#CAN SOMEONE PLEASE UNDERSTAND MY FUCKING VISION
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you know that post that's like. some guy on grindr messaging someone "I don't want sex I just need a screwdriver and you're the closest one. do you have any" and the other guy's like "yeah sure" ? he xuan and yin yu
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Started thinking about the Amanda Waller + Ben Turner relationship again.... fuck, I'm gonna need a minute
#I JUST- SHDIAUDJSHDSHEYEYRYRYRY guys. guys#i know none of you see my vision and thats okay. i will make you see my vision. i will force you to see my vision. i will-#like jesus fucking christ oh my god. its so interesting and gives me so many emotions and just!!!#i know im not making sense bc none of my moots are sui sq fans and also like half of the content fucking me up specifically here is in my#head because i cant stop thinking about my absolute power fix it au but like!!!!!!!#also the fact i have a fix it for a comic that isnt out yet is so funny to me. its literally fucking real though. god knows we need it#may my own content carry me through the dark times (extreme villain waller arc)#anyways this fucks me up so bad you dont even know. someday ill actually explain it#dc hire me to write a suicide squad ongoing PLEASE. i could do it so good it would be so fucking good dc PLEASE 😭😭😭😭😭😭#also like this isnt me shipping them btw. like 110% not that. just to clarify.#i wouldnt even call it a friendship bc like. theyre not friends really. he has the most equal dynamic with her i would say but it still isnt#equal. shes v much his boss even though they have an understanding and respect there#like she believes and trusts in him much more than anybody really even himself. like she sees the good man and the leader even when he#doesnt. but she isnt nice about it. and there is a lot of conflict between them when there needs to be#like as much as ben is “wallers man”--the team leader she wanted from the beginning before rick flagg pushed his way in#ben i would say is still a very moral person even when lost and unsure of himself and his goodness (which is like one of his main things)#like i feel like while amanda can lean very into a “the ends justify the means” mindset in her worse moments and do bad things to get#herself out of a corner ben has like a deep and meaningful understanding of how the choices of your methods and how you act can weigh on you#like even though he was brainwashed and whatnot (thats still the story right? i cant remember) he holds a lot of guilt and baggage over his#actions and i think is able to temper amanda's worse tendencies in terms of that by calling her out when he recognizes that behavior#idk. i just really think that amanda waller and the suicide squad as a whole has lost its way without a more moral authority presence there.#like someone who can call her out and keep them more on track. which i really thing ben is and could be#i just very much am interested in their dynamic and how that would look like as equals and how i think they could help each other.#which ofc is what my wip is about and revolves around#blah#sui sq
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please be real | p.js
ex!jay x fem!reader
warnings: angst, heartache, smut (mdni), fingering, unprotected sex, cream pie, teasing, pet names (princess, baby), crying, mentions of alcohol, drunk jay, pure heartbreak in the beginning, not proofread, anything else lmk
synopsis: after a six-year relationship, you and jongseong part ways due to different needs for the future. when jongseong's first birthday post-breakup arrives, his struggle with your absence reaches a breaking point, prompting a late-night call from his friend that consequently reignites emotions and unresolved feelings.
wc: 9.4k
a/n: hi! it's me and it's jay's birthday so i wrote him a little something something. i didn't initially intend to rip my heart out as i wrote this yet here i am. this was oddly a healing one to write but i must warn you it does mention the reader not wanting to have children so if that doesn't appeal to you then this probs isn't the fic for you! as always, like, comments, feedback, etc. is all appreciated! ilysm and happy bday jay <3
A sharp, jarring noise pierces your ears, the peaceful sleep you were in rudely disrupted. You groan out loud, covering your face with your covers but it does nothing to stop the ringing from your phone, it doesn’t even dull it a little, the little black device only echoing around the room louder.
Disoriented and groggy, you fumble for your phone on the bedside table, clumsily searching for it in the darkness. It isn’t your alarm, the usual peaceful tones of the birds chirping would be a welcomed sound, one that eases you into the day; no this was a phone call.
Finally grasping your phone, your eyes fight themselves open as you blink away any remnants of sleep, trying to find any sort of centre from your dizzy awakening. You look at the name on your phone but your vision is so blurred you can’t make it out but answer it anyway, knowing that whoever is phoning at this ungodly hour is clearly in need of your help.
“Hello?” you ask quietly, as if you don’t want to disturb the quiet of the night, unlike the person on the other end of the call.
“Uh, Y/N? It’s Jake.” His soft Australian accent drifts from your phone speaker into your ears. He sounds unsure whether he is supposed to be making the call, which to be fair, you understand because you haven’t heard from him in months, not after…
Letting out a sigh, you rub your forehead with the base of your palm tiredly, “Jake, why the fuck are you calling me at…” you pull the phone away, inspecting the time now that you’re more alert, “3.36am?” you ask with a hint of disdain. Normally, you would welcome the boy’s surprise call, after all, you did miss him. But considering he woke you up from a good dream involving you, Jeongin from Stray Kids, and a happily ever after; he wasn’t exactly your favourite person right now.
You can faintly hear some music in the background as he stays silent and you swear to yourself if this is to give him a ride home from a concert turned party, you’ll have his head.
“Listen, I hate to ask you this but can you come to Haven?”
“The nightclub? Why?” Your earlier suspicions are proving to be right, he does want a lift home. That would be an acceptable request if you guys were actively talking every day and the best of buddies but he isn’t even your friend, not really.
You can hear him shuffling around on the other end of the line, his voice can be heard trying to calm someone down but his words are obscured as if the phone is wrested away from his mouth, leaving only disjointed fragments of speech drifting through the receiver.
This sounds like more than just a simple ride home and it causes you to snap to attention, your senses heightened with concern.
Jake finally brings his attention back to you, letting out a sigh of discontentment, “It’s Jay, he’s a mess and he’s calling out for you.”
Jay. Park Jongseong.
It’s been so long since anyone has dared to mention his name to you that it almost sounds like a foreign word.
Seven months ago, you and Jongseong had decided to call off your 6-year relationship, both of you reaching the understanding that it was for the best considering your battling differences and needs within the relationship.
It wasn’t easy, the furthest thing from it actually. You and him had been inseparable since high school and once you both got together in year 12, it was always you and him against the world. He was the love of your life, that once in a lifetime kind of love that only happens in fairytales. Your souls were both painted from the same brush stroke.
But he wanted a peaceful, routine life - a classic white picket fence dream. Evenings would be spent with friends, savouring white wine and casual conversations over dinner. His heart was set on imagining the echoes of your future children's laughter filling your home, family trips to the seaside, and comforting them with kisses and band-aids when they got hurt.
And you craved spontaneity, to embrace life with vigour, travelling the world together was your dream, free from the responsibilities of parenting, cherishing moments just for yourselves. You longed for random midnight trips to Tesco for birthday cake simply because you could. All you wished for was to be with him, just the two of you.
Suddenly, your brain clicks into an important detail and you hurriedly check the calendar on your phone and the date makes you slump in your bed.
Today is Jongseong’s birthday, well technically not anymore given the time, but that means he has lived his first birthday without you by his side in so long. You would always celebrate his big day by doing something from his handwritten bucket list he has had since he was a child. Over the years he has added more to the list, each birthday scoring one out to add another.
The list wasn't extravagant; it was filled with simple yet heartfelt desires. You bought him a bundle of guitar lessons and a Taylor 114e electric guitar to fulfil his wish of learning to play. When you noticed the Download Festival marked with gold stars on his list, you surprised him with tickets for the year Metallica was headlining. And when he expressed a desire to cook a meal from scratch for his mum, you gifted him a kitchen knife engraved with his name and took the time to teach him how to prepare her favourite dish.
His birthdays were the most precious when you were in them, and you weren’t there with him.
“Y/N?” Jake’s sweet voice draws you back to his attention and out of the memory lane swirl your brain has put you in. He knows this is a tough call for you to take considering you and Jongseong said to cut ties completely; it’s better to act like you both didn’t exist than keep a thread tethered to one another that would only hurt you more.
As Jake and Sunghoon whisked Jay away for his birthday celebration, their intention was simple: to help him let loose and have a good time. Jay had been buried in overtime work lately, leaving little room for socialising. Since the breakup, the idea of going out without you - dancing together, stealing kisses in the taxi ride home - seemed unappealing.
Waking up that morning, Jay realised it marked the first birthday in six years without ticking something off his bucket list. The familiar, worn paper lay dormant on his desk, a stark reminder of your absence. He had no desire to celebrate today without you by his side. If he could fast-forward through the day to escape the weight of his birthday, he would eagerly do so.
Yet, with two very persuading friends and a whole lot of whiskey later, here he was, curled up outside Haven, yearning out for you.
“Y/N please, at least come and convince him to get up and come home with us,” Jake pleads. You can hear the cries of your ex-lover more clearly now as Jake kneels beside his friend, checking in on him.
With a resigned sigh, you nod, “Okay. Keep him warm, I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”
Hanging up the phone, you quickly put a brush through your hair and change into a baggy top, one you bought for Jongseong before breaking up, and a pair of grey sweatpants. This is a bad idea, you know it is, but you also can’t leave him to wallow in the middle of the street. You don’t think you could live with yourself if you didn’t help and Jake wouldn’t call unless it was something he couldn’t handle.
You don’t want to see the state Jongseong is in, his wailing cries that you could slightly hear over the phone already made your heart clench in hurt.
As you drive to Haven, your heart races in anticipation with each mile that passes. Is your heart ready to face him after all these months? Staring into the love of your life’s eyes once again might break you even more. You’ve done a good job in keeping yourself together, at putting on a facade that everything is okay, when deep down you know that if one person asked you about Jongseong you would crumble and fall apart.
He wasn’t the only one throwing himself into work to forget. You’ve worked hours and hours trying to keep your mind off the heartbreak, you thought that if you just focused and kept your head down, the phrase time heals all wounds would kick in and you’d be free of the torment of losing your first love. But it hasn’t worked out that way, you know that now as you speed down the empty roads to console the one person you are trying to forget.
As you reach Haven, you can vaguely see three boys under the illuminating sign, almost as if shining a spotlight on them to add to the spectacle that Jongseong is making. Onlookers are watching as your ex-boyfriend cries on the pavement, wishing you would come home.
With a quick exhale, you step out of the car before doubts can creep in, determined to be there for him. Jake and Sunghoon's voices float to you, attempting to soothe him and inject some sense into the moment. Bracing yourself, you approach, ready to offer whatever comfort you can, despite the storm of emotions swirling within you.
Sinking onto the balls of your feet, you lower yourself to Jongseong's level, meeting his strained figure. Instantly, the sight of his distress instantly shatters your heart into a million pieces.
An abundance of tears cascades down Jongseong's reddened face, obscuring his features like a relentless waterfall. His clenched jaw and the prominent vein on his forehead portray the intensity of his distress as he struggles to draw each laboured breath. Curled into himself, his body seems to contort with the weight of physical agony, mirroring the emotional pain that ripples through his trembling form. He’s been keeping this in for so long that his body doesn’t know how to cope with it.
Reaching out to grab his clenched fist, you shuffle forward, “Jjongie? It’s me, baby, look at me,” you say calmly, trying to reassure him with your soft voice.
As your fingers gently encircle his clenched fist, Jongseong's body tenses at the touch. Slowly, he turns his gaze towards you, his eyes bloodshot and filled with an overwhelming mixture of sorrow and longing. For a moment, there's a flicker of recognition in his eyes before they cloud over again with anguish.
He doesn’t believe you’re actually here, considering the long nights where he has conjured up the idea of you, clinging to his imagination on the lonely nights he wishes for your touch. But as you squeeze his hand, he realises this isn’t a dream-induced sighting, you’re really here in front of him.
"Y/N..." he murmurs, his voice choked with emotion. Tears stream down his face in torrents, some landing on your hand that holds his. His cries reverberate through the air, each wail a sharp stab to your chest.
Cupping his cheek, you settle yourself between his legs, ignoring the discomfort of the rocks beneath your knees, your focus solely on him. With a sad smile, you attempt to mask your own anguish, your touch a gentle reassurance amidst his storm of emotions.
"Hey, hey, enough of that now," you hush him softly, your voice a soothing melody in the tumultuous night. Using your thumb, you tenderly wipe away his tears, though they continue to flow unabated.
He leans into your touch, “I miss you so much, Y/N, please. Please,” he pleads as you feel his warm breath against your skin as he nuzzles into your palm, seeking solace in the familiar sensation he's been yearning for.
It’s hurting you just seeing him like this, the man you once knew to be strong-willed and resilient, keeping his emotions under control unless he’s sharing sweet vulnerable moments with you under the covers, is now a shell of himself, stripped bare by the weight of grief.
Turning your face to look at Jake, you offer him a small smile, “I’ll take him home.”
“You sure?” Jake asks, knowing that it’s a dangerous game for you both if you do.
“Yeah, I don’t think he’s going to move unless I do,” you chuckle sympathetically but there’s a bubble in your throat as Jongseong’s whimpers flow into your ear from beside you.
Nodding, Jake gestures to Sunghoon, silently enlisting his help in the task of ferrying the drunk man to your car. The weight of Jongseong's limp form proves cumbersome as you all struggle to navigate his dead weight, his limbs hanging heavily without offering any assistance.
"Let's get you home," you murmur softly, your hands pressing gently against Jongseong's chest to steady him, aided by his friends who lift him onto their shoulders.
His eyes lock onto yours, an intensity burning within them. "Please be real," he whispers, his voice trembling with desperation. Despite feeling your touch and catching hints of your scent, doubt gnaws at him. If this is merely a figment of his imagination, he knows he'll never forgive himself. You're so close, so tangible - it has to be you.
With much struggle, the three of you get him to your car, putting him gently in the backseat so he can lie down, but he wraps his arms around your waist as his legs stay situated outside of the vehicle, holding you close to him.
"Come on, Jjongie, lie down for a minute," you coax gently, guiding him to stretch out along the seats. But he remains unmoving, clutching onto you as if fearing you'll slip away if he lets go. With a soft sigh, you stroke the back of his head, your hands moving in a soothing rhythm. "I promise, I am not going anywhere," you whisper, your words a tender vow to him.
Yet, your attempts to reassure him seem to go unheard. His face burrows deeper into your stomach, his words muffled by the fabric of your t-shirt and the weight of his tears.
You exchange a worried glance with Jake and Sunghoon, “How much did he have to drink?” you ask, scared of the answer they will give. Your ex-boyfriend has always been so good at holding his liquor that it must have been a hefty amount he consumed.
“Like two weeks' wage worth,” Sunghoon winces, his neck tightening as he looks at his best friend.
"Oh, baby..." you sigh softly, feeling a wave of empathy wash over you. Returning your attention to Jongseong, you press a tender kiss to the crown of his head, hoping to offer some comfort amidst his distress. His response is to cling to you even tighter, his sobs echoing against your chest as he seeks solace in your embrace.
You need to get him home, he’s a mess and the longer he stays like this, the more his body is going to wear out.
With a gentle hand, you stroke his hair, your touch a soothing caress against his trembling form. Despite the chaos swirling around you, you find a semblance of peace in this intimate moment, anchored by the bond that still lingers between you.
"I've got you, Jjongie," you whisper softly, drawing back as he eases up his grip on you. His friends go to help you but you halt them with a firm gesture, "You guys can go, I've got it from here."
Sunghoon shakes his head, concern etched on his face. "He's too heavy, Y/N. You won't be able to manage him into the flat without us," he protests.
But you stand your ground. This is your and Jongseong's mess, and you can’t let others help you clean it up, "It's okay. You guys have done your shift for tonight. Go home," you insist, your voice resolute.
Reluctantly, Sunghoon and Jake nod and bid you goodnight before going their separate ways home, leaving you alone with Jongseong and the weight of your shared history.
Taking a deep breath, you hoist him in, his body listening to you a little more now that you’ve reassured him you aren’t leaving him. He sprawls over the backseats and lays still, the alcohol consuming him into some form of comatose now that he has relaxed slightly.
You slide into the driver's seat, the engine humming to life beneath you. Glancing at Jongseong's slumbering form in the rearview mirror, you steel yourself for the journey ahead.
_____
Arriving at his house makes you more nervous than before. This wasn’t just his flat, it used to be your shared home, the place you lived for 2 and half years and made countless memories in.
You were the one to move out and find your own place, thinking it was best since your work was further away and you could find an apartment closer to it. But the truth is, you just couldn’t face being reminded of him in each room and in the pieces of furnishings.
It was selfish of you to leave him with the remnants of your relationship surrounding him, all you thought about was you and your needs, neglecting to think about how he might feel being surrounded by nothing but memories.
Lugging him into the flat, his legs are working in tandem with you now unlike before but he still isn’t proving to be the easiest person to carry. The last time you had to hold his weight like this was when he got drunk at your prom after taking sneaky shots in the hotel garden with his friends. It was funny but you blame him for some of your back pain that you’ve endured in your early twenties.
As you push open the door and step into the living room, a wave of nostalgia washes over you like a tsunami. Though only seven months have passed, it feels like a lifetime since you last stood in this space with him by your side. Everything remains unchanged, frozen in time since the day you left. The same couch sits in its familiar spot, adorned with throw pillows and blankets you bought for last season. Photographs of you both, captured during Christmases and holidays, adorn the walls, each one a snapshot of happier times. Even the vase that his mum had gotten you both for your housewarming gift, one that you loved and he hated, remains in its pride of place on the mantlepiece.
You push your thoughts down and make your way to your once-shared bedroom, walking through the memories and heaving your ex-boyfriend along slowly. His nose nudges into your hair, sweeping in your scent as he loses himself in the feeling of you.
As you reach the familiar threshold, you can't help but feel a pang of bittersweet longing. This room, once a sanctuary where you both shared your laughter and bodies, now serves as a poignant reminder of the love you've lost.
Gently, you ease Jongseong onto the bed, sitting him up, “I’m going to get you some clean boxers okay?” you ask him but he’s not here, not really, so you make your way to the drawers on the other side of the room.
Walking over, you spot a familiar t-shirt lying crumpled on your old side of the bed. You make a b-line to investigate it and as you pick up the crumpled t-shirt, a flood of memories washes over you, transporting you back to simpler times. Your fingers trace the familiar fabric, still faintly carrying the scent of you, now mingled with his cologne. You piece it all together pretty quickly, the way it still smells faintly of you but is not starting to be overpowered by his cologne. He hugs it at night to find peace of mind.
“Oh, Jjongie,” you sigh, heart reaching out to him. You’re no better, you have one of his hoodies that you snuck into your luggage as you packed and wear it when you’re at home. Just like your t-shirt, his hoodie is starting to lose its scent from the amount of times you’ve hugged yourself to sleep in it.
Jongseong has always been reserved, his emotions carefully guarded behind a facade of reason and rationale. To see him like this, vulnerable and raw, strikes a chord deep within you. If he had always worn his heart on his sleeve, perhaps it would be easier to understand. But the complexity of his emotions only serves to deepen the ache in your chest.
You place the t-shirt back on the pillow before opening the dresser drawer and retrieve a clean pair of boxers, his favourite ones with the faded Hellow Kitty print that you've always teased him about.
Gently, you begin to undress him while he rambles incoherent nonsense that you can’t understand between the mix of tears and drunk slurring. The top half is easy but the bottom half proves difficult as he only looks up at you, whispering pleas as he stares at you, keeping his bum firmly sat on the edge of the bed.
As you finally manage to remove Jongseong's jeans and boxers, leaving him naked, a new layer of vulnerability settles over the room. He sits before you bathed in the soft glow of the hallway light, his silhouette outlined in the darkness.
His beauty, illuminated by the faint light, is both captivating and heartbreaking. The familiarity of his form, once etched in your memory, now lays before you in the flesh, a tangible reminder of the love you still harbour for him. How could you not still love him? He was perfect in every way possible.
"Stay with me," he whispers, his voice a gentle plea as his hands begin to roam your sides, tracing the contours of your body beneath your shirt. Each touch ignites a flurry of sensations within you, sending butterflies fluttering in your stomach.
He pulls you onto his lap, your sweatpants becoming the barrier between his cock and your pussy. Yet, none of you are really thinking about that right now, all you both want is to hold one another again.
“Jongseong, we broke up, and for good reason,” you rationalise with not only him but yourself as you find yourself sinking into his touch as his hands roam your back.
Nuzzling his nose against yours, he begins to cry softly again, his face rubbing itself against yours as his tears transfer from his cheeks to yours, “Please, baby, don’t leave me,” he mumbles as his lips ghost over yours.
He doesn’t just mean tonight, he means forever. A tear from your eye cascades down your face, getting lost in the mixture of his, your empathy for him overwhelming you because you feel the same way he does. You need him in every way, you need to be close to him, to feel his heart beating in synch with yours once again.
But you know better than this. You’re both just prolonging heartache if you succumb to being with him again. You can’t give each other what you need.
“Baby, don’t do this,” you beg him, knowing that he has the power to pull you back into his life with the click of his fingers, that resolve you have worked so hard to build up now hangs in the balance, “Let me get you changed and then into bed, yeah?”
Reasoning with him is a lost cause, his arms now hugging you tightly like before as he ignores your suggestion. The last thing he wants is to put on those boxers because he knows when he does that you’ll leave.
"Please, Princess," his voice is raw with emotion, his desperation palpable in the air between you. And as you look into his eyes, you see the depth of his longing mirrored in your own.
His plea hangs in the air, a heavy weight pressing down on your already burdened heart. You feel torn between the overwhelming desire to give in to his request and the harsh reality of the situation.
With a deep breath, you summon the strength to gently extricate yourself from his embrace, feeling the weight of his disappointment lingering in the air. His hurt expression tugs at your heartstrings, but you shake your head firmly, "Just tonight, okay?" you assure him, your voice soft but resolute.
Curse you and your heart that caves into his pleas so easily.
You disregard getting him dressed and instead, remove your sweatpants and replace them with those very boxers you planned to adorn him with and swap out your t-shirt for the one on your old pillow. Jongseong clumsily climbs into his covers, getting comfortable and finding some happiness in the fact that you’ll be in his arms at least for a little while.
Once you climb into your side of the bed, he instinctively hugs you from behind, the comfort of your body pressed against his. He spoons you, tucking his face in your neck as he exhales in contentment. This is all he has been craving since that night you left and he couldn’t be happier. All the turmoil and anguish from earlier slowly depletes as he finds himself sinking into a much-needed sleep.
You can’t deny you feel the same, his arms wrapped around you feel like home, like you’ve been on a seven-month business trip and you’re now finally back where you belong. You sink into him further, relishing his skin against yours.
“Happy birthday, Jjongie,” you whisper, bringing his hand up to kiss it before intertwining your fingers with his.
_____
Waking up, Jongseong feels like his whole body has crashed into a brick wall. His bones ache and his head feels tight, but there is a weight that feels so familiar yet foreign, his legs tangled around something and his arms holding it close. This feels different from the t-shirt of yours he clings to every night, this has more substance.
Please don’t be some random girl he thinks to himself, scared to open his eyes.
Even if he did want to open them he couldn’t because they are being held together so tight by something. Was he crying last night? Actually, what even happened last night?
He replays the fragments of the evening in his mind, a few scattered images begin to surface - Jake and Sunghoon dragging him to Haven, the raucous atmosphere of the bar, and the ill-advised decision to ride the mechanical bull. And then nothing.
As he tries to recounter the night, you see him attempt to pry his eyes open and decide to help him out. Swiping your thumb over his eyes, you wipe away the mix of his dried-in tears and sleep. He looks so confused when you touch him and his body tenses.
Either he is having a severe case of hallucinations to the point where he is starting to physically feel you or the girl that he took home last night resembles your touch. God, how he hoped it was the first one.
Opening his eyes with your help, he blinks away the blur and sets his eyes on your face, his expression reading one of relief that quickly turns into astonishment.
“Y/N? Baby?” he whispers, his hands instinctively reaching for your cheek, “Please be real.” The same words he pleaded out last night leave his lips again. Jongseong has spent so many nights dreaming of you, wishing in an alternative universe that he can hold you again, so much so that this doesn’t feel real.
You don’t know what to say but obviously, you have to say something. It was one thing to confront drunk Jongseong who didn’t have a wit about him but now it feels like there’s a boulder on your chest as you try to conjure up the courage to speak to a sober, semi-alert Jongseong.
All you can do is nod, no words escaping your dried lips. You look down to see you and his limbs mangled together just like they used to be, the feeling of his body pressed so tightly against yours almost feels like heaven.
He takes in the sight of you, the lines of disbelief on his features soften, replaced by a glimmer of hope. Slowly, almost tentatively, he reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your cheek as if to confirm your presence.
The touch sends a jolt of electricity coursing through you, he’s caressing your cheek so tenderly it reminds you of the time you had the shift from hell and Jongseong held you the whole night, whispering sweet words into your ear and stroking your tears away, just like this.
Except there are no tears this time, you’re all cried out - months of mourning the loss of your relationship will do that to you.
As Jongseong's eyes meet yours, a flicker of recognition passes through them, followed by a wave of embarrassment. His voice is soft as he speaks, a hint of uncertainty lacing his words, "What are you doing here?" he asks, his tone laden with confusion.
"You got pretty drunk last night," understatement "And Jake asked me to come pick you up."
You can feel the tension in the air as Jongseong processes your words, his expression a mixture of shame and regret, "Sorry, I don't usually drink that much," he murmurs, his voice tinged with remorse.
The explanation stings, not because Jongseong has been drinking more, but because of the distance it creates between you. It's as if he's explaining himself to a stranger, rather than to the person who once knew him better than anyone else. The past six years you’ve known how he knows his limit and that he doesn’t tend to breach it, not subconsciously.
All you do is nod, accepting his explanation as you slowly start to detangle yourself from him, “I better get going.”
“Y/N, please let's talk,” he pleads as his voice wavers, his grip tightening around your waist, and his desperation palpable as he pleads for your attention. But you've made up your mind, and no amount of persuasion can sway you from the path you've chosen.
"Jongseong, please, let's not do this," you implore, your voice tinged with a mixture of sorrow and resolve, "We're only going to hurt ourselves again."
You both know the reasons behind your breakup are deeply rooted, immutable truths that cannot be changed. It's not a matter of cheating or petty disagreements—this is about fundamental differences in desires and aspirations for the future.
But Jongseong refuses to accept defeat, his forehead coming to rest against yours as he breathes his love out, "Princess, we can work it out, I know we can," he insists, his words heavy with sincerity.
