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#i can't properly judge if the second answer makes sense so i'm just going to Hope it does
probablyhuntersmom · 11 months
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Thinking out loud...I'm both relieved that Hunter wasn't singled out by The Collector to go through these horrors...yet ofc curious what it may've looked like.
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Nonetheless, his mind would be unleashing nightmares upon him even after Belos's death.
C-PTSD nightmares seem to have three flavours (going off my own experience..this isn't textbook or researched, as a disclaimer).
There are two kinds that have the theme of immediate danger.
First is the type where you yourself are being physically threatened. I don't want to choose the more graphic violent ones for this post but an example I can cite is being arrested and thrown into prison. Those got me on pretty high alert and idk, it was like this I guess:
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Second would be the ones where you can't save someone else. Those hurt and yes, they pack a nasty punch. I've only had this type once as far as I can remember. But poor Hunter would have it worse since Belos could literally puppet him to be the one to harm the best friend he loved most:
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The relational ones, though? That involve being blamed and/or abandoned, with no physical threats? Those are where you are in touch with the shame, which in a way makes it the worst of all three in my opinion. Because the deep sense of shame is the aspect of the condition which you can't reason your way out of using impersonal logic...in the way that you can e.g. come up with an escape plan or hold off an assailant.
The most memorable one was being in a dark room, almost entirely pitch black, seeing my 5 or 6-year-old self looking at me like this:
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and because you just know stuff in dreams, I knew she was demanding an answer from me, as to why I wasn't there for her to protect her.
And holy smokes this was freakier than the first two categories. Because I had no adrenaline in my system, and somehow this third kind of dream always takes place in narrow spaces where I can't sprint and run elsewhere. Brainnnn, whyyyy?? Therefore I couldn't even give myself an adrenaline rush from fleeing anyway if I wanted to. (Idk if anyone else experiences this?) The first two kinds always took place in wide spaces e.g. underground parking lots and forests.
A similar nightmare involved an abusive family member whom I was trapped on a small boat with, and I had to listen to him demean and minimize me all over again while I was stuck, and I somehow didn't make myself just jump off the boat to swim away.
This type of nightmare is the one that can get me upset for hours after I wake from them, while with the others I get out of the shock a lot quicker for some reason.
For Hunter...it would involve Belos, other Grimwalkers, his friends and others such as those he previously worked with in the Castle, blaming him and judging him in his nightmares. Worst is if Flapjack does the same to him and rejects him. And I apologize for this angsty train ride but...but...he might see those poor lost palismen all over again, since it points towards the profession we see him thriving in, during the epilogue sequence...:
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*drags this lost child to therapy sessions*
So yeah. The first two kinds are a more straightforward fit with how C-PTSD changes a person's neural networks and primes them to act relatively calmly in actual physical crises. The high price paid is, the person therefore struggles once things become safer (e.g. arguing with someone who is actually a safe presence), in some twisted unfair form of compensation. This is seen in how Hunter's triggers properly emerge once he's actually physically distanced from Belos: Labyrinth Runners and For the Future are the main examples.
It is painful and difficult, only becoming easier once the person has built a solid support network and can repair their own relationship with themselves.
In fact, my body sometimes feels as though I strangely want such a thrill e.g. riding in an ambulance all over again, a re-enactment of those times of high alert, because they are still more 'comfortable': rather than having no choice but to experience and accept that ingrained sense of shame, process it, and ride the wave instead of simply throwing a punch at it or evading it. Wanting that thrill is our equivalent of wanting a "fix", I guess.
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Safe to say, this is why the canon Watching and Dreaming moments that hit hardest are the (false) blaming statements that Luz's friends direct at her. Because the ultimate test is whether the dreamer believes those or not.
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theflyindutchwoman · 4 months
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It's been a while without the rookie so between the fanfics, the wishes for chenford and the ideas of what chenford could be and others shows who focus more on relationships, maybe it got lost that the rookie isn't as angsty that what some peoples think it is right now. Angela/wesley for the past 3 seasons, nolan/bailey in s4 with the ex husband, they got their up and downs but they don't break up. Once they have their endgames the show don't throw breakups for the fun or angst of it. The show priorites isn't relationships dramas, if it was they could have done SO MUCH MORE in s4 with chris,ashley and chenford. This is also why I respectfully don't understand peoples who think a breakup would be fun for angst because the only angst you'll have is them looking at each other for 3 sec if we are lucky like in 5x3 and then they'd be off doing their cops things. Waiting week after weeks for this would be boring and annoying as hell after waiting 5 years. And I know some peoples are worried about it, but a breakup wouldn't be spoiled.
Honestly, I just think people were simply stating what they wished to see. Someone asked them a question and they answered. It was about their preferences… I know that when I received a similar ask in the past, the logistics of the show didn't necessarily factor in my reply.
I can't speak for anyone who would like to see a breakup - or anyone else for that matter - but I think it's pretty fair to assume that what they want is a separation that makes sense, that is properly developed, with decent screentime and a real storyline that involves far more than just 3 seconds of pining here and there. The same way I want to see Lucy and Tim face some ups and downs : it's under the assumption that it is going to be written in a beautiful way and not rushed. And it is technically doable. Take episodes 5.08 to 5.12 for instance : Tim and Lucy had a fair amount of screentime dedicated to their relationship. The writers could easily use that same amount for a more angsty storyline or a breakup. Especially if it's related to UC : it could be linked to a case. A bit like 5.20 and 5.21. Though a shorter season does present a bigger challenge, that's for sure.
And you're right, the show doesn't really do 'breakups/reconciliation' storylines. Actually, it doesn't really do 'breakups'… Rachel, Gino and Isaac are still waiting for one. Jokes aside, the show did have a storyline like this for Wesley/Angela, but that was at the very beginning… I don't know if Bailey/Nolan broke up once it was revealed she was still married, but since it was solved by the next episode, I guess it's a moot point. Same with Nyla/James. And with her sleeping with her ex-husband, there was a reason to go there (though I'm grateful we were spared a 'who's the father' storyline). All these arcs could have been much more dramatic, that's for sure. So far, the show hasn't really leaned into that side. That's why I'm a bit sceptical that they would do a plotline like this. On the other hand, Tim and Lucy's relationship has been far more developed… So it wouldn't be completely beyond the realms of possibility either.
I also doubt that Eric would spoil something like that. More than once. Then again, this is the same guy who made a video last year with his new uniform, spoiling his promotion in the process. So who knows?! I have to say though, the timing of this makes me curious. As far I can tell, he only started talking about breakups after he was directly asked about his opinion on the matter. Not before. I mean, I may be wrong on the timeline here since I don't check his cameos. But that's the way it appeared to me. It could be that he received more information in-between… In which case, talk about perfect timing. That said, I get why some would rather be prepared or are worried. That's not my place to judge them.
(I won't take the risk of tagging anyone here, not in this volatile atmosphere, but feel free to pitch in or correct me).
