silence .

If you’re into physical affection Bullfrog is going to be more than happy to hold you in his arms , regardless how tall you are , giving you sweet little kisses and just enjoying the feeling of having you close to him … he just loves you so much ://)

< Pfft - Bullfrog , that tickles ! >

< Heh , you’re so adorable mon amour … I could stare at that beautiful smile forever ~ >

Rayman 🧡

Similarly to Bullfrog , Rayman is also able to understand fairly quickly if you’re feeling down about something , and despite how busy he often is with his shows he will do all he can to find moments where he can spend time with you : voice of Eden or not , his partner is still what matters most .

Rayman is ready to do anything he can possibly do to help you feel better : wanna go somewhere special ? He will take you there immediately . Wanna just relax and get some rest ? He will be more than happy to just spend some time with you at his lounge , looking at the city lights outside the window while holding each other close … anything feels special to Rayman as long as you’re there .

If you ever feel insecure about yourself , Rayman is quick to put your worries at ease …

< y/n , you’re literally everything I could ever ask for … I wouldn’t be this happy with anyone else , and this is just a fact . You’re just … wonderful , wonderful in every way . >

He will then proceed to shower you with affection , demonstrating his point even further : you really do mean everything to him , and no matter how many adoring fans he has you will always be the only one who could make him feel this way .

Rayman feels bad whenever he is obligated to stop spending time with you to get back on stage ( the Board of Directors constantly monitors their show host to keep an eye on him at all times ) , but he always makes sure to not stay away for too long …

< Sorry love … it’d be amazing to be with you for a little while longer but … >

< It’s okay Ray , I understand . You’re gonna do great tonight , I just know it . >

< Thanks y/n … I’ll be back soon , I promise : we haven’t finished our cuddling session after all ~ >

He then always remembers to give you a loving kiss before heading out , and as you watch him leave you can’t help but feel lucky to have someone like Rayman in your life .

#x reader #captain laserhawk #captain lazerhawk bullfrog #captain laserhawk bullfrog #bullfrog captain laserhawk #bullfrog x reader #captain lazerhawk rayman #rayman #rayman x reader

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jakeyt · 7 months

Text

Covet: Chapter 8 (Part 1 of 2)

Pairing: Jake Kiszka x f!Reader

Covet Summary:

Life was good. No, life was great.

Was.

Until.

Jake Kiszka crashed into the picture.

You welcomed him into your life—your home.

Yes, he was your best friend’s twin. But, he was also the one who would end up disrupting your whole world with his attitude, his troubles, and the annoyingly natural way he lured you in.

Jake Kiszka came with so much you really didn’t want.

At least that’s what you tried to convince yourself.

Warnings: MINORS DNI (18+); smut (!!); unprotected sex (p in v); vivid recollection of forgotten childhood trauma; feelings of betrayal; jealousy; anxiety; panic attacks; mentions of therapy; mentions of an absent parent; sam is an idiot; abandonment issues; light mention of being under the influence of weed (lmk if i missed anything that is triggering to you!)

Chapter Word Count: 16.6k+

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: much to my disdain, this chapter has to be chopped in half. :((( ugh. the last part of this chapter has been a mf monster to write, and since i already finished up this entire first half today (a little more than half, actually), i figured i might as well post it. so, without further ado, here is the first part of chapter 8. . .

thank u to my girls @joshym & @alwaysonthemend for putting up w my ass. you two are the realest aaaand ilysm 😭

Please enjoy the playlist as you read 🖤

-🌼🌼🌼-

Two Weeks Later

Friday, August 26, 2022

The wound-up ball of tension in your tummy was about to let loose.

His thrusts were getting desperate, his heavy breaths were mixing with yours. And you couldn’t help but look between you, where your bodies met. . . it made your heart beat even more rapidly in your chest, seeing you connected in such a way. It looked so right. You felt full. You felt whole. In your drug-induced haze, your thoughts couldn’t help but wander as you thought of the final step to feeling close to him.

Fuck.

As soon as the thought entered your brain, you had to throw your head back in ecstasy. It was almost too much to imagine.

Your mind was so fucking cloudy– nothing sounded better in that moment than to feel him fully.

You wanted it. Needed it. And you knew this time might very well be the last. And you had to feel him in that way. Just once. You’d get a Plan-fucking-B in the morning. It was worth it to feel him in that way.

Just this once. This one last time. It would be the perfect ending to this beautiful chapter of your life.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Present Day

Saturday, August 13, 2022

“Yeah. Not too bad,” you shook your head, as if it were nothing. But you knew your expression was still sunken and weird.

He studied your face for a bit after you’d spoken, his expression said he wanted you to say more.

But you weren’t going to, and he knew it.

“What if I make you dinner, then we watch a movie or something?” He requested, his brow raising at the prospect.

He’d do what now? Your tummy did somersaults at the idea of him taking care of you. . .and especially like that. Cooking for you?

Surely he had an ulterior motive.

“What do you want in return?” You asked suspiciously, your tears evaporating as you squinted at him.

“What do you mean?”

“You want sex after you cook me dinner or something? An even trade?”

He blanched at that, drawing his head back a bit to observe you. “Even trade?” He scoffed, scratching his chin. “What the fuck even happens inside that brain of yours, y/n?”

Going into defense mode, you placed your hands on your hips to square up. “I’m still learning you, Jake. I don’t know what to expect from you.”

“The worst, per usual,” he said, rolling his eyes and flicking at the tip of his nose with his index. “Your favorite thing to assume about me is the worst. Always.”

“Not true,” you scoffed, flushing. He wasn’t wrong. . .you were regularly unfair towards him. But. . . “You haven’t exactly been trustworthy the entire time I’ve known you. Think back.”

“I don’t have to. I know I was an asshole and I wish like hell that I could take it back,” he revealed, sending earnest eyes your way, swiping a sweet thumb across your cheek, taking time to appreciate your left cheekbone. Then, he moved to bashfully tuck his hair behind his ears, taking a moment to untie the hair tie from his finger to pull his hair into a bun. “I’m sorry about that, by the way.”

You got momentarily sidetracked by watching the action of him pulling his hair up, suddenly wanting nothing more than to run your fingers through it, just as you liked to do.

Then you noticed him, waiting for a response as you drew your eyes from him.

Clearing your throat, you refocused your thoughts. “Don’t worry about it,” you brushed off, not wanting to harp on it for too long, for fear of putting your foot in your mouth. “It’s whatever. Really.”

“No, it’s not. I wasn’t kind to you at the beginning, and I’m sorry,” he continued, looking you directly in the eye, showing sincerity in his deep brown irises. “I was going through a lot and took it out on you and that wasn’t fair.”

Nodding, you took the bait. “You’re right. It wasn’t fair. But,” you walked a couple steps forward, closer to him. Then, reaching a hand out, you held the side of his face. Suddenly, it didn’t matter what an ass he’d been before. He’d proven that he wasn’t truly like that. And you understood hurt feelings making a person act irrationally. “I get it. I’ve been through some shit, too, and I reacted in ways I shouldn’t have.” Smirking, you looked past him and thought back to your therapy sessions from years ago, reciting a few of your counselor’s words that’d stuck with you. “‘All that matters is that you see it, own it, and then grow from it.’ That’s what my therapist always told me when I was a kid, anyway.”

Swiveling your eyes back up to see his expression, your heart skipped a beat. His eyes had softened significantly at your vulnerability, seeming to take your words in. His eyebrows dipped and lips tilted in concentration.

It always took you by surprise just how much his eyes showed his emotions. And how interested he always seemed in the things you would say.

“Very wise words,” was his response before he reached out to grip your bicep, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Then he was moving towards the kitchen, calling back to you. “I’m gonna go make some stir fry. Chicken?”

You watched him leave, wanting to follow him wherever he went.

But you didn’t.

After responding in agreement to his suggestion, you made your way to the bathroom to take a quick shower and wind down before dinner.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The next morning, you woke up, curled in a fluffy pallet of blankets on the floor.

Both of you, still in sweats. You, in a t-shirt, him, wearing no shirt (fuck yeah).

No sex had happened the night before. Jake’d thought it would be a good idea to do dinner and a movie, but you’d had the bright idea to make a pile of blankets to lay on to watch the movies. And, of course, you’d let yourself fall asleep next to him.

And. . . As much as you knew you shouldn’t admit it, it was fucking wonderful just falling asleep next to him. The act was so domestic that it should scare you. . . But all it did was make you want more.

More you couldn’t have.

But for now, you’d pretend you could.

Your head was resting on the same pillow as Jake’s, abandoning yours in your sleep for the sake of being closer to him.

Though, rather than pulling yourself away, you did the complete opposite. You rolled onto your belly and wrapped yourself around him, one arm over his abdomen, a hand splayed on his chest and one of your legs tangled between his.

You knew it wasn’t a good idea to let yourself feel so tied to him in the midst of your sadness. It completely abandoned the idea of not being emotionally dependent on him. . .

But you also weren’t so oblivious to not see that you’d broken a few rules already.

And, after your anxiety attack (because that’s exactly what it had been) last night, you decided it was better to just let yourself have this time with him now and not worry too much about the rules.

Rather than stressing about making sure you were following every fucking rule, you figured it would be worth it to appreciate the time you still did have with him. Because this wasn’t going to last forever, you felt it was a good idea to make the most of it while you could.

It was going to be gone soon (too soon), and you weren’t going to take for granted the time you had left.

So, when you woke up, instead of immediately initiating sex, you took time to admire him.

You propped your chin on the hand you’d put on his chest. Trying to memorize every freckle on his handsome face, tilted to the side, perfect for your line of sight. You studied him . . .his features, sharp, yet delicate. His tanned skin was perfectly sunkissed from spending the day in the sun at Sam’s AirBnb. His pretty lips, partially open like always. . .

You’d learned that he didn’t snore a bunch. But, every now and then, like this morning, he’d let out the occasional, slight snore in his sleep.

Usually, snoring of any kind annoyed you. Elsie was the worst snorer in the history of all mankind, and it always aggravated you. And any man you’d ever slept with who did it was always immediately woken up and kicked out of your bed.

But when Jake did it, it was nothing but endearing to you. It was something that he did that just made him him.

You pressed your body closer to his- he was so warm. It felt so overwhelmingly natural to be so close to him.

You watched the way his eyes fluttered behind his eyelids as he slept, wondering what he dreamt about. Did he dream? And were they vivid like yours?

Then, you absentmindedly ran a thumb lightly against his cheek, mesmerized by how soft his skin felt beneath your fingertips.

Just as your pointer finger went to trace the cupid’s bow on his upper lip, he started stirring, showing telling signs of waking up. You stopped yourself before he could possibly wake up with your damn finger on his lip.

Don’t want him to think I’m a fucking weirdo, you thought, resting your hand, again, on his chest. And I definitely don’t want him to know I was watching him sleep either. That would be embarrassing as hell.

This time, you laid your cheek on top of it, deciding to feign sleep for the duration of time it would take for him to wake up.

Not too long after, you felt a big breath lift your hand, then you heard his voice.

“I know when you’re watching me,” he commented, his voice deep from just having woken up.

You didn’t say anything, just lifted your head, an apologetic look on your face as you opened one eye at him in defeat.

He had a soft smile resting on his lips.

“It’s cute,” he said, reassuring you, sitting up a bit underneath you to lean his head against the couch, balancing on an elbow. He reached a hand up to come gently through your hair with his fingers.

“You don’t think it’s weird?”

He shook his head, his face thoughtful as he continued to look at you. “Not at all,” he replied. Then, a smirk grew on his lips. “The morning after we fell asleep in your bed—.”

“What?”

He raised a brow, as if to say ‘really?’ “When you fell asleep on the couch, I got you to lay down and try to sleep. Then, you yelled at me from your room—effectively freaking me out, by the way—and then asked me to sleep with you?”

You blushed, feeling stupid that you momentarily forgot. “Oh. Yeah.”

He raised his brows with a hum, the same grin appearing on his lips again. “I watched you the morning after. You slept later than me that morning, and I was so glad you did,” he watched his movements as he tucked a lock of bed-head hair behind your ear.

“Why?”

“Because you look so fucking ethereal when you sleep,” he said. “Not that you don’t all the time. . .but when you sleep? Dammit, you just look so peaceful. And I love that you feel that peace in those moments. Not all of the stress.”

It was your turn to hum in response, completely caught off guard by his kind words. You didn’t know why it still did surprise you to hear him say such things. It wasn’t out of character to hear sweet things leave his mouth, but it still felt like a gentle surprise anytime he did say something like that.

Then, something in your heart told you to open up. Let him in.

And so, without considering anything else, you did.

“You know, I don’t always sleep peacefully,” you commented, your hand now tracing circles on his chest. “That’s a sort of new thing. Good dreams. Peaceful sleep.”

His brow raised, questioning your words.

“I haven’t always been able to sleep so well,” you started, apprehensively. But when his hand kept combing through your hair, and his eyes opened up to learn more, you decided it was safe. He was safe. You could share this. “There are things that happened in my past that caused a hell of a lot of pain, and for as long as I can remember, I’ve carried those painful things into my sleep with me. They’ve haunted me. Another thing my childhood therapist confirmed. The trauma caused me to have restless, terrible sleep.” You paused, remembering some of the nights you were too scared to be alone, sobbing and screaming in your bed, crying for help. Your eyes naturally watered at the memories, your voice wet with your next words. “Some fucking terrifying nightmares.”

You sniffled, trying to alleviate the oncoming tears. You didn’t want to cry in front of him two days in a row. But, here you were. Jake brushed more hair behind your ear, then put that arm behind his head to lean up. The other strong arm wrapped protectively around your waist. He massaged shapes with his thumb, into the hip he held.

Your eyes closed on their own, relishing the feeling of him reacting so gently to you.

They reopened when you heard him clear his throat. His deep chocolate irises were shadowed with concern. “You don’t have to talk about it,” he pointed out, continuing to rub your waist. “I don’t want you to feel obligated to tell me anything that may hurt you.”

You considered his words for a few seconds, but ultimately decided what you wanted to do.

“I want to tell you.”

“Okay. I want to listen.”

You’d only ever opened up about all of this to Elsie (because she was there), and then Josh when you became his friend. But the urge to tell Jake about all of it was far too overwhelming to ignore. It felt as though you had to tell him.

“Where do I even begin?” You pondered aloud. “What do you want to know?”

He hummed, smooshing his lips together in thought for a few seconds, squinting his eyes in thought as he peered up to the ceiling. You tapped your fingers against his chest, waiting for his input.

“When did the bad dreams start? Can you pinpoint an age or anything?”

“After my mom left,” you replied, curling further into his body.

He accepted your motion, encompassing you, keeping you close.

“How old were you?”

“I was ten. Left me sitting on the front porch as she left in a string of curse words. . . Blaming Els and me for all of it,” you stared into the space just past his head, thinking back on it. You felt brave revisiting it at this moment, for whatever reason. “I can’t recall everything she said that day or before, but what I do remember both from that day and before that day. . .,” you stopped, your face flinching a bit at the dark thoughts. “. . . It’s not good.”

Your skin crawled, and you weren’t liking the feeling. Needing to center yourself, you decided to look at him again to gauge his reaction.

His face was rather relaxed, keeping a consistent air of calm to support you through your responses. “You doing okay?” He questioned, checking in. His brows dipped in concern for a moment, waiting for you.

Your lips lifted, back in the moment with him.

This is the present time. He is what’s happening. The past is the past and I’m bigger than it, you recited.

Some of the words were those advised by your childhood therapist. Truthfully, the lady had had some wise words. Jake’d been right when he’d come to that conclusion the night before.

A quiet, content smile was on your face when you responded. “Yeah. I promise. I want to tell you this.”

“Okay,” he replied, his voice quiet like your smile. “Who did you live with after?”

“My grandparents,” you said. “And Elsie.”

“Stayed with them until. . .?”

“Until I moved out to go to school at Pratt. When I moved here.”

“And you’re going to school for. . .?”

You grinned, appreciating his variation of questions. “Majoring in writing,” you groaned as the last word fell from your mouth. “And minoring in music.”

“Don’t like writing anymore?”

You sat on that for a second, then answered. “It’s not that I don’t like it. . . It’s that it’s not my passion,” you paused your motion on his chest and reached down to grab his hand that held your body. You lifted it up from under the fluffy blanket that covered you both. Holding his hand, you traced his calloused fingertips. “I admire how you went after your passion when you had the chance. I wish I’d gone after my own.”

He watched you, seeming to measure your words. “And yours is music, too.”

“Mhm. . . But not playing it,” you added. “Just listening to it– studying it. Learning more about it. I love writing, but I breathe those melodies.”

He smiled in response to that. “Me too. And I like that you feel that way, too,” he commented, letting your fingers play with his. “But who’s to say you couldn’t combine the two? Become a music journalist? A lyricist?”

For some reason, you’d never considered the latter. But it felt as though a fresh breath of air had been breathed into you. “I’ve never thought of being a lyricist, but that sounds. . .”

“Incredible?” He smiled.

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I wonder how you get a job like that, though.”

You let go of his hand to fold both of yours on his chest, your chin on top of them. He moved his hand to encircle your waist again. “I’ll help you find something,” he assured. Your belly buzzed. The idea of him helping you with something so personal to you . . . it made you feel everything all at once. “Somewhere. You live in New York City. . .I’m sure the possibilities are endless.”

“I’m sure you’re correct,” you agreed, admiring the way his breaths would lift your chin, the way his bicep flexed as he moved the bent arm behind his head.

A comfortable silence crept over the two of you, him so obviously watching you– admiring you. It couldn’t be mistaken for anything else.

His next words confirmed it.

“Even in the grayness of this morning, you shine so bright,” he said, almost absentmindedly. “You fucking glow, y/n. You’re just brilliant.”

Not sure what to even begin to say to that, all you could utter was, “Thank you.” The sound of tears in your throat, behind your response, was a surprise, though.

“Has no one ever told you?”

“Well, Josh says sweet things like that. And Elsie is great at encouraging me, too. . . But hearing you say something like that. . . those words. It just feels good. I don’t know,” you shook your head, a tear falling to meet his tanned chest. “And no one has ever said those exact words to me, no.”

“You are all of that and more, my lo—,” he cleared his throat. “You are so many things wrapped in one, y/n. So many fantastic things.”

“Stop,” you sniffed, for the second time that morning. More tears fell onto his chest. “You don’t have to say things like that. I promise I’ll still want to have sex with you if you don’t,” you laughed, wiping your leftover tears. The words sounded funny (true, but still funny) as they left your mouth.

“I want to tell you those things,” he said, firm in his response. “You deserve to hear those good things. Sex or not.”

“Thank you,” again, was all you could say.

“But the sex is pretty good,” he smirked as he said the words, his eyes glinting mischievously as he skirted a hand up the back of your shirt, skating fingers along your bare back. His eyes found yours when he got closer to your shoulders. “No bra?”

“You know I don’t wear one when I sleep.”

“So I’m assuming you knew we were gonna fall asleep out here?”

“Mhm.”

“And you still let it happen?”

I did. . . And even though I shouldn’t, I keep breaking all of my own stupid rules, you thought in defeat.

“Wanted it to,” you remarked.

He hummed, watching you with a curious look in his beautiful eyes. You knew he was most probably thinking the same thing as you.

But, all he said next was, “Can I ask you more questions?”

“Yeah,” you whispered in the quietness of the morning. The rumbling of thunder outside, followed by the pitter-patter of rain droplets against the living room window made goosebumps grow on your skin. “Nothing better than a quiet, rainy morning.”

“You are correct,” he replied in an approving tone. “So. . .your mother. . . Is it okay if I ask about her?”

“Yes,” your lips quirked. “I’ve already told you as much, silly.”

“I know, I know. . . It’s just a lot, I’m sure.”

You nodded to confirm. “It is. But I want to share this with you.”

“Thank you.”

“For trauma dumping?” You giggled.

“For trusting me,” he said, serious in his reply. His eyes flicked to every inch of your face, taking you in. His hand, now massaging the tension from your neck.

Miraculous that he just seemed to know the place where your tension settled.

Not that it wasn’t a common place for tension to reside. But you wondered if he’d noticed you favoring the bottom of your neck during tense situations, over time.

Your heart hammered at the intimacy of the moment. You were so close to just leaning up and kissing him, but you didn’t want to cut conversation short. It was too enjoyable for you.

It felt so freeing.

Trying to bring you both back to the topic at hand, you inquired. “What was your question about my mom?”

“Oh, yes,” he refocused, his hand now moving up to massage the roots at the base of your head. More goosebumps grew at the sensation. “Do you still talk to her?”

“Uh, no. Haven’t even seen the woman since she left. She hurt me so bad back then. . .I’ve kind of closed off the fact that she even exists,” you said. “She wouldn’t want to hear from me anyway.”

“That’s terrible.”

“It’s true. I’m just glad for the family I do still have,” you paused, deciding if you wanted to tack on the other words you were thinking. There was no reason not to, you’d already bared so much to him in a span of minutes. “Glad I have those people who want me.”

“I want you,” he wrapped a hand at the back of your neck, cupping the back of your head as one thumb rubbed over your pulse point. His eyes bore into yours, begging you to understand the words.

The next few moments were quiet and filled with everything left unsaid. What it was that remained unsaid, you didn’t know. Or maybe you did know.

He eventually let go, clearing his throat to show he was moving on. “Does Elsie feel the same? Closed off and all that?”

You blinked a couple times before responding.

“Y-yeah. Pretty much. She and I are on the same wavelength about 98 percent of the time.”

“Imagine 100 percent of the time,” he blew out a breath, his eyes getting big as he stared off.