You steel yourself against the onslaught of his love, knowing that to give in would only prolong the inevitable pain, "We want different things, Jjongie," you remind him gently, your voice tinged with regret.
“I can do without them. It’s you I can’t live without…I can’t breathe without you here by my side.” His words are sincere and you know it, but you can’t accept it. When you both discussed your future, he looked so excited at the prospect of kids that your heart broke instantly. You knew right away that you couldn’t give him what he wanted most.
Closing your eyes and sucking in the bottom of your cheeks, you steady yourself to have this conversation yet again, “You can’t give up the idea of having kids. Having the life you want is much more important than me. You can find someone who can give you that.”
It hurts to say but you need to rip the bandaid off quickly.
“You think I want that life with anyone but you?” His voice raises lightly, hinting at the anger rising into his chest. He needs you to listen to him, to understand him, “Y/N, if it’s not with you then I don’t want that life.”
Shaking your head determinedly, you sit up, “But I can’t give you that life, it’s not what I want.” You feel like you’re reliving the argument that ended it all those months ago.
“That’s okay.”
“No, It’s not,” It’s your turn to get angry, your eyebrows lacing together as you try to read him. How can he say all of this so easily? Like he wasn’t trying to promise you that he would change his entire life plan just to be with you. Is it romantic? Sure, but it’s also fucking stupid. No one should change just to keep someone they love because if they were meant to be, then their values would align…right?
"It's not that simple, Jongseong," you argue through the silence, your voice tinged with frustration, "You can't just sweep aside your dreams for the sake of our relationship. What about what you want? What about your own happiness?"
Jongseong sits up, the covers hiding his naked lower half; he hadn’t realised he was naked and it only adds a new layer to his vulnerability. He is laying himself bare to you.
But Jongseong's gaze remains unwavering, his determination evident in the set of his jaw, "Since we broke up, I've realised that you are the life I want," he declares, his words carrying the weight of his conviction, "Whatever that looks like for you, I want it."
You feel his words like a pickaxe, slowly breaking away at the wall you’ve spent months building around your heart and reason. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions sweeps over you. On one hand, his declaration of love sparks a glimmer of hope amidst the ruins of your fractured relationship. Yet, on the other hand, doubt claws at your insides, gnawing away at any semblance of certainty, the pure love that you have for him only wishes to make sure he’s happy and gets everything he wants in life.
"Jongseong, I..." you start, your voice wavering as you grapple with the turmoil inside. How do you express the depth of your feelings?
Grabbing your face with his large hands, he kisses you, his soft lips now coating yours. You’ve missed him so much that you become overwhelmed by his actions, a soft tear leaking from your ducts.
So much for being all cried out, you think to yourself.
"It's you, Y/N, I only need you," Jongseong whispers against your lips, his urgency evident as he seeks solace in the warmth of your embrace, stealing kisses with a hunger born from longing.
In spite of yourself, you find your lips responding to his touch, drawn in by the familiar sensation of his mouth against yours. Your arms instinctively wrap around him, fingers grazing lightly over the muscles of his back as you hold him close; your brain is telling you to push him away but your heart is pulling him tighter to you.
"It's not fair to you, Jjongie," you murmur, the words weighted with a sense of guilt and remorse.
"I'd rather be with you happily than with kids and someone else miserably," Jongseong confesses, his words carrying the weight of his heart's deepest desires.
Jongseong wishes you could see it from his point of view; of course, he has wanted kids and a comfortable life for so long but the idea of achieving that when you are not his wife seems fucking ridiculous. There is no one in this world he wants to be with other than you and if that means he has to be an uncle rather than a dad, so be it.
You are all he has ever wanted. To grow old with you, to experience each of your accomplishments together and have you close to him. He wants to protect you and look after you the way he knows he should and that is his new life goal. This isn’t a decision he has made lightly but a decision he wanted to make.
His hands glide down your sides, trailing over your thighs as his kisses continue, each touch a manifestation of the craving that has consumed him. His need for you is overwhelming, every fibre of his being yearning for you in every possible way. Another moment without you feels unbearable, as if he might die.
You surrender to his touch, sinking back onto the bed as he hovers above you, his grip on your thighs firm yet tender. The intensity of his desire leaves marks, but in this moment, you welcome anything he offers.
It's astonishing how the feel of his lips on yours dismantles your resolve, scattering your apprehensions like leaves in the wind.
Slowly, he removes from you the t-shirt that has absorbed his tears on countless nights and the boxers you borrowed from him, leaving you exposed beneath him. As he looks upon your naked figure, his eyes drink in every curve and contour, offering silent gratitude to the heavens for letting him have you like this. You are everything he wants and more.
“You’re so fucking beautiful, Y/N,” he whispers into your mouth as he presses his body hard against yours, his member rubbing itself against your folds.
The feeling of him rubbing against you is enough to elicit a moan. No amount of toys was enough to satisfy you, not the way Jongseong could. Over the years you learned about one another’s bodies so intimately that no one could ever know you the way he does, not even yourself.
You couldn’t bear the thought of sleeping with someone else, even if you and Jongseong had broken up, your heart couldn’t do it. You never even considered a one night stand because deep down you knew that your body belonged to Jongseong and no one else.
He moves his hips, slowly rubbing himself against you, the bell of his cock grazing your clit teasingly. It feels like a dream for him to touch you this way again, and the fact that you were coating his cock with your wetness was enough to tell him that you need this too.
Kissing you desperately, his tongue darts into your mouth and swirls with yours as he seeks to taste you, his buds dancing along with yours. He moans into your mouth and acts as an echo of his love for you.
“I missed you so much,” he whispers as his hips continue to move slowly, teasing your hole with his tip each time he draws back. It’s becoming increasingly obvious how much it’s starting to irritate you, your need to have him inside you is evident in your whines of frustration.
"I missed you too, baby. More than anything," you confess, your hand finding his cock as you press against him, seeking to create greater friction between you. With each movement, the pressure builds, sending waves of pleasure coursing through both of you.
With each synchronised movement, the tension between you mounts, the desire for one another lingering in the warm air. His hips continue their slow, teasing rhythm, each brush against your core sending sparks of want up your heat and into your chest.
Feeling the urgency building within you, you guide his cock with precision, pressing it against your eager entrance. A soft gasp escapes your lips as you feel the head of his length dip into you only slightly, the anticipation of being filled with him heightening your senses.
"Please," you whisper, your voice laden with need and longing, a plea for him to take you.
With a teasing grin, Jongseong relents to your plea, but not in the way you expected. Instead of thrusting into you the way you want him to, he trails his fingertips along the curves of your body, igniting a trail of fire in his wake. His touch is light and tantalising, tracing patterns across your skin as he savours every moment. He wants to take his time with you, no matter how much his dick longs to be surrounded by your walls.
You like to be teased even for a little bit, the payoff at the end always hits the right spot.
You squirm beneath his touch, aching for more, but he continues with deliberate slowness. His fingers dance over your heated flesh, exploring every inch of your body with an intimacy that leaves you breathless. Each caress sends shivers down your spine, building the anticipation to unbearable heights. God, you missed his hands all over you.
As his right hand dips lower, he begins tracing circles around your sensitive clit and you can't help but arch your back in pleasure, a soft moan escaping your lips. The sensation is electrifying, sending waves coursing through your body as he expertly teases you.
Feeling your body tremble with anticipation, his touch becomes more urgent as he presses his fingers against your throbbing clit h and with practised skill, he begins to move faster, applying just the right amount of pressure to have you writhing beneath him.
“You look so fucking perfect, all desperate and whiney like this, Princess,” he says as he leans down to kiss you, breathing in deeply through his nose as he tries to fill each of his senses with you. It wasn’t just enough to feel you, he wanted to taste you, to inhale your scent, to hear you cry out for him, to see you unravel beneath him.
Your breath catches in your throat as the intensity of his touch sends you spiralling towards the edge of bliss. Each stroke of his fingers drives you closer to the brink, your body humming with the need to let go.
But just as you feel yourself teetering on the edge, Jongseong suddenly slows his movements, drawing out the pleasure with agonising slowness. It's a torturous tease, the brief moments of intensity followed by long, drawn-out strokes that leave you gasping for more.
“Please, please, please, Jjongie,” you whimper in frustration, your body aching for release as Jongseong continues to play you like a symphony, alternating between fast and slow, building the tension to unbearable levels. Just when you think you can't take it anymore, he finally gives in, his fingers dipping into your heat and thrusting into you at a rough pace, your pussy soaking his digits as he coaxes out your orgasm.
“You’re clamping down on my fingers so hard, Baby, you gonna cum?” he asks arrogantly, knowing that with each curl of his finger, he is watching your body lose control and surrender to him.
Nodding quickly, you pull him down for a long, searing kiss as his thumb joins the party and flicks your clit rapidly, “Oh my god,” you moan out into his mouth through bated breaths, “I’m gonna cum, Jongseong, please can I cum?”
“You never have to ask baby,” he moves his mouth to your ear and lightly nibbles your lobe, “Cum for me, Princess,” he gently commands.
Jongseong continues to work his magic, his fingers moving with expert precision as he guides you through the throes of ecstasy. Your vision blurs and every nerve in your body hums with pleasure as you reach the pinnacle of bliss.
With a final, desperate cry, you let go, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave. You arch your back and cry out his name as pleasure consumes you, your body trembling with the intensity of it all.
His fingers remain still inside you, but his thumb maintains its relentless pace, each swipe sending jolts of pleasure coursing through your body. Your hips instinctively twitch in response, your nub throbbing with sensitivity and yearning for a respite. Yet, Jongseong shows no signs of letting up, his determined flicking only intensifying.
"You like that, baby?" Jongseong's voice is hoarse with desire as he intently watches your reactions. His eyes are dark with need as he continues to work you with wild desire.
Your senses are overwhelmed by sensations pouring through you, so you can only respond with a gasping nod. Every single nerve in your body is buzzing with ecstasy, and all you can think of is the delicious agony of his thumb against your delicate clit.
"Tell me what you want, Princess," he asks, his voice a seductive whisper in your ear, "Do you want more?"
You can only make a frantic plea, your words barely comprehensible in the middle of intense pleasure. "Yes, please, Jongseong... More..."
Jongseong's lips curl into a wicked grin as he hears your plea, his confidence growing with each breathless gasp that escapes your lips. With a teasing twinkle in his eye, he moves his fingers again, pressing them against your contracting walls, his hot breath ghosting over your ear as he speaks.
"What do you want, Y/N?" he whispers, his voice dripping with anticipation, "Tell me, and I'll give it to you."
Your mind is a haze of desire, but amidst the fog, one thought stands out clear and demanding. You need him inside you, filling you completely with his presence. With trembling hands, you reach for him, your fingers curling around his cock, guiding him to where you need him most, pushing his hand out of the way.
"I want you," you whisper, your voice trembling with need. "I want all of you, Jongseong." When you utter the words, there’s a deeper meaning to them, a meaning that Jongseong is clinging to.
The way your fingers wrap around his rock-hard member elicits a hiss from him, your touch mixed with your words only fuels him to give you everything you need.
Jongseong lets out a guttural groan, entirely surrendering to your touch and words. His eyes darken with want as he watches you take control, and his breath quickens with anticipation as you guide him inside you. His breath coming in ragged gasps, he looks into your eyes with a mixture of desire and adoration, "God, Y/N," he murmurs, his voice rough with need, “You feel so fucking incredible. I’ve missed how you just suck me in like this.”
You look down and watch as his entire length gets lost in your heat, his cock’s head hitting deep within you. You’ve missed how he fills you up so much but you hadn’t realised just how badly until right now as he shallowly thrusts into you.
You respond with a low moan of pleasure, your nails digging into his skin as you pull him closer, urging him to go deeper. "Yes, Jongseong," you whisper, your voice laced with longing, "just like that. I need this so much, I need you."
With each thrust, he grunts in response, his movements becoming more desperate as he seeks to satisfy your every desire, "I'm yours, Y/N," he declares, his voice filled with raw emotion, "completely and utterly yours."
As he lifts your legs and closes them, gently draping them over his left shoulder, your warmth envelops his shaft, drawing him in closer. Jongseong relishes the sensation of your tightness, revelling in the snug embrace of your canal around him. And you too find delight in the pressure of his girth, relishing the way he stretches you further with every powerful thrust.
Each movement of his hips is deliberate, each one designed to bring you both closer to the edge of ecstasy. As his hands stroke your legs tenderly, contrasting with the intensity of his thrusts, you find yourself lost in the intoxicating rhythm of your bodies moving as one.
His jerks grow more intense, the pace quickening as he drives deeper into you, each stroke bringing you closer to the edge, "You feel so good," he groans, his voice filled with unrestrained passion, "so fucking perfect for me, Princess."
In response, you curve your back and meet his thrusts with equal conviction, the heat between you building to an almost euphoric level. "Jongseong," you exclaim, your voice a symphony of fulfilment, "don't stop, please don't stop."
Jongseong intensifies his efforts with a wild growl, each movement driven by a burning need to push you to the edge of satisfaction and beyond. At this moment, there is only you and him, burned by the fires of passion.
With a swift motion, your lover bends you in half, positioning your legs by your head as he quickens his already rapid pace. Lost in a whirlwind of desire, your eyes roll back and your hands instinctively grip his shoulders, your chest heaving with each forceful thrust of his cock. Your nails dig into his skin, leaving marks on his shoulder blades as you cling to him, lost in the intensity of the moment.
Feeling the sting of your nails, he grits his teeth and strains his neck, the veins in his temples pulsating as he fights the overwhelming urge to release inside you right then and there.
“Fuck, claw my back, Baby,” he growls, his voice thick with desire, “make me yours again.” With determination, he continues to pound into you, each movement bringing you closer to your shared orgasm.
After hearing Jongseong’s go-ahead, you dig into his back, dragging your nails across his skin, leaving fiery red lines in their wake, just like he wants. It burns him in the most delectable way, making his cock throb inside of you.
Your breaths combine in the air, creating an ensemble of desire as you both reach the edge. The tension between you grows with each thrust, a crescendo of want reaching its peak.
As he slams into you furiously, his voice fills the room with urgency, "You gonna cum again, Princess? You want it?" His words are a mixture of want and domination, starting a fire inside you that threatens to consume everything in its path.
With a firm nod, you meet his gaze, your eyes brimming with want. "Yes, Jongseong, please," you beg, your voice a frantic appeal for release once again.
In response, he increases his efforts, his motions growing more frenzied as he propels you both to your orgasms. And then, with a final, strong thrust, you shatter, your body convulsing from the ferocity of your release. Jongseong follows closely behind, his own climax mirroring yours as he finds release within you, “Fuck!”
His body stills as he shoots his seed into you, the tremble of both your bodies vibrates the bed beneath you. Finding it hard to keep himself up, he falls onto you, moving his cock into you further, only drawing out a final moan from your lips.
After a couple of minutes, Jongseong rolls over, his chest heaving up and down rapidly. God, he missed the way you feel under him, he could go another ten rounds if you asked.
But that would mean you would stay, and is that even something you want? He doesn’t want to ask, your answer being the deciding factor of whether he goes on his life with misery or happiness.
He knows he can’t force you into this relationship but he hopes he has done enough to convince you that you are all he wants.
“Please be with me again, Y/N. I can’t live without you,” he whispers into the air, not daring to look at you.
You on the other hand only want to look at him, to see if you can really try this again, “Even if it means no kids? No playdates with other parents? No family trips to Jeju?”
“Even without all that.” He does look sincere, his eyes now burning into yours with a new lease of determination.
The truth is, you’ve missed him so much that it hurts. Behind the strong facade is just a girl who misses her lover. Being without him is like being in a fire with no escape, constantly fighting your way out of a blaze while your lungs collapse. He’s the clear path to fresh air you desperately need, there is no denying it. And clearly, he thinks the same about you.
Seeing him last night so fragile and broken engulfed you in the flames, burning you alive because you know that you feel every ounce of hurt that he is. It was a mirror to how you were feeling and you don’t think you knew how badly you needed him until that moment. You were trying to be so strong about it all, giving yourself only a short amount of time to grieve that as you looked at Jongseong last night, you know he has done the same.
You need one another to extinguish the fire.
“Jongseong, truly think about this, this isn’t me saying no to letting you go on a lads holiday, I’m denying you the opportunity to be a father,” you plead with him one last time, giving him an out to all of this as you lay it all on the table.
“Princess, I have had seven months to think about it. I am not compromising or altering my needs for you, this is a decision that I have made on my own. If I truly wanted the life I thought I did, I wouldn’t be begging you to be with me right now. I know this isn’t an easy choice but I have never been more sure about anything in my life.”
Jongseong kisses all over your face, each one a receipt of his sincerity.
His words strike straight into your heart. He’s serious. A part of you wants to still feel guilty like you’re forcing him into this but on the other hand, he’s right. You’ve given him a multitude of opportunities to leave and find a girl who will cater to him, but he hasn’t.
He doesn’t need to because all he needs is you and your love, to Jongseong, that is all he needs in his life.
“Okay, but if you ever change your min-”
He interjects with a kiss, one filled with so much happiness and love that it’s almost intoxicating; either that or all the booze in his system has transferred its way into your bloodstream.
You giggle as he rolls over on top of you again, peppering loud and wet kisses all over your face and neck akin to a dog licking you from utter joy. Your hands try to fight him off playfully, your laugh growing louder as he nuzzles into your neck.
“Oh, wait!” Your lover's sudden pause catches your attention, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he swiftly rolls off the bed and rushes over to the messy pile on the chair by his dresser.
Curious, you crane your neck to see what he's up to, watching as he retrieves something from the floor.
“What is it?” you inquire, intrigued by his enthusiasm.
Turning back to you, Jongseong holds up the familiar torn sheet of paper that you recognise instantly, his smile lighting up his face. He grabs a pen from the desk and returns to your side, handing you both items.
“Tick it off,” he urges, pointing to the bottom of the page where a new addition was made yesterday morning. Despite his internal conflict about the list, he couldn't bring himself to tear it up. If he never saw you again, this would be a precious memory to hold onto.
So he added a new aspiration at the bottom.
Taking the pen from his hand, you read it slowly, “Make Y/N mine again..”
You gaze up at him in awe, understanding the significance of this gesture and how much the list means to him, “You wished for this?” you ask, to which he simply nods at your question, “Then you need to tick it off.” You push the pen and paper back to him but he stops you.
“No, you made the wish come true, so you need to tick it off,” he replies, the corners of his lips upturning slightly.
So with the pen, you draw a line over the words, scoring it off once and for all as you beam proudly, happy that both of your souls are now joined together again. You pull him in for a long, deep kiss, the bucket list discarded as you lose yourselves in the moment once again.
#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen x reader#enhypen angst#jay smut#park jongseong smut#aj writes#jay x reader#park jongseong x reader
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I'll Hold Your Weight When You Can't
Premise: Brilliant sunshine!reader gets heat stroke on a case. Your best friend, Spencer Reid, is predictably worried about you. What he doesn't expect is to be forced to come to terms with his feelings for you.
Word count: approx. 3,200
TW: Brief mention of vomit and, perhaps, hospitals
(Y/N/N): Your nickname
Author's Note: Super excited to introduce brilliant sunshine!reader (aka, super smart sunshine!reader) onto my fanfic writing scene! Definitely willing to write more of her in the future if anyone is interested. Hope you enjoy!
“Does anybody have more water?”
“Where is the damn ambulance?”
Perhaps your job classically conditioned you to respond to Hotch’s “I’m seriously not fucking around” tone because your eyes crack open.
Someone put weights on your eyelids and cranked the sun to extra-bright. The harsh rays burned your retinas and washed everything in a white blur. Did someone set off a flash bang?
“(Y/N)? Can you hear me?” Miraculously, out of the screeching white, you made out JJ’s halo of blonde hair.
“JJ?” You groaned. Even though you could barely see, it felt like the whole world was spinning,
“Hotch, she’s coming around!” You recognized Morgan’s voice. “Welcome back to the world of the living, honey. We’re happy to see you.”
Your heart rate spiked. You never died. Did you die?
“Yes, we still need a medic!” Hotch barked.
You winced. “Wha?” Suddenly, your mouth couldn’t handle a one-syllable world. Even more alarming, your brain, the same brain that kept up with Emily Prentiss and Spencer Reid, couldn’t understand what the hell was going on.
“What I do?” You whined.
“He’s not yelling at you, honey,” JJ said like a kindergarten teacher. “You’re just a little out of it right now.”
“Is she conscious?” Another voice entered. Your head spun. “I brought more water.”
You moaned to suppress a gag. Your eyelids drooped, and you relished in the break from the light.
“Hey, smarty pants, stay with us.” Morgan pat your cheek. “Let Emily get some water in you.” You couldn’t force your eyes open more if you tried.
Your friend Emily. That’s who the voice belonged to.
Suddenly, JJ pulled your hair from your face, Morgan lifted your head, and Emily forced a water bottle to your lips simultaneously. The blinding glare seared your eyes and your head spun. You wanted to sob and maybe vomit.
Your chest hitched with a shallow inhale. “Stop.” You whined.
“(Y/N), it’s okay. Take a deep breath.” JJ said.
“No!” You exclaimed.
“Honey–” Morgan tried.
You thrashed against his hold, but your exhausted muscles couldn’t throw Morgan’s gentlest grip.
“Maybe we should let her go.” Emily said.
“She needs water.” JJ countered.
“She’s disoriented.” Hotch cut in. “Let her get her bearings first, but don’t let her close her eyes.”
Gingerly, Morgan lay your body back on the grass. Your head swam, and your vision rippled as if you could see the heat waves in the California air. You tried to take a deep breath but choked.
You sputtered. Every inhale led to a series of dry coughs. In your delirium, you thought of Spencer. Your Spencer. Where the hell was he? Did he not love you anymore?
Suddenly, Hotch loomed over you. His tall frame blocked out the brutality of the sun’s glare, which eased your headache and nausea but not your cough. His eyebrows were so deeply furrowed they formed a trench of wrinkles across his forehead. “Check her airway.”
Suddenly, you stared into JJ’s blue eyes. Other hands tried to manipulate your body. You jerked.
“(Y/N), relax.”
“Honey, please–”
“Turn her on her side!” Morgan’s cut off by Reid, his voice sharper than you’d ever heard.
***
Spencer Reid has survived many traumatic situations.
He's cared for his schizophrenic mother. He’s been kidnapped. He recovered from a drug addiction. And those are just a few items from his dissertation-length “PTSD-Causing Experiences” list.
But many of his worst traumas were a by-product of being a profiler– a job which allowed him to utilize his intellect to help others. He was willing to accrue trauma like Pokemon cards in exchange for applying his genetic gifts to create a safer world.
Reid could have framed your heat exhaustion as another scare in the line of duty. But when Reid saw you, his brilliant girl, on the ground, his heart fell through his feet.
Then, he saw how his the team responded to your medical emergency.
When he witnessed you coughing and writhing on your back as the team leered over with water, he thought he might explode.
You could be asphyxiating, and the team could be letting you choke while forcing more fluid down your throat.
He shivered as he sprinted down the steps of the local precinct and onto the grassy field where you lay.
“Turn her on her side!” He yelled as diagnoses and courses of action fled through his mind on hyperspeed.
“We’re trying, she—”
“Spence?” You choked out through a coughing fit. He’s surprised his ears caught it.
Reid knelt next to you. “Let’s get you into recovery position.” He said, his voice suddenly soft as clouds. Reid gingerly pushed you onto your left side. “Off your back, there we go.” He bent your right leg and slid it in front of your body to prevent you from rolling onto your stomach if you lost consciousness.
“Did she faint?” Reid asked the team. He couldn’t take his eyes from your face.
“We think so. She was dizzy, so she laid on the ground. Then she was unresponsive for at least 40 seconds,” Emily said.
Spencer pressed the back of his hand to your forehead. Predictably, you were feverishly hot. “She’s burning up. Has someone called an ambulance?”
“Allegedly.” Hotch said, an edge to his voice.
“We have, sir. They’re on their way.” A local police officer responded, exasperated.
Spencer’s eye twitched. “How long has she been down?” You whined, and he stroked your cheekbone with his thumb.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.” He whispered.
“In total, 15 minutes.” Hotch supplied. “Emily, pour some more water on her.”
“This was for her to drink.”
“Use one bottle to pour on her face and neck.” Spencer said. “I ran and got Gatorade. She should start with sips of that when she can swallow. Heat stroke can also be caused by salt depletion.”
Spencer was conversing with a local officer over the safety protocols in the area when a pair of policemen walked into the precinct, gossiping about the FBI agent who “folded fast in the southern Cali heat.”
Spencer’s jaw had clenched. Maybe one of his team members was ill since they put in most of the grunt work to catch the unsub. He would’ve been more annoyed if not for the worry gnawing at his brain. What if they were talking about (Y/N)? She looked a little shaky right after her chase with the unsub, but Spencer didn’t get a chance to ask his friend if she was alright. And, stupidly enough, he forgot to text her to check if she drank any water post-case. Quickly, Reid excused himself, grabbed a Gatorade from the fridge, and rushed to the field where your limp body trembled on the grass.
“I’m going to pour some water on you, honey," Emily said. You flinched as the frigid water hit your hairline.
“Breathe, relax.” Spencer said, shielding your nose. The last thing you needed was some accidental waterboarding.
Seconds after the water drenched your forehead, your whole body relaxed into the grass. “That felt good.” You smiled weakly.
Spencer stroked your arm. “Let’s sit you up in a minute, okay? You should try some Gatorade before the EMTs get here.”
“EMTs? I’m fine.” You whined.
Spencer didn’t think it was possible for his eyebrows to crease further.
“You’re not fine.” Gentler, he said, “and it’s okay not to be fine, sunlight.”
“But, I’m alive.” You tried to roll onto your stomach, but your bent leg kept you safe on your back.
Some on the team members chuckled, but Spencer didn’t find your delirium humorous. “I know you’re alive, sweetie. But you’re way too hot. I think you’re a little confused right now.”
“I’m just…” You winced. “I’m alive.”
The knot in Spencer’s chest tightened ten-fold. This could be heat stroke. At the very least, you had heat exhaustion. You were dehydrated. You were delirious.
Best case scenario: you were ill for a few days. Worst case scenario: You had vital organ damage.
Just as he’s about to call 911 himself, JJ interrupted him. “Look–ambulance lights. Help is on the way, honey.”
“You hear that, (Y/N)? You’re gonna be fine.” Morgan said. If only Spencer felt that confident.
