#and when i was seeing a therapist for a but after every session she would tell me id be better off quitting it altogether

[idontplaytrack]

White roses

Janis ‘Imi’ike x fem! reader

Warnings: mature themes— eating disorders. Coarse language, angst, some fluff

In which reader’s attempt to understand her sister’s action lead to a complete breakdown

You weren’t sure when everything changed, but they did and it has never been the same since then. Your sister’s been faking, faking it all the time with you. Faking that she was okay when she wasn’t. You knew that, so you tried to help her whenever and however you could. She appreciates it, you knew that. She made sure you knew it. But every time you look at her, your heart hurts. Regina was struggling, now worse than ever. But two weeks ago, you couldn’t take it and talked to her. You actually sat her down alone and talked to her about it. Then it became begging. You broke down and begged her to get help. It was something you wouldn’t have done if you hadn’t seen her show signs of wanting to get help and get better in the first place. Things got better at first, then it took a huge dip. That’s when you talked to her.

For whatever reason, Regina agreed to get help. And ever since that day when she got dropped off at the hospital, you were reduced to seeing her three times a week at most. Which was a very big change compared to being able to see her everyday. Sitting in her Jeep after pulling into the driveway, you shut your eyes while you took some deep breaths. Ever since you saw her today in the hospital, your mood took a turn. While you were happy to see her, and she was more than happy to see you, having to see Regina in the hospital broke your heart every time you came by. Countless questions swam through your head after each visit. Why would she do that to herself? She knew it could literally cost her her life. She knew that, she’s told you that. But time and time again, she relapses. She doesn’t mean to, you knew that. That was why you spoke up and told her to get help. You weren’t going to risk losing your best friend.

Turning the engine off, you scrambled into the house, your mind racing as you rushed upstairs to your bedroom.The door opens with a slam, your bag falls at the foot of your bed with a thud. In a hurry, you found yourself in the bathroom, staring at the toilet. Were you about to do that? You weren’t thinking straight if at all, but one thing you knew for sure was that you had to understand why she did so. That was the main voice in your mind, urging you to…understand. You locked the bathroom door gingerly, kneeling before the toilet. You retched, the feeling was awful. Nothing came up, but It shocked you to the point where you just started to hyperventilate and cry as you fall onto your ass and sat on the marble floors. ‘Why’d you do that, y/n? You shouldn’t have. You shouldn’t have—’

You couldn’t even begin to imagine how painful this was for your sister, this was barely anything at all. After some time, you fished your phone out from your pocket. You were barely calming down and you needed Janis. You didn’t care how you were claiming you’ve been doing okay anymore, because you weren’t. This thing, showed it clearly to you. You needed someone.

“Janis—” Your breath hitched, “Jan, can you come over please?”

She didn’t even have the chance to reply.

“Please, I need you, please.” You were crying again.

Your phone falls from your hand after you heard the dial tone, you zoned out feeling absolute shame and disgust by your own decision to even think about doing that in the first place. You knew what you had to do— you had to let Dr. Cree know, you needed to squeeze in another session with your therapist this week on top of your usual two. But right now, you couldn’t even move. And you didn’t. You didn’t move until you heard knocks on your bathroom door which jolted you out of your thoughts. “Baby, it’s me.” Janis says. You sniffed, standing up unsteadily to unlock the door. She opens it a crack and you move out of the way so she could fully open the door. Seeing how distraught you were, she envelopes you in a hug instantly, rubbing your back in a soothing motion. “Hey, hey it’s okay. I have you, baby. I have you.”

You cried buckets as she held you in her arms without question.

Eventually, you and Janis sat in your bed and you started to explain all that went down before you called her to come over. “I…am texting my therapist now to get another session scheduled so I can dissect this and figure it out.”

“That’s good, baby.” She held your face in her hand, pressing a kiss to your lips before you snuggled up against her. “It’s a very difficult thing you’ve had to deal with, pretty much being the main person looking out for Regina. You have done a damn good job making sure she was being taken care of, you know? You stepped up, you shouldn’t have to, but you did. Because you love your sister, and believe me when I say this: Things will get better eventually. It’s a whole process and it might seem like it’s taking forever, but Regina is so fucking strong, she knows there’s more to life than what she’s struggling with.”

“Thank you.” You wrap your arms around her, “I— I know that, but sometimes I really just need to hear it. So, yeah— thank you.” You ended up fully laying on Janis, your legs kind of straddling her while your head rested on her chest. She kisses the crown of your head, “Do you want anything? Takeout? It’s dinnertime soon.”

“Sure.” You hummed, getting increasingly sleepy in her presence, “Not sure what I want though.”

“That’s okay, leave that to me.” She chuckles, looking down at you in adoration, “Wanna nap?”

You nodded, “Mm, yeah.”

“Okay, close your eyes, honey. Rest up.” She gives you another kiss on the head, running her fingers through your hair and scratching your scalp— very effectively coaxing you to sleep. Once you fell asleep, Janis was looking through the food delivery app on her phone to decide what to order in for dinner. She knew for sure that June wasn’t going to be home tonight.

————

“It’s not unheard of for caregivers to imitate— for the lack of better words, the affected person’s behaviour, oftentimes coming from a point where they wish to understand the reasoning or the feeling. However, unlike them, you, the caregiver know that it is wrong. Though both you and your sister are both seeking help from mental health professionals, it’s for very different reasons. She is mentally ill because of her anorexia, her bulimia. You, like we both know, are seeing me to deal with anxiety. They’re very different, rather tough in their own ways but equally valid to be seeking help for. In fact, it’s right to— it’s beneficial to get help. It is difficult to get to the first step, to ask for help. But you’ve done it, and so has she. You guys are both on the right tracks.”

“I had a completely just— worst panic attack of my life after it hit me what I was doing. I called Janis, she came over and then I managed to come down from it pretty quickly. But I just thought it was the right thing to do to get another session with you so I could work through the complexity of it all.”

“You did the right thing talking to me about it. Knowing you need to talk and when you need to talk is amazing. You have improved a lot, y/n.”

You nodded, giving her an appreciative smile.

“Your decision to cut down on the number of visits to your sister, I think it will be good for you. You’re not responsible for caring for her like you had to prior to her hospitalisation. You have to lead your own life too, y/n.”

“I hear you. It’ll take a bit of time and willpower to get used to, but I’ll try my best.”

She nodded, “Is there anything else you’d like to talk about?”

“Actually, uh, yeah. Last night, I had sex for the first time— ever. And it was…great but then when the sobriety hit me, so did the guilt.”

“Why do you think you felt the guilt?”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, picking at your nails, “I guess…because my mom and dad have always told me sex was not a ‘good’ thing. That I should never do anything until I was married.”

“Did you both consent?”

“Yes.” You nodded, staring at your nails instead of keeping eye contact with your therapist.

“Did you feel listened to? Seen? Or instead pressured in any way— for anything?”

“No. Janis was great, she really talked to me before we even did anything to make sure boundaries were set for both of us. Everything went really well, it was just the after that I started to freak out because—”

“Because?” She prompted.

“…Because I couldn’t let go of my parents’ opinion and live my life the way I want to.” You let that out. “It scares me that they are so strict about that. A part of me understands they probably just want to keep me safe, but I do feel so safe and loved by Janis. So I said yes. Actually, I initiated the thing. I asked if we could do it. Then after everything, she took care of me. You know? I felt good, it was better than I could’ve ever imagined it to be.”

“And that is absolutely fine. It’s great. But yes. Sex can be intense, it is intimate and it may seem daunting, but like you said— you were safe, and listened to and cared for. That’s all you need to focus on instead of someone else’s. It’s your life, you deserve the freedom as you see fit. You know how to speak up for yourself, y/n. You have the tools, the courage, the capability to deal with that and any moments where you feel low. But as always, you have to also remember that you can always contact me.”

“I do.” You chuckled, “Yeah I do.”

“I think this a good place to close today’s session, isn’t it?”

“Yep.” You agreed, “Thanks, Haley.”

“Of course. I’ll see you Friday?”

“You will.” You confirmed, “Janis is coming with me.”

“Ah, then I look forward to finally meeting her. Take care, y/n.”

You left the office feeling as if a huge weight has been lifted off your shoulders, and with much more clarity on just about everything. You drove home, took a shower and made yourself dinner. You hopped on a FaceTime call with Janis in the meantime.

“How was your session today?”

“Very good.” You told her while stirring the pasta in the pan. “Really, I talked about everything I needed and wanted to talk about, worked through them. Didn’t cry— which is another huge thing. She smiled, “I’m glad to hear that, baby. What ya making?”

“Pasta.” You answered happily. She gasps dramatically, “Can I come over?”

“You want to? Sure.” You nodded, grinning.

“Carbonara?”

“Yeah.” You couldn’t help it but chuckled.

“With Bacon Spam instead of bacon?” She asks eagerly.

“Mhm.”

“I’m on my way. My mom and dad aren’t home right now anyway- business trip.” Janis decided.

“Alrighty, see you soon.”

She stayed on the call the whole way over. Literally, right until she was on your front porch.

You opened the door and she just tackles you into a hug. “Missed me?” You joked.

“Of course.” She nearly snorted laughing.

“Oh yeah?” You continued.

“Yeah.” She nodded, grinning mischievously. You knew what was coming— she was going to kiss you all over your face. And she did, you giggled, as always. So she just does it more, all while clinging onto you. “Hi, cutie.”

“Right on time.” You grinned, “I’ve just plated the pasta. You want garlic bread?”

“Only if you add some cheese.” Janis shrugs.

“We’re both lactose tolerant.” You stated.

“It’s okay, we have a half day tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d be with Damian.” You told her while taking out a roll of garlic bread from the freezer and the bag of shredded cheddar and parmesan mix. You put them on a tray and popped it into the oven.

“Well, he’s on a date, so is everyone else we know.” Janis pulled out a chair for you, you sat down then she does the same opposite of you.

“Everyone?” You asked back. “Us too?”

“I know you’re joking, but I can be pretty romantic, y/n.”

“Oh I have no doubt about that, babe.”

She wasn’t kidding— she lit candles and dimmed the lights while you tried to start eating your food.

“See? Any night can be date night.”

“This is nice.” Your lips tug into a smile. She smiles back then dug into food.

After dinner, you and Janis decided to bake some cookies while jamming out to both your favourite songs. “Chocolate chips?” Janis asked, peeking into the pantry.

“Dark and white chocolate.” You nod.

“Ooh, okay. Are we gonna make both?”

“Just dark chocolate chip cookies, but I’ll be adding a bit of white chocolate chips into the dough. I’m going to see Regina tomorrow so I thought I’d bring by a few for her— it’s her favourite. We used to bake a batch every weekend.”

“Aw.” Janis set down the two bags on the counter, “I think she’d really like that.”

You smiled, grabbing ahold of the measuring cup, “Will it be bad if I want you to stay over?”

“Why would that be bad? We can just get up a little earlier so I grab my bag on our way to school tomorrow. I don’t live that far away.” She squints.

“I just— don’t wanna seem…clingy.”

“Oh, no, no, no. You can cling onto me as much as you’d like. I love holding you.” Janis took the cup from the kitchen scale and dumped the flour in a big mixing bowl.

You pondered for a few seconds, taking a deep breath, “I uh, I still have these moments sometimes, that’s not good, you know? Talking about myself like that.”

“You got this, don’t worry about any of that when you’re with me. We can talk about anything— we always do.”

————

After school the next day, Janis drove you to the hospital as planned last night. While you walked into Regina’s hospital room, Janis sat in a plastic chair outside in the hallway after smooching you on the cheek. You also had to check with Regina’s nurse to see if she could have any outside food— she was allowed, so that was great.

“Hey, baby.” Regina looks up from her book in hand, setting it down as she locked eyes with you. She was in a good mood.

“Hi, Reg.” You mirrored her smile, “I brought you a new book, and some cookies— your favourite.”

“Aw.” She says, reaching out to grab your hand, “You didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to, it’s fine.” You chuckled, your eyes then noticing this paper chain hanging behind your sister on the wall.

“That is a little project one of my nurses had me do.” She realises, “I’ve been here twenty-two days now, so each loop represents one day— yellow means it was a good day, no restriction, no purging, orange means things were a little tough but nothing happened, and pink is the…worst case scenario.”

More than half the paper loops on the chain were yellow and orange. You were proud of how much better she seemed to be doing already.

“How was the book I brought you last time?” You asked.

“I’m nearly at the end of the book already, not much to do around here. So I’m very happy you brought me another one.” She shrugs, “Could you hand me the Tupperware?”

You took the Tupperware from the table you had set it down on, and gave it to her. She opened the lid and took a cookie out to eat it, “You want one?”

“Sure.” You nod, taking one for yourself as well.

“Did you give these to my nurses too?”

“No, I got them prepackaged snacks, I wasn’t sure if they could accept homemade food or anything.”

“Right.” Regina laughed lightly, taking a bite of the cookie as she set the container down on her bed, “Wait, you’ve been seeing Haley, right?”

“Yeah, I have.” You confirmed, “And I also decided that I’m going to come by a little less frequently.”

“Absolutely, you gotta do your own things too.” Regina agreed. “I would very much rather have you be busy with things that you like to do than come here too often. The environment can be a little intimidating and depressing not gonna lie. It’s also a hotbed for bacteria and infections, so— please don’t get sick.”

“I hear ya, Reg.” You chuckled over your words.

“Is that Janis outside?” Regina squints.

“Yeah. She drove me here but wasn’t sure if you’d want her in here.”

“She can come in if she wants, would be nice to see faces I actually know rather than a bunch of people who I’ve never even met before my stay here.”

“I’ll call her in.” You nod, shrugging before you got up from the plastic chair and got Janis to join you and Regina.

“Hey.” Janis waved.

“Hi.” Regina gave your girlfriend a tight-lipped smile, “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been pretty good. Having a lot of fun with your sister playing house. How’s therapy?”

“Janis!” You chided in a whisper.

Regina laughs though, “Actually, I’ve never been better. Sure my sessions went from one to like, three a week but that means I have ample time to work on myself. I’ve been struggling with all of it for so long, I’m actually just…relieved to be starting to get free from the claws of that horrible disorder. I want to get better, I know I am getting better but my main worry now is my ‘bad days’. I don’t want that, I’m not even thinking about that and sometimes they creep up on me and I don’t even realise.”

“Like you said, you are getting better. Which only means you’ll only improve more and more from this point.” Janis quipped.

Regina smiled appreciatively, “Thanks, I appreciate that. And for keeping my sister sane.”

You snorted, “Sane? She drives me insane.”

Janis’ mouth hung open, “What?”

“I don’t need to know that part. But, um— okay, good for you.”

“The first thing that comes to your mind is, that?” Janis teased.

“There’s no shame in that, come on.” Regina laughed heartily.

After a bit, you and Janis head home. Taking a shower, you decided you wanted to nap, so that’s what you did. Janis sat next to you, watching TV while you drifted off to dreamland feeling the soothing motions of Janis’ hand running up and down your back.

When you woke up, Janis was asleep next to you, laying on her stomach but faced towards you. You couldn’t help but smiled at the sight, pressing a kiss to her cheek before you got out of bed to see what you could make for dinner.

The decision? Spam Musubi. Low-effort, and doesn’t take long to make. So you were pretty sure you’d be done before Janis woke up. Plus, she’d get a little taste of home.In fact, you wound up having more than enough time to spare so you tried out a new cookie recipe that you were going to make for Regina at the next visit. You decided that every visit, you’d bring her a new flavour of cookie and a new book, just to keep things fresh. You knew she’d appreciate it.

Her hard work paid off. Over six months later, Regina was finally allowed to come home and continue her treatment outpatient. Your mom actually picked her up from there and drove her home. That surprised you because you weren’t so sure if you saw her do anything more than pay for the bills and expenses thus far. While they were on their way home, you and Janis made lunch. The rest of the group hung around and decorated the place before she got home.

You all hear a car pull into the driveway soon enough then the front door opens. “We’re home!” June announced.

Regina saw you first, and quite literally fought to hug you first. It made you laugh, but you took the win. “Hi, baby.” Regina hugs you tightly, pressing a kiss to your cheek, “It’s so good to be back home. Hi, guys. Thanks for doing this.”

“It’s nothing.” Gretchen beamed, “Good to have you closer to us again, G.”

Regina smiled back, giving the girl a hug. “So nice to see you, Gretch.”

Everyone else got a hug too, and as surprised as they were by the affection, they could take it. They would take a surprising hug any day over a fainting spell.

“Did you make cookies?” Regina gasped.

“Take a look for yourself.” You poked her on the arm. She held onto your hand while you all headed over to the kitchen/dining area.

“Holy shit.” Regina chuckles tearily, “Baby, this— I love it. I fucking love it. Thank you.”

Her favourite cookie flavour, big enough for everyone to share and in the shape of a rose. A white rose…Regina’s favourite flower. A flower that also symbolises new beginnings. How fitting.

“Okay, let’s dig in.” Regina declared, “They must’ve spent such a long time preparing all this. Guys— the place looks amazing, so does the food. Thank you, I really appreciate you all for doing this and sticking by me.”

💭A/N: Upload attempt number 3🥲 (please don’t disappear AGAIN)

[nanaslutt]

okey so brainrot: this is RLLY WEIRD IM SORRY but the reader is like innocent/shy and doesn't really have any experiences regarding sex so like one day she asks satoru to "show her" how to touch herself but he demonstrates it on a fruit (like on an orange? peach? or smth like that) then things get heated😉. I DONT KNOW IF I EXPLAINED THIS WELL

Gojo teaching you to touch yourself on an orange.. and things escalate..

contains: fem reader, teasing, sexual tension, fingering, guided masturbation, experienced gojo, readers first orgasm, he talks you through it, 99% of this is dirty talk and nasty dialogue

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

*Ding* the sound of a video recording starting chimed from Gojo’ phone, “Okay okay, say that again for me?~” The white haired man cooed cockily.

“Gojo you asshole! Ugh, forget it, I was stupid to ask you.” You threw your arms up in defeat, rolling your eyes as you turned to walk out of his room, embarrassed.

“Noooonono,” he cried, the chime sounded again, ending the video, “I’m sorry I shouldn’t tease you like that~” The man was suddenly behind you, wrapping his arms around your torso and rocking you side to side, “Forgive me, I was wrong okayy~” he tried to reason, he really didn’t want to blow this.

After all, his cute little friend had just burst into his room and confessed that she had never touched herself before and was wanting some guidance; knowing gojo had some experience with women under his belt, you came to him for help.

“To make it up to you, I won’t even make you pay for this session how bout that?” he grinned behind you annoyingly, poking his head out to the side of you so you could see his expression through your peripheral vision.

“What are you some sex therapist?” you laughed, making him sigh in relief. “I’ll be anything you need me to be~” he wiggled his eyebrows, making you shrug his heavy body off of you in faux disgust.

“So, you a visual learner? or more hands on?” He asked when you turned your body to face him once more, letting him drag you so you were sitting on the end of his bed.

“I’m not uh.. really sure when it comes to this.” you confessed. “You’re not sure of much huh?” he teased, making you punch his shoulder lightly, “haha, you’ll know soon if you’re a hands on learner or not.” he said ambiguously.

But you trusted gojo with this for some reason..

..which might’ve been a mistake.

You did not anticipate how riled up this situation would get you. You’ve always found gojo attractive; who didn’t; but you came to him because nothing had ever happened between the two of you before, you were friends, you were sure the atmosphere wouldn’t feel so embarrassing but—

“This is your clit, you wanna make little circles on it like this with one or two fingers,” The white haired man spoke, currently holding half an orange in one hand, and rubbing tight circles onto the suggestive looking slit of the fruit with the other.

Gojo was sat in front of you on his chair while you sat on the bed, his legs spread as he held the fruit out in front of him and instructed you on it.

“Don’t wanna go too fast either, wanna work yourself up a bit.” He spoke, looking up at you every so often to make sure you were paying attention; this was important after all.

“If you start getting too needy, rub your fingers down here-“ he dragged his long digits down to the middle of the fruit, presumably where the opening to your pussy would be.

He rubbed his fingers on the outside of the slit, in a ‘come hither’ motion; not inserting his fingers; just caressing them on the outside, occasionally rubbing them back and forth over the opening.

“You paying attention?” he checked, snapping you out of your stupor as your eyes flitted up to his, you were hoping the blush on your face wasn’t as evident as it felt. You just gave a curt nod at his question, not trusting your voice to sound steady right now.

The longer and longer this went on, the needier and needier you we’re feeling between your own legs, a heat was growing between them and you were praying gojo hadn’t noticed that your legs were crossed not in comfort but because you had been steadily squeezing them together and rubbing your pussy against the rough denim stitch your jeans made for awhile now.

“Good, it gets a little more interesting now so make sure you’re paying attention.” he says, waiting for you nod again before he continued.

“This is your vaginal opening, this is where you would put your little fingers inside yourself when you masturbate.” he said, “or get fucked heh,” he adds vulgarly, making himself smile.

“Start with one finger, especially since you’ve never done anything here before right?” He asks, still nonchalantly rubbing his fingers against the slit while he waits for you to once again acknowledge his words; his piercing blue eyes staring bullets through you as he does so.

“Y-yeah.” You verbally answered, silently begging for him to continue. If you tried hard enough, you could almost feel him touching you like that instead of the stupid fruit, who you were unnecessarily jealous of at the moment.

“It’s gonna be tight, and it might not feel like much at first-“ You held your breath as he spoke, waiting for his next moves. Gojo looked down at the fruit, teasing a circle around the slit one last time before he pressed the tip of his finger into the center deeper and deeper, making juices spill out around it. “But a couple inches inside, there’s gonna be a little rough patch.” he tells you.

“A rough patch?” you repeat, confused. “Your g-spot.” he answered, “It’s gonna make you feel soo good.” he smirks, looking up at you from his ministrations on the fruit. “All you gotta do is ruuub~ like this-“ he demonstrates, massaging upwards inside the slit of the fruit, making vulgar squelching noises emanate around the room.

“It’ll even sound similar if you’re doing it right,” he adds, giggling to himself. “Can you do both?” you ask, hoping the breathlessness of your words wasn’t able to be picked up by Gojo’s ears.

He tilts his head to the side for a second, questioning what you mean before his eyes light up when he fully registers what you were asking, “Ohhh~ You want me to show you how to touch your clit and finger yourself at the same time?” he asked, a slightly mocking lilt to his voice.

“Oh I just- I wanted to know if it was possible..” you shyly clarified, looking away for a second, suddenly way too aware of his eyes on you.

“Aww~ of course it’s possible!” he beamed. You watched his thumb come up and pet the top of the slit of the orange, where your clit would be, and rubbed back and forth when his fingers thrusted out of the slit. “You can use two hands if this is too uncomfortable,” He adds.

“Most women cant cum unless you give ur little clit some attention, even with how good touching yourself inside can feel.” Gojo spoke.

“Have you ever-“ you gulped, “made someone cum from just the inside?” you asked, taking the brief pause he took to answer to add, “I-I just wanna know if it’s p-possible is all!”

“Oh yeah~” he answers in a heartbeat after your last sentence, “Even made a couple squirt from just the inside too.” he brags.

“Shit,” you accidentally mumble, not meaning to actually say that our loud, “What was that?” he asks, playing dumb when he mentally recorded the word that fell from your lips, making his ego swell.

“Oh n-nothing.” you brushed it off, waving your hand in front of yourself, urging him to continue his teachings. “Make sure when your fingers are inside that pump them in-“ he slowly drags his fingers out of the fruit, juices coating them, making you squeeze your legs together at the lewd image, “and out, that you also curl them inside at the same time.” he instructs.

“That’s how you’re gonna make your g-spot happy and get the most of your pleasure.” Gojo finishes.

Your mouth was completely dry at this point, leg bouncing in impatience, still subtly squeezing your thighs together for even the smallest bit of relief while you watched the juices drip down his lengthy fingers.

“Well that’s about it for the basics, I think you can go pretty far with what i’ve taught you, if you can remember it all.” He giggles, raising from the chair and moving to set the fruit on the table.

“Wait!” you say a little too loudly, hopping he didn’t sense the need in your voice, “Um.. I think I might be a hands on learner..” You confess, “I’m still a little confused..”