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louissatturi · 9 days
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Thank you so much for answering my questions! I was worried I sounded silly so I really appreciate you taking time out of your day to respond to me. 1. I'm not surprised that they're not too popular, I definitely think the second one fits Ordem Paranormal better, but I will admit, I was wondering if the first one got exposed for anything, so it's good to know that now... 2. I probably should've elaborated that I've been watching it with subtitles (thank you so much Equipe T!), you might've already guessed that though, and they referred to the food that they kept getting at the diner as "llounguets", it's possible that it was a translation error as there were some throughout the episodes (which honestly, I just kinda found it amusing, and I can't judge because I only know English and the amount of work put into translating is a lot, especially for how long these episodes are) (I will also say, I've been watching and reading so much that I'm actually starting to pick up words, not sure what that means for me, maybe it's a sign that I should try to learn another language again)
3. Oh I know some spoilers, I already feel bad for some of the upcoming characters 4. That's super interesting, the relics seem super fascinating to me (and I managed to get a friend really interested in them haha) so I'm really excited to see more of them, granted I just really find the elements interesting in general 5. Damn, oh well, guess I'll just have to support Enigma Do Medo in the hopes that the rulebook will get translated then! Or if not, then maybe I should start trying to properly learn Brazilian Portuguese... Still gonna watch the rest of the campaigns tho. 6. Liz and Joui! I'm really interested in seeing where they go (especially because uh, the first design of Joui's that I saw was his final design and uh, oh boy, I might've accidentally realized something about that design while looking through the wiki). The fandom makes sense though, I've just not watched too many RPGs before. I'll admit, I have a hard time picking a favorite, I honestly like all of them. 7. Ah, fair, I learned about Cellbit and Ordem Paranormal from watching QSMP so it's only fair that they're in the QSMP fandom as well (funnily enough, the reason I actually started watching the campaigns was because I didn't want to watch Purgatory, it just didn't interest me so I moved to something that did). I generally don't like Twitter, we'll see if I'm willing to make an exception, but I'll definitely look into the graphic novels (and hey, I'd be interested in that manga).
Thank you again! For
O i have the rulebook in digital form if you want it you can dm me! (I will inform it’s only in português lol)
Your welcomed! I love talking about ordem, thanks for asking questions ❤️
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yellowrosesforme · 2 years
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I met you and you were just my type
You're confident and outgoing, in a black t shirt, behind the bar
"do you do food?" and I ordered tempura vegetables
"where would you like to sit?" I look around, see the stools and say "here?"
"at the bar?" you ask with a hint of surprise in your voice, but follow that up with "yeah" with certainty in your voice.
I'm relaxed, your relaxed but it's a bit awkward at the start. Then something happens, the silences subside and we start chatting, getting to know one another
"so you do medical imaging software" as you wipe glasses "that means you studied... physics?" you guess confidently
"yeah" I reply
"where did you go?" so casually
"imperial" I reply
And you say "fuck"
I joke "I don't know how I did it" giggling
But you say I must be very intelligent and that its very impressive.
Awkward silence again, it's still the start of the evening.
The music is warm, round and acoustic. A ladies voice singing covers of pop songs.
I comment on the music and you say you reckon it's a Spotify playlist.
"so what's your jam then?" both arms on the bar
I reply "korn" with a big smile and you raise your eyebrows, surprised
Later you make a comment that everything I say is impressive. ('impressive'... you used that word but I can't remember the sentence you said)
You ask me if I'd like a drink and I say maybe later, and this happens a few times. But the chat isn't awkward, and you don't judge "I don't know if you've done barwork before... " as if I'm normal and you tell me a story about a job you had in canada wiping glasses and cutlery, and how soul destroying it was.
We've done the "where are you from?"s and now it's like we've known eachother a while. How we got onto your upcoming move to Canary Warf I don't remember.
"so you'll be in Canary Wharf, that's exciting, what will you be doing there?" the conversation is so breezy. You explain your going to be an accountant for the money, and your sure lots of people from imperial go to the big four.
My food is taken away and I ask for a drink, a recommendation. You ask me what I like to drink and I say rum and coke. You recommend Cracken rum with diet coke and some lime. You talk about how diet coke makes it taste more vanillary.
You ask about who I live with. You ask whether it's friends or a friend from work. And I say "yes, a friend from work". I'm surprised your guess was so accurate, almost as if you already knew me, just like the physics guess. We agree that it's great to have someone to bitch to about work.
You casually drop in your name, telling a story about your 21st birthday. Your girlfriend at the time hit her head on a slab and ended up with a black eye. Her friends thought she was lying about where she'd got it from "... has Oscar been hitting you?".
My drink is almost finished and I'm poking at the lime with my straw because I like lime coke. By now I've been introduced to other staff, Rupert and the bar manager. Your the barman.
You joke with your colleagues about your dress sense, but I wasn't listening properly then you turn to me and ask me if I know what an overshirt is. I say I don't have a clue and laugh. You've mastered the art of working and keeping your customers engaged.
You ask me about my second drink, standing close, slightly leaning forward and paying very close attention to my answer. I think. The level of attention you pay me is intoxicating.
"yesterday......
"yeaah"
"I wanted to try the merlot..."
"from the restaurant? yeah sure" and you give me a sample, telling me if I like it you'll get me a glass.
I sip and its dry and tannic, very different after the sweet rum and coke.
"Thoughts?"
I look up, your leaning closer than you have before, both arms on the bar. The bar has got louder.
I explain it's a bit bitter after my first drink.
"yeaah, it's the wrong order isn't it"
You've been giving me bottles to smell all evening. The first was the brandy with the purple label, and you explained how you don't like christmas cake or christmas pudding.
This time it's a peanut butter whisky. I ask "how do they get peanuts into whisky" and you say "I don't know" and you talk about the puns and quirky messages on the label, but how there's no explanation of how it's made.
I agreed it smells lovely and the bar manager suggests putting some bitter chocolate flavouring in. That's my second drink.
My third drink is pineapple rum. You give me a sample, as I smell it you ask me "what do you think it should go with?" and the expression on your face tells me you'd really like to hear my answer. I taste the sweetness and hit of ginger and say "lemonade?"
"that's what I was thinking" you say and we discuss soda water as an option too. Your listening very carefully to what I'm saying. We're discussing agreeing on lemonade and you need to go to another room to fetch something but as you leave the door you say "that's what got you into imperial" and that puts a smile on my face.
My forth drink is marmalade vodka. Another of your suggestions. This is when you remembered serving the Diplomatico to me yesterday, and suggested that but I said I'd like to try something new. The place is getting busy and your busy serving people, and I enjoy watching you. I think you enjoy me watching you. You keep topping up my tap water as I finish it, and handing it to me with a smile.
Halfway through my drink i tell you this will probably be my last one, and you nod. I finish my drink and get up. There are a lot of people crowded around the bar.
As I am walking out we are smiling at eachother, the sustained eye contact is comfortable, you blow me a kiss and my smile widens. Thank you for a lovely evening.
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angelamajiki · 3 years
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[ a father’s love ]
PARING: StepFather! Aizawa x StepDaughter! Reader
SYNOPSIS: Your stepfather took you in with open arms after the death of your mother. Depression gets the better of you and Shouta promises to take care of you. But just how far is he willing to go to see it through?
CW: yandere, pseudo-incest, mentions of stalkers, mentions of death, depression, mental health issues, pregnancy, noncon, somnophilia, bondage, daddy kink, praise kink, afab reader
AN: my first collab with the bnharem server!! the theme was roommates (i ran with the term loosely) read the other member’s takes here! mind the tags as usual and enjoy!! :)
The death of your mother shattered you. A freak accident with a villain attack had her crushed under rubble from a collapsed building. Your stepfather, Shouta, suggested that you move back home with him after her funeral. As tempting as the offer was, you were determined to make it through University and handle yourself like a big girl, an adult ready to take on the world. You had only moved out a few months before her death, independence calling to you after you received your college acceptance letter.
A few months and an eviction notice later, you crawled back to him, the only remnants of your family. Open arms enveloped you, bringing you solace and comfort in your dire time of need. You felt like a child, bundled up in his arms as you sobbed, screaming at the cruelty of the world. Depression hit you hard and deep, flunking you out of your classes and preventing the bills from being paid. You had no other alternative but to accept his offer.
“You time and space to grieve properly, kitty. The most logical thing to do is take a breather.”
Ah, kitty. He always knew that was your favorite nickname, calling you that ever since you were a little girl. He also always knew just what to say. Patting your thigh, he stood up and extended his hand to help you up as well.
“Let’s go step up your room. I'm sure you need a nap after that cry.”
He gave a wrinkly smile before disappearing down the hall.
Skeptical at first, you were unsure if it was the right move to return home. You needed time to figure out what you wanted, what you needed. A break from life would give you a chance to sort things out, right? And Shouta was more than prepared to use this opportunity to show you he would be all that you needed and more.