“Spence…” You blocked your eyes from the light with your limp right hand. “I’m scared. I don’t feel well.”
“Oh, (Y/N), I know.” He cupped your shoulder and hoped you could feel his love for you through his palm. That sent a jolt down his spine. He wasn’t supposed to comfortably think those thoughts about you.
You were sick. This wasn’t the time. He leaned over your body. He gave you plenty of breathing room, but his torso was parallel to your hip so his eyes could meet your watering ones. “Hey, take a breath for me, Smartie.”
Your nickname for him slipped from his tongue so easily it spooked him. Suddenly, he noticed his thumb stroking over your cotton t-shirt. He should stop. The whole team was watching. He was being was too intimate; he'd face stupid quips from Morgan for days. He kept stroking anyway.
He observed your chest rise and fall. Your breaths were shaky but deeper. He relaxed a tad. Vital oxygen was reaching your bloodstream.
“(Y/N), can we try something?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. Maybe. What is it?”
The knot in his chest loosened. You responded immediately and with more than two words; you were becoming more lucid.
“Can you sit up and have some sips of Gatorade? I got your favorite flavor. At least, if your favorite flavor hasn’t changed from three years ago.” It most likely hadn’t. Once your opinion settled, it was frustratingly hard to erode your verdict.
“I can’t…I don’t know.”
“I know sitting up is hard. I’ll help you. And I’ll prop you against my chest. I’ll hold your weight when you can’t.”
“KK, Spence.” Your childlike tone tugged at his heart strings.
Spencer and Morgan lifted your limp body from the ground. They manhandled you into a sitting position with your head propped on Spencer’s shoulder and your body tucked between his thighs.
One of his arms stabilized you while the other raised a cold bottle of orange Gatorade to your lips.
After nine sips of Gatorade, you spoke again.
“Orange.” You took another sip. "My favorite.”
He smiled into your hair. “When have I ever lied to you, (Y/N/N)?”
***
Spencer nearly created a crater in the linoleum floor of the ER waiting room with his bouncing heel by the time the doctor came back with an update.
“She had a mild case of heat stroke. We currently have her on fluids, and she’ll need lots of rest for at least the next week.” Doctor Bahamani concluded.
“No signs of metabolic dysfunction? Any respiratory distress?” Reid checked.
Doctor Bahamani smiled knowingly. “She’s going to be just fine, Doctor Reid.”
“Can I see her?” Spencer asked.
“Yes. Only two at a time, please.”
Spencer didn’t care who volunteered with him. He moved without thinking. An outpouring of gratitude for his eidetic memory flooded him. Through the thickest brain fog, he could trust his recollection of the hospital to bring him to the correct hospital room.
The security staff practically had to drag him away from your bedside after the ambulance ride. They might have thrown him out of the ER if not for the flash of his FBI badge.
Something nagged at him as he sped past the nursing station.
You were going to be fine. The ER doctor confirmed it. Yet his heart was still pounding and he could barely refrain from running. Even more odd, he wasn’t ashamed of his irrational behavior.
So what if a doctor deemed you were okay? It was you. And he saw you groggier and more out of it than you'd ever been. And who knows how thorough the doctors were with their examination? It was completely reasonable to worry for one of his closest friends.
He just couldn't believe you were alright until he checked you over with his own hands and his own eyes.
***
When you grinned at him from your cot, Spencer wasn’t sure whether to smile or cry.
Tears glazed your eyes. But, your gorgeous smile was back.
“Spencer?” You asked, brow raised and head cocked.
He’d been staring too long. He looked like an idiot, lamely standing in the doorway as if he were the one with heat stroke.
“Straighten your head. Your neck is probably tight.”
You smiled, but this time it was tight-lipped and painful-looking. “You’re too worried.”
He watched saline drip down your IV. “Of course I’m worried, (Y/N). You got heat stroke.” With a deep breath as a shot of courage, he sat in the chair by the head of your bed.
There was nothing odd about sitting with his best friend at the hospital.
His chest twisted at “best friend” and his resolve collapsed. He couldn’t deny it anymore.
He liked you. He really, really liked you. He actually might even–
“Luckily, I got out pretty unscathed.” You snapped Spencer out of his spiral. “A little dehydrated. Achy. Might feel sick for a few days.”
“Or weeks.” Spencer corrected.
“Trying to look on the bright side here, Doctor.” You smirked and Spencer swore his right ventricle tightened.
Then, your nose scrunched and Spencer's wiped clean of any concern about his cardiac health.
“What hurts?”
“Just a little achy, Spencer. I’m alright.”
He shot you a look. He knew all your excuses. He knew you went to self-harming lengths to not worry people.
“You’re not alright.” He reached for the red nurse-call button.
Your eyes widened in surprise. “Okay…my body aches, Spence. And the IV burns. But they’ve already told me that’s normal. No need to take nurses away from an emergency.”
The nurses at the station desk didn’t appear to be rushing around for anyone, but Spencer feared this wouldn’t behoove his case.
“They can give you pain medication, if you want.”
You hesitated, and immediately Spencer pressed the button. When you smiled weakly instead of bickering, his worry grew tenfold but not without a rush of heat flooding his entire body.
In Morgan's words, he’s down bad.
“How are you doing, sunshine?” As if he’d been summoned, Morgan appeared in the doorway.
Spencer stepped back from your cot. The part of him riled from Morgan’s “sunshine” moniker wants to shove his hand into yours. Spencer thought he hid his annoyance well, but something about Morgan's smirk told him otherwise.
“Um…”
Morgan’s smirk fell. “You feel that bad, huh?”
You chuckled sadly. “Do I look that shitty or am I an open book today?”
“You never look shitty,” Spencer said. A tsunami of blood rushed to his face.
“Anyway,” Morgan said, “Do you want anything, Beauty Queen? I can grab you some jello.”
“Jello sounds nice.” You said, and something in your voice was so vulnerable and naive Spencer wanted to wrap you in his arms as tight as he could. Which was illogical. That would only hurt you further.
He shook his head as if that would remove the thoughts from his mind. “I’m gonna see if I can check up on your labs at the nurse’s station. I’ll make sure they’re giving you the good drugs.” He smiled.
You laughed– a genuine laugh– and Spencer’s heart soared. “Thanks, Spence.”
“I’ll go grab your jello,” Morgan said.
“Hold on, you should stay with her just in case she needs anything," Spencer said.
“I’ll be fine, Spence.” You said, but Spencer was not prepared to take "no" for an answer.
“If you boys wants to run her some errands, I’ll stay.” Emily stood in the doorway. “JJ is coming soon too– she just got a phone call from a very frantic Penelope.”
Your nose crinkled. “Oh no.” You groaned, but you were smiling.
“Oh, yes. Be prepared for some mother henning," Emily said.
“Garcia can’t be any more mother henning than Reid," Morgan said.
Before his face could turn redder than a baboon’s bottom, Spencer fled.
He’s only two yards from the nursing station when Morgan intercepted him at the end of the hall.
“So, you’re going to make your move, right?”
Spencer's body temperature plummeted. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He tried to shoulder past Morgan, but he was no match for his grip strength. “Reid, c’mon. You like (Y/N).”
Part of him wanted to laugh. “Like” seemed too simple of a word to describe the symphony of feelings (Y/N) started in him. “It’s…” He’s too tongue-tied to lie. “It’s complicated.”
You’re brilliant. You’re beautiful. You’re brimming with empathy. You’re everything Spencer could want. And it scared the shit out of him. Because that meant there’s even more to lose. And if he lost you, there would be no one to blame but himself. It was better for his psyche to not go there with you– to step back from the line rather than risk what would happen if he failed to make it work in the end.
And what if you got hurt? What is you fell in the line of duty? Or worse, what if someone targeted you because of your romantic tie to him? Spencer's already experienced the pain of losing a soulmate-- a concept he wasn't even sure he believed in-- once. He wasn't not sure if he could survive it a second time.
There was too much unpredictability in his life. He chose a dangerous profession. He was gifted a ticking time-bomb of dangerous genes. He’d never forgive himself if he inflicted onto you the pain he’s been through; losing loved ones, whether through death or mental illness.
Morgan's expression turned sympathetic. “Reid, you should give it a shot. Our lives our hectic. And if anyone deserves to be happy, it’s you.”
Spencer blinked to block tears from welling. “I just want her to be happy, too.”
“And who says you don't make her happy?”
“His idiotic genius brain.” Rossi appeared from around the corner.
Spencer froze. “You heard?” His face flushed yet again.
“Just the tail end. But Reid…” He trailed off.
Morgan took the hint. “I’m going to get (Y/N) some jello. With my charm, I could negotiate for some whipped cream.”
“Don’t get whipped cream on it. She’s lactose sensitive,” Spencer said.
Morgan's stupid smirk reappeared. “Gotcha, Reid.”
Rossi took Morgan's place. Once Morgan was out of sight, he began his speech. “You love her. Don’t get in your own way.” Rossi put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “And (Y/N) is an incredibly intelligent woman. Don’t insult her intelligence by thinking she can’t decide who is or is not worth taking a risk. And for what it’s worth…a man like you is worth the risk.”
Rossi left Reid staring at his back.
For the longest time, Reid convinced himself he refrained from asking you out to protect you from himself and his hefty baggage. And that’s not completely untrue.
But suddenly, he realized he was primarily trying to protect himself from exposing his vulnerabilities to you this whole time. There’s never been a person whose opinion affected him like yours. There's never been a life he's wanted to protect more except perhaps...Maeve.
But just like it’s up to you to decide who’s worth the risk, it’s up to him to decide as well.
And if today taught him anything, shit happens. And if you slip through his fingers, he doesn't want it to because he wasn't brave enough to make a first move.
And being your person was more than worth the risk of rejection.
Author's Note: Thank you to so much to everyone who stuck around through my hiatus! I appreciate every single one of you! You're super cool :)
Happy to be back! Inbox is open to chat about writing and take requests! Please check pinned "Blurb Requests" post before requesting! (Will update the post as my boundaries update!)
Have an awesome day or night, wherever you are in this crazy world. I am incredibly thankful you spent part of your precious life reading something I penned.
Forever grateful,
shewroteaworld
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid x you#spencer reid x y/n#spencer reid x self insert#criminal minds#criminal minds fanfiction#criminal minds fic#criminal minds fluff#spencer reid fluff#dr spencer reid#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid angst#criminal minds fandom#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid fic#spencer reid one shot
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Never Been A Friend | Part 1 | Jeon Jk
♧ synopsis: Sneaky glances across the room weighed with a dozen different meanings left to be unsaid; confusion, desire, lust. He was never a friend, was he?
♧ pairing: brother's bsf!jk, bratty!reader.
♧ warnings: y/n is too drunk to form a sentence, jungkook loves cursing, jungkook is jealous out of his mind, kinda enemies but not really, jungkook calls y/n a brat that he cant stand, someone calls y/n a slut, and that's all i can remember 😙
♧ WC: 1.6K
♧ a/n: hello loves! wrote this in one sitting and it's barely edited, but the intention is there lmao i love you all so much please enjoy! dont hesitate to tell me what you think <3 im like the no.1 supporter for constructive criticism lol okay thank you byeeeee
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JK's POV
She whines,
Throws tantrums,
Acts like a goddamn brat for the sake of being annoying,
And I still want her lips around my cock.
Why?
That goes beyond the fucking level of my emotional understanding.
I want her wrapped around my finger. I want her to get on her fucking knees and apologize for all the turbulent feelings she makes me suffer by.
She ruined my night.
I was fucking.
Blowing a girl's back just to lay off some steam. Get the stress of the college life off my shoulders.
But then, she just had to cock-block me.
My best friend’s sister.
Speaking of the twat, he dared to interrupt my one night stand for the sake of his bratty sister.
Usually, I love brats.
My type.
They make sex enjoyable. All the more pleasurable when they try to resist.
Keyword: try.
Because I know for a damn straight fact when a girl wants to be disciplined.
Fucked right and put in her place.
Reminds me of her. Y/L/N Y/N.
Except for one thing, though- she makes my fucking insides churn in all uncomfortable ways.
She doesn’t have a bratty attitude, the bitch has a bratty personality.
Yes, she is indeed a bitch. I can't stand a girl who's always annoying just because she feels like it. She'd never had a valid reason to hate me, and neither did I.
When I first met her, I mean.
She was laughing with her brother having breakfast one time when I came out of my room for painkillers and a glass of water.
Her brother and I were both freshmen in need of a dorm, and we agreed on splitting the rent once in a frat party.
Yes... we were both strangers to each other, but we clicked.
Met through mutuals, and our vibes matched. After living with each other for over six months now, we've grown pretty close.
He's cool, agreed on basic rules like who does the laundry or dishes, helped with assignments, and was always there when needed.
He's a friend. A close one.
A tolerable one.
That can't be said about a certain someone, though.
She scowled at me that day and later told me she didn't like my vibe when I confronted her about it.
Bullshit.
And yet, she's the reason I left a naked girl in my bed and came to this godforsaken club in the first place.
Her brother is here, too, which is why he called me to come pick her up. Said something about her being drunk, and since he had taken a shot or two as well, he couldn't take her home himself.
Or he just didn't want to, because he was also getting laid tonight.
That's proven to be right when I see him making out with a girl near the bathrooms.
His hands grope her all over as she arches into him, which is enough to make me look away.
Sly motherfucker.
Casting my vision toward the main dance floor, I scan the crowd for a short brunette with soft features.
Annoyingly soft features.
So soft that I want to corrupt her. Tear the bratty exterior and dig through the filthy dark side on the inside.
But those features aren't the only things that infuriate the hell out of me.
It's her innocence.
How can a brat be innocent, you may ask?
When my gaze lands on her, my jaw tenses in annoyance.
She sways her hips sensually, eyes closed and mouth open as she slides her hands down her body to a seductive beat following her movements.
I follow the action, eyes unable to tear away from her figure.
Her fingers skim over her neck down to her breasts and then further, the lightness she seems to be handling her body with attending to a grace she always breathed by.
Fuck, I hate this woman.
Hate everything about her.
How she moves.
How she walks.
How she fucking talks.
Runs her mouth like a brat who needs to be handled.
No- not like- is.
She is a brat.
A brat who's oblivious to all the eyes she's attracting.
Including mine.
Fuck.
Her dancing resumes as her eyes stay closed, feeling every beat.
She's enjoying herself.
Not for long.
I school my expression- which had turned into a scowl the moment I set my eyes on her- and begin my stride towards her.
I spot a man doing the same, but she's absolutely mind-numb as she continues to dance with her damn eyes closed.
I was irritated, but now I'm literally fed up.
He's a couple inches shorter than me, wearing a white tee and skinny ripped jeans.
Not to mention, his hair is slicked back by a disgusting amount of hair gel.
Ew.
He approaches Y/N with predatory eyes and a shit eating grin, his gaze set straight on her perky ass.
Which is just barely covered by the tight little dress she's wearing, inching higher and higher up her thighs as we speak.
My steps quicken when I see him reach out, apparently intending to slap her ass.
My blood boils.
White noise drowns out all available access to the outside world as I break out into a jog and reach her just in time.
My hand swiftly slides onto her tiny waist, and I glare at the man whose shit-eating grin is now gone, replaced with confusion.
Y/N's eyes stay closed as she giggles, and it's now I notice how drunk she is.
Bright crimson tints her cheeks and her breath smells of strong tequila, obviously from having taken too many shots.
Isn't she here with friends?
How could they leave her alone like this?
Her brother's here. Her brother is here.
My breath turns heavy, my heartbeat quickening. I have to stop myself from punching the douchebag in front of me into fucking oblivion because I don't know if i'll ever stop once I start.
Fuck.
I try to focus on anything besides her frame that's barely hanging onto me, all the exhaustion from her dancing catching up to her as she fights to keep her eyes open.
Why the fuck is she here all alone? Why did they- whoever she's here with, except her brother- leave her here like this?
Like she's not even aware of where she is.
Like she's not sober enough to be responsible.
Like she's not fucking strong enough to defend herself if anything happened to her.
I might punch a wall.
My grip tightens around her waist, which makes her drowsily lift her head to stare up at me.
She's still shorter than me with heels on, enough to put her neck in an uncomfortable position whenever she looks up at me.
It's adorable.
But that's none of my concerns as the slimy fuck keeps undressing her with his eyes. Makes me want to claw them out with my bare hands.
Repress.
"Wha..." She starts, growing more and more confused as she tries to wrap her head around where the hell she is. "Jungkook? What are you..."
She trails off into a mindfuck, allowing me to set my full focus on the man still staring between us with wariness.
My gaze hasn't worn off him since I saw him fucking reach for her ass, which makes me want to bash his head against the wall.
My breathing turns heavy again.
Repress.
"Off-limits." I bite out with enough to control to shock myself. I'm even more surprised that this motherfucker is still breathing.
His eyes thin into slits as he eyes me suspiciously. "I haven't seen you here the last couple of hours. Thought her sexy ass came alone." His eyes skim over her body, gaze lingering longer than necessary on her breasts.
Guess someone's leaving with no limbs tonight.
"You thought wrong." It takes almost all the last bits of my control to reply with that before I start turning around to leave, Y/N almost falling asleep on my arm.
She clutches the hem of my shirt with a weak grip, like a toddler would its mom.
If I couldn't get here in time, what would've happened?
I catch myself before I overthink it. If I did, I'm afraid I might commit a crime tonight. One of shameless blood and murder-
Repress.
My back is turned to him when I hear a low whistle, which makes me pause, angry enough for my limbs to shake with adrenaline.
"You know, It's often rare for a slut with such a sweet ass to be out here all alone wearing that. Almost like she's begging for a cock-"
The words are barely out of his mouth before my fist connects with his face. The force of my blow got him on the floor, nose fucked and bleeding. Might be broken.
Good. Bare minimum.
I almost straddle him and punch him to his fucking fortunate death.
Almost.
But I have to get Y/N home.
I can't stand this anymore.
I can't stand her anymore.
Coming here alone? Dressed like that?
I mean yes, she did come here with her idiot brother who thinks with his dick, but he's nowhere to be found.
How can someone be so nonchalant to just leave his sister here all alone?
I'm so goddamn confused.
And infuriated.
And...angry.
Fucking fuck.
I need to get her the fuck out of here before i lose my fucking mind.
Fuck me.
The punch I just delivered did little to satiate my thirst for this slimy fucker's blood.
But again, Y/N's more important.
I turn, my panic spiking so high it reaches levels it had never before when I find Y/N out of my sight.
My breathing starts to go abnormal for the nth time this night.
I might develop heart problems.
A sigh leaves my mouth when I spot her by the bars, trying to convince the bartender to give her another shot. Relief floods my system, and my breaths regulate.
I send a quick text the girl- who i already forgot the name of- and tell her to head home. She sends a crying emoji back but agrees nonetheless, telling me to call her back when everything is sorted out on my end.
I have other things to care for.
Or I guess, in this case, a certain person to tend to.
God, It's gonna be a long night.
@hoseokteardrop @nochuel @kaitieskidmore97 @nays2112 @jksoftii @yu-justme @meadow-in-spring @bunnykoos @looneybleus @fushigurosdarling @alpha-mommy69 @junecat18 @xjiminsthighsx @tanniesdolls @winterbeartaehyungbestboy @whoa-jo @ahgasegotarmy116 @jksusawife @frgetmenotes @baechugff @partyparty-yah @army130613210521 @drugerlime @allisonstone @hopekive @llallaaa @tarahardcore @hopetookmysoul @betysotelo18 @harmonic55 @ecrvea @awesomebabyyoda @peterstarkchrishiddleston @pinkrockstar19 @sweetestseoul @luv--youu @mochminnie @coletaehyung @whitelies2248-blog @ash07128 @bangtans-momma @yourbobaeyestell
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#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts fanfiction#jungkook ff#jungkook fanfic#jungkook x reader#e2l#kinda enemies to lovers lmao#idk if this is a series#jealous jk#jealous jungkook#brothers best friend#brother's best friend#jungkook jeon#jeon jk#yeah idk what else#love you guys sm#ugh#okay#bye#i love you
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Omg pleeeease I need a dark/angsty Tommy fic where he ends up hurting the reader? Like an argument gets too heated and he ends up slapping her or something. Like maybe she was flirting and dancing a bit too much with someone at a party they’re hosting and he gets jealous and drags her to their room, then they start arguing and he gets so enraged that he basically sees red and absolutely slaps the hell out of her (some non con/dub con smut after as well???). Just need some heavy, dark, possessive, violent, scary/mean Tommy Shelby 😫 The darker the better lol
Warnings: noncon, p in v + anal, physical abuse, degradation, threats with a gun, some blood play, misogyny, name calling
Hope you enjoy! Thank you!
Tommy watched from afar, seeing you and Ada drunk, giggling like a bunch of school girls at a table filled with men. He may not be able to control his sister but his wife was another subject. People were beginning to stare, especially the men Tommy needed on his good side for now. The dress you were wearing was skin tight, your panties just barely showing through the thin black fabric.
Tonight was a prestige dinner with delegates that Shelby Limited was in talks for business deals. The plan was too conversate, find weak spots, understand the patterns of movements, but the only thing Tommy was focused on was you, a long with every other man.
Even Arthur made a remark, a statement that angered Tommy even more. “Y/N’s quite the appeal tonight isn’t she?” Arthur chuckled, taking someone’s glass of whiskey and finishing it himself.
“What are you talking about?”
“Look at her, need to cherish her better brother before another man makes a move.” That was it, that was enough. When Tommy slammed his glass down and started to walk away Arthur pulled him back, pleading and convincing Tommy to just allow you to have fun for a night but he wouldn’t listen. Frowning, Arthur returned to the table, grabbing another drink whilst Tommy tried to keep his compusure. Greeting and checking in with the guests before approaching your flailing, inebriated body.
Three tradesman of London were in attendance, the blatant look of disgust from where they stood at the bookcase, giving your husband a look of disapproval before carrying on in conversation.
“Tommy! My husband, come here!” When you attempted to pull him down by the sleeve of his expensive suit, he pulled back, tucking his hands in his pockets, giving you a stern expression that told you to follow him.
Pouting, you crossed your arms, rolling your eyes annoyed, picking up a bottle of champagne before walking away with him, making flirtatious remarks to random men as you wobbled away until you were in the master bedroom.
Closing the door, you fell onto the floor laughing in a disarray of emotions, your vision blurry and your eyes dilated. Tommy pulled the nearly empty bottle from your hands, tossing it into the corner of the room before grabbing your wrist forcing you up onto your feet.
“What the fuck are you doing, eh? Are you stupid, is that it? You know how important tonight is and you go and fucking wreck it, bidding yourself off to other men when you are a married, taken woman.”
“Relax Tommy, we’re just having fun. What the boys can do whatever they damn well please but because of what’s between my legs I’m expected to just be formal, elegant?” Tommy looked at you with expecting eyes, not understanding where the confusion is. There were important men here tonight and seeing you galavanting around like some whore and being incoherently drunk made his blood boil.
Biting dowm on his tongue and locking his jaw, he pointed with dictation, sapphire eyes raging with fire as he seethed out the following words.
“Yes. It’s that fucking simple. You can’t even fucking stand up straight.” Scoffing, you tiptoed around the room, holding onto the dresser to keep your warm, sweating body from falling. The room was spinning but that didn’t change the anger from the double standard that was always set against you. You hadn’t thought before speaking, the words simply sputtering out what you’ve held in.
“You should be thanking me for flirting with them, without me you’d have nothing. I’m simply the means to an end to the shit deals you can’t make on your own.”
Tommy cut you off with the back of his hand slapping across your cheek ferociously, silencing you for good. Grabbing for the bruising skin, you looked back at your husband in shock and fear. He’s never, ever layed a hand on you.
When you ran for the door, he was faster, shoving the wooden object closed with his hand and yanking you back by the strands of your hair, pushing you carelessly onto the bed.
His hands tightened around your wrists as he shoved his hardened member upward against your mound.
“I’d have nothing eh? I’ll show you what it’s like to be treated like you’re nothing.”
Screaming hysterically, you wept as Tommy ripped the expensive gown, exposing the bare, delicate skin of your thighs. Hitting and fighting against his chest to push him away, he simply lifted his hand, slapping you harshly once more to stop the whining.
You pressed your hand gently against your temple, a headache forming in the core of your mind from the impactful blow.
Hearing the buckle of his belt, you panicked but were too weak to defend yourself from the man who claimed to be your husband.
“Maybe if you had just listened and weren’t a fucking whore tonight we wouldn’t be in this postion. Someone’s forgotten their place eh?” Pushing the thin laced fabric of your panties aside, he thrusted upward, letting his thick length penetrate you without any lube. Writhing and seething in pain below him, tears prickled at your eyes, not recognizing who was staring at you anymore.
Spitting at his face, he smiled slyly, a dark twisted grin bellowing at what you had done.
Returning the favor he spat back, hitting you once more with a forceful, strong slap that echoed through the room and knocked out your hearing in one ear.
“Don’t forget sweetheart. I own you, you’re my property.” Wrapping his hands around your throat, you struggled for air as he drilled into your dry cunt, shredding open the sensitive skin like a grater would cheese. Blood slowly leaked out from your pussy, the ability to scream non existent as your airway was constricted, bruising as his nails dug into your skin.
When your hands reached up to try to push him away from your neck, desperate for air, he shed himself of his tie, wrapping the fabric around your wrists tightly to the headboard and shoved his underwear in your mouth.
Slapping your cunt repeatedly, he mocked your whimpers, feeling your walls slowly start to produce your sweet syrup against your will.
“How pathetic, is this what you wanted? Someone likes me cock, who knew my wife was a little fucking whore.” Screeching beneath the makeshift gag, your skin seethed in pain, wanting nothing more for this to be over.
His hands grasped at your breasts, tugging and pulling at your nipples, smitten by how easily your body gave in to him.
Flipping you over onto your stomach, he spread your ass cheeks, pulling the fatty skin apart finding that tight, untouched hole you’d been denying him for so many years, now he was going to take it for himself.
There was nowhere for you to go, your eyes searched, panicked looking for anything to get you out of these bindings, but there was nothing.
Aligning himself with your taint, you could feel the rounded head of his shaft resting at your virgin entrance. Every bone and muscle in your violated body tensed when his head pushed through your strained, congested walls. You screamed in agony as he wasted no time burying himself balls deep in your taint.