“Twin life?”

He looked back at you, a grin on his pretty lips. “Twin life,” he confirmed. Pensiveness painted his features, then he spoke again. “Speaking of . . . Did you meet Josh at the record store?”

“Yes,” you responded. “Almost 4 years ago.”

“I’m jealous.”

“That I had that time with Josh while you missed him so bad?”

“Psh,” he said, rolling his eyes. “No. I’ve spent enough time with that fucker through the years,” he snickered, winking at you. “I’m jealous that he got all that time with you. Getting to know you while I was in Illinois, wasting away.”

Your tummy lit up with butterflies again. But you treaded carefully with this topic. You didn’t need him making any assumptions about Josh again.

There was no reason for him to be jealous. And honestly, you wanted to show him as much.

“Well, you shouldn’t get too jealous,” you said, moving from laying down. You positioned your legs on either side of his hips, then sat your ass on the tops of his thighs, opening yourself up to him.

He took in a sharp breath, and smoothed his hands over the tops of your thighs, then slipped his hands past the waistband of your sweats, giving your ass a generous squeeze.

“Why’s that?” He asked, his brow lifting in question. He brought himself up a little more, leaning against the couch. As he moved to sit up, he used his hands on your ass to push your crotch against his hardening cock.

The wet arousal in your panties pressed against you. You gasped at the feeling.

His lip curled to show his top row of perfectly straight, white teeth.

So fucking handsome.

“Well,” you ground your hips against him, his head lolling back momentarily. He got back by bucking up into you, just the slightest bit. It caused a breathy moan to leave your lips. “He will never have me like this, for one,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing his face closer to your chest. “I only want you like this, Jake.”

Fuck. That felt so genuine slipping from your lips. And you wouldn’t tell him this (you could barely admit it to yourself), but you really did only want him. Like, in general. Out of all other men, he was the only one you craved.

When did that even happen?! Your incredulous thoughts could have taken over had he not effectively distracted you.

He moved his hands up under your shirt, abandoning your ass. His eyes were glued to your hardening nipples as his thumbs pressed into your tummy, massaging your hot skin.

It was getting harder and harder to believe there’d been a time that you would have stopped this—out of fear and a bunch of shit. Leaving him on his own, and you sulking, feeling conflicted as hell.

Though, these days, you couldn’t leave him.

There was nothing that could pull you away from him in moments like these.

(And that was a scary thought you could consider later.)

Your body was drawn to him, putty under his touch. Bending down the slightest bit, you curled your hands comfortably in his ever-growing locks. Your nose nestled into the part of his hair right behind his ear. One of your favorite parts of his body was that little crook behind his ear. You didn’t know why. . .

But dammit— he always smelled so delicious. His cologne held hints of sandalwood and amber. . . And something so delectably Jake.

And God, you loved his hair. The citrusy smell of his shampoo. The softness of the locks. The length.

Fuck, the length.

Silly as it may’ve been, you were so glad he was growing it out. The longer it got, the more his heat scale increased. And at this point, he was getting dangerously hot.

His cock nudged against you, leaving nothing to the imagination underneath the layers of clothing. Anytime you’d move your hips to entice him, his cock throbbed beneath you, making your panties more and more uncomfortable with how wet they were.

You felt his hands flatten, traveling up your tummy slowly. But just as he was about to touch your breasts, he switched directions, running his calloused fingertips down your back instead.

“Asshole,” you whispered in his ear. You didn’t even have to look at him to know he was smirking.

The little raspy laugh beneath you gave him away.

Your skin grew goosebumps at the sensation of his rough fingertips making soft shapes on your back.

But you wanted his hands headed back in the direction they were before.

Your nipples were blatantly expanding the fabric of your t-shirt, begging for him.

And, when you pulled away to observe his face, he was already waiting for you, his eyes burning into yours, all the way down to your heart.

Though. . .he didn’t stay there for long. He let his gaze travel back down to your breasts, his pupils dilated, filling his iris almost completely black.

He looked hungry and your hips were moving of their own accord at that point. Every bit of him you got was making you need more, more, more.

“I love your fucking tits,” he growled, wrapping one strong arm behind your back and effectively placing you beneath him.

Your breath momentarily left your lungs, making you release a huge sigh as he arranged you so your back laid nicely against the soft blankets and pillows.

“What do you like about them?”

He groaned, smoothing his hand up your stomach again. His hand cupped the underside of one breast. You sighed at finally feeling his hands where you wanted them.

“I love that they’re yours,” he started, reaching his thumb to rub and pinch at your left nipple. “I love that the color of your nipples is the same color as your pretty lips,” he lifted your shirt the slightest bit, sucking one bud into his mouth, kissing it like he would your mouth. Then, he replaced his mouth with his hand, squeezing your breast as you arched into his touch.

Finally, he connected his mouth with yours, his bottom lip slipping between your lips to deepen it just a bit. You moaned into his mouth as he did yours. Then, he pulled away, leaning on his forearm. Switching between tits with one hand, he cupped the bottom of each, moving his hand under them enough to watch them jiggle. “And I love watching them bounce as I’m fucking you.”

“Shit, Jake,” you moaned, pushing yourself further into his hand. You were aching for him to be inside of you. “Fuck me so you can see what you like, baby.”

He sat up, slipped his sweats (there having been no underwear underneath, apparently) down his thighs, thick cock springing free. The sight made your belly swirl and your center wet with need.

Once he was completely naked, he repositioned above you.

But your skin was itching with the feeling of still being clothed. You needed to feel his warm skin against your own.

“Move,” you motioned for him to back up. You sat up as he took the hint, sitting back on his knees beside you.

His eyebrows wrinkled and his eyes grew worried. “Where are you go—?”

But he went silent as the t-shirt left your body and your bare chest flashed at him. And as you stripped yourself of the shirt, your boobs bounced a little, just as he liked.

“Fuck,” he groaned, reaching for himself. You watched, your throat tightening, as he looked down at his shaft, his mouth falling open, just slightly, as he gave himself a couple of short, quick pumps.

Dear God.

But he seemed dissatisfied.

And when you’d normally stop him and tell him to let you do it instead, you didn’t this time.

But it seemed he still wanted your help.

You just sat in awe as he stretched his hand out to you. You were still as a statue as he gripped your chin, pulling it down the slightest bit. You followed his lead and opened your mouth more with his gesture. Then, you watched as he moved the hand, palm open, in front of your mouth.

“Spit for me, baby,” he nodded at the hand in front of you.

You didn’t argue, doing as you were told, heart racing as you spit in his hand.

After you’d done what he wanted, he wrapped the hand around the base of his thick cock, giving himself a few long strokes from his skilled hand.

Though, as soon as he threw his head back with one particularly generous, tight-fisted move, you decided that it was officially past time to get naked.

You made quick work of your sweats, his eyes flicking up to watch you pull them off in a flurry. Then you hooked your fingers into your soaked underwear, getting them off as fast as possible.

You wanted to be the one to please, rather than his hand.

You were growing jealous of the fist, as it held his pretty dick the way your pussy was aching to.

When you were finally just as bare as he was, you laid on your back again. You spread one leg wide to open up for him, keeping the other flat, against your heap of blankets. In this position, he’d be able to see the bottom curve of your ass, your full breasts, and your slick pussy.

He didn’t see you, though, as he’d gone to focus on pleasuring himself, eyebrows drawn and whimpering a bit as he continued to watch his hand work at a steady pace.

“Jake,” you called quietly, urging him to look at you and come to you.

As soon as his name left your mouth, he looked up from where he was watching himself work his cock. After one hungry once-over from his dark eyes, he bit his lip.

“You ready?” You asked, slowly spreading both legs a little more for him, reaching two fingers to slide through your wet folds, shivering at the feeling of finally being touched.

“Want me to eat your sweet pussy, baby?” He questioned, his voice a velvety rasp.

Ready to please, his hand left his thick cock in order to move the short distance it took to be closer to you.

“I want that pretty dick inside of me,” you responded, your voice exuding all of the need you felt running through your veins. “Now.”

And in a flash, he was on top of you again. His tip, damp from your saliva, nudged its way to the place it knew so well.

Before any more words could be spoken, he pushed inside of you in one swift take. The two of you sighed in unison, relief flashing over his face, as you were sure it did yours, too.

He leaned both forearms on either side of your head, keeping his handsome face close to yours as he fucked you, thick cock stretching you well with each deliberate, hard thrust.

His eyes were trained on your heaving tits, doing just what he wanted them to.

“I was starting to get jealous—,” you paused, whining with one particular snap of his hips, his dick hitting your secret spot. “Of-of that hand,” you said, your voice shaking on the words.

His forehead was beaded with sweat already, ever-energetic in his pursuits—whether it be playing music or in the bedroom.

“Don’t be,” he responded, pinning you with a stern look from his eyes, tone firm. “Your pussy feels better than anything else.”

The telling sounds of your bodies connecting only added to the ecstasy of the moment.

“Took-took y-you too long to get the hint,” you panted.

“It was a few seconds,” he said, rocking his hips extra hard with the last word.

Your toes curled with a moan.

“Still too long.”

“Impatient.”

“No, I just know what I want,” you grabbed the back of his neck, bringing his mouth to yours in a sloppy kiss, tongues fighting to lick further into the other’s open mouth.

With one final swipe of his tongue against your teeth, he pulled away. “You’re high maintenance.”

You were suddenly self-conscious, overcome with a feeling that you weren’t good enough for him. That you annoyed him.

You covered it up with a defensive, haughty tone. “So?”

“I fucking love it.”

Oh.

Your body opened up at that, seemingly on its own. You bent your knees, spreading your thighs even more, letting him sink deeper.

You grabbed at his biceps, gripping them to give yourself some sort of grounding as he started giving all he had, each thrust of his harder than the one before it.

It was painful and delicious all at once.

Fuck he felt so good.

The way he filled you was unlike any man before him. He fit so fucking well, and your center never failed to grip him just right.

“I also love the way your pussy feels,” he said, breathing heavily. “You like how I feel?”

You grinned, feeling drunk on him. Your belly clenched, simultaneous to your center with each rock of his hips. Sighing, you let your hands move to hold onto his strong shoulders.

“You feel so fucking perfect,” you sighed, looking down to where your bodies met. It was almost too much. When you went to look up, something caught your attention from the corner of your eye. You squeezed his shoulder. “Jake.”

A concerned look painting his features, he stopped, checking you. “What? What’s wrong?”

You smiled softly, cupping his cheek, rolling your hips once, needing the pressure of him moving inside of you. “Nothing at all,” you went to tuck his hair behind one of his ears, reassuring. “Just got an idea.”

He picked up his movements: languid strokes, this time, making you forget about everything besides him momentarily. “And what is that?”

You kept on when you could find the words. “I—uhhh,” you moaned, your eyes rolling back in your head as he moved to lay his belly against yours, knowing the friction would be perfect for your swollen, throbbing clit. “I want to pl—oh!,” you sucked in a breath, seeing stars for a moment. Once you were able, you continued. “Wanna play a record.”

“Right now?” He grunted, making one hard rock of his hips into yours.

Your toes curled, still feeling the softness of his tummy on your tender bundle of nerves as his tip repeatedly hit your secret spot. “Yeah.”

He came to a slow stop, eyes trained on yours. He stayed there, watching you with an unspoken question in his eyes, eyebrows furrowing like they did when he thought deeply.

“Is that okay?” You asked, trying to break him from his reverie, nervous you’d freaked him out with the odd request.

“Y-yeah,” he shook his head, hair effectively falling from where you’d tucked it. “That sounds incredible, actually.”

Butterflies let loose in the pit of your stomach. Of course he’d like the idea. He loved music just the same as you did.

He pulled out, and you instantly missed him. But you watched him lazily, dreamily as he stood up smoothly, and walked to the shelf of records (now a mixture of his and yours, of course). “Which one?” He wondered aloud.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him as he thumbed through the records, appreciating the view. “You pick and I’ll let you know if I like.”

As he searched through the albums, you let your mind wander with your eyes.

His body was a work of art.

His thighs, muscular, from the way they flexed when he’d move his body with his guitar on stage.

The perfectly round ass that was undoubtedly gifted to him by the body gods.

And those broad shoulders that were strong to match his equally strong personality.

When he turned a bit towards you, his eyes quickly scanning the back of a vinyl, your eyes instantly found his straining dick. His tip, still swollen from being pulled mid-sex. Your clit thrummed and twitched, seeing how it now glistened from your dripping pussy. Dammit you needed him to hurry.

But most of all, damn this idea for taking him away from you.

Once he turned to you fully, an Aretha Franklin vinyl in hand, you found his eyes. They were questioning, but you looked away from them to admire your most favorite parts of his body.

His toned pecs and his solid stomach— fuck.

There were truly no words for the way he was built— pecs naturally firm and rounded with lean muscle.

And his stomach— just a little soft and the perfect finish to it all, complimenting him just right— finishing out his sturdy, powerful stature.

His aura was compelling. He was utterly beautiful, with his sparkling brown eyes, flowing chestnut locks, and sharp features. And the way he was built matched so well with how he carried himself. Without even trying, he could control any room he was in.

He was honestly what all of your dreams were made of. . . And in moments like these, you wished more than anything that he was yours.

But he wasn’t.

And that bitter thought helped to snap you out of your trance, finally looking at him to answer.

He was smirking, knowingly. “I love your body, too, Beautiful.”

You flushed, rolling your eyes to play off the way his words made your heart flutter. Glancing briefly at the record, squinting to truly recognize it, you nodded at the choice. “Aretha is always a yes.”

“Agreed.”

He turned to put it on the Crosley, and as soon as the needle hummed against the record, making its wonderful crackling sound, you knew you’d made the right choice.

The sound added to the bliss you were already feeling on this quiet, rainy morning.

The combination of watching him walk back to you, with some of the most incredible music backing him. . . Shit.

“I hope you don’t mind. I skipped past the first few,” he said as he came back to you, falling to his knees beside you.

You smiled up at him. “Perfectly fine. This is the best song on the entire record anyway.”

“I think so, too,” he said, eyes lifting with a grin.

When he went to lean over you to pick up where you left off, you scooted over, motioning for him to lay down instead.

Without question, he did as you wanted, and as Aretha sang of a man making her feel like a natural woman, you sank onto him, letting him stretch you so well.

The look on his face when you fucked him was one of your favorite sights. He always watched you so closely. . .whether it be your face, your breasts, your ass, or your pussy that wrapped around him, so tight. He’d scrunch his brows and let his mouth open a bit with certain movements of your hips, and bite his lip at other times. . .

But, in moments like this one, when one hand would be holding your face while the other gripped your hip, a small, close-mouthed smile on his soft, plush lips. . . His emotion-filled eyes, boring into yours . . .

Your world tipped slightly on its axis when he’d do shit like that. Moments like this made a whole lot of gray in what should have been a strictly black and white situation.

And, as you listened to the soulful voice flowing quietly from the record player, your thoughts drifted further. . .

When my soul was in the lost and found,

You came along to claim it.

I didn't know just what was wrong with me,

Till your kiss helped me name it.

This song perfectly summed up how you felt about this man. The same man who had been the bane of your existence so recently was now a light on your darkest days.

And, as you watched him, his hips beginning to move on their own, making you feel complete and right. . . You truly couldn’t imagine your life without him.

And not just because of the sex. It was him. Having him around made you feel . . . whole.

Without evening knowing or trying, he’d been helping you find missing pieces to your puzzle.

Hidden pieces of your soul that you hadn’t seen in a long time. Some good. Some bad. But all you.

Pieces you’d forgotten even existed.

And by just being near you, he made you feel authentic in a way you’d never felt with another man.

As you rode him, leaning down on your forearms to get close to his face, you gave him a long kiss. A kiss that you hoped said thank you. . . Because, truly, you were so grateful for him.

But as you separated your lips from his and pressed your perspired forehead to his own, you looked into the deep pools of his eyes that held so much. And you knew you had to say the words out loud.

“Thank you,” you whispered, hoping he’d understand as you felt new tears cloud your vision. Your hips were moving on their own, matching the slow rocking of his hips. You were holding onto him, keeping rhythm with the song as you had this moment.

He held your gaze, a secret smile forming in his eyes as he spoke. “Thank you.”

You studied him seriously, the feeling in his eyes seeming to match your own. Both of you stayed there for a minute, taking the other in.

You kissed him once more. And, rather than continuing the conversation, you focused on finding a release for you both.

Just as another favorite of yours came on.

The opening chorus resonated with you just like every time you’d heard it before, but this time it was different—better—as he laid underneath you, holding you. . . Staring at you with eyes that held the motherfucking world.

Like the sweet morning dew,

I took one look at you,

And it was plain to see you were my destiny.

With my arms open wide, I threw away my pride.

Feeling everything all at once, you spread your legs wide, thighs stretching out on top of his to get as close as you could to him. Then you bent your legs at the knees, and leaned toward him, laying on top of him and nuzzling into that sweet spot behind his ear. You made yourself comfortable as you knew this would be your undoing.

It always was from this position.

And this song was just feeding into the emotions coursing through your heart, intensifying all of it at once.

Your favorite way to finish was in this exact position, and you knew at that moment, that it would take you no time.

Fucking him at that moment felt extremely dissimilar to all of your times before. The damned music was untying every string you’d used to close up your fragile heart.

While lost in your sudden wave of thought, he took over, knowing all the moves. He’d grown familiar with this position, just as you had. He knew your body. What you liked.

He grabbed a hip and a handful of your ass, and moved your body down forcefully to meet him while also thrusting his hips up.

The contrast of motion and the tugging at your heart helped every piece of you to get the much needed stimulation. And fuck if it didn’t make your thighs shake.

You whined, your toes curling as, simultaneously, his tip hit your g-spot and your clit nudged against the lower part of his tummy.

“Jakey,” you moaned.

“I know,” he breathed hotly, not letting up on his motions in the slightest. “I can fucking feel you pulse around me, baby.”

“You like it?” You sighed, still next to his ear, needing to hear the affirmation from him.

“Best fucking feeling in the whole world.”

Your tummy lurched at that, butterflies fluttered their wings.

That’s how you feel for me, too, you thought.

And with one more strategic move of his hips, you saw stars. You felt every nerve ending light up. Your skin felt like static.

“Oooohhh,” you moaned, your body shaking.

He groaned, whining a bit. “Y/n—I’m—.”

You felt far away as he tapped your hip, sinking into all things Jake, Jake, Jake.

You jostled back to reality right as he lifted you off of him, depositing you as carefully and quickly as he could on the covers next to you both in no time.

Just as you laid down, he was instantly on his knees, warm seed spilling onto your tummy, right where he’d placed you.

You blinked and shook your head, registering what’d almost happened. Your thoughts were flying— going crazy.

“Fuck,” he said, flopping down next to you as he slid a hand down his face. “That was a close one.”

“Yeah,” was all you could mutter, your heart beating hard against your chest.

Before much more could be said, he sealed the interaction with a slow, sure kiss and got up to fix you both breakfast.

Now that you’d had his cooking the night prior, you were really looking forward to the breakfast. You’d learned the man was extremely gifted in culinary— just as he was in music.

But, even as the bacon crackled and the vanilla-laced smell of fresh waffles wafted in through the open layout of the apartment, you weren’t really thinking about his cooking.

No; inside your mind, you were swirling back and forth with how close you’d felt to him. How sex was starting to feel so effortless and all-encompassing with him. . . And that coupled with how much you’d been feeling in the moment?

It was obvious he’d carved a place in your heart.

A big one.

But you’d worry about that later.

Because. . .what was clawing at you more was one particular thought.

You now had a nagging curiosity of what it might feel like to have him actually finish inside of you.

How in the hell had you let it come to this?

-🌼🌼🌼-

Every year, it was tradition to have a family dinner at your grandparents’ house to celebrate a new year of school.

But this year, on a whim, you decided to make it a little different. . . You acted on impulse and invited Jake to it.

To your surprise (and excitement), he’d agreed with no hesitation.

And before the annoying voice in your head could say anything, you reassured it that him coming with you wasn’t a couple-y thing.

Not at all.

You’d had time to think back on the way you’d started cracking during sex the other morning.

And you had already started the process of tying your heart back up, protecting yourself from a whirlwind of unnecessary, surely unreciprocated emotion.

He liked having sex with you, that was it. And it could be that way for you, too. It had to be.

The flash of feelings you’d felt during sex a few mornings back honestly meant nothing— you chalked it up to just being caught up in the moment. You had simply gotten far too ahead of yourself.

As you got ready that night, you thought back on the few times your grandma and grandpa had asked about your roommate. You were sure you’d only thought to invite him, because you’d been subconsciously thinking it would appease your wondering grandparents.

You also just really enjoyed spending time with him. That much you could come to terms with. And, admittedly, you really wanted him to meet your grandparents.

Of course, you were a little nervous at the prospect of him meeting your them (more your judgmental grandfather than your grandma). But, nonetheless, you were really looking forward to having him there with you.

And, the cherry on top: Elsie would be there to alleviate any weird tension your grandparents may add. . . So, truly, it was the ideal time to have him come meet them.

At 5:00, thirty minutes before it was time to leave, he still wasn’t home. You knew he had a few lessons today, but he’d assured you that he would be home on time.

Though, you couldn’t help feeling nervous that maybe he’d regretted saying yes, and he was going to run late on purpose just to get out of going to dinner.

Before your thoughts could get too crazy, you got a text from him.

Jake, 5:10 p.m.: so I’m still working with this fuckin client :(

But at the sight of the text, your stomach sank.

I knew it, you thought, downhearted. He’s gonna try to get out of it.