The man was nothing short of doting and generous. A shoulder to cry on, a good laugh, a friend, a father. He helped you piece your broken soul back together. Whenever he wasn’t patrolling, he was at home with you. When your depression seemed to drown you, Shouta was there to pull you out of the water. He made sure you ate, helped brush your hair when it was matted, and got you into clean clothes daily. It was the small things that he did for you that helped your demeanor change.
“Up and at ‘em, kitty. Breakfast is on the table.”
You grunted, burrowing deeper into your bedding. A chuckle reverberated in his throat as he rubbed your lower back soothingly.
“C’mon, I know you haven't been eating lately. Let's get some food in you. I made your favorite.”
But as time passed, his help could only do so much. Your mental health continued to dwindle, plummeting into the ground when her first anniversary passed.
Gentle strokes of a brush smoothed through your tangled hair. Shouta was kind enough to help you when your head got matted into a rat’s nest, being incredibly tender and gentle with you. Tears streamed down your face, broken hiccups and sobs bubbling from your chest. You were trying to hold it in, he could tell. A sweet kiss was placed on the back of your head as he enveloped you in a comforting embrace, letting his hands sip down to your hips to rub circles in.
“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”
He was the only one that was.
The domestic dynamic the two of you fell into hardly felt like one of parent and child, but more as two lovers sharing a home they built together. The pair of you even adopted a new cat together in hopes of cheering you up. You can't say that you disliked it. It felt...nice to have your presence matter when it was a struggle even to be alive. Shouta always checked in on you; whether he sent you an update from work or shared a cat video. He really was the best father anyone could hope for, even when your depression got the worst of you.
Your depression started to manifest itself in many forms. Lately, you’d been having vicious nightmares, only to wake up with an unknown stickiness on your thighs. Recalling the night terrors was something that evaded you, but you knew you were being violated. Perhaps your body wet itself from the fear of the dream? It was the only logical answer you and Shouta could come up with. Depression sure had funny ways of physically manifesting itself. You thought that would be the end of it, putting the situation behind you.
It was until it started happening nightly. The nightmares only seemed to prolong themselves, worsening to the point where you could vividly dream of being assaulted. Your underwear was now soiled too, and it definitely wasn’t your doing. Fearing you had a stalker, Shouta installed brand new locks on your windows and doors, hoping to soothe you. He was a Pro-Hero, so he certainly had the means and know-how to protect you. It put you at some ease, but it continued to the point where your stepfather decided sleeping in the same room would help you feel safer.
It didn't.
The nightmares themselves only seemed to get worse, but Shouta was right there to comfort you as soon as you woke up shouting in a panic. He would take you into his arms and hold you until you fell back asleep. You felt like a child. But he didn't judge you.
After a month of strange behavior, the stress caused you to gain some weight. Visiting a doctor was your best bet to get an answer. He took you to your appointment, letting you hold onto his arm for comfort as his hand rested comfortably on your thigh. The two of you were mistaken for a couple by a nurse. What a strange, intimate relationship the pair of your tangled yourselves in.
The doctor ran some tests and had your blood drawn. The results were to be emailed to you in a few days. Shouta calmed your nerves with a tender kiss to the forehead, reassuring you that everything would work itself out.
The notification for the email came in a few days later while Shouta was at work and you were lounging in the living room. Patience was never your strong suit, so you took his laptop from the coffee table, only to open up to a camera feed. Coming from your room.
The blood in your veins ran cold as you looked into the memory drive of the feed. Maybe he set up a camera to see what was happening during your nightmares? That had to be it; how could you assume the worst of your sweet dad? The only saved footage to be found was him fucking himself deep inside of your sleeping body.
“I see the results are in.”
You nearly jumped out of your skin at the sound of his voice. He always had a habit of sneaking up on you.
“What-” You couldn’t find the words to describe your anger. “What the fuck is this!”
Disgust. Rage. Dispair.
Your only family left had turned against you.
“You were upset at the loss of your family, kitty. So I decided to give you a new one.”
He couldn't possibly mean…
“You’re pregnant.”
Bile rose to your throat as you gagged at the mere thought of his words. Pregnant? With your father’s child? His betrayal cut you more profoundly than your mother’s death ever could have. But it couldn't have made more sense—his touches, his comfort, sleeping in your room, the nightmares that plagued you.
“You’re sick!”
You shouted, tears streaming down your face as you continued to pummel insults and nasty spats at him. You lost your voice by the end of your rant, panting and heaving while sweat beaded your brow. He just stood there, taking everything in with a grain of salt.
“I understand, kitty. I really do. I should have been straightforward with my intentions.” He confessed.
The capture weapon around his neck snagged you the second you moved on the couch.
“Let daddy make it up to you. I'll make everything better for my pretty little kitty.”
It secured you to the sofa, keeping your legs spread and your hands behind your torso. On his knees in front of you, Shouta was ready to serve his apology with his tongue. Panties and sweatpants were ripped at the seams before being tossed aside.
He caressed your thigh with a delicate touch, pressing his lips to the other side. A kiss was pressed to your clit before long slow strokes of a hot tongue lavished it in attention. He kneaded your thighs gently all the while, humming as he began to alternate between licking and suckling on your sensitive nub.
Your head thrashed about in your binds as you shouted in protest.
“S-Stop it right now! Get off of me, dad!”
In a desperate plea, you hoped that hearing you call him dad would force him back into reality. Instead, he groaned and took a breath.
“Call me that again, kitty.”
A hot mouth sealed over your wet cunt as he dove his tongue between your folds while sucking with his lips. The pleasure was undeniable; his tongue was too experienced to ignore how his ministrations made you feel. Toes flexing and curling, you cried out of a mix of frustration, disgust, and humiliation as he continued to work at your dripping hole. This pig was getting off on the fact that he was fucking his daughter. It made your soul shatter all over again, the one he worked so hard to rebuild.
You continued to sob, moans now added to the mix, as he worked a finger inside of you. He made a curling motion after plunging in knuckle deep. A pleasured shout broke between your cries.
“I'll take it that’s your sweet spot, pretty girl? Good to know.”
He continued to abuse that spot, slowing down just a touch with his tongue to drag out the ride to the peak. Can't have you coming too fast, now can we? Your moans and whimpers spurred him on even more as he wiggled another finger inside you.
Removing his mouth, he focused on stretching and loosening up your tense body. You were lax when sleeping, so sliding in was a pinch with his size. But now he has to deal with you thrashing and struggling against his bonds. Disgust and pleasure churned together in your gut, feeling the incoming orgasm approaching hard and fast. Shouta felt you clench around his fingers and added a third, using his thumb to swipe your clit back and forth. With a final cry, you came on his fingers with a shout as your body convulsed in the capture weapon. You found what little peace you could in your short-lived post-nut clarity, taking a moment to breathe and center yourself.
Your father gave you no such chance to do so, immediately springing his cock free and rubbing the tip against your clit to gather your wetness. A chuckle sounded in his throat as he watched you twitch even more from the stimulation that was starting to border on being painful.
“Relax, kitty. Being tense won't do you any good.”
He slowly nudged his cock into your hole, groaning as he took his time bottoming out inside you. Praise spilled from his lips as he let you adjust, feeling your pussy clench tight around him. Good girl, good kitty. He shushed your sobs, smoothing the tears off of your face with the pads of his thumb. Murmurs of good girl and taking me so well slipped your senses. The pace he set was slow and deep, letting you feel every agonizing inch of his rather impressive dick.
Your flowing tears were kissed away as he proceeded to thrust faster and deeper. The sound of skin slapping against one another filled the room, even above your now weakened crying and whimpers. Sweat beaded on your brow plastered your hair to your forehead. His breath was warm against your cheek, his moans of pleasure so close to your ear forced you to stay in the moment.