“Oh fuck…Didn’t know you could feel this good love. My little slave, that ass devouring me cock. About time I reminded you of your place. Nothing but a slut, a mere stupid little bitch.” He moaned in between thrusts as he fucked your anus, pounding your ass up and down on his shaft while holding the cheeks of your ass roughly. The sporadic pain was different than your pussy, far more intensified. It didn’t feel like stinging anymore, the size of his penis sent flames of fire through your hole.
When he buried his neck into the crook of your neck while he continued to pump relentlessly into you. You fumbled with the bindings while he wasn’t paying attention.
Realessing a choked sob, you were on the verge of being free, fidgeting with the tight knot with a tremendous effort, working over the fabric through the tears and painful agony, but you weren’t as smooth as you thought. Tommy’s hand shot up, slamming down on yours and pulled you arms behind your back, causing the gag to fall out in the process.
“Help! Help! Ah-“ Striking you in the back of your waeay head, he shoved his fingers between your lips, invading your mouth and pulling at the sides of your lips.
“Shut the fuck up. Listen to me, are you listening sweetheart?” You whimpered through his fingers, nodding your head, squeezing your eyes closed in a pained expression when he thrusted his cock violently with a force of strength and dominance.
“No one is coming to your rescue, you belong to me, and I have the right to use and abuse my property all I want and you will listen, or suffer the consequences as you are right now. Get up.” Tommy pulled you onto his lap, reinserting his lengthy shaft into your soaking wet walls. You mewled from the discomfort, struggling to make eye contact with Tommy.
His lips connected to your hardened nipples, biting down on the flesh harshly, aiming to draw blood. Slapping you across the face once again, your head whipped to the other side fiercly.
“Ride me. Go on, you claim to be so great in bed to those men out there. Can’t treat your husband the same?” Another backhand, before his hand gripped the fat of your ass cheeks, slamming you up and down on his cock, an immense joy curdling within him from seeing your pathetic tears.
Then an idea struck you, if you’r just get him off surely he’d let you go. A satisfied grin spread across his face when you began to rotate your hips, staring slowly at first before picking up speeding.
“Ah, fuck, that’s it love. Show me what that worthless cunt can do.” You continued to whine and whimper as you rode his cock, your ass landing on his thighs with each powerful bounce, your breasts flying up and down for his amusement.
You could feel him begin to pulsate, he was close, very close.
Arching your back, Tommy focused in on your pussy devouring his lengthy member with each pivotal motion of your hips. Your walls tightened, constricting his length, and within seconds his seed was filling your tortured void, flooding into your ovaries.
At that moment you moved as fast as lightning, taking the lamp and smashing it over his head to try to escape his bitter soul. Rushing to put clothes on, you ran to the door, thinking that someone would help you but Tommy wasn’t weak and you were nowhere nearly as strong as him. He was quick to recover, but not as quick as you. Throwing on a nightshirt and slipping on the closest thing to work as underwear, you opened the door just nearly out when Tommy pulled on his pants, rolling over the bed and running, rushing toward you, slamming the door closed once again.
You punched the door in defeat, frightened to turn around until he forced you to, pulling out something you’d never thought he’d use as a threat to you.
“If you think I am playing some sort of sick game, you are sadly mistaken sweetheart. Now get back on the fucking bed, you’ve done enough tonight.” Removing the safety, he pointed the gun directly on the middle of your forehead, the cool metal barrel sending chills down your spine. Is this what your marriage had come to? How were you supposed to move forward from this catastrophic night? Surely people would notice the bruises but then again, no one ever questioned Tommy Shelby, not anyone that gave a shit about their life.
Surrendering you rose your arms, the shaking of your trembling hands visible. The man facing you, you no longer recognized. There was no guilt, or shame, or any type of love present in those venomous, frigid eyes, he really wasn’t joking. Making your way back to the bed, you tucked your head onto the pillow, weeping relentlessly into the case of the feathered object. Tommy layed the gun down on the table, taking a seat beside you. You flinched away from his cold, heartless touch, terrified of what was to come next.
“I need to go back and entertain our guests. You stay here and be good. Can you do that?” He twisted your labia, pinching the sensitive skin, causing you a tremendous amount of pain, reminding you what could happen if you don’t listen.
Nodding with fearful, tired eyes, you watched as Tommy dressed himself, and stayed in your fragile position on the soiled sheets, eventually crying yourself to sleep in the dark room.
#thomas shelby#tommy shelby#ranaewrites#peaky blinders#thomas shelby imagine#tommy shelby imagine#thomas shelby x reader#tommy shelby x reader#requested
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symptoms and causes | ch. 11
x pairing professor!gojo x med student f!reader (medical au)
x summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.
x wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)
x warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, overdosing, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive and abusive behavior, manipulation, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.
x author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡
series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad
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They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.
And there lies the damn problem.
I don't know how.
Never have.
Why am I thinking this now?
I knew this was right.
Right for her.
But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?
Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.
I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.
It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.
Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first.
I hope he gives her space.
But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how.
Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.
It shouldn't be him.
Sorry.
It shouldn't have been him.
Past tense.
It all might be past tense now.
And the thought is more than I could bear.
Shattered.
Was that the word?
Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?
How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?
Words are meaningless in the end.
Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.
So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word.
The wrong word.
The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.
But time doesn't care.
It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made.
My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.
I didn't want to breathe anymore.
Not in a world where every breath ached without her.
"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled.
Irrelevant.
My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill.
His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.
So, I lied.
Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.
Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.
Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.
Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen.
This was my punishment.
I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.
The door clicked shut behind them.
That simple sound, final, absolute.
My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want.
My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.
The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.
"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"
I nodded.
They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.
How stupid.
Of course, I favored her.
How could I not?
She is everything.
Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.
She was everything.
Did I regret it?
Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?
Yeah, maybe.
A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.
My responses were rote, mechanical.
Yeah, I favored her.
Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.
Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age.
No, she didn't know I'd set it up.
No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.
And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.
Except maybe — maybe loving me.
After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies.
They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.
Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.
Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.
Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build.
Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.
I didn't feel anymore.
I was done.
─── ·✧· ───
I burst out of the courtroom.
I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.
That itch.
It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.
My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.
Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.
The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating.
My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.
They didn't matter. None of it mattered.
A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall.
My blood roared in my ears.
Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.
Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.
In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.
It was a stranger.
I was across the room before I even registered the decision.
The drawer.
My fingers ripped it open.
There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.
Don't —
Don't come at me now.
Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?
My hand reached, then hesitated.
The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.
The door creaked open.
And there he was. Sukuna.
He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.
Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.
I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.
"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."
"Funny to you?"
He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."
Every muscle in my body tensed.
He was right.
In his twisted way, he was.
And that's what made it all so much worse.
My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.
Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."
His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard.
Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?
"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."
My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.
"Hit a nerve, did I?"
"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."
This was his game.
Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain.
He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.
"Perhaps. But ain't I right? You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."
I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.
"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."
"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair. It had taken everything in me to push her away.
But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me.
See her drown.
"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."
"Stop giving me reasons to punch you." Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"
"What?" he scoffed.
I lifted a single eyebrow at him.
"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."
"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."
He was right, and I hated that more than anything.
Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."
I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"
I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.
Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."
"Yeah, real supportive of you."
"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"
"Shut the hell up."
"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."
"You expect a thank you?"
"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."
A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."
He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."
"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?"
Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."
Of course.
The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.
It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.
"That supposed to make me feel better?"
"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."
I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.
He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."
My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."
He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."
"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."
"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."
With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.
The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.
─── ·✧· ───
Cruel.
Cruel how one little pill can undo everything.
Cruel how one little pill can silence everything.
Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.
Unfair.
It's truly unfair.
The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.
Finally.
Oh, finally some fucking silence.
I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.
But for now, it'll have to be enough.
I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.
I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.
What a hypocrite I am really.
Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat.
The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.
So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.
It really came down to me failing again, huh?
What was it now?
Attempt number five?
Six?
I started losing count.
Maybe this was my fate.
A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.
Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder.
She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.
God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.
I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.
I watched my hand for a second.
Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood.
I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.
Traitor.
This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.
Weak.
Broken.
A pathetic mess.
Was that it?
Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time?
Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?
My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table.
Took too many, didn't I?
I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.
Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.
Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.
I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.
I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.
Too many.
Way too many.
How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.
Stupid. So damn stupid.
Darkness swam at the edges of my vision. Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet.
I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.
This wasn't me anymore.
I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.
My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall.
The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.
I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.
My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course.
Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.
How pathetic.
Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.
Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.
Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.
My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.
Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—
I knew that voice — would always recognize it.
Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.
Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.
But my eyes betrayed me.
She must be so beautiful. She always was.
Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?
Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.
Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.
The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.
Groaning, I shifted on the floor.
My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity.
The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg.
Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut.
I reached for the syringe and read the label.
Adrenaline.
Smart girl.
But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?
I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers.
She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.
Terror.
There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.
She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.
The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse.
For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.
She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.
How I hated her silence.
Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.
And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.
Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."
Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"
I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"
She didn't say anything.
It probably was on purpose.
My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"
"What happened to your hand?"
"I asked first."
"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.
"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."
"Stole it from the hospital."
"What?"
"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"
My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.
"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"
Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."
My smile faded.
Silence.
Oh, that cruel silence again.
She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.
Ironic, wasn't it?
How much power this woman had over me.
Yet it was me who destroyed her.
She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"
Huh?
Why would she ask that?
Didn't she see that it's over?
That I'm too far gone?
It was unbearable.
It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't.
Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.
I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.
"Doesn't matter. It's over."
"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."
"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.
Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within.
I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.
I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.
But I couldn't.
Because I was the problem. I was the poison.
She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."
"I know."
"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.
"I know, love."
My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood.
I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this.
She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.
Because I was selfish.
Knew how it would end.
And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated.
"It's for the best, believe me—"
"No," she cut me off. "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."
She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."
What?
The words turned my blood to ice.
After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.
My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full.
She loved me, she said it.
She loves me.
She loves me.
And I love her.
God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.
I've never once loved in my entire life.
Not until her.
Not until she changed me completely.
What is that, anyway? Love?
How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me?
How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.
Because how could I ever live without it.
Not when she showed me how to breathe.
How to live.
How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?
Not when she showed me how to breathe.
With her.
For her.
Because she is the air that fills my lungs.
The pulse that keeps me alive.
And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before?
Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little.
Nothing.
I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.
Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves?
Because she does.
She deserves everything.
She is everything.
Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.
Still—
How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life?
It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.
Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me.
Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.
More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips.
I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for.
Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.
"I spare you," I rasped.
"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."
"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."
"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."
The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.
And in that moment, I finally realized.
It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.
Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.
My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.
Her love terrified me.
"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better."
"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."
Oh, love, that's not true.
You are my better. I'm your worst.
I wanted to say that, should've said that.
But I remained silent, unable to say anything.
"Say something, Satoru."
I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.
"Say something, damn it!"
"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.
"Is that what you hope for?"
"I have to."
She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.
I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.
She knew. She always knew.
Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.
"That's it?" she asked.
"That's it."
She watched me. Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger.
Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.
Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.
When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this.
I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.
But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.
Because I'm selfish.
I do love her. Gods, how I love her.
But my fear was stronger.
And I was too damn weak to fight it.
─── ·✧· ───
Four weeks.
Was it four weeks?
I can't remember.
Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore.
It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.
Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.
Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.
So I was barely sober.
My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.
But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that.
It was a sick, relentless cycle.
The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.
It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.
Her name, though, cut through the haze.
There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse.
I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.
So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next.
Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.
─── ·✧· ───
I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.
My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.
Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment.
Yet, muscle memory took over.
I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half.
She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.
The usual chatter died down when I walked in. Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting.
Once, perhaps, it was.
Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right?
Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.
With a sigh, I turned towards the class.
And there she was.
My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.
Of course.
Of fucking course.
Second-year lecture.
How the hell could I forget that?
She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.
My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her.
Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her.
But I knew it was wrong.
Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.
Still, she didn't flinch.
Endured it like she has always endured everything.
Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."
My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.
It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her.
Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.
Should've expected that.
Shouldn't make me angry, right?
Still did.
Finally, thank god, the bell rang.
I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.
I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.
She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."
Silence.
Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.
Now, it was done.
Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still.
Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.
"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face.
They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.
Silence again.
My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.
Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."
I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.
"Didn't you get suspended?"
"They postponed it."
She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.
"How are you?"
"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—"
She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.
She didn't need to voice it.
My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.
I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know.
I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat.
Pointless now, anyway.
Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.
She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment.
I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.
"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."
"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"
Each word was acid on an open wound.
I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?
"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"
I tried to speak, but she cut me off. "Don't. You. Dare."
"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"
Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out.
Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.
It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out.
It was the look of someone who loved me.
"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.
My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.
The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me.
I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."
Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep.
"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."
Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency.
"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."
"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."
She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."
Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.
And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.
Not from hers.
"Shut up," I growled.
"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."
Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself.
Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."
Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."
The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.
Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.
I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.
Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks.
I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.
Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty.
"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.
My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.
"Don't push me."
"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."
"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."
Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it.
But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.
"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."
"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."
The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.
My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling.
Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.
Then, the auditorium door creaked open.
Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.
Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.
After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."
"For what, love?"
"For it to get easier."
I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.
"You said it would get easier," she added.
It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.
"I don't know if it ever will."
Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.
In distance.
Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.
Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.
Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.
I watched her go.
Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.
I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.
The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.
Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder.
"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.
"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"
I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.
"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."
"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."
Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence.
"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."
"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."
Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."
"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.
"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."
"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."
He sighed. "You're the absolute worst patient ever."
"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out." I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.
"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"
I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"
"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."
Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages. "You want me to do it? Is there something special about this patient?"
"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."
Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows. "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."
Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk.
I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag. "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.
Without another word, I left the auditorium.
─── ·✧· ───
My eyes snapped open.
I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest.
For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.
Damn nightmares.
Another night of that shit.
I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.
I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.
My fault.
Always my fault.
I couldn't breathe right.
Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.
I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.
I'd hurt her.
I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.
Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—
I hated myself.
Hated the way I ruined everything.
Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good.
It was like a damn curse.
Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.
Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?
How could that possibly be wrong?
Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?
Perhaps.
Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it?
It was over.
I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin.
The silence was unbearable.
I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.
That bitch.
The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.
Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?
I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill.
Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.
I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.
The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank.
No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.
I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination.
Just moving, pushing, escaping.
Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but — manageable.
I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed.
Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.
Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.
"Rough night?"
"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side.
I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.
I knew why the name was so familiar.
I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."
Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it.
But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it?
Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.
Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.
Still, a smile tugged at my lips.
Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.
I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.
Ah, fuck it.
Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.
I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable.
I couldn't stop.
The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?
Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.
A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched.
In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.
A heavy exhale escaped my lips.
She was there.
Here.
On this same cursed world with me.
My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.
She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.
My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun.
In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.
But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.
She was staring down — right at me.
Shit.
I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.
"You're bleeding."
I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.
"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."
I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion.
"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.
Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.
─── ·✧· ───
I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"
I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it."
Yeah. Now she remembered.
With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be.
The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.
My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.
Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh?
Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything.
Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.
With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.
Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.
"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"
Huh?
I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.
"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."
"What dose?"
"You really don't want to know."
"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.
"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."
She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned.
I really needed a pill now.
She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"
I knew it.
I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her.
"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."
I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head.
I needed two pills now.
"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"
"I'm not high—"
"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."
Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.
"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."
She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."
Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.
"You're right. And I'm sorry—"
"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."
How little you matter?
Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.
A harsh laugh escaped me.
"You find this funny?"
"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."
Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.
"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."
She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.
Because even her anger was better than her indifference.
I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.
Might as well make her hate me.
"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"
Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut.
Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.
Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.
I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.
"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.
"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.
Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.
"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"
Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.
"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."
"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."
Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.
"More."
Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"
"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."
In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."
Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin. I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.
"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."
"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."
"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"
Okay, now it gets personal.
"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"
Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.
"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."
Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.
"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"
She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line.
"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."
"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"
"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"
"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."
"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."
"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"
Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips.
My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.
"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."
"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"
Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second.
My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.
How treacherous a body can be, huh?
"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward.
She's so damn beautiful.
I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."
Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.
I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.
She felt incredible.
Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her.
In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole.
I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.
With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.
This woman owned me — plain and simple.
It was madness, this pull towards her.
Insane, perhaps.
But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.
Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.
"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.
Weren't together anymore after all.
Kissing would be too much.
Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.
I loved that look on her face.
I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.
I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.
Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.
Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"
I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin.
With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body.
She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—"
She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.
Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.
She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.
"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."
"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips.
Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.
"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine.
Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.
We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle.
"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."
"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.
This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.
It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.
"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."
Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.
"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."
Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.
She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release.
My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips.
My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."
"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."
"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."
"You really believe that, don't you?"
"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"
"You're the only addict here."
"Liar," I rasped.
Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.
But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.
I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.
I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips.
It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.
"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."
Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.
"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.
Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.
She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm.
I couldn't wait to be inside her again.
She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."
Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.
"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."
Oh, love. I know you like that.
I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm.
"More," she begged.
I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.
I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit.
However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.
She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath.
I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.
Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance.
I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.
She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."
I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her.
"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."
With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.
I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.
As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"
Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.
I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.
Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.
Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.
I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release.
Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.
With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me.
I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.
I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.
I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight.
Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.
Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.
Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.
"Tell me something I don't know."
She shifted to face me, her expression serious. "Promise me something."
"Anything you want, love."
"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."
I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.
I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.
The words heavy with a lie we both knew.
<- prev chapter | next chapter ->
author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.
i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are.
also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.
also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.
so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡
okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡
🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)
#symptoms and causes#gojo saturo#jujutsu kaisen#saturo gojo x reader#jjk x reader#gojo x reader#gojo x y/n#gojo x you#gojo x female reader#satoru gojo smut#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo angst#gojo angst#jjk smut#gojo satoru#jjk x you#jjk fanfic
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This is me Trying - LS2
A/N: I feel so bad for Logan after what has happened. Please don't send any type of hate to Alex.
Summary: James tells Logan that he won't be racing on Sunday and everything goes down hill.
Logan Sergeant x female!reader
Warnings: panic attacks and some swearing
I just wanted you to know that this is me trying, at least I'm trying.
“-so you won’t be able to drive this weekend”
“What?”
“Alex is going to be driving your car this weekend since his car is severely damaged.”
“Oh, okay,” Logan felt numb. He couldn’t feel his hands shaking, but he could see them physically shaking.
“I know it’s a lot but the team really needs this Logan. Thank you for doing this,” James said before walking off.
Logan began to feel himself lose touch with reality. It was a feeling he was beginning to feel comfortable with. I mean at this point it was happening every race weekend now, so he just HAD to get comfortable with it. At first, he didn’t know what it was, maybe he was just getting sick; but after a few times and some Google searches, he figured out what it was.
Panic attacks.
No one knew that he experienced them. Not James, not his trainer, not Oscar; hell, his own girlfriend did not know that he got them. He had to get out of there fast so no one found out. God, he couldn't even imagine what the media would do if it became public knowledge.
Tears and ragged breaths while hidden in the corners of his driver’s room became his go-to when he didn’t know what else to do. This time it felt different though. The sobs were louder and his vision was blurrier, he felt weak. He felt stupid. How could someone fuck up so badly and he still would get punished. He knew life wasn’t fair and he knew that Formula 1 wasn’t fair either.
But fuck, it wasn’t fair. At all.
The knock on the door did not register the first time, nor the second or third. He only realized someone entered the room when he felt someone’s hand on his shoulder.
You, the love of his life, was seeing him at the lowest he had ever been. Gasps in between sobs were loud and short, and Logan felt embarrassed. He felt shameful and afraid. He couldn’t breathe and he was scared for his future.
“It’s not fair, it's not fair, it’s just not fucking fair. I'm trying. I’m trying so fucking hard. Can’t you see that? Can’t anyone see that,” he babbled out.
“Logan I- I know that this is hard, you worked so hard. You deserve to be driving, you shouldn’t be placed on the back burner because someone made a mistake. You’ve worked so hard for so long and it kills me to see you like this. Have you thought about how Alex may-,” Logan cut you off before you could say anything else.
“No, no. Do not even start with Alex. I know he’s better, I know I am a liability, but I know I can try to be better,” he got up suddenly. He felt lightheaded, he felt dizzy. Stumbling around his room trying to get away from you. “I finally out-performed him and it just gets ripped out from underneath me. Literally,” Logan laughs bitterly. He didn’t care what he looked like now, he probably looked like a madman, but who the hell cares anymore?
“Logan- please just listen to me. Alex probably feels like shit. Yes he crashed his car but it's not his fault the team gave him your car. It's the team,” she pauses “It’s- it’s James’ fault.”
“I don’t care whose fault it is. I just care about the fact that this is probably going to be one of the last times I'm going to be in F1. My time is going to get cut short, no one has any faith in me anymore. I don’t blame them though, I’m failing and I'm terrified,” Logan says. He could finally breathe normally but he could still feel his heart pounding in his ears.
He didn’t understand any of it. How could he be failing so badly at something he used to be so good at? He glanced back at you, ready to face the disappointment he knew you secretly hid.
“Just tell me you can’t stand me anymore. Tell me that I embarrass you. Tell me that you hate me. Tell me that you are disappointed in me. Please just tell me, please.”
“Logan-,” you were in shock. You never knew that he felt like this, about himself. He hid it so well, almost to the point where it was impressive. “You know I could never say any of those things to you. I love you so, so much and I'm so proud of you,”
Both of you heard a knock on the door and one of William’s PR managers called out, “Media in 10, Logan!”
How they expected him to go out into the media pen and act like everything was fine was beyond you. Reaching up to cup his face in your hands, you quickly wipe away a stray tear that fell at your confession. Logan gently squeezed your wrist and smiled sadly. A silent, but meaningful conversation.
#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fic#formula 1#williams formula 1#williams racing#williams f1#williams#logan sargeant x you#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#logan sargeant imagine#logan sargeant fluff
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jealousy, jealousy ⋆ trafalgar law x reader
summary: eustass helps law realize something
♡: sort of non-canonical wano law content. female reader. 750+ words. sfw content.
law could feel his eye twitch at the sight of you two. it has his stomach twisting in knots and his throat running dry, like some form of horrific torture.
despite being an incredible asset to his team, he was beginning to regret bringing you along on this mission at all.
out of all the people in the country of wano, you had to end up with that red-haired, idiot of a captain. law doesn’t understand how anyone would find interest in that unruly dumbass, but here he was with an arm around you and his face so close to yours that law was sure you could taste his breath.
law never knew exactly what your type was but he wasn’t expecting it to be…that.
“trafalgar, what’re you staring at over there?” the dumbass in question asks, with an obvious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.
you turn at the call of your captain and law bitterly rolls his eyes in response, attempting to act as unbothered as he could right now.
hearing eustass laugh in response, surely making you chuckle too, has an unreasonable, seething jealousy burn in law’s chest. and when he turns back his heart sinks, staring in disbelief as the two of you begin to lean in to each other.
law doesn’t know what comes over him, but his vision grows blurry and time begins to feel like it is slowing down. “y/n-ya, can i see you outside for a moment please,” he strainingly calls. he doesn’t bother to check for a reaction from either of you, but he can assume that one of you isn’t too thrilled to be interrupted.
the moonlight that cascades over wano envelopes your skin in a minute blue-ish tint the moment you step out and law momentarily forgets his distain for a couple of seconds, too engulfed in your beauty to be able to think.
“captain?” you question, pulling his head out of the clouds.
he shifts awkwardly on his feet, scratching the back of his neck. “i, uh—“ he dryly coughs, “i needed to see you for a moment.”
you nod, assuming he would continue and inform you further, but he just stood there averting his gaze between the ground and you. “yes…for what?”
his gray eyes seem more lackluster than normal, which was odd, even for him. law usually was so composed and calm, even in the most dangerous situations, seeing him so on-edge was slightly unnerving.
“captain,” you gently say, reaching over lightly grab his shoulder, “you can talk to me.”
before you can retract your hand, law grabs it to hold in his. “i don’t think you should date eustass,” he blurts out, startling the both of you.
his hand that’s holding yours grows clammy, you were certain even he wasn’t intending to reveal that information.
“i—i mean, he just doesn’t seem like your type…no, wait, fuck—“
your head tilts, brows furrowing as you watch him poorly string a sentence together. in all the time that you’ve known law, you’ve never heard him babble like he is right now before.
“so what is my type?” you question, crossing your arms over your chest.
he thinks about speaking before he actually does, “well…you deserve someone who could treat you, you know, good. someone smart, who knows you and—“
your lips curve into a smile, eyes softening when you realize who he’s describing. “law, that sounds like you,” you interrupt.
law’s entire body freezes, his eyes widen as he looks up at you. he shakily points to himself with a confused, almost humorous, expression on his face. the realization on his face soon sets in, finally taking a deep breath. “…that sounds like me,” he repeats, to himself mostly.
“i didn’t realize you felt that way about me, captain,” you say in a much calmer, almost flirtatious tone as you step closer to him. you reach up to lightly graze the stubble on his chin, bringing his lips closer to yours.
his breath hitches, wanting nothing more than to continue where you and eustass had left off. “wait, wait, wait, as your captain…and future boyfriend, i would like to take you out on a proper date first. it’s the least you deserve,” he blushes, trying his hardest to not give in to the temptation of how soft your lips look.
as disappointed as you are, you have to appreciate his dorky, yet chivalrous, nature (which doesn’t surprise you one bit). “i guess that’s okay, the longer i wait, the more i’ll want you,” you smirk, thumb brushing over his bottom lip as you head back inside.
law stands in awestruck, a small drop of blood descending from his nose.
likes, reblogs, and comments are always appreciated! (✿◠‿◠)
#trafalgar law#trafalgar law x reader#law x reader#trafalgar law imagine#one piece#one piece x reader#one piece imagine
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doctor's advice
synopsis: y/n decides to go to the leading plastic surgery clinic in korea bcs she's sick of feeling the way she does about how she looks. she catches the attention of dr. im nayeon, the head of this practice who thinks y/n is way too pretty to warrant any of those feelings she has about herself.
warnings: this is lowkey just smut oops, fingering, oral, body image issues - so a lil angsty in the beginning
w/c: 4.2k
a/n: this one is kinda all over the place and i lwk hate it but i needed to finish it so i could get over this writing block like i did kindaaa have a vision for it but i gave up halfway and just turned to sex which is why it doesn't flow well LMAO but hey! doctor nayeon is hot so!
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"can i get your full name please?"