Then, another text came through.

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: and I think it’s the time of day

Jake, 5:11 p.m.: but I’ve had like 3 Ubers in a row cancel on me for my scheduled time

He’s really pulling out all the stops, you thought, feeling your chest tighten, anger coming into play. Just say you don’t want to go.

While you were sulking, you noticed one more text pop up in its gray bubble.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: I hate to ask you to do this

Here it comes.

Jake, 5:12 p.m.: but can you pick me up on your way to your grandparents house? I really don’t wanna miss it

You could’ve sighed with relief. In fact, you did. Watching the screen for a few more seconds, you contemplated waiting a bit to respond. Play the classic ‘hard-to-get’ and ‘make-sure-he-knows-I-don’t-take-this-too-seriously-game’ and keep him on the line. . .

But you couldn’t wait. And probably too quickly, you texted back.

You, 5:13 p.m.: I’d be happy to. I’ll be there soon. Just send me the address.

And within five minutes, the address was sent as you were scooping Stevie some fresh food in her dish. And as soon as you saw it, you were making your way out the door, hurriedly making your way to the car.

Why am I so anxious to see him when I literally just saw him this morning? You thought, as you started the car, hearing your soul music playlist take over the car’s stereo. Calm the fuck down, y/n.

But you couldn’t help it as you pulled quickly out of the parking lot, buzzing with excitement at the thought of seeing him again.

-🌼🌼🌼-

When you pulled up to his client’s house, you suddenly saw the appeal of the private lessons. You were sure he got paid good fucking bucks to give lessons to whoever it was that lived in this mansion of a place.

You were busy admiring the giant home, when you felt your stomach flutter at the sight of him, carrying his acoustic guitar case.

Though, your gaze didn’t stay on him for long as you caught sight of the beautiful woman with flowing, jet-black locks, walking out of the door behind him, her pristine black dress. Her full ass, big tits, and small waist accentuated perfectly in the outfit. You saw her blatantly checking him out and saying something as she followed behind him.

Whatever it was she was saying, it made him laugh. Truly laugh. His dimples were showing and his mouth was open wide, then he said something back.

But he was seemingly oblivious to her glances at his ass as he continued walking ahead of her. The perfectly straight, gleaming white smile on her glowing caramel skin was wide with whatever he said and whatever it was that she was saying in return.

Your blood was boiling. And it just got worse as you watched her come up behind him and lightly grab his bicep, turning him gently to face her.

For a few brief seconds, you watched in terror, afraid that you were about to witness a kiss between him and this woman.

Thankfully, you didn’t.

But what you did see still made tears climb up your throat.

You watched him sit his case down, and then saw an extremely genuine, heartfelt hug take place between the two. It wasn’t a quick, friendly side hug, it was a full-on hug. She was grasping him tightly, holding the back of his head as she clung to him. Her eyes closed as she continued speaking over his shoulder.

At one moment, her mouth closed and you saw just how beautifully shaped and plush her soft lips were. She was strikingly gorgeous. Everything about her.

Was this her house? Was he giving her lessons? Or did she have a kid that he was giving lessons to?

Whatever the case may have been, you had to swallow back every tear that was threatening to escape as he started walking toward you, case in hand again.

She stayed on the sidewalk, watching him walk down the steps to the curb where you’d pulled up.

Right as he got to your car, he turned around to wave at her once more.

And then, what you heard him say through the closed door made your heart fall to the very pit of your stomach.

“It’s my favorite part of the day!” He laughed heartily, before finally opening the door to the backseat.

His favorite part of the day? Was it being with her? Fuck.

You turned to face the front of the car, gathering yourself as you stared out the windshield. You were so embarrassed. For a variety of reasons.

Your hands shook as you held tightly to the steering wheel.

The back door shut, and you prepared yourself for him being close to you by clearing your throat and reminding yourself of a few important things.

We are not together. I don’t love him. God no I don’t, you shook your head at the idea of that. And he can be with whomever he pleases. It’s none of my business.

But when he opened the door to the car, all thoughts from before vanished. The musings from your self-mantra and your worries of the girl had dissipated as soon as he spoke in his ever-raspy, sweet tone.

“Hi, beautiful.”

You glanced over at him, a tight smile on your lips working to mask any worry that there may have been. Working to convince him and yourself that things were okay.

You couldn’t help but ask. “Is she a client or does she have a child taking lessons?”

He ran a hand through his hair, scratching his nose. “Oh, she’s the client,” he said, his smile matching his tone as he spoke of her. “She’s doing really well. I’m proud of her progress.”

The next question slipped from your lips out of pure curiosity, nothing more. “Does she live in that giant house all by herself?”

“Yep. Single. No kids,” he affirmed. “Crazy, huh? Oh! I almost forgot,” he reached over the armrest and into the backseat to click open his case and get something from it.

His proximity to you was overwhelming, the intoxicating smell of sandalwood and amber infiltrating your senses.

Please want me more than you might want her, you pleaded silently.

When he was sitting in his seat again, he lifted to reach into his back pocket, getting his wallet out.

“What did you almost forget?” You inquired, trying to mask your ridiculous thoughts with a plain tone.

“This,” he held up a guitar pick, before opening his wallet to put it inside. “My lucky pick. I always use it at my lessons. Forgot to put it back in my wallet today. Got carried away talking to her.”

Fuck.

Then, without meaning to, you caught his gaze. The a/c blowing against your hair and face, cooling you off from your distressing thoughts.

But your bearings were almost lost again with the sincerity you found in his eyes, and with the hand that fell to squeeze your thigh as he leaned over the console to kiss your cheek.

Closing your eyes momentarily, you turned your attention back to the road right before you put the car in drive.

We are not together. Everything is fine. Whatever we are— it’s fine. Stop worrying, you chanted all of this internally as you increased the volume on Victoria Monet, gearing up for your playlist to serenade you for the duration of the drive. Drown out your ridiculous train of thought.

“I actually like this,” Jake commented, his hand still on your thigh. His thumb sweeped wide circles on your inner thigh, burning through your jeans. “What’s it called?”

Coming to the stop sign at the end of the street, you waited for the car on your right to go as you responded.

“We Might Even Be Falling In Love,” was your simple response, right before you took your turn at the four way stop.

-🌼🌼🌼-

The car ride to your grandparents’ was slightly tense at first, but eventually you got over it as Jake started making his regular small talk. He was the same as always. Anytime you talked with him, he reminded you of his brother with how intent and caring he was about every word that left your mouth.

But, for you, it meant more coming from him than it did Josh.

Jake was just. . .special to you. And you wanted to be special to him.

It was a relief. And by the time you pulled up to the quaint, familiar house, everything felt the same as it always did. You were feeling better. . he was him and things felt normal. Felt okay.

As you walked up to the front door, him following you closely behind, you felt comfortable. And when you entered the house, it felt so good to have Jake in tow, the never-changing atmosphere of the home combining perfectly with having him near.

You were giddy with the fact that he was there.

And it just continued to get better as the night wore on.

Both of your grandparents greeted Jake with open arms, real welcoming smiles adorned their wrinkling faces. Your chest, warm with contentment as you watched the three of them interact. Jake, continuing the theme of coming out of his shell, as he made smooth conversation with your people.

As you’d been standing in the entryway chatting, Elsie’d rounded the corner from the kitchen. And to your delighted surprise, Josh had been in tow behind her.

You knew they’d decided to take it to the next level after the night at the bowling alley. They were becoming the power couple. So it made sense that he’d be here tonight, too.

Everything was absolutely perfect. Elsie and Josh being there made the ideal mix of people for Jake’s first time meeting your family.

Then dinner came.

“Joshua, I will never get over how sweet it was for you to make the drive to us with Elsie a few weeks ago,” your grandmother commented as she poked some salad with her fork. “Didn’t leave her alone on that late night drive.”

“She is in good hands with you,” your grandfather agreed, making sure to catch Josh’s eyes to emphasize his words.

“I’m lucky to have her,” Josh smiled in response, kissing Elsie’s cheek.

Everything was going great, conversation flowing until your grandmother spoke next.

“Y/n, honey, how long have you been seeing Jake?”

Your eyes stayed trained on your plate, suddenly feeling all eyes on you. You heard Jake clear his throat from where he sat next to you. Fuck. Of course she’d ask this. Assume that you two were dating.

To your relief, Elsie started speaking for you.

“Grandma, they aren’t together,” she said, covering smoothly with a giggle to top it off, trying to alleviate any tension.

You took that as your cue to look up, monitoring the situation.

“Oh,” your Grandma responded, a little smile on her face as she put an aged, perfectly manicured hand to her forehead. “Silly old me. I guess I just assumed because you were here together tonight, sis,” she looked at you, her eyes apologetic.

“You sure act like it,” your Grandpa chimed in, motioning with his fork at you two sitting next to each other.

“Howard, quit,” your Grandmother defended.

At your Grandpa’s comment, you finally found your voice.

“Elsie’s right. We are not together,” you stated, leaving no room for argument. “He’s just my roommate.”

“Harsh, kid,” your Grandfather interjected. “Not even a friend?”

“I guess,” you shrugged, looking over at Jake who seemed to be trying his best to stay focused on his plate, dodging any involvement in the conversation. “But mostly just my roommate.”

For some reason, the awkward air persisted, hanging in the air around you.

Your words felt wrong. You knew you were friends (and more than that), but you didn’t want to get too mushy, for fear of being questioned further. You were trying your best to diffuse the tension, fixing it so he wouldn’t feel uncomfortable.

You were so fearful of somehow exposing your current predicament—especially to those in the room. You hadn’t even told Elsie of your whole ‘fuck buddy’ situation. Shockingly.

She’d known about you two having sex that first time. . . But you had never told her anything further than that.

Honestly, you’d been too focused on Jake the past few weeks to even think to inform her. It was something that only you and Jake shared and you mostly liked it that way.

You also didn’t want to tell her because you were positive she’d question the situation. Make you admit things you didn’t want to. Things you couldn’t admit. Push you to say too much. You didn’t need her to make it anything more than what it was.

It was your little secret. And you intended on keeping it that way.

Josh swooped in seamlessly, taking over the conversation with talks of all things music and film.

Eventually, Jake tuned in to the music talk. He’d stayed quiet for longer than you’d anticipated . . . surely feeling the awkwardness of the initial question with you. But he’d played it off well.

And as you watched him interact with your grandparents, the version of him that you witnessed made your heart flutter. Your senses were filled with all kinds of happiness.

Eventually, you, the twins, and your Grandpa had migrated to the living room as Elsie and your Grandma went to prepare dessert.

You sat there, across the room from him. You, on the couch, him on the ottoman next to your Grandpa’s chair. Why he’d sat so far away from you, you didn’t know – but you didn’t care. You just enjoyed watching him talk.

The way he got along with your Grandpa made you light up with joy considerably.

Your Grandfather was a hard nut to crack. Not to compare the two, but you wouldn’t ever put it past Josh to get through to your Grandpa (because Josh was, quite possibly, the easiest person in the world to talk to). So seeing his easy talk with your Grandpa was expected.

But Jake? Jake was just a quieter person by nature. Not in a bad way, by any means. . . He just was. You liked him that way. He was thoughtful and kept parts of himself hidden. . . revealed more of himself the more he trusted someone. You really liked him for all of his ways.

But the way he was bonding with your Grandpa? It was just astonishing.

By just being himself, Jake was making your Grandpa open up more than ever.

You’d never seen your Grandpa this way.

As you watched the three of them, Jake’s efforts to connect with your Grandfather honestly seemed to flow more smoothly than the other twin’s.

Josh had even ended up leaving the conversation, going to join your Grandma and Elsie in the kitchen, as the other two seemed to be venturing into their own conversation. Neither Jake nor your Grandpa needed a buffer. But you’d stayed anyhow, too intrigued by them to want to leave.

And, you just really liked being where Jake was. He made you feel so calm and happy.

You also just couldn’t miss out on the moment in front of you. . .you’d never seen your Grandpa talk so animatedly.

The way he talked about music with Jake was shocking to you, as you didn’t know he loved music to the depths that you did.

But apparently, Jake knew how to bring out that side of him. The smiles exchanged with the topic of conversation were exhilarating— so joy-filled.

Then, to your complete shock, your Grandpa brought up how he’d played guitar for years before your mother had been born.

“You played guitar, Grandpa?!” You couldn’t help but ask, as you quite literally sat on the edge of the crisp, floral sofa. “How come you never told us?!”

“Well, I never really felt the need to revisit that part of my life,” he said, sighing. “You two girls didn’t need to be privy to that. It’s all in the past.”

You shook your head. “I love that about you, Grandpa. . . I wish you would’ve told me.”

He just looked at you with his eyes, so much behind them, left unsaid and filled to the brim with an unnamed emotion. A sad smile came to sit on his face.

“Did you have a favorite to play?” Jake asked, looking at him.

“I did. I feel like all of us do.”

“Yeah. That’s the truth,” Jake grinned, nodding. “Do you still have your favorite one?”

“I sure do,” he looked at your roommate, a big grin spanning his usually-sunken cheeks. “I’ll show ya.”

Jake offered to go get it for him as he watched the old man try to stand. But when he was finally on his feet, he waved him off.

“Nah, son. It’ll be good for me to get up and around to get her.”

As he left to grab it, you waited for Jake to turn to you. But, he didn’t.

Instead, he just looked at all of the photos on the walls rather than anywhere in your direction. The living room was so quiet, you literally heard every breath he took as he looked at the pictures of you and Elsie as children.

You cleared your throat, trying to get a reaction from him.

He kept looking around the living room, not paying you any mind.

It was awkward.

Why was he avoiding looking at you? You weren’t used to him acting in such a way anymore.

Unable to take it any longer, you cleared your throat again, harsher this time.

But he still ignored it.

“Jake,” you sharply stated his name, irritation seeping through your tone at his behavior.

When he finally looked at you and you met his eyes, he looked distant. But after watching you for a long minute, his eyes started lightening a bit, seeming to come back to himself just a little.

You tentatively grinned at him and shook your head.

“What’s wrong?” You asked quietly, your eyes searching his face.

“Nothing,” he stated, his voice sounding far away, jaw clenching.

“Jake.”

He just ran a quick, stiff hand through his hair, looking ahead of him for a few seconds and then back at you.

You didn’t tear your focus from him, trailing your eyes past his face and watching his Adam's apple bob in his throat.

When you looked back into his eyes, your heart beat rapidly as his eyes seemed to sink into your own. He was observing you so intently, your nerves sparking to life under his attention. You shivered a little under his stare. His gaze was dark, something hiding behind his amber-brown irises.

You felt vulnerable and stark naked.

Instead of shying away, you kept your eyes on him. And the more you studied him—challenged him—an urge started creeping from below the surface. You watched him swivel further to face you.

You let your eyes drift again. Down his body, where his legs were spread.

And just as you were about to take him somewhere private to talk, maybe even offer him a tour of your childhood bedroom. . .

Your Grandpa reappeared. Jake’s eyes quickly averted from yours, growing huge at the gorgeous white guitar your Grandfather had in tow.

“A White Falcon?!” Jake asked in astonishment, his eyes growing bigger the closer it came. “Holy sh— wow.”

Your grandpa gave a belly laugh, handing this hidden, prized possession over to the long haired man. “You can say it, son. Holy shit is right. She’s a beauty.”

“A 1960. . .?”

“She’s a ‘67,” your Grandpa replied, admiring the nearly spotless guitar. The gold accents practically sparkled under the yellow glow of your Grandmother’s lamps. “A rare one.”

“You’ve got that right,” Jake said, inspecting the relic. “These are worth thousands these days. Especially in a condition like this,” he commented. “But I’m glad you kept it. I would have, too.”

Your Grandpa made his go-to clicking sound with his cheek. He seemed to be agreeing and disagreeing. (Normal behavior for the aging man.) “I debated getting rid of her a few times here and there. . .but ultimately, I decided she was far too precious to me for me to ever give her up.”

You couldn’t help but feel every single emotion you’d been (uselessly) working to bury, rise to the surface. He had you completely enraptured. . . he was driving you crazy.

Back to observing him and your Grandfather, you lost yourself in thought at the man in front of you. He’d done the impossible. Not only had he started cracking your hard shell, he’d brought out something you’d never seen in your Grandpa. He had helped you to discover this bright side of your Grandpa that you’d doubted for years even existed.

An easygoing, free-minded person that had apparently been lurking below the surface your entire life.

But it made sense that Jake had been able to do it.

He really had done it for you, too. You’d trusted him with countless things. Your emotions. Your body. Your home. Your TV shows. Your cat.

Jake held the guitar so delicately. But his hands were simultaneously strong and purposeful, making sure to protect the guitar. It was so similar to how he handled you.

The thought made your blood feel hot in your veins and your legs weak. You crossed your legs, watching his hands hold the keepsake just right.

The rest of the words exchanged were technical terms about the original price, what it’s currently worth, how it played. . .

But you weren’t really focused on all of the technicalities as you observed Jake’s fingers on the body of the guitar. How intensely he stared at the instrument as he kept steady conversation, his voice, deep and raspy. . .

You didn’t want to expose yourself with how entranced you were by him at that moment.

So, you decided you needed to escape as soon as possible.

“I’m going to search my room for something,” you said, glancing at Jake— who, yet again, wasn’t acknowledging you speaking. What the fuck? “I’ll be back shortly.”

Your Grandpa acknowledged you, giving a little wink before going back to his discussion with Jake.

-🌼🌼🌼-

Once you’d walked the couple of short hallways to get to your childhood bedroom, you sort of regretted using your bedroom as the excuse to get away.

You hesitated to open the door for a few long moments.

You hadn’t been back to this room since that day in the car where Elsie had brought up the parts of your childhood that you’d forgotten.

If you were being honest with yourself, it was intimidating to stand before the door as memories flooded back.

There was the unnecessary screaming at your sister, coming back to you first. And as you thought back on that, you outwardly cringed at the words you now remembered saying to her. Terrible, hateful, completely untrue things.

Then, you saw yourself throwing objects. Only ever at Elsie. With her being the person you felt safest with, naturally she was also the person punished most. In particular, a dent in the wall, adjacent to the door, reminded you of this. It was something that your grandparents and Elsie had always dismissed, saying it had ‘always been there.’

How in the hell had you blocked these things so intensely? Looking back on it now, it seemed as if those things had happened almost as soon as you’d moved in with your grandparents.

To be fair, you had been very young and very recently grieved by the things which had occurred at your mother’s house.

Had it been a bad case of disassociation which had made you lose these fragments of time?

Trauma-induced memory loss?

Your childhood counselor had used the terms. You remembered that.

Based on what you could vaguely rehash from those sessions, you probably had disassociated to protect yourself from the dark things.

Disregarding what happened after moving to your grandparents’, there were several other things you literally couldn’t remember from your time with your mom. Distant flickers of barely-there echoes from a much darker, secret life.

You were apparently an extreme pro at blocking out anything that may hurt you, and times with your mom and the things you’d done as a child were just that.

Your eyes tracked the old wooden door, contemplating opening it when you saw the hole at the bottom of it.

Another thing that had ‘always been there.’ But, right then and there, you could recollect the moment it happened. Clear as day.

You’d been home alone with Elsie. Something had happened that had you screaming at her. Throwing things at her. Chasing her. If you were seeing the memory correctly, you had even managed to hit her with something. She’d gotten scared and the place she’d thought to run and hide had been your room. She’d been so stricken by the incident, sobbing for you to ‘stop, please!’ But you hadn’t listened. When she’d escaped behind the door, she shut it and locked you out. It had angered you more, making you release every last bit of bottled emotion with several hard kicks to the bottom of the door, resulting in the obscurity that now faced you, taunting you.

Then your grandparents had returned home, observed the incident, and decided that you both needed to immediately start counseling.

Without even realizing it, you were beginning to choke on dry sobs. Your breaths were becoming short and hard to catch. You couldn’t breathe.

Your vision was fuzzy as you held to the door frame to balance yourself. But seeing it as pointless, your body going limp, your arms shaking, you slid down the wall to the floor. Putting a hand to your chest, you focused on taking deeper breaths, working to count each one you released.

You pinched your eyes shut and tried to think of something to calm you down.

Long hair that smelled like citrus. Smooth, tanned skin, glowing in the sun. A kiss underwater. A hand smoothing over your cheek, catching your tears. Soul-filled eyes, like dark whiskey, watching you closely and carefully. A body around yours, protecting you in the most quiet and intimate moments. The smell of sandalwood and amber.

But, right now, that smell was more present than it just being a figment of your imaginings.

You slowly opened your eyes, still focusing on breathing, to find him right there, next to you.

He was crouched down, a hand on the wall next to you, using his body as a shield around you.

Your eyes welled with tears at the sight of him. It was like he knew you needed him.

“You were gone for a bit longer than what seemed normal,” he said, worry evident in his words. “What’s going on?”

Tears were escaping down your cheeks steadily. He took his flannel off, clad in a black t-shirt underneath, collar torn (on purpose?). Then, started dabbing at your cheeks for a few moments with his flannel. Once finished, he handed it to you, for you to wipe at your face with it.

“Nothing's going on,” you gasped on a breath, almost bringing the flannel to your face when you stopped. “I don’t want to get it dirty with my makeup, Jake,” you gasped, still trying to calm yourself. But the relentless crying was making it near impossible.

“I don’t care,” he went from crouching, to sitting against the wall, right beside you. His shoulder was a couple inches from touching your own. You caught yourself naturally leaning into it. “I want to help you. Let me.”