Shouta swallowed your cute noises with a kiss, cupping and stroking your cheek with his right hand while his left pinned your hips down into the cushions. He did his best to stop your tears, pushing the hair off of your sweaty face. A few minutes passed filled with kisses, cries, and deep thrusts before he maneuvered you to be seated in his lap. Back pressed into the cushions, he lazily thrust up into you, hands grabbing your now bouncing ass. His thumb made its way back to your clit as he rubbed it in small circles, grinning at your cries of pleasure that you couldn't hold back. Dark brown eyes fluttered shut as he groaned and moaned proudly, increasing the speed of his thrusts as he felt himself getting closer and closer.
He usually lasted longer while you were sleeping; he does have quite a bit of stamina from his hero work. But something about seeing your flushed, torn face, hearing your whimpers and cries, he can't help but cum rather quickly for his own record. The pleasure was manifesting itself within you again, a second orgasm hitting you like a speeding truck as you gasped and choked for air at its intensity. Shouta was soon to follow, grunting and moaning loudly as he filled your cunt with his spend. He rode out both your orgasms, relishing in the silence between the two of you. It was better than hearing your broken, choked up wails.
It was wrong; he knew that. Breaking your trust, violating you, sabotaging your personal life, he couldn't help but be selfish with you. But he always knew what was best for you, always knew how to take care of you when you couldn't.
Foreheads pressed together, he caught your sagging body against him in a warm hug, stroking your hair when you started to sob uncontrollably.
“Let it out, kitty. I'm here for you.”
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bintturaab · 3 years
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@ sweet sis anon
Of course I remember you! Wallahi, you're not being a burden or bothersome in any way. Please just hang in there for a while, and know that you're going through the same trials and walking in the same footsteps as the sahabah radiAllahu anhum. Allah عز وجل tests those He loves, so please don't think of taking off your hijab for even a second because of feeling like less than an ideal Muslim. There is no ideal Muslim. This is a flimsy concept. We are not supposed to be perfect, Allah doesn't even expect us to be. We are human because we sin and we make mistakes. Every one of us does. That does not make us any less of a Muslim in the eyes of Allah. The definition of good varies from person to person. Allah does not expect us to be flawless Muslims; but only that we try to please Him and do what He ordained us to. He sees and knows we are struggling. So please, hold on to your faith, your sanity and your hijab for just a little while longer, relief is on its way; its always on its way in big and subtle ways. Wearing a hijab despite feeling like you're not a good Muslim at all does not make you a hypocrite, instead, it is you refusing to let go of whatever remnant of your deen you have with you. And that is a beautiful thing; to hold on to whatever of your deen is left with you when you feel like everything is slipping away and nothing makes sense anymore. Allah does not judge us as harshly as we judge ourselves.
I think, for the time being, read and listen to the lives of the Sahabah radiAllahu anhum. It helps immensely. And as Allah عز وجل Himself said, seek help through sabr and salah. Keep reading His words for strength and courage and solace.
Allow me some time to properly answer in detail sis, I'm just saying this from the top of my head because I can't just ignore your messages like that 😭 and of course, I'd love to be your friend, honestly, I love you dearly for the sake of Allah 🥺❤ you'll be in my duas sis
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d-xs · 4 years
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PROMPT:
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KEEP THEM ALL IN AWE
Jason Todd & Damian Wayne & Jason Todd
The ruckus that welcomes Jason Todd into the cave is very different from the usual post patrol noise he is well used to. The atmosphere is tense and he knows, if he didn't have the protection of his helmet, he would be choking on the scent of their stress.
For starters, one of the batmobiles is revving, Tim's arm is bleeding so badly it looks like someone almost got away with the arm. Dick's usual smile is very strained, while Bruce and Damian are absent. Usually, when there's a ruckus of this magnitude combined with a bleeding Tim, Damian can be found in the middle of it.
Jason is debating on the merit of getting on his bike and leaving the others to deal with whatever mess they're currently in the middle of when Dick pulls out what is unmistakably Damian, from the driver's seat of the batmobile.
"Tim!" Dick growls with a slight hint of alpha command, as he bodily hauls Damian away from the car.
The brat doesn't make it easy on Dick.
"You were meant to be watching them!" Dick scolds.
"Yeah, I was!" Tim retorts angrily from where he is trying to clean his freshly acquired cut.
It looks more serious than Jason first thought.
"And I almost lost my arm for it. Why didn't you search him properly for all his weapons?"
"Be grateful I did not go for your jugular," Damian's haughty voice cuts in, before Dick can respond to Tim's retort. "The next time you attempt to lay a hand on him, I will relieve you of your head."
There is so much wrong with this picture, Jason feels like he's slipped into an alternate universe.
That must be it, because Damian in Dick's grasp is much smaller than the Damian Jason had seen earlier on patrol. Hell, he's much smaller than he was when he took up the Robin mantle. He looks just like the kit in Jason's memory of the League.
It has been years since he made an attempt to hurt Tim. Not to mention, he is fighting against Dick, the only person in the world who can get him to behave.
On second thought, Jason wishes he was in an alternate dimension. At least that way, he could return to his own universe without dealing with a de-aged Damian, who still has the values Ra's instilled in him.
Since settling into his life and his place in the pack, Jason has been recovering some memories he didn't even known he was missing. A lot of them he could do without. Especially his memories of the League, both before the pit and the early days after.
As bad as remembering how he really died and the events that led to it had been, Jason would take that over the memories of just how evil Ra's al Ghul truly is. The vile things the man had put Talia and Damian through always makes Jason sick.
However, as much as Jason would like to escape this situation, the Omega in him would never abandon a kit in danger. And there was no one in greater danger than someone challenging an alpha.
Damian is backed up against the passenger side of the batmobile now. Or rather, he's blocking Dick's path to it. His dagger is missing, but he's not deterred.
"Damian, no one will hurt him here," Dick says in a placating tone.
"Of course, you will not," Damian sneers. "You will not live long enough to regret it if you do, because I, unlike you lot, do not suffer those who hurt my family to live."
"Then let us help him."
Dick may be trying to maintain his friendly attitude, but Jason can see how strained it is.
"I have seen what help you offer," Damian says, absolutely unrelenting. "We have no need for it. If my father will not come out to face me, then we will be on our way."
Jason snorts at the brat's attitude.
The sound distracts them from their fight, gaining him both their attention.
"Who are you?" the brat demands, as he takes in Jason's form.
Jason can see the wariness in his eyes; he knows he won't stand a chance if Jason decides to team up with Dick against him. But the kid stands his ground and holds his chin up.
Brave boy.
Now Jason is curious about what he's protecting so fiercely.
"What are you doing here?" a deep voice asks from behind him, before he can answer Damian's question. "I told you not to return to the cave after patrol." Bruce continues, stomping into the cave from the manor.
"When have I ever done anything you told me?"
"Little Wing, B is right," Dick cuts in softly. "You don't want to be here right now.
The fact that Jason knows they're not dismissing his presence from the cave because they don't think he is a trusted member of the pack does not help. He may be an Omega, but he does not need to be protected. Certainly not from a child.
Not Damian.
Dick may be their resident Damian-whisperer, but he's clearly out of his element right now.
"Go fuck yourself," Jason snaps,
He takes off the helmet and domino mask underneath to give Damian a better view of his face.
"Ahki," Damian breathes, staring at Jason in disbelief.
The brat's reaction is exactly what Jason hoped for, but he did not anticipate how hearing that word from the kid would make him feel. He's stripping out of his jacket and armor to rip off his scent blockers before he's aware of what he's doing.
"Habibi," he acknowledges, crouching down so the kid can look him in the eye as he runs a hand through Damian's hair.
A soft cooing sound he wasn't aware he was capable of escapes his throat when the kit leans into his touch. He's not aware of his actions when he pulls the kid into a hug.
Damian is speaking to him in Arabic, and Jason knows he should listen, but his instincts are too jumbled for him to make sense of anything.
It has been too long since the Omega in Jason was let loose like this. Having this kit, the one he claimed so long ago in his arms again is pushing everything to the extreme.