"y/n l/n."
the receptionist smiles at you, typing something into her computer and handing you a form, "alright y/n, just fill in this form and someone will be with you in a bit."
you nod, accepting the form and taking a seat in the waiting room of the plastic surgery clinic you were currently at.
you scan over the details of the form. most of it was just demographic information, asking you your age, gender, a little about your daily activities, whether or not you actively exercised, all the simple questions.
you were feeling a little desperate when you finally decided to make a first consultation at the most well-renowned plastic surgery clinic in seoul. you had been thinking about doing it for a while now, but lately the feeling of disgust at being in your own body was overwhelming.
your parents didn’t understand why you’d want to do anything to the body they brought into this world. your friends thought plastic surgery was an excessive response and that it could potentially be dangerous. but none of them understood what it felt like to wake up everyday and be reminded that you were stuck in this body, the fear that no-one will ever be able to love you and that you’d consequently end up alone for the rest of your pitiful life.
your grip on the pen grows a little tighter as you remind yourself why you’re here.
you feel a set of eyes on you as you’re getting to the end of the form, so you look up, locking eyes with a gorgeous woman in a clean white lab coat, curious eyes behind a set of thick spectacles that frame her face perfectly. with all your experience analysing how you look you can't help but think she would be the perfect reference for your surgical procedures.
but you're also hit with thoughts of why is she looking at me? is she judging me? i bet she's judging me. fuck what is she looking at? is it my legs? my arms? my nose? is she thinking i'm an unsolveable case? fuck i shouldn't have come here. i should go now-
"hi, y/n?"
you're snapped out of your thoughts when you realise the pretty woman is now standing in front of you.
"y-yes." you curse at the stutter but she pays it no mind, offering a smile.
"the receptionist gave me your name. i'm dr im but you can call my nayeon. do you want to come with me?"
your eyes widen when she introduces herself. dr im. the most well-renowned plastic surgeon in the industry. you heard rumours that she had waitlists up to 20 years long and that you couldn't get an appointment with her except through referral. she was the one who brought this clinic its reputation of the leading plastic surgery clinic in the country.
"i-i'm sorry there must be some mistake? i didn't think the dr. im would be my advising clinician today."
she smiles again, "well no i wasn't meant to be but i came to grab some files from the front desk and i saw you and asked jiyeon," she gestures to the receptionist who handed you your form, "and found out you were here for an advisory session and forgive me if i'm being forward but i just thought you were beautiful and wondered what you possibly could've wanted to get done."
you feel your cheeks rapidly heat up as you gape up at her in shock.
"i can call back the previous doctor who was assigned to you if you want! i didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable i'm sorry if i-"
you interrupt her quickly, "no no! sorry that was just a surprise to me i definitely wasn't expecting that from you but um- yeah sure we can go now i'm fine with you being my doctor."
she grins then, and you're entranced by her slightly larger front teeth that make an appearance, "great! follow me."
you stand up a little frantically, gathering all your things and quickly following dr im.
it's more of an office than a doctor's room, you note the expensive leather and framed awards and certifications hanging on her wall, the neatly organised desk and pretty flowers that decorate and give the room some colour.
you sit cautiously in one of the chairs in front of her desk as she moves to sit in hers
"water?" she offers you.
you shake your head no, glancing down at your hands and fiddling with them just to be able to do something.
she looks over your form very briefly before looking back to you with a kind smile. "so what were you hoping to get out of coming here today y/n?"
you can't look up at her, "u-um just... y'know. like... everything..."
she cocks her head, "everything?"
"yeah like... face, body, all of it."
nayeon frowns, "that would be quite an expensive procedure."
"oh money's not really a problem. i've saved up a lot for this." you try to joke a little, if only to ease your own nerves, "worked my ass off all throughout high school and college so i could do this one day."
"you don't want to spend that money on anything else?"
you're confused and finally look up at her, "well i mean sure there are plenty of things i could spend it on but this is something i've thought about for a long time now and i'm finally ready to do it."
she's quiet for a little, seeming to be deep in thought, before she speaks up, "y/n... has someone made you feel like this?"
you frown, your sweaty hands gripping your pants tighter, "i'm sorry what does this have to do with my appointment?"
"i want to make sure you're doing this for the right reason. wanting to alter your entire body is a big decision and it can have lasting impacts. i don't want you to regret it afterwards."
you're getting more and more frustrated. this was a famous plastic surgeon who dealt with thousands of surgeries and has probably met cases like yours but she still doesn't seem to understand you. just like your parents and your friends, no-one understood.
"why does it matter to you? i want to get lots of things done that’ll make you lots of money and that really should be your only concern."
she narrows her eyes at you, “y/n, i couldn’t care less about the money. look around.” she gestures to her office, all the expensive trinkets and decorations she has lying around, “i have enough money to support a family for 100 lifetimes. what i do care about are my clients-”
you burst, “what do you know?! you’ve probably spent your whole life being adored for everything you do. people probably fall over themselves just to get a chance to talk to you! you’ll never understand how it feels to be unloved, to hate yourself when you wake up every morning and look in the mirror, to think everyone’s always talking about you, looking at you, judging you, you’re so beautiful you couldn’t ever know!”
she’s surprised at your sudden increase in volume. you had kept all of this in for so long, you felt like if you ever told anyone else they’d just think you were complaining but it was so much more debilitating than that. you couldn’t talk to your parents or your friends out of fear they’d think you were too needy or attention-seeking or whatever. nayeon was the first stranger who had shown they cared for you and you took that as a sign to release all your years of pent up frustration at her.
“i- i’m sorry. i didn’t mean to explode like that i-“
“it’s okay y/n. i’m sorry you’ve had to feel like this for so long on your own. but i just want to say, i’m not one of those people. i know it’s hard to believe when you look at me and what i’ve accomplished, but i find it hard to believe no-one loves you. and sure i judged you when i first saw you but not negatively. i told you i thought you were what i thought to be the perfect model for other people’s procedures and i was curious what you wanted to change about that.”
she’s collected herself and responds to you calmly, only with the curiosity of a scientist in her eye.
you’re unsure how to respond to her, feeling more than a little awkward now after your accidental outburst.
you attempt to clear your throat to start, “right… um so-“
“why don’t you take off your clothes and show me what you’d like to have done?”
you blush a bright red at her response, nodding slightly as you both stand and you begin to strip. you leave your underwear on as she stands in front of you, running her eyes over your body.
“um… so i guess if we’re starting from the bottom… i wanted to slim my calves down and shape them a little better… obviously um my ass i’d like to be a little rounder-“ you gesture to your various body parts as you talk, and she’s nodding, eyes focused, hands reached out as you feel goosebumps litter your skin when she gently probes the areas you're talking about.
"would you mind taking off your underwear? i just need to get an estimate of what you're talking about."
you blush again as you nod shyly, peeling the offending piece of item off you and turning as she prods and pokes again.
"um... yeah so i was also thinking a tummy tuck? just to tighten all the skin here-"
the feeling of her fingers on your body is slowly driving you insane. you're shivering a little as she runs her hand along your lower stomach, humming a little.
"um also like y'know, a boob job-"
she gestures for you to take off your bra and you do so, now standing completely naked in front of the doctor.
her hands come up and cup them, your nipples are hardening in the cool air of her office, "what size were you thinking?"
"i-i- u-um-" she squeezes a little and you take a deep inhale, trying to calm yourself, your eyes glued to the ceiling as she fondles you, "m-maybe one up?"
she hums and you feel a thumb brush across a nipple whether intentionally or unintentionally and you're suddenly clenching your thighs together praying she doesn't notice.
"so also um arm lifts, a face lift, kinda wanna hollow out my cheeks a little more and maybe highlight my cheekbones? lip fillers and a new nose, all of my scars obviously, and probably a brow lift too..."
her hands are on your face now, cupping your cheeks and she's close enough you can see the small specks of gold in her eyes and the little mole under her left eyebrow. your breath hitches as her eyes meet yours, they're so full of wonder and curiosity and you're reminded of the fact that you're very naked right now and standing in front of an extremely pretty woman.
she hums again, eyes dropping to your nose, than your lips, and you unconsciously wet your lips in tension, watching as her eyes trace the action.
then all of a sudden she's gone, moving back towards her chair and turning on her monitor. you quickly scramble for your clothes, hurriedly putting everything back on as you join her, blushing at the slightly sticky feeling between your legs.
"okay so we can do everything you just said. i'm going to need a few references-"
"you can use yourself for most of them."
she raises an eyebrow at you, a slight lift in the corner of her mouth.
"i appreciate the compliment y/n but if you're going to play that game then i'd like to say i wouldn't want to be sitting here discussing what to change about you in the first place."
"what would you be doing then?"
there's a glint in her eyes and you swallow, "helping you realise how there's nothing to change. eventually i'd get you to help me take a few pictures maybe, as reference for future customers who come in."
"and how would you do that?"
"how would i make you feel beautiful?" she's standing up and rounding her desk, taking her glasses off and placing them on her table, and you're looking up at her feeling strangely defiant.
"well yeah it'd be pretty hard knowing how much i hate myself-"
her arms now bracket the sides of your chair and she's leaning down with a clear smirk on her face.
"i'd touch along here," she's trailing one of her hands up your arm, leaving goosebumps in her wake, "here," she reaches your neck, then up to your face, leaning in to speak into your ear now, "everywhere just so you know exactly what i'm talking about. and i'd make you feel so good like you've never felt before, and i'd keep doing that until you realise just how crazy you drive me."
your eyes are lidded when you speak up again, voice hoarse and deep, "try it."
she's all in your space now, climbing into into your lap, lips closing around your ear lobe as she sucks. your eyes close and you groan a little when her hips meet yours, tilting your head back distantly wondering how the fuck you got yourself in this situation but quickly shaking that thought off when you feel her move towards your neck, licking and sucking.
soon enough she's moving up your jaw and towards your lips, one hand on your shoulder, the other one at your waist. she stops just short of your lips with a little smirk on her face as you share the same air.
your eyes meet her in a blaze and you surprise her when you yank her down, she moans when that brings your hips together even closer and you capture her lips with impatient want. her hands are tangling into your hair now, pulling lightly as your lips slide against each other, your breath hitching when she licks a tongue along your top lip.
“these- fucking- lips-“ she’s breaking away between kisses for air, panting softly.
“i can’t believe- you’d want to do anything- when i could kiss these- all fucking day-“
she’s breaking away again, leaving you chasing as she places pecks all across your face, “new nose? please this slant is perfect. these cheeks are adorable and these eyebrows shape your pretty pretty face just right-“ she’s kissing every inch of your skin, moving back down to your neck and nipping at your collarbone.
her hands are at the bottom of your shirt, sneaking up to caress the lines of your stomach and you let out a sharp inhale when one hand comes unashamedly up to cup your breast.
“how could you be making those pretty sounds if this wasn’t your body i was touching hmm?” she’s lifting your shirt over your head, sliding her hands everywhere.
"breast implants?" she scoffs as she brings her hands behind your back to unclasp your bra, flinging it behind her and moving her hands straight to cup your tits. "please darling look how perfectly these fit in my hands. and the way they spill out between my fingers if i squeeze like this-" you moan unabashedly now when she gropes and grasps.
"god i could just hold these all day-" she's dipping down, a tongue tracing the top of your breast, the hot feeling against your skin driving you absolutely mad as you roll your hips against her with a whimper.
she pushes you back down roughly with her hips, looking up at you, her hands never stopping her fondling at your breasts, she is obscene. "don't do that now sweetie. i'm meant to be taking care of you and showing you just how pretty you are to me. so you're gonna sit there and look pretty while i do exactly that mmk?"
she's taking a nipple into her mouth now, licking and sucking, and you hiss when she bites down softly, feeling her mouth turn upward at the sound.
she lavishes your breasts, leaving you quivering and flushed in her wake, she makes small comments in between periods of sucking marks into the side of your tits, her tongue has never once left your body since she started, wet trails leading everywhere.
she's kissing down your stomach now and you suck in a breath as she sinks to her knees in front of you, looking up at you with those curious eyes, completely clothed still in her white labcoat, mouth wrecked and lips in a pretty little pout. she's spreading your legs and you're fighting a little against her, embarassed at the fact that her face would be so close to you and she could see every little detail of your arousal.
she tuts but shuffles back a little, letting you close your legs again but she picks one up and starts feeling along your calf, pressing gently at the muscles there and feeling you unclench in relief.
"these don't need anything done either. you're just a little tense here. some stretching and a good massage will work those kinks right out and you won't even notice them anymore."
she's pressing down on all the pressure points to release the tension in your calves, and you moan slightly in pleasure as your head lolls back, eyes squeezing shut, cool air hitting your wet breasts, nipples perking at the lack of attention and you shudder.
you're helpless when she starts spreading your legs again, miraculous hands moving up to your knees, still kneading and massaging, then up to your thighs.
then her mouth is on you again, hot and wet against the inside of your thighs and you're squirming, breathing picking up as the tension in the room multiplies tenfold. you don't dare look down at her afraid the sight may just push you over the edge.
but hands come shooting down to her head when that tongue, that fucking tongue, licks a gentle strip from the bottom of your cunt to the top, stalling at the hood of your clitoris and pushing it back only to place a small peck on the nub and moving back down to drink in the essence flowing out of you.
"f-fuck dr im i-i-"
she stops, looking up at you with a quirk of an eyebrow, a lustful darkness seeping into her curious eyes, "call me that again."
"doctor im?"
she's back to lapping at your pussy and you moan, closing your thighs around her head, one arm raised up and holding on to the back of the chair to keep yourself upright.
"so fucking delicious. my god i could just tie you up and eat you out for hours."
you're whining, cunt clenching at her words but she's prying your folds open with her fingers, enamoured by the way your hole only seems to leak more with every action she takes, then she's licking into you and you cry out at the feeling. her tongue lashing against your walls as she moans at the taste of your core, sending shockwaves of pleasure right up your spine.
you can't take much more but she's lifting your ass and gripping, tugging you closer to her so she can explore even more of you.
eventually her mouth comes up for air and she's grabbing and kneading your ass cheeks, "these?-" her voice is a lot more gravelly now, thick with lust and she's panting slightly, "you don't know how perfect these are. they're the exact amount of firmness but still soft enough that i could use your ass like a pillow and you're talking about shape?" she sends a light slap up into you and you gasp, only clenching even harder around nothing, "just look how that rippled for me darling you need to know how fucking hot you look right now and how much you turn me on just from looking at you."
she almost sounds like she's growling with the low tenure of her voice and she's tugging you back into her, kissing your clit and sucking it into her mouth.
"d-doc- i- i- oh fuck- i'm gonna-"
she offers no response, just humming into you and you rut your hips into her at the vibration, completely helpless and positively dripping.
soon enough you're spilling over, coming with a moan, your back arching and she's licking you through it, you're completely blissed out heaving in effort before you slump back down into the chair.
but she doesn't stop. you're feeling overstimulated as she continues her assault on your pussy and you're lightly tugging her hair upwards trying to get her to come up but she's shaking her head no, and then shaking her head to tongue you side to side and you're building up all over again.
"w-wait d-doc i- i can't i just- doc-"
she looks up at you then, and holy fuck you almost came again at the sight. her slightly disheveled hair, eyes glazed over, mouth open and tongue sticking out absolutely ruined.
she's moving back up your body, kissing along places she's already left her mark on. "what did i say about sitting still and looking pretty baby? hmm?" a long finger finds its way to your folds and you're clenching in anticipation. "i said i'd make you cum as many times as it'll take for you to realise you're hot right? i'm not one to take back my words sweetie."
"f-fuck i- oh shit doc i-"
she's pushing into you torturously slow, a teasing smirk against your neck, "hm?"
"nggh fuck please- please i need- fuck- i need you- oh shit-"
"this?" another finger joins her but she stays hilted inside you, unmoving as you wriggle under her.
"ah- y-yes! p-please move- oh fuck i- please-" you're babbling at this point, almost incoherent but she's sliding out of you and then pushing in oh so wonderfully.
she's back to mouthing at your nipple, the sensitive nubs sending flares of heat down to your core, "so so pretty."
"i- yes- i- oh fuck-"
her fingers are entering you at a faster pace now, the wet sounds of your fucking filling the empty office.
all of a sudden there's a loud knock at the door and she stills inside you, looking up in slight alarm, nipple popping out of her mouth.
"doctor im your 3pm is here."
you can't help but clench around her fingers and she whips her head back down to you, wiggling her fingers a little at the feeling and you gasp.
"tell them to wait! i'll be another 10 minutes."
she's started moving inside you again and you bite your lip trying to keep quiet.
"alright." the sound of footsteps walking away is quiet before nayeon is driving into you again with renewed vigour.
she's hitting the spot inside you that's making your toes curl, her lips are back around your nipple sucking and licking, and then she's using a hand and pressing down lightly on your lower stomach stimulating your g-spot both from the inside and outside and you cry out around her as you come.
you're panting as she brings you back down, caressing your face and pushing your hair back, moving up to leave kisses all across your face again.
you're only able to open your eyes after a minute or so, blinking dazedly at her as she smiles and plants a kiss on your lips.
"listen... if you want... how about you give me a chance to make you feel loved, to show you how beautiful you are, and if you still feel that way about yourself afterwards, then i'll do all those surgeries for you personally, no more questions asked." she's soft against you, and you can't help but nuzzle your head into her neck, still a little boneless.
"okay."
"okay?" her eyes are bright as she pulls back so she can face you.
you nod with a lazy smile and she's hugging you, kissing your face again murmuring sweet you're so prettys and you did so wells.
too soon and she's lifting herself off you, helping you back into your clothes and standing by the door.
"i'm sorry that i had another appointment. i totally forgot. but i've got your number in my files so i'll message you after work today okay? maybe if you're free tonight we can grab something to eat together?"
you're shy as she's sending you off, nodding a small yes.
"okay don't ghost me now yeah?"
you blush, "y-yeah. see you dr. im."
"nayeon please. you can call me nayeon when we're not... y'know-" she sends you a wink and you only blush more, only barely stopping yourself from bowing to her in apology.
"alright n-nayeon."
"there we go. i'll see you in a bit okay y/n?"
you smile and walk out the door she's opened for you. it would still be a long way before you could be happy with yourself, but you thought maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to postpone your surgeries for a little and see what im nayeon likes so much about you.
#nayeon#im nayeon#nayeon x reader#twice nayeon#nayeon smut#twice smut#nayeon x f!reader#nayeon x fem!reader#twice x reader#twice x f!reader#twice x fem!reader#twice imagines#nayeon imagines#royaltozaki
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If you’re still taking prompts, could I ask for “please come get me” with Steddie?
I’ve read over all your other angst prompts and just about died this morning, you’re so good at the pain!!
Hello! :D Thank you for the prompt! I'm afraid this one is a little heavier on the comfort than the hurt, so perhaps not as much pain, but if you've been binging what I've written so far, maybe that's a good thing?? But anyway, I hope this is alright!
[Warning for implied child neglect/emotional abuse. Nothing really happens in the fic, but just as a heads up]
Angsty-ish Prompt List
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Eddie shouldn’t be hearing this. This isn’t a conversation meant for spectators.
“I know you just got back from a trip, I just–” Harrington says into the receiver of the payphone, clinging to the handset as he practically wilts against the useless ‘privacy wall’ next to it. “I’m sorry, I was just hoping you could give me a ride home.”
All Eddie had wanted to do was cut the pep rally like any self-respecting social outcast would, except he couldn’t just ditch and go home; it’s Friday, and he has Hellfire after this. But the last thing he’d expected while loitering around outside, waiting for the pep rally to end, had been to stumble across Steve Harrington on the phone, practically begging someone for a ride home.
“No, I drove myself here today, I’m just not sure I can drive home.” Harrington pauses, then sighs. “No, Dad, this is a pep rally, I haven’t been drinking.” Whatever comes down the line next makes his posture snap straight almost immediately, before he hunches back in on himself with a wince and a hand pressed to his forehead. “No, sir. I’m sorry, sir.”
This is weird. This is so weird. Harrington is meant to be cocky – confident and in-charge and at ease, not curled around a payphone in the same way a kicked puppy tries to protect itself even as it asks someone for more attention.
Someone who is apparently his dad.
It’s just – weird. It’s like how you know a lemon is a citrus fruit, just the same as an orange, but the second you peel off the rind, you feel like you’ve seen something forbidden. Lemons aren’t meant to be peeled that way, and Harrington isn’t meant to look close to tears while trying to get someone to drive him home.
“I – I’m sick. I mean, it’s – I have a migraine,” Harrington explains haltingly. “No, it’s not just – yeah, my head hurts, but if it was just that, I swear I wouldn’t bother you, I just – I’m dizzy, and my vision’s all blurry, so I’m not sure I can drive, and I don’t…”
Shit, that sounds kind of fucked up. Eddie frowns, leaning against the wall he’s been peering around, now definitely intentionally eavesdropping. Harrington is frowning, too, rubbing a frustrated hand over his face.
“Tommy and I don’t hang out anymore, we haven’t in over a year,” Harrington says, then carries on a little more quietly, a little more subdued, “and there isn’t really anyone else here I can catch a ride with, either.”
Eddie will admit he hasn’t been paying a whole lot of attention, but anyone who doesn’t live under a rock knows that Harrington’s popularity had taken a bit of a hit last year, when he’d ditched Hagan and Perkins and decided to be a bit less of a dick. And then this year – well, even if Hargrove hadn’t crowed enough about the fight between the two of them, the state of Harrington’s face back in November had spoken volumes. Still, Eddie hadn’t been aware the condition of Harrington’s social life was so dire.
“I’m not – I’m not making this up, the doctor talked to you about this, he– I’m not trying to talk back, I just– Dad, please, can you just – please, come get me,” Harrington stutters through what sounds very much like a losing argument before going silent altogether, pressing one hand over his eyes as he lets his head hang, the other still holding the handset near his ear. “I understand,” he says dully after a minute. “I’m sorry. I’ll – I’ll figure it out… Yes, sir.”
It doesn’t seem like there’s much left to say after that. Harrington hangs up the phone and leans up against the adjacent wall before sliding down and sitting himself right there on the ground, knees drawn up and face in his hands.
Shit.
Eddie ducks back around the corner, gnawing on his lip, caught in indecision. He shouldn’t have overheard any of that, intentionally or otherwise, but now that he has, he can’t just – not do something.
Can he?
He tries to tell himself it’s not his problem, that Harrington’s certainly never done him any favors, even if he’d never been a dick to Eddie specifically, but it doesn’t work. All Eddie can see is the defeated slump of Harrington’s shoulders, the helpless way he’d just sort of dropped to the ground, the way he’d quietly admitted there’s no one else he can ask for a ride – Eddie’s always had a soft spot for the lonely ones.
But when he rounds the corner, prepared to come up with some bullshit excuse as to why he’s out here and willing to drive Harrington home, he finds that Harrington is – gone.
Eddie glances around, but he doesn’t seem to be anywhere. Poof, vanished while Eddie had been too busy trying to decide what to do.
Well, damn.
Distantly hoping that Harrington had, indeed, figured something out, Eddie tries to put the incident out of his mind. The pep rally will be over soon, and that means Hellfire will begin, and he needs to get his head in the game.
He has no real reason to think on the incident after that, and he’s fairly successful at shoving it somewhere into the back of his mind until nearly two years later, in a setting so far removed from that spring day at the school that it might as well be in another life.
Eddie has to extricate himself from a few fans (actual fans; apparently, rumors of Satanism and returning form the dead will do wonders for the reputation of your metal band) in order to get up from the table settled near the back of The Hideout. Gareth, Jeff, and Oliver are all accounted for, enjoying their drinks and chatting with whoever’s descended upon them after their set, but Steve had disappeared ten minutes ago and has yet to make a reappearance.
Ten minutes isn’t all that long, Eddie knows logically, but after last year, after everything, it still feels a little too long. If he finds Steve and Steve tells him he’s fine, then that’s great, Eddie will leave him be. But he just wants to check.
The bathroom is a bust, empty but for one drunk swaying precariously in front of a urinal, so Eddie heads outside, where, around the side of the building, settled on the ground in a triangle of sodium-glow orange thrown off by a nearby streetlight, he finds his quarry.
Steve is sitting with his back to the rough wood façade of the bar, his knees drawn up in front of him and his head leaned back against the wall behind him. His eyes are closed, but there’s a little pinch of tension between his brows, and Eddie is abruptly reminded of that day, eons ago and not really that long ago at all, when all Steve had wanted was for someone to care enough to give him a ride home when he’d been sick.
Eddie finds his ass on the concrete right next to Steve before he even has the conscious thought to go over and sit down.
“Doing okay, sweetheart?” Eddie asks, picking up one of Steve’s hands from where it’s resting on his own knee (it’s safe enough right here, Eddie knows; someone would have to actively be looking for them to spot them where they’re tucked away).
If Steve is surprised to find Eddie beside him, he doesn’t show it. He turns to look at Eddie in the low light, offering him a fond little smile.
“I’m good. It was just getting to be a little much in there, so I came out here for a break,” he says.
Things like excessive noise and heat—say, the likes of which might be experienced at a concert in a crowded bar (or maybe a high school pep rally)—tend to be migraine triggers for Steve, so why he continues attending shows at The Hideout is beyond Eddie. He’s tried telling him that he doesn’t have to come, but Steve still insists he wants to make it to every performance that he can.
Eddie squeezes Steve’s hand. “You wanna head out?”
Steve shakes his head. “You’re having a good time. I don’t want to take you away from that.”
“I’m not going to be having a good time if you’re miserable.” Eddie reaches up and cups Steve’s cheek in his hand, keeping him facing in Eddie’s direction. “You’re a priority for me, you know that, right? Say the word, and we’ll go home.”
It doesn’t seem like Steve has anything to say to that; instead, he just stares at Eddie with something like wonder, as if Eddie’s just done anything more amazing than promise Steve that he’ll never have to beg for basic consideration.
“Besides,” Eddie goes on, if for no other reason than to shift the sudden weight of Steve’s reverence, “it’s not like it would be a hardship.” He leans in, pressing a kiss to Steve’s willing mouth before he continues, speaking so close that their lips are brushing. “Getting to take you home, take you to bed, lie there in the dark, just the two of us…”
Steve presses in for another kiss, long and lingering, before pulling away.
“Let’s stay a little longer,” he says. “Jeff owes me a beer, anyway.”
“Y’know,” Eddie pauses with a grunt of effort as Steve stands and uses their joined hands to pull Eddie up after him, “the only reason you knew the movie he was referencing—and, thus, the only reason he owes you a beer—is because I made you watch it.”
“And? What do you want, a medal?” Steve snarks.
“Well,” Eddie drawls, glancing Steve up and down, “some token of appreciation wouldn’t be remiss.”