Gojo stops in his tracks, retracting his hand that’s holding the fruit back towards his body as a sinister smirk grows on his face. “Yeah?” he asks, cheering internally when you not coyly.

“Alright then, class is back in session!!” he throws his hands up, walking over to you.

When you think he’s going to sit back down in the chair he actually walks past it, and past you. You turn your head to see where he was going but your muscles freeze and tense up when you feel the bed dip behind you, followed by his strong chest pressing snugly against your back.

“This okay?” he asks before he continues, to which you nod. “Need to hear you say it, sweets.” You blush at the nickname, glad he can’t see your face like this, “Yes, this is okay.” you confirm softly.

“Alright, here” he holds the fruit out to you, and you take it in both your smaller hands. “I’m gonna walk you through it, that sound okay?” he checks, smiling to himself when you let out a meek ‘mhm.’

He pulls the both of you further back on the bed, so he’s resting comfortably upright against the bed frame, and you following suit against his chest. “Comfortable?” the while haired man whispers far too close to your ear.

“Y-yes,” you confirm once more, the hitch of your breath made him smile to himself.

“Okayy~ Ideally you would want to work yourself up by playing with your chest first,, slowly drag your fingers down your body, touch yourself over your pants and all that— but we only have an orange so this will have to do!” he says, not realizing (?) how hot his words were making you.

“Start by slowly touching your clit.” He spoke, as if you were really touching yourself right now. Your shaky fingers came down to find the top of the slit, rubbing one finger against where you guessed your clit would be, as he watched intently over your shoulder.

“Yeah, right there good job.” he praised, making you wish you were back to sitting on the bed with your legs crossed so you could squeeze them together. It would be a little too risky to try anything when he was so close to you, you bet he could hear your heartbeat beating out of your chest from how the two of you were squished together right now.

“A little faster now.” he instructed, licking his lips behind you as he felt your breath pick up when you drew faster circles against the fruit, wet ‘schlick’ noises echoing in your ears.

“Like this?” you asked, switching up the direction of the circles every so often, “Oh yeah, you’re a pro,” he giggled into your ear, sending goosebumps down your spine, “You sure you’ve never touched yourself before?”

“Well I have but it.. it didn’t feel like much.” you confessed, blushing at your own revealing words. “I see..” he ponders, cerulean eyes focused on your smaller fingers playing with the fruit.

“I have an idea, something that might help you understand a little better, if your open to it,” he pauses you, his big hand coming to stop your movements against the orange.

“Um, what is it?” you ask hesitantly. The white haired man leaned a little too close for comfort, making you whine out loud when he whispered, “You trust me?” into the shell of your ear.

Truthfully, Gojo had been hard from the moment you asked him to teach you how to touch yourself. Stealing glances at your thighs pressing together not so subtly when he was talking you through step by step how to pleasure yourself, watching you suck your lip into your mouth when his words became a little too dirty, how your breath picked up when he inserted his fingers into the slit of the fruit.

He was losing his mind, his patience was wearing increasingly thinner and thinner at your reactions, he knew exactly what he was doing to you, and your obliviousness was making his cock drip pre steadily into his boxers.

Thank god for his baggy sweater or you might’ve (100% would’ve) noticed the huge hard on he was sporting in his sweats. He was surprised you didn’t say anything when he was pressed against your back, assuming you were too enthralled and overwhelmed with what was going on to notice.

“I trust you.” you responded honestly, making his cock twitch against the fabric that confined it.

“I’m gonna touch this fruit just how I just showed you, and you’re going to mimic me, on yourself.” He whispered, his hot breath against the shell of your ear making you shiver.

“R-right here? now?” you asked clarifying his words, slight panic and embarrassment seeping into your tone. “I saw you rubbing your thighs together, you’re aching for it, right? What better time to practice getting off when you’re actually all worked up?” He made a good point, you’ve been wanting to touch yourself for half an hour now, you were sure you had completely soaked through your panties by this point.

You made a sound of embarrassment, eyes darting around the room at him having exposed you, “Awww heh, don’t be embarrassed, I’m in the same boat.” he confessed, trying to comfort you, “Been so hard since you asked me for help.”

His words did little to comfort you, making you even more flustered as you covered your eyes with the hand you weren’t holding the orange in, “Okay- just.. just do something, please.” you begged, not being able to take the throbbing between your own legs anymore.

“Okay okay, all you gotta do is follow my lead, kay?” he clarifies, grabbing your wrist and pulling off of your face so he could see your expression from the side. When he heard you let out a meek ‘okay’ he reached for the orange and set it down on the bed for a moment.

“Go ahead and take off your pants for me,, leave your panties on.” Came Gojo’s first instructions. You followed, leaning forward and away from his chest, your fingers worked quickly at undoing your button and zipper, sliding your fingers underneath the waistband as you pulled the garment off your body, revealing your soft-looking skin to Gojos eyes.

When you leaned back against him he dragged the tips of his fingers along your thighs, his assumption of your soft skin becoming true as he dragged his digits all the way up to your hips, gripping your waist for a moment before he complimented, “So fucking soft.”

“Spread your legs pretty,” His soothing voice told you, staring intently between your legs, wishing he had a better view, but after this little scene he had high hopes he would have no problem getting a closer look at you.

You did as you were told, you parted your knees, feet propped up on the bed as you waited with bated breath for his next instruction, feeling yourself throb behind the drenched fabric.

He reached for the fruit again, holding it with both hands in front of you, as he started tapping with one long finger on the ‘clit’ of the orange. When you didn’t move your own finger to repeat him he pats your pelvis lightly with his hand, “I know i’m addicting to watch, but you gotta touch yourself too.” He laughs, making you snap out of your stupor as you forgot you were supposed to be mimicking him.

“S-sorry, do it again.” you request, really focusing on his fingers against the fruit this time while you started sliding your own fingers inside your panties.

“Uh-uh” he warned, his voice alone stopping your hand in its tracks, “Over your panties, I’ll tell you when to touch yourself directly, I’ll take care of everything.” He explains, leaving a small peck against the side of your head.

“Alright, just pay attention that’s all you gotta do.” Gojo starts up again, tapping his fingers on the fruit and this time you follow him, tapping your finger over your wet panties, right against your clit.

The little stimulation alone was so intense, after being worked up for so long this relief was much needed. “Feels good to touch yourself after being so horny huh?” He spoke, like he was reading your mind.

‘Mhm’ you respond, letting your body relax against him, your head coming back to lay against his chest as you let yourself feel what he was allowing you to.

“I bet it does..” Gojo smirks, looking at your lithe shaky fingers tapping softly against your clothed mound. After a couple of seconds he decided to press against the fruit, starting up the small circles, “lightly.” He reminded.

You followed suit, the circles felt worlds better than the tapping, the consistent pressure and pattern was making you dizzy. The first actual whimper of the night left your lips and it made Gojo’s cock twitch in his pants.

He cooed at you when you squeezed your eyes shut, mouth dropping open in a small o shape while you continued your ministrations, “Cant follow directions with your eyes shut can you? Or you got some kinda super power I’m unaware of~?” he joked, making you crack your eyes open and look at his fingers again.

You noticed he had picked up his pace, you were unsure of when he did but you were happy you noticed now. You were appreciative at getting to touch yourself but were growing needy with the slow pace of his fingers. “F-fuck.” You gasped out, your hips bucking into your finger as you quickened the movement.

“Talk to me, how’s it feel.” Gojo was growing impatient himself, he loved teasing you and he knew he should take this slow especially since it was your fist time touching yourself properly— but the thought of pressing your back down into a mean arch while he just pulled your panties aside and fucked his cock into you at the hilt was constantly in the back of his mind.

He loved teasing his sex partners, but he’s never done anything like this before. Taking it this slow and instructing someone like this was new to him. It was so intimate, and so soft, and his dick really fucking liked it.

“F-feels so good, I- I wanna take my panties off.” you confessed, your ass bumping against his hard on every time your hips humped against your finger. “Yeah? Wanna touch your wet pussy directly?” He spoke, biting his lip as he held back a groan.

“Yes-yes- please..” You begged, the way he was talking was making your need to have something inside you— to feel more—so much worse.

“Soon, I promise.” He said, rubbing his long fingers against the slid of the fruit, making quiet squelching noises as he ran his finger up and down the length of it. He smiled to himself when you listened quicker this time, you were catching on.

You rubbed two fingers over the length of your pussy, moaning when he stopped his movements and pressed on and off against the hole of the fruit, where the opening of your pussy would be.

You repeated the action, feeling the fabric of your wet panties get pushed against the entrance of your little hole, “I cant tell if those sounds are you, or the fruit.” Gojo laughed breathlessly, becoming dizzy at the squelching that became louder and louder in his ears.

“Gojo..” you wined needily into the air. “Okay, okay,” His resolve cracked much faster than it normally would’ve. He knew he was the one in control right now but it felt like you had him on a leash, controlling his every move. Just a couple of wines from you was enough to make him fold, giving in to what you wanted.

He grinned watching you hastily remove your panties and spreading your legs once more, being so obedient by not immediately touching yourself and instead digging your nails into your thighs and waiting for his fingers to move against the orange.

He wanted to see how long you could hold out, but his dick and head alike were yelling at him to move his own fingers so he could watch you touch yourself, so that’s exactly what he did. Using two long fingers he rubbed hard circles again the fruit, his giggles shaking your body when you jumped into action with no hesitation, rubbing and pinching your clit between your fingers as you slid them back and forth, spelling letters and drawing shapes on it— whatever gojo did, you did.

“Fuck Gojo, this feels so good-“ you moaned, fighting the urge to let your head fall back as you felt an unfamiliar coil tighten itself in your tummy.

“I know baby I know.” His voice spoke with need, taking all four of his fingers and smacking them against the entire fruit, just so you would repeat him so he could hear how wet you were. “Oh shiit, you’re fucking drenched.” He groaned, his eyes briefly rolling back into his head before he started rubbing little circles again.

“This turning you on? huh?” He spoke, “You like when I show you how to treat your little pussy?” His words made you moan, going off of his instruction and quickening the pace of your fingers against yourself, “I know you wanna cum but you gotta slow down, I didn’t speed up my fingers so you don’t get to either~” Gojo reminded.

Being the obedient girl you were, you slowed your fingers down, “Sorry, ‘m sorry,” you apologized profusely, “It’s alright,” He smiled, “It just feels so good huh?” Again, it was like he was reading your mind.

“So good, s-so so good.” you whine. “Let’s make you feel ever better, huh?” Gojo spoke against your ear, his breathy laugh tickling your skin. He dragged his fingers down to the slit of the fruit, just teasing the entrance, watching your fingers do the same.

“I cant go as deep on my model here, but when I put them inside, I want you to go deep okay?” He said. “Okay, okay.” You rush, anxious but excited to have something inside of you.

“Good girl, such a good listener.” He praised, making your cunt clench around nothing. “Okay, here we go~” Gojo slowly pushed a single finger into the fruit, his jaw dropping with a smile when he watched your smaller finger insert itself into your walls.

“Yeahhh, how does that feel?” He asks, his cock dripping out more pre into his boxers, throbbing and twitching against its confines. “Fuck.. ‘s tight.” you whine, making him groan into the air.

“Yeah? Can you feel yourself twitching?” Gojo is trying to pull as many details out of you as he can, his cock was aching for it. “Y-yes, so much- ngh-“ you choke on a moan when you start to slide your finger it in and out, following Gojo’s lead.

“Remember to curl your finger twords the top of your tummy when you put it inside,” He instructs, watching your body jolt when you follow his instruction. “Oh fu-“ you cut yourself off with a breathless moan when you feel it— your gspot.

You’ve never felt anything like this before, it almost felt more intense than touching your clit, but drastically different, you didn’t know what part was your favorite— you were becoming enthralled with your own body.

“Fuck it- it feels so good Gojo-“ you whine, turning your head against his chest so you’re making eye contact with him. “I know baby I knoww~” He cooes down at you, shaking his head.

“Put another finger when you can take it, it’ll feel so much better.” he reveals, sucking his bottom lip into his mouth while he waited with bated breath as you pulled out your finger, covered in your juices— which made him grown— before you reinserted it, this time with your ring finger joining in tandem.

“Ohmygod-“ you cry, “It’s s-so much tighter gojo-“ you looked back down at his fingers, mimicking his increasingly rough pace as he looses his mind a bit at your use of his last name.

“Satoru baby, call me satoru.” He desperately needed to hear you say his name properly, every cell in his body was aching for it. “Sa-toru! Toru fuck!” you whine. His eyes roll back, his head falling suit and bumping against the headboard at his name leaving your lips.

“Yeah, keep saying my name sweet thing,” he groaned, not able to stop himself from humping against your lower back any longer, the air around you becoming increasingly thicker at how aroused the two of you were becoming.

Suddenly something snapped inside Gojo and he discarded the orange on the floor, wrapping one strong arm around your torso while he brought his juice soaked fingers to your lips, tapping them for you to open up for him.

“Yesss, good fucking girl, don’t stop your fingers- fuckkk-“ The white haired man groaned when your tongue eagerly licked around his fingers, he groaned at the warmth of your mouth, pushing his fingers as far as you would let him into your mouth, coughing a bit around them when they tickled the back of your throat.

“Play with your clit too sweetie, wanna see you cum all over your fingers.” He directed, keeping his fingers snug in your mouth as you moaned and whined around them, his other hand gripping the side of your waist strong enough to leave bruises as your other hand joined the mix on your pussy, rubbing quick circles with perfect pressure right against your clit.

“Fuck, you feel it? You gonna cum?” He groaned when your body jerked more frequently, breath coming in shorter pants as well, a sign of your impending orgasm.

You nodded against him, moaning around his fingers as you quickened your thrusts, the squelching emanating louder in the room as your juices started pooling around your fingers.

“Yesyesyes, take it, keep rubbing your clit just like that, fuck-“ Gojo felt like he was about to cum himself, lightheaded and entranced at the scene in front of him— watching you please yourself so eagerly. He couldn’t believe he was about to witness your first ever orgasm, something he only ever dreamed about.

You tried to speak his name around his fingers, warning him you were about to cum but it came out muffled. He removed his fingers from your mouth, grabbing your jaw with the same hand, and smearing your spit messily against your skin— he directed your head to look between your legs.

“Watch yourself cum baby, want you to take it all in, remember how fucking good this feels.” He instructed, as you whined and moaned his name freely into the room.

“Toru- I- I think i’m cumming!! fuck-“ you cried, squeezing your eyes shut as the dam broke.

“Oh yesyesyes- there you fucking go~ good fucking girl~” He talked you through it as you came all over your fingers— cum gushing out around them as your cunt pulsed around your digits, body jerking in on itself after every wave of your high, your legs and hands shaking at the intensity.

You panted as you came down from your first ever orgasm, barely registering that Gojo was praising you as your mind felt fuzzy, you were feeling complete bliss, you couldn’t believe it took you so long to finally do this— you were addicted.

“Satoru- ngh-“ you whined in sensitivity as you slowly pulled out your fingers, holding your soaked digits up into the air and blushing at how they shined in the light with how wet they were.

Gojo reached for your wrist, shamelessly bringing your hand to his mouth as he sucked your fingers into his mouth, moaning and eyes rolling back at the taste. Your face blushed increasingly darker at his antics, clenching your thighs at how his soft tongue felt cleaning off your fingers.

After he popped them out of his mouth a dopey grin made itself home on his face, “So fucking sweet too.” he praised, licking his lips to clean up any drop of your juices he might’ve missed.

Gojo squeezed his arm around you tighter, gripping your face once more as he made you turn your head more directly towards him before he spoke again, “Wanna learn how to touch a dick next?”

pt. 2 here

[maskedbyghost]

lets continue our talk about situationship!Simon, where this bitch grovels for monthssss

_______________________________________________

situationship!simon starts sending you text messages. before you could expect something like "you up?" or "come to my office.", but after you broke things off with him, simon started sending you heartfelt text messages, apologizing for his past behavior. “i’ve been thinking a lot about what happened between us,” he texted one night. “i realize now how much i hurt you, and i’m truly sorry, love. i understand if you need space, but i wanted you to know how much i regret everything.”

along with his messages, simon started sending you small but meaningful gifts. he remembered how you’d joked about his tea obsession once and that you’d mentioned you only liked chamomile. to your surprise, he found the best brand of chamomile tea and even packed it in a nice box before delivering it to your room.

he even started to open up more. during a late-night phone call, where you could clearly hear that he was drunk, simon said that he started seeing a therapist. “i’m workin on understandin my issues and changin for the better. i want to be better, not just for you love, but for myself. i hope you can see that i’m tryin to change.”

when you asked him to stop calling you love, he refused. “i can’t help it. you’re mine in a way no one else could be, and i don’t want to pretend otherwise.”

as simon keeps showing up with gifts and heartfelt messages, you can’t help but wonder if he’s being real or if he’s just trying to win you back before breaking your heart again.

you still go on dates with other people, and simon is tormented every time he sees you leaving the base in those pretty dresses—dresses he wishes were just for him. he follows you, quietly lurking in the corners of the restaurants or bars where you’re out with your dates. oddly enough, most of the guys you go out with either get transferred to another base or stop calling you after just one date, and you’re doing your best not to blame simon for it. but you know it's him. and he is not sorry at all.

almost every day, simon texts you, asking you out on dates and planning special things for the who of you. all you have to do is say yes, but each time, you refuse. it breaks his heart every time, but it also makes him more determined to try even harder. he knows he deserves this treatment from you.

back when you and simon used to train together on base, it was a special routine you both enjoyed. now, you’ve started asking other guys to help you with exercises, and it drives him wild with jealousy. watching their hands on you makes him see red. after your training sessions with them, simon invites these guys to spar with him. it quickly becomes clear that he’s using these sparring matches as a chance to take out his frustration and anger, landing a few extra hits just to make his point.

despite everything, you still won’t budge, and it’s only making simon more frustrated. the truth is, it’s becoming harder and harder for you to resist him. his persistence is wearing you down, and the more he pushes, the more you find yourself struggling to stay strong.

simon invites you to one of his therapy sessions, saying his therapist thinks it would be helpful for him and his progress. during the session, he opens up about his struggles and insecurities, laying everything bare. as he talks, you start to feel sympathy for him. it’s clear he’s determined to change and work on himself, and you see how genuine his efforts are.

one night, you were preparing tea in the kitchen when a girl you know from the base asked for simon’s number. she mentioned she was interested in him, which made you jealous. you snapped at her, making it clear that he would never be interested in a girl like her. simon overheard the whole thing and couldn’t help but smirk to himself. it was clear you still had feelings for him, and he took a bit of satisfaction in that.

later that night he sent one simple message to you: "that's my girl. i belong to you, and you only."

after that message, simon stepped up his game. he started sending you lots of sweet texts and little gifts, and even took care of some of your paperwork. it was hard to ignore how much he was trying, and you found it tougher to resist him as he kept showing you how much he cared.

a few months after managing to ignore simon as best as you could, you caught a nasty cold and were stuck in your room. you only texted price to let him know you needed a few days off because you were sick, and got back in your bed trying to sleep that cold off. a few hours later, as you were still trying to fall asleep, you heard your door open. simon walked in, carrying a bunch of bags, a worried look on his face.

“i came as soon as I could,” simon said, worry in his voice. “i brought you soup and medicine.”

simon didn’t leave your side for days. he only went back to his room to grab more clothes and shower. he was insistent on helping you with everything, even assisting you with your showers in the most respectful way possible of course. he’d sit in a chair next to your bed, and you felt a pang of guilt seeing how much he was giving up for you. you even tried to convince him to go get some rest, but despite your protests, he somehow ended up in your bed, gently spooning you as you slept.

simon would whisper sweet things in your hair, thinking you were asleep. you heard every word as he softly talked about how much he missed you, how sorry he was for everything, and how he wanted to make things right. even though you were sick and exhausted, his words touched you deeply.

once you were feeling better, you found simon sitting alone in a common room, lost in thought. you approached him quietly and gently kissed the side of his face. with a soft smile, you whispered, “take me on that date you promised.”

_______________________________________________

@daydreamerwoah

[paradiseprincesss]

the boy is mine | jonathan crane

masterlist

yeah so i wrote this in literally record timing because the music video to the boy is mine is so jonathan crane and his girl coded. i'd like to think i'm keeping u guys fed with all my fics i hope u like !!!

summary: you’re set on doing anything to make that boy yours, and the plan you curated is absolutely purrrfect.

word count: 4.3k

warnings: 18+ mdni, smut, p in v, oral (f!receiving), bondage/tying up, rough sex, overstimulation, creampie, stalking, obsessive behaviour, therapist/patient relationship at one point lol

“perfect.” you whisper to yourself as you poured the last drop of the glittery, pink liquid into the small vile, swirling it around as you popped a cork into the top.

you smiled proudly as you sat on the kitchen floor of your apartment, holding up the vile to get a good look at it under the moonlight. it was fool proof — he’d for sure be yours after you forced him to drink this.

some would say you were a little unhinged, but you preferred the term creative. you were a little obsessed with your old therapist, doctor jonathan crane. you started seeing him when you stumbled across his pictures online, and you knew you had to have him. you booked your first session with him roughly nine months ago, and he was there for you every step of the way.

you didn’t actually need therapy (well…), but you still booked sessions with him because he was yours. it was meant to be. you couldn't unsee it. during your first ever session with him, you made sure to put on your cutest, most feminine and dainty mini dress, paired with some matching high heels. you even did your hair and makeup with precision. jonathan didn’t show it on his face, but when you sat there in that leather chair across from him for the first time, his heart started to beat a million miles a minute.

you were jaw-dropping. he couldn’t believe someone could actually possess such beauty, and though he tried to stay professional, it was proving to be quite difficult. every time you spoke, every time you smiled at him, every time you did absolutely anything — he would become more and more infatuated with you.

“i just wish he didn’t leave me, you know?” you say softly, feigning innocence, “it’s been so hard without a man to take care of me.”

jonathan clenched his jaw silently, he couldn’t believe that a man would be stupid enough to break-up with someone like you. be professional, he reminded himself.

“understandably so,” he said clinically, “i can only imagine how difficult it would be to have a relationship like that end so abruptly.”

“it was so difficult,” you say, your eyes watering, “but, i think i’m slowly starting to move on.”

of course, such "ex-boyfriend" did not exist. this was all part of your elaborate act to make him think you were an innocent, naive girl who was heartbroken and needed someone to save her. that someone being him, of course.

he was made for somebody like you.

you only had seven sessions between the two of you before jonathan abruptly reassigned you to his colleague, doctor webber. she wasn’t anything like doctor crane — she didn’t understand you the way that he did.

good things come to those who wait, but patience wasn’t your thing.

“i’m sorry,” jonathan doctor crane said to you, “as much as i want to continue to be there for you and your journey of growth, i believe that my colleague would be better suited to your…needs.”

“what are you talking about, doctor crane?” you asked, trying to to hide the desperation in your voice.

“i have another patient i must attend to,” he says flatly, informing you that your session had come to an end, “but i wish you all the best.”

and with that, he sent you to see doctor webber. of course, you were heartbroken. how could your soulmate do that to you? but jonathan wasn’t doing it because he didn’t want to see you — it was quite the opposite, actually. he knew that feeling this way about his patient was so very wrong, and if he continued to see you, he wouldn’t be able to control himself.

really, he did this for you.

as you placed your little love concoction on the kitchen counter, you turned on your tv. jonathan was supposed to be doing a segment with the mayor of gotham tonight about the crime rates in the city, and what him and his team at arkham asylum were doing to solve the issue. as his face appeared on tv, you sighed to yourself. he was so handsome in his suit and tie — and those sexy little glasses?

meow.

the chilly gust of wind made you shiver for a moment, but your latex bodysuit kept you warm enough — well, not really. with your little cat ear headband, you toss your hair over your shoulders as you quietly make your way into the silent home. your black pumps were surprisingly silent against the wood floors, and you crept into the living room where a woman sat on the couch watching tv.

you went undetected as she completely missed your presence. stealthily, you creep behind her until suddenly, you yanked her by her hair. she screamed loudly, and your hand immediately went up to her mouth to clasp down on it; you were getting really good at this.