He and Damian never talked about their shared past in the League. Jason knows it's partly due to his lack of memories, but also because he would never make Damian relieve those awful memories.
"Jason." The name is a command, a demand and a question all rolled in one, judging by the tone of Bruce's voice. It drags Jason out from the haze of instincts and hormones.
Jason bares his teeth, snarling at the alpha, even as he gathers his kit into his body to shield him from both alphas.
"Hey," Dick says, raising both hands in surrender.
"You're both safe, Little Wing. No one's going to hurt him," Dick continues.
Jason knows deep down that he's safe. They are his pack, his alphas. They will never hurt him or his kit, but the thought that they would take him away is unsettling. However, the haze of instincts has cleared off enough for him to think.
He turns an accessing gaze on Damian. He looks dirty and unkempt. Jason notes that his pants are a part of the traditional League attire, but he's missing the shirt and hood coat.
"You know Dick and your father," Jason tells Damian. "You can trust them."
Damian doesn't respond for a moment as he watches both alphas warily. "Even him?" He sneers at Tim who's currently stitching his arm.
"Yes, Habibi. He means well."
He gives the kit a little lick on the neck when he doesn't argue with Jason. He is proud to know that this Damian, at least, trusts him.
"Can you tell me what happened to you?" Jason asks, ignoring Bruce and Dick's looks of surprise and confusion.
Instead of speaking, like Jason expects, Damian pulls out of Jason's hold and nudges him away from the passenger door of the batmobile, reminding Jason that Damian has been protecting someone since Jason arrived.
It takes a while for him to coax them out, so Jason rises from his crouch to stand beside Dick and Bruce as they wait.
Knowing Damian, Jason had been expecting his precious cargo to be a dog, or cat or just about any one of the strays he has a penchant for adopting.
The last thing Jason expected to see, however, is a miniaturized version of himself.
The shock of it causes him to stumble forward, which turns out to be a very bad move as it sends the kid scrambling back inside the car.
"What the fuck?" Jason hisses, turning to Bruce and Dick for an explanation, while Damian -- God, that's not their Damian, is he? He wasn't de-aged by a spell or anything. Just one from an alternate universe -- focuses on comforting the kid.
"That's what we were trying to avoid," Dick sighs tiredly. "Red Robin ran into them on patrol. We still don't know how they got here, but Bruce thinks they've been in our time a couple of days, at least."
"And you weren't going to tell me that you have a younger me present?" Jason growls lowly. "Where's Damian?"
"Upstairs," Bruce grunts. "Where you should be. We don't know how you two interacting with your past selves will mess with the timelines."
"Yeah, you have Flash turning back the time whenever things don't go his way, or hopping back and forth to the future, but Damian and I interacting with our past selves is what will mess with the timeline," Jason scoffs. "Perfect logic, Bruce."
"It's not like that, Jay," Dick says, in his mediator voice. "We were looking out for you, too."
"How about you ask me next time?" Jason informs them.
During his confrontation with Bruce and Dick, Damian has disappeared inside the car with little Jason.
"I'm going to talk to him," he informs the alphas. "Both of you make yourselves scarce by the time they emerge."
He doesn't wait for a response before he turns away. It's not like they can object. He's the only one who can ensure this doesn't end in someone getting seriously hurt.
He knocks twice on the door to announce his presence, before opening it.
Little Jason is curled up against Damian. He looks even smaller next to Damian. Jason knows he was very small for his age when he was younger, but he has a hard time remembering ever being this tiny. He can't be older than four or five years old.
The kid doesn't look up at Jason, but the tremor running through him, the hand clutching Damian tightly, and the scent of his fear filling the car lets Jason know he's aware of him.
Jason knows the feeling. It was a constant companion whenever Willis was around and he's aware that he's reminding this kid of the man.
"Hey, Sky Lark," Jason coos softly, just like his mom used to. In hopes that both the familiar pet name and the tone will help him relax.
The boy's head snaps up to stare at Jason, mouth hanging open like he had something to say but has forgotten it.
"I know you're scared, and that's okay," Jason says in his most comforting tone. "But you don't have to be. No one here is going to hurt you."
The boy is watching him with wide eyes now, through the mistrust.
"I promise you."
"You can trust him, Jason," Damian adds confidently. "He is what you become in the future. You should be proud."
Jason isn't sure about that. Sure, he has come a long way from the helpless little kid he used to be, but he's not sure he can take pride in what he is now. But young Jason is even more fascinated with him as he watches Jason with big doe eyes.
"Is that true?" Little Jay asks, his voice a timid little voice. "Are you me in the future?"
"Yes, I am."
"But you're so big!" the kid exclaims with a cute lisp.
Jason grins. It's all he can do not to gather the pup in his arms and scent him. "You will be as big as me when you're grown, too," he promises. "I'm going to take care of you, okay?"
"Can Damian come too?" he asks, his hold on Damian tightening for a moment.
"Of course, I will," Damian assures him. "Not that I need caretaking." He backtracks.
Jason snorts. "Damian is coming with us. I'll take care of both of you."
The kid looks to Damian for support, copying Damian's action when he nods.
"'Kay."
When Jason stretches his arm to pick the pup up, Little Jay meets him halfway, snuggling closer as he breathes in Jason's scent.
They remain there for a while longer, with Jason scenting and grooming his mini me before stepping out of the car.
When he does, he doesn't pause to speak to anyone. He heads directly for his nest in the manor. Whatever there is to know can wait until the kids are cleaned, fed and well-rested.
One thing he knows is this: there's no way he's returning these kids back to their timelines. If Bruce has a problem with it, he can take it up with Jason.
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mbti-notes · 4 years
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Hi. thank you for writing this blog, you're really helpful. I'm sorry if my question is weird. I'm physically unattractive and people often comment/mocking my looks. because I was a very sensitive kid, I withdraw from people and become really introverted. now I'm in college but my communication skill got worse. when classmates talk to me, my mind went blank and I always need seconds to answer. I want to know what's wrong in my thinking, is it because I can't accept the reality of my looks?
Not a weird question at all. No child deserves to be mistreated and I’m sorry that you had to go through the bullying. There are two main issues that I think you need to address: 1) the residual effects of being bullied, and 2) your standards for evaluating the worth of people, including yourself. 
1) People get bullied for all kinds of things. It’s missing the point to try to compare what kind of bullying is worse than others. The most important point, in terms of psychological health, is your subjective experience of the bullying and whether it had a significantly negative impact upon your well-being. In children, the experience of constant bullying is a recognized form of psychological trauma. 
When people experience emotional trauma, the way that they perceive and assess situations changes. It has to. All human beings have a survival instinct. When you live your life experiencing constant threats, it is normal and rational for the mind to find ways of protecting itself. Therefore, bullied children are much more likely to feel fearful, anxious, and/or defensive in social situations, since most of their social learning took place in situations that were legitimately threatening, hurtful, and painful for them. Unfortunately, fearful, anxious, or defensive behavior tends to get worse over time and causes problems in life when the original trauma is never properly addressed and resolved. This is why bullied children are more likely to struggle with mental disorders as well as socialization and relationship problems later in life.
Children need care, love, and affection to thrive, but many are thrust into bad situations, and it’s not their fault. As a child, you barely know up from down, so you can’t be expected to know how to fend for yourself in very negative social situations. Try to look at your situation more objectively. Imagine that, today, you were walking down the street and you witnessed somebody bullying a young child about their looks. How would that make you feel? Would you join the bully and ridicule the child, believing that the “ugly” child is worthless and deserves it? A sensitive person is capable of empathy, so I doubt that you’d want to be the bully. An empathetic person would immediately know that the child was being mistreated and want to stop the bully, would they not? A bully wants power over people, and their greatest success is to teach you how to bully yourself. Not only do they make you feel like shit by calling you ugly, they also gain complete control over you once they convince you to call yourself ugly, for the rest of your life. To be more objective, look upon your childhood self not through the disdainful eyes of your bullies but rather through the empathetic eyes of the good person that you are. You didn’t deserve to be bullied. You deserved to be loved. You deserve love.