Steve raises an unimpressed eyebrow at Eddie. “It would be if we did it in the alley next to a bar.”
“Wow, Harrington, mind in the gutter much? I only meant a beer,” Eddie sniffs, all exaggerated offense.
“Sure you did,” Steve says. “Now c’mon; one more beer, and then… home?”
“You got it, sweetheart,” Eddie says, offering one more quick kiss in hopes of putting any hesitation out of Steve’s mind. “One more beer, and then home.”
#rajumat#steddie#eddie munson#steve harrington#stranger things#eddiesteve#I think this one is a little rough but I dunno man I'm fond of it#solar wrote#answers from solar
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GETAWAY CAR — rockstar!e.m. x f!reader
CHAPTER SIX: ALL TOMORROW'S PARTIES
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✦ summary: in which the truth about steve's party is revealed and eddie leaves reader another note (wc: 8.6k+)
✦ warnings — angst, ANGST, arguments, FIST FIGHT?!?, HUGE WARNING FOR BRUISES AND AN ABSIVE RELATIONSHIP!!!, mention of bruises, mention of shoving someone, BILLY IS ABSIVE, if this content makes you uncomfortable lmk so i can make a summary of it, or just skip the flash back (but its like half of the chapter>:() chrissy is horrible, BILLY is even more horrible, chrissy says some classist shit!!, eddie and p are an old married couple, drinking, smoking/weed
✦ pairings — rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader, past billy hargrove x fem!reader
✦ authors note — @andvys ily thank u for always being so helpful w everything i hope u like this chapter bb!! not proof-read srry ignore mistakes !! and as i said this is a heavy chapter so lmk if any of u need a summary on the flashback. and im so sorry for making chrissy such a villain i actually rlly love her characterr >:(
anyway ily all pls interact + like + reblog to support me! i'd also LOVE LOVE to chat about anything abt this series it literally is my baby!! pls dont hesitate to send me an ask about anything mwah thank you for reading💗
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FIVE YEARS AGO.STEVE’S PARTY.
Twenty minutes.
You’ve been waiting in line for the bathroom at Steve’s stupid party for the last twenty minutes. Even plenty of people ahead of you had frustratedly groaned and left by now.
But you weren’t going to give up that easy.
A muffled string of curses filtered through the door before she turned the lock. The door creaked open slightly, revealing a glimpse of Chrissy's face.
She gave you a slight smile, and cluelessly, your face lit up. “Oh, thank god! Can you please let me in, I left my jacket in there.” You giggled, words tangled to each other as you made a clumsy attempt to slip past her, but she closed the door further.
With furrowed brows, you looked up at her. “Uh, I’m busy in here,” She giggled nervously, head tilting towards the side. “Oh,” You murmured.
“OH!” The realization was slow to hit you. She was with someone. You started grinning childishly. “Who’s the lucky guy?” You quipped your brows excitedly, causing Chrissy to stammer.
You tried to pry open the door, brows still wiggling but Chrissy didn’t let you, mumbling something about being embarrassed. “Oh, come on, Chrissy…” You murmured, still grappling with her to open the door.
“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about—” you began with a childlike giggle, attempting to open the door even wider.
Your giggles were quick to die down when the door fell open, no words dared to come out of your lips as you finally saw who Chrissy was with.
Billy.
Soberness overcame you just at the sight of Billy’s disheveled hair, and Chrissy’s swollen plump lips.
Your best friend and your boyfriend.
Your eyes blinked rapidly, desperately wishing it was all a hallucination. The reality of the situation was slow to hit you, your vision blurred uncontrollably, throat tightening, and causing you to feel stuck, almost paralyzed.
With a gulp, you were quick to take a step back, ignoring them calling your name as you turned back, forgetting all about the jacket you were supposed to get back when your legs felt so wobbly. You could hear the chatter outside the door get louder, everyone else taking a peak at what just happened. The whispers and gasps of everyone around you felt like mocking echoes.
You didn’t even know what to feel first. Anger? Jealousy? Sadness? Embarrassment?
It was a mix of all four and your chest hurts, tears welled up in your eyes, burning down your cheeks as your breaths came in shallow gasps, you couldn’t make any sense of it, and you couldn’t fucking understand it.
You felt it, felt betrayal like a physical sensation, like there was a void in your chest. And you could sense that Billy was running after you, trying to catch up to you, but you resisted the temptation to slow down, your anger acting as a protective shield.
“Baby, I swear nothing happened.” He exclaimed, desperation lacing his voice. Your eyes rolled instinctively, head tuning out the words that were too little, too late.
“Please, just listen to me she kissed me I didn’t! I tried to push her off—” You shouldn’t turn around, you definitely shouldn’t turn around and give him that satisfaction.
But you do.
“For twenty minutes?!? You tried to push her off for twenty fucking minutes?” You yell back bitterly.
“It isn’t what you think, please just let me explain!”
“Twenty fucking minutes, Billy!” You spat, pain quick to turn into anger. “Do you really think I’m that dumb?” Your fingers discarded your hair in anger, everything you knew to be true wasn’t anymore.
You knew what you had with Billy was fucked up, it wasn’t a normal nor a healthy relationship, but it was familiar and you were used to it, used to him. A relationship with this many ups and downs became your version of normalcy, even though it shouldn’t have.
No matter what happened, you thought he loved you, all those promises he whispered into your ear while you slept comfortably on his chest, all the times he murmured that he loved you, that he could never imagine being with anyone else, a whole fucking lie.
And it hurt.
Because you knew how hard it would be to walk away from this. You knew you couldn’t break away from him. You needed something to desperately pull you away. Show you that you deserved better than this.
No one would love you more than he did. He told you that a thousand times because it was true. He would do anything and everything for you. And you didn’t know why that enticed you, why being in such a fucked up situation hurt you in the best way possible, like an intoxicating yet destructive obsession.
And anyway, why would anyone even love you? You were a mess, a fuck up, nothing you did ever amounted to anything, and you knew that, you knew you were destined to be this way, to be with someone who constantly hurt you. Nothing you could do would be enough to get you out of the mess that was your mind.
“I would never do that to you, never.” His eyes were glossy, mirroring yours, you could tell when he lied to you, and this wasn’t one of those times. And you hated that your gaze softened with that because you wanted to believe him.
You knew he was flirty, you knew that the second you started dating Billy; from the countless times he flirted with the waitress when he took you to dinner, how he always got a little too close with the female lifeguards, how he charmed all the moms in Hawkins with a slight wink, it was a script you knew all too well. And you kept your mouth shut, tolerated it, only because he always brushed it off as nothing.
You didn’t mind it because he loved you, he told you he did, and you believed him. The countless arguments, the accidental bruises, name-callings, punches in the wall, you forgave it all. Because he loved you, he told you that love made him this way, it made him this insane and angry. And you let him make you believe that his erratic behavior was love, until today.
Because this was different, this was Chrissy. Your supposed best friend. Yes, Billy probably didn’t start making out with her, but he surely wasn’t eager to finish it either.
The betrayal cut deeper than any argument or bruise; it was a wound inflicted by the two people you believed loved you unconditionally.
You let out a sarcastic chuckle, arms crossing against your chest as you could feel your face burn up with anger, tears drying out. “You are something else,” you uttered, disappointment and resentment flavoring your words.
“I don’t want to ever see you again, Billy, and I fucking mean it.”
“Calm down,” he whispered, a feeble attempt to pacify you.
“No! I am not going to fucking ‘calm down’. You—you fucking cheated on me w-with Chrissy!” Your voice wavered, and you hated it, your anger wasn’t powerful enough to wash away the pain you felt, and tears were stinging your eyes again.
“Jesus how many times do I have to tell you she fucking kissed me! I-I didn’t fuckin’ cheat!” He defended but you shook your head. “And, anyway, didn’t you fucking kiss that freak?”
A lump formed in your throat, a bitter taste accompanying the memory. Yes, you did. But it was after one of your infamous breaks with Billy, the two of you were broken up. Eddie and you promised each other that it was nothing, that it would just complicate things between the two of you. And you knew, if Billy ever found out about it, he would not leave it alone, he wouldn’t let you hang out with him. He would mess with him till no end. And you didn’t want Eddie involved in it. Ever.
“I told you we didn’t!” You lied through your teeth, it didn’t matter now. What you did could never compare to what he fucking did. Ever. But you were starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, Chrissy spreading that rumor was not an accident, at all.
Anger simmered, building like a storm inside you. “Don’t try to shift the blame on me, you fucking kissed her!”
“I didn’t—”
“Did you not fucking kiss her back you asshole?” You interrupted, the surge of anger propelling you forward. Your hands found his shoulders, pushing him roughly. Billy stammered, opening his mouth to speak. “I-I only for like a minute, then I fuckin’ pulled away, I swear!” He defended himself, making you huff angrily.
“It’s over, Billy.” You muttered, gaze meeting his.
“I mean it.” You added, his sympathetic gaze was quick to turn cold, and it made you feel uneasy, how comfortable he was going from gentle to rough so quickly.
His lips twisted into a cynical skepticism, “for how long this time? Eight hours? Two fucking days? A week?” There was that lump in your throat again. Billy didn’t believe that you could leave him, and you felt that tight, unexplainable feeling sink into your chest, he thought you’d stay with him no matter what, like a fucking object that he could do whatever he wants to. It’s sickeningly insulting, your hand raises to slap him, but he’s faster.
“I don’t think so, sweetheart.” His harsh grip on your wrist hurts, but what hurts more is the fresh bruise he left on your forearm two days ago, another fight that got too grabby.
“L-let me go,” you embarrassingly begged, wincing at his relentless grip. Your face scrunched with pain, eyes squeezing shut. The tenderness of the bruise made the slightest touch unbearable.
His hand twisted your wrist further, harsh hold squeezing more tears out of you than you realized. “B-billy,” you begged, again. Only then, Billy noticed your discomfort, swallowing hard before reluctantly releasing your arm. An emptiness replaced his hold, and your vision blurred as you tried to reassure yourself, fingertips gently tracing the purplish bruise.
“D-does forever work?” It comes out as a whisper, words tangling to each other when you recollect yourself from him, still trying to find the broken pieces he scattered, leaving without another word.
And he didn’t bother to run after you, watching your figure leave while guilt set in, the sight of that purple blotch on your arm, how you flinched at any contact, the way you closed up during arguments, it was all because of him. All because he couldn’t fucking help himself; his anger or his need for control.
He doesn’t escape the cycle.
A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you walked away, tears streaming down your face. Your hands shook as you wiped them away, the weight of everything breaking free in a flood of sobs.
You immediately make your way to the drink stand, praying to whatever god there is that no one else can perceive you for the rest of the night so that you can drown in your sorrows and drink all of it away.
You barely registered Chrissy approaching you between sobs and the harsh scoop of the 'pure fire,' as Steve called it, into the red cup clutched in your fists. “Can I talk to you?” Her voice, when it finally reached your ears, felt mocking, and carried a giddy undertone that enraged you more and more.
“No,” you scoffed, refusing to entertain the idea, turning your attention back to the sorrowful task of filling your cup.
“Come on, take a chill pill,” she attempted to joke, her usual signature line falling flat. Your glare, sharp as the knives you felt in your back, met her with anger. She huffed a sigh of breath.
“Please I’m sorry, just let me talk—”
“What the fuck do you want to talk about, huh?” You set the cup down harshly, the impact of it had the drink sloshing all over the surface, “the fact that you tried to kiss my boyfriend?” you interrupted with a spiteful look.
Her wavering sympathy dissipated at your accusation, eyes turning cold as she furrowed her brows. “What?” she hissed. “Tried? Is that what he told you?” She scoffed.
Your face scrunched. “I wouldn’t put it past you.” You spat back, you didn’t care if your words hurt her in the slightest, your thoughts were purely consumed by her betrayal.
“Excuse me?” Chrissy’s eyes narrowed.
“Jesus, Pinky are you really that fucking gullible?” She asked tilting her head almost mockingly.
“Or do you really think that highly of yourself?” Your mouth struggled to open, heart dropped to your stomach when you realized she didn’t even care.
“We were in that bathroom for twenty minutes, use your imagination.” That goddamn smirk curved on her lips, and you knew you have never felt this amount of pain before, it was insulting, to ever think you called her your friend.
“Oh, you are such a fucking-” You could feel your blood boiling, almost ready to attack her, your drunken haze giving you enough courage.
But her annoying tone interrupted you, “Did you really think you were perfect? That you were enough for Billy?”
“What did you think? That he would want a fucking charity case like you?” The tears pooled your eyes again, but you weren’t going to let her see it, so you held them in, clenching your fists as your breath caught in your throat. All of her insults became a deafening background noise to your ears. “Newsflash, Pinky you have junkies for parents. You’re too messed up. Even for Billy.”
The heat rushed to your cheeks at the last insult, earning a visceral reaction because of how cruel she was. Disgust and anger overtook your senses quicker than you intended them to, you felt small, and so fucking stupid.
Regret gnawed at you – You should’ve never let her in. You should’ve never let her comfort you. You should’ve never told her anything. It was all your fucking fault. For trusting anyone that came in your way.
Just because you wanted to feel loved, just because you wanted to fill that void that your parents left. And it was so ironic, considering they couldn’t give two shits about you, yet your deepest wound would always be them.
“You’re so fucking pathetic, Chrissy.” You spat, masking all of your emotions. You had mastered it at this point. You didn’t care what she said about you, she could keep her mouth running, because she was dead to you. Maybe you could’ve forgiven her for the whole Billy thing because fuck him too, he was no saint, right?
But making fun of your parents was one line she couldn’t cross.
“You’re more fit for that trailer trash freak.” Scratch that. Making fun of Eddie was one line she couldn’t fucking cross. Eddie. She couldn’t breathe near him if she wanted to, she didn’t deserve it.
Your teeth grounded together, and fury fueled your rise to your feet. “Don’t ever call him that again.” The words slipped between gritted teeth, the realization of how close you had walked to her only dawned as you unintentionally cornered her.
She looked taken aback, brows pinched together. “What are you gonna do? Go all trailer trash on me too?” She chuckled, annoyingly loud.
You shouldn’t. You fucking shouldn’t.
But she also shouldn’t have insulted Eddie.
You are ready to lunge at her, feet planted closer as your hands are formed as fists at your side, and just as you’re about to take another step, a harsh arm yanked you away. Seconds away from getting that satisfaction, and just like that, you’re ripped away from it.
“What the—” You turned swiftly to see the culprit, as you harshly shook off the hold on you, your bruises still hurt, causing loud whines to part from your lips.
Steve.
Chrissy was back in your face, mocking laughter dancing in her eyes. “God, you’re predictable.” The laughter stung, and the pressure of your anger almost built up in your jaw.
“Fuck you, you stupid—” You try again. No luck. Of course, Steve, with an unyielding grip, dragged you away.
Chrissy walked past, reveling in the scorned look etched on your face. She paused, turning with a smirk. “Oh, and next time you get a ‘freak accident’, make sure you don’t forget your jacket.” She pointed toward the fresh bruise on your forearm, courtesy to Billy who grabbed you a little too hard during another heated argument. Then she threw the jacket right next to you, on the floor landing with a mocking thud as she left with an irritating cackle.
Impressively, Steve picked it up while maintaining his hold on you. “Let me go!” Your almost-scream echoed, his hands were unintentionally grazing the tender bruise, and it fucking hurt.
Only when he knew Chrissy was out of sight did he release his grip, and you shook him off with an exasperated huff.
“What the fuck?!?” You questioned, gaze burning with fury.
“Right back at you, what the fuck was that, Pinky?” He asked, tone more concerned than angry.
“Nothing,” you muttered. It was such an obvious lie that Steve rolled his eyes.
“That won’t work with me.”
In a defiant move, you grabbed the drink, aiming to drown the tension, but Steve intercepted, harshly putting it back down. A glare shot his way. “Will you leave me alone?”
“No.” He protested with a pinch of his brows. “So, tell me.”
“Steve,” you whined. You didn’t want to be interrogated by him, you knew he cared. But you just couldn’t handle it.
“I’m serious, you do realize this is my house, right?” His tone carried a veiled threat and you rolled your eyes at him. “I could kick you out any time I wanted to.”
Your gaze narrowed, disbelief etched across your face. "You wouldn’t do shit."
With a raise of his brows, Steve swiftly picked you up, slinging you over his shoulders. It all happened so fast that you weren’t quick to start softly punching his back and screaming.
God, he really was good at distracting you, so good that his little act almost coaxed a reluctant smile from your lips. “Put me down!” You yelled behind him, your fists landed on his back with a not-so-impactful force.
“Are you gonna tell me?” Steve asked, relishing the way you continued to thrash over his shoulder. Your face grew hotter every second, and with an annoyed huff, you finally nodded. “Yes, Jesus Christ!”
He gently lowered you to the ground, and a teasing glint danced in Steve's eyes as he quipped, "Atta girl." You responded with a scoff and a mock annoyed chuckle.
“So?” He questioned, arms crossing against his chest, his demeanor shifted, the playful atmosphere dissipating as his expression turned serious.
“I caught Chrissy and Billy in the bathroom.”
“What?” Genuine shock washed over Steve's features, his eyes widening in disbelief.
“Yeah I—”
“And she still had the nerve to say all those fucking things?”
Embarrassment surged, fluttering your cheeks hot. “You, uh, you heard those?” Steve responded with a quick nod.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Pinky, not with me.” He reassured you, his hand finding a comforting place on your waist, “she's the one who should be fuckin’ embarrassed. Jesus.”
“Thought she was supposed to be your friend,” Steve said, his gaze softening with empathy.
“Me too.” A sad chuckle escaped your lips.
His gaze lingered on the gnarly bruises decorating your arm, a visible wince reflecting in his expression. "And what about those?" he gulped, concern etching lines on his face.
You were quick to dismiss it with a wave, too quickly that of fucking course Steve knew something was wrong, you didn’t even dare to look at the bruises, or him in the eyes.
“Bike accident,” you muttered, lying through your teeth.
"Since when do you have a bike?" Steve questioned and gauged your reaction, he knew you were lying, you were avoiding his gaze, and you looked visibly nervous, but he didn’t want to push this. It was too personal, and this wasn’t the place for it. So, he understood, of course, he did. He or Nancy should’ve been the one you confided in. But you didn’t want to burden them with your problems.
“If—” Steve took a deep breath, choosing his words carefully. “If you ever need to talk about anything—and I mean anything—you can always talk to me. Hell, us! You can always talk to us, you know that, right?” His hand was quick to caress your back, gently, letting you know that he would always be there.
You nodded, but you wanted this pity party to be over, you wanted—needed Eddie. Just one hug from him. And maybe a joint.
“I-I know, thank you.” You hesitantly replied, stumbling over your words.
“You need anything?” He asked sincerely.
You shook your head softly. “No… but have you seen Eddie?”
“He was selling to some idiots on the porch, might still be there.” He shrugged.
You were quick to nod, you had to leave, immediately. You didn’t want to worry Steve. “Thanks, Stevie, see you around?” You hummed, managing a smile that he mirrored.
And with that you were quick to grab your drink, downing it with a hiss before you almost ran to the porch, you didn’t want to see Billy or Chrissy again.
You needed to find Eddie.
And god, was it hot, you didn’t know if it was because of everything that transpired in the last twenty minutes, or it was because of the alcohol flowing in your system but you were burning up.
And you didn’t want to wear your jacket.
You should have.
A harsh breeze of air hit you once you finally stepped on the porch, fresh yet biting, serving as a slap of reality that had your eyes watering, you didn’t know why, you didn’t know how, but the tears came immediately.
It was pathetic, really. You with the bruises, half-drunk, discovering your friend with your boyfriend, breaking up with your boyfriend, and then earning insults from the said friend who was hooking up with your boyfriend.
A rollercoaster of a fucking night, but it was just getting started.
Slouching on the porch stairs, your head hung low to your knees as you covered your face with shame, almost. Mind reeling in the worst way possible.
The insults stuck to it, Chrissy’s plump lips, Billy’s disheveled hair. His harsh grip on your arm. The way he mocked you. The insults Chrissy uttered. It was all a fucking mess. And you couldn’t handle any more of it.
All the emotions you pent up over the years wanted to flow through your eyes, ruining you, completely breaking you apart.
The red cup in your hand was crumpled roughly, each attempt to stifle your cries only intensified the shaking of the cup, spilling over to the stairs.
Where was he?
Where was Eddie?
Your mind was spinning and the only thing you could think of was him.
“Pinky?” The soft tone of his voice sliced through the tumult in your mind, and your head snapped up, eyes immediately watered at the sight.
There he stood, a boyish grin adorning his face, shaggy bangs falling over his amber eyes, a stupid leather jacket, and those stupid black jeans with chains attached to the hip. Him.
“Finally! Been lookin’ everywhere for you, sweetheart,” His voice wrapped around you like a reassuring embrace, but your foggy mind took a while for everything to register. When it did, you shot up, the world spinning dizzily, as you threw yourself into his arms. Sobs escaped freely, muffled against his jacket.
His voice immediately softened, gentle hands running through your hair as he cooed. “Hey.. hey… what happened?” His tone so sweetly sick that you couldn’t help but melt into him, letting his warmth take over.
Your breath caught up in your throat, and Eddie gently pulled away from the hug. Soft hands cupped your tear-streaked cheeks, grounding you with a simple touch. You gave into him, succumbing to his tenderness.
This was what you needed. And it was almost as clear as day. It should’ve always been him.
"I-I-" Your words stumbled over your sobs, the weight on your chest making it hard to breathe. Eddie's concerned eyes met yours, wiping away the tears on your cheek gently.
“Honey, hey, hey…” He caught your attention, his soothing voice breaking through the haze. His brows furrowed with worry, and you blinked open your eyes, focusing on him. "Breathe, can you do that for me, sweetheart?" Like a lifeline, his words pulled you back from the edge. Concern etched on his face, apparent from his brows creasing.
What the fuck happened? And who fucking did this to you?
Eddie had a good idea who did it: Billy. The very thought of that name sent a surge of anger through his veins. Hadn't this asshole put you through enough already? What could he have fucking done now?
You drew in a shuddering breath, and Eddie, recognizing your struggle, encouraged you while soothingly caressing your hair, calming you down further and further.
"Deep breaths, just like that. Breathe for me," he coaxed, and you obediently followed, shallow breaths gradually returning to normal as you focused on him.
His touch was gentle, hands still caressing your cheeks as he asked with genuine concern, "Are you doing okay now?" He asked, gaze mellow and lips overturned with worry
You nodded, but it wasn't convincing enough for him. As your hiccups persisted, you finally managed to articulate through the tears, "Chrissy."
Eddie's heart tightened, a quizzical look on his face. Chrissy? What did she have to do with this?
"Billy hooked up with Chrissy," you revealed, it was the most clear you had spoken to him and he still had a hard time understanding it.
His brows pinched together both in anger and confusion, his hold on you faltering once he registered your words.
So, Billy cheated on you?
Oh, now he was going to kill that bastard. Once he made sure you were okay, he was going to beat the shit out of him.
"What?" he exclaimed a little too loudly, his hold on you momentarily faltering in sheer shock.
"They—what?" he stammered.
"I caught them in the bathroom, Eddie, I—" Your tears blurred your vision again, and in frustration, you ran your hand through your hair.
That's when Eddie's eyes widened, and he pointed to something, asking, "What's that?"
You froze, desperately attempting to dismiss it, but Eddie wasn't having it. His hands gently flew to your forearm, and you flinched just in time, hastily trying to put on the jacket you should've already been wearing. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
Now he was going to ask so many questions, and you knew he wouldn’t let go like Steve did, and he would know if you lied, in a heartbeat.
He huffed quickly, ignoring your protests as he softly held onto your arm, just around the bruise, being careful not to cause any more pain. Your lip trembled in the process. Shit, shit, shit.
“Pinky…” he murmured, worry creasing his brows at the royal purple mark.
If Eddie knew, there was no turning back, there was no way he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. A part of you was happy about it—maybe he could pull you away, maybe everything would be okay.
But the other part of you was terrified. Because you know he wouldn’t think of your bruises as nothing like you did and like Billy kept assuring you, he wouldn’t just let this go like you would. He would stand up for you, and while you were grateful, you were equally scared.
“N-nothing,” you muttered, avoiding his intense gaze.
“That’s not nothing,” his hand extended, slowly but surely making you reveal the full extent of the huge, gnarly bruise on your arm, with another one freshly forming from the hold Billy had on you earlier. Fuck.
“Holy shit,” he muttered, trying to avoid the genuine gasp waiting to escape his lips, “What happened?” His gaze found yours.
“Bike accident,” you lied through your teeth, a stupid fucking lie. He would never buy it.
“You don’t have a bike.” He heaved a sigh of breath, the thought of these bruises forming because of Billy didn’t even form his mind, sure he was awful and an asshole, but Eddie never thought he would be that awful.
“I used Mike’s.” Another lie.
“Did something bad happen?”
“No!”
“Pinky,” he said it so seriously that you felt bad. “Tell me, please.” His tone was awfully worrying.
How the fuck were you going to tell him?
“We were arguing—”
“What?” He quickly snapped back, not at you, but at what you were implying. He could almost feel the color draining from his cheeks. You surely didn’t mean…
“It-it was nothing!” You defended with a dismissive wave, but it didn’t stop his eyes widening. “We just- we were just arguing, and-and then he tried to hold me but i-it was just a little tight!”
“H-he did this to you?” Eddie’s jaw clenched in an instant, and he tried his best not to react, trying not to show you how he could feel his blood practically boiling, you’d been through enough, you didn’t need to deal with calming him down now, too.
“No, no, it was just a little accident. It doesn’t matter!”
“Yes, it fucking does!”
“No, it doesn’t!” Frustrated, you spat back, a bit of your pent-up anger lashing out at Eddie.
“I’m going to kill that asshole,” He scowled, rising to his feet, eyes spitting fire and you were quick to have a strong hold on his arm. “N-no! Please.” You whispered, the desperation in your voice slicing through the tension. Your touch brings him back to the present, reminding him that you matter more than his impulsive reactions.
Eddie stopped with a sigh of breath, gaze returning to you, and you nervously licked your lips fingers combing through your hair to gather your thoughts. “Look, Eddie, I-I just needed to see you, I just needed to feel normal for a moment, please, not now.” Your gaze was sympathetic, you looked so hurt that Eddie’s brows scrunched in pain.
He opened his mouth, about to speak, about to tell you that he could protect you, but your brows furrowed, and that teary-eyed look returned on your face. “Please,” Desperate, tugging on his arm, and he had no choice but to nod. He could deal with this later.