“don’t scream,” you whisper, “i just came here to tell you to stay away from my man.”

slowly, you remove your hand and she looks back at you with sheer terror, “wh-who’s your man?” she asked with fear laced in her voice.

you hated this bitch — she was one of jonathans patients. there was nothing going on between them, you knew that (plus you would’ve murdered her if there was!), but you had spent the last few weeks…"cleaning up the streets."

these ratty bitches had to go; any woman who was his patient or in his life at all had to go. you even dressed the part with your sexy little cat costume and all. you know what they say — in the eternal game of cat and mouse, there are no winners, only survivors.

“doctor jonathan crane,” you said dreamily, but your tone turned sinister within seconds, “and if you ever go see him again, i will find you, trust me. i've already found you once, and you don't want me to come prowling back around.”

the woman nodded frantically, and you went on your merry way. this was the last one, you were certain. you’d even made a list of all the women to threaten so that you could make sure they would stay away from your man. finally, you made your way home and started to wind down from all the break-ins you’d been making recently. it was hard work chasing down all these…mice.

jonathan noticed that his belongings were going missing here and there over the last few months, and he knew something strange was going on. he wasn’t sure what the hell was happening, but something was off.

first, little things such as his favourite pen (yes, he has a favourite pen) went missing. then, a few patient files would seemingly disappear along with some sticky notes he had stuck on his desk the day prior. he didn’t think too much of it until one of his credit cards went missing from his wallet — but there weren't any fraudulent charges made.

he even continued to monitor his bank account and freeze his card, but no charges were ever made on it regardless. the last straw was when his spare house key went missing. even for a man as smart as jonathan, he could not figure out who was doing this for the life of him.

you were still attending your regular sessions with doctor webber, but you deliberately booked your appointments on days you knew jonathan was working. you knew you’d run into him either on your way in or way out, and you also knew he wasn’t that booked up anymore since most of his clientele went…missing.

as you said your farewell to doctor webber, you noticed jonathan walking out of his office. he noticed you immediately, giving you a soft smile as you turned to close the door to doctor webbers office. he said your name softly, causing you to almost choke on your own words as you clutched his house keys behind your back.

“doctor crane,” you say softly, “hey.”

“just jonathan is fine,” he said, but he internally scolded himself for saying that, “how have you been?”

“great,” you say sweetly, “doctor webber is…great.”

“that’s wonderful to hear,” he says, “it was nice seeing you again. take care.”

you two parted ways, and once jonathan was back at his apartment — he was to refrain himself from calling you. god, you looked so good today. with those little dresses of yours and good grief, those sexy, little heels you always paired them with. he grabbed himself a glass of whiskey, neat, and took a swig as he thought about you.

why did you have to be on his mind so much, and dear god, why did you have to be so fucking beautiful?

with a frustrated sigh, he looked at his front door, thinking about his keys that suddenly went missing just a week prior. was he overthinking things? was he just imagining it? did he lose his own keys and forget?

he was a psychiatrist for gods sake, why was he driving himself crazy over this? with so many questions and no answers, he made his way to his bathroom as he flicked his kitchen lights off.

the cold water ran from the bathroom sink as he splashed it on his face after removing his glasses, and he looked at himself in the mirror to get a grip. his pale, icy, blue eyes bore into his own reflection, and-

what was that?

he turned around swiftly, turning the tap off, watching as something, no — someone’s perfectly manicured hand ghosted over the edge of his bathroom doorframe.

he couldn’t see anything — the kitchen light was turned off, and the only thing turned on was his dim bathroom light. the master of fear himself felt a little fearful in this moment as he watched the dainty, feminine hand retract and move back into the shadows and he could've sworn he saw...cat ears?

jonathan had to blink a few times to make sure that he hadn’t spilled a vile of his own fear toxin somewhere and that he wasn’t just hallucinating off of it.

hesitantly, he pushed open his bathroom door only to be met with the darkness of his kitchen. his breath hitched as he flicked on the kitchen lights, but he was met with an empty, quiet space. his eyes quickly darted to the front door, but it was locked shut.

but if the door was locked shut, what did he just see? who did he just see? was the scarecrow himself starting to succumb to silly, little, irrational fears? before his mind could start to wander anymore, he heard a familiar sound.

a certain, distinct, and awfully familiar sound of high heels clicking against the wood flooring — and it was coming right from his bedroom. jonathan went over to his bedroom, swinging the door open unsure of what he might see, only to be met with a sight that made him feel weak in the knees.

you were propped up on his bed, in a latex body suit and high heels, along with cat ears to complete your rather sexy costume. you batted your eyelashes at him innocently, and bit your lip as you showed him the rope in your hands.

“how did you…” he whispered, watching you bite your lip as he trailed off.

“doctor,” you purred, “let’s get intertwined.”

“what the fuck…” he whispered once more, watching you as if in a mesmerized trance.

jonathan couldn’t lie — as much as he should have been terrified and calling the cops, he was awfully turned on right now. jesus christ, that latex cat costume that left absolutely nothing to the imagination? yeah, he was hard the moment he saw you.

“i know it’s simply meant to be.” you say softly, and as if his mind could not control his body, he was making his way over to you on his bed.

“um, what-“

“shh,” you hush him, suddenly grabbing him as you swiftly tie a knot around his wrists, “you don’t need to speak, baby boy.”

in mere seconds you had the scarecrow tied up on his own bed, restrained as you looked down at him. jonathan sat there looking up at you — yes, you were hot but you were clearly also insane.

to be fair, so was he.

he didn't bother trying to get himself out of the ropes. he knew that if he tried to struggle you'd most definitely do something not so pleasant to him. also, if he was being honest — this was hot. like, really hot.

"i just need you to do me a favour, baby boy," you giggle, your high heels clicking against the wood flooring once more, "drink this for me, and know that if you refuse, you won't live to see another day."

you held up a vile of pink, shimmery liquid. jonathan looked at you with a raised brow, and hesitantly nodded.

"...i'll drink it if you answer some questions that i have." he says, trying to bargain with you.

"fine," you shrug, "but make it quick."

"alright, first of all, how did you get in here?" he asked.

"easy, i crawled in through your window. next." you say in an awfully innocent voice.

"are you the one that's been taking my stuff?" he asks, and you nod.

"of course, i needed your stuff for my collection." you say whimsically, biting your lip at the thought of your homemade jonathan crane shrine.

in your apartment, you had a wall dedicated to him. it had cut outs of him, printed pictures, his belongings, his address, photos of him when he was younger — the list just goes on. all just regular, boring, stalker stuff, really.

"no more questions," you huff, "drink up, baby boy."

"what is it?" he asked, to which you rolled your eyes.

"an at-home love potion. i'm going to untie you for this — and if you even attempt to run, i will slice your heart in two." you say with an adorable smile.

jonathan doesn't offer a response, but rather opts out for a simple nod. you slowly untie his wrists, handing him the pink, glittery liquid in the vile. you watch him in awe as he closes his eyes and takes it like a shot, smiling to yourself as you realize that he's finally going to be all yours.

this little concoction that you had whipped up was the real deal — you'd even tested it on other men to see if it did what it was intended to do. it worked on them, bringing these men to their knees for you, but it's not like you really had any trouble doing that without a love potion, anyway.

after jonathan drinks it all, he looks back at you blankly. unbeknownst to you, when you were popping the cork off of the potion, he sneakily grabbed a vile of his fear toxin that was stashed by the foot of his bed — just in case you tried to actually murder him.

his plan was to immediately throw the vile at you and watch you succumb to your fears, but if he was being honest, he wanted to see what this shitty little "love potion" could do. he was a man of science, after all.

"i don't feel anything," he said after a moment, "looks like your potion didn't work after all-"

you cut him off with a small giggle, "you don't feel any different?"

"no."

"i've tested it, i know it works," you giggled, "that means if you don't feel any different from before, then you must already love me-"

suddenly, he lunged at you, making you scramble as you tried to fight back. however, he was much stronger than you, making it physically impossible to overpower him. after struggling for a good minute, he had you tied down on the bed like you had him just moments before.

"you're sick in the head," he says, but you could've sworn you saw him smirking, "you're real fucking twisted, you know that? i could call the cops and have you arrested right now."

"do it," you teased, "i dare you to, baby boy."

jonathan suddenly grabbed you by the neck, "what was that?"

you had you refrain from smiling as he choked you softly, feeling yourself get wet from just a second of his touch. you knew exactly what he wanted now.

"sorry," you corrected, "i dare you, sir."

"there we go." he says as he lets go of your throat.

he rummages through his bedside drawer and pulls out some of his own rope, causing your mind to spin at the idea of what he was going to do to you. you didn't run when he untied your wrists initially, but he took a few moments to tie both your wrists up to his bedposts, essentially tying you up so you couldn't move your hands at all.

"oh," you say with a teasing voice, "i see where this is going."

he smirks at you, admiring how sexy you look all tied up in his bed, with your costume and all. he takes his phone out and shamelessly takes a picture with the flash on, and you could feel that you were leaking your arousal down his bedsheets by now.

it seemed that your love potion didn't work on him because, well, he was already obsessed with you.

of course he was — but jonathan was known for his good work ethic. he only gave you up as a patient because it was only a matter of time before he would give in and most likely fuck you on the couch in his office. he just didn't know it was mutual at the time. if he did, well — that's a story for another day.

"maybe i should punish you," he smirks, making his way over to you on the bed, "you've been so disobedient."

"m'sorry, sir," you whimper, "you just make me crazy."

"i know," he cooed condescendingly, "but i think i can fix that, darling."

"you can?"

"i most definitely can," he says lowly, "it might take a few sessions to cure you, but i have a method i think might work on you. i'm gonna fuck you 'till you can't think anymore, no more thoughts after that. sound good?"

you nodded frantically, "mhm, yes. please, fuck yes."

he smirked at you, his hands reaching towards the top of your bodysuit. slowly, he reached his hands behind and unzipped it, slipping it off of you slowly.

"i like the cat costume," he chuckles lowly, "the ears are a cute touch."

you blushed, biting your lip as he slipped you right out of your latex bodysuit. obviously, you wore nothing underneath — not even panties. jonathan groaned at the sight because seriously, no panties? with your wrists tied up and unable to touch him, you were getting pent up real fast.

"i wanna touch you," you whined, "please."

he smirked, "if only you didn't break into my apartment like a stray."

before you could even formulate a proper response, he was crawling between your legs, spreading them out as he got onto his stomach. without warning, he licked a fat stripe up your already soaking cunt, latching his mouth onto your pussy. your back arched at the feeling, and he continued to lap you up.

"f-fuck, jon," you breathed, "feels s-so good."

"i know." he said cooly against your core, lapping up your arousal continuously as you moaned over and over again.

it was sinful how skilled he was with his tongue — it hadn't even been a full five minutes and you were already on the brink of creaming all over his face. he didn't give you any mercy as he continued to eat you out like a starved man, and your wrists were burning against the rope as you tugged on them.

god, the things you would do to run your hands through his soft, dark, and now tousled hair.

"nnnghh," you whimper, "i'm, ah- gon' cum!"

the coil in your stomach snapped as your release hit you like a freight train, making you scream his name as he made you cum. you were left a panting mess, and he finally released the grip he had on your thighs. after wiping his pink, plump lips along with his chin which glistened with your wetness, he smiled softly at you.

"taste s'good," he commented, "you look so pretty like this, darling. tied up and helpless."

"n-need you," you whisper, "baby, please."

this time, he didn't correct you and demand you call him "sir." maybe it was the heat of the moment or maybe it was the realization that he had finally met a woman who was as unhinged as he was. deep down, he was really loving the idea.

he started to undo his belt, making sure to keep his eyes locked on yours, teasing you as he undid his belt at a painfully slow pace. finally, after what felt like an eternity (it maybe thirty seconds at most), his cock sprung out of his pants, hitting his stomach lightly. it was long, veiny, and thick. how was that supposed to fit inside of you? surely it would split you open.

"cat got your tongue?" he teased as he unbuttoned his white button-down, stroking his cock a few times as your hips bucked into nothing.

"uh-huh." you whispered in awe, biting your lip at the thought of how his size was going to stretch you beyond your limits.

with a low chuckle, he lined his thick cock up with your begging hole, pushing in slowly as you felt him stretch your cunt out fully. he was so big and so long, the feeling of him just halfway inside of you was enough to have you pulling against the ropes again. the way the rope was digging into your wrists was degrading but undeniably hot. it was like a silent reminder of how little control you actually had over this whole situation.

"s-so full!" you squeaked, but he kept pushing himself into your tight, warm hole.

"s'okay, you can take it. and if you can't, i'll make you take it." he groaned, finally bottoming out in you.

you were stuffed to the brim with his cock and slowly, he started to thrust his length in and out of you. desperately, you let out a feverish moan. your breaths were short but heavy, and you were a fucked out, cockdrunk mess for him as he picked up his pace.

"you're so fucking tight, my god," he moaned, "i should've fucked you sooner."

"make me cum," you plead desperately, "f-fuck, yes, feels so good, jonathan!"

"yeah? you wanna cum?" he cooed as he continued to fuck your sopping pussy, "you wanna cum on this cock?"

"fuck, yes." you pleaded.

his cock was pressed snugly up against your cervix, so deep that you could feel him in your stomach. he continued to stretch your little hole out, ruthlessly pounding his thick cock into you more and more as you started to see stars. your walls started to flutter around him, letting him know that you were close without having to say a word.

"close already, darling?" he asked, "are you gonna cum for me again, hm?"

"y-yes!" you moaned, "ohmygod- i'm gonna-"

your words started to melt together at one point as you got lost in the pleasure of your high. soon enough, your soaking cunt was tightening up around his fat cock, and a clear liquid poured out from you.

of course — you were so turned on by the way he was screwing you that you'd squirted all over his bedsheets.

"oh, darling," he moaned, "that was so fucking sexy, jesus."

"j-jonathan, baby," you begged, "i-i can't-"

"you can, i promise," he groaned, "i'm close."

"p-please." you started to beg incoherently, the overstimulation making your head spin as your cunt fluttered around his cock again.

he continued to ram your tight pussy until his thrusts started to become sloppier and sloppier, and you could tell that he was close to the edge.

"cum i-inside," you begged him, "i need to be filled, fuck-"

"okay, okay," he panted as his he gave you a few more deep, harsh thrusts, 'm'gonna fill you up, darling."

you nodded, your head spinning as he finally came inside with a low groan, painting your walls white as he stuffed you with his warm seed. he stilled, staying inside of your warm hole for just a little longer to ensure you got every last bit of his cum, before pulling out his semi-hard cock.

he bit his lip as he watched his cum drip out of you (the sight of him biting his lip almost made you cum again), and he reached over to untie your wrists as you slumped down against the pillows. he laughed softly, pulling you into him as you instinctively cuddled into his arms.

he pulled the cat ear headband off your head, which you forgot you still had on, and tossed them to the side.

"i guess i'm going to have a hard time getting rid of you, huh? stalker." he joked, sighing as he took in all the details of your pretty face.

"you won't be able to get rid of me," you say softly, "i'm obsessed with you."

"good, i don't want you around anyone but me." he says, playing with your hair gently.

"i know," you giggle, "but stupid love potion was useless. i should've known you were already in love with me."

the both of you laughed softly, snuggled up in his bed as he told you all about what he did on the side for work — and all about his plans to fear gas gotham city.

jonathan trusted you with this because he knew there wasn't a line in existence that you wouldn't cross for him.

@ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a @xanaxiii

@seaamonster @nocturnest @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones @oceanstem

@futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt @ll4n4

@ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @aprilsfrog05 @wiseyouthinfluencer

@minedofmoria @strangeobsessed

[atyourmerci]

Ethical dilemma

Therapist!ellie (read part 2 here)

CW: smut, MDNI, dom!ellie, bratsub!reader, sexual tension is fuckin palpable, blindfold, hypnosis, walked through orgasm, talks of masturbation, mutual pining but there’s laws oh no!, no y/n, no pdor

A/N: I fear this is so self-indulgent I will not be elaborating

X

“Highly unethical,” the auburn haired woman gives a small laugh, standing from her seat to walk you out as she always did. You’d asked about the details of the girl you see in her waiting room after you every Thursday. Dr. Williams was not privy to your sexual endeavors that came from her own hands…well her office for this manner.

She was a good therapist, best you’d ever had truly. Sure she understood all the lesbian lingo, formalities and functions that didn’t need to be gaysplaned to an unfortunate witness. But it felt as if she truly understood you, had a true knack to play out your actions before you ever thought of them. It was her job to fix your fuckups, not predict them.

She felt it, when you changed. How much thicker the air got, how she could slice it with her knife. The way your body expanded in her chair shifted, opening your chest for sight. Your gaze started to only focus on her, directed, pointed even, letting your lips open. When you started drawling out moments of your sexual endeavors down to every touch, how you tried to read her as she read you. You tried to make her crack, see any sense of appeal, to which she responded akin to a brick fucking wall.

Hell she knew your ‘new hookup’ was a sham, you were just dying to plead to her how unsatisfied ‘she’ left you. She knew the person you were, she knew you best after all, didn’t she now? You’d never stay, and she clocked it.

But she played your game, nodding along, letting you babble about all the times you had to finish yourself off afterwards.

She’d let herself have that, the pleasure of thought, the images of your panting breath, dry fingers, and cracked lips. In another life she’d agree to help you out, fix your ache. But Ellie was an ethical woman, level-headed, and morally sound, this was not her circus to corral.

She’d just remind you to focus on yourself, in whatever form that came.

‘Tell me to fuck myself’ you’d pray in your mind, begging for a mere innuendo from her, anything to use for later. You wished she’d talk you through it, and she would, in another life.

The entire time you’re rambling on she’d think of the ways she would walk you through it, praising you for how good you were doing, how beautiful you looked messy and broken down just for her. But a respected woman has limitations, rules, structures built exiling that from her will, “is there a reason you keep going back to her? Even though you don’t feel satisfied?”

“I need it,” you remark frankly, desire white hot that ate away at your skin like a bad infection.

“You need sex?” Ellie questions, her eyes forming into a squint as her head cocks. She cant seem to write this down, engulfed by your blatant admission.

“Don’t we all doctor…don’t you?” came out utterly direct, shifting your weight to your forearms that now rested on your thighs that allowed your blouse to reveal the peaks of your breasts. Maybe you were trying to intimidate her, and maybe it worked.

“This isn’t about me,” she said, but not what she thought, and you clocked it. The way her teeth drew in her bottom lip, the furrow of her brows, busying her gaze down to her blank paper. Never mustering up a reason to record your sessions, what was she to say? Lines blurring to an extent that shouldn’t allow you to still be here.

“But isn’t it?” you dart back, a grin easing up your lips, equally as maniacal as it was sensual. A pleading request for her to sink her teeth into, to rip the flesh from bone.

She should have asked you to never return, refer you to another doctor. Suddenly so aware of her surroundings, breaking herself from your delusions, “thats time, I’ll walk you out,” but she couldn’t, giving you a pitied smile, standing from her chair.

-

“Id like to try something new today,” Ellie says, an air of hesitancy rings through your ears.

“You going to reveal the skeletons in your closet Doctor?” You say in a teasing manner, crossing your legs in your usual spot, but Ellie remained standing.

A glimmer of a smirk forming on her lips, “have you heard of hypnotherapy?”

“First a doctor, now a magician what a pay drop,” you snide.

“Do you trust me?”

She had you lie on her couch, uncharted territory, too spacious for comfort, for rules and barriers, “now close your eyes for me,” Ellie remarks, seated on top of the coffee table, inches from the couch.

“what if I cant keep them closed, will I fuck up the juju?” you say peeping at her with one eye.

“I have a bandana-“ knowing you’ll cut in with your sexual advances she cuts off your process, “-for hypnosis, would you like that?”

You tie the black cloth around your eyes, cutting off the essential sense, suddenly so aware of your body. Feeling the tips of your fingers, the race of your heart, beating the blood to your veins.

“Tell me what you see,” the doctor pries, watching your open mouth, the way it releases at her words. The steady rise and fall of your chest, the control she had over your undirected weight.

“its just me.”

“Where are you?”

“I- I don’t know, it’s white everywhere,” Your senses so heightened, feeling the breath as it escapes your throat.

“What are you feeling,” Ellie says palming her hands, eager to break you down. The desire the scale the walls of your mind.

“Frustrated,” your breath beginning to shorten, that eery feeling creeping back into your bones.

“what else?”

“it hurts- hurts so bad” the burning to be satiated, body still yet so charged.

“Whats making it hurt?” Ellie could help, ease your killing wounds. Would she, or would she watch as you wilt like a flower in the beating sun?

“I cant fix it, it wont stop,” you pant out, sweat dripping down the valley of your chest.

“Are you touching yourself?” she leaps, walking the tight rope as a foot slips.

“yes-yes,” your mouth agape, fists balling into a white grip at your sides.

“You need to finish, don’t you?” she revels in your pain, the unstilted need.

“I need you,” you corrupt, breaking the thin layer of morals that stood between you and your desires.

“Im there with you, aren’t I always?” she taunts, voiding herself of her principles. Allowing herself to play into her horrors, you were merely a symbol of prey.

“Please-“ you breathe out, on the cusp of release at the expense of her mercy. Blood running hot as your cunt pulses untouched.

Bringing her mouth to the edge of your face, you feel her breathe through your body, breaking through your flesh.

Ever so softly, “let me satisfy you.”

[certaimromance]

𝜗𝜚 A Heart Matter.

Spencer Reid x Prentiss!reader

Series masterlist | ONE | TWO | THREE |

Summary: A few months after you left, Spencer thinks he sees you walking down the street, and his whole world is turned upside down.

Words: 3,2k.

TW: mentions of crime, trauma, death, pain and violence (normal warnings in the series). so much spoilers for s6 and s7. the events narrated occur after emily's "death". so much angst. read the dates carefully, especially the years, because there are some backward time frames that can confuse you if you don't pay attention!. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I'm so sorry, that's all I can say now.

Also, I thought about making this a series, but I'm not sure because I've never done one before and I've really only been writing here for about a month??? I'm trying hard.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

July 18th, 2011

The steady ticking of the wall clock echoed in Spencer's head as a reminder that his time in the session was ticking away, robbing him of the chance to express himself without sounding like a complete lunatic.

“I saw her.” He had to repeat it aloud after receiving a puzzled look from his therapist.

The woman pursed her lips. “In a dream? Are you having nightmares again?”

The lump in the agent's throat felt tighter and more suffocating, causing him to shift in his seat to hide it. He wanted to appear sane and focused, however much his next words were anything but.

“No.”

The therapist's intrigued look and the fact that she stopped writing in her notebook to give him her full attention made his hands tremble and his heart pound as he spoke again.

“I mean, I still have the same nightmares...but this, this is different.” Reid tried to explain hesitantly.

Since the day he found you lying in a pool of blood outside your sister's apartment, his mind had been tormented by the image and the guilt it caused him. The nightmares of seeing you again and losing you were a constant every night. Every time he managed to fall asleep, he woke up agitated, feeling again the emptiness of not having you by his side. And that was something his therapist knew better than anyone, because she forced him to write down every nightmare and tell her all of them.

Those bad dreams were supposed to be over, or so he had claimed for the past three weeks.

“How?”

“I wasn't asleep when I saw her.” Spencer finally blurted out in a slightly shaky voice. He had rehearsed the same conversation several times and always ended up feeling like a deranged man seeing ghosts. “I was on the street.”

That sentence instantly changed the tone of the conversation.

“It was after work, I went to buy some food because the case ended earlier than I thought. Her favorite Chinese restaurant is a few blocks from my apartment, we really liked to eat there...I bought some and when I came out, I saw her.” He paused for a minute, trying to mentally return to the moment that was relentlessly replaying in his mind. “She was across the street, buying flowers.”

He had to be quiet for a second, pausing to calm his own breathing. It was ridiculous, but the thought of you buying flowers again made him smile slightly.

You had always loved flowers and now he was supposed to bring them to your grave.

“I ran across the street as soon as I saw her, but I lost sight of her when a bus came across.” He said, struggling to finish his story.