Everybody needs to go through level 2 ego development in terms of learning how to adapt well to their social environment. If your social environment is loving and full of affection, you’re going to learn that the world is a safe and positive place, so you’ll naturally feel confident in navigating it. If your social environment is threatening and painful, you’re going to learn that the world is a frightening place, so you’ll naturally feel unsafe and insecure in most situations. As a child, you had to adapt to a negative social environment as best as a child could. From being bullied, you “learned” again and again that physically “beautiful” people get praised and physically “ugly” people get scorned. Since you were repeatedly called “ugly”, you’ve come to expect that people will scorn you, and you might even start to unconsciously attract people who confirm your distrustful worldview. Bullying is always worse for children because they have no preexisting knowledge of how to cope with it. The early adaptations that you learn in childhood tend to stay with you because they serve as your “default” mode. Whenever you feel a little bit stressed by a social situation, your psychology tends to “regress” to those early adaptations, even when the present situation poses no objective threat to you. It’s a mental reflex, aka a defense mechanism.
There’s a lot of debate in the psychological community about whether it’s possible to rid the brain of traumatic memories. However, even if you take the most pessimistic position of believing that childhood trauma is written into the brain and stays with you forever, that doesn’t mean nothing can be done about it. If you are able to improve your awareness and understanding of the many ways that your past trauma has impacted your cognitive, emotional, and behavioral patterns, you can then implement some practical strategies for disengaging your past adaptations, i.e., you can learn healthier coping mechanisms instead of allowing your “default” mode to run the show all the time. This is generally what they teach you in cognitive-behavioral therapy. A lot of people are in therapy to try to make sense of past trauma or abuse.
For example: You’re talking to someone new, and you suddenly freeze up. Why did you freeze up? What’s going on? Time to reflect on yourself honestly. Chances are, you are afraid. Based on your past experience, perhaps you’re afraid of trusting this new person only to have them turn around and mock you, and then you’re instantly that hurt kid again. It is a perfectly reasonable fear to have because you have experienced it several times before. Humans are considered smart for being able to learn from their past experience. Once you’re aware of the fear and its source and able to accept it as legitimate, then you have a chance to implement a better coping strategy. Perhaps you take a deep breath and remind yourself that this new person is not the old bully of your past. Remind yourself to give this new person the benefit of the doubt. You can’t develop a good relationship without giving a little trust and being positive. A lot of people can overlook physically unattractive features once they see a nice personality, but it’s a lot harder to overlook a negative and distrustful attitude. Another way to cope better is to work on your people skills and communication skills, which will help boost your confidence.
2) Beauty has a very important place in human psychology. Without connection to beauty, people wouldn’t be able to access all the good, positive, wonderful, and sublime things about being alive. I would never downplay the importance of beauty; however, the fact is that most people’s concept of beauty is superficial and wrong. For a lot of people, beauty is merely about ego: comparing and contrasting, competition and jealousy, self-harm and violence. If beauty is meant to be a human good, then why does it drive people to be their worst selves? There’s something rotten going on. True beauty is NOT about whether you are more/less beautiful than, it’s about nurturing the ability to see the best side of everything in the world. Not many people nurture this ability in themselves. If you did, you’d never ever call yourself ugly, because everything in this world has some beauty in it. If you aren’t able to see it, then the problem lies in your own perception, not the object itself.
Human brains are built to process information about physical appearance very quickly. This cannot be helped. We all make snap judgments based on physical appearance because this ability was very useful for human survival. However, human beings also have the capacity to reflect on the veracity of their snap judgments as well as the intelligence to realize that outward appearance and inner qualities are two different things. Failure to use one’s higher intelligence means remaining very hasty and shallow in judgment. To be shallow isn’t just to care about appearances, because we are all primed to care about appearances, it’s to take appearances as the only/primary standard for JUDGING someone’s WORTH. Shallow people easily become bullies when they feel the need to elevate themselves socially by putting others down. All you have to do is read through comment sections on gossip pages to know that no one is immune to having their appearance mocked, not even beautiful celebrities or supermodels. No matter how objectively beautiful you are, there’s a shallow person out there ready and willing to pick you apart, for their own egotistical reasons. The fact of the matter is that there are lots of shallow people in this world. There’s no avoiding them, there’s no wishing them away, but you can always render their judgments meaningless, and thus very easy to ignore. 
Be brutally honest with yourself, would you rather use the criterion of “physical beauty” or the criterion of “good moral character” to choose a mate/friend for yourself? I’m not saying that the two criteria are mutually exclusive, I’m simply asking which one is more important to you. If you say “physical beauty”, then you must count yourself as one of the shallow people. And if you are shallow, you’re going to care a lot about what other shallow people think. By being shallow yourself, you’re doomed to judging yourself through the eyes of a shallow person - you. If you say “good moral character”, then congratulations, because you understand what really counts for creating a successful relationship. It takes someone of good moral character to recognize another, and when you have good moral character and prioritize it, it’s easy enough to see through shallow people and their meaningless judgments. If you surround yourself with people of good moral character - people who are capable of appreciating you for the good person you are and vice versa - you will exist in a very different social space, a place where shallow people can never get any real foothold.
Many people make the mistake of thinking that they need to be beautiful to be loved. Makes no sense. When you focus only on physical beauty, you turn people into mere objects, and, worse, you turn yourself into a mere object and allow others to treat you as such. Genuine feelings of love don’t come from physical beauty, they come from deep within the heart. What is it that you really want from people? Do you want them to praise your face and body? Is it going to make your life meaningful and fulfilled in the long run? No, because what people really want is love. To experience love, you must be a good person who is capable of love, and then you will have the ability to spot good people who are capable of loving you. If you are not even capable of loving yourself and seeing the beauty in yourself, how can you ask others to? If you are not capable of loving people and seeing the beauty in them, what kind of people will you attract and who would want to be around you?
You are not a passive player in social situations. Children who are bullied often feel passive and helpless for good reason, but that doesn’t have to be the case for the rest of your life, does it? You get to choose your attitude towards socializing (whether to trust or distrust), you get to choose how to engage with people (whether to focus on outer or inner qualities), you get to choose what sorts of people to engage with (shallow or kind), you get to choose who to keep as your long term friends (those who praise your looks or those who appreciate your true beauty). When you always default to the old lessons you learned from childhood trauma, you’ve essentially given up the power to choose, thus remaining a victim indefinitely, trembling in fear in every social interaction. And if the only standard you have for navigating social situations is the “physical beauty” standard that shallow people told you should be elevated as the most important human quality, you’re going to live a very shallow existence, devoid of love, because you’re not using the right standards in your approach to relationships. Do you want to think in the same way that the bully taught you, or do you want to have your own way of looking at the beauty in the world and trust in yourself?
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jiwonsssi · 5 years
Text
— stress relief, p. 2
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All well that ends well.
Warnings: its pure pwp, idek where to start
Characters: Eun Jiwon/Sandara Park
Realisation of the upcoming uneasy conversation came upon Dara at the moment when he finally stopped a car in front of her apartment building; Jiwon was tensed at the point that even air was thick around them. He tried his best to afford it; to fail miserably. Dara could tell that he's stressed, because he squeezed the steering wheel to the point of white knuckles.
She wanted to break the atmosphere, to say something, that would ease his nerves. But what would that be? 'I didn't mean that, you know. You misunderstood. Hehe'.
No, Sandara doesn't want to take her words back. But the atmosphere now is changed. A lot. They barely even talked after he took her our of the event.
She said exactly what she meant to say. But with what have she been thinking when asking it; only God knows.
She was nervous as well. And it was no less obvious - tugging on the hem of her dress and not even looking at him; feeling like a teenage girl again. But shes not teenager anymore, right? It was her who said that, it's not like she can just bury her head in sand now.