“O-okay,” he muttered, meekly, swallowing the lump in his throat. His stomach churned in pain and anger when he realized that bastard actually fucking hurt you. And you really thought it was all okay…
“What do you need, honey?” Sickeningly sweet tone was back again, and it warmed you up, removing the coldness that sat on your chest.
“A hug…” You muttered, “and maybe a joint.”
That brought an unintentional grin to both of your faces. “C’mere.” He whispered, arms quick to wrap around you, holding you close. The subtle sway of his body rocked you in the promise that you were not alone, his gaze filled with concern and you couldn’t help but melt into him when he pressed a kiss onto your hair.
Too engulfed, too distracted to realize someone almost sprinting toward the two of you. Before you could process the approaching figure, a voice cut through the air, sharp and accusatory. “You didn’t kiss him? Bullshit!”
Confusion etched across your face as Eddie's protective arms tightened around you. “What the hell are you—”
Billy, possibly fueled by alcohol, swaggered toward you both with an air of aggression. “Stay the fuck away from my girlfriend.”
The scent of alcohol wafted from Billy, and Eddie’s unbridled rage was now on the surface, he wore a scowl, eyes daggering through Billy. His hand protectively remained on your hips, gently pulling you aside. You tried to look at him, silently pleaded that you didn’t want this, that you didn’t need him to do this. But it was no fucking use.
“She’s not your fucking girlfriend, dipshit.”
“Stay the fuck out of this, freak.” He ignored Eddie, rage now full on display as he fully turned toward you.
“What, you gonna deny it, or no?” Caught in a crossfire, you felt a surge of panic, and just as you were about to speak, Eddie did it for you.
“No, she’s not gonna fuckin’ deny it.” Your eyes widened, blinking rapidly to process what Eddie just confessed to.
“Eddie—” You tried but again, no use, Eddie took a step closer to him.
“We did kiss.” A smirk played on his lips, he was doing it on purpose, he wanted to get Billy to punch him.
“I fucking kissed her, asshole.” Shit, you internally cursed at him.
The tension thickened, you could see it in the ticking jaw and bulging vein on Billy's neck. He moved forward, poised to strike at Eddie. “You have the nerve you fuckin’ freak!” He stepped forward, attempting to get at him.
You acted quick, acting as a shield to Eddie, you didn’t care, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of you. You couldn’t handle that.
“Billy, don’t!” Your desperate plea was drowned out by the pounding music and the escalating chaos. Despite your efforts, Billy's aggression only intensified. A forceful push sent you sprawling to the unforgiving ground. Tiny rocks bit into your palms, and your knees scraped against the abrasive cement.
The impact on the ground sent a shockwave of pain through your body, a groan escaping your lips at the pain. Your world spun harder, you didn’t even know what to focus on first; the throbbing bruise on your cheek, Billy's kiss with Chrissy, the haze of your drunkenness, or the startling fact that Billy had pushed you to the ground. All of it made you dizzy.
You could barely blink when Eddie knocked Billy out cold, with three well-aimed punches, lunging at him the moment he laid hands on you, your gaze narrowed to make sure you saw it correctly.
Eddie was fine. Eddie was okay.
“Sweetheart, oh my god.” Eddie's voice cut through the haze, his worried tone a soothing balm. With a gentle scoop, he lifted you to your feet.
You didn’t want to be there when Billy woke up, some drunk idiot could help him. Or Chrissy would, for all you cared. And as if Eddie understood you, he quickly helped you move away from the scene, guiding you towards the row of parked cars, away from everything.
Once you were at a safer distance, Eddie tried to hold you, face etched in concern, as he ventured to ask, “You doing okay?”
The scowl you wore was anything but, “Why did you do that?!?” The words spat from your lips surprised him.
“Excuse me?” Eddie responded, his brow furrowing in confusion.
“Yo-you shouldn’t have told him!” Worry was etched all over your face, Eddie didn’t realize the consequences of what he did would have, but you did, oh, you did.
“D-do you realize what you just fucking did?” You wanted to cry, or you were already crying, you couldn’t tell when your cheeks were wet already.
“I—”
You interrupted him. “I-I don’t need this, I don’t need you to protect me.”
“I didn’t mean to make you upset—”
“I’m not upset!” Your scowl deepened, face flushed with frustration.
He tried to reach closer, tried to help you but you refused. “Don’t- just don’t!”
“I-I don’t need to be saved or protected, okay?” Your lips wobbled, “just l-leave me alone, Eddie.”
“What?” His face fell, lips downturned, as he struggled to comprehend your sudden detachment.
“Leave me alone, I-I can take care of myself!” You begged, but that anger sank on your chest, it made you bitter, made you want to close up entirely.
“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?” He spat, hands ruffling through his hair in anger. He took a step closer to you, stomach churning with the need to hold you.
“Pinky don’t you fucking see it? I care about you, you’re the only thing I care about in this goddamn world! How the fuck do you expect me to leave when you’re hurt?” His voice cracked, and your gaze softened with it.
“How do you expect me to not beat the shit out of that fucking asshole for doing that to you?” The raw emotion in his voice was enough to pierce through your defenses, making your heartache.
“I get it, I get that you’re tough, but shit—”
“I can’t just sit and watch you get hurt… I can’t.” The truth in his words hung heavy in the air, it was almost like a shift between the two of you, like the barrier finally dissipating, so that the true feelings would prevail.
Yet, despite that you pushed back, your own stubbornness overtaking you. “But I want you to leave me alone!”
You knew your words were nothing but a lie, you needed someone, him specifically. Sure, you had always been tough, but this? This was too much. And you knew he was the only one who could make you feel better, yet like an idiot, you pushed him away. That’s all you were good at, wasn’t it?
Your tears came back when you saw his face, defeated, all because of you. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve you. He deserved better, he shouldn’t be roped up in this mess. You had to push him away, you fucking had to.
He didn’t do anything but look at you. Really, really looked at you.
And you looked a mess, hair disheveled, mascara running down your cheeks, bruises on your arm, knees scrapped, lip wobbling, and you could barely stand. The worst possible condition he saw you in.
He knew what you were doing, you were pushing him away because you were afraid. A move, he always pulled, a move he was good at until he met you. He understood you, possibly in a way no one ever could.
Eddie, undeterred, stepped closer to you with a calm determination. Your head snapped up at the movement, eyebrows furrowed in confusion and frustration.
“No.” He muttered.
“What?”
“I’m not gonna leave.”
“But—”
“No but’s, wear your jacket, I’m taking you home.” His tone was clear, not harsh, not soft either. Just letting you know that he was here, he was always going to be here and he was not leaving, even if you tried so hard to make him.
“I-I don’t think I wanna go home.” You muttered.
“My place?” You nod softly.
You don’t know why it caused you to break down again, but it did, tears were your friend and they were overspilling faster than you intended them to. His arms opened up instinctively and you didn’t hesitate to let him engulf you.
“I’m sorry,” you murmured between sobs, the words catching in your throat. “‘M sorry, didn’t mean it, ‘m so sorry, sorry, so—” Hiccups interrupted your apologies, but Eddie hushed you gently, his presence making you feel at ease.
“I know, I know…” he cooed, hand ghosting over your back, the hold he had on you tight enough to let you know that you were safe. “It’s okay, honey.” He reassured. The sweet name had your heart beat faster once you looked up at him.
“I-I didn’t mean it.” You stammered all teary-eyed, and Eddie couldn’t help the way his chest tightened, you didn’t deserve this, you didn’t deserve to cry. He was going to make sure you were okay.
“Hey, hey, I know.” He cooed softly, gently caressing your face.
“P-please, don’t leave.” Your tone framed the words so gut-wrenchingly painful that Eddie ached, his heart broke a million times, over and over, pieces to pieces.
“Never.”
“I’d never leave you.”
NOW
STEVE'S BRUNCH.
With the missing pieces of the puzzle finally being revealed to Eddie, that memory was what he replayed in his head, over and over, until he finally couldn’t handle the way Steve reassured you, hand on your waist as he told you idiotic jokes.
He couldn’t shake off it, he shouldn’t just leave it like this. He should fight for you, he should do something. His hand was quick to fish out the notebook, his eyes scanned through it to find the perfect note, maybe, this would help you realize that he had always been there for you. A feeble attempt, but he didn’t have any other choice, you didn’t want to talk to him, so he just slipped the note to Jonathan and left.
You watched him leave, a scowl on your face, heart aching when he didn’t even utter a goodbye to you. It was hypocritical, considering that you had asked him not to acknowledge you, but you couldn’t help it. You couldn’t help yourself when it came to him.
Hours had passed since that moment and you had apologized to Jonathan and Nancy a hundred times by now, but they shrugged it off without a care. God, you really didn’t deserve them, did you?
And everything was going finally back to normal. Sipping the cocktails and munching on the amazing pancakes Steve had made everyone, and dabbling your feet in the water as laughter was all that surrounded the group.
This was what it should’ve been, all of you, and Eddie. If he hadn’t brought her.
But of course, all the bliss disappeared once Steve decided to bring it up again.
“So… how do you feel?” You threw him a glare, splashing some of the chlorine-filled water directly at his hair.
“Jesus, not the fucking hair!” He groaned, ruffling it with his daggering glare thrown at you. “Now you have to tell me!” He insisted, shoulder nudging yours.
“I don’t really wanna talk about it,” you muttered, facing away from him as you felt everyone eyeing you.
“Maybe, we should.” Jonathan chimed in, making you furrow your brows.
“What does that mean?” Steve replied before you did.
With a sigh, Jonathan extended a rustled paper, and you immediately recognized what it was, “He said he wanted me to give this to you.”
“A note? So brave of him,” Steve mocked with a roll of his eyes, groaning when Nancy elbowed him.
Robin hid her giggle with her hand, and Nancy threw her an icy glare, shutting both of them up.
Your brows furrowed in disbelief, lips kissing your teeth as you snatched it out of his hand. “Oh, he did?” You didn’t mean to sound sarcastic, but it was pissing you off at this point.
He didn’t utter a single word to you. And now he didn’t even have the decency to give you this?
Steve was right.
Why was he being a fucking coward?
You were quick to get up from the side of the pool, plopping onto the nearest chair to read the contents.
You could feel their eyes on you but they were quick to hide it, going back to their chatter.
“When she gave me this, I never thought I’d actually end up writing in it for anything other than lyrics. Some ideas. But ever since we kissed, I can’t stop or control my thoughts, it’s been nonstop flowing and this is the only way I can express it. The only thing to make me feel sane, to make it seem like it really was real. My mouth hasn’t shut up about her since she kissed it, my thoughts haven’t been okay ever since I saw the curl of her lips right after she kissed me. I know how hard it is for her, I know how much she struggles with that dipshit who doesn't deserve her. But it doesn’t matter, now. I’ll wait. I’ll wait forever if she asks me to. I’ll do anything if she asks me to.”
You turned the note over, nothing else was written, with your brows pinched together angrily, you smushed it into your pocket, ignoring the protests of everyone while you jumped into your car in a hurry.
What the fuck was he thinking giving you this?
What the fuck was his problem?
If he wanted you, why couldn’t he just tell you?
And if so, why did he even bring Chrissy?
It wasn’t long till you made it to Eddie’s trailer, and with your harsh knocks, it wasn’t long till Eddie opened it.
“Jesus Christ—” His words fell in the air at the sight of you, eyes widening.
“What the fuck is your problem?” You yelled, lines on your forehead deepening into a frown as you held up the note in his face.
“You didn’t utter a single word to me, and you’re just giving this note to Jonathan?” He stammered, mouth unable to find the words to speak, not really expecting you to confront him like this.
“Why don’t you just say it to my fucking face?”
“I would, if you weren’t so busy.”
Your brows pinched together, “excuse me?”
“Is this some kind of a joke?” He asked.
“Y-you tell me not to speak with you! You tell me that we shouldn’t ever see each other again, then you leave with Steve and somehow I’m the problem?” He said, exasperated.
Was he… jealous? Of Steve?
“No, the problem is you being a coward!” You raised your voice, hand pressing the note to his chest dramatically.
“You think I’m a coward? I’m the furthest fucking thing from it, and you know that.”
“You think a coward would put everything aside for you? You think a coward would run away with you?”
“O-okay, okay!” You want him to stop speaking, because you know he’s right, he wasn’t a coward, at least when it came to that. But he was a coward when it came to his feelings, and maybe it wouldn’t have pissed you off this much if you weren’t one too.
The two of you were dancing around what you actually needed to talk about, feelings, and it was getting ridiculous at this point, because neither of you could pull away, no matter how many times you said you would. He pulled you in, and you pulled him in.
“I fucked up, I did. But don’t ever act like I’m the one who ran away when things got too hard, okay?” He leaned further on the door frame, face inches away from yours, it made your breath hitch, heart thumping inside of your ribcage.
Your words meshed together when your gaze stooped on his lips. He was close, so close, and he occupied your mind. “H-How did we even go back to this? It’s like we’re moving around in a stupid fucking circle and—” You took a deep breath to gather your thoughts.
“I told you I didn’t want to do this back and forth with you and here we are again!” It was frustrating, everything with him was frustrating, but you couldn’t stay away from him, how could you?
Those five years had been hell.
“Are you kidding?” His words were dripping with irritation, “You came to my door! Started screaming in my face and waving notes!”
“I only did it because you were too much of a fucking coward to give me the note!” Now it was fully getting ridiculous, arguments turning into a bickering old couple.
“I told you I’m not a coward—” He defended.
You interrupted with, “Fine, fine! You are not a coward whatever!”
“What you are is fucking infuriating!” You spat, taking a step closer to him.
“Infuriating? You started this!” He fueled it, mirroring your steps, one more step from either of you, and his lips would be pressed onto yours.
“Oh, so I kissed Chrissy?” You scoffed, arms crossed against your chest.
“Jesus, that’s not what I meant!” He almost groaned, frustrated.
“You want me to prove it to you? You want me to tell you how much I messed up? I’ll fucking do it.”
There was that tension between the two of you again, it wasn’t filled with hatred in the slightest, but there was so much unresolved shit that it might as well suffocate you if Eddie stepped any closer, it ached, making a way to your heart.
Three hours ago you wanted him out of your life, for good. Now, all you wanted to do was see him prove himself to you, it was stupid, psychotic, and maybe a little selfish. But you couldn’t help yourself when it’s him.
“You will?” You stammered, you didn’t fully know what that meant, but it was somehow making your heart jump knowing that maybe the notes still meant something. Maybe, just maybe he wanted you, still. Your forehead relaxed, and lips itched to curl into a smile.
And of fucking course, Eddie caught it. “Yes.” He said, all smugly, making you want to roll your eyes.
“G-good, uh, until then, I-I mean it, I don’t want to see you.” You shifted uncomfortably in your place, fully realizing how close he was to you, and it somehow brought confidence to Eddie.
He tssked, “Then you probably shouldn’t come to my door, then.” His nose scrunched sarcastically, eliciting an eye roll from you.
“Munson.” You warned.
“Pinky?”
“You really are infuriating.”
“Am I?” He tilted his head all adorably.
“Yes.”
“See you tonight, sweetheart.” He winked.
And you groaned with that, flipping him off while you hurried back to your car.
He closed the door with an amused smile, his nose scrunching as he replayed the conversation in his head.
“So you two good now?” Wayne’s grouchy tone almost had Eddie jump in place.
“Jesus Christ, Wayne! Were you just eavesdropping on our conversation?”
“What? You said y’all had the worst fight of your lives, that don’t seem like it to me.” He shrugged.
“We did— but uh, I don’t know, I just don’t know what the actual fuck is going with us, I thought I was dead to her but then she just barges in—”
“She cares about you, Eddie.” Wayne sighed.
“I know that girl like the palm of my hand, if you were dead to her, she wouldn’t even acknowledge you, just her bein’ a big fireball shows she still cares.”
Eddie sighed, “But she said—”
“Hell to what she said! Both of y’all are idiots when it comes to this, you go prove to her that you’re sorry, tell her how you feel and then you can thank me.” He exclaimed.
“But—”
“Boy, do what I told you, apologize to that sweet girl, and make sure you do it until she forgives you.” Eddie threw a look at Wayne.
And Wayne dismissed it with his finger pointing at him, “I mean it, Eddie, after all the shit you told me about what that little blondie did to my Pinky, you should be on your knees beggin’!”
“Okay, okay!” Eddie admitted the defeat.
“Jesus, old man, it wouldn’t hurt for you to just take your nephew’s side once in a while, would it?” He mocked dramatically.
He threw a daggering look at Eddie, “Fine, fine, I’ll apologize.” Wayne narrowed his gaze. “A proper apology.” Eddie muttered, almost embarrased.
“And?” Wayne raised his brows.
Eddie groaned loudly, “and I’ll tell her how I feel.”
✦ final authors note — okay i promise the next two chapters are going to be less angst-filled (like gonna be worth the wait i promiseee) 🤭 and yes the note was inspired by alex turner's letter to alexa chung okay!! reading that at like 13 altered my brain chemistry a LOT. anyway like i said pls leave some feedback i swear it motivates me a LOTTT. thank u for reading ilyy💗
#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson series#eddie munson imagine#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#eddie munson x fem!reader#rockstar!eddie munson#rockstar!eddie x reader#eddie munson#stranger things fanfic#getaway car#getaway car series
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i know your already working on my series but just hear me out okay. hear me out. crazy x crazy trope but with ethan and reader puts bratty cocky ethan in his place. "not so confident now are you, you little bitch? or are you that drunk off my pussy you can barely think?" while he just pouts and glares at her but is quite literally unable to speak and can only whine and whimper for her. double points if she's ghostface with the baileys, taking revenge because of lets say she was either ambers ex or younger sister and is PISSED at tara for taking her girlfriend/older sister away. (TRIPLE THE POINTS if she knew ethan, quinn and richie since childhood too) sorry its thot hrs and i wanna dom him
I hope you like this! I was determined to finish it tonight. I love a good psychotic moment💕
Savages - Ghostface!Ethan Landry x Fem!Reader
This contains SMUT - Minors DNI
Summary: You and your childhood best friend both lost someone from what happened in Woodsboro at the hands of the Carpenter Sisters. You start to plot with him and his family to get revenge, but he's being a little brat after his first kill.
Contains: 3.2k words, Sub!Ethan, Dom/Psycho!Reader, Oral - m and f recieving, Face sitting/riding, p in v, unprotected sex, mentions of death and violence/blood. (If I missed anything, please let me know. My brain has tapped out for the night haha)
A/N: I hope y'all like it:) I love sub Ethan and a good psycho!reader moment.
Ethan knew he loved you, but the second you put on the Ghostface robe and mask, he fell even harder. It’s hard to believe that the two of you made it to this point. He was a sweet kid, and you were always with his family growing up, until the day your parents moved you to Woodsboro. You tried to remain friends with him, until you got a girlfriend. You weren’t anything more than best friends at that point, but he’d message you like a controlling boyfriend. He professed his feelings, but it was too late. You’d already found someone in your new town. Someone you could experience a relationship with.
He was devastated when you rejected him, and when he wouldn’t let it go, you eventually had to block him. Amber was pretty much the exact opposite. She even asked you about opening the relationship up to other people, just because she wanted you to experience other things. She wasn’t possessive like Ethan, but she never wanted to just let you go.
When Richie showed up to the hospital with Sam after Tara was attacked, he recognized you immediately. He pretended he didn’t, though, not wanting to draw attention to the fact that he wasn’t originally from the area where he met Sam. You finally pulled him to the side one day and talked to him, and he pleaded with you to not tell anyone that you already knew him. That was the moment that you knew he had something to do with what was happening.
You didn’t suspect Amber, though, until the day of the party. You were upstairs in her room when she pulled out a knife.
“I’m sorry, baby,” she said, plunging the knife into your abdomen.
“What the fuck? It’s you?” you sobbed, dropping to your knees as you noticed the blood starting to drip onto her carpet.
“I can’t have you on the suspect list. You trust me, don’t you?” she asked. You hesitated before nodding, “I didn’t stab you anywhere that will cause a lot of damage, okay? I’m going to call 911, and by the time they get here, Richie and I will be done, and you’ll be saved.”
“I feel really dizzy,” you cried out, Amber’s hand wrapping around your mouth so you couldn’t make anymore noise to draw attention to yourself.
“You’re going to pass out soon. You’re losing a lot of blood,” she said, before the rest of her words sounded muffled, your vision completely fading.
She was right, you were saved. You woke up in your hospital bed the next day, and learned that Amber and Richie didn’t survive. You were devastated, but you knew the one person you could talk to that would understand your pain.
You unblocked Ethan’s number and called him. You could hear the tears in his voice as he answered. When he found out that you’d been a part of everything, he was mad at first, screaming at you until his voice was raw. He eventually heard you out, mainly because he had no voice to speak, and learned that you had nothing to do with what happened to Richie. The two of you decided that the Carpenter sisters needed to pay for taking away your loved ones.
You fake-smiled when Sam and Tara walked into your hospital room a little later in the day.
“Someone’s doing better,” Sam said, pushing Tara up beside you before taking a seat at the foot of your hospital bed.
“Yeah, I’m on a lot of good drugs,” you laughed, as Sam and Tara exchanged their glances. “What?” you asked, feeling like there was something they knew and you didn’t.
“Richie and Amber were, uh…” Tara said, looking over to her sister for help.
“They were what?” you asked, turning your attention to Sam as well.
“Your girlfriend and my boyfriend were together,” she said, a stoic look on her face. “We were both getting cheated on by psychos.”
You were livid that Sam was talking about her like that, but you felt a little hurt. You and Amber always promised that if you were going to see other people in your relationship, you’d let the other person know. A few tears started to slip out as Tara offered you the box of tissues on the bedside table.
“Thanks,” you said, grabbing a couple out of the box before Tara sat it back down. “How do you guys feel about getting the fuck out of here? Like, once Tara and I graduate?”
“What did you have in mind?” Sam asked, thinking that it might not be the worst idea.
“I think we should go to New York. I grew up there, and I really think you guys would like it,” you smiled, as Tara nodded.
“Fuck it, let’s start looking into schools. After you get out of here, of course.”
You called Ethan, squealing in excitement when you and all your friends got their acceptance letters. That’s when the plan was officially set into motion, with the help of Quinn and his dad. Having a detective on your side of things was going to heavily benefit the outcome of everything, and you couldn’t wait to make the people that took Amber from you pay for what they’d done.
Once you started school, you were ‘introduced’ to Ethan. No one could know that the two of you already knew each other in attempts to not ruin the plan before you got to do any damage. Fortunately for the two of you, when you immediately hit it off and seemed to have your own little inside jokes, they chalked it up to young love.
You weren’t official with Ethan for a while, until your “Friends’” constant nagging about it convinced you to give him the chance he wanted. Once you found out that poor boy was a virgin, and you helped him out with that, he was wrapped around your finger. He worshipped the ground you walked on and would do anything you asked him to. The only thing he hated was when you brought up Amber. He hated that she got you first.
The night Ghostface “killed” Quinn and actually killed Anika, you were waiting in the alley on the opposite side of the building for your boyfriend to finish what he went in there to do. You were both supposed to be in econ, but you were his alibi. They’d never suspect you, so they could never suspect Ethan if you said you were with him in class.
He was stripping off the robe as he bolted down the fire escape. He tossed it down to you, and you quickly put it in your backpack as he joined you to walk in a normal pace towards the alley exit at the back of the building.
“How was it?” you asked, smiling at him.
“God, baby. It was the biggest rush. I wish you could’ve been in there with me,” he said, pulling you into a kiss once you made it onto the sidewalk.
“I’m so proud of you. You’re doing such a good job for me,” you praised, ruffling your fingers in his hair a little as he started to pull away. “I can’t wait to make the others pay for what they did to Amber.”
He huffed, his irritation at the mention of her name obvious as you cocked your eyebrow at him. “Do you have a problem?”
“Yeah, I do. I was so excited about what just happened, but then you mention your stupid fucking ex. I feel like she’s all you care about,” he said, his angry tone and harsh remarks about Amber pissing you off. “We’re in this together, remember? Me and you?”
“Yeah, and your dad, and Quinn.”
He started to walk away from you, heading towards his dorm. You followed him, trying to keep up with his pace.
“Quit acting like such a brat,” you said, a few feet behind him on the otherwise empty sidewalk.
“Quit being such a bitch,” he muttered, but the second those words left his mouth, he knew he was in trouble. You quickened your pace, slamming him against the brick wall the second you made it to him.
“What did you call me?” you asked, his eyes going wide at the lust in your tone. He stayed silent, just watching you. “Huh, nothing to say now?” you scoffed, “You know I’m in charge here, baby.”
You pulled away, smiling sweetly at him as you took his hand in yours.
The walk back to the dorm was silent because Ethan knew what he was in for. He was excited, but also nervous. The few scenarios where he did decide to get mouthy with you ended in him being edged to the point of tears, begging you to finally let him cum. He was hard at the thought, but he was always scared you’d just walk away and not let him get the release he needed.
Once you made it inside the dorm he shared with Chad, you knew you had plenty of time to be alone with him. Chad probably wasn’t coming back for the night, but you knew you’d have to get back home at some point.
“Take your clothes off,” you said to Ethan, the stern tone in your voice making him comply. You watched him shed each article of clothing and smirked when you saw the tent in his boxers once he removed his jeans. “Aww, baby. Did you get hard from killing someone? Or was it me pushing you against the wall earlier?” you cooed, as he slid his boxers down, his cock standing at attention in from of you.
“It’s because of you,” he said, his arms resting at his sides as he waited for you to tell him what to do next.
“That was the right answer,” you smiled, “Lay back on the bed.”
He did what you said, watching you intently. You walked over to him, and started to stroke his cock that was resting against his tummy.
“Fuck,” he groaned, before you leaned down and took him in your mouth. He thought you were going to take it easy on him tonight, until you pulled your head away after a minute, his cock drenched in your spit. “Babe,” he whined out.
You rolled your eyes at his neediness. “I want you to grab your cock and start stroking, baby.”
He did what you said, your saliva making his hand glide up and down with ease. After a few minutes, he started to whine.
“This doesn’t feel as good as when you do it,” he whimpered, the tip of his cock turning red as he tried to get himself to cum.
“Well, that’s too bad, baby. What was it that you called me?” you fake-pondered, your pointer finger going in between your teeth, “Oh that’s right. I’m a bitch.”
“I didn’t mean it,” he said, his eyes pleading for you to touch him again. You noticed his hand was no longer moving.
“Did I say you could stop?” you questioned, as his hand movements started back up. “Good boy.” He whined at your words, his hand moving faster. “Do you want me to keep praising you, baby?”
He nodded his head as he kept going.
“You did such a good job tonight. You know how wet you made me when you killed her?” you said, your sadistic side on full display. “I’m so proud of you for doing whatever I ask you to.”
You noticed he was starting to get close, his hand moving even faster and his heaving chest, along with his whimpers making it obvious. Just as he was about to cum, you stopped him.
“Don’t you fucking cum,” you scolded, his hand coming to a stop as he started to whine even more from the lost orgasm.
“I needed it so bad,” he begged, as you shook your head.
“I don’t know if you deserve to cum. Maybe if you didn’t feel the need to call me names…” you trailed off, as he started to get really frustrated.
“I wouldn’t have called you that if you wouldn’t have brought her up,” he snapped, your eyes getting dark at his words.
“Hmm, I think someone’s a little insecure. Are you worried that she fucked me better than you do?” you questioned, “Because I don’t know what other reason you have to be jealous of someone that’s dead.”
“Stop talking about her,” he said, growing furious at the thought of you having sex with someone else.
“You are just too cute,” you said, slipping your shirt over your head. “I can’t believe that you think you’re going to have the upper hand in this, ya know? Like you really think that I’m going to stop talking about her. I loved her, Ethan.”
His eyes stayed on you as you continued to strip out of your clothes,
“What? Cat got your tongue, baby? You have nothing to say?” you asked, sliding your panties down. “Even if you did, I know the perfect way to shut you up.”
You crawled up on the bed, your knees right beside his head as you swung your leg over to straddle his face.
“You better make me cum, or you don’t get to cum. Got it?” you asked, as he nodded before you lowered yourself.
His tongue gently moved against your clit at first. He knew just how you liked it, so he wanted to pace himself. Once he started to lick a little faster, your hands went down to his curls as you really started to ride his face.
“You’re doing so good, baby,” you moaned out, his hands going to your hips as he helped you move against his mouth.
You whimpered when his tongue dipped inside you, the muscle massaging your walls as he ate you out. Once he could tell you were getting close, he lifted your hips a little to focus on your clit again. The second he sucked it into his mouth, you started to feel your orgasm building. You gripped the headboard to keep yourself stable, your hands and legs starting to shake.
“Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum,” you whined out, one hand staying on the headboard as your other went back to his hair. You were tugging at it as that euphoric feeling hit, his groaning from your pulling making the orgasm more intense. He kept your hips moving until you rode out your high, your body getting a little tired from the release.
You got off his face as he tried to catch his breath. He was anticipating what you’d do next, because he made you cum, and he was hoping you’d keep up your end of the deal. You didn’t say anything as you straddled his waist and lined his cock leaking precum with your entrance. He groaned out when you sank down, the feeling making his brain turn to mush.
You started slowly; your hands placed on his chest as you took your time. He was desperate for more, but you weren’t going to give in that easily.
“You aren’t so cocky now, are you? You little bitch.” You put extra emphasis on that word because that’s what he called you, and he needed to know his place. He glared at you as you continued to take your time with him.
Whimpers flooded out of his mouth when you started to bounce on him, his cock almost completely out of you before you sank back down onto him. His hands went to your hips to help you keep your pace feeling like he was finally getting somewhere. He started to babble, his words sounding like ‘I fucking love your pussy’. You smirked at his current state.
“Look at you, so drunk off my pussy that you can’t even talk,” you said, your breathing getting heavy as the tip of his cock kept hitting your g-spot. “Are you okay, sweet boy?”
He started to whimper again, his orgasm quickly approaching. You decided to let him cum, as you leaned forward, your chest almost pressed against his. He gripped your hips harder as he started to thrust up into you, your hips rolling back to meet each one.
Your orgasm was right on the edge, your walls starting to flutter a little. He was trying so hard to get you through another one before he came.
“Fuck, baby. I’m cumming,” you moaned out, as his whines got even louder. Your walls spasmed around him, making his breath hitch in his throat.
The skin slapping and his sounds were bouncing around the room as he kept pounding into you.
“Can I please cum?” he begged, praying that you’d say yes.
You were proud of him for using his words that he hadn’t been able to form. “Yes, baby.”
He whimpered out as his hot cum painted your walls, his grip on your hips getting shaky as he slowed your movements.
“Holy fuck,” he said, his hands rubbing against your back as his cock stayed inside of you.
You listened to his heartbeat as you got out of your dominating headspace, starting to feel a little bad.
“I’m sorry I talk about her so much. I really loved her,” you mumbled against his chest.
“I guess I just feel like I’m always coming in second place to her,” he sighed, sadness in his voice.
“You aren’t, though. I think we would’ve ended up together one way or another,” you laughed a little as he kissed the top of your head.
“After we’re done with all of this, can we just focus on us?” he asked, as you nodded against him.
You laid there for a few more minutes, before remembering that you needed to head back to the apartment.
“I have to go, baby,” you said, sitting up. He groaned as you slid him out of you.
“Do you have to?” he asked, wanting nothing more than for you to stay in his bed with him a little longer.
“If we want this plan to work, then yes,” you said, noticing his cum dripping down your inner thighs as you tried to grab your clothes off the floor. “You came a lot, fuck.”
You grabbed some tissues and wiped it from your thighs before you started to put your clothes back on. He started to laugh a little as you glanced over to him. “What?”
“My cum is going to keep dripping out of you,” he said, as you rolled your eyes.
“Lucky for you, I think it’s hot. It’s a nice little reminder of how good I made you feel,” you said with a smile. “I love you, baby,” you said, kissing him before grabbing your purse and rushing out of the room.
“I love you, too.”
You’d almost made it to the apartment when you noticed all the flashing lights up ahead and could see Mindy and Chad sitting on the sidewalk.
“What’s going on?” you asked, looking around to see the black tarp covering a body in the alley.
“Anika,” was all that Tara could say, before Sam spoke up, “And Quinn. Our apartment is a crime scene right now.”
“Oh my god,” you said, turning on your crocodile tears as you looked over to Mindy. “I’m so sorry.”
“Was Ethan in class tonight?” she asked coldly, her question catching you off guard.
“Yeah, he was sitting beside me the whole time. Then we went back to his dorm for a little bit before I came home,” you lied, as she started to shake her head.
“None of this makes any fucking sense.”
#ethan landry#ethan landry x reader#scream smut#ethan landry smut#scream#smut#Ghostface!Ethan Landry
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Christmas with your FS
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Pile 1
Sexual Tarot Deck:
6 of Swords, 3 of Wands, 2 of Swords, and 4 of Wands
“Under the mistletoe, we kiss tonight. This marks our eternal love for each other..”
“I want to keep you away from everyone, to hold you, kiss you, fuck you.. Ugh too bad we can’t escape them”
It seems like your first Christmas is at a family gathering of theirs. I feel like you both wanted to collaborate on the Christmas events from each side of the family. Either one of you could have a lot of extended family members! Anyways, this starts off as being very uncertain and not knowing where to look. It’s like you both had plans for this time around to be alone but ultimately it was not a viable option. I am getting a vision of your FS answering a call from their family, their family wants to hang around and have a cute holiday party. It seems like you will be slightly disappointed because you may have been planning a holiday getaway in secret but now you have to cancel your vacation.
Regardless the chemistry between the two of you is still there! You both decided to lay off having sex. I feel like this pile has these moments in the relationship where they get infatuated with each other. It is like you both want to consume each other's souls. There is a strong sexual energy here. I am picking up that you like to tease a lot! You seem to enjoy wanting to make your FS dripping/leaking. It’s almost like you are taking out your anger on them haha. It seems like you like to transmute energy with your FS. I am sensing that you enjoy having the freedom to tease them all you want.
During the Christmas holiday week, you will be touching them and edging them. It's not enough for them to cum though. They will be SO frustrated with you, they may at times snap at you during this week because they want you to satisfy them. I am getting a vision of you smiling at them and rubbing circles into their ass, really touching all their erogenous zones. You will even be taking lewd pictures to send to them while they are out.
When it comes to Christmas day, you both will be riled up. You both can no longer take it anymore, you must unleash all this lust. This sex is going to have you both passing out but there will be challenges to get away from family! I am sensing that this party event is at your FS parent’s house. During the party, you both will be giving flirtatious stares, discreetly touching each other, and doing gestures that no one else understands. I am getting a vision of someone lifting up their skirt/dress and not wearing anything underneath it!
You both will find ways to sneak off and share a kiss or two. I am sensing that every 30 minutes you both find somewhere hidden to be to make out. There is a lot of tongue energy here, my lips feel wet. So I am sensing that this kiss is quite erotic. I feel like this is the pile that is really into making out. You both will explore each other's tongue and mouth. You may enjoy the feeling of their tongue against yours and vice versa with your FS.
Now for the sex.. On Patreon
Pile 2
Sexual Tarot Deck:
10 of Swords, Death, The Stars, and The Hierophant
“Hold my hand, take care of me while I go through this despair”
“Take away my pains, I no longer wish to cry but I can’t help it”
This pile has some dark energy to their reading. I feel like there will be an event with your FS that will leave you sad, and almost depressed. I am not sure but some people that choose this pile may struggle with depression and dark thoughts. I hope that you can find some peace at times though. Anyways, there seems to be a death in the family or this is around the time that a family member has passed away and you no longer wish to grieve over it but you can’t help it when it comes to their anniversary.
You seem to struggle with keeping it together, there will be moments where you want to scream and cry for help just so you don’t hold it in anymore. The collective of this pile may be people who struggle to ask for help when in need. It’s almost like you have this hyper-independence mindset. There is a vision that I am seeing of you being alone and crying alone in the dark. For some reason, you may hide what you are going through from your FS. I can sense that they will mention how you seem to have changed, and that they are always there for when you need to talk but you are trying to put this brave front.
Now, the next vision that I am seeing is them catching you crying. I am seeing a vision of someone finding you outside crying to yourself, knees held against your face, and the sounds of weeping distraught. They are going to surround you with love and care at this time. They don’t want you to feel like you are alone because you aren’t. I am sensing that they were really festive and into the holiday spirit. They were excited to have spent time with you and their family. You didn’t want to ruin that for them so this is one of the reasons that you convinced yourself to hide it. You did not ruin their holiday spirit but they are upset that you didn’t talk to them sooner.
During the Christmas holiday week, they will be attending to your needs. They will be around more often, taking care of house chores, bringing soup, and creating a comfortable safe space. They want you to be able to express your emotions fully. They don’t want you to bottle it up, they want to see you feel more comfortable around them. There is also this desire from them, they desire to be the one to see you vulnerable. A raw authentic version of you, a desire to see who you really are. They want to see you drop the high walls that you may have put up to keep others out. In a way, this will build a stronger relationship between the two of you.
Now during Christmas day, I see that you two will be more comfortable and relaxed with each other. I feel like your FS didn’t want to spend time with their family because you were still grieving for some you both attended Christmas Day for a brief period of time. Either way, you end up at your house/apartment. I feel like this starts off very slow and passionate. It feels like this starts off with sweet compliments from them. They will be caressing you, rubbing circles into your skin, and trailing sweet kisses all over your body. They will be very gentle and ask if you want to continue because they really just want you to feel relaxed.
Now for the sex.. On Patreon
Pile 3
Sexual Tarot Deck:
2 of Wands, Knave of Swords, 8 of Wands, and 4 of Swords
“Come I know you want more..”
“Let’s have multiple back-to-back orgasms”
This pile is very passionate and fiery with their FS. I feel like you both are looking forward to spending the holidays alone. You both may have wanted to go on a trip by yourselves. I feel like you both spent a lot of time with family a week before so they wouldn’t feel saddened that you guys aren’t there with them. For some people who selected this pile, I feel like you may not have a good relationship with family so it is natural for you to just spend this holiday at home all cozy. Although because of that they want to bring an abundance of love to you.
There is a general sense of wanting to make Christmas Day special, I feel like either one of you did not have the best holiday. Perhaps it is because either one of you did not grow up with celebrating this holiday but you or your FS could have grown up with it. It’s almost like they want to introduce you to a special occasion. You or they could put a lot of effort into making things perfect, so you’ll find it to be shocking that they are stressing over minor details. I see them asking your opinions on which country you want to be in, what activities, and what you want from each unique location that you may have selected. Your FS is wealthy, this is the pile that could have millionaire spouses. For some people, they are amazing at budgeting, so they make a good income to support both of you.
Throughout the week, you both will be busy with a lot of fun spontaneous activities. I feel like there is so much teasing energy here. You could be wearing more revealing clothes, tighter fits, and showing off more of your collarbones than usual. They will be really into it, I see you both like to do some color coordination. You both are such a cute couple because I am seeing you both planning what to wear together.
Whenever you both go out to dine, I feel like this is where the teasing is more prominent. You both have the correct words to say, there is a lot of dirty talk. Whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ear. Ok, so I am hearing a deep sexy masculine voice and a sweet seductive woman’s voice. Whoever you are into, they have a sweet deep voice. I feel like you may even have a voice kink because you will be squirming just from their voice alone.
There may be times when you think you are seducing them and they will match your energy and do the most. It’s like you both are competitive with each other. I feel like this pile's energy enjoys switching and exchanging power dynamics. There is a sense of trying to overly dominate each other and I feel like some days on this trip you give up and vice versa. There is so much fun energy here, they may be into worshiping you. I feel like you’ll have so much because they make you feel good about yourself.
Now for the sex.. On Patreon
Thank you for reading!
#spirtuality#pac#tarot#pick a pile#pick a card#pac reading#tarot reading#free tarot readings#witchcraft#hellenic pagan#pagan witch#tarot cards#paganism#fs#fs pac#fs pick a pile#fs reading#fs tarot#divination readings#divinetiming#divine masculine#divine female#divination#tarot deck
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__ 𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐍 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑𝐙 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐓 𝐂𝐔𝐌𝐒𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐙??!?
𝐅𝐓._ 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮 𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐢𝗼𝐤𝐚, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮 𝐤𝐲𝗼𝐣𝐮𝐫𝗼, 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚!
#_ top! 𝗺𝐚𝐥𝐞! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐬𝐞𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝗺𝗼𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐧 𝐚𝐮, 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 & 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝗼𝐭𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐬 𝐛𝐜 𝐢 𝐬𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐬𝗼 😋, 𝐰𝗼𝐫𝐝 𝐯𝗼𝗺𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝗺𝐚𝗼, 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝗼𝐫𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡 𝐜𝐮𝐭!
𝐂𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍_ FIRST FIC AND THE YEAR N ON THE FIRST DAY IF BLACK HISTORY MONTH 💪🏾 I BETTER BE SEEING PRAISES OF GRATEFULNESS IN MY INBOX WHEN I WAKE UP LATER 😡 teehee this has been in my drafts for over a year el oh el...
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢_𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧 !
#_ 𝐛𝐥𝗼𝐰𝐣𝗼𝐛, 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐣𝗼𝐛, 𝐜𝗼𝐜𝐤 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 <3, 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐞𝗼𝐭𝐲𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝗼𝐜𝐤! 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢 & 𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐝! 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐩𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐞𝐱, 𝐯𝐢𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 !
You would think that there would be a line, maybe a boundary that Uzui wouldn’t cross, even though he teases you relentlessly like a child. You’d figure that this time around, when he spots you in the very back of the library, completing an essay that’s not due for weeks, he’d do what he always does— childish antics like closing your computer shut or maybe stealing a couple of the books you need for research. Teasing you about being a virgin? Is understandable; he’s done it before. But offering his body to “help” you get rid of it now is new and dangerous.
“What’re you thinking about?” Uzui’s cheeky tone comes from slightly under the table— where’s he not hidden at all, a hand caressing your inner thigh and a soft whine tears from your lips. You don’t wanna look at all but you can’t help it, it’s humiliating as it is equally hot how Uzui looked under you, your cock in his hot hands and mouth just inches away. “You don’t get to think about anything else but me right now, got it?”
You can only mumble out a weak apology when Uzui’s pretty pink tongue pokes out of his lips, and swirls around the head of your cock. Muffling a cry with a mouthful of your sweater, hands clutching the seat of your chair as your hips shake and buck erratically at the pleasure; ‘n Uzui doesn’t try to stop your eagerness, lips wrapping around your leaking head and keens while he jerks the rest of your aching cock off.
“C-coming, ‘m coming! Pleasepleaseplease—” it should be embarrassing how quick you are to release, but Uzui’s mouth feels so good; not even fully sucking you off but his mouth feels so hot ‘n wet that you can’t help chasing for more pleasure. Your vision fades and your body spasms from the hard orgasm that hits you, coming into Uzui’s eager awaiting mouth with a high moan that you can only pray doesn’t echo throughout the library.
Uzui let’s go if you spent dick with a wet pop and presses one, two, three kisses against the girth of your cock, peering up at you through thick lidded lashes as he studies your fucked expression.
“Such a pretty dick wasted on someone like you,” he snides in that same tone you know all too well, “But it’s okay, ‘m make teach ya how to use it to fuck someone good, you got it?”
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮_𝐤𝐲𝗼𝐣𝐮𝐫𝗼 !
#_𝐫𝐢𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝗼𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝗺., 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝗺𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐫𝐮𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐲 𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮'𝐬 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐬𝐞 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤 (𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐞𝗺𝐚𝐫𝐤) !
Rengoku strives to please you; you’re so sweet to him, and he lives off the attention and the praise that leaves your lips whenever he’s been good. He’ll follow your orders as best as he can, ‘cuz it’s not his fault that he sometimes gets too excited and overstimulated, ‘k? You just get him so worked up he can’t help it!
It’s not his fault he got excited in the mist of studying, it’s all yours, you, with your stupid pretty face and your hands that grip his inner thigh, where he’s so sensitive and he just can’t help but get hard! But you’re so good to him and you’ll give him exactly what he needs; you’ll let him indulge himself just this once, let him use your dick however he pleases.
“Does it feel good?” you ask with difficulty, throat burning as sharp gasps leave your mouth. Rengoku fucks himself on you hard, lifting his hips up ‘till just your tip in, then slamming his hips down. Both of your thighs slap together and you can’t help but wheeze out at every thrust, his muscular body weighing hard on top of your own.
“F-feels good— want more, please,” Rengoku babbles, hands grasping your shirt in an effort to steady himself. He can feel his knees and thighs burn, ‘n he feels tired but it feels so good as well, his cock still hard and leaking even after coming a few times.
“Greedy little thing,” you hum, after Rengoku pulls you into a messy kiss. “Greedy boy wants to be stuffed full of come, huh? Is that what you want?”
You breath stutters as you feel so close to coming, hands gripping Rengoku’s waist and fucking up into his tight cunt as best as you can. Rengoku’s legs give out at that force, and he can’t do anything but moan and drool as you continue to thrust erratically.
“W-wan’it,” he whines, pressing his lips against your neck to mark; and the slight pain only adds to the pleasure for you. “You’re close, right? Want your c-cum— in me, my stomach, want it all, wanna be stuffed by you—”
His words only send you to the edge, fucking up into him as you orgasm, thick ropes of cum being stuffed into his tight hole, just like he wanted it.
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮_𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐢𝗼𝐤𝐚 !
#_𝐝𝐞𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐟𝐞𝗺𝐢𝐧𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝗺𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝗺𝐚𝐬𝗼𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮, 𝐬𝐡𝗼𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝗼𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐬 !
“I try to be so nice to you, but you can’t be fucking grateful, can you? You’re such a whore that you can’t come unless someone’s pushing you down ‘n being a ‘lil mean to you, huh?”
Giyuu can only whine in agreement, slightly muffled noises from your hand pressing against his mouth. His hips try desperately to rut back against you, eager for more despite what you’re already giving him. His body urges for more; the stretch, the burn, more pain; the sting of it all makes him so needy his little cock can’t help but get hard.
“Oi, arch your back more.” you demand, pressing a harsh slap against his thigh, which was surely going to leave a mark on his easily bruising skin. He tries his best to follow your demands, he really does! But his body aches so much from multiple orgasms that he can barely move a muscle :(.
Giyuu can only whimper as his lax body is easily manhandled into whatever position you desire, not even caring about the condition his body is in. He likes it a little too much, the stack of bruises on his body, old marks barely fading already covered by new ones— marking him as yours, and only yours.
“Fuck, your cunt feels so good.” You growl, hips slamming against him, “gonna cum, you better take it like a good fucking girl.”
Giyuu tries to speak, voice his agreement, because there’s nothing more he’d want that than you to fill him like he deserves— but you’re so animalistic; shoving his head down into the drool soaked sheets (his mess) so he can’t speak, only muffled whines and noises of pain and pleasure can be heard.
Your hand yanks at his hair and pull him up an his knees; grabbing his throat to lead his face to yours, pulling him into an messy tongue filled kiss. His whines get higher, needier, rising in octaves that’ll surely have his throat sore tomorrow.
Giyuu thinks it’ll definitely be worth it.
𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚 : 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢_𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚 !
#_𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐱?, 𝐡𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐩𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐞𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐞𝗺𝐞𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝗼𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢, 𝐩𝗼𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝐛𝗼𝐭𝐭𝗼𝗺 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐞𝗺𝐢, 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐛 𝐭𝗼𝐩 𝗺𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐭𝐰! 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝗺𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝗼𝐧 𝗼𝐟 𝐛𝐥𝗼𝗼𝐝 !
“How many times do I have to say ‘you’re mine’ for you to finally understand?”
You can only gasp as Sanemi’s rough hand grabs your chin harshly, getting extremely close to your face. He sneers at the confused whine that leaves your lips at his statement. He hates it; seeing other whores flocking around you like you’re a piece of meat— you are, but only his. He thought he made that very clear since the first time you fucked; seems like he’s gotta etch it into your dumb brain for you to understand.
“Head back. Now.” But he’s already gripping the back of your hair and forcing it into the place he wants without giving you a chance to respond. Breath fanning over the juncture between your neck and shoulder has you shivering — in fear or desperation, you can’t tell. He revels in that fear and unknowingness emitting off of you.
His hips finally start moving— agonizingly slow; grinding his hips and cock up against your stomach. The whine that emits from your throat is needy, impatient; but you know better than to move. Sanemi’s lips come to suck on your neck, leaving small hickies in his wake— every nip at your skin has you keening, hips twitching desperately at every grind of Sanemi’s.
“Fuck, ‘m close,” he whines, his grinding picking up in speed, yet not enough to bring you closer to the brink. Your eyes water, stuttering words of; “please, faster” and “Sanemi, sir” leave your drooling mouth. Sanemi thinks you look so good like this. Below him, submitting to him. As you should and always will be. Just seeing you like this gets him so close.
You feel yourself being knocked from all air as he finally— finally picks up the pace; rough and fast, chasing desperately for his release. Being denied from pleasure for so long has you so close too, and Sanemi cries; “c’mon, fuck me. Make me come!” has you gripping his thick thighs and thrusting up in and erratic rhythm.
“Sanemi, Sanemi, ‘m coming—! Lemme cum, please? I wanna—” you vision blurs and your mouth opens in a silent cry as Sanemi bites— teeth digging into your shoulder as a final push to make you cum; he can taste the copper on his tongue and feel the warmth of your cum filling his hole. His eyes role back in ecstasy as he reaches his own release.
The bite mark on your neck will surely remind you that you’re his. And when it fades, he’ll just do it again.
#sub top male reader#sub demon slayer#demon slayer x male reader smut#demon slayer x male reader#𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚;: 𝐠𝐢𝐲𝐮𝐮_𝐭𝗼𝗺𝐢𝗼𝐤𝐚#𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚;: 𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐠𝗼𝐤𝐮_𝐤𝐲𝗼𝐣𝐮𝐫𝗼#𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚;: 𝐬𝐚𝗺𝐞𝐧𝐢_𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐳𝐮𝐠𝐚𝐰𝐚#𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚;: 𝐮𝐳𝐮𝐢_𝐭���𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐧#sub giyuu#sub uzui#sub sanemi#sub rengoku#tw! bit of blood#✍︎︎. ray’s works !#power bottom uzui#power bottom sanemi#the sup top (tm) is back 🧏🏾♂️#top male reader
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My most crack of crack person head cannon is that Shang Qinghua. The great Airplane shooting towards the side. Is a Cuban Chinese man. 🇨🇺🇨🇳
His mom was Cuban and his Dad was Chinese. In his first like. In his second his mom was Chinese and his dad was Cuban. He doesn’t know English but knows Spanish. The biggest reason he’s not outed as a fucking transmigrator early on because of his mumbling is that a lot of it is in Spanish. The entirety of the Who’s your daddy? Airplane monologue is in Spanish but he says the last line in Chinese.
In my head Shang Qinghua, Su Xiyan, and Binghe are the only characters with curly hair. AAAAAAND because the system fills with Plot holes I believe that Biological. Shang Qinghua is Su Xiyan brother through their father. Not being raised together. Kinda like Shang Qinghua’s Father Secret family. (This circles back stay with me). She gives birth to Luo Binghe who is picked up by the old washer woman.
WHO IS Shang Qinghua’s Mother. And because of her Ex Husband with curly hair teaching her new cultural foods she later teaches both her sons this food. Shang Qinghua and later Luo Binghe. and so know NO ONE CAN MAKE A CUBANO OR PERNI LIKE SHANG QINGUA AND LUO BINGHE!! They can make fucking CUBAN FOOD!! It’s also why these two canonically too the average svsss civilian got the head disciple position because of their ability to cook.
Shang Qinghua is a great cook on the level of Luo Binghe because they have the same teacher and I REFUSE. To believe otherwise.
- Tell me you don’t see this vision. Luo Binghe coming to pick up his Shizun after he has a meeting with Mobei Jun’s rat. Your Shizun walks out with a little Box of fucking Pan con Lechón that’s the name your Mother use to call it at least. You haven’t seen anybody now or since that can cook that food. First you get sad and are about to cry because another man cooked for Shizun. Then your mind goes too how is the fastest way I kill the rat without upsetting Shizun. And only then do you pause. IS THAT FUCKING PAN CON LECHÓN!!
- Also Mobei Jun knowing a surprising amount of Spanish just not when it’s spoken very quickly. Well he knows Shang Qinghua’s broken Spanderin. So he knows quite a bit. But like also not a miracle worker if Shang Qinghua talks any faster then normal he cannot understand a thing.
If you want more I have more please god I need to talk to someone about this please!!
#svsss#svsss novel#svsss shitpost#svsss shang qinghua#svsss headcanon#moshang#bingqiu#svsss luo binghe#shang qinghua
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