“Spencer, listen to me.” The woman's tone alone let him know that she didn't agree with him at all. “It's normal to think we see someone we lost, it happens to several people. Maybe it was just someone who looked like her, and being near a place the two of you frequented contributed to the confusion.”

That was impossible because he would recognize you anywhere and there was no one else like you.

“You know the truth.”

Of course he knew.

He had been trying to live for six months knowing that you were already dead.

Six months of him trying to deal with your ghost. Six months of him on his knees begging for this to be just another nightmare. Six months of reliving the last time he held you in his arms. Six months of being dead in life.

“Yes, but she looked different.” He explained, receiving a puzzled look that prompted him to provide further clarification. “Her hair was shorter, much shorter. And if I were hallucinating her ghost, I'd see her the same way I saw her the last time, or maybe the time before that. It wouldn't be so different from the way I remember her.”

“You lost two important people on the same day, it's not about logic.”

From her reaction when he concluded his session, it was evident that she considered his perspective to be irrational and clouded by the effects of grief.

And maybe it was.

July 30th, 2011

A few days of missing therapies and locking himself up at work already had consequences.

It was the second time a case had ended earlier than expected and Spencer had to go back to his lonely apartment and find excuses to leave without feeling sorry for himself. It was hard for him to be in his own home without you, surrounded by the photos you always insisted on taking and framing to preserve moments that were now torture. So the best solution was to make unnecessary purchases or lock himself in the nearest library.

Anything was better than being locked in a room with himself, so he decided to read in a room full of strangers who provided the company he so desperately needed.

The bad news was that the library's closing time had come earlier than expected for unknown reasons, and life seemed to force him to face his reality on the busy streets of Virginia, taking every possible alternate route to delay his arrival home. He didn't want to have to open the door knowing that no one would be waiting for him, that you wouldn't be there asleep on the couch after watching a marathon of your favorite movies, or just trying to read one of his books so you could discuss it with him.

His mind was still hazy and his eyes were wandering through the shops of the city when a familiar and unmistakable figure appeared before his eyes, just a few meters away, coming out of one of the shops on the next street.

It was you again. Unmistakably you.

He started running without a second thought, but the streets were so crowded that it was hard for him to move through the mass of people. His heartbeat was out of control and probably everyone could hear him, but he didn't care about looking crazy, he just needed to get a little closer to talk and make sure it was you.

The city's public transportation seemed to be against him, because just as he was about to cross the street, not caring that the light was red, another bus crossed the street and almost ran him over. Just a few inches and the story would have been very different for him. Everyone on the street was whispering, car horns were honking and every now and then someone would ask him if he was okay or look at him like he was a psychiatric patient. But nothing mattered to him, there was only your image in his mind and the possibility of finding out if he was really going crazy or if your ghost was haunting him.

When he managed to cross the street, there was no sign of you, and his therapist's words echoed in his mind as a symbol of temporary insanity brought on by pain. Try as he might to ignore his conscience, there was no way to find you in the sea of people, and he had no choice but to enter the store where he thought he saw you coming out.

“A woman bought something here a few minutes ago, she had a bag slung over her shoulder.” Spencer spoke quickly as soon as he walked in and approached the local salesman. He paused only when the man nodded in confusion at his attitude. “Do you know her name? Where she's from? Does she come here often?”

The man's lips were sealed, he just waved his hand to let him know he would only talk for money. He didn't even flinch when Reid pulled out his badge and repeated that he was FBI. Anyway, the thirty dollars was the master key to get the information and the security camera footage, which was barely visible because of the poor quality.

“I don't know who she is, it's the first time I've seen her. There aren't many customers on my shift, and not everyone buys that many books.” He began to speak under Spencer's curious gaze. “She paid cash and bought a bunch of classics. And she had a limp.”

“Are you sure? Which leg was it?”

There was a short silence, which the salesman used to remind himself, and Spencer's nerves got even more out of control.

“I don't remember which leg it was but I was definitely limping. I noticed that when she climbed the ladder, I had to help her.”

January 11th, 2010

“Can we eat here?” You asked after reading the sign that said the restaurant's elevator was under repair. “There are a few tables.”

Spencer couldn't help but frown and let go of your hand to stand in front of you. His eyes searched for yours. “I thought you wanted to come up, the view is your favorite thing here.”

You two were at your favorite restaurant, a Chinese food paradise with the best view in city, according to your expert opinion. It wasn't the first time the two of you had been there, so you had already more than booked a table, and this one was on the third floor. Your favorite part of going there was seeing the moon.

And of course, Dr. Reid was the kind of guy who always paid attention to the little details. He remembered everything, and could probably tell what you were thinking just by looking into your eyes for a few seconds.

“Let me take you upstairs, please.”

His puppy-dog eyes and a single phrase were enough to get you to let him take you by the arm and lead you up the stairs at a slow pace. By the time you got to the second floor, he offered to carry you like a princess. You had no choice but to accept, especially since it had already taken you more than ten minutes to climb a single floor. The pitying looks from the other diners were starting to make you uncomfortable.

“Thank you, Spencer.” You mumbled as you reached the table and he pulled up a chair for you.

He smiled. He loved how you said his name and wanted to hear it for hours.

After you both sat down and made your requests, you spoke again. “Aren't you going to ask why I can't climb a ladder?”

“I won't ask you anything you don't want to answer.” He said simply.

You felt like you could tell him anything, even your darkest thoughts. Your sister had already talked about it. Either it was the Reid effect, or you were just madly in love with him. Both were quite similar in your view.

“I hurt myself while I was practicing ballet. I made a really bad move.” You spoke up after a few minutes of silence. He frowned when he heard you. He had no idea you played the sport. “I was supposed to have quit, so I didn't tell anyone. Only Emily knew. I didn't treat it until the injury got worse when I went out in the field on a case. That's how I retired from the FBI. My mom freaked out, and my left ankle was screwed up for my whole life.”

Before you turned your attention back to Spencer, you prepared yourself mentally for the sympathy he would undoubtedly show. The curious thing was that in his eyes, there was nothing but interest and gratitude for having allowed him to know more about you. That was what kept you talking.

“There's an operation to try to fix it, but recovery takes quite some time. I'd rather always take the elevator and avoid the stairs as much as possible than have to rely on Emily to take care of me for three whole months. She has work to do and would go crazy having to be my maid.”

“I would.” He said without hesitation. When you looked curious, he elaborated. “I'd take care of you.”

“For three whole months?” You asked, sounding rather incredulous and as if you thought maybe he was just being extra nice.

“For the rest of my life, if you let me.”

September 5th, 2011

“There's no way you could have seen her, Spence.”

JJ's eyes fell on his friend's not-so-shaky ones, and a part of her churned inside, not knowing what else to say to him. It was eleven o'clock at night, the first time in several days that Spencer had shown up at her house to try to find comfort and perhaps understanding.

“I know, I know it shouldn't be possible.” He replied and went back to pacing the room, trying not to make a sound. The last thing he wanted was to wake up his godson or his friend's husband. “But it was so real...maybe I'm crazy.”

“You're not.” She said firmly, getting up from her seat to give him a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

At the time, even he didn't know for sure, and that made him fear that he had lost his mind. He was hungry for a love that he would never have again.

“You just miss her.”

No, missing was nothing compared to his feelings.

“It's more than that, much more. I haven't been able to catch my breath since she left.” He admitted, running his hands through his hair as tears formed. “I miss Emily, too, and I don't see her walking down the street.”

Silence fell over the room because no one had anything to say. There weren't enough words to describe the situation. The only sound that could be heard was the man's sobbing on Jennifer's shoulder, trying to be encouraged with words.

“It's going to be all right, Spence.”

He didn't say it out loud, but he thought he'd never get anything right in his life if all he wanted was you.

March 14th, 2010

The coffee he was carrying kept him warm as he made his way through the chilly FBI offices. Spencer wondered if the air conditioning had broken down when he reached the technical analyst's office and a conversation stopped him in his tracks.

“My take? She looks like she'll be Mrs. Reid one day.” Penelope's voice was heard after several loose sentences that the boy couldn't understand from the other side of the door. He figured they were talking about him and his relationship with you.

“I hadn't thought about Reid being legally part of my family until now.” Emily spoke next, letting out a few chuckles. “I'm going to have mini geniuses for nephews.”

“Stop it, we're just dating.” You spoke with some nervousness, still reeling from the implications. “It's not like we're getting married tomorrow.”

As he leaned against the wall by the door to hear better, Spencer couldn't help but feel a bit guilty about what he was doing. He knew it wasn't right to overhear other people's conversations, especially if they were about him. But he had a feeling he needed to know what you were saying about him when he wasn't around. It wouldn't hurt to just hear a little bit.

“Don't pretend you don't talk about future names for your babies, I heard you two.” Garcia spoke again.

“It was a random conversation.”

“About baby names?” She gave a little smile and raised an eyebrow.

“What I mean is that bringing things forward is not good.” You began to speak, completely ignoring the previous point. You were trying to be the voice of reason in the midst of their ridicule. “But I'd like him to be the one.”

“I think I'll shed a tear or two because you've grown up so fast.” Your sister commented in a teasing tone that hid quite a bit of truth. She gave your hand a quick squeeze and looked at you for a few seconds before speaking again. “What's up with that look on your face?”

You frowned. Spencer's heart seemed to stop beating for a moment. “What look?”

“You know which one I mean—the one you put on when the coffee runs out.”

Reid's hands began to sweat. He felt like a teenager trying to figure out what the girl he liked really thought of him. Did you ever have doubts about your relationship? Did you ever picture yourself with him in the future? Was he really the one for you?

“The scariest thing about love is getting hurt.” You said, trying to initiate the idea. Unfortunately, Penelope beat you to it and spoke up.

“I'm sure he wouldn't hurt you.”

“I know, I don't care about that.” You spoke up again after a few seconds, looking around the room as if lost in thought. “What if I do it? What if I break his heart?”

Oh, that was certainly not something Spencer was expecting to hear.

“How would you break his heart? Not answering his calls for five minutes and seven seconds?” Interjected Emily with a teasing tone to try to lighten the mood and get a smile out of you. “I don't think either of you would consciously hurt the other.”

And right after that, the protagonist of the discussion entered the room, causing the three of you to remain silent and pretend that nothing was going on. You could only smile when your boyfriend came in with a hot coffee for you and you saw the tender looks the two women gave you.

“Thank you.” You said.

“It's nothing.” He replied, pulling you close to surprise you with a hug that brought him close enough to your ear to whisper. “You could never break my heart.”

September 21st, 2011

Ian Doyle was only a couple of meters away.

Spencer's fist throbbed and burned, still stained with the blood of the man who had taken everything from him seven months ago. He knew he had done wrong, that he had promised everyone that he would only talk to the terrorist, and that he had done much more than that. The team had barely been able to get him out of the interrogation room because he was out of control with rage.

He wanted to make him feel a lot of pain and a minimum of what you and Emily probably felt that night.

“You need to calm down.” JJ came out of the meeting room to stop him before he could go in.

“I'm calm.” He replied, still trying to regulate his breathing. He could see his friend raise an eyebrow, and he decided to speak up again to avoid upsetting her. “This is about as calm as I can get right now.”

As soon as he was done speaking, Reid tried to keep going to the room, but the woman was in his way again and stopped him from opening the door.

“You have to be calm for what Hotch has to tell you. I mean it.” Jennifer said, after receiving a confused look. “What you're going to see now...”

“I'll be fine.”

Without giving her a chance to say anything else, he opened the door to the room. Spencer thought he'd find photos of the crime scene that ruined his life, maybe some testimony he didn't know about, or even the killer there. But none of that was true, and it made his heart stop.

“Hi.”

You certainly broke his heart this time.

[sourpeachsayshi]

Praise kink with Nanami, please😭

·˚ ༘₊· ͟͟͞͞꒰➳ minors / ageless blogs / blank blogs - do not interact.

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ tags: therapist!nanami; client!reader; guided; forbidden; doctor-patient relationship; size kink(?)

ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ notes: I went overboard with this one.

nanami's eyes darken, his glasses resting just below the bridge of his nose, irises blurring like the haze between night and day. he uncrosses then crosses his legs, desperately trying to adjust the bulge in his pants. his notebook is still resting comfortably on his lap, one of his hands fidgeting with the pen that he lightly taps against the paper, while the other traces the outline of his lip.

your legs are spread apart, your skirt flipped up, underwear pulled to the side. your shirt unbuttoned, exposing the lace fabric of your pretty, pretty bra. the sight of your cunt forms a knot in his throat, which he swallows while trying to forget the many nights he's jacked off picturing himself fucking you.

the one who came to him after leaving her horrible husband. who has struggled to find any sexual pleasure ever since, and who timidly admitted that she finds her underwear soaked after every session with dr. kento.

"I don't think," you sigh, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. "I don't think this will work..."

"but you look good," he reassures, noticing your lashes flutter at his words. "Wet. I can see it from here..."

your face burns with embarrassment, and you part your lips to say something though no words come out.

"just keep listening, okay? you're doing really well for me, I promise this will help," he lies through his teeth, his cheeks tinting a shade of crimson of him abusing his role. "your middle and index finger, use it to rub your clit, not too fast...nice and easy..."

you oblige, and that doesn't take him by surprise. you listen to his guidance, start massaging the nub of your clit gently. a few minutes pass, but he's busy paying attention to your reactions. the way your breath hitches and your chest hiccupping as you try to stifle a moan.

"don't hold it in," he coos, "give in to your natural reactions. it's okay, I'm right here. I'm watching you, helping you. you trust me, right?"

"yes, doctor," you whimper and he hums in response.

"feels good?"

"uh-huh"

"you sound lovely, like you're enjoying it..."

"mmph~"

"faster. add a little more pressure, that's right..." he continues, "how do you feel?"

"warm-" you add, breathless and needy which only fuels his desire. "I l-like it, I like how it feels..."

"This is excellent progress, I'm proud of you," he praises, a hint of a devious smile ticking the corner of his lip. "try putting a finger in, there you go..."

his eyes narrow as you sink your middle finger into your hole. you gasp in slight shock, taken aback that you actually enjoyed the tiny stretch. nanami nearly snaps the pen his half. knowing full well that the length and thickness of his fingers would do far, far better.

you pump in and out, so slowly like you're trying to figure out what pacing you prefer. "doctor kento," you moan, though you are not addressing him with anything specific except to simply call out his name.

his cock twitches.

he takes his glasses off, and folds it neatly between his pressed shirt. he closes his notebook, the page filled with mindless scribbles that he put together to distract himself from being aroused by you.

"when we discussed your sex life prior to your marriage, you mentioned you enjoyed receiving oral," he states.

you gaze up at him with doe eyes from underneath your lashes, finger fucking yourself tenderly as you shake your head in confirmation.

he gets up from his seat, takes a few steps closer as he carefully rolls up his sleeve. he kneels before you, the afternoon light sparkling against his golden hair. his face far too close to your cunt.

"a more manual approach might do you some good," he mumbles, his large palms reaching for your plush thighs.

the heat burns behind your ears and down your neck, your muscles in your lower belly start quivering with delight and anticipation.

"you're gorgeous, by the way," he admits, dropping his professional mask and allowing his inner thoughts to speak on his behalf. "it's a shame your ex couldn't appreciate that..."

he moves on hand to circle around your wrist and draws it away from your soaking cunt. he brings your shaking fingers to his lips to taste your essence before releasing you with a pop.

"so sweet," he purrs. he drops your wrist, his hands smoothing over your inner thigh and over the curve of your pelvis. when he looks up at you, you almost don't recognize the devilish expression on the face of such a gentleman. "you deserve to feel this good. may I?"

you melt into the pillow behind you, your heart pounding so hard against your chest it makes the room around you spin.

"we'll go for as long as you can handle. alright, sweetheart?"

"yes, doctor kento"

"good girl," he murmurs, the depth of his voice making you tremble in your seat. "such a good girl..."

your eyes roll to the back of your head, a cry leaving your lips that sounds like an ache when he brings his tongue to your sex and drags upward along the glittering slit.

no more secrets x

[daydreamerwoah]

Love Through It All Pt. 3

tw: mentions of cheating, mentions of divorce, hurt, angst, anger, crying, sadness, therapy/counseling

I don't condone cheating at all. But I know every marriage and even relationship is different. What one person might do in a situation, another might not do it..... Every time I write something, I'm always writing with the thought of the main goal being OC or in this case 'Y/N' ending up with the man I'm writing about (in this case it's Ghost). So this is going to be angst... but Y/n & Ghost are going to stay together at the end of this little story....

If this upsets you, pisses you off, or you hate it... I'm sorry :( Sort of my first time writing angst like this, so send me the feedback plsssss.

ALSO - I'm not a counselor or therapist, so please note the "session(s)" that Y/n and Ghost attend may not be how therapy actually is supposed to go, but for the sake of the story let's pretend it does.

It was weird. Strange. Confusing.

A few days had passed since you agreed to go to counseling with Simon. You tried not to, but the ghost of a smile that formed on his lips when you said you would go had you feeling so many emotions. You hated yourself for it. You also hated yourself for how you loved that Simon wanted to work on your marriage and himself.

He came home early every day in those past days, even if you two didn't have dinner together. Even if you two hardly talked to each other, he was at home. It was odd. Walking around in your own home trying to ignore him, and it was eating him alive.... and you too.

On more than one occasion, he would sit out on the patio with you, even if you didn't say anything to him. You honestly wanted to talk to him, but that felt too foreign; too prohibited. Couples that were going through divorces couldn't be so domestic, could they?

It wasn't until the night before you went to counseling that your coworker, Ava, begged you to go have a drink after work that you found out if other couples had gone through something similar. You tried your best to avoid her questions, but she read you like an open book, asking what was going on. When you finally broke down in tears and told her everything, she hugged you tightly as any good friend would do. She even told you what she had gone through, and you were shocked to learn about her and her husband's almost divorce story.

Like Simon, he had cheated and it tore Ava apart. While it wasn't the exact same situation, the pain was still the same. But she encouraged you to do what you wanted to do, and that was the difficult part.

"You want to stay wit him don't you?" she asked with a sad smile.

You nodded, "I love him so much. And I know it's so stupid. I'm an idiot. But I don't know if I can... it hurts so much."

She hushed you before more tears fell, "Y/n.... I know it's hard. And I know that other people might say you're crazy if you stay with him... but they're not you. They're not married to Simon. You have to do what you think it's right for your heart........ and if it turns out differently, then it's your life. Not his. Not mine. Not anybody else."

She spoke with so much conviction, you sort of felt happy for a split second. It was what she was told when she was going through those same feelings.

"I just wish he would have told me." You sniffled, looking down at the empty glass on the table in front of you.

She hummed in thought for a moment, "You know what I think you should do?" she asked, making you look up at her again, "Make him realize what he was missing while he was too busy with her."

"Huh?"

She nodded, "Yep. If he couldn't see that you are the only woman he needed, then show him."

Your eyebrows drew together, "How?"

A devilish smirk formed on her lips.

When you arrived on base the next day, you were beyond nervous. The Military Police at the front gate looked at you in confusion when you showed him your ID, but you were too busy trying not to vomit on your clothes. The clothes that you finally decided to put on after debating for over an hour over putting them on or not. Ava's idea of making Simon realize how much you were the only woman he needed was to start showing him how much any other man could and would try to take you from him.

"Your clothes," she told you. "And.... the way you act. It's time to bring out your dark feminine side."

Your what? You hadn't even heard of that before.

It was a stupid idea, but one that would work because while you normally got dressed in your usual casual work attire at first, Ava called you that morning and made sure you wore that outfit she made you buy last night before going home. It was a hassle to hide it from Simon, who was sitting on the couch when you arrived, but you somehow did.

The light and flowy clothes you always wore were switched to a more tight-fitting and sexy outfit while still keeping it chic and appropriate because you still had to go to work afterward. The icing on the cake was when she told you to wear heels; sexy heels. You even wore makeup - mostly to hide the dark circles under your eyes - as you didn't wear it often. And god did it work....

When you got out of your car and walked the short distance to the front doors of the building, several soldiers passed you, not even trying to hide the fact they were staring. Even a soldier who held the door open for you to walk into the building stared, trying to hide his gaze by offering if you needed help finding something or someone.

Simon was sitting, waiting in the lobby - like he texted you a few minutes ago - so you declined the random guy's offer as you looked around for your husband. He stood up before making his way to you when he heard your voice, but he found his feet walking slightly quicker when he saw a man standing in front of you, glancing up and down your figure. When your eyes met his, the corners of your lips turned up slightly, partly because you were nervous, the other part because you had never seen him at work before.

But Simon's eyes cut away and landed immediately on the soldier next to you, and when the guy looked at who he knew as Ghost, he gulped. "Need something, Sergeant?" Simon asked, his voice short and blunt and a tad bit irritated.

The Sergeant shook his quickly, "No sir." He glanced at you then back to lieutenant, "Have a good day.... sir," he quickly said before scurrying down the hallway.

It was funny. Simon used to tell you that he intimidated people, and while you sometimes saw it when you were out in public, you never saw him do it at work. Watching that soldier leave hastily drew a small giggle from your throat before your eyes met your husband's brown orbs once more.

Simon was thankful that when he worked, he wore his hard shell skull-printed mask. It maintained his anonymity both on missions and on base. But in that moment he was even more thankful because it hid his facial expressions as he looked over you, taking in your outfit. Something definitely changed in what you had on. You had never wore work clothes that seemed... sexy and slightly revealing.

"You look beautiful," he sincerely said before he could even process his thoughts. You were going to work... like that?

Your breath caught in your throat as you looked back at him. You heard the way he said it. Like he was trying to figure out how to take in what you had on. "Thank you," you whispered. You glanced down at your wrist to look at your watch, "We should head in."

He gave you a nod, before guiding you down the hallway to the chaplain's office. You tried to ignore the burning feeling in your chest as his hand rested on your back while he walked slightly behind you. Like he was keeping you in his view, but letting you know he was right there with you. He did that all the time so what was so different about it now?

Steading your breathing, Simon came to a stop and informed it was the chaplain's office. You nodded, nervously licking your lips before he turned the handle and allowed you to go in first.

With brief introductions out of the way, you, Simon, and the chaplain - Lt. Jones - sat in his office. You and Simon were on the couch, while he sat in the chair across from you two. It was awkward, and you felt your heart beat rapidly in your chest while Lt. Jones opened his notebook and took out a pen to write.

"Now I know this can't be easy for both of you... but I'd like to start off by telling me how you came to the decision to seek counseling yeah?" He began.

You fidgeted in your seat, briefly glancing at Simon before back at the chaplain, while your husband swallowed the huge lump that formed in his throat. A beat went by, and you almost thought you'd faint from how anxious you were, but Simon spoke up.

"I.... cheated on my wife." He breathed out, and it hurt when you heard the pain in his voice.

Fuck. You weren't even five minutes into the session and your eyes were already tearing up. It hurt more than you wanted it to hear him say it out loud; that he cheated on you. For the past few days, you had been ignoring him because you weren't ready to hear those words from his mouth. But now you had to. You had to if you wanted to get past this.

Lt. Jones wrote something in his notebook, and you and Simon both glanced at his pen moving across the page, "And you two want to work through this yeah?"

You opened your mouth to speak, but Simon spoke before you, "Yes."

However, the chaplain noticed the way you fidgeted once more on the couch and closed your eyes. He glanced at Simon then back to you, "Mrs. Riley?" He asked. The name; your name. Hearing that alone made a tear trickle down your cheek. Simon glanced at you and god did he want to reach out and touch you, but he was afraid you'd yank away from him.

"I-I want to-" Simon couldn't help the tiny smile that began to form on his face, but it dropped when you continued, "-but.... I don't think I can."

"Why is that?" the chaplain asked.

You glanced at Simon, seeing his eyes already locked on you. Even with his mask on you could see the sad expression in his eyes, "Because... I know how this ends."

Both Lt. Jones and Simon looked at you in confusion, Simon more so than the other man.

"What do you mean ma'am?" Jones asked.

You tried to keep the tears in, but talking about your past was never easy to do. You had only briefly talked about it to Simon before and it was very much just saying that your last relationship didn't work out but you never said why. But now..... you didn't want to lie to a chaplain; a priest. So you continued. . .

"I always get hurt. Always-" you glanced down at the floor in thought, "-my last relationship... I was cheated on. The one before that I was cheated on. It doesn't matter." You sniffed, making the chaplain hand you a tissue which you kindly took, "At some point I just have to accept that I don't belong in a relationship, let alone a marriage."

"Y'never told me that," Simon interrupted, his voice soft.

You shrugged, "It doesn't matter... you still would have cheated Simon," he visibly swallowed the lump in his throat, "I get it... I'm not enough. I've never been enough. Not for you. Not for-"

"That's not true." He cut you off. You could hear the frustration in his tone.

The chaplain also heard it and decided it was good to step in, "Lieutenant.. please let her finish. It's good to get feelings out when you want to work through things. Especially something like this."

He sighed, nodding as he glanced back at you. You hadn't even looked up from the spot on the floor before Jones told you to continue. But you knew Simon would interrupt you once more at what you were going to say next. And that made you cry more.

"The only difference between now and the past is that I'm not getting my ass beat," a sour chuckle left your throat.

"What?" Simon asked as his body tensed greatly.

The chaplain even looked at you in a way that was...guarded?

"Mrs. Riley, what do you mean by that?"

You looked up at him, "My last relationship.... when I found out he was cheating, I confronted him about it. And it just resulted in me in the hospital."

Silence.

Nothing was heard as the two men looked at you, eyes wide, even if Lt. Jones tried his best to remain expressionless. Simon, on the other hand, was fuming in his head. Some dick at the audacity to put his hands on you because he got caught cheating? He wanted to find the douchebag and kill him... but you never talked about your ex; never said he hit you - his wife. He didn't care if that was before he met you, he was thinking of all the ways he could find the guy and kill him.

"Is that why you think you can't work past this with your husband now?" You nodded, and Simon couldn't help his words from slipping.

"Y/n I would never hit you-"

You finally looked back at him, "I know that. I know you won't. Still doesn't change the fact that you don't love me anymore."

"I do-"

"Stop it Simon," you pushed.

Thank god for Lt. Jones who was good at his job. He knew the conversation was going to turn into a back-and-forth bickering spree so he stopped you two before it got to that point.

"If you two want this to work through this-" he began, making you two look at him, "-I recommend that you both continuing counseling with me. Let's start off with twice a week yeah? One day will be an individual session, and the other will be together." Simon glanced at you before nodding his head in agreement. A deep frown formed on your face at the feeling that you wanted to continue this. You had to if Simon was going to give you the papers. But you also really wanted to work on your marriage. You sighed before nodding your head, making the chaplain give you both a soft grin. "I know it's not easy. Marriage. But just knowing that you even came in here today, shows me that deep down you want to get past this together."

Lt. Jones eventually dismissed you both with a tiny bit of homework to do before your next session the following week. Emotions were all over the place for you and Simon. While you were busy worrying about the battle between wanting to stay with your husband or leaving, Simon was beating himself up. He had done the one thing that he honestly never thought he would have. He was just like his father, and that thought alone made him want to vomit.

You were almost to the front doors of the building when Simon's gloved hand gently grabbed your wrist, turning you back to look at him. His eyes were on the brink of tearing up, but you knew he wouldn't cry... not at work. He didn't say anything for a moment while he looked at your face, eyes flickering to the quivering of your lip and your redness of your eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me?" was the first thing he said.

You almost rolled your eyes, but instead you focused on his boots, "Because it's not something I like to talk about. It was a long time ago, and I was stupid to stay with that bastard," you whispered, "But it doesn't matter what happened Simon. Would you have done anything differently if I told you?" Your eyes snapped back up to meet his as you pulled your wrist out of his grip.

He didn't respond. You couldn't see it, but his jaw tensed greatly under his mask. Would he have not cheated? You couldn't be sure... but you also couldn't think about it because a high-pitched voice interrupted your conversation as a woman strolled up next to your husband.

"Ghost..." she said as she looked at him, "I was looking for you earlier. They said you was busy."

Ghost. The way she said his name made your eyes snap towards her as she glanced at you. Simon didn't even acknowledge her for a second, eyes still on you, before he looked at her. His jaw was flexing under his mask so hard he thought he would break his teeth. And by the way her eyes widened at you before she awkwardly looked at your husband, you felt something stir in the pit of your stomach.

You tried to lie to yourself. You really did. But the jealousy swam through your body as you looked at her. It was her; the woman from the video. And by the look on Simon's face when he looked at her in disgust only confirmed it.

"Uh I'll just see you later alright?" she quiet said before quickly walking away down the hall.

The universe was truly against you wasn't it? Out of everything, you didn't expect to actually see the woman in person. The woman who - even in her uniform - was a beauty. You always admired the beauty of women, complimenting a woman when she looked nice or anything. But you hated the way she looked; hated the way the makeup looked on her.... because she was gorgeous. And because she was everything you weren't.

As she walked away, Simon didn't even turn his head to look back at her, his eyes trained on you. But you looked. You leaned your head to the side to watch as she glanced at the two of you before turning a corner down the hall, a slight frown on her face. The anger that bubbled in your chest had you turning on your feet and walking out of the building to your car, making Simon walk after you.

"Sweetheart," he tried calling out to you, but you picked up your pace, wishing the ground would swallow you whole. "Y/n..." he reached out to you again.

You spun on your heel so fast you thought it would break, "It's her, isn't it?" He didn't respond, "Her?!" you raised your voice a little, making him close the gap between you.

"Love please don't do this," he begged, keeping his voice down since you were standing outside.

"Do what?? What I should do and leave?" you felt like you were about to burst with anger.

He grabbed your arms, pulling you into him even further, "No. Please Y/n... Sweetheart, I swear I'm so sorry for hurting you. I wanna make this right."

"How Simon? How can you even make this right?" you choked on a sob that escaped your throat. "I can't do this right now. I need to go to work, Simon."

You pulled away from him, his hands longing for your touch as you walked to your car and got in. Before you pulled off, you hated that your eyes immediately found his and you wanted to punch the window so bad. Instead you steadied your breathing and drove off to work.

Simon watched as you left, fingers flexing as he fought the urge to punch anything that was in his sight. Pvt Williams had just returned from a mission with her unit, and he knew exactly where he was going next as his eyes darkened with intense anger.

Yep. This will officially be a short story I feel like. I have so many ideas running through my head. Working on part 4 currently.

[bbokicidal]

#5. The moment he knows he wants to marry you + Sungie?? Pretty please? 🥺🥺

Have you ever seen Brooklyn nine nine? There a scene in which Jake realizes he wants to marry Amy and it’s one of the cutest scene I’ve ever watched.

I haven't seen Brooklyn nine nine but I do not doubt you bc you've never lied to me b4. lol. This is going to be short - but hopefully I'll get the super sentimental point across:

Boyfriend Prompt #5 : The Moment He Knew He Wanted To Marry You - Han Jisung

Jisung knew he wanted to marry you the moment he expressed something about his anxiety to you.

He'd come to you - two years and three months into your relationship - after a therapy session he'd had earlier in the afternoon. Work wasn't something he'd worried about that day, taken care of the night before; So he'd slept in, gone to his appointment for two hours, and then come home to the smell of lunch being cooked by his truly.

Jisung was all smiles instantly. You turn to look at him, wearing a pink apron he'd gifted you the Christmas prior. "I'm assuming it was a good session?" You quip, giggling when he comes in closer to rest his hands on your hips. Plush lips press to your cheeks in silly little kisses, his smile undeniable.

"It was great. My therapist said she thinks I can come off of my anxiety medication soon if everything keeps going this well." He beams, "I've been feeling... really good, lately. Everything feels lighter. I'm not overthinking as much and I see the light in every day. I feel like myself again."

Surprised and excited by the wonderful news, your hands come up to cup your boyfriend's cheeks with care. "Oh, sweetheart - that's amazing. I'm so happy for you," Your thumbs brush over his cheeks, the soft skin dimpling under your fingertips. "And I'm so proud of you, too."

Jisung's smile falters just the slightest bit before it returns. "P-... Proud...?"

"Mm." You nod, looking up into his glossy eyes. "Very proud. You've worked so hard to better yourself and get to this point, Jisung, and you've done it all while keeping up with your career and never giving up on your friends or yourself. Though I knew that if anyone could do it in the world, it would be you."

Jisung's heart slammed in his chest, skipping a beat before catching up with itself as he peered into your eyes. He knew in that moment that he just had to be with you forever. You were too good to let go; You took care of him, encouraged him, brought him back to standing when all he wanted to do was curl up in bed and rot away for the rest of his days.

You meant the world to him - And maybe one day, sometime soon, Jisung will see how he is your universe as well.

[tothosewholisten]

Forever Healed | TUA insert

Chapter: 00

next chapter>>

Masterlist

…

On the 12th hour of the first day of October 1989. 43 women around the world gave birth. This was unusual in the fact that none of these women had been pregnant when the day first began.

Sir Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and adventurer, resolved to locate and adopt as many of the children as possible.

He got seven of them, yes seven.

..

MARCH 21, 2019

I have to be at least somewhat proud of myself for lasting this long. I thought as I sat on the bus, not everyday you are born with magical powers and are destined to save the world from evil. Yes, hearing myself think that sounds crazy. But that's normal in my life.

I had reached my stop after a half an hour of sitting with my earbuds in, listening to nothing at all. I just wanted to seem unapproachable on the sketchy city bus.

My destination was a terribly designed office building, the space was so crammed and ugly it made me want to turn right back around and get on that bus again. But I didn't because I was trying to convince myself that this would be good for me, but I didn't believe my words.

I was about to have a therapy session with some middle-aged white lady who has glasses and tell her all of my life issues, starting every week at 5pm..

It's not like I had anything else going on, I haven't had work for days now. So I thought I'd give it a shot.

The waiting process made me anxious as hell, I finally got the courage to walk up to the front desk and gave the man who sat there my name. And now I have to wait for this lady to get done with some other patient.

I sat on a chair and frowned, like she is really going to be focused on "my" problems and not the 30 other people she sees today.

I swear it was only a second into me zoning out when I heard my name yelled. "Y/n L/n? It's so nice to meet you!" A woman said, when i looked up at her i saw the exact lady i was describing earlier to the closest details.

I let her lead me to a smaller room that looked way better than the lobby. It had two chairs, a water machine, some fidget items and a large window view of the city. Gloria, I learn to be the name of my therapist, asks me to sit with her.

She clears her throat, "I know this is our first session so you may not be the most comfortable sharing details. But I'd like to know a little bit about you if you're okay sharing."

“Well, I’m 29 years old and a home care nurse.” I say slowly. Hearing the words leave my mouth I knew I haven’t amounted to a lot in my years.

"Oh wow, 29? I would've never guessed that Y/n, you don't look a day over 21" Gloria complimented me i give her a tiny smile in return.

I'm not sure why that is, I get that a lot in my working field. Older women saying that they wished they looked as young as me.

"That's a great start for today's session." She smiles, "A little bit me is, you know my name already but I'm 56 years old since Monday. I have 3 children and a cat named Mr. Furball."

I regret what i said earlier because I think I already like Gloria and not just because of Mr. Furball. But the fact that she has a calming sense about her. I find myself listening to what she's saying, and I rarely do that with people nowadays.

"But I would like to hear more about your upbringing, how’d you become the fine young lady you are today?" She says.

Oh, she wants to hear about my childhood. I mean I knew she would ask but so soon, I'm worried about saying anything. So I told her that.

"I'm worried about opening up to someone about my past cause well I've never done it before." I said.

She hands me a cup of water. "That's okay Y/n, we can take it at your pace."

“I grew up in a small house with my mom and dad until I was twelve. When I was scouted by Reginald Hargreeves because of my unique abilities. And I've been there ever since I was 18 when I moved out to live on my own.” I waited for the burst of confusion I was about to get from Gloria. Not everyday one of the Umbrella Academy walks into your office.

“Oh wow…” she says, eyes wide. “You're one of those superheroes? That’s amazing wow.” She nervously chuckles “I’m sorry I’m normally not this shocked about things, and I hear a lot on the daily.”

“It’s okay” I say, staring at my hands.

She clears her throat. “I'm sure being apart of the Umbrella Academy was big but could you tell me about your life before that?”

I closed my eyes for a couple of seconds, pictured my childhood in my brain and opened my mouth.

"Well, I'm sure to this day my father still thinks that my mother cheated on him, due to his "daughter's" virgin Mary-like creation since they were just newlyweds. He held it against my mother all of her life." I took a sip of water and continued.

"I'm not sure why he turned to alcohol. But that turned out as you could expect. He turned on everyone around him and acted like a beast. He regularly attacked my mom for anything she did wrong. But what made him more angry was that his freak of a daughter could heal her mother, after every beating."

"My mom told me before I left I had made her so much happier and in her words. She didn't even question these strange occurrences; she knew her baby was special." I smiled a bit.

I could tell that Gloria was painting a picture in her head of what I was describing too.

"And by the age of 8, I was standing up to my father, even if it didn't end so well. I'd get the beating instead but by the next day, my bloody body would be as good as new. On the surface at least, I had lots of internal issues from that time. But none of that stopped my father from trying to get equal with me.." I stopped talking after that.

My eyes could only focus on my right hand as it was picking at my left hand's skin. It was a habit I picked up as soon as I started to use my powers because I knew my skin would be right back to normal in the next few minutes.

"That's awful y/n I'm so sorry." She frowned. "Would you be okay with continuing?"

I blink up at her. “Yes, that would be okay,” I said. “Then there was this one day..”

..

17 YEARS AGO

“In five, four, three, two. This is Jim Hellerman, reporting live for channel 2 News outside of the Capital West Bank at Main and Sixth. A group of heavily armed men stormed the bank not three hours ago and took an unknown number of hostages.”

That was the big news update of September 2002, I remember. Well I don’t really have to think about it much because I was there with my mom at the bank. She planned on making some deposit when we were screamed at, not to leave by a man who had his gun pointed at us along with so many other civilians. He taped us up and told us to stand in a corner.

That was the first and only time I feared for my life. Police didn’t want them to start shooting, so they didn’t come into the building. Meaning that we were on our own and could die at anytime

One of the armed men walks into the scene unfolding. Sirens blaring, people getting shoved around and threats being made to the innocent.

“Now you’ve put me in a position where I gotta do something I don't want to do. Hmm?” He said talking to another person on his walkie talkie.

My mom brought me closer to her trying to use her body as a shield if things went south. And to us we thought they were about to be.

But strangely, a girl walked up to the man. She’d looked to be around my age in a school uniform and cartoon mask. Her loose curls bounced in the wind as she skipped up to him.

“Shit!” He screams putting his device down. Not noticing the girl until a few seconds after his outburst. “Hey, get back with the others.” He told her, trying to sound intimidating but she didn’t seem to fear him at all.

“I heard a rumor.” She spoke out.

He bent a little to reach her height and get in her face. “What? What did you say?”

She leaned in and cupped her hand to mimic whispering in his ear but loud enough for all of us to hear. “I heard a rumor that you shot your friend in the foot.”

Without any hesitation he did what she commanded and shot the nearest armed man who happened to be trying to rough up my mom. We screamed as he kept shooting.

“We just heard shots from inside the bank. It’s uncertain if any hostages have been harmed in that.”

“There’s some movement on the roof. Possibly law enforcement.”

A loud crash and a boy landed down from the roof. It was crazy he wasn’t harmed at all from that high distance. He was also wearing the same mask and uniform as the girl but he had blond hair. From where he landed he jumped on one of the robbers and started beating him to a pulp, and then throwing him out a glass window.

“Looks like one of the armed robbers had been thrown from the bank.”

Another boy with brown hair runs in from the opposite doors as the girl and yells. “Guns are for sissies. Real men throw knives.” He then threw one of his knives and it curved in the air hitting a robber no where close to where the knife had originally been heading. It was incredible.

“I've been in many hostage situations like this, and it can escalate very quickly.”

The original man hops on a table pointing his gun out at the two of the before seen children plus another one. “Get back you freaks” he says walking back and forth in fear.

“Hey, be careful up there, buddy.” The knife boy calls out.

“Get back now!” The man screams.

“Yeah, I wouldn't want you to get hurt.” The girls mocking voice says.

Right before my eyes another boy teleports behind the man, sitting criss-cross on the table. “Or what?” He said calmly.

The man turns around and shoots at him but before the bullets could hit he teleports again. This time standing up with his arms crossed, clearly not impressed. But the man tries to shoot again.

“Ooh! That’s one badass stapler!” The boy laughs. The man no longer had a gun anymore but a stapler placed in his hand by the kid instead. The boy shoves the stapler into his face and the big man falls back, head hitting the floor before his body does.

“Although there’s been no activity for a few minutes, we’re gonna stay live on location to make sure we don’t miss a thing. In this hostage situation at the Capital West bank.”

The five already counted for children make way for the last and shortest one to make his move. “Do we really need to do this?” He talks quietly.

The blonde one replies to him. “Come on, Ben. There’s more guys in the vault.” So his name was Ben huh?

Ben sighs, “I didn't sign up for this.” Before walking into the room with more people. Large black tendrils illuminated the room as men screaming could be heard behind the door. And a beast roars but then the sound stops and Ben walks out again, this time covered in blood and guts.

He breathes heavily. “Can we go home now?” I felt bad for him.

The kids untied our hands and told us to run. And once it was clear to go my mom started to run out of the doors thinking I was right behind her.

“Now we see the hostages. They— They’re free. They’re scared clearly but they do seem to be unharmed.”

But I was behind her trying to help this older woman who’d slipped on the floor. As I was helping her, the kids walked out too.

“People are coming out now. It’s not the armed robbers. These are schoolchildren in uniforms with masks on. Jim Hellerman, Channel 2 News.”

But there was one not accounted for robber, the one from earlier who had been shot in the foot. I started to run out and call out to my mom who was outside. When the man got up from the floor, cocked his gun and shot at the kids.

Fortunately, he missed them but the bullet hit me.

Questions being asked to the children stopped when they saw my body flail onto the floor outside of the bank doors. I was shot right in the chest. There was blood everywhere and it started to leak over to where the kids were standing. They turned around to see where it was coming from..

Everyone looked horrified and there was a bunch of screaming. Mainly from my mother who was wailing as she ran over to hold me to her chest screaming for me to wake up. And that will be engraved in my memory forever after this day, I never wanted to hear her like this ever again.

Police started to rush over but in a matter of minutes, a miracle seemed to happen. At least to the city that is. There was a yellowish glow around my chest and the blood seemed to have reversed back into my body. Even the stains on my blue dress were gone. The bullet even spit out of my chest; it was truly witchcraft.

My eyes then shot open as I started to breathe in and out.

I don't exactly remember what I felt during those moments but I'm sure I left those people around me stunned. After all this was their first look at powers.

I couldn't care what the paramedics were talking about above my body. I was focused on the 6 children looking at me bewildered as well as the old-looking man with them and whatever my mom was saying at the time.

I was put on a stretcher and rushed to a hospital for evaluations after the pandemics came but they never found anything. It was like everything was perfectly reattached.

But as I was leaving I could see the news reporters zeroing in on the kids trying to get the details on how these children saved the bank from thievery.

“Our world is changing.” The man spoke to the crowd. “Has changed. There are some among us gifted with abilities far beyond the ordinary.” He said looking back at the children. But they weren’t paying attention, some were staring at my ambulance and some eyes were on the ground.

“I have adopted seven such children. I give you the inaugural class of the Umbrella Academy.”

I now realize thinking back, the seventh person he was talking about was me..

..

PRESENT DAY

My mouth felt like it was moving faster than my brain so I took a pause and chugged the rest of my water cup.

Once again Glorias eyes were wide open. As she took some notes down in a notebook I never noticed beyond this point.

"Uh once I got home I remember the house phone noise filled my house with its nonstop ring, the other person on the phone would change my life forever when he came in.”

“And who was that person?" Gloria asked.

"Reginald Hargeeves, eccentric billionaire and caring father from what the public knew.." I rolled my eyes.

"So I'm guessing it wasn't really like that" she asked carefully.

"He was never a father really, more like a hard state-national basketball coach." She wrote that down.

"I guess it was a hard decision for my parents to make well, my mother. My father was ready to give me up as soon as Reginald stepped foot in my small house."

"And I'm sure they thought there was nothing bad about the offer they were given, he promised I'd be raised in a steady environment with the best schooling and my powers would be used for the greater good. And in exchange, my parents would get a large sum of money for my absence."

"What were you doing during this?" Gloria worried.

"I think I was just sitting right there next to my mom actually. I definitely didn't understand at that point what was happening to me. Still thinking about the events of that day.”

"And then I was being taken out of my only home in the blink of an eye. I resisted the people taking me, starting with screaming and then kicking and then running. Back to my mom's arms, Reginald himself had to pull me away from her. The deal had already been struck and there was no taking me back."

Now looking back at my hands I could only see small teardrops on my palms. Gloria reached for a tissue from the other side of the room. "Thank you," I said as I wiped my eyes.

"I like to think that my mom was upset that day but the memory has already started to fade as I reached adulthood.

You know after that day I was no longer 'Y/n L/n' no, I was known by my new name.. Zero Hargeeves."

..

I decided that was the end of my story, at least for now because I couldn't place the pieces together anymore. I was full-on sobbing at that point.

Gloria decided to bring up something more light to talk about next but I don't remember what it was because I'd zoned out and thought about the cat she'd told me about earlier.

The two hours seemed to fly by because the last thing I heard her say was if I didn't have anything else to talk about then that would be the end of the session. My legs seemed to move on their own as I walked out of that building. I would come back at the same time next week and honestly, I think therapy was for the best. I forgot about how I felt about all these things for the longest time.

I started the journey back to the bus stop, stopping to look in the windows of shops.

Shops like bakeries and bookstores and other things like that. Until I came to a stop in front of a store with a TV sticking out in the window.

My eyes scanned the screen and they went wide. The lady on the news had a somber expression as someone died. I was feeling sad for the person's family, but then I read the red-blaring headline.

The person who died was Reginald Hargeeves...

...

Aug 14 update:

If you'd like to be added to the tag list for rest of the series (starts at chapter 10) say taglist in the comments!

[highhhfiveee]

safety net, part three

part two: 🚿 | part four: 🏆

pairing: pornstar!mike schmidt x blackfem!reader summary: y/n gets a taste of mike's world and things begin to shift. wc: 3.1k tags: lots of mentions of porn, smut (descriptions of sex being filmed, featuring unprotected sex, dirty talk, clit rubbing, squirting, some workplace intimacy lmao), angst?, exposition! proofread many times but if there are still errors, idk what to say lmao

“wow."

"i know right," you say plainly, eyes wide at your best friend, claire, as you take a large gulp of your hot latte. claire cuts her gaze to you, puffing her cheeks out in a sigh. you were always so in awe by her, the feeling proved once again when she'd actually agreed wholeheartedly to view your boyfriend's porn.

"i still don't believe that you're dating him," she sputters with outrage as she points to your computer on the dining room table, open to a still of mike with dick in hand, coming on some dark-haired girl's keen face. "and i don't believe it even more so because you decided to wait six months before telling me. i thought we were best friends!"

you can tell her outrage is whimsical by the way she faints into your arms, and you reach forward to catch her. 

"yeah but, like, best friends from adolescence that don't see each other very often. last time i saw you was three months ago." 

"okay, but by then you'd been dating him for three months, and that's almost half a year!" 

"barely, claire." 

you couldn't even believe that you were dating him. you hadn't known how you two went from meeting outside an underwhelming, overpriced restaurant to making out and cuddling intimately in mike's bed four out of seven days a week. it'd felt like no time had passed at all; you'd just been living without thinking. mike took every worry off your shoulders, freeing you of anxiety in so many ways that you couldn't believe someone that caring and accommodating was real.

he paid for your sessions after you'd mindlessly rambled about not being able to afford this therapist you really liked. he sent you the credentials to his grocery delivery membership, encouraging you to get anything you wanted or needed. you could finally consistently get things that were good, and healthy. he paid your rent, and respected the fact that you didn't want to move in with him and wanted autonomy to work and pay for your other personal expenses.

"i just want you to be happy. you tell me what you want, and we'll make it happen."

he had you and it didn't feel real. you felt like you couldn't tell anyone about it, terrified that everything would crumble if you spoke even a word about him being your partner, so sweet and good and rewarding. you didn't want to hide him, but you didn't want things to collapse. not this time. 

you wouldn't be able to take it this time. 

you explain all this to claire, ending with, "i'm sorry it took so long. i just really want this to last." you'd told her about everything, even about dating simon briefly and how he led you to mike. 

claire nods, chewing on a wedge of pineapple speared by a fork. she's given up her fainting performance, once again munching on her breakfast and clicking the pad on your laptop. the video you two were watching resumes, and you watch her face for bit, eyes shifting around the screen in intrigue, before turning back to it as well.

"you deserve it, y/n. that simon guy sounded like a dickhead. an expired card, and the bathroom excuse? fucking lame." her voice doesn't chop through the amplified sound of both mike and the girl moaning, whiny and feral. they're absolutely gone, and you're really not thinking about simon anymore. fuck him. 

now, you thought of mike.

granted, you hadn't been like the people in mike's videos, up to a certain point. you'd done the kissing and the heavy petting, but you hadn't had sex at all, in any form, and he didn't pressure you into feeling like it was some sort of requirement. he agreed with taking it slow, placing emphasis on the romantic before the sexual. you knew there would be no issues with the sexual; why rush into it when you could have the slow burn, all the tension you wanted up until you were ready?

mike hadn't fought it, and yeah, you thought, you did deserve it. you deserved to be treated like this. 

"called me over for an art date, i guess you still painted," the girl mewls with a devilish smile, licking at mike's---sorry, chase cox's---come around her mouth. 

"mhm, baby. masterpiece, if i do say so myself." mike is so pretty on the screen; sweaty and flustered, but so confident at the same time, polite too. even when he's in an act, he's so attentive; he moves hair away from eyes and wipes spit off chins and cradles waists while he adjusts his hips to hit various angles, turning almost everyone he filmed with into a "braindead fucktoy"---claire's filthy words, not yours (though you didn't mind the idea). 

the video ends with a snippet of aftercare, the both of them wiping at each other's bodies with gentle motions. it's how they all end, and you think it's really nice, showing a crucial part of sex that most people forgo. you'd seen plenty of mike's videos by now, and knew that while some were vastly more kinky than others, they all followed the same formula of care, concern, and curtesy. 

you could tell mike lived by that, too. 

"well, i gotta scoot to work," claire murmurs, leaning down to grab for her bag. "but thank you for inviting me to breakfast so you could show and tell me that you've been dating a wildly handsome, generous, and charismatic sex worker. best videos i've seen by far, honestly. are you seeing him today?" 

you nod sheepishly, and claire laughs into the sky, doctored with comical bitterness. "well, let the record show that i am both extremely jealous and extraordinarily happy for you." she gives you a toothy smile, poking at your shoulder with both index fingers. "seriously. you deserve it all." 

you carry this thought with you as you ride in one of the company's chartered cars, traversing through the roads to their main studio, the biggest one in the city. there were only 4 throughout the metro area, but this one, a gigantic penthouse isolated at the top of a 275-foot tall apartment complex, had the most space and atmosphere of them all. you remember coming here to take your picture for the all-access card mike had given you. he was so happy to gift it to you a few months ago, finally getting through after bugging the execs to give him another card with unhindered access for months. 

"finally got the hard copy, just for you. got your name on it and everything," he'd smiled so wide, clipping it on one of his merch lanyards; white with black, serif text that read, "chase cox world domination". you'd fallen over in laughter, kissing at his cheeks while thanking him between giggles. 

you hadn't been here many times over the last three months, but when you were, you were able to slip through every door and security checkpoint without hassle. people knew who you were and attended to you, telling you exactly where mike was in the studio or offering to get you any refreshments or sundries you were after. you'd always declined, extending extreme gratitude to everyone servicing you, but today, you ask for a bottle of fancy artesian water. you deserve it. 

the few times you'd been here before were usually half-hours after mike had finished a scene, helping him pack up to head home for the day, but this time, you'd come early, wanting to catch a glimpse of him at work. 

you take the elevator to the top, stepping out into the concrete foyer of the industrial workspace. the gray of the material was accented with bright art and other pops of color in furniture and decor that conveyed the new age principles and ideology of the production company. it made sense why the videos were so honored, with the people behind them being young and progressive and on the right side of history (and design). 

there are eight rooms on the floor; three for shooting, three for aesthetics and dressing, one for an office, and one for storage. there were bathrooms in three of them and two down the main hallway that opened into the formal living room/break area and kitchen. you'd been told that mike was in the hunger room; this one set up for messier, more bodily fluid oriented videos, as opposed to the softer passion and kinkier desire shooting rooms. 

the rooms are all hidden behind frosted, sliding glass doors with the titles printed onto placards affixed next to them. you find hunger after walking a little, and gently pull on the handle. the door slides open soundlessly, and you're closing it behind you as you step inside, your eyes locked on the scene in front of you. 

mike and his partner are arranged on a leather couch in a living room set, his hips shoving into her in this perceptive way. he's reading her body language and reacting accordingly, and you can see why she's moaning so genuinely, feet dangling by the ankle over mike's shoulders. the couch is already drenched in liquid, wet and puddled under the girl's ass.

he grabs for the back of the couch to go deeper, leaning down to press kisses on her lips as the cameraman focuses in on where they're connected. the sound is so lewd, and it makes you press your thighs together as you watch alongside the small production crew. 

"feel good? happy to have a friend like me? someone who knows you, knows your body? someone who makes you feel better and come harder than your stupid fucking boyfriend?" his partner mewls out a broken, exasperated, "y-yyesssss" between gritted teeth as her moans get higher and higher pitched. suddenly, she's reaching at mike's back to scratch at his skin, screaming out as mike leans off to the side of her, massaging his fingertips over her clit and cooing, "yeah, just let go. know he's never made you feel like this, wasting this perfect pussy..."

his partner squirts against the camera with a screech, loud and raw but pretty. the lens is covered in a heavy spray of bodily fluid as she arches her back and grinds her mound into mike's hand, chest rising and falling at a rapid rate. "that's fucking it," he encourages, speaking in her ear as he looks down at the mess in his peripherals and rides her through it. "just the way you deserve." you swear he locks eyes with you when he says it, and he only confirms it with the small smirk he throws your way, managing to fit it into the ending of the shot. his eyes twinkle through the aftercare segment, and he talks with his spent coworker, calling, "she just wants to sit for a second" to a PA with a chuckle. 

"okay, ten minute break and then we're shooting the come shot."

her legs slowly straighten out as mike throws the towel he's handed around his waist and slides his feet into the slippers stored behind the couch. he grabs a water from an outstretched hand as he makes his way over to you, smelling like sweat and sex and glistening with this nearly angelic post-fuck glow. it's like he's coming down from the gates of porn heaven.

"hi, my love," he muses, pulling you into a tight hug before saying, "how much did you see?" 

"like right before the squirting. it's very..." you're not sure what to say, really. maybe, just maybe, you need to change your underwear, but you don't want to be weird about it. you're sure he's heard weird, and beyond weird, but you want to maintain composure in front of his coworkers. you give him a tight smile, resting your hand on his pulsing bicep. "just makes me think things." 

"maybe we should add 'thought-provoking' to the list of labels for the company," he jokes, taking a sip of water while winking at you. "you're a genius, baby." 

you're giggling along with him, opening your mouth to continue the joke when two tanned arms reach from behind him to cross in an X over his chest. a head peeks from behind him, and she's immediately unmistakable to you. 

it's his current scene partner, who is also the girl from the video you watched earlier today. the one eager for his come, whining for him to make a mess of her face while letting him beat his dick on her tongue. you think back to all of the videos you've seen her in where she's with mike. she always comes the hardest working with him, and vice versa. something about it makes you sick. 

she's smiling at his cheek, eyes focused on his as he turns his glance towards her. her arms get tighter around him and you notice how she gets closer, pressing her front tighter against his back. "caught your breath?" 

"you know i always do," she brags, licking at her canines as her stare moves to you, looking you up and down with snarky scrutiny. "casting department's starting to slack." 

you shrink, feeling so small that you don't feel like you're interrupting something anymore. you might as well just not be there, and you're about to sink into pitiful posture when mike snarls, "hey, watch yourself. y/n, this is amelie, and li, this is y/n, my girlfriend. i told you about her." the sound of mike saying the nickname turns to bile in your throat, searing you on the way down and keeping you from speaking.

amelie gives you a blank expression now, standing beside mike with no qualms at being fully naked in front of a stranger. "y/n, y/n...not ringing any bells," she places her hands on her hips, tossing her dark, sex-tousled hair over her collarbones. "sorry."

you don't know why you're daunted by her; you're usually daunted by no one, and able to speak up for yourself when people are acting catty. this time, you can't help but be unnerved by her perfection, or how close she is to it. perfect skin, perfect hair, perfect body, perfect boobs...

"i'm kidding," amelie's smooth, beguiling voice rips you from your thoughts, and you're gasping for something to say when she continues, "he's shown me endless pictures, and knows that i think you're gorgeous." her tone picks up the tiniest bit as she quips, "my eyes are up here, by the way." she's throwing you off, frustrating you in so many ways and you're just stammering with mike looking between the two of you.

"i'm sorry---"

"it's really fine. millions of people have seen them, everyone's always thirsty for more of me and chase cox..." she drags the end of her sentence out as she runs the tips of her long, cherry red nails along the back of mike's neck, ending in a laugh.

"'mike schmidt' isn't a porn name, we already had this conversation." 

"neither is chase cox, if we're being real," they launch into a chitchat, and you once again feel like you're intruding. there's no denying that they have insane chemistry, but it still rips at you;  you're aware of them having an entire moment in front of you, complete with the body language and glances and suddenly, you don't care about their connection. mike was your boyfriend, and it didn't matter what she said or did. they'd made so many videos together, yet, every night he came home to you, and not her. 

"yeah, well you're still moaning chase when you come," 

"because i can't dox you like that--"

you clear your throat noisily, gaining their attention with an eyeroll, and amelie observes you and your curled lip with recognition of your game. she didn't expect you to have bite, not with the way you look now. you're not the assertive, 'take-no-shit' girl from the pictures mike showed her. she thinks you're merely a hint of that, and that it completely evaporates when someone lights a fire under your ass, but maybe she's wrong for once. "watched a bunch of your stuff. it was really good, you're talented." 

"thanks," her gratitude is dry and bitchy, and you're about to say more when a PA calls a two minute warning and she squints her eyes into slits at you. "hope you're ready to see a lot more of me." she uses mike's shoulder to pivot with a sly smirk, sauntering back to the now wiped down leather couch, ripples coursing through her ass with every step. 

you look to mike with astonishment, wondering where he's been during this whole thing, and who that girl is, and if she's genuine bad news or simply one of those callous girls that guys love to chase.

mike had defended you, sure, but he'd gotten captured too. what if she's indoctrinating him some--

"she's nice," you blurt, stopping yourself from the overthinking you'd resorted to. you needed to be nice to yourself. you deserved this, deserved everything you had with mike. nothing was taking that away from you, and you could feel secure in that. mike would reassure you.

he does, saying, "isn't she?" with a snicker. "don't worry about her, okay? it's her personality, and she does everyone like that, so she's not just targeting you. ignore her, and if you don't like the small jokes either, i can tell her to knock it off. whatever you want. also, lunch after i wrap?" 

you nod your head, about to say something again when the PA announces that it's time for shooting to start back up. mike gives you a fat kiss on the lips as he drops his towel into a director's chair next to you, and makes his way back over to amelie folded on the couch. her knees are by her chin at a filthy angle, and she's using a squeeze bottle with a tapered tip to squeeze shiny lube all over her clit and both holes. 

mike watches, rubbing his hand all through it to spread it around. amelie bites at her lip as he does, staring up at him with eyes that are filled with unadulterated lust, and he uses the leftover lube on his dick, stroking the slippery surface as he gets harder and harder in his hand. 

the director asks them if they're ready, and when they both answer yes, she says, "okay, we're gonna go insertion, sink in, wait five for the kiss, and go from there. alright...rolling...action." 

amelie flicks her eyes to you in a leer, winking at you like mike did earlier as he plunges into her sopping wet walls. her head falls back against the couch while she outstares you, open-mouthed moans transitioning into "cockdrunk" laughs that you know are calculated.  

you begin to chug your bottle of water, deliberately ogling her in return. you were down with playing a game for two, but not for long. 

lord. the hell i've gone through to get this up /: lmao i need to go to bed. things are about to heat up, so prepare yourselves for what's next to come!

faire's seedlings ✿

@leahdhopkins4321-@pyr0-kai-@angstywhore-@sunazroo-@nyxthoughtss-@mirophobic-@fayethor-@marixsimps-@regretfulme-@ithinkitszeph-@707xn-@cattt777-@violetta-ximena-@amnesia33-@topnerd03-@fastnights-@laprvphette-@savage-aespa-@mfdxz-@0-tatiana-0-@dusstory-@delwrites-@mikeschmidtgf

[bro-atz]

knots

in which: your coworker recommends that you see a massage therapist for your many, many muscle aches, and you do just that with massage therapist choi san

pair: san/afab!reader

word count: 4k

content: smut, masseuse!au, table sex, massage, completely consensual!

apply for the permanent taglist here!

Thank god your thighs were fucked up. Actually, it sucks. Your thighs were eternally fucked according to every single doctor you’ve ever been to. They all said that you have incredibly large knots in your thighs and that you would need more than one session to bring your thighs back to normal. You didn’t really think about seeing a massage therapist until you threw your shoulder out working your day job like there was no tomorrow.

One of your coworkers from work always told you to see one of the massage therapists at the place that she goes to.

“They’re all really good! My go-to therapist is usually Yeosang, but Wooyoung filled in for him one day, and he did a good job as well. I’m telling you, they saved my life,” she explained to you while giving you their business card.

“Do they only have male massage therapists?” you asked, unsure if you would feel comfortable having a man massage you instead of a woman.

“They do... I think… I was the same way, too, but the person at the front desk recommended Yeosang for me because each massage therapist has different styles and pressures. Some of them can be really firm, but others have a light touch. I usually need medium to firm to bounce back.”

You nodded, still hesitant about the place, but after you left work and stepped onto the sidewalk wrong and feeling a way of soreness and pain shoot through your calves and thighs, you decided that you would go to this place that your coworker told you about.

Upon entering, you were greeted by a cute receptionist who looked like a massage therapist himself.

“Welcome to SPATZ. My name is Jongho. How can I help you today?”

“Uh…” you hesitated, unsure of how to go about asking for their services.

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No…”

“Not a problem, we do take walk-ins. What kind of service are you looking for today?”

He opened his book and flipped through some pages while you thought about what parts of your body were in pain.

“Honestly, I have no idea. My doctors keep telling me about knots in my thighs, and today I threw my shoulder out at work… I guess my entire body?”

“And what kind of pressure do you prefer?” he asked without looking up from the book.

“I… I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

The man finally looked up from the book. You shifted slightly as you felt his gaze burn a hole through you and then let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding when he opened up another book and jotted down some details.

“Name?”

“Y/N.”

“Insurance and ID, please,” he asked you as he held out his hand.

You handed the cards to him. He scanned them then returned them to you as he continued to scribble away in the smaller notebook.

“Shoulder… Thighs… Your calves are a little tense, too… And your back is definitely stiff,” Jongho said to himself, but you were still able to hear him slightly. He raised his voice as he addressed you, “Luckily, we have our most versatile therapist available at the moment. Since this is your first time, you get to test out our service for free, and when the session is over, we can discuss scheduling future visits. For now, if you could just fill out this paperwork and have a seat.”

He handed you a clipboard, which you took. You didn’t take long to fill out the paperwork, but before you could get up and hand the board back to the receptionist, the door to the inside of the place opened, revealing a man who seemed more equipped to be a sports therapist than the receptionist.

“Y/N?”

“Yes!”

“Come with me.”

The man disappeared through the door, and you quickly got up, returned the board to Jongho, and shuffled towards him until you were walking right behind him. He opened another door and gestured for you to go in. You did so and stood in the room awkwardly as he shut the door behind you two. There was a table in the middle of the room and towards one of the walls was a bunch of cabinets and a countertop with a various collection of oils and lotions lined up.

“You can put your bag on this chair and have a seat on the table,” he said with mild amusement upon seeing your timidness.

You nodded and did as he instructed. There was a rolling stool near the counter and cabinets that he sat on and rolled on so that he was right in front of you. The stool was significantly shorter than the table itself, so when he rolled over, his head was near your knees. You swallowed nervously and held your legs closer together as you looked at this massage therapist.

He was beautiful. He smiled at you softly, slightly exposing his dimples which you know would go deeper the moment he laughed. He eyes were sharp, but his eyebrows were even sharper— they were definitely not sisters; they were twins. The shape of his nose accentuated all the sharp lines on his face, and his plush lips truly added to his charm. You felt your face get warm. You silently thanked God that you wouldn’t have to look at his face while he worked on your knots since he would most likely have you be face down for the most part.

“My name is San, and I’m going to be your massage therapist today,” he introduced himself. “Before we get started, what kind of pressure are you looking for?”

“I really don’t know. This is my first time getting any sort of massage, so I have no idea what kind of pressure would be best for me,” you answered truthfully.

“Okay, so what we can do is start soft, then if you need me to go harder, I can.”

It was the way he phrased that sentiment that made you shift slightly, trying to calm yourself down.

“According to Jongho, you want to work on your shoulder, legs, and lower back, right?”

You nodded. San opened one of the cabinets and pulled out a sheet. He shook out the sheet and nodded his head, indicating that you should get off the table. You did so, and he covered the table with the sheet. Then, he said, “I’m going to step out of the room for a minute. Undress, get under the sheet, and lay face down. Let me know when you’re ready.”

Your eyes widened. Why did he need you to remove your clothes? Couldn’t he just work over your clothes? San seemed to read your mind as he clarified, “To work out the knots and give you the best effect, working with skin-to-skin contact will be best.”

With a hesitant but understanding nod, you allowed San to step out of the room. You quickly removed your clothes and got under the sheet, worried that San would just step in when you were completely naked. You ensured that the sheet was tucked tightly around you so that you were only showing so much skin and put your face down. Several seconds later, San knocked on the door.

“Ready?”

“Ready!”

San entered the room again and closed the door behind him. You kept your head down as you waited for him to do his thing. You did not want to make eye contact with him at all.

The first part of your body that he uncovered was your shoulder itself, and you were suddenly aware that the side of your breast was exposed to the chilly air in the room. You pursed your lips and tried not to think about the fact that with one wrong move, San could see your entire naked backside. However, San remained professional. He didn’t pull any moves on you.

The session went really well. Your thighs had never felt such relief before. According to San, your thighs needed an insane amount of pressure, but the rest of your body needed a lighter touch. After your session, he recommended that you schedule your appointments with him if you planned on returning for their services. You did just that.

You had many, many, many sessions with San since that first time. You developed a sort of professional friendship with him in that time, and on your first anniversary since starting the services at the place he worked at, you got an email from the company itself celebrating that anniversary. To celebrate, you went for another massage.

“Can you believe I’ve been seeing you for a year?” you asked him, unaware of your choice of phrasing.

“You make it sound like we’re dating,” he responded jokingly.

Your face went red. The thought of you dating your massage therapist felt taboo in a way, but that wasn’t why you were blushing— if you ever got the chance to date someone as hot as San, you probably wouldn’t be able to function ever.

“So, what’re we working on today?” San asked as he laid out the sheet.

“I slept on my neck funny—”

“I told you not to sleep with so many pillows!”

“I’m not anymore! But I fell asleep on my sofa last night…”

“Y/N! Don’t do that! You’re going to make your condition way worse,” San lectured. “You better sleep in a proper bed tonight.”

“I will, I promise.”

“Good. Undress and go face down. We’ll work on your neck and shoulders. Also, maybe your lower back. Your posture needs a little work.”

After undressing and getting under the sheet, San entered the room. He moved the sheet down so that your traps were completely uncovered then put some oil on his hands and rubbed his hands together to generate some heat. He started massaging lightly.

You didn’t know what was different about this time. He used the same lotion as usual, and he used the same pressure, but you were incredibly turned on— maybe it was because he was massaging much slower than usual. It didn’t help when San brushed your hair away from your neck, his nails grazing the nape of your neck almost making you moan. Your ears were burning as his fingers pressed into the sides of your neck and along your shoulders.

It was only when San traced a line down your spine and blew cool air lightly along the way did you confirm that he was definitely not doing his usual service.

“San…?”

“Yes, Y/N?”

You didn’t know what to say. You wanted to call him out for not maintaining his usual style of massage, but you also didn’t want him to stop.

“Is everything okay?” San prompted since you didn’t respond.

“Y-yeah…”

“Want me to move onto your lower back?”

“Sure…”

San moved the sheet down further, exposing your lower back. He worked on your back, and his service went back to normal for a solid minute before you felt his hands work lower than your lower back. He was on your tail bone, then his hands went further. The sheet moved down even more, and the second he cupped your buttocks, you gasped and moaned slightly.

“S-san,” you said his name breathlessly.

“Yes, Y/N?”

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

“It’s a stress relieving massage. It’s meant to make every part of you feel good.”

You wanted to respond, but before you could, San squirted more oil onto your body and started rubbing your ass cheeks inwards. His firm kneading on your buttocks made your legs tingle. You had to hold onto the sides of the table to keep your sanity, your nails digging into the sheets. Small moans escaped you every so often, earning a throaty chuckle from San. The sheet completely slipped off you— rather, San pulled it off— and his hands moved to your thighs. They went from the back of your thigh to the inside, his fingers rubbing against your labia and clit over and over again. You couldn’t tell if you were wet because of the oil or because he was turning you on, but the one thing you knew for certain was that you felt the tension in your pussy build exponentially.

You gasped loudly when San’s fingers pressed into you ever so slightly, the tips of his fingernails grazing the inside of your pussy.

“You doing okay?” San asked, his voice reaching a teasing tone.

“Uh-huh,” you nearly moaned.

“So is it okay if I continue?”

“Mmhmm,” you responded, desperately needing him to help you reach your climax.

“Then flip over for me.”

San moved away from you, allowing you to turn so that you were now face up. He placed your arms and legs accordingly to assist with his massage, which meant your arms were pinned to the sides of you, and your legs were spread wide open, nearly dangling off the edges of the table. Before he resumed the massage, he poured more oil onto your body. You watched through narrowed, bleary eyes as he kept a stoic face while completely covering you with the warm oil until the bottle itself was completely empty.

The feeling of the warm oil hitting your bare skin was electrifying, and it only got better as he continued the massage. He first focused on your hip joints, your pussy still impatiently throbbing for him to satisfy you. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back as his hand neared your crotch once more, his fingers rubbing along the sides of your pussy once again while his other hand massaged your breast and played with your nipple.

Then, he drew circles over your clit. The circles started slowly at first, but they gradually sped up. Moans tumbled out of your mouth as your hands reached to push San’s away, but he had no intention of letting you interrupt his flow. He positioned himself so that no matter how you grabbed his arm to pull his fingers away from you, there was no way in hell that was going to happen.

The combination of him rubbing circles on your nipple and clit was too much for you, but you had yet to hit your climax. That was when San trapped your clit between his two fingers and rubbed vigorously, making you cum within seconds. You did your best to keep your cries of pleasure on the quiet side, but that was just not happening when San fingers slipped inside you.

“Wait, San! Ah!” you cried out as his thick fingers rushed in and out of you.

He barely gave you time to recover from your first climax, and with the added element of San’s fingers curled inside you as he pushed them in, you barely had time to resist cumming once again. You held onto San’s wrist with both of your hands, your arms weak from the pleasure. This time, you moaned loudly as you flung your head back, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure ecstasy. You prayed that San wouldn’t continue with this spectacular massage of his, and your prayers were answered. After you came the second time, San moved away from the table and grabbed a couple of towels for you and him.

“Your session is over,” San said, a hint of disappointment in his voice. “However, if you would like to extend, I’d be happy to continue with the service when I get off of work.”

Despite cumming twice within the session, you wanted more from him. You nodded, your face still flushed, your words not formulating properly, and your eyes unable to maintain eye contact with him.

“I get off my shift in thirty minutes. Wait for me in the parking lot.”

San left the room, allowing you to wipe down yourself completely, dress, and head to the parking lot. You did as he instructed and waited for him in the parking lot, anxiety starting to prick at your skin. He got off his shift right as he said he would. He walked to his car and unlocked the doors. He opened the passenger’s side door and watched you fully sit inside before closing the door on your behalf and getting into the driver’s seat.

The drive was silent. This was the first time you had ever been with your massage therapist outside of the workplace, which made you realize that you practically knew nothing about the man other than some of his hobbies and daily activities— very surface level stuff. You couldn’t even bring yourself to ask him any questions; the sexual tension was heavy, and it felt like you were choking on it.

You arrived at San’s place. You walked into his apartment timidly, completely self-conscious about the fact that he was right in front you. He led you to his bedroom where you stood awkwardly as he disappeared into his closet. He emerged bearing a soft, plush robe. He handed it to you as he said in a low, quiet voice, “Go take a shower. You still need to wash the oil off.”

“Right,” you nodded and accepted the robe.

“You can leave your clothes in the bathroom for now. When you’re done, come back into my bedroom.”

Acknowledging what he said, you went into his bathroom and did as he asked. Your mind was in a daze as you cleaned the oil off your body to the best of your ability. The evening had moved so fast that you didn’t even know exactly how you got to be standing naked in San’s shower, and you even wondered if being there that night was even a good idea; but then, your mind flashed to how good the man in the other room made you feel, and you decided that being in his apartment was definitely going to be worth it. You quickly finished up in his bathroom shortly after that revelation. Wearing the robe, you left his bathroom and returned to his bedroom, where he was standing by the foot of his bed. He had changed out of his work clothes and into a pair of grey sweatpants and a white tank top. You felt your body heat up and your face burn upon seeing him.

“Did you wash everything off, Y/N?” San asked you as he turned his entire body to face you.

“To the best of my ability.”

“Hmm, let’s check then. Lie here.”

San gestured to the side of the bed he was standing near. You walked slowly towards him before sitting then lying on the bed face up. Before getting on the bed himself, San dimmed the lights in his room. He trapped your waist between his knees, his face hovering above yours as he brushed your hair away from your face. His fingers wiped the side of your neck as if he was actually searching for any missed spots, but it was definitely a ruse— his fingers trailed down the side of your neck across your collarbones and down the center of your chest. His hand slipped under the robe and began to feel up your breast. You tilted your head to the side, squeezed your eyes shut, and whimpered as you felt San’s other hand hold your waist tightly. You couldn’t help but yelp when San ran his finger over your nipple and began to play with your nipple.

Your hands clutched the bedsheets as if you were holding on for dear life, and your legs were pressed together as you felt your pussy get wetter with every passing second. Your eyes went wide open when San moved one end of the robe away from your breast, his lips planting on your nipple instantly. Your whole body lurched as he sucked painfully hard, his tongue flicking your nipple. He still had his hand on your breast, which he squeezed as he continued to lick and suck, nearly driving you crazy. Your eyes were shut once more as you flung your head back to fully experience this newfound ecstasy.

Your eyes fluttered open when you felt his lips and hand release your breast. You watched his chest heave with every deep breath he took. Your heart fluttered as that broad chest of his lowered so that it was nearly pressed against yours. He tilted your chin so that you were forced to make eye contact with him, and you felt yourself get turned on all over again. His lips parted momentarily, as if he wanted to say something or ask you a question, but he settled for running his tongue over his lower lip before bringing his lips to meet yours.

San’s lips were sweet and warm, but his kiss was rough and hot. Your hands found his forearms and held onto them tightly as you pushed yourself further into his amazingly intense kiss. His lips were magnetic. When the kiss ended, you wanted to return to him so quickly, but he instead sat up. He had the most intense and sultry look on his face as he gazed at you.

It was only when San took his tank top off did you realize how muscular he was. Sure, you saw his biceps and triceps when you first laid eyes on him in the tank top, but you weren’t thinking about what his body looked like underneath. He remained upright as he tossed the top to the ground. You could barely count the number of abs you could see on him in the faint light, and before you could figure out the number, he took your hands in his and neared you once more. He placed your hands so that they were on the back of his neck.

“Keep your hands right there, okay?”

You nodded. You were expecting him to kiss you again, so it completely took you by surprise when his fingers untied your robe and pushed it aside, his hands forcing you to spread your legs. He rubbed your pussy lightly before checking his fingers, his tongue running along the tips of his fingers to taste. You desperately wanted to cover your red hot face in embarrassment, but you did as San told and kept your hands firmly planted on the back of his neck.

“You did a good job cleaning yourself up,” he told you, a slight smirk appearing on his face.

San lowered himself and placed his lips right by your ear, his hand returning to rubbing your pussy. You let out little erotic gasps as San’s thumb pushed lightly into you as he rubbed. You moved your head towards his, your hand slipping from his neck to his cheek. You guided him gently to kiss you as his fingers continued to make your pussy wetter.

It was when San let out impatient grunts did you begin to feel a little restless. You desperately wanted something in you whether it be his fingers or his cock, and you knew that he was reaching his limit; so, you moved your hand down to his waist and cupped his crotch, the bulge in his pants immediately getting bigger. San’s breathing hitched as he moaned your name.

Without a second to lose, San stripped himself down completely before ripping the robe off of you. You were both completely naked, and while San had seen you naked plenty of times in the past, this was the first time you ever saw him in his entirety. You couldn’t really gauge how big he was when you felt him up just moments before, so you certainly were not expecting to see a massive weapon at his disposal. Reaching towards his nightstand, San grabbed a condom and swiftly rolled it on. His hands reached for your waist and pulled you towards him gently, his lips near your neck as the tip of his dick pressed lightly against your entrance.

“Breathe in,” San whispered as if you were lying on the massage table.

You took a deep breath in, and when you exhaled, San pushed his way into you. Your exhale turned into a loud cry, your hands automatically reaching for his neck once again. You held him close to you as he began to move, your eyes squeezed shut as you felt his length reach all the way inside you and his girth stretch you out completely.

San’s thrusts slowly sped up. He was being rather gentle with you, which at first made you want to demand more from him, but when he slammed his pelvis into yours, you decided to keep your mouth shut— he was incredibly strong and big, so him being gentle was a courtesy. Loud moans left your lips as he continued to speed up, the bed underneath the two of you slightly squeaking as his fully body force moved the mattress upwards, your eyes still glued shut.

“Y/N, look at me,” San said with a rough grunt.

You blinked a couple of tears out of your eyes as you barely made eye contact with San. He wiped the tears from the corner of your eye, his other hand still firmly grasping your waist. You felt time come to a standstill when you stared into San’s deep, beautiful eyes. Just looking into your eyes was enough for him; San let out a deep shuddering sigh as he slammed into your waist loudly, his dick quivering inside you. Seeing San bite his lower lip as he came made you cum as well, a whimper leaving you as your cries of pleasure died down.

Silently, San got off his bed. He removed the condom, tied it up, and threw it away before joining you on the bed again. He laid down right next to you, his arm snaking around your waist and bringing you closer to him. You pressed your ear against his chest and listened to the sound of his beating heart as the two of you calmed down.

“How was that for you?”

“Heavenly… But San, I have a question.”

“Yeah?”

You both leaned away from each other so you could see your faces as you conversed. You unconsciously rubbed your knee against his dick, causing him to flinch and pull away from you a little bit more; you couldn’t help but giggle at his reaction.

“Why?” You asked him your question.

“Why what?”

“Why did you sleep with me?”

“Because I wanted to,” San said matter-of-factly.

“But why me?”

San let out a light exhale. His fingers brushed past your ear as he cupped your face gently and brought your face the slightest bit closer to him.

“I thought you were cute from the moment I first saw you last year, Y/N. Then, I thought you were incredibly sexy the second I saw your body.”

“You’re lying,” you said with a scoff.

“No, I’m not. Every session is always difficult for me because I always wanted to do unspeakable things to you. You know, I don’t do skin-to-skin contact with any of my other clients. Only you.”

You went silent upon hearing this confession from him. You felt your heart rate go up the tiniest bit while you asked quietly, “You really like me that much?”

“Yes, I really like you that much, Y/N.”

“So then why now of all times?”

“I finally broke today because, like you said, it’s our one year anniversary. Happy anniversary,” San stated simply as if the two of you were celebrating a romantic anniversary.

He kissed the top of your head and hugged you closer, his bare skin making yours feel fiery hot. You also felt him get incredibly turned on as his waist pressed into yours, his hips rotating slightly as he pushed himself closer to you.

“Let’s go again,” you told him, your lips right at his ear, causing him to shiver.

San pulled you on top of him in an instant, your knees on either side of his waist. He had a breathtaking smile on his face before and after you left a sweet kiss on his lips that made your heart flutter even more. He held your waist as he nodded and said, “Again.”

[its-time-to-write]

hi i love your work.

can i get touch deprived reader with jamie or roy

you totally can! It just comes at the low, low cost of way more words than you bargained for. Fair warning, Jamie isn’t even introduced for a good solid chunk of the first half. I also have been touch deprived so this is based on personal experience lol.

I feel like I let this get away from me in the same way the Vienna fic got away from me😂

sinking into your worn out mattress

It’s the same routine every day.

Wake up, get dressed, go to work, come home, make dinner, fall asleep, repeat.

It’s not a bad thing, necessarily. You’re nothing if not efficient, maximizing your time to the best of your abilities. It’s not the most glamorous thing in the world, but you enjoy it. You’re lucky enough to be working on your supervision hours under a renowned psychologist, Dr. Fieldstone in London, and it’s paid. Over half the people in your cohort are struggling through unpaid internships and juggling a second job just so they can make ends meet. You’re all propelled forward by the promise of better pay as soon as it’s all over, dreaming of the days you can own your own practice.

You’re not even sure how you landed this internship, as Dr. Fieldstone rarely ever takes on interns. (She’d tell you later it’s because she saw the same potential her supervisor saw in her.) But you have it, and you’re now assisting her in her on-location therapy to various sports teams. You’d been at a rugby club for a few months, but now it’s time to move on. Dr. Fieldstone was asked to come back to a previous club and although she’d never admit it, you know it was her favorite group to work with. It’s the only club who’s picture is on her desk. It makes you smile every time you see her surrounded by a rowdy-looking group of footballers and two very American coaches. She had said that the one with the mustache was no longer at the club, but the bearded one still was along with the angry looking man to the side and the short, grey-haired man.

You’ve seen the photo so many times that you have everyone’s faces memorized. You’re secretly excited to meet the team that made Dr. Sharon (in her colleagues’ words,) loosen up.

You weren’t friends, with Dr. Sharon, never once dropping the “doctor,” that preceded her name, but she would occasionally swing by your standard housing with a bottle of wine after a particularly difficult day. 

“This job can be emotionally draining,” she’d say. “I always wished I had someone there for me at the beginning.”

She rarely smiled or showed outward affection, but you understood that this was her way of saying she cared. 

But now you’re packing up your flat into your car, and headed to your new quarters in Richmond, London.

—

It’s apparent that Dr. Sharon has a strong connection with the players. There are a small few who allow you to run each session, most preferring to stick with who they know. Your days are mostly filled with analyses and treatment plans, with about two real session a week, one with Rojas, D and Maas, J. You don’t even sit in with Dr. Sharon much anymore, as the thought of an observer makes some of the players uncomfortable.  

It’s stressing you out.

How are you supposed to fulfill your hours when you can’t even get consistent sessions?

Dr. Sharon, in her limited kindness, refers you to a friend of hers in town. 

“She runs a small practice and works mostly with women. You’ll be able to keep your housing and fulfill your hours. If you need anything, you know where to find me.”

You look at her. “Right,” you reply, “because you’re going to have so much time to help me out between all the things you’ve got going on.”

She rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Listen. Since you’re not my intern, I can become your therapist. I’ll even give you a discounted rate since you’re still interning. We’ll set up weekly sessions. You’ll be fine.”

You’re still not sure. Dr. Sharon can see the apprehension in your face. “Alright,” she says. “If you schedule our sessions in the evening and cook dinner, I’ll do it for free. It’ll be informal, one therapist to another.”

That’s big. She rarely does anything for free. In a moment of boldness, you say that to her face.

She cracks the tiniest smile. “It’s possible that I’ve grown fond of you. And even more possible that I’m addicted to your cooking.”

Huh. You suppose miracles do still happen.

—

Sharon is over for dinner for the third time in a week, and you’re suspicious that she might actually enjoy spending time with you. You’re laughing about some stupid story that happened during a natural environment observation (it involved a slip n slide, an obscene amount of shaving cream, and footballs being thrown at players heads) when out of nowhere you feel tears slipping down your face.

“Oh my gosh” you say while maybe laughing, maybe crying, “I think I’m broken.”

Sharon (she insisted you drop the “doctor,”) asks, “Are you alright?” and you shrug while you begin full-on sobbing.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you say between gasps. “What the actual heck.”

At that, Sharon grins. You’re retaining some element of your humor, despite actually crying.

“Just go on and fucking swear already,” she says. “I think we’re past a truly professional relationship.” 

You shake your head. “No!” you say. “No, my mum wouldn’t like it.” Fresh tears start to fall at the mention of your mum. Sharon is actually concerned now.

“I’m not sure you’re alright,” she says, and you shoot her a no duh look. “Let’s discuss what might be the root of your issue. Have you been feeling differently lately?”

You’re wiping your eyes and trying so hard to get it together. You’re not even sure what your problem is. You were pretty sure you were doing fine, but you think back to your week. It had been pretty standard, nothing out of the ordinary. You shake your head.

“There is nothing too small to mention. Anything out of your usual routine? Physical discomfort, emotionally-draining sessions?” Sharon asks.

“No,” you reply, tears almost under control. “Wait. Yes.”

Sharon looks at you expectantly. “God, this is going to sound dumb.”

She reaches out to pat your hand. “There’s no such thing as too dumb,” she says in her therapist voice. 

The gesture is so much like something a sister would do. 

“Right,” you say. “Ok. My, um, the insides of my elbows like, hurt? They just feel weird, I don’t know. It started two weeks ago I think and usually I can just pinch them and it’s fine, but that’s the only thing I can think of, I guess.”

Sharon has gone full therapist, and is giving you an analytical look. “Hm,” she says. “Tell me more.”

You shrug. “There’s not much to tell. It’s not like painful, it just feels weird. I hug my pillow when I sleep and that also helps. Um, I push up my sleeves so they go around my elbows and the pressure helps.”

She asks, “When was the last time you saw a friend?” and you can’t think why this is relevant. But you also can’t remember.

“Probably since before I moved,” you say.

“And when was the last time you saw your family?”

You begin to see where she’s going.

“God,” you groan. “I’m an idiot.”

Sharon laughs. “Do you see why it’s so difficult for therapists to self-diagnose? We’re so busy trying to save the world that we forget to save ourselves.”

“But it’s so stupid,” you say. “It’s like, one of the most basic forms of self-care.”

Sharon shrugs. “Touch-starvation is a real thing. It manifests itself in different ways and apparently yours manifests itself in your elbows.”

It’s so ridiculous that you laugh. She does too, and reaches out to squeeze your arm. “I’ll be more mindful of it,” she says. “In the meantime, you need to find yourself some friends. Some people your own age. I’m prescribing you at least two nights out a week.”

You knit your eyebrows together. “I don’t even know where I would go. Or how to meet people. Or what to say!”

“That’s the problem with us therapists,” Sharon says. “We’re really best in a clinical setting. Shouldn’t be let out of the house, really. How about this; next time Richmond has some group event, you come. They’re a rowdy bunch, around your age, too. It’s an incredibly healthy environment, and you’ll be easily accepted. It will be a nice gateway to having a social life. There’s a match this weekend and they’re almost guaranteed a win, so keep your calendar open.”

You open your mouth to protest but Sharon holds up a hand. “I’m prescribing this as your mentor, not as your friend. It will be a healthy change of pace, I promise.”

—

Seeing AFC Richmond in person and off the pitch is like an out-of-body experience. 

You’re putting names to familiar faces, and getting a crash course on their personalities. 

You know Dani and Jan Maas from your short stint as their counselor, and they’ve taken it upon themselves to introduce you to everyone else. Dani is holding your elbow to guide you around to all sorts of people, and you can physically feel the serotonin production in your brain. 

You meet Higgins and his wife, the hosts of this barbecue as well as some of their children. It’s hard to miss them because they keep coming up to shoot Dani and Jan with nerf guns. They’re weirdly prepared, pulling out their own from thin air. 

“Don’t worry,” Jan says, “We’ll defend you.”

It’s very much like a large family gathering. You meet Richard, who kisses your hand and comments on your beauty. Zoreaux, who smiles and asks if you want anything to drink. Bumbercatch, who asks if you can read minds. And finally, Roy and Keeley who are standing in the kitchen and definitely were not kissing right before you walked in.

“This is one of our coaches,” Dani beams. “He and Keeley are very much in love, but they will not admit to  each other, least of all themselves.”

Roy says, “Oi!” while Keeley blushes. Jan shrugs.

“It’s true,” he says. “There is no point in dancing around it.”

“Fuck off!” says Roy, and Jan and Dani are saved from certain death by head-butt as Keeley steps between them and says, “It’s nice to meet you! We’re so glad you could come,” and wraps you in a tight hug.

She’s small, but she’s strong. You have trouble breathing for a moment in the best possible way.

“Heard you work for Dr. Sharon,” she says. “That’s got to be fucking difficult.”

You laugh. “Yeah, but not in the way you’d think,” you say. “I’d already sold my soul to my education long before I met her. She’s actually trying to help me get it back.”

Keeley grins. “Is that why you’re here then? To reinstate your soul?”

You’re cut off from replying by the appearance of someone new. This one is in Sharon’s picture too, standing in the middle slightly to the left and smiling with the tip of his tongue sticking out. You always thought he seemed like one who looked so happy and carefree because he actively chose to be that way.

“Who’s reinstatin’ their soul?” he asks, squeezing in between Dani and Keeley.

“This one here,” Keeley replies. “You met her yet? She’s Dr. Fieldstone’s protégé.”

“Oh,” you say. “No. Not really. I was just doing my internship with her, but I had to move because…” you hesitate.

“Because no one wanted to talk to her except me and Jan,” Dani helpfully fills in. 

Jan adds, “They were all intimidated by the fact that she is close to their age and so beautiful, as well stuck in their ways of having Dr. Sharon. Only Dani and I were willing to give her a chance, and she actually helped me through some important life decisions.”

You had? It hadn’t seemed that way at the time. You feel less crappy about your time at Nelson Road, though. It wasn’t like they didn’t like you, they just preferred to stick with what they know. That, you can understand.

“Mint,” Jamie says. “So you ain’t the team’s shrink anymore?”

Roy rolls his eyes. “Fucking observant, you are. She hasn’t been around in fucking ages.”

Jamie shrugs. “I was just checking!” he says defensively.

You smile. “It’s alright,” you say. “I’m sure you’re busy, and there’s always a lot of people coming and going.”

That seems to surprise Jamie. Almost as if he isn’t used to people defending him. You file his reaction away in your brain, adding it to your collection of knowledge about the football team that made Sharon zip across England for.

—

It’s been two and a half hours, and you’ve have more food and laughter than you’ve had in ages. Dani and Jan Maas had left your circle in the kitchen a while ago, fulfilling their promise to chase around the youngest Higgins boys as well as Roy’s niece Phoebe, and another girl who’s name you didn’t catch. Sam has joined your group now, and he and Jamie are funny together in a way that reminds you of your brothers. They’re constantly ragging on each other, teasing Roy, and throwing things.

Jamie, it seems, is the comedian of the group. You can tell he’s showing off, presumably because there’s a new face. When it’s time to eat, he says, “Stick with me, love, that way you don’t get stuck next to some uncultured animal,” even though Sharon is there and you’d be fine to sit with any of the boys.

But, he’s already grabbed your hand and is pulling you to a spot near Roy and Keeley as Sharon looks on with an amused expression. You send her a single pleading glance (although you’re not sure what you’re pleading for) and she just gives you a shooing motion. She’s happy to sit with Rebecca and her boyfriend. And someone who’s name you’re pretty sure is Coach Beard. 

Ever the gentleman, Jamie pulls out your chair for you before settling into his own. There are tables all throughout the house and a few in the front yard, and you’re glad he picked one outside. It’s a little cloudy, but nice weather.

And god, there are people. People who are talking to you, hugging you, tapping you on the arm and holding your hand, even if it is just to make sure you don’t get separated in the stampede to find seating. Your arms aren’t even a little sore, and you can feel Sharon’s observing eyes on you. You know for a fact she’s going to have a lot to say next time you have dinner, but for now all you can think about is the way Jamie’s arm is pressed against yours, as he leans in to explain a football term that Roy just used to threaten Jamie with.

—

You’re not sure how long this party is supposed to last, but it’s three hours later and there is no sign of stopping. The sun is just barely starting to dip, and time has lost all meaning. You don’t know if the meal you ate was supposed to be lunch or dinner but it doesn’t matter because you’re so full that you can barely make room for the pile of desserts that Mrs. Higgins has pulled out. 

You’ve moved inside now, since Jamie pulled you through the dessert line saying, “You have to come with me, so I can put my dessert on your plate. That way grandad can’t have a fit.” You understand that “grandad” is Roy.

You’re smart enough to notice that Jamie’s hand is in yours at every opportunity he can find, and that he’s still holding it even though you’ve finished your dessert and are flopped on a couch inside. He’s absentmindedly rubbing circles with his thumb as you chatter on about nothing. 

“Oi,” he says, when you’ve lapsed into silence, “is this alright?”

You’re not sure what he means until he holds up your still-intertwined hands.

“Keeley says I’m more touchy than most. Don’t want to fuckin’ weird you out or some shit.”

You smile. “You’re fine. It’s actually really nice.” You decide to leave it at that. No point in explaining touch-deprivation to the cute footballer you just met. Talk about oversharing.

Jamie smiles back, a real one that lights up his whole face.

“Mint,” he says.

—

“Jamie’s romantically interested in you,” says Sharon’s voice through the phone.

“How do you know that?” you ask. It’s the morning after the Higgins party and you only have a 2pm session. Sharon texted you to call her as soon as you woke up, so you do and she drops a bombshell on the first ring. You doubt Jamie would have told her this himself, as Dr. Fieldstone isn’t one to break a confidence.

“Basic body language,” she replies. “Repeated physical contact, the way his body was angled toward yours all day, the fact that he went out of his way to make you smile. All classic markers of romantic attraction. Any trained therapist should be able to pick up on it.”

What she means is, you’re a trained therapist. You should be picking up on it.

“There’s no way,” you say, but it comes out more doubtful than you’d hoped. 

“Right,” says Sharon, “there’s no way. In the same way that there’s no way I’m only mentoring you because I see myself in you.”

“Oh,” you reply weakly, because that’s a lot to unpack. 

“Oh,” she mimics. “Right. Well. I’ve got to go. Make sure you remember the mental exercises I gave you. Therapists need to take care of their minds too.”

You say thanks and hang up. 

Oh.

—

You’re home again from your session, and you are tired. It was mentally exhausting and all you can think about are the pair of sweatpants in the drawer by your bed and the box of pizza that should be at your flat in fifteen-to-twenty minutes. That was about thirteen minutes ago, and you’ve just been puttering about since placing the call and changing out of work clothes. 

There’s a knock on the door and you say a quiet yes, before hurrying to answer. You open the door to two people on your doorstep instead of one.

“This your pizza?” the delivery boy asks. You nod, thank him, and hand him the money. He’s gone so you acknowledge the other person in front of you.

“How’d you know where I live?”

Jamie shrugs. “Asked Dr. Fieldstone. She isn’t as scary as she looks.”

“And why are you here?”

You place the pizza down on the small table in your entryway. It hasn’t escaped your notice that Jamie is practically standing in your doorframe now, inches away from you.

He wraps his hands in the front of his shirt. “Isaac was telling me about body science,” he says. “Been teaching me how to read people and shit based on how they move.”

You nod. Body language. Yeah, you know a thing or two about that.

“Anyway, he said you thought I was proper fit. Which is good, because I think you’re proper fit. But, just in case he were wrong, I thought I’d come over and give you a chance to tell me.”

His left hand is on the doorframe now, and you can see the top of his tattoo peeking out from under his bright orange hoodie. There is exactly one inch between you two as he slants his body toward yours.

“You can tell me to bugger off, if you want,” he murmurs. “Won’t hurt my feelings.”

You don’t say anything, just stand on your toes the tiniest bit so he has better access to your mouth. 

You can feel his breath when he pulls away.

“Oh,” he says, “I didn’t come here for sex. Me mum raised a gentleman. I’d buy you a coupla dinners first.”

“Shut up and kiss me already, Tartt,” you say, and he’s grinning, free hand cupping the back of your head.

—

You think that’s probably the fastest you’ve ever gotten into a relationship.

“Labels are important, babe,” Jamie had said that night. “How else will you know if food is poisonous?”

You’re pretty sure he’s talking about checking for allergens, but you don’t correct him. You’re on your couch watching a movie with his arm around your shoulders. He’s playing with strands of your hair and it’s strange that you’re this comfortable with a boy you just met yesterday.

Because he is a boy. You’re the same age, but you feel impossibly, inadequately young. He plays it off as youthful exuberance, and you’re sure it’s an advantage on the pitch. Your age doesn’t feel like an advantage to you, but you can’t change it so you might as well just deal with what you’ve got.

You can be professional in the morning, but right now you’ve got a cute, fit boy who thinks you’re cute and fit and so far has not given off red flags. You’re extra alert ever since your call with Sharon, trying to pick up on every subtlety, but you stop trying as soon as Jamie rolls up a piece of pizza like a burrito and tries to fit it all in his mouth. You know that Sharon would have been the first to tell you if this was a bad idea, and the fact that she even told you Jamie was interested is basically like her giving her blessing.

Jamie leaves too soon, but he does so with your number in his phone and the promise of “a proper date,” as soon as you both can manage.

—

“A proper date,” turned into two proper dates, then three, then four, then seeing each other steadily throughout the weeks, then your first sleepover after the third week. Your skin was all tingly when Jamie invited you over to his for dinner, telling you he was going to cook for you. You knew exactly what was going to happen that night and made sure you were prepared. 

You dressed nice, in clothes that gave him easy access to your skin underneath. 

“Am I rushing this?” you had asked Sharon the day before. “I’m asking you as my mentor. Am I being an idiot?”

Sharon had taken a moment to consider before answering. “You’re smart for your age. And wise beyond your years. I don’t think you’re being an idiot. We can’t let our work consume us, no matter how important it is. You’re a brilliant therapist. You’re always giving yourself away to those around you. You deserve something for yourself, and you know how to pick a good one.”

You hugged her for those words. She seemed startled, but accepted it. You didn’t think life could get much better. 

You were wrong. You discovered life could be so much better the moment Jamie’s hand slid under your skirt and you were kicking off your shoes on the way up the stairs. 

“Stay,” he whispered when you were done. “It’s fuckin’ late anyway. You can use my shower and wear one of my shirts. I have an extra toothbrush. I fucking hate sleeping alone.”

So you’re in one of his t-shirts and your underwear, arms wrapped around Jamie’s waist. 

You think what am I doing? but Jamie presses a soft, sleepy kiss to your temple and you think maybe you’re doing something right.

—

It’s been a hell of a week. You’re swamped, Jamie’s always at training, and neither of you have been able to make the time to see the other in days. Your inner arms are sore again, and your dinners with Sharon have been short and extremely clinical in a way you desperately need. However, once-a-week therapy is not enough to get rid of the feeling you have, and you wake up throughout the night holding your pillow as if it were Jamie. 

You’ve gotten used to having his hand in yours, your head on his shoulder, knees touching and arms wrapped tight around your body. Having it taken away is worse than before, because at least then you didn’t really know what you were missing. Now, you feel as if you’re going to die unless someone does something, even if it’s just a high-five. 

You’re sitting at your kitchen table, one knee pulled up to your chest as you review case notes. Your food has gone cold because all you can do is cry. You’re so tired and so lonely and it shouldn’t be this way, but it is and you’re just over it. There’s a knock at the door so you wipe your eyes and answer it, hoping you look normal.

It’s Jamie.

The moment you register who it is, you’re launching yourself into his arms, wrapping around him like a spider monkey. He laughs. “Hello to you too,” he says, spinning you around. He stops when he feels you shaking in his arms. 

“Oi,” he says, frowning a little, “you alright, love?”

He can feel tears on his neck.

“Babe,” he says, “did something happen at work?”

You shake your head, face still buried into the crook of his neck. “I just missed you,” you croak, voice muffled.

Jamie chuckles at that. You’re lucky he’s strong, because he’s able to carry you to the couch like it’s nothing, kicking the door shut behind him without losing his balance. He settles with you in his arms, rubbing a pattern on your back. 

“It’s alright, love, I’m here,” he says, and you’ve never been more grateful for the fact that he calls you love more than your actual name. It’s like he’s always reminding you how he feels about you.

You just hold him tighter, letting the terrible feeling you had all week fade away. When it’s mostly gone, you pull away so you can look him in the face.

“I- I have this thing,” you say. Jamie looks concerned.

“Are you dyin’?” he asks.

“No!” you reply. “No, I’m not dying. I have- I’m touch-deprived. I let it get really bad sometimes and then I can physically feel it. You can look it up, it’s a real thing.” You don’t know why you feel the need to defend yourself. Jamie’s just looking at you, all quiet seriousness.

“That what it’s called?” he asks. “I know what you mean. Fucking had it two years ago. Used to egg Roy on just so he’d push me around and the lads’d have to hold me back. Wasn’t near me mum anymore, so I didn’t have anyone to hug me or anything. Sounds dumb, but… I just needed someone to touch me. Like if they didn’t, it meant I didn’t exist. Fucking mental.”

“Mental,” you agree.

Jamie smiles. “You’re the fucking best, you know that?” he asks. “I’m never bored when I’m with you. Came over to see if you wanted to watch a movie or play video games.” 

He’s stroking your cheek with one hand, other still wrapped around your back.

You smile back. “I really, really love you Jamie Tartt. I’ll play video games, I just don’t want to play FIFA.”

Jamie’s smile drops. “Shit,” he says, and you think it’s because you don’t want to play his favorite video game. “You weren’t supposed to say it first, I was. I was gonna tell you tonight anyway.”

“It’s not a big deal, babe,” you say.

“No.” He shakes his head. “It’s a big fuckin’ deal. Now I’ve got to make it up to you.”

“No you don’t,” you say.

“Yes I do,” he replies. “I’m gonna tell you every fucking day how much I love you. I’ll drive home early from away games just to hug you. I want you to always feel like you have the love you deserve.”

You’re at a loss for words.

“Cat got your tongue, don’t it?” Jamie asks cheekily. “Not a problem, babe. I know how to get it back.”

[ihrthoney]

stupid

pairings: touya todoroki x f!reader (no actual relationship atm, it’s more of a reunion thing but with romantic intentions)

warnings: fluff, touya backstory

word count: 2.8k (JESUS😭)

an: touya is alive and well tyvm! most likely will make a part 2 :p

It had been about two years and Touya was finally out of the hospital. When your body is near death, time flies by. The first few months were times he didn’t ever want to relive, the mental and physical pain he had to endure when healing his body was intense. After every session, he would knock out until he had to start the next test. 

As promised, he talked to his father every single day. The rest of his family would visit separately or by themself. Since their first visit, Natuso has never been in the same room as their father, Touya understands and respects his decision of course.

Society on the other hand… let’s just say he gets everything delivered to him to avoid the public as much as he can. Given it’s been two years, the rise of heroes has already begun (again) and the crime rate has never been lower; but for his sanity, he does not want to be recognized. 

His nerves always spike when he’s forced to go out but his mom and sister think exposure therapy is good. Speaking of therapy, he’s been seeing a therapist since he could properly talk again. Since he was a villain he has to do community service for ten years, technically eight in present times. Every day for eight hours he helps different companies and programs with whatever they need. As exhausting as it is, he knows it’s the least he can do for being a big factor in hero society collapsing. 

Currently, he’s with his siblings shopping for clothes and it feels like community service. He loves his sister, he really does, but they’ve been shopping for hours and his ass hurts from sitting so much as she tries on different outfits. Thankfully Natsuo had joined (was dragged) them or else he would’ve fallen asleep three stores ago. Fuyumi said Natsuo always agrees so they can leave the store quicker and that a second opinion is always nice! She said Shoto was too busy with school and training to stay plus he was too sheltered to know about things that weren't hero-related (they’re so grateful for his friends).

Fuyumi is in a fitting room trying on a few dresses for an event their mom is a part of. The boys already had their outfits ready (a suit and tie) so there was no need for them to shop, they were seated right in front of the door Fuyumi was in, other seats next to them were either empty or also filled with someone waiting.

The door opened and Touya instinctively looked up, just as he did when someone walked past him and it made his blood, ironically, run cold. Quickly, he hides his face behind Natsuo which confuses the latter, “What are you doing??”

Acting dumb, “What do you mean?”, his eyes continue to look at the seat. “I mean why are you hiding?”, awkwardly he tries to hug Natsuo, “Hiding? I’m just trying to give my brother affection of course!”

Pushing the older’s arms off of him, Touya sits back and watches as his brother’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion, “Nice try, do you think I’m stupid?” “Yes.” “Shut up!”

Before they could continue with their teasing, Fuyumi walks out with a few items in hand, gesturing they go to the register and pay.

On their way there she asks, “What were you two arguing about?” Touya was reminded of why he froze to his seat and all the memories started to flood in. 

-

“What are you doing?” A small voice appeared next to him, rustling sounds as someone sat next to him.

Annoyingly, he turned to see who cared enough to bother him during lunch. Touya was frowning, wanting to go home and train but his frown vanished when he saw you. Your hair was split into pigtails with turquoise rubber bands and an all-might lunch box in your hands. 

“It’s none of your business.” He quipped, upset at such a person distracting him. He frowns again at your response, “That’s not very nice. My mom said if you don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all.” 

He always hated that saying because it was something he needed to learn, “That’s stupid.” His arms are crossed, now angry at the scolding. Instantly you replied with, “You’re stupid!” 

Touya whipped his head around at your insult and he stood up, “You’re stupider!” He yelled, which caused you to yell even louder, “You’re the stupidest!” 

The little fight between you two somehow sparked into a competition to prove who wasn’t stupid by stating your test scores, to demonstrating your quirks, then arguing about pro-heroes. From that day forward you guys were glued to each other’s side, eating lunch and spending breaks together. Touya had even invited you to his house, to his mom’s delightful surprise.

Everyday was spent together,

until he died. 

The loss of Touya destroyed you, school had become lonely and you distanced yourself from people in fear of losing someone else. The other kids only knew you as the girl whose friend died, which made them avoid you and your grief.

After graduating middle school, you never continued in your path to become a hero, unable to stomach death and violence. Instead, you went to a normal high school and a little college that gave you enough knowledge to have a name to yourself that you were satisfied with. 

Despite the loss, the Todoroki’s never forgot about you; Anytime they saw you in public you guys would quickly catch up, you’ve even seen their mom once a few times. Rei was an angel to be around, she had a very caring aura even after everything she’s been through.

Honestly, you were incredibly nervous when visiting her, you shouldered a ton of guilt for not being able to save Touya from his desire to be a hero. She cried at the confession, Fuyumi did too, you all shared a lengthy and heartfelt conversation about your grief. 

After that conversation, you and Fuyumi grew very close! Whenever she wasn’t busy with teaching her students you guys would meet up and go to festivals, chat over drinks or freak out together over your guys’ shared interests. 

Fuyumi became one of your best friends so it was no surprise when you recognized her at the store. 

-

“Hey Yumi!!” You beam at his sister, your eyes bright as you walk around the counter to hug his sister. While Touya isn’t tall enough to tower over you, he still has to slightly look down to meet your eyes.

He watched as you both chatted, something about Fuyumi needing a last minute dress for their mom’s event, to you… also going.. to the event.

“What are you going to wear?” His sister asked, showing her outfit in her hands and questioning which one to buy. “I have the blue version of this dress! You should get this one so we can match!” Excitedly, you pointed at a simple white dress Fuyumi had in her hands, which made her grab the other dresses and reach them towards Natsuo.

“Could you put these dresses back please!” Natuso whined, “How am I supposed to know where they go?” Touya tries to keep his eyes remained on his brother in fear you’ll recognize him. Not that it would be shocking given that he announced his existence on national television.

Your arms come into view as you grab the clothes from his sister's hands, “It’s okay, I can put it away!” Feeling embarrassed, Fuyumi tries to exclaim that it’s okay and she can put it away but you insisted that it was your job.

So you work in this clothing store.

“Don’t worry about it, you’re always too kind to me Yumi. Come over to this register, I can ring you up!” The former villain doesn’t know whether or not to feel relieved or hurt that you haven’t noticed his presence. Maybe you did and you’re ignoring him? Or maybe you just think he’s one of Natsuo’s friends? There’s a million questions that run through his mind, so much so that by the time he snaps back to reality, you’re handing Fuyumi her receipt.

As they exit the store, he musters up some courage to look at you and to his shock you’re already looking at him. Instead of looking away, you give him a small smile and he matches it, before turning his attention to the door in front of him. 

The walk to the car is quiet, the sound of the wind rustling the trees and feet scratching against rocks on the road. He gets into the backseat, claiming the passenger seat makes him carsick.

Fuyumi was quick to address the elephant in the room, not even giving him time to put his seatbelt on, “Why didn’t you say anything?” She turned around and looked back at him.

Natsuo started the car but didn’t move to reverse, “Wasn’t she your first and only friend in school?” Touya pouted at the fact that his brother stated, you were his first crush too. 

“I doubt she recognized me or maybe she didn’t want to.” Being vulnerable was still a hard thing for him, so his sentence was merely whispered but curse Fuyumi for having good ears, “Don’t say that! Of course she recognized you, she was just shy. Plus, you didn’t even look at her!”

The elder scoffs at having not been slick, “Say something to her next time, she’s been wanting to talk to you.” Touya is confused at what his sister mentioned, “What do you mean she wants to talk to me??” 

Fuyumi’s expression makes it seem like she was caught doing something bad, but she was never good at secrets, “Yn is aware of your existence, she reached out to me when you were first admitted to the hospital after the fight all those years ago. She was very worried but didn’t feel like it was her place even though we insisted she visited. I really think you should talk to her.”

“Yeah talk to her! Don’t be a wuss big bro!”

“Shut up!”

That night, Touya couldn’t get any sleep, he was too busy thinking about all the times he would search for you when he was Dabi. There were too many times when he wanted to just go up to you, to watch you smile at him even if under the guise of customer service, but he couldn’t do that to you. Dabi didn’t want you to look at what he had become, what he’s done. So like his past, he erased you from his mind and focused on his goal.

-

Until his eyes could do nothing but focus on you standing right in front of him. 

Tonight he and his family (minus their dad of course, he wasn’t allowed near Natsuo) were in the ballroom of some hotel that his mom’s club was hosting. After getting out of the ward, his mom joined a community club that takes care of plants, it keeps her busy and happy.

This event was to celebrate the success of the plant business’ success in growth, there were mini games for the children of the members, food and a live band. It was quite nice, not as loud as he prepared himself for it to be.

Although, right now he couldn’t hear anything over the raging beat of his heart. There you were, greeting his mother. As always you were so beautiful, he couldn’t believe you were so close. The dress you were wearing did match Fuyumi’s, who just now bumped his shoulder, “Talk to her you idiot.” 

“How can I? I died, killed people, almost died, and now I’m-” His sister interrupts with that kind voice of hers, she was always so reassuring, “Alive, with a second chance. Trust me, she misses you.” 

Before Touya got a chance to think of a reply, you made eye contact with him. His mother followed her gaze and beamed at the sight of him, waving him down.

Touya could never say no to his mom, not anymore. So, against his will he walked towards you two. His eyes never once left yours even if he wanted to look away, hating the way you stared at him, it made him feel too conscious of his skin. While he doesn’t have staples of purple skin, it's still apparent where his scars were. 

“We’ll leave you two alone.” And just like that his mom and sister disappeared. The air was awkward, he didn’t know what to say. How does someone even start a conversation after everything he’s done?

Every doubt, any negative thought he’s ever had dissipates when he hears your angelic voice, “I like your hair.”

He can’t remember the last time he’s heard your voice that wasn’t through his jagged memories of you. It’s softer and smoother than when you were kids yet it carries a lightness that makes him straighten his back and hold out his hand towards you, 

“Would you like to dance?”

Heat crawls up his neck at the feeling of your soft hands grabbing his own, he feels like that naive little kid all over again.

With your hand in his, you both make your way to the dancefloor where the band starts to slow down their tune, a soft melody intertwining in the air, “I will be honest, I don’t actually know how to dance.” Touya admits embarrassingly, he didn’t have the time and even when he did he rejected any activity that wasn’t training. 

Slightly, you squeeze his hand in reassurance, “It’s okay, neither do I.” The most he knows about slow dancing is from the movies his siblings forced him to watch, who would’ve thought those dumb romance movies would have helped him.

“Is it okay if I?” His eyes gesture to his hands hovering above your waist, Shyly, you nod and he places his hands on your waist, gently moving your body closer to his. You take the close space as a sign to move your hands onto his shoulders.

Slowly, your bodies sway to the music, lights dim, colors of blue and a soft white flash over the dance floor, covering the red hue on Touya’s face. It was odd, two people who were friends for a few years in middle school met again a decade later at an event none of them were a part of. 

As always, you’re the one to break the silence, “How are you?” Your eyes are no longer looking into his, instead looking at the stupid tie he was forced to wear, “As good as a convicted criminal can be.” 

Nothing is said for a little bit, Touya starts to worry that he joked too soon, “How are you doing? I’m sorry for not saying anything when you were working.. I didn’t really know how to.”

Now you look up at him, “That’s stupid.”

He laughs at the memory that rises at your words, “A girl once told me that her mom told her, if you-” “Don’t have anything nice to say then don’t say anything at all, yeah yeah.” You roll your eyes as he mimics your words from your first encounter, that same smile you gave him when he saw you working but bigger, brighter too. 

“I’ve missed you yn.” 

Even with the dim lights, he can see the tears well up in your eyes, “I’ve missed you too, more than you could possibly ever know. I was so angry at you, learning how you died. I grieved for so long and when I was finally okay, the news of your existence flashed on my tv and I was angry all over again.” He hasn’t even realized that he was crying until your hands moved to wipe his tears, actual tears instead of thick lines of blood.

“I wanted to yell at you, to kick your ass, but seeing you in the hospital… I just wanted to talk to you again. I’m sorry I never visited.” Touya quickly assures you that there was no need for you to ever apologize and that it was him who needed to beg for your forgiveness for putting you through such pain.

“You’re free to do it all, I’m so sorry.” The tears wouldn’t stop flowing, years of guilt still streaming through him. 

“After all this time and you’re still a crybaby.” At the comment he turns his head away, a soft mutter denying such assumptions.

“‘m not a crybaby.” Your hand moves to turn his face towards yours, “That’s right, you’re a big crybaby.” He wants to be annoyed at the testing, but it’s you. Just like his family, his heart is weak for you. 

Years and years spent apart, the young flame his heart lit for you starts to warm again. The version of himself that met you still lives, still craving your presence. 

It’s too early to dive into those emotions, for now he’ll soak up the warmth your laugh radiates. He’s got all the time in the world.

© ihrthoney. reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated𑁤

[discount-shades]

Sleepy Baby Part 1

a/n: I got this in my head and couldn’t find another fic that mentioned it. This is the first fic I've ever written.

Pairing: Jake “Hangman” Seresin/reader

Warning: brief mentions of car crash and cheating

Word Count: 1100 ish

Summary: Jake must defend his call sign to a stranger, and he is on a timer. 

Previous          Masterlist          Next

You checked the timer on your phone for the third time, sighing at the 32 minutes remaining. One hour, every week, socializing with strangers. That was the deal you made with your therapist. 

Eighteen months after a horrific car crash killed your fiancé and childhood best friend your therapist suggested you ‘get back out there.’ It wasn’t just their deaths that you were working through in your twice monthly therapy sessions. It was the fact that she was blowing him when they crashed. You thought that was something that only happened in movies and tv shows.  Your grief was… complicated. 

So here you were at the bar of the week nursing a whiskey sour until the timer on your phone said you could go home. You surreptitiously glance around. Judging by the uniforms of the other patrons and the décor the Hard Deck was a military bar. You massage your temples and check your phone again, 29 minutes to go. 

“Need some company while you wait for your date?” You glance to your left at the southern drawl. An unfairly handsome man in a uniform with green eyes is looking down at you and you stare a little too long. “I’ve been watching you check your phone,” he explains, “he’s an idiot to keep you waiting.“ 

“I'm not expecting company,” you roll your eyes at him. “But thank you for assuming I’m being stood up. It was definitely the vibe I was going for.” You take another sip of your drink so you have something to do with your hands. 

A slow smile breaks out across his face. “In that case I’m Hangman.”

“I'm sorry your parents hated you.”

At your deadpan response he chuckles. “It’s my call sign,” he explains smugly. “I'm a fighter pilot.” He is easily the most attractive man in the bar and he knows it, and there is something about his inflated ego that makes you want to pop it. Just a little.

“Hangman like the spelling game?” you ask and he nods and brushes your arm, leaning into you.

You hum noncommittally, cocking your head as you look at him. “You know some schools discourage playing hangman.” You tell him. “They don’t want to encourage violence in children so they play Sleepy Baby instead.”

“Sleepy Baby?” He asks in confusion, leaning back.

“Yeah, you draw a baby in a crib instead of a man on the gallows,” you grin at his scandalized expression. “You could change your pilot name to Sleepy Baby, so you don’t scare the children and all.” 

“Darling, you are the only one I’d let call me ‘baby’.” You laugh at his smooth recovery. “What’s your name, beautiful?” He is charming despite his ego and his intense stare is giving you butterflies. 

“Tic-tac-toe.” 

“Imma call you Hugs and Kisses and you can call me Baby.” You can’t help but laugh at his confidence. 

“So if you are not waiting for anyone why are you always checking on your phone?” The pilot sits down beside you leaning forward again so his knees brush against yours. 

You contemplate your answer before deciding that fuck it, you will be at another bar next week and will never see the handsome pilot again so might as well be honest. “My therapist has suggested that I should ‘socialize with adults that are not coworkers or the children I work with.’” You explain. “So one hour a week I must socialize.” You wave your hand vaguely at the bar. 

“Are you one of those teachers banning hangman?” He asks in mock outrage, graciously glossing over most of your explanation. 

“Child Activity Coordinator at a local library actually, but yeah I’ve been know to play a few rounds of Sleepy Baby.” You say with a shrug.“ Some parents get upset at certain things and it’s easier just to avoid it than die on the hill of hangman. Plus there was one little boy who would cry when the man was hung so it was best to avoid the tears.”

“He would cry every time?” The green eyed pilot has a fond smile on his face. 

You nodded. “I mean the same kid also cried when someone stole his imaginary kitten so some things can’t be helped but sometimes it’s just easier to avoid it.” You said with a grin remembering the moment. 

“It’s hard to believe we live in a world where imaginary kittens aren’t even safe.” He shakes his head solemnly and you burst out laughing. The unexpected arrival of the cocky pilot has been a delightful addition to your evening. 

“So one hour a week?” He asks, raising an eyebrow. “How much time do I have left?”

You check your phone, “you have 17 minutes, Flyboy.” You grin. “So what made you join the AirForce?”

He looks offended. “Darling, I'm a Naval Aviator.” 

You blink blankly at him. “I was genuinely not