So Dara found all the courage she had to ask him again.
Dear Lord and God and Jesus and someone out there, she had never did anything like that. Never in her life she stuck in a situation like that; Jiwon never helped her. Though he was never easy.
- So, I.. - she looked at the panel of his car, scanning with eyes smooth black plastic like it was the most fascinating thing she ever saw, - Look, I, um, it's not like I want to take my words back. In fact, I'd hate to, but I..
She hears him laughing all of sudden and looks at him with all anger she can manage. She was trying to say important staff! With all her courage! What audacity he really holds, huh.
- Don't make excuses, we both understand what it was, okay? You look ridiculous right now, - he continues smiling and Dara doesn't feel offended or something. They indeed understand. Yeah.
Dara smiles at him, nodding. She has no idea what should she understand.
- Coffee? You helped me earlier and took me home, I need to thank you now anyway, - atmosphere is still a little tense but it's not awkward anymore. She doesn't feel out of place. She has met him a few times and it all was in uncomfortable circumstances; yet she was always okay. It's all on him, right?
Jiwon helps her everytime in the end.
- Sure, - he agrees maybe a little too quickly. Maybe. And maybe she smiles a little too wide, - Let's go.
Fresh air feels incredible and Dara takes a few extra seconds to inhale; she had been crying like a bear just an hour ago and memories are still vivid. Her knees a little weak and hands shake slightly; it's difficult to make it to the elevator on heels, but she manages. She can sense that Jiwon waits for her by not walking too fast. And that is the part of a reason why she doesn't feel like falling to the floor and crying till the next morning.
- Aren't you tired? I can make it, - he stands a few steps away, burying his hands deep in the pockets and looking a lot more relaxed. Dara hopes that his brain is no longer filled with unnecessary thoughts and she's really happy about it, - I mean, your shoes. And in general. You know, the whole evening, all that cameras, people around..
He's rumbling and it's so cute, she smiles widely, not being able to surpass it. Oh, God. He cares. He really does.
- If you were wondering why I cried, it's because I was overwhelmed with 'the whole evening', you are absolutely right here, - Dara looks at him, trying to ignore everything that she feels about the whole thing. Because now she is not less overwhelmed, to be honest. But with different emotions somehow. Because maybe they stand a little too close, - I'm good now, so don't worry. Let me do it for you, okay? I'll be in my fluffy slippers, so it should be fine.
Jiwon smiles again, hiding with hand and it also feels amazing. He truly is her teenage year's crush. But now she is no longer a teenager, and he is no longer unattainable.
If it would be possible to tell teenage Sandara that something like that would happen in the future.. God, she would live only by waiting for it.
- Okay. Only because of fluffy slippers, - and the atmosphere is so good, she literally cannot hide how happy she is. Dara feels herself so light-headed. Like that shitty day, even, maybe, a week, suddenly came to this exact point to bring her an actual cure in the face of Eun Jiwon. Totally worth it.
- Feel yourself at home, - she offers him to enter first, apologizing that she has only one pair of fluffy slippers and even offering it to him; he says no, but Dara believes it's only out of politeness. No one can say 'no' to pink fur in their right mind.
She then goes to kitchen, feeling like she's flying - those heels really made her look fine as hell, even she was sure about it, but now she doesn't feel less fine without them; just a lot more short. A lot. Ugh.
She hears water splashing from afar when she had only turned a coffee machine on, and so at the next moment, he's standing beside a small kitchen counter already without a jacket and three upper buttons undone, looking through his phone with utterly serious expression. Jesus Christ. That is no good for her mental stability.
- My manager was looking for me. I feel like I'm five, - he puts his phone on a surface and rubs his face; Dara gets it quickly - he's annoyed.
- And so as an adult you patiently told him where you are so he wouldn't be nervous, - she turns to pay attention to the working machine, which already filled the air with strong coffee aroma, - Didn't you?
She doesn't get response quickly, but when she does, it's equally cute and hilarious.
- No, I told him to fuck off, - and Jiwon is so puzzled with himself now, it's written on his face clearly. Dara just laughs again, shaking her head and proceeding to make americano, - In my defense, I was polite.
- You cannot say 'fuck off' politely, - technically you can. Possibly.
- But I did, - he's now standing behind her, looking above her shoulder on what she's doing, - Smells nice.
- Thank you, it's all on her, - she tups the top of coffee machine, ignoring how a brood of goosebumps ran down her spine.
Dara turns around to get another cup, not proceeding that Jiwon is right behind her. A lot more closer than she thought, actually. It's such a cliché.
- But still, - he's not planning on moving tho. She can feel him tensing up a little and the next thing he says.. any other man in any other situation would have been kicked out in seconds; but God knows, thoughts on their minds are absolutely the same, - Is there a chance I still can ask you that question?
She waits just a second, melting under his gaze, and he is oh-so-close and mother raised a decent woman but it doesn't matter anymore.
She is a decent grown up woman and she can sleep with whoever she wants to.
The thing is, she is the only one who thinks it's something bad. And her face shows it; Jiwon frowns and tilts his head a little. Like a cute little puppy, but Dara is sure you cannot look cute while being that hot.
- I'm not going to leave after, I promise. We can try to.. - he places his hand on her cheek and her exhale is so shaky. She desperately wants to give up to him, she can feel that pulsating sensation in her body when she's even imagining it for a second. She bites lower lip, frowning her brows a little. Why is she so scared? Jiwon clearly can sense it. That's why his breath is not better, it lingers on her lips, she feels every his word on her skin. The perfect distance to make her lose her mind, - I'll ask you on a date no matter what your answer would be, Sandara. Don't be so nervous. I'll wait as long as you need. And I'm okay with..
She doesn't let him finish when he unconsciously touches her lip with his thumb and she kisses it. His face is priceless. She would never forget this moment; she sees it like in slow motion. His pupils delaying and the way he gulps and furrows his brows. And that low slow 'fuck' under his breath when she takes it further, licking the tip, sucking on his thumb deeper, looking him directly in the eyes.
She's not going to regrer it.
It's not a secret that she likes him. It was even on national TV, like, a lot of people know that. But it's on another level when Jiwon kisess her; being firmly pressed against the wall and feeling his hands pushing up a short dress she wears - it's the whole new level. And she's so down for the game.
They barely able to breath properly because the kiss intensifies exponentially and Jiwon doesn't want to let her go just as much she doesn't want to get away from the heat his body radiates. She already gave up on trying to unbotton his shirt since it's not possible to make shaking fingers work properly. His lips are hot yet soft and he bites. God, he did bite her lip. And make her look at him in the process. She's trapped under his gaze, Dara moan silently, when he sucks on that bite gently.
She is at the point when everything that he does make her lose her mind. And he did bare minimum.
She hits her head on a wall when his lips starting to move down her neck; she wants to get rid of that dress so fucking much she's ready to rip it. And judging by how Jiwon grips the material, trying to find a zipper, she's not alone in that wish.
He pulls back to push his hair back and breath and Dara can't stand it. Fuck that dress, he looks glorious. She doesn't give herself a credit when she sucks on his Adam's apple and leaves tiny wet kisses on his hot skin, trying her best to undo his shirt finally. It's so impossibly satisfying to simply be that close to him. His scent, that filled her head rapidly; perfect mix of bitter smell of cigarettes and wooden, fresh cologne. Her head is spinning, and if not him pressing her to the wall, she would have fallen on weak knees.
He has all the chances to have her on her knees.
Everything that happens right now, on her mind or with her body, is strongly not like Dara acts in her life. Yet she loves it.
Her fingers meet his on his shirt and she doesn't expect touches this tender, when he squeezes her palms gently and holds it for a second, looking at her with a small smile and that soft peck on the tip of her nose. Goddammit.
- Please, stop doing it, I'm afraid I might fain, Jiwon, please, - she meowls it impatiently into his lips when he tries to kiss her and he smiles brighter, kissing her chin.