You didn’t say anything in response to that, letting the heartfelt words hang in the air around you two, laying your head on his shoulder. Bringing his flannel up to your face, you closed your eyes at the wonderful smell of him that lingered on the shirt and wiped your face with the plaid material.

Keeping your eyes closed, you used his steady breathing as an aid, trying to breathe in time with him. Anytime his shoulder would lift your cheek with a breath, you took one, too. It worked well, your chest feeling less tight, the tears subsiding.

After a bit, you heard him speak again. His voice, causing a comforting rumble against your cheek. “What happened, honey?”

Honey. Your heart lurched in your chest at the name.

You slowly pried your eyes open again, focusing on the light beige of the walls and the way the textured paint on the wall made a sort of pattern.

“Nothing,” you mumbled. You feared bringing up the details of the way you used to behave. The idea of saying anything was embarrassing. It was daunting to think of exposing yourself like that. “Stuff from the past that’s embarrassing and awful.”

“Nothing you do is embarrassing.”

“Wrong.”

He snickered, placing a hand on your thigh. His trusty black hair-tie, wrapped around his middle finger. You traced the long digit, his knuckle, and then picked at the hair tie, pulling at it to see the skin beneath the band.

Before you could do any more to his hand, he removed it from your leg. You watched, your head still leaning on his shoulder as he took the black rubber band off. Suddenly, you were moving from his shoulder as his body shifted. Peering up curiously, he motioned for you to turn your head. You did so, and within seconds, your hair was pulled up and away from your hot face.

You looked over your shoulder at him, growing goosebumps as his fingers lingered on the skin of your neck. “Thank you.”

Situating yourself in your position from before, you decided on a whim to wrap your hand underneath his arm. You continued until you were lacing your fingers through his, his calloused fingertips wrapping around to rest on the top of your hand.

“You don’t have to tell me,” he started, voice low, as if keeping a secret. “But I’m here. I need you to know that. Whatever the case may be, I am here for you.”

“Thanks,” you hummed, squeezing his hand. “Jake?”

“Hm?”

“How did things change between us?”

He chuckled. “Well, it started when you walked into my bedroom the night of—.”

You shushed him, not able to hide your light giggle as you used your other palm to hit his hard chest. How was he able to turn things around so quickly for you? Your body felt so light and airy now, calm and at peace. The foggy memories weren’t so scary when he was with you.

“I mean. . .how are we like this now? Cordial?”

“We started trusting each other, I guess,” he said, all joking gone from his tone.

“Yeah. . .,” you agreed. “And as silly as it is, I think you were onto something with mentioning the first night we. . .”

“I don’t think it’s silly, honestly. . . If we are being honest with ourselves, sex changes everything,” he stated, his thumb tapping a light beat against your hand. He was right. It truly did change things. For good or for bad, you didn’t know.

“And those Aretha Franklin songs the other morning. . .,” he pushed a breath from his lips to follow his words.

You gasped. “You felt it too?” Finally looking up from his shoulder, you ignored the voice that was telling you to not give into the moment as you turned to him. Because when you looked up at him, his dark brown eyes were familiar, honest, and real. You couldn’t help but let them be your safe place. That was what they’d become.

It can’t be this way forever. Stop while you’re ahead, the voice warned. Stop giving in.

But you kindly told it to fuck off as you swam in his irises.

“It was impossible not to. The music and the moment. . . ,” he grinned, a dimple presenting itself in his cheek. Then he raised a brow, turning his head a bit, keeping his eye on you. “But, don't forget. We’re just roommates.”

You flushed. “I had to say that.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know,” you sighed, hearing them from his mouth, you realized that your Grandpa had been right about your words being harsh. “Didn’t want anyone catching onto anything? I don’t know.”

“It’s okay,” he said, his smile not reaching his eyes, but still there. His eyes traveled the walls around you. You could tell his mind was still looming on how he’d found you in the hallway, only minutes ago.

The column of his neck hypnotized you, the muscles that flexed beneath the flesh so strong and sure. You were aching to put your lips on the skin, then his eyes found yours, caught you watching him, yet again. He lifted a brow, eyes flickering to your lips, staring at your mouth as you licked to wet them.

When he bit his lip, it was over.

You couldn’t help it. Your breath caught in your throat, your heart was racing. . .

Without even worrying about getting caught, you angled yourself towards him until your lips met his in a kiss. You had to be near him. Needed to be closer, closer, closer.

He gave it back, matching the force behind your kisses.

It continued like that for a few short moments, but right before you could slip your tongue between his lips, he placed a hand to your cheek, gentle as he held your face steady, pulling back to study your features.

He waited for you to speak. You both knew why he’d put a stop to it.

And as if to drive the point home, Josh’s laugh echoed through the entire house— a blatant reminder of why you couldn’t do this here.

You looked down to see where he was situating himself in his black skinny jeans, your skin heating all the more.

As much as you wanted to leave at that instant, you didn’t want to seem abrupt or strange by doing that. You knew it would be best to eat dessert and then leave.

You tucked a couple of loose strands, having fallen from your makeshift ponytail, behind your ears. Then, you asked. “Wanna eat some pie and then get out of here?”

“Sounds perfect.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

Laying in his bed later that night, sweaty limbs pressed together and chests heaving, your head resting on his chest as he twirled fingers in your hair, now loose around your shoulders. . . You decided to tell him.

“Earlier tonight, when you found me,” you took a deep breath, preparing yourself for your next words. “I was trying to recover from a panic attack.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you said, pausing. As much as you wanted to look at him when you told him the next part, you decided it would be easier to keep your eyes on his SG, sitting on its stand across his bedroom. “I get them sometimes.”

“Why?” He asked, voice light and calm.

“Different things. . . tonight, it was because I started having these extremely vivid flashbacks from my childhood.”

“About your mom?”

“Not necessarily— not this time,” you cleared your throat as tears pricked at your eyes. It hurt to think about the nasty, younger version of yourself. “This time, it was more about what I used to do when I was younger.” Tears were falling on his chest, your chest was tight as they kept coming, his skin prickling in their wake. “I–I’m sor–sorry.”

“Why, baby?” His voice settled your nerves. Warm. Soft. Him.

“I hate that you have to see me cry,” you sniffled, wiping at the tears on his chest. But instead of letting you continue, he held your hand there, so you could feel the stable beating of his heart.

“If crying is what it takes to heal, I’m here to listen to you as you wade through it.”

This time, you were crying from his words and the way his skin felt against your own. He was your safety. He was here. He was real.

He was here to help. Let him.

“Okay,” you breathed, trying to settle your breaths, focusing on the way his heart beat rhythmically under your hand.

So, you opened up. You told him about everything that Elsie had reminded you of that day in the car; told him what seeing the door had done to you – and everything that had reared its ugly head all at once tonight.

“Wow,” he let out a deep breath in response. “I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah. I was such a fucking demon,” you muttered sadly, your heart breaking as the images and sounds were once again coming back. “And I can’t escape it.”

“Why can’t you?”

You wrinkled your brows, resituating to lean on your arm beside him. His eyes followed you, open and honest and Jake. “I caused severe trauma for others– just like my mom did. I made mistakes that I can never take back.”

“You said you were ten?” He asked. You nodded. “You were a child.”

“It’s not an excuse.”

“It’s not,” he agreed. “But you need to give yourself some grace.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re human.”

“But so were the people I hurt.”

“Who would you say you hurt most?”

“Els.”

“And has she forgiven you?”

“I think so,” you muttered, remembering Elsie that day in the car.

“I’ve moved on. Anytime you did any of that stuff, I moved on as soon as you’d done it.”

“You were in pain and somehow, I just knew it. . . I knew then it wouldn’t be fair for me to hold something against you that you probably didn’t mean. I knew the only reason you were acting that way was because someone else had hurt you. It wasn’t all your fault. It was mostly mom’s. You just didn’t know how to react to it.”

“Then you need to forgive yourself,” he said, moving some tresses of hair behind your shoulders to be able to put an open palm to your chest, right where your heart laid beneath the flesh. “Your heart is beautiful. That’s what matters. Always has been, always will be,” he gave you one kiss, deep enough to emphasize the words. It left you dizzy as he went back to his spot, never letting his hand leave your chest. “I just want you to understand that people make mistakes,” he smiled, reassuring. “I’ve made a shit ton.”

You chuckled. “Yeah.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, both of you sharing a knowing laugh.

“But," you started, feeling the need to encourage him as well. "That wasn’t you. You were hurting.”

“So were you, back then,” he reasoned, his voice soft.

“I guess,” you relented slightly. “Elsie told me a lot of this, too, but I just couldn’t believe her. It’s hard to see the good in myself from back then, though, knowing all of the horrific things I did,” you stated simply. You held his hand to your chest as you laid on your back, not wanting him to move it. “I just can’t shake how I let myself forget it so easily. I’ve gone all these years not truly knowing who I was– who I am.”

“Have you ever considered going to therapy again?”

“No,” your heart beat faster at the prospect.

He could feel it, and reacted as such. He came closer to you, his chest and stomach pressing into you, more skin-to-skin to help calm you. “Would you consider it?”

“I don’t know,” you looked down at your hand and his, still over your heart. “Depends, I guess.”

He hummed. “Okay,” he answered, relenting from the hard questions. “How about you work on forgiving yourself and I’ll look into different types of therapy? Let you know what I come across?”

Your heart slowed down, the tiniest smile lifting your lips. Your hand gripped his. Your anchor. Your safety. “Alright.”

-🌼🌼🌼-

A couple days later, you sat on your couch, mesmerized by Jake, who was sitting next to you.

Well, kind of. He was on the cushion at the opposite end of the sofa as you.

All you wanted was to be closer to him, but you knew you couldn’t do that. Honestly, you weren’t sure you could trust yourself.

These days, if he was close enough for you to touch him, you were going to be touching him. Whether it be rubbing his shoulders, playing with his continuously growing hair, or laying on top of him (sometimes naked, sometimes not).

But you were appreciating your vantage point tonight. Watching closely as he played through some new songs with Josh. Josh would sing, and Jake would play the same thing. Jake would play, then Josh would sing it verbatim.

It was interesting to watch them, bouncing off of each other creatively like that.

Twin telepathy at its finest.

You were stuck in a trance, trying your damnedest to give equal attention to Josh, so as not to raise any suspicion. But it was getting harder and harder to resist watching Jake– being near him, day by day.

Trying to find other things to focus on, your eyes floated across the room, observing all of the men around you. They’d all been growing their hair out as well. And, normally, a guy growing his hair out was not a huge deal.

But with these guys? It seemed to you, it was a visual for their changing life. The longer their hair got, the more it was obvious that they were moving onto a new stage of life.

They were becoming rockstars. Truly.

Not only were they making music day in and day out, playing it live every week, preparing for a humongous music festival that would feature many huge bands. . . they were looking more and more like it, too.

But they were still your boys.

Never changing.

Sam’s ever-nasally voice interrupted your rambling thoughts, as if on cue. You smiled in his direction, pointing your attention to him.

“Jake,” he started, excited as he looked intently at his phone screen.

“What, Sam?” He responded with a slight growl to say his younger brother’s name. “Can’t you tell I’m creatively processing?”

Danny let out one loud laugh, his eyes sparkling with a laugh. Josh joined in momentarily, then went back to humming

“Oh, fuck off, Jake,” he rolled his eyes, a smile still adorning his baby face. He trotted his lanky legs over to the couch, sitting between you and your roommate. “Look at this picture of Maya,” he angled the phone so it was right in front of Jake, but turned just right so you couldn’t see it.

You giggled at Jake having to pull away from the bright screen to get a better look. “God, Sam,” he said, annoyed, grabbing the phone out of Sam’s hand. “Turn your fucking brightness down.”

“Don’t tell me how to live my life, Jacob,” he responded, flipping his hair and rolling his eyes. He turned in your direction for support, throwing a thumb behind him at Jake. “He’s annoying.”

You were still laughing as you asked your question. “Who’s Maya?”

“Jake hasn’t told you about Maya?!” He wondered aloud, his voice raising a decibel or two.

“No, I haven’t, Sam,” Jake said, his tone clipped, holding the phone tighter in his firm grip, long fingers flexing around the device. “Shut the fuck up.”

Your brows drew in at his behavior. Now you were dying to know who Maya was and why he was suddenly acting so weird about her.

“I ask again, who is Maya?”

“She’s asking Jake,” Sam stated, as if he’d won. “I’m telling her.”

“Sam–.”

“Maya is Jake’s super hot client that he used to fuck. When he first moved here,” Sam clarified. “Still does, I think. I mean, who wouldn’t?!” Then he laughed, hitting Jake’s stiff arm with the back of his hand.

He was doing what, now?

Chancing a look at the man in question, you noticed he was angry.

Seething was a better term.

You could tell as he gripped the neck of his guitar, his chest rising with constricted breaths, nose flaring, staring at Josh, who was simply shaking his head in return.

Sam took his phone from Jake’s hand, gaining it with some effort. But getting it in his grasp anyway. Right as he’d done so, the hand Jake’d been holding it in clenched to a fist, his jaw tightening. The hand on the neck became dangerously tight.

“Sammy. . .,” Josh tried intervening. His eyes jumped back and forth between each brother, desperate for there to be peace.

Social cues apparently off, Sam was still smiling wide.

“This is Maya,” he said, flashing the phone in front of your face, holding it there for you to get a good, long look.

No. Couldn’t be.

The air left your chest, your vision zeroing in on the bright screen of the phone, everything else blurry around you as your head suddenly felt extremely light, body heavy.

Surely not. . .

You squinted, taking a closer look at the phone before you jumped to any sort of conclusion.

But the house behind her, as well as her long, dark black hair. . .

You knew you were correct in your assumption of who it was.

The joy that the youngest brother exuded was the exact opposite of how you were feeling. The giant stone that had fallen to sit at the bottom of your stomach was suddenly weighing you to the couch.

You nodded at the screen, pushing the device away from you, hands shaking slightly. “You really do need to turn your brightness down, Sam,” you said, clearing your throat as it got painfully tight.

Play it cool, play it cool.

You were working so hard to hide your emotions. A small smile twitched at your lips. The tears in your throat made them wobble a tiny bit.

Stop it, y/n.

Jake’s voice cut through, directly to your ears. “It meant nothing—.”

You didn’t look at him, only focusing back on Sam as he spoke. You tried hard to keep your eyes wide and clear of anything concerning.

“He still sees her for lessons,” he said, wiggling his brows. “What happens at guitar lessons, stays at guitar lessons,” he elbowed Jake’s arm, tense as the muscle in his bicep flexed, fist still bunched. “Am I right, brother?!”

Sam was the only one smiling in the room.

The room was tense, Sam tucking his phone back into the pocket of his silky, vibrant button down. He pushed his sunglasses further into his hair.

You were frozen, not even daring to look up at Jake’s face. You studied your hands, then grabbed your phone off of the coffee table to pretend you were checking it. The frenzied emotions in your gut were not trustworthy. If you looked at him, you were sure you’d fall apart.

It doesn’t mean anything. It’s not like they’re still fucking, you tried to reassure yourself. Right?!

But then, you thought about him taking a while at her house. All of his excuses were adding up.

Had three Ubers really canceled? Or had he just been too busy fucking her and lost track of time?

It made sense, considering the way she’d watched him leave. The hug.

And what he’d said to her right before he got in the car. Talking about his ‘favorite part of his day’ . . . Fuck. Your chest hurt, the words making so much more sense now. . .

His favorite part of the day. . .

Your vision got cloudy. What were you? Sad? Angry? Both? You couldn’t fucking tell.

You just needed to get out of the room.

As you stood up from your spot, your legs wobbled a bit, your mind scrambling for the first excuse that could come to it. “I’ve gotta pee.”

Still not looking at Jake, you walked as fast as you could to the bathroom.

The last thing you heard before shutting the door to the bathroom was Danny’s voice, trying to break the air-right atmosphere.

“How about dinner?”

-🌼🌼🌼-

a/n: uh oh. . .

alsoooo, you'll notice that we haven't even gotten to the scene from the sneak peek yet. . . all of that will come to you in part 2. . . see you again soon, loves ;)

send in your thoughts!! i love hearing from you <3

thank you for being the best readers in the world!!! love you all so much!

& as usual, it wouldn’t let me tag some of y’all. :( so please check to see that you’re down there because if you’ve asked to be on the taglist, i tried to tag you. buuuut tumblr wouldn’t let me do it for everyone 🙃 ugh. and if i somehow forgot to tag someone, please also let me know that! (i'm a NOOB and i have terrible memory)

Taglist: @joshym, @gretavanfleetposts, @alyson814, @fretaganvleet, @lallisonl, @writingcold, @gvfpal, @twinszka, @jessicafg03, @reesetrippingthelight, @sacredjake, @laurenlovesgretavanfleet, @gretavangroove, @222headedcalf, @dreamssingold, @carbondancingthroughtime, @raviolilegs, @way-to-go-lad, @jakekiszkasmommy, @katgvf, @objectsinspvce, @jaketlover, @vanfleeter, @thetroublegetssloud71, @seditabets, @jakekiszkapunchmeintheface, @jaketlove, @ohgodthefeeling-gvf, @starcatcher-jake, @anythingforjtk, @lucimoo, @indigostreakmorgan, @gretavanbear, @katelynn-gvf, @alwaysonthemend, @aintthatapity, @bowievanfleet, @fwzco, @takenbythemadness, @cherry-icecreamsmile, @laneygvf, @hi-hi-hello11, @sinarainbows, @jakesbarbarian, @mybussyinchrist, @becinabubblegvf, @heckingfrick, @danigvf, @pinkandsleepy1934, @derrangeddumpsterfire, @klarxtr, @josh-iamyour-mama, @abby-gvf, @cassyface, @gretavansabotage, @torniturntomyarrow, @joshsbonnet, @llrosee

Fill this form out if you'd like to join my taglist!

#jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka fic #jake kiszka fanfic #jake kiszka smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet fanfic #jake fic #jake kiszka #covet #my fics

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turtlecleric · 4 months

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Masterpost

Hey, I'm Cleric! This is my TMNT x Reader sideblog. Something is Very Wrong with me, and I'm here to both receive and inflict psychic damage via fictional turtle men. 18+!! All characters aged up 💕 I do not take requests, sorry!!

MINORS. DO. NOT. INTERACT.

Minors and blogs that do not indicate that they are adults in their bio, masterpost, or about page will be blocked.

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Navigation

If you're looking for content on a specific turtle, I tag stuff like this: iteration!turtle

Iterations: 03, 07, bay, and rise

Turtles: leo, raph, donnie, and mikey

So, for example, if you're looking for stuff with Donnie from Rise, that's tagged as #rise!donnie

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TurtleCleric Scrolls (stuff I've written) - This post was getting waaay too long, so I'm only going to add links here for pieces that are at least 500 words. If you want to see everything, just search the #turtlecleric scrolls tag. I mostly write with a female reader in mind. Please make sure to heed the content warnings!

2003

Yes, Leonardo - NSFW; Leo does a scene with Reader; 1612 words

2007

Perfect - NSFW; Viole(n)t Part 1 (Leo and Raph are in a relationship with reader and share her in bed); 1785 words

Just Right - NSFW; Viole(n)t Part 2; 2707 words

Just For Me - NSFW; Viole(n)t, early relationship; Raph is pissed and uses reader to get back at Leo; 1596 words

Bay

Get Out - Angst; Donnie wants to help reader during a depressive episode, but reader pushes him away; 657 words

Shark Week - Comfort; Donnie takes care of you on your period; 617 words

Be Mine? - Angst; Reader has a not-very-good Valentine's Day, only for Mikey to show up and make it better (featuring mutually pining idiots); 1056 words

New Drug - Angst; Mikey x Addict!Reader, casual sex with pining; Reader's POV is 849 words; Mikey's POV is 1561 words

Nightmare - Hurt/Comfort; Mikey feels guilty about reader's past assault; 881 words

Interrupted - NSFW; Mikey thinks about reader while masturbating; 1760 words

Sparkle - NSFW; Mikey and reader have some spicy time for her birthday; 2634 words

Deserved - Angst; a continuation of something dear Yorshie wrote, read this first; Raph comes across reader on a job without knowing it's her; 820 words [baby's first reader fic!]

Too Late - Angst; happens during/right after Deserved and is Raph's POV; 890 words

Not Your Fault - Angst/Hurt/Comfort?; Raph accidentally triggers a panic attack/dissociative episode in reader; 1522 words

Stupid - Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Reader starts crying during spicy time, and Donnie comforts her; 1247 words

Rise

Gone - Angst; SymphonyBadFuture!Leo helps Donnie on a bad grief day (there is no reader in this one). Won't make sense if you haven't read Symphony by desceros (go read symphony holy shit go read symphony RIGHT NOW I'm BEGGING YOU)

Lucky - NSFW; Donnie likes it when you pin him (my addition is at the bottom of the post); 1092 words [baby's first smut!]

Beat. Past Tense. - Angst; Leo finds reader, but not quickly enough; 699 words

Safe - Angst/Hurt/Comfort?; Reader is kidnapped and Leo saves her; 1448 words

Let Me Take Care of You - Angst/Hurt/Comfort; Leo checks on you during a depressive episode (this started as an "imagine if" and then slipped into fic territory by the end); ~600 words

Good Morning - NSFW; Reader wakes up to find that she orgasmed in her sleep while laying with Leo; heed the warnings; 534 words

I Feel It Coming - NSFW; Leo wakes reader up for some spicy time; 2073 words

Sleepy - Cute?; Raph realizes he likes reader; 855 words

I See You - Angst/Hurt/Comfort?; Leo is fine, but he's really, really not; 835 words

I Know Now - NSFW; reader wants to feel what Donnie feels when he has his mating seasons; 2938 words

What Did I Do? - NSFW; HEAVY ANGST; Raph is forced to mate with reader; HEED THE CONTENT WARNINGS; 3403 words

Brownies - Hurt/Comfort; Leo comes to reader for help; 869 words

Trapped - Angst ...horror? with rise!Raph as the Trapper character from Dead by Daylight and the reader as a survivor in the trial; 4181 words

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Tag List (for my own future reference - please shoot me an ask or tag me in a post/reply if you'd like to added to the list!)

@yorshie, @luckycharms1701, @thejudiciousneurotic, @khayalli, @thelaundrybitch, @mxalmighty, @justalotoffanfiction, @shakeyourtrees

#i hope to god it won't notify tagged people every time I update this #masterpost #if you find any links that are wrong please lmk!!

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foressfaction · 2 months

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Toby Headcanons

First things first, rewrite link —> https://www.wattpad.com/story/330185513-ticci-toby-a-rewrite?utm_source=android&utm_medium=link&utm_content=story_info&wp_page=story_details_button&wp_uname=foressfaction&wp_originator=4ym0kekpamjg%2byu500owdfcdlnhtpkigcby1thrmnvj95d4u%2f2vtey8ihglpowcvuy8icvezeljevfn%2fbufrp

Fair warning, I am the Toby enthusiast so you’re in for a long read. If you actually care enough to read all this, keep in mind there are some triggering topics for well… everything. That’s also including the other links leading to other posts of mine. Read with caution. I go into heavy detail about topics that are usually pretty sensitive.

Family headcanons—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/734266713806405633/basic-family-head-canons-for-toby

Operator headcanons—> WIP

Him with Jack—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/735560061461594112/my-jack-and-toby-headcanons-theyre-bfs

Him with Natalie—> https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/746264454600278016/toby-and-clockwork-some-headcanon-takes-on-this

Him and Lyra —> WIP

Him and Cross-X—>WIP

The main basics

He can't read, he has always had trouble reading. He can get simple sentences and phrases but actual literature like books, newspapers, or anything over half a paragraph long, he can't read it.

Due to losing his memories, he lost knowledge of what normal people do. He doesn't know social cues that well. You could come up to him and say that you want to be his friend and he'd look like a clueless child.

Never having a friend before, anything of the sort now would make him suspicious of you, or just not trust you.

He has very very bad trust issues, meaning he thinks everyone is out to get him. Which may not be true, though he can't help but think it due to his anxiety.

He is terrified of vehicles, and riding in them. Though he doesn't remember why. His body still reacts with trauma he doesn't recall experiencing.

This is kinda annoying for him.

He can run incredibly fast and has almost unlimited stamina. He knows his limits though and never pushes his body to the extent due to the fact he will lose mobility for the next hour or so trying to regain his breath.This may lead to him potentially passing out.

He will only run to his full abilities if he is in severe danger (or feel he is)

He loves the smell of lavender, it makes him tired and relaxed. It is the only thing that will help him sleep.

He still bites his nails so he sometimes will coat his nails in either nail polish (yes he paints his nails sometimes) or will get that nasty tasting polish. It depends. He's very insecure about his hands and so he will paint his nails to make them look a little better.

Along with the aid of sleep, basic company helps a lot. It would have to be someone he's close with or at least knows to an extent. Just having someone there, regardless of distance or their position in the area, really helps him sleep.

He's easy to make friends with but it'll take some time for him to get used to you. He'd want to know a lot of things first and learn more about you.

His favorite season is fall, and his favorite spice is Parsley. He loves the smell.

He can't cook but if he was to ever help someone with cooking (which…Is a bad idea anyways) he'd probably sprinkle a little parsley in secretly.

He is of German descent but can't speak it. (unless operator is controlling him, in that case he ONLY speaks it)

He has two marks in the shape of the operator symbol on his upper left arm and lower right side. They are scars as they were once carved into the skin and slowly scarred over.

He would be the type of person who would lay his forehead on your cheek and stare waiting for an apology or just if he was in a playful mood.

He also sucks on his candy canes until they are quite literally a deadly weapon.

I feel like he would run up stairs so fast he literally trips up them. This also goes with anytime he needed to run, it's an immediate sprint, no working up speed, no preparing his legs, literally gone- this might cause trip ups occasionally. Imagine getting hit by an axe then you hear footsteps with a loud thud following after.

He isn't very picky with food, I feel he'd eat what normally people wouldn't, like the top piece and last piece of a bread loaf, or spaghettios cold, not warmed. Same with hot dogs, he may not boil the weenie, who knows it depends.

If anyone took the bread crusts off their sandwiches he would eat those alone- i think he likes bread guys.

He probably wets his socks or pillow in the summer to feel cool, sometimes would probably just walk around with a cold wet towel draped over his head.

Lyra would occasionally make fun of him for being shorter than her for most of their childhood until he would have eventually grown taller if she hadn't passed.

He would've gotten back at her.

She definitely picked on him a lot in a playful manner and he'd always overreact. Definitely a stereotypical 'get out of my room' emo kid. He'd definitely be a stoner if we're talking normal mansion au thing. Bro would probably be high 25/8, mainly so he doesn't feel like shit all the time.

He'd meow back or bark back at animals who do so to him. He'd growl at anything growling at him and eventually these would plainly turn into tics. Now he'd just meow or bark/growl out of absolutely no where.

He'd definitely be pretty flexible, upon somehow squeezing into places like cabinets and tiny closets to avoid capture or getting spotted, he had always been pretty maneuverable-?? He'd probably purposely freak people out by doing literal gymnastic poses just out of the blue. I'd imagine he'd break, fracture or pop out of socket bones without knowing it due to not feeling the actual pain of the strain he puts on them. Therefore he ignores it and one day if he just decides to do a backbend then he just goes for it.

He loves peaches and anything peach flavored. Usually when savaging for food, canned peaches are his main target. He would almost completely avoid a store if they had none. He isn't picky at all, of course, but he'd like at least one thing of his personal liking if he's going out of his way to steal it. It HAS to be the canned ones. He doesn't fuckin know how to peel an actual peach? And I figured if anything he'd HATE the fuzzy skin on it and would absolutely have a meltdown. ( based on me). If someone handed him a FULL ASS UNSKINNED peach. He would look at you like 'What am I supposed to do with this….'

I also headcanon that he got his hat from Lyra as when they were younger and she was still alive, she worked at a mailing company sorting the mail. The symbol on the hat looks like a yellow envelope. She gave it to him when she quit so he could wear it and stuff.

He'd absolutely love spiderman and silly things like star wars and transformers. He's definitely more of a Marvel guy and probably owns/owned tons of spiderman themed clothing.

Toby would always comfort Lyra after her rough days at work. I feel she'd fall asleep on the couch immediately after sitting down. He would crawl up beside her and just curl up against her, also falling asleep. She'd always wake up before him and take him to bed soon after.

I feel he would have trouble making eye contact but it's for a completely different reason than most. It's not because he's awkward but because he genuinely doesn't know how to look at someone. Unless its a partner or a really close friend. He will avoid eye contact at least for too long. If he's actually able to hold contact with someone that's a sign he's growing comfortably that they wont hurt him.

It stems from his father shaming him for just looking at the man the wrong way anf sometimes that led to physical disputes that he wishes to avoid from any possible individual. He has a natural resting bitch face so it's not hard to mistake his look as something spiteful.

When he stutters it's not a tic, it has nothing to do with his TS, it's just a speech impediment and is very VERY insecure about it because of how many times he's been called annoying or told to just 'hurry up and say it, i don't have time for this', something along those lines.

- His tics include facial grimaces, snapping his fingers or jaws every now and then, hitting himself, or others around pretty hard, tapping his foot or whistling. He will blurt random ass shit as well (this i will sometimes add into the rp, it can be kinda funny, sometimes inappropriate) ex: "suck my loli" or "shitty shoe" shit like that.

- Appearance wise, nothing really changed. His eye color did however. Instead of that dark brown, it's a hazel green. He's probably around 5'6 overall. Plus he's extremely frail and unhealthy. He is covered and when i say covered, I mean covered in freckles. Shoulders, arms and his face are where they really are noticeable. Like normal, his hair is the same, dark and frizzy. It has a little bit of curl to it but mainly it's just wavy and fluffy.

-He still bites his hands since he's never really broken that habit, so you'd never really see him without bandages on his hands.

-Personality wise, he's pretty feral. Even as a teenager. He can be stalker-ish and weird. He's still pretty damn timid though since..hello social anxiety.

Toby is extremely neurodivergent. He stims and tics all of the time. He can't handle certain smells, tastes, textures. Specifically wet hands on any cold dry surface, or per say, chewing on a piece of steak or anything chewy for more than 6 seconds MAX. He can't have food touching and has to use multiple forks/spoons/knives when he has a meal.

-Toby can't stand the sight of his own blood. It causes him to break down and literally freak out. He has a strange phobia of organs and bones of his own coming out of where they shouldn't be. He is very sensitive with wounds in the torso area due to this exact organ phobia.

(He's had dreams where he literally had to hold his organs inside so they wouldn't fall out.

🌿Appearance Headcanons🌿

[F]He pretty much stayed the same, originally, he started with just a few freckles here and there, but how i see him, a full face of freckles, and all over him, arms, back, neck, just everywhere. This also goes for scars. He has lots of rather unique ones. Especially on his back. He has two deep gash scars right on his shoulder blades that look like he once had wings. At least that's how he wants to see it.

[F] His teeth had kinda been crooked from all of the pressure onto them throughout his childhood and due to his teeth actually getting knocked out when he was little. (his baby teeth of course) his adult teeth never really wanted to grow in right.

- I find it better if he is 19-25years old, him as any older kinda feels weird to me since i am used to portraying him as a late teen or in his early/mid twenties. This really depends on how he'll be used and the story i will go by

- His hair is still the same. Still a dark chocolate brown. It's just a lot messier, or well, very fluffy With a few curls.

- He is still very pale but still slightly more tan than how he is originally, his skin has a pastel peach light tone (just a normal pale person) and not like the light grey people usually see him as.

-His face is very scarred, but the one that stands out the most is the iconic tear, or gash in his right cheek. It exposes muscle, and his teeth from the side. It's very disgusting so he keeps hidden with masks, or bandages.

Visage and wardrobe

Adding this in last second but I feel his closet is FULL with brown grunge grey and green flannels and layered shirts and grandpa sweaters. He’s your average grunge Pinterest guy you’d find on every corner of the internet but he’s stylish unconsciously. He throws shit together he thinks looks good and apparently it actually does. One day he’d be rocking a fire fit and the next he looks like he came right out of a dumpster as most of his older clothes are torn and sheared up from well… living where he does. He prefers layers no matter what season it is but will occasionally wear sleeveless stuff and shorts. Probably owns a few shark themed pieces and along with what I said earlier. Some marvel and other stuff. Probably from the kids section who knows honestly. All of the tags on his clothes are faded.

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/743158587608727552/while-im-on-art-block-heres-some-stupid-shit-toby

Persona🌿

His personality is pretty much the same. He's a little more timid though. He actually has a big heart, despite him being a potential serial killer, he still has a few soft spots and a heart. He will care and love for someone, but in order to really earn his trust, someone would have to repeatedly prove that they are worthy of it. He's literally insane, meaning he can be really up and active in a hypomanic way. He's pretty childish around those he knows, but doesn't trust those he doesn't, in fact, those he doesn't know will most likely be ignored or get small, nervous/annoyed responses. He's easy to make friends with since his persona is very passive, he's really sweet in some situations and the next he'd be having a mental breakdown or some kind of manic attack.

-He's very jumpy and easily startled, and would most likely flinch or try to shield himself if someone moves too fast around him. This is due to his trauma and slight PTSD.

-He is touch starved, meaning when he does get affection he'd get extremely confused, weirded out or just plainly get emotional. He didn't get much love and was reminded daily that he was a sack of shit and he finds it hard to believe anyone would love him.

Canonically, he never had a sexuality, meaning he could be any sexual orientation you want. For me, he is Biromantic/Asexual. For him, relationships would have to move slowly, not just kiss kiss fall in love type of shit. You'd have to become his friend first, and of course be loyal and such. It isn't easy at all for him to fall into a relationship, in fact that's the last thing on his mind. Since he believes he is unlovable, no one would even like him in such a way, so he gives up and just sticks to what he has to do.

[Fluffy HC!]

-If the whole mansion concept is being used, he would definitely be very dramatic and really in character if he was to roleplay or play a game with Sally. If he was given a role he will make sure he fills it as accurately as possible just to make her happy. He has a soft spot for children obviously. Unless The Operator is in control.

-If he is good friends or in a relationship with someone, he will generate a nickname based off of your appearance. It would usually consist of cute characteristics he sees in you, and sometimes he'll base it off of your personality. If not, if he's feeling silly, he'll call you a nickname based on random objects. "How's my favorite frying pan this morning?"

Romance?

Toby thinks love is just a fantasy, and no one could love him, much less return the feelings, so love is the last thing on his mind. Though he thinks about what it would be like to have a partner

-He would be so emotional if he even gets a hug, much less feelings being confessed, or confessing his own but Toby may accidentally slip it out, or tell them just to get it off his chest and carry on like it means nothing but on the inside he knows it does and will beat himself up about it

-I think he'd definitely act differently as well, especially his tics would act up more as well around them because he's really nervous and maybe say random things to shoo off the feeling like nothing was there to begin with.

Habits

- He still bites his nails and inner cheek but does it when he's really stressed or nervous. He's really fidgety so he'd mess with anything loose or even would twirl his hair, soon he did it so much his hair got used to it and began to get slightly curly but mostly just wavy.

- [F]He grits his teeth a lot. He'll do it randomly.

-[F] His ADHD still affects him now, so it's hard for him to focus on one thing at once and gets easily distracted. Its a bad habit

Mentality🌿

- Nothing really changed. He still suffers with his disabilities, just some stopped affecting him as much after he reached 17 originally. Being schizophrenia and Anxiety. But this headcanon still suffers with those two despite his age. This explains why he can see the operator, which brings me to the next change.

He had suffered from Schizophrenia since he was 7 years old. So he's been seeing this entity his whole life. Making so much happen and of course all of the deaths in his life was blamed upon the entity.

- [F]Since he cannot feel pain, there is a high chance that he could have hurt himself very badly and not know. So every now and then he does check ups on himself, especially after something brutal happened or had gotten into a fight. He could be perfectly fine one second ago then faint due to blood loss and wake up not even knowing what happened. This is really hard for him since a really bad wound that could grow fatal could be anywhere and he wouldn't know. So a check up on himself here and there could really save his ass.

Story🌿

- Everything pretty much stayed the same. The deaths, the conflicts. The only thing that really changed was the cause of the deaths.

- However, after the ending, where the fire nearly took his life, he couldn't remember anything on why he was there, or how he ended up in this situation. He blacked out and woke up in a whole different area of the dense forest. He no longer remembered a thing but every time he'd try and get close to coming back to the past, it would all happen again.

- He never remembered anything, even after he had murdered someone, in fact he doesn't even like doing that. He despises the fact that he should murder innocent people, however sometimes, he will see the face of a man he hated so dearly but didn't remember why.

-Amongst the crime scene, after he had murdered someone, he'd sit and stare at what he had done, a huge moment of lucidity would take over him, making everything come back for those few moments. Then his mind would wipe blank once again and he'd go on like nothing ever happened. During those moments, he'd regret spilling the blood of the victim, and hate on himself even more, while violent memories and thoughts ran through his mind, making him feel less and less stable. This sometimes knocked him out, and he'd be there, unconscious at the scene which isn't good since that's how ya get caught and arrested.

He lives in a small shed in the middle of Rosswood Park/forest. His shed is deep deep in the woods, he had never lived in the mansion. (might will make something work for roleplay use)

Before anything, these are just my changes and adjustments I made to either fit a better way of my liking/needs and to just plainly make more sense.

Disorder list and how it all affects him.

Tourettes Syndrome

A shared headcanon: Toby has coprophilia (uncontrolled cursing), which is actually an uncommon symptom, but seeing that he was unfit for public school, it would make sense in his case. Most tics are not debilitating (but can be discomforting, obviously), so Toby’s TS must be an extreme case. So my headcanon of his verbal tics being coprophilia makes sense. He is an extreme case and has complex verbal tics (coprophilia is classified as a complex phonic tic and not a simple phonic tic). This was one of the reasons he was unfit for public school, along with being bullied for his motor tics. It doesn’t mention anything about him having verbal tics in his story or implying that he has coprophilia—but again, Wade did not know much about TS, so I headcanon him to have it as it makes more sense. He also seems to just have simple motor tics (generally brief movements involving spasmodic, non-rhythmic muscle contractions) ie. jerking his head and other limbs occasionally. However, since he was unfit to go to normal school and therefore should be an extreme case, I headcanon him to also have complex motor tics (more purposeful movements such as: grimacing, tapping, walking in a specific pattern or circling, jumping, kicking, or punching), mainly kicking and punching/hitting and slapping. This would make much more sense because tho he still would probably get made fun of for just simple motor tics, that alone shouldn’t stop him from being too unfit for regular school. His are obviously chronic and do not disappear as he gets older, unlike with many cases.

-So there are my headcanons on his TS and tics. They make much more sense, and if Wade had actually known about TS more, would probably be what they would have given him. I’m not entirely sure if you can have both simple and complex tics of the same type, but I don’t see why not, so I headcanon him to have both simple and complex motor and phonic tics. His simple verbal tics include clearing his throat, grunting and other short repetitive noises. Typically he usually grunts and makes said repetitive noises more but will compulsively clear his throat, sometimes with coughing, from time to time. Said repetitive noises often happen while trying to speak and will act up if he is nervous or very excited. His complex phonic tics, like I stated before, is coprolalia along with sømetimes muttering or shouting random words spontaneously.

Again, his complex verbal tics act up when he is nervous or very excited etc. He tends to curse randomly while talking and sometimes will say random words which sometimes makes it very difficult for him to talk and make coherent sentences. Cursing is his more common complex verbal tic while sputtering random words is less common for him. Most days it isn’t too bad and he mostly just swears when talking (along with all his other tics but I’m focusing on how it affects his speech right now), but sometimes he’ll have days where talking is very difficult and he stutters trying to get the words out and can’t make coherent sentences. Again, it gets even worse when he’s nervous or very excited. For his simple motor tics, he mainly jerks and cracks his neck along with jerking his other limbs in weird ways that often cause his joints to pop and make a cracking sound.

Sometimes they’re violent enough that if he could feel pain it would hurt him and occasionally injuring himself cause ie. tearing or pulling a muscle (which is shit as he can’t feel pain so doesn’t notice anything is wrong most of the time). Again, like always, these tend to get worse and act up when he’s nervous or very excited. Often when cracking and jerking his head he will also grunt or make said repetitive noise as he does so. His complex motor tics include throwing things, punching, slapping, hitting and kicking either himself, anything and anyone he can reach or is close to him, and if nothing is around, the air itself. These are less frequent than his simple motor tics, but as he is an extreme case, they are still a common occurrence for him. Again, like all his other tics, they tend to act up when he’s nervous or very excited, but not as much as all the others. His simple motor tics act up more when he’s nervous or very excited more than his complex motor tics. When they do act up more, which ones tend to depend on how he’s feeling. If he’s feeling stressed, nervous or sad, he tends to hit or punch, kick slap, ‘hurt’ himself more. If he’s angry it’s a mix of hitting, slapping and punching himself along with kicking, punching and throwing nearby things. If the emotions are positive he tends to backhand anything that might be nearby, just doing that motion if there’s nothing to hit, throwing things, kicking his legs out or slapping himself in the face, and occasionally punching if he’s really happy or excited. He must be careful cause he tends to punch nearby people in the face when that happens, most of the time pretty hard. He always feels super bad whenever that happens and tries to hit himself instead so he doesn’t punch someone in the face when excited. Sometimes if his tics, mainly his complex motor tics, are acting up badly, he’ll drop down on the floor and roll around a bit as he hits the ground and air and lets everything out in a little fit. It’s best to quickly move him to an opener area if he can feel a bad tic fit coming on so he can lay down where he’s not going to hit or throw anyone/anyone. It’s best to just let him get it out unless it’s partially violent and he’s in danger of hurting himself (jerking too hard etc.) or if he’s doing it to himself particularly hard and violently. He is an extreme case so he tics everyday, but some days, if he’s really lucky, it won’t happen too often and will mostly just have simple tics that don’t get in the way of day to day life too badly. On the other hand, he can have very bad days where his tics act up, his complex tics especially, where they happen very frequently and he can’t make it stop or slow down and has multiple violent tic fits where he usually ends up breaking and destroying a lot of things and hurting himself, sometimes pretty badly, especially since he cannot feel it and will try to direct things towards himself instead of whatever’s around him. And yeah, those are my headcanons on Toby’s TS and different tics. I headcanon him to be an extreme case (since that would make the most sense given how he’s supposed to not be fit for normal school since it’s that bad). I also headcanon it to actually get worse as he grows up, especially as his mental health deteriorates. I could probably go on about this more but I’ve rambled enough and I think I kinda went on a bit long, so I’ll try and stop myself here now.

ADHD

He does have ADHD, meaning he usually has sudden outbursts of energy. He shows this by getting easily distracted during times he should be occupied by one thing, instead he'd be interested in literally everything else but what he should be. Because of this, he wasn't fit for school, or anything of the such.

He doesn't take medicine for this, since he can't exactly get his hands on it, or thinks that he needs it.

He lets out his energy by running around in an open space, pacing back and forth, tapping or scratching with his fingers, or tapping his foot/bouncing his leg. Usually his ADHD acts up more when he's excited or trying to concentrate. He bites his nails because of it as well.

He can't focus on one thing at once, and would be distracted by the littlest things like a lizard on a tree, or even a bug flying around his face. He'd stop what he was doing before and focus more on that other than what he should be focusing on. He never exactly thought of it as something bad but usually he'd forget what he was doing before and that something could have been important.

Dermatophagia

note: Dermatophagia is what's known as a body-focused repetitive behavior (BFRB). It goes beyond just nail biting or occasionally chewing on a finger. It's not a habit or a tic, but rather a disorder. People with this condition gnaw at and eat their skin, leaving it bloody, damaged, and, in some cases, infected.

This was a lot worse when he was younger, but he still does it as he grows up. It can get so bad that he has to wrap his hands up by himself and fight the urge to feel the skin in between his teeth. He doesn't just bite his own hands however, he does it to his arms randomly. He'd bite into any of his arms for some odd reason but never hard enough to make them bleed. This of course depends on how hard he bites into them. This happens when he is usually upset in any way, and takes the anger out on himself or a nearby flat surface, like a wall or table.

This harms him badly, but since he can't feel it, he doesn't know when to stop, making this 10 times worse than any normal case. He's gone as far as to nearly gnaw off the skin of his knuckle, exposing the muscle underneath, almost to the bone. This isn't as bad as when he was younger, but when he gets upset in a way, he will still struggle with the problem of gnawing on his hands

I am missing some here, that being BPD, Schizophrenia, psychosis, and autism. I’m aware some are just mere disabilities but I want to do more research before I go into these sensitive topics.

Some more smaller posts with undocumented headcanons

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/746629900867371008/so-i-headcanon-toby-to-be-a-phat-stoner-so

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/744151888116711424/i-have-so-much-on-this-dude-hes-been-through

- https://www.tumblr.com/foressfaction/748800526075985920/another-day-another-essay-toby-is-a-closed-off

#creepypasta #ifyouplagarizethisiwillfindyou #slenderverse #foressfaction #ticci toby #toby rogers #eyeless jack #clockwork #creepypasta headcanon #ticci toby headcanons #headcanons #headcanon #foressfactionheadcanons #if

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rin-and-jade · 1 year

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Guys, did you know that alters still and will form/split from little T's and Micro T's? Well now you do!

Whenever you are living your life, doing your day, with no recurrence of childhood trauma for a good while.. but you still seem to have new peeps? Yet you don't know why?? Fret not as i tell you some, although not an extensive list of reasons such as;

The Lil' T, things that aren't as severe as the Big OG Trauma but still enough to waver you:

Financial issues

Relationship conflicts (hostility, or inconsistent emotional support)

Having debilitating/chronic health issues (be it physical or mental)

Neglect, victim of harrasment/bullying, invalidation and etc (in mild forms, clarification on below)

The Micro T, that are capable to annoy you like a fly, though you still have a limit to these type of T's:

Working a job with high demands, or a stressful environment

Chasing a deadline (and not just this once)

Bad triggers

Involved in arguments often (aha, i know you still think about it)

Now you're asking, "what should i do then, Jade?" and because you need some prompts (tips), here you go:

Relaxation techniques: when you feel like you're going to explode (or something lit up the fuse recently) then its logical to blow the fire out before it can actually explode. Things like having a warm shower, taking care of yourself, or some time off to wind down for a moment will help.

Regulating feelings: antsy? mad? upset? or "dshsdfhgjfds"? Instead of shoving the feelings away, please let yourself feel it, acknowledge that you are currently feeling and understand why it happened, what's the cause, talk it out to someone to feel better but yelling inside or writing in the private server also works.

Outlets: If you feel like writing down isn't enough/helpful, then maybe doing art, crushing some empty cans, or going to your trusty support group will do just fine.

Therapy: got money but not people? Do yourself a favor and try it, you'll learn lots of coping mechanisms, plus you'll have support and someone to talk to so thats a big win.

Mindset: Having an accepting and self-supporting thoughts are way better than devaluing and adding extra blames and faults as it perpetuates the cycle of stress and pressure, so why not go easy on yourself from now on?

I know you might think that its not severe enough, its not bad enough, but from now one you have to think differently, no matter how big or small, it is still stress, and when stress builds up all those things happen. (to top it off with other issues such as bad internal communication and brain fog) And it make sense because the severe ones are enough to form new peeps, same goes for the tiny ones but are consistent, okay?

I personally struggle with this LOTS even if traumas from the past aren't happening again yet i still have subsystems and all, and after a good while of practicing, it now barely happens. Hope this is also helpful for you guys since the previous post about dissociation was a hit!!! Click here to see it

Edit: it came to my attention that i forgot to clarify that yes, harassment, bullying and etc as it’s own severe form and can be classified as the OG Trauma, though there are minor forms especially in bullying where it’s extents from calling names and other stuffs that aren’t as harmful in a physical form.

- j

#did #did community #actually did #did system #dissociative identity disorder #did osdd #plural #system stuff #sysblr #Jeducates

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wordwovencackle · 3 months

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I never felt so uncomfortable about the voices of other bisexual people until trans rights activists, the majority of whom are bisexual, have become so comfortably homophobic.

There have always been bad apples. But now, when lesbians aren't even allowed their own spaces to talk about being solely attracted to the same sex, I've frequently felt sick to my stomach. There is no reason why those can't exist alongside a shared space for homosexuals and bisexuals, but here we are! I see many bisexuals who are so deprived of talking about their same-sex attraction, experiences, struggles and joy that they are desperate to connect with openly homosexuals but homosexuals are rightfully wary of risking what little they have left. There are barely any lesbian spaces in real life or online left!

I'm sick of bisexuals dictating what homosexuals should or shouldn't be attracted to and yes, I'm also pointing at trans rights activists for being insanely homophobic and going too far by spewing conversion therapy rhetoric like saying someone's sex doesn't matter during sex, or going stealth until clothes come off and traumatising or triggering the other, or lying to trans people in general that their "masculinity" or "feminity" changes their sex or that they can change their sex through surgery, which trickled down to calling homosexuals transphobic at the drop of a hat.

Since when do homosexuals owe you affirmation? Since when do you feel entitled to their spaces? Why did the majority of bisexuals see this happen and just shrug because they aren't monosexual and thus not the target?

"Genital fetishists," are you all daft? A fetish is a form of sexual desire in which gratification is strongly linked to a particular object or activity or a part of the body other than the sexual organs. The attraction towards genitals is intrinsic to sexuality and sexual attraction. I feel like I'm perpetually talking to first graders.

I'm so disgusted with the online bisexual "community" for blindly nodding their heads like spineless, "no infighting please" puppies. Do you think none of this matters? How safe must your life be to not care about others?

As a bisexual, what occurred that made you think you could comment on the experience of monosexuals? And I'm well aware many call themselves "gay," or "lesbian," while being bisexual. If you have a vagina and you would have sex with someone with a penis, you're not a lesbian. If you have a penis and you would have sex with someone with a vagina, you're not gay. If neither of you have the same genitalia, it's not homosexuality.

"Labels don't matter," was for those who weren't sexually awakened and were figuring themselves out. But this is what it has led to: the utter deterioration of homosexual spaces, and it's vile and there should be a lot more shame about it.

I'm glad that in personal relations and daily life, the connection between bisexuals and homosexuals is a bit better. But the physical gay and lesbian spaces we were once proud of are now paradoxically wary of homosexuals for fear of being called transphobic.

And I'm also blaming bisexuals for not being critical. For prioritising fetishes and kinks before sexuality. For not listening to the experiences of people with a sexuality different from their own varied, but not exhaustive, experiences. I'm blaming bisexuals for not standing up for homosexuals.

I'm not ashamed of being bisexual. I've never been ashamed of it and I never will be. I'll post this post and continue like normal - and isn't that a privilege?

I will always love other bisexuals who aren't homophobic. There are plently, but there should be more. And louder.

#bisexual #bisexuality #bisexual community #lgb #cotton ceiling #bisexual homophobia #woke homophobia #lgbt #modern homophobia #to non-homophobic bisexuals: “this is a positivity post to you all ily”

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sihtricfedaraaahvicius · 3 months

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Halloween chapter 11

Note: so, uh, this came out way earlier than expected. I'm sorry about that and sorry for what you're about to read. please read this post before you read this fic.

Warnings: angst, mention of blood, death, injuries. There are other possible triggers but I cannot state them because it will spoil the entire fic, so please proceed with caution if you have been triggered by earlier chapters of this fic.

pairing: Modern!Sihtric x you (f)

summary: Something had changed between you and Sihtric.

wordcount: 3,3k

Masterlist

Sihtric woke up, completely oblivious of the time as his room was darkened and quiet. He felt his wrists ache, a reminder of the metal chains he had been restrained with before he fell asleep. He liked it when you chained him up, because you did it so carefully and gently, making sure he wasn't harmed in the process, but he always felt he had been tugging at the chains a day later. He turned around in bed, wanting to pull your body against his but he couldn't find you next to him. He whined softly, hugging the sheets instead, and he smiled when he remembered how your lips had felt against his after you had restrained him. He tossed and turned a few times, not being able to fall asleep again now that you weren't next to him anymore, and he then got out of bed.

He smiled when he found you sitting at his table, drinking tea, and he took a seat across from you.

'How are your wrists today?' you asked compassionately.

'Not too bad,' Sihtric said and held his hands out to you, showing the bruising on his skin.

'Poor thing,' you whispered at the sight and gave him a faint smile, 'it's like the full Moon changes you. It looks like you tried to break out of the chains.'

'I only break out of rope.'

'I bet,' you smiled, 'that's why we don't use rope on you.'

'There's no fun in rope,' he chuckled.

'You remain a mystery, Sihtric,' you said sweetly, 'now, tell me about the dreams you've had.'

Sihtric looked at you for a moment, puzzled, but then remembered how the last thing you had discussed before you had him chained up was that he had been having vivid dreams lately, and he shook his head lightly as he recalled them.

'The dreams,' he said, 'I don't believe they were just dreams.'

'Then what do you believe they are?'

'You'll think I'm insane,' he mumbled.

'Try me.'

Sihtric looked at you, quietly, contemplating if he was going to tell you what he truly believed. He was afraid he'd scare you off, despite all the things you'd been through with him already. Something felt different today, but he didn't know what. He noticed you were a little distant lately, and waking up without you next to him had already unsettled him to start with. He couldn't point out what the problem was and he was afraid that telling you about the dreams he's had lately would only push you away further. But he also loved you and couldn't lie to you. And you knew that too, so when you saw he looked troubled this morning, even more so than usual, you knew it would be a matter of time before he'd open up to you. And so you waited patiently for him to speak.

'Why are you sitting so far away from me, love?'

'It's just better to keep some distance right now, Sihtric. I'm sorry, but after yesterday...' you sighed, 'just, please talk to me… what about those dreams?'

'I believe these so-called dreams I've had lately are more,' he paused and rubbed his eyes, then sighed, 'a reality of sorts. Like… it's more than a dream. It connects us.'

'Us?'

'Yes, us. You and me, sweet thing.'

Sihtric smiled softly and you felt yourself blush, his charm always got to you and swept you off your feet, even when he sometimes frightened you.

'So I'm not sure they are dreams,' he continued, 'it seems to me they are bits and pieces of… of previous lives we've had.'

'Previous lives?' you frowned, 'that we had? Together you mean?'

'Yes,' Sihtric said and took your hand, 'don't you feel it too? The connection we have?'

'Sure,' you chuckled, 'but previous lives? I'm not sure how I feel about that. What did we do in those previous lives then?'

'Well… in one life we met and fell in love, but I was a- a vampire,' he mumbled, realising how stupid he just sounded.

'A… vampire? You believe in-'

'I know,' he said quickly, 'I know how that sounds. But just hear me out…'

You listened carefully when Sihtric told you about the "dreams" he had as of late. He told you how he had killed you as a vampire and how it had tormented him. How he had accepted his death and how he found you again in a next life, in which you were a maid and he was cast out from the village. You fell in love again, as you were supposed to, but he was cursed and one simple kiss would lead to your death. But you had loved him and so you decided to follow him into death, hoping to be together forever, but there was no such thing and Sihtric said he then found you again, in another life, where he was a musician and about to get married to you when he was shot right in front of you. And Sihtric told you how it all seemed connected. He pointed out how the chandelier that almost killed you, when you were a maid, resembled that time when Sihtric's chandelier fell down from his ceiling one morning in his home, after Skade had cursed you at the party. He explained how his blood kink is probably related to his previous life as the blood sucking vampire that killed you, or that maybe he was simply a descendant of the Vampire of Bebbanburg. He told you about his deal with the Devil and that maybe that also had something to do with your past lives and your connection. He wasn't sure about it all yet as he was still figuring it out himself, but none of that mattered to him.

'What matters,' Sihtric said as he lightly stroked your hand with his thumb, 'is that we're meant to be, little bat. We were always meant to be.'

You pulled your hand away from him and jumped up, almost knocking over your chair. You grabbed your bag and coat before you made haste out the door, leaving Sihtric behind, who was baffled, confused and most of all heartbroken that you had left without a word. What he had been afraid of had just happened, he figured he had truly scared you this time, maybe for good.

But he didn't know that the real reason you left like that was because you couldn't show him the tears in your eyes or let him hear the lump in your throat when you'd speak, because you were in love with him and it frightened you. Everything frightened you after the things he told you, because you believed him. You believed everything he said and you believed he wasn't insane. But you were scared. So you just left him that morning and didn't see him again until several days later.

Sihtric looked absolutely stunning when you found him sitting on his bed, leaning back on his elbows, his hair freshly shaved again on one side while his curls still graced the other side. You thought he was always stunning and he always took your breath away, which is exactly what made him so dangerous. He was always sweet and charming, and he was different from everyone else you ever met before, in every possible way. But you weren't blind to the horrors that were part of him and you had grown very concerned lately.

Sihtric jumped up from the bed when he saw you, and he immediately wrapped his arms around you.

'Little bat,' he breathed as he held you, relief washing over him, 'I've missed you so much. I was afraid you wouldn't come back.'

'Sihtric,' you chuckled and took a step back, 'we went over this already, we have to keep our distance.'

You smiled kindly at him and he cupped your cheeks, ignoring what you just said, and he pulled your face to his and locked his lips with yours. Your eyes were wide open and you gave him a light shove, pushing him away from you.

'Sihtric!' you gasped and quickly looked back over your shoulder, making sure you were truly alone, 'stop… stop doing that.'

Sihtric stared at you, confused, and he scoffed. 'What are you talking about? Since when can't I kiss you anymore?'

'You just can't do that!' you hissed and quickly closed the door to his room.

'My love,' he laughed softly and took your face in his hands again, 'you're not making any sense right now,' he whispered and kissed you once more.

You desperately wanted to fight it, but your need and lust for him was too strong and you allowed yourself to kiss him back. Finally. Sihtric couldn't remember the last time you had kissed each other like that, as you had barely seen each other lately and he didn't know what had changed between the two of you. You just seemed to disappear sometimes and he knew you were busy with work, so he didn't make a point out of it, but his heart ached when you weren't with him and he had longed for you gravely.

'My queen,' Sihtric breathed in between kisses and he picked you up in his arms, 'to be without you is a punishment,' he whispered and seated you upon the table, positioning himself between your thighs, 'and not the kind of punishment I enjoy,' he sighed and moved his hands up in your hair, kissing you eagerly and deeply.

'Sihtric,' you murmured against his lips, but he silenced you with a passionate kiss before you could say another word.

The kiss became more heated, his fingers squeezing your thighs while your hands were on his neck, getting lost in his touch, his taste and his scent. You both ran out of breath and he shoved your skirt up while you pulled his white shirt to keep him close.

'I want you,' he almost growled, 'I need to feel you so bad, my angel,' he peppered your neck with soft and wet kisses, 'I've missed you so, it's been unbearable. I need you-'

'Sihtric,' you choked on his name as he left a love bite just below your ear, 's-stop,' you mumbled, 'you… you have to stop.'

'Why?' he chuckled, 'you're mine, aren't you?' he hummed and captured you in another kiss, until you pushed him away again and jumped off the table.

You adjusted your skirt and quickly hid the mark he had left with your hair, then cleared your throat and tried to compose yourself again. But your flushed cheeks betrayed your desire for him.

'I… I don't understand,' Sihtric said, confused, 'why… why can't I-'

'Sihtric,' you said quietly, 'who do you think I am?'

'What?' he scoffed, 'you're mine… you're… you're my love,' he said, but then uncertainty began to sound in his voice, 'my… my little bat. You're mine. Honey, I don't understand what is going on-'

'Where do you think you are?'

'What?' he gazed at you, confused, 'we're home… right? We're home, baby. Why are you-'

'Who do you think you are?'

Sihtric scoffed again and tears began to well up in his eyes as a feeling of panic crept into his body.

'I… I don't understand,' he said softly, 'you're scaring me, love, why are you asking all these questions?'

'Tell me who you are,' you whispered, fighting your own emotions as you watched Sihtric slowly spiral in front of you.

'I'm… I'm Sihtric,' he shrugged, not understanding what was going on with you, 'it's me, darling.'

'How did we meet?'

'What?'

'How did we meet, Sihtric?'

'We… we met almost half a year ago,' he said, doubt painting his face, 'at the… at the Halloween fair.'

'At the fair,' you repeated, 'and then what happened?'

'Uhtred and Gisela set us up. We connected right away and it felt like we've known each other forever,' he smiled and lightly touched your cheek, 'which we have, my darkness, I'm sure of it.'

You swallowed hard and took a step back, colliding into the table behind you and you had to compose yourself again. Sihtric looked at you with pain and confusion in his eyes after you backed away from him, his wild eyes darting all over you while tears blurred his sight.

'Go on,' you said.

'I… I took you on a date,' his voice trembled, 'we went on a date, sweet thing, don't you remember? I took you… I took you ghost hunting, out in the woods, at the old Willow house.'

'The Willow house?' you asked bewildered, 'Sihtric-'

'We were attacked, which turned out to be another trick from Skade,' he talked over you, 'I told you I had been there before and made recordings and that nothing ever attacked me before.'

'Recordings?'

'Yes, I told you I'd show you the ghost recordings I made.'

'And did you show me?'

'What? Don't be so silly, my love,' Sihtric said, 'you know we never got to it because of everything else that happened. But I have them… I… I have them in my library. But after that attack we went to your home,' he took your hands and sniffled, 'and… and we kissed and we made love.'

'Made love?'

'Yes,' he whispered and cupped your cheeks, then leaned his forehead against yours, 'we made so much love, my angel. Whenever we could, because we were so in love. And aren't we still?' he murmured against your lips, 'aren't we?'

You opened your mouth to speak but Sihtric kissed you again while tears prickled in your eyes, and it took all your strength to push him away once again.

'Stop this. You have to stop this. You know we can't… you can't kiss me like that,' you whispered, 'you'll end up restrained again.'

'But I like it when you restrain me, sweet thing,' he smiled slyly, 'you know I like it.'

He leaned in to kiss you again, but you stopped him.

'Don't,' you said, 'why do you always get like this when the Moon is full.'

'Like what?' he wondered.

'Sihtric…'

'What, my love? Like what?'

'So caught up in your head.'

'What?' Sihtric looked at you, his eyes desperate for an answer that would make him understand why you were being so cold and distant.

'Sweetheart,' you whispered, 'tell me again, where do you think you are?'

'Home,' he said, clearly becoming agitated with your endless confusing questions.

'Sihtric, look around,' you said calmly, 'is this your home?'

You watched him look away from you and around the room you were in. His eyes grew bigger with each passing second and you heard his breathing become unsteady. Sihtric took in the bright white walls he was in between, which were so bright in the hard led lights that it hurt his mismatched eyes. He noticed how the white walls were completely empty, apart from one mirror which was completely painted black, and the room was just as empty as the walls. He only had a single person bed, one cabinet and a table with two chairs. The windows were closed and barred with iron on the outside, and his bed had wrist and ankle restraints attached to them, but those clearly weren't for pleasure. And he began to panic.

'W-where are we?'

'I'm sorry,' you said, 'but this is not your home, Sihtric. Not your real home at least.'

Sihtric stared at you in silence, then at his clothes, white jeans and a white shirt, and then he finally snapped as he suddenly recognised his attire.

'What do you mean!?' he shouted.

'Don't raise your voice!' you hissed and stepped towards him, 'don't shout, please, they will hear you.'

'Who!?' he shouted, 'who will hear me?!'

'The other patients,' you said as quietly as possible, 'and when the patients can hear you, the guards can hear you too-'

'Guards? What g-'

'Shh!' you took his wrists carefully, 'be quiet, or they will restrain you again.'

'What? No! No, you restrained me last night. You did!'

'Be quiet!' you urged him, 'I did not restrain you, the guards did after you freaked out in the shared living room. You were shouting in Latin towards the old fire place, at nothing. Sihtric,' you shook him, 'you are not home. Don't you get it?'

'Get what?'

'You're at the Willow house.'

'What? No, no that's impossible,' Sihtric scoffed, 'that place is haunted. We've… we've been there, we walked the hallways together, don't you remember?' he broke and began to cry, 'why don't you remember us?'

'Listen to me,' you said and took his face, 'you are at the Willow house. Yes, we walked through these hallways together. We really did. But, Sihtric,' you held back a sob, 'we never went ghost hunting. The Willow house is a psychiatric hospital, and you are a patient. You've been committed here years ago by your ex-wife. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,' you said as you could tell he was falling apart on the inside now that it began to dawn on him, 'I've been your doctor since October.'

'No… no,' Sihtric cried, 'but we… we kissed… we...'

'We did. You kissed me when we met and claimed you've been looking for me everywhere your whole life. You're not supposed to touch me, and that first kiss led you to be locked in the basement, chained to the wall. That is not allowed, and I'm sorry it happened but I can't stop the shady shit that goes on in this place.'

'Stop it,' he said and raked his hand through his hair, pulling his curls as he felt his sanity leave his body, 'stop it, stop it! You lie! This isn't funny-'

'I'm not lying.'

'I'm not crazy,' Sihtric hissed through his teeth.

'I never said you were,' you said calmly.

'I'm not fucking crazy! Don't lie to me!' he shouted.

'Please, please stay calm,' you urged him again, 'I don't want them to drag you down to the basement again, please, you already have been bruised there last night.'

'We're supposed to be together!' his voice started to sound hoarse while you desperately tried to keep him quiet.

'Don't do this to yourself, please,' you looked back over your shoulder, hearing the heavy boots of the guards stomping down the hall, 'Sihtric,' you said and took his face, then planted your lips on his as you had no idea when you would see him again. 'I always believed you,' you whispered, lips still touching as you both cried, 'you are not crazy. I know you're not, but the medication you've been forced to take is messing you up. I am trying everything I can to get you off them, I know you don't belong here. And yes, I do love you and I am in love with you. I fell in love with you from the second I saw you. But you're scaring me, because I never know when you are really here or when you're living in your fantasy life. I love you, Sihtric, I love you and you are not crazy, I promise.'

He kissed you again, hard, and then stared at you with piercing eyes.

'Then get me the fuck out of here!' Sihtric snarled, and then pretended to trip backwards over his own feet, falling on the floor while you stepped back as the guards stormed in the room.

You cried as you watched the guards punch Sihtric in the face, assuming he had attacked you and scared you. They pinned him harshly down onto the white floor, only to pick him up and drag him out of the room, down to the basement where they'd use medieval restraining tactics that were not allowed anymore.

But who was going to believe a guy who claimed he was the descendant of a vampire over a bunch of guards in a mental hospital?

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#i'm so sorry about this #sihtric x reader #sihtric x you #sihtric kjartansson #the last kingdom #sihtric #tlk #the last kingdom fic #sihtric fic #sihtric au #modern!sihtric

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catt-leya · 1 year

Note

Hi uh can I get number 11 “How the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickies?!” from the smut prompt? 👀

Perhaps Rick and his girl are having a lot of fun and she's super soft with him and in a praise mood and wants to praise the life out of Rick and he's been so stressed and just wants to relax for a while. She gives him a blowjob he won't forget so soon and she kisses him all over his body and the next morning after she rode the life out of him he just wakes up and sees all the hickies on his body. Perhaps for season 9 Rick? I have a soft spot for the old man lol

Snow Kiss (18+) || Rick Grimes

I'm sorry it took me so long to post it but when I saw your request I knew I had to do a winter themed fic about it....so it had to be that late this year 🤭👉🏼👈🏼💗

And I'm sorry it isn't a gif with him and his short hair but I couldn't resist (it's perfect for the story)...😍

Trigger: dirty talk, breeding (?), praise kink

Puffing, I stomp through the high snow and try to keep up with my boyfriend, who has much longer legs and therefore makes much better progress than I do.

With each of my steps I exhale heavily and traipse through my own breath cloud, which is snow-white due to the cold.

Although it's cold as hell and the snow reaches my knees, I'm sweating all over my body and have the feeling that tears are about to come from desperation.

So I stop, panting, and mutter, "Short break."

Surprised that I would ask for such a thing, Rick turns to me, "A break?"

I'm not usually one to give up or ask for a time out, but even I have my limits and I prop myself up on my thighs, which are burning like I've been in a hurdle race, "Yes, please."

I try to fill my lungs with deep breaths, ignoring the biting cold, as Rick mutters, "Are you weakening?"

Grumbling, I bend over a little further and reach for a handful of snow. Before he can react, I'm already throwing the small ball in his direction, hitting him square in the face.

I can't hide a big grin as the little snow clumps slide off his face and he stares at me in disbelief, "You didn't do that."

I grin proudly from ear to ear, "Oh yes I did, you old sadist."

I realize I'm in serious trouble when Rick lets the backpack he took from me earlier so I wouldn't have to carry it so heavily slide off his shoulders and drop carelessly into the snow.

Panicked, I try to get away from him as fast as I can, but before I can take a single step, Rick is already on me, throwing me to the ground with him.

He doesn't worry about crushing me or me hitting my head because the tons of soft white snow are under me and I claw at his winter jacket as I stomp and try to turn us so he's in the snow and I'm on top of him, but laughing I barely have the strength to move him an inch and he himself looks at me out of eyes shining with joy.

I used to think blue eyes looked cold and aloof, but since I've known Rick, I've completely discarded that theory. Especially here and now, when his eyes have taken on an even more intense shade of blue due to the white snow, I can't get enough of being looked at like that by him.

I don't even notice how wet my clothes are getting and when Rick's gaze briefly slips to my lips, I take the opportunity to push him up with all my power and roll on top of him, giggling, eliciting a soft '"Ufff" from him and I grin broadly at him, "Well, how does that feel."

Through my jacket, I feel him put his hands on my hips and wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, "To be honest, pretty good, actually."

Snorting, I shovel another helping of snow into his face and snort softly as he shakes his head to get rid of the snow, "You can really be a bad girl. Just bury your dear boyfriend in the snow, tz tz tz."

He raises his gloved hands to my cheeks and I lean down smiling and kissing them on the icy cold lips.

Actually, snow is not a good thing for our family and friends, but right now I can't think of anything better than lying in the freshly fallen snow with Rick and kissing him like it's the last time.

I elicit a soft sigh from Rick and his grip on my cheeks tightens as I mumble against his lips, "We're going to get sick. Especially you, if you keep lying in the snow, Rick."

But instead of letting go of me, he tries to get his tongue between my lips and I press them together tightly, making him moan almost tearfully, "Oh come on."

Grinning, I move away from him and slide off his hip to awkwardly stand up and offer him my hand, "Later. I promise."

For a brief moment, he just looks up at me before reluctantly grabbing my hand and letting me pull him up.

When he's back on his own two feet, he shakes his head to shake the snowflakes out of his dark hair, and I squeeze his hand, "Oh, don't pout."

I have to bite my lower lip to keep from laughing out loud when I see the snort he pulls, and when he mumbles, "I'm not at all," I can't help myself. He just stares at me as I can't stop laughing until he then can't hold back himself and laughs with me.

I squeeze his hand and rejoice as I see the wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and he pulls me closer, "I'll carry you home."

I roll my eyes, "Yeah right."

"I mean it," his voice is rough and I frown as he looks at me softly and says, "I can see how hard it is for you in the snow. I'll give you a piggyback ride and carry you at least until the trees get thicker and the snow isn't so high."

When I don't respond he pushes me toward the backpack, "Come on. You take the backpack."

I blink in perplexity, "You're serious."

Smiling, he rolls his eyes and gets down on one knee in front of me.

So I take the backpack and strap it to my back before standing behind Rick and hesitantly climbing onto his back.

Briefly I think I'm pushing him face first into the snow, but he slowly straightens up and I clamp my arms around his neck and rest my chin on his shoulder, "I can really do this on my own too-" he chokes me out, "Sh, now just let me do this for you."

Concentrating, he bites his lower lip to keep from falling over with me on his back, and I keep breathing short kisses on his cold cheek and neck, between which I keep whispering "Thank you" in his ear.

Rick has always been a kind-hearted person, so it shouldn't surprise me that he offered to carry me, but with every step he takes through the high snow, I fall for him even more than I already do.

I realize how hard it must be for him to carry me and the backpack on his back, but he doesn't stop until we reach a spot where the snow is already packed down and we don't have to walk very far from here to see the gates of Alexandria.

Our home.

I press one last kiss on his cheek and then he lets me slide off his back. Without hesitation he turns and reaches for the backpack on my back, "Come on."

He pulls it off my back and I brace my hands on my hips before fixing him, "I don't want to sound ungrateful for you carrying me, but what am I even here for if you won't let me do anything."

Smiling, he taps my nose with his finger, "You're here because I love you and like having you around."

He pushes a strand of hair out of my face, "And I trust no one more than you to watch my pretty ass. Because I'm sure we both love that one."

Rick isn't wrong but still I childishly show him my tongue and march past him, "Well, let's get your pretty ass to the warmth."

It takes us considerably longer to get home than it would if we had normal circumstances without a pile of snow, and Rick spends at least as long in the shower.

But even I'm not necessarily shorter under the hot water stream and when I get out of the shower I can't even see myself in the mirror because it's fogged up from the water vapor.

Without seeing how my hair is lying, I try to fix it a bit and then pull a hoodie I took from Rick over my head.

It's too big for me, but the comfy size is just what I need right now and the fact that the hoodie also smells like Rick only makes it better.

I put my panties on and then pull open the door to our bedroom.

Rick is already in bed in gray sweatpants and a loose white shirt, and when he hears me pull open the bathroom door, he lazily opens his eyes.

I pull my wet hair out from under my hoodie and smile softly at him, "Is someone tired?"

Leaning my hip against the door frame, I have to smile even wider as he sighs and closes his eyes, only bringing a "Hmmm" to his lips.

I love watching him sleep and can barely restrain myself from staring at him.

Especially because it makes him look so incredibly vulnerable and the hard features disappear from his face.

It's rare that he can really relax and when I think he's not going to open his beautiful eyes again, I tiptoe over to my side of the bed and just as I'm about to settle down on the bed quietly Rick hums, "I can't sleep."

I wince briefly, not expecting to hear his voice again today, and then turn to face him.

He still has his eyes closed, but he says softly, "I can't stop thinking about how we might not all make it through the winter."

For a brief moment, I just look at him and can only admire him.

He is trying everything he can to help us all live in safety in security and expects nothing in return. He would give anything for us.

For his family.

I take a deep breath, "We're going to make it, Rick."

Only now does he look at me again and I can see the fear in his eyes. Fear that he only shows to me.

"You don't know that," at the words his voice is rough and soaked with uncertainty.

I meet his gaze while sliding onto the bed and sliding myself over his legs so I'm sitting astride his thighs, "Maybe not, but I know you'll do your best and you can trust us to do our best too."

I place my hands flat on his chest and he places his large hands on top of mine, "It's good to hear you say that, you know."

To lighten the mood a bit, I wink at him and lean in, "Maybe I should praise you more. Adore you."

It was obvious he was going to roll his eyes, muttering, "Don't exaggerate."

But the way his eyes lit up when I said that gives me a great idea and I pull my hands out from under his, "No, no. I'm serious, I should praise you more."

He frowns and I reach for his shirt, "Take it off and I'll show you how good you are to me. I want to reward you for all your hard work."

Rick exhales heavily and the candlelight starts to flicker in response, making shadows dance across his body.

I can see in his eyes how much he wants me and how much he wants to be rewarded by me.

Slowly he straightens up a bit and he reaches for the hem of his shirt.

Even after all the time I've been with him and the countless times I've seen him naked, it never prepares me to see his bare skin.

As soon as he settles back into the pillows, I grab the hem of his pants and pull them down over his hips and legs.

Already I can see that my words have actually turned him on and as I look him in the eye again, I reach for the hem of my hoodie, but he quickly shakes his head, "Leave it on...I like it when you wear my clothes."

Smiling, I shrug, "If you don't want to see my tits..."

"You're no less hot when you're dressed, sweetheart," at that he licks his lips and I whimper softly.

I know exactly what he can do with his tongue and I actually briefly think about sitting on his face, but I want today to be about him, so I push the thought away and instead lean forward and kiss his leg just above his right knee.

He immediately knows what I'm up to and sits up enough to lean on his elbows and watch me stroke his thigh with the flat of my hand, kissing my way closer and closer to his hardening cock.

Softly I hear him murmur, "You are so incredibly beautiful."

Then I look up at him and kiss the tip of his cock as light as a feather.

He draws in a loud breath and I lick once over his shaft, making him wince and I breathe harshly, "That's it."

He raises his hands and I know he wants to put them on the back of my head to guide me, but I shake my head and he drops his hands, "Sweetheart?"

I kiss his hip bone and when I start sucking he moans softly.

My mouth is so close to his cock and yet I don't take it in my mouth and that must drive him crazy.

That's why I mumble softly, "Just let me do it" and turn to his other hip bone.

I feel his cock against my neck and when I can't take it anymore myself, I slide down and let it slide between my lips.

The deep moan coming from deep in his throat forces me to squeeze my own legs together to keep from shoving a hand between my legs and I moan softly with my mouth full, "God, I love your cock."

I always take Rick's cock deep into my mouth, but today I want to reward him and make him happy, so I try to relax and take more of him into my mouth bit by bit, all the way down my throat.

Tears start to come and when I have him almost completely in my mouth, I look up at him to see straight into his eyes.

With huge eyes he stares at me and his hands are buried in the sheets under him to keep from grabbing my head "Holy" he takes a deep breath "Shit".

I can feel him twitching in my throat and I can't suppress a gag reflex, which seems to please him because he squeezes his eyes shut tight and moans softly, "Good girl."

I love it when his voice gets so rough and deep when he's aroused and even now my heart does a leap at his pitch.

Spurred on by the way his chest rises and falls so quickly, I let him slide out of my mouth a bit and take him into my mouth again as deep as I can.

As I do so, I slide one hand over his hips to his flat stomach, squeezing lightly so he doesn't meet me halfway with his hips each time to be back in my warm mouth.

I want to reward him and not be taken by him like I normally am.

Without taking my eyes off him I give him the blow job of his life and when he groans loudly and tugs my hand off his body to thrust into me, I know he's close to cumming in my mouth and although I don't want to stop, I let his cock slide out of my mouth one last time with a smacking sound and when the cool air in the room hits his wet cock he tears open his eyes and growls, "Oh shit, don't you quit. You better take me between your..."

Giggling, I put a finger on his mouth and run my other hand feather lightly over his cock, the tip of which is already showing precum, "Shhh, wait and see. As promised, you'll get the reward you've earned."

Skeptically he looks at me with dark eyes as I bend over him again and kiss his lower belly, "You" I kiss the spot next to his belly button "Are" His left rib "The" the right "Best" a nipple "What" the second one "Ever" collarbone "Happened" Adam's apple "To me".

His hands grip my hips tightly and I put my lips to the side of his neck "You're always so good to me and shit, can you fuck me so good."

A harsh laugh slips from his lips, catching in his throat as I reach between us again and slowly jerk him off, "Do you want to cum inside me Rick? Do you want your reward?"

A jolt goes through his whole body and he moans softly, "Yes."

Slowly I disengage from him and kneel down so I can pull my panties over my butt and toss them carelessly onto our bedroom floor.

Because the hoodie is quite long, I grab the hem and pull it up enough so that Rick can see my naked lower half as I spread my legs and position myself over him so that I would only have to lower myself to take him inside me.

His eyes are fixed firmly on my naked pussy and as I see his eyes light up at that, I say softly, "I can't keep the hoodie up and ride you, Rick. Will you please help me with this?"

Lost in thought, he mumbles a hoarse, "Hmmmm?" and I reach for his hand and place it on my hip so he's holding the hoodie up, "Can you hold the fabric up? I want you to see how well you fit inside me and how far you can stretch me. Would you do that for me?"

Seeming to be completely out of it with excitement, he asks obtusely and somewhat delayed, "What would you want me to do?"

I stifle a laugh and lean down to kiss him lightly on the lips, blocking his view so he can at least focus a bit on what I'm saying, "Would you hold my sweater up, Rick?"

His cheeks are flushed and I'm sure he's a little embarrassed that he's been so distracted that he didn't even catch my request and probably only caught the words "stretch" and "fit inside me."

Immediately, he rests his second hand on my hip as well and says softly, "Of course. Sorry."

It's like a rush to have such power over a man like Rick.

To know that I can drive him out of his mind like this and that he'll do practically anything for me.

It's addictive.

Lips inches from his, I reach between and place his tip against my wet pussy.

At the feeling of having him almost inside me, I can't suppress a pitiful moan and with a low growl Rick just pushes me down on top of him, making me wince violently and he presses his lips firmly on mine.

With my mission in mind I whimper softly, "You're so big."

"Oh shit" his cock twitches inside me and I try to straighten up on him as best I can, looking back to where he is inside me.

As I slowly move on top of him he can't take his eyes off me and his fingers dig firmly into my hips as he follows me with his eyes as his cock slides into me again and again, leaving a wet trail of my pussy on him, causing a soft smacking sound that I was ashamed of before, but now it only makes me hornier.

To support myself I put my hands flat on his chest and moan softly how good he feels inside me and how much I love him.

For a brief moment he tries to push me off of him to roll over me, but I push him so hard I can back onto his back and let my hips gyrate slowly, "Let. Me. Do. it."

Whipped, he drops his head back into the pillows and looks down at me as if I fell out of the sky for him and landed straight on his cock.

Again and again I lower myself onto him and each time I tighten around him.

The first few times I do it consciously because I know he likes it, but after a certain point it just happens, but still it's not enough for me, so I look helpfully into Rick's eyes and he tilts his head, "Do you need my help to cum?"

The way his accent is thicker as soon as he's turned on always makes me weak and even now I tremble above him and moan pleadingly, "Yes, Rick. Please let me come around you."

Without taking his eyes off me, he slides a hand from my hip between my legs and at the first contact of his fingers on my clit, I cry softly.

A knot forms in my abdomen and I ride him faster, "Oh God, you are the best man I know and I want you to cum inside me, please oh please...oh Rick I...please..."

I'm getting more and more whiny on him and he himself is always the more controlled one when it comes to sex, that's why he helps me maintain my movements and keeps coming with his hips towards me, "Of course...shhhh...relax...I...shit of course I'll cum inside you if that's what you want..."

Hectically I nod and squint my eyes as I realize I can barely hold myself back and gasp, "Now Rick...please now..."

I'm barely able to fight him off in any way as he pulls me to him and presses his lips hard to mine, moaning into my mouth, "Let go..."

I wince and press tightly against him as the knot inside me loosens and I tighten around him so tightly that I feel like my pussy wants to cling to him to pull him deeper inside me.

As I begin to pulse around him, he also begins to twitch inside me, saying my name, like a prayer.

Hoarsely I gasp again and again, "I love you. Fuck I love you so much." And his fingers on my hip squeeze so hard that I'm sure I won't get away without marks.

For a brief moment my eyes go black and I don't open them until I blink as Rick asks softly, "Are you okay?"

Still his softening cock is inside me and I know my cheeks must be red as I ask softly, "Did you like it?"

He licks his swollen lips and raises his hand to run his thumb over my lower lip, "Yes sweetheart. Thank you."

He spins us around so I'm on my back and he rolls off me to crawl out of bed.

Almost always Rick is on top of me, or at least does most of the work, and now I remember why that is.

It's exhausting as shit.

Breathing heavily, I lie on my back and follow Rick with my eyes as he disappears into the bathroom and then comes back to me with a damp towel in his hand.

I don't resist as he pushes my legs apart and gently cleans me up.

Weakly, I mumble, "How bad does it look?" Because I actually don't like it when he cleans me up after sex, even though it's incredibly sweet of him and nothing to be ashamed of, especially since he's no less to blame for how I look between my legs every time.

That's why he raises his eyebrows skeptically and says dangerously quietly, "Now cut the crap and just so you finally get it, you have no idea how much it turns me on when you make me come inside you and how hot it is to see my cum run out of you."

He's never said it so straight before and my heart stops for a brief moment.

We just look at each other and very briefly the thought comes to me, how it would be if I would always let him come inside me.

Until now, I've always tried to work out when it would be reasonably safe, although of course we've never had a guarantee of that either.

But now I'm thinking about what it would be like if I stopped calculating and we called his bluff.

What it would be like if Rick got me pregnant and I carried his child under my heart.

It's a brief thought and before I can stop myself, I utter the words, "Do you want a child with me?"

He pauses in his movement and stares at me, "What?"

With a pounding heart, I say, "How about we just try it and expand our little family? I'm young, Rick. I can still get pregnant and I would like to have a child with you someday. So why not do it now? Don't you want it?"

I chew on the inside of my cheeks as he slides his gaze over my face and he carelessly drops the towel on the floor, "I love you and that's why I'm saying no. Please let's not try. If it's by chance we can't change it, but I don't want to try it on purpose."

I don't know exactly what answer I was expecting, but certainly not one that would bring tears to my eyes with shame.

He makes it sound like the very thought is sucking all the life out of him and I clench my teeth tightly to keep from starting to cry, which of course he sees immediately and says softly, "Not that I wouldn't love to have a child by you, but I love you too much to force the risk of pregnancy on you and maybe it's selfish, but I don't want to live with the thought that I might be to blame for you dying during childbirth. Fuck, I wouldn't survive losing you. So no. I'm not going to consciously try to get you pregnant."

He slides down on the bed next to me, "Please understand. It's incredibly hard for me to deny you your wish, but I just can't."

Silently, I look at him and then nod.

I actually understand what he means, but I look him firmly in the eye, "Okay. That's where we are today."

He frowns and I gently continue, "But it's not final."

I was expecting rebuttals, or a telling off about how he certainly wouldn't change his mind, but he too nods slowly, "Okay. Today's status."

With those words, he takes me in his arms and I fall asleep pressed against his chest and snow outside our window.

The next morning I am awakened by a deep laugh and I press my face into my pillow as I ask, muffled by the fabric, "What's wrong?"

I pull the blanket further over my body because it's so damn cold and Rick coughs laughing, "Oh my god...how the fuck did you manage to cover me in this many hickies?!"

Groaning, I roll onto my back and lazily open my eyes. Immediately my eyes fall on his torso, which is covered in hickies.

Rick looks like a 16 year old who made out with his first girlfriend and she desperately wanted to immortalize herself on him.

It looks so ridiculous and hot at the same time that I laugh out loud and wink at him, "Sorry, but I'd say you're mine."

He playfully rolls his eyes and I stare at the hickies on his neck before he pulls a sweater over his head and says good-humoredly, "I look like a teenager but I love you anyway," and I stick out my tongue.

Even though he's a little older, it doesn't mean he's boring and can't take a joke. He is perfect and I love him more than anything in this world.

After that night, a couple of weeks go by as the winter mellows and I'm in the kitchen making breakfast for Rick, who came home late last night, when I feel like throwing up across the kitchen counter.

Without thinking, I run to the patio door and yank it open just in time to throw up in the flower bed next to it.

Tears run down my cheeks as I retch and can't get anything up.

It feels like I'm going to die and that's when it hits me.

I prop myself up on the ground with my hands and whisper "shit" over and over.

@hail-yourselves @bean-is-reading @chanlvr2 @criminalwalkingsupernatural @sunshinevirus @toxic-ink @kingtwhiddleston @bloodycherry22 @vane28282 @bamslover @revesephemeres @emo-potato-virgil @tropodyn @mrsashleybarnes18-blog @igotbasicdrag

(If anyone else would like to be tagged, just let me know 💗)

#rick grimes #rick grimes x reader #rick grimes smut #rick grimes imagine #twd #twd x reader #the walking dead #request #andrew lincoln

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thetravelingmaster · 1 month

Text

Understanding Different Dynamics

Female's Point of View - Hypnosis

model: Mercedes blanche

“What’s the matter Emma?” he asked. “You look perplexed by something.”

“It’s nothing really…” I answered. “I’m just having a little trouble with something is all…”

“Trouble huh?” he said. “What are you having trouble with?”

“Well huh…” I said, feeling my cheeks burn a little. “It’s a bit silly… But… I’m having trouble finding the right words… To huh… You know… Describe what you are to me…”

“Is that all?” he said, chuckling. “Why are you having so much trouble with that?”

“Ok… So… Huh… We’re friends… Right?” I said.

“Of course we are!” he said, smiling. “I’d even go so far as to say we are VERY good friends.”

“I totally agree with you there!” I said, smiling warmly. “But… That’s my point, you know? It feels like we are MORE than that…”

“Are we?” he asked, slightly perplexed.

“Come on…” I said, holding back a giggle. “With what we’ve been up to these last few weeks, can you really not see that our friendship has become a lot more than very good friends?”

For a moment, he didn’t seem to understand at all what I was referring to, but thankfully, I finally saw the lightbulb go off in his deep blue eyes.

“Oh you mean the hypnosis play we’ve been indulging in… Right?” he asked.

“What else could I possibly mean?” I countered, holding back a giggle.

“My bad…” he said, chuckling at himself. “I guess we have been exploring more and more lately… I mean… When we first started, I could barely make your body LOCK UP.”

As soon as I heard the trigger, I felt my whole body stiffen as a warm shiver of erotic delight washed over my skin. My hand froze in the process of moving up to brush away my free mane from my face, which found itself scrunched up and paralyzed in a thoughtful expression. He was right, when we first began to explore what hypnosis could do, I wasn’t that adept a subject and although I could feel the suggestions take hold, they weren’t very effective. To my delight however, we discovered that our repeated attempts helped me become a much better hypnotic subject.

The realization pushed us to try more and more until one day, we realized that almost all of his post hypnotic suggestions were 100% effective. Case in point, I couldn't move a muscle even if I tried my best to resist.

“Now it responds so eagerly…” he said after admiring my frozen state for a few moments. “If that is what you are referring to… Then I don’t see how that would make our friendship, quote unquote, more. Oh and… You can UNLOCK now…”

I felt my body relax, allowing me to shake off the sudden wave of arousal.

“No, that’s not what I’m referring to…” I said, gathering my thoughts. “Well… It’s technically not… But it’s certainly a part of it…”

“You lost me…” he said.

“Ok ok…” I said, taking a deep breath. “What I mean to say is that our hypnotic explorations now include things that make our friendship… Confusing…”

“Confusing? I don’t follow…” he said, clearly surprised. “What things are you talking about?”

Why was it so hard to put into words? Not that I minded all that much… I kind of loved how hypnosis could simplify my mind and clean out all my worries and anxieties. But on occasion, it did make my thoughts hard to clarify. Especially between trances!

“I guess…” I said, trying to remember how he called it when we first started. “I’m referring to… Huh… You know… The kinky stuff… I… Forget what you called it…”

“OH!” he exclaimed. “You mean the erotic triggers we’ve been exploring… Like the SENSITIVE BUTTONS one?”

I almost moaned as I felt the trigger take hold, making my nipples pop out as I became vividly aware of how sensitive they felt against the fabric of my top.

“Yes…” I said, trying not to sound breathless. “That’s… That’s what I’m talking about…”

“It’s called erotic hypnosis…” he said.

“Yes… Exactly…” I said, trying not to move too much so my nipples wouldn’t rub. “Don’t you think… Hhmm… That our erotic explorations make us more than just friends?”

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#full body story #Understanding Different Dynamics

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teruthecreator · 1 year

Text

(tw for racism, pedophilia, transphobia, child impregnation mention)

yeah idk why y'all read this

i was originally going to just post this and have some tags with my reasonings, but i realized that opens me up to too much bullshit from people who may think i'm being unnecessarily mean or whatever. so i'm going to explain exactly why the screenshots above are something i hold issue with.

firstly, and i just want to get this out of the way, this post is not intended to be a hit piece against the creator. i've seen how she reacts to any mild-mannered or slightly joking criticism, so i know this post is probably going to not land well. but it isn't my intention to make her mad or anything--she's writing a piece of content for the internet, which means she is just as open to criticism as any other poster. and what i intend to go into in this post is criticism. i'm allowed to do this, as that is the nature of the internet. people are allowed to critique whatever they please, and if you don't want critique then you shouldn't post. simple as!

i am also making no attempts to posit myself as better than the creator. i'm not doing this for clout or moral superiority or any of that dumb shit. i simply want to discuss something that's been bothering me for a bit, while simultaneously warning people who haven't read this yet (who may be sensitive to the issues above) to steer clear. if things like casual racism or transphobia aren't properly tagged, then readers who are affected by such things run a risk reading this! same goes with people who are triggered by lewd content involving minors. i wanna make sure people are getting a more critical scope of this work than what has been hoisted up by others.

okay, now that i've gotten that out of the way, i'm going to get into my points.

firstly, the subtle and not-so-subtle racism throughout this fic, especially in relation to serizawa. i'm white, so there is only so much i can speak on without trampling over the words of other fans of color, but some of this feels so blatant it's odd it hasn't been noted earlier. it's important to note before i go into it that serizawa is specifically written as half-black half-japanese for this fic, in case the screenshots don't make it abundantly clear. but there are just too many moments of casual racism in this fic. i'm not talking about the plot point of serizawa being bullied as a kid for being mixed; i'm not mixed, so i can't speak on the accuracy there but it is well-known that black people face a lot of racism in japan. i'm talking about how it seems everyone else has these racist moments that aren't acknowledged by serizawa or the narration as being bad.

reigen hypothesizing over serizawa's exact ethnic background is just strange. yes he's a fairly observant guy (he has to be, with his job), but there is no canonical evidence to suggest he would immediately jump to theorizing whether serizawa is american or not. and the way it's posed in that first quote--"he has darker skin and the kind of hair texture that would likely indicate African ancestry"--is not great. that's an extremely inappropriate way to bring up someone's race. i don't think most people would stare at someone and be like "hmmm well your nose shape and hair texture would suggest you're of this race". it's racial essentialization that is only slightly covered up by the excuse of "oh he tweets in english". there are some other smaller moments of questionable wording, like calling serizawa's afro "sloppy" when it isnt (which btw there's another issue with the creator only referring to an afro as a "fro". it's a hairstyle; you're allowed to use the actual name of it). even if reigen cuts his hair in canon, he never states it's because serizawa's afro looks sloppy. (also there's something to be said about the casual racism baked into making your employee cut his natural hairstyle for a job, as that is a very real issue many black people face when wearing their natural hair or even protective styles in the workplace.)

i'm especially bothered by toichiro's very casual racist remarks. toichiro in this fic is a general bother of mine (most of which can be boiled down to "he would not fucking say that"), but the way she chooses to characterize him in relation to serizawa feels gross. calling a black man a slave should be a very obvious red flag, but also saying serizawa (again, as a black man) has a "brutal masculine appeal" is also extremely stereotypical and racist. and really there is just no need for it; toichiro's actions in canon prove how shitty of a guy he is without the need for him to be racist (along with other things i'll get to in a bit). as my girlfriend put it: he doesn't need to be a member of the fucking kkk to show he's a bad guy.

there's also, again, the very casual racist remark of calling serizawa a "dog". i don't care if that isn't the intent; when you are writing a character of color you need to be aware of your wording, even in insults (unless she intended to make tsuchiya racist, which i don't think she did).

secondly, the eugenics/child pregnancy bit. it is surreal to even have to write this, but i seriously do not understand the purpose of either of these bits in the story. they are so minor yet so jarring you can't help but wonder why they're there. once again, i do not think you need to have toichiro doing esper eugenics just to prove he is an evil guy. he has nuance, and by making him casually reference child pregnancy (like that isn't an INSANE thing to say) reduces that nuance to nothing. that's the only reason i could see why that bit was included: to make toichiro look worse. but, even still, the author is running the risk of potentially triggering victims of csa or people who don't want to see that by not properly tagging the mention of it (or, at the very least, warning readers in the intro notes). the only other explanation for it would maybe be shock factor??? but that's a pretty shitty thing to use for shock factor, if i'm honest. also the fact that the esper eugenics was referenced again in a more recent chapter just has me very disturbed and confused. there isn't a canonical explanation for why we see less espers who are women than espers who are men, but that doesn't mean we need to jump to fucking Eugenics. it's weird!

thirdly (and this is probably one of my biggest problems and the main reason i wanted to make this post), the weirdly lewd/sexual language shou uses constantly, along with referring to reigen as a pedo or a creep at several points. frankly, i think it's pretty fucking gross for someone in their near-40's to be writing a 12-year-old talking so casually about sex like that's normal. which, i'm sorry, but it's not. yes, teens know about sex and like to joke about lewd shit. but a 12-year-old is not about to make references to a grown man's virginity. 12-year-olds draw dicks on their desk bc they think it's funny. 12-year-olds say the word "buttfuck" because it has the words "butt" and "fuck" in it, and those are the two funniest words on earth to a kid that age. i literally do not understand the purpose of having shou be so lewd all the time. for one, it doesn't make sense for his character. shou is shown time and time again to be extremely mature for his age, but that maturity extends to shit like assembling a counter-terrorism unit and extending a hand to his father to allow him to try again. and even then he's still just as naive as any other kid his age! the omake where he's telling his guys to go to the "far right corner" based on ritsu’s advice proves that he still has plenty of blindspots that are indicative of his age. leaning into this raunchy, lewd version of shou is just weird. and, again, i think it is made a bit weirder given the author's age!!! not ageshaming or whatever--i'm 23 and i write fanfic, clearly i cannot judge there--but it is just extremely inappropriate in my opinion. also having shou be more versed in sextalk than serizawa is odd too and speaks to a larger issue of serizawa's infantilzation throughout this fic, but that's something i can get into in another post if people want an explanation.

also, the way she constantly calls reigen a creep and even has him being accused of being a pedophile during the twitter cancellation is extremely inappropriate when, again, there is NO CANONICAL BASIS FOR THIS! everyone just calls him a fraud and a scammer during separation arc; there is never a reference to reigen being seen as a pedophile in that arc. and, yes, while there are versions of mob psycho where reigen is very clearly written as a creep (looking very specifically at the netflix adaptation), that doesn't mean it's good. honestly, the creep mentions all just feel like really poor jokes that do not land in the slightest.

finally, the transphobia (aka WHY IS SHIMAZAKI A CHASER). i literally do not know what else to say other than: why? why is this a thing? why is he a chaser? what is the purpose of this? is it a joke? i feel like it's supposed to be, but seeing as the author is cis i don't think that's a joke she should really be making. it not only comes out of left field, but it's just kind of a weird thing to ascribe to a character for no reason. not to mention, it's uncomfortable! trans women deal with enough creepy antics from cis men in real life--why must they be accosted by this guy too? it's just weird and uncomfortable.

i wanna round out this post by saying, once again, that i'm not trying to attack anyone with this post. but i do hope people come away from this with a new perspective on this work, and maybe think twice before recommending it uncritically to someone. to the author specifically, i hope you can read my post without rage or indignance blinding you. i might be a little blunt or rude in parts, but it's only because i'm passionate and i don't mince my words when it comes to things i'm passionate about. to the readers, understand i am not judging you for reading this fic without noticing these things. your own life experiences will give you certain blindspots and there's nothing wrong with that. i have plenty of blindspots of my own! it's what makes us human.

there is more i could say, but this post is long enough. i ask that if you come to me in my inbox or in dms about this that you treat me with respect, as i will do that for you. writing something like this took a lot out of me, as i'm usually not so open about my opinion on shit like this.

have a good day :-)

#mp100 #side quest #yeah this is all from <- that fic btw #ive been sitting on this for about a week or so bc ive been nervous abt posting something like this #i dont want people to think im making a callout post just to call shit out #im doing this bc i dont want people to get triggered by this content and because i want fans to be more critical of the content they consum #media literacy is something A LOT of fandoms struggle with and it leads to things being praised uncritically #i simply want people to have perspective when going into a thing #anyways uh. goodbye <3 #edit: took the tw tags off bc tumblr was suppressing the post bc of it #so PLEASE heed the warning at the top if u have specific triggers and things

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purgemarchlockdown · 9 months

Text

I told myself not to interact too much with the voting discussion because of how much it bothers me, but due to how her votes are going I will talk about it. I know the idea is that to protect the other prisoners we need her to be voted guilty. That's the theory, I'd argue that not only would that not work out the way people expect it to and I'd also argue that voting innocent is the better option overall.

But let's talk a bit about a dichotomy first.

Something I've noticed in fandom when it comes to victims of abuse and trauma is that there's a want for easily digestible abuse victims. There's a want for victims of abuse that are easily infantilized and woobified. In other words, there's a want for a very sanitized depiction of abuse. One where the characters who are being abused did nothing wrong and are morally pure completely righteous characters.

On the flipside, once an abuse victim steps out of those bounds of sanitized digestibility the audience reactions shifts. You tend to find these characters demonized and portrayed in ways that showcase how horrible, toxic or...dangerous they are. If you are an abuse victim in fiction you have to be an incredibly idealized version of the perfect abuse victim who does nothing wrong because if you aren't people will find ways to demonize you and erase any sense of nuance from the story.

You can either be a good abuse victim, or a bad one.

Now of course not everyone voting Amane guilty is doing it because of this...like I've seen a lot of posts from people who just don't know what to do or people who just feel that the consequences of Guilty Vote Amane is worth it in the end or people who just vote her guilty cause they don't like her much. I'm biased in this regard because I love Amane Momose! I'm very much biased towards her.

However it is troubling to me that I see this sort of bias, a lot of people have talked about how this also happens with Mikoto and I'd argue there was a bit of this also involved in Haruka and his voting.

It's something In this fandom and it's something that troubles me personally because I care a lot about this stuff, stories like Amane's are important to me, and I don't like seeing people react like this to abuse victims in fiction just because they aren't palatable.

I doubt most people in real life would act the same way if Amane was real, but also I'm unfortunately very familiar with people ignore someone who is suffering just because they feel uncomfortable. So I do think it's important to mention.

And I think Amane doomed by Milgram! I think Milgram is exactly the kind of place that would trigger her trauma! But even so I don't think Amane is doomed completely. I think viewing her as someone who can never change, who's stuck forever as a devoted cult follower is frankly a disservice to her character.

The power of cults come a lot of factors, manipulation, isolation, perpetuation of abuse and abusive cycles and way more things that I can't even mention. It Does Not come from magic unbreakable brainwashing! We have accounts from former cult victims! They exist! You can google them! There are people with stories like this out there!

I'd argue that Milgram's guilty system emulates Amane's previous abusive situation. It emulates that system of rules and punishment and torture. I don't think voting guilty would help, because voting guilty means Amane has to deal with something that closely emulates her horrible abusive situation, it would drive her further into isolation and trauma. She'd be reliving the situation she just escaped.

"But the other prisoners are at risk-" They're still at risk even if Amane is voted guilty! I'd argue their more at risk because Amane would be driven further into her isolation! Cults tell people that the outside world is dangerous and out to get them! It's one of there methods of control!

If we prove that to Amane, if we prove that yes, the outside world is out to get her and there's no one out there that can actually help her, then we give her The most righteous reason to attack.

Amane from what I can tell usually attacks if she feels like she's justified, if she feels like she's in danger. It's a defense mechanism born out of the torture she experienced. It's not wild swinging at anyone and anything she hates as it seems like people think it is.

I think voting Amane Innocent actually has the better chance of really helping people out. I think Amane being innocent would help crack this image she has of the outside world which would be fantastic actually! Would she be fully deprogrammed? No, you can't deprogram someone with one choice, especially if you validated their beliefs beforehand but it certainly changes things.

I don't like the idea that Amane is completely hopeless, I Feel like it treats cults and the Real Harm they do to people as something that no one can come back from and makes it feel weirdly mystical. Like the cult gets their hands in ya and now their brainwashing is just unbreakable. There's Real Ex-Cult Survivors in the world! They Exist! They aren't an impossibility and I don't think we should treat Amane's growth as a person as an impossibility!

#milgram #amane momose #008 #milgram amane #milgram meta #milgram analysis #cw torture #cw child abuse #cw cults

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shiftingconfessions · 10 days

Note

TW: Beginner venting!

(Would appreciate advice)

I've first heard about shifting in 2021, but only believed in it in 2022.

My heart was so broken from trauma, depression and Social Anxiety Disorder (SAD) that certain night I was just crying and didn't know what to do — then I just remembered about shifting. Belief and hope born from the pain.

Now I'm going to be honest, I'm not the type that can claim they've tried everything for years. I didn't; and what I did, I didn't do it consistently. The thing is: I'm a highly sensitive person. And I sure don't handle failure well. I feel heartbroken and afraid it's going to take more years for me to succeed, every single time I perceive I'm in my CR after a shifting attempt. I know we're always shifting, and a part of us always shifts in the attempts — but honestly? That means to me as much as knowing that technically polar bears aren't white. It can get to the point I feel physical pain in my chest, and sometimes it triggers full blown gastritis crisis. So I tend to give up again and again.

I know I should be patient, stick with a shifting routine, build and fellow a plan assuming that I will shift. I feel like I really believe in shifting and that I'm going to shift — the question is "when". That's what haunts me. It hurts just to think that this will take longer. My CR situation isn't great. SAD engulfed my whole life. I'm 20 and I can't study, work, nor date, and I almost don't get out of my house. My family have bad monetary conditions and I know I'm being a burden. I feel like a failure and the despair grows as time goes by. I'm in therapy and I'm trying to get better, but I still am not. And towards my SAD, yes, I can say I've tried everything, for more than a decade. So just "resolve your CR problems and then come back" isn't quite an option.

I feel so confused. People say shifting is so easy, so why so many people have difficulty with it? This makes me feel guilty for still not being able to. And also makes me so jealous. Guess this is kinda common for baby shifters, the jealousy. I'm jealous of the success and jealous of their skillsets/gifts. Which again makes me feel guilty, because it's pretty icky to desire their outcomes and don't pay the price they did. Well, that doesn't apply to cases where people shoft after little to no effort and time; then I just feel unlucky. When I see posts like "I've taught my friend/sister/brother/etc how to shift and they did!", oh, it's the worse. I get so jealous of these ones, because it really seems so good to be "adopted" by an experienced shifter. I honestly feel like I'm walking without sight; I just know where I want to end at, but the path is a messy mystery.

Don't get me wrong, I'm not lazy. It's not like I'm not willing to pay the price of magic — like, common. It's just a little learning and then I'll have the whole multiverse. And although I really am hardworking, I don't say this just about me. I feel like most of us aren't lazy at all; to work is human. The problem is the emotional and psychological part of the journey. The problem is the time. The problem is how long is this process going to take.

"Just be patient and do the right things consistently" I tell myself, but I don't really know how to do that. Not when my heart aches and my CR devour my remaining sanity. And It's such a hard thought knowing heaven is just behind a door I can see but fail to open.

I can understand why people that already shifted see our pre-shift reactions as drama (I mean, is just a tiny bit of stress time in comparison with a life full of shifts). But right now, it really hurts. It really is intense for me. I don't know how to care less, how to feel less.

I don't have any friends into shifting, and I would love to just have someone I trust to talk about it. Sometimes I think I could tell my besties about it; but I know that they'll think I'm just being delusional, escapist and that believing in this is self-destructive. Or worse, they can believe in it and end in a place similar to mine. I plan on telling them when I already shifted, though.

I want to make online friends into shifting, but I'm so afraid people will hate me because I'm currently not the most pleasant company.

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting realities #desired reality #shifting community #shifting

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