- What? - he's so proud of himself she wants to hit him. She meant his gaze, but God. She lets out a long moan under her breath, feeling his fingers messaging her through thin material of panties. Dara hits her head again, much harder this time, but she doesn't care. She cares about how does it feel like to grind on his hand while chasing his lips madly. Because that feels incredible.
Their faces are so close; she can feel his hot breath on her lips, how he sucks on air, when she moan louder because he decided to apply more power on her and his quick pecks everywhere when he can put himself together. Her nails digs in his skin harder when he pushes her underwear to the side to slide two fingers in. So slow, Sandara feels every millimeter and she moans all the way; his fingers are so fucking long. For a reason, apparently.
He moves them steadily, building rhythm in unison with her pinched meowls and hips' moves. She tries to chase for his hands, make him do it with more force and she doesn't know what to think when he complies. He understands everything she needs; he knows exactly what to do.
Dara surrenders to him; she has never felt this right in someone else's arms.
Jiwon made her cumming on his fingers in a few seconds.
She's blaming it on the fact that she was alone for a long time now; but she knows that it's her body reacting on him. In the ways she didn't know she was capable of.
Letting her head rest on his shoulder, she basks in the feeling of his palms gently soothing her bare skin.
She wants to hug him so much. To hug and to stay in his comfort forever. And she does. Dara pulls him closer, squeezing the material of his shirt in her hands. Somehow she wants to cry again.
- Do you think I did something wrong?
She's so afraid he would call her whore and leave. She doesn't care about anyone who have seen them leaving together, the press, internet. The whole world. She cares about waking up without him. She cares about finding disgust in his eyes. And..
- Sandara Park, God, if I told you that I don't, than I don't, - he pulls her face with his both palms to make her look at him and squeeze her cheeks, - And Lord knows I fed up with jerking off.
Jiwon looks at her with mixed adoration and his eyes are still filled with immense desire. She knows that she acts stupid and he suffers because of it. Yeah. Very stupid.
- Sorry, I just..
She starts rumbling and Jiwon rolls eyes, fighting the urge to shut her up. So Dara feels his kiss being a little bit forceful than she expected. But she quickly catches a hint; Jiwon moves away a bit, unzipping his pants and helping her to take off her underwear. No one talks about dress that is now pushed to her belly at this point.
There is a second before she kisses him again, tugging on his underwear to put it down enough to free his erection. Jiwon bites her lip and grunts lowly, when she strokes him painfully slow, squeezing the base lightly. Jiwon grunts again, throwing his head backwards and shuts his eyes, gulping and Dara thinks that that sight would be printed forever in her mind.
Jiwon's kisses are urgent now, he pulls her hand away and guides her to turn around and she complies to the hand on her spine to sag, pushing her hips into him. Dara is no less impatient by now. She has no idea how it is possible to make her this worked up just by doing.. Nothing. He did nothing. And she still wants him so much. He doesn't even imagine.
He pulls her closer with a hand snaking around her waist firmly and finds his way between her legs with another. Dara leans backwards, squeezing her palm on his wrist when he slides into her. He's painfully slow and when his full length is inside, he stops and places sloppy kisses at the base of her neck.
Sandara feels everything at once and it's a hard punch on her senses. And when he starts moving, she can't find any strenght to moan less louder. The only thing she cares about is him thrusting rapidly, his low grunts to her ear and the sound of skin slapping and it's the most erotic sound she has ever heard. Her head is spinning, it's impossible to stay still and she has nothing to cling to. Dara grips on the wrist of his hands and he starts to make steady rhythmic circles on her clit; Jiwon bites her ear, places a kiss there after and she meowls at his next words, feeling how the world turns into a blur when she turns her head, trying to look at him.
- Do it yourself, c'mon, - he can persued her to do anything with that voice. And he does. Jiwon tugs her palm and places it under his, letting Sandara doing it. She shuts her eyes tightly, finding herself equally ashamed and exciting, - Have you ever done it while thinking about me?
Jiwon doesn't stop even for a bit, but Dara can sense that he's a lot erratic and impatient now. He moans in her shoulder when she squeezes him and Dara is not twenty anymore. It's not like he could make her blush at everything he does or says. Even tho she can't help but blush hard.
- And you? - she shows one of her hand backwards, pulling on his hair and he particularly growls, - I know that you have.
Jiwon doesn't answer her, instead he thrusts harder, placing his forehead to the crook of her neck and guides her fingers to move, because she's so lost, she can't control her own body. She's on her toes by now, pushing her hips into his every time he puts any more pressure and it's so overwhelming. It's too much, she loses her sanity.
- I have and I'm not proud of it, - Jiwon whispers to her ear and she feels every part of her body tensing, like strings and she doesn't know if it's his husky voice, or scent in which she's drowning or his powerful movements. It's everything about him mixed up, that made her see blurred bright circles under her eyelids. She doesn't have strength to moan, just silent broken exhale and she grips his hair so hard, her fingers ache.
Jiwon pulls her impossibly close, he pushes her to the wall and after few moments she feels the loss of him, whimpering at the feeling. It feels cold suddenly, when he doesn't hold her anymore, now supporting himself with his hand on the wall. Dara turns around, nearly falling and covers his hand with hers and it's his turn to moan silently; there is not even a second when he releases in her palm, grunting low 'fuck' somewhere below her ear.
They stay like that.. Dara doesn't know for how many minutes. She listens to his now less erratic breath and tries to calm her own. It's like she's in another world right now, she doesn't know what to think about.
Right now, Sandara doesn't want to think about anything.
It's silence and than there is coffee machine beeping wildly, and she jumps in surprise, making Jiwon flinch and he.. laughs. Jiwon is laughing quietly, kissing her cheek and he hugs her gently, adjusting her dress so it falls down again.
She doesn't want to think about anything, but ahe does and it's not pleasant. If he would leave today, if he would go and forget about it, Dara doesn't know what would she do then. She doesn't want him to think that she does it everytime, because God knows she has a fucking checklist for a man who claims to get her in the bed.
Jiwon took that list, screwed it up and threw it to somewhere around her dignity.
God.
- If you still think I'm going to leave, you are dumb, - he kisses her again, placing small pecks on her face, looking at her finally. With such adoration, she's sure she feels butterflies in her stomach having a great party.
Maybe it's not that bad?
Dara thought he was going to despise her. She really did. She even accepted it in some way. But he smiles gently at her, kissing the tip of her nose and she sighs deeply, bumping her forehead on his shoulder to hide that happily stupid smile.
- I asked you to not to do that, please, - he kisses her temple, laughing and hugging her so strong her ribs clench.
- It's not like I sleep with women like that, you know. I'm no less surprised with myself right now, - he kisses her temple again and Dara can't help but close her eyes, drowning in his comfort, - What if you would think I'm not decent enough for you? Too careless or something?
- You are not, - she looks at him, finding him nodding to her answer.
- And so you too, - she proceed it for a second, not finding any lies in his words and frowns, realising that it's difficult to fight with logic.
- You might be not wrong, - he laughs at her choice of words and moves away, to adjust his clothes and goes to turn off the poor coffee machine that is still trying to keep coffee warm.
Dara looks at him from afar, smiling. He always says that he's not sure if he can make people comfortable; yet she has never been more comfortable around anyone.
And would never be, perhaps. That's why she doesn't regret anything.
She hugs him from behind, bumping her forehead between his shoulder blades, feeling his warm hands, stroking hers so gently she wants to cry.
He's not going to let her regret it. And she would do everything to make the same for him.
- If we wouldn't go to sleep in five minutes, I would fall asleep here, and than, - he stresses it, locking his fingers with hers, - You are totally going to regret it.
- You, my teenage crush, just had me against the wall in my fluffy slippers, I'm not going to regret anything at this point, - Dara hears him laughing and she shakes her head, squeezing his fingers stronger, - Let's go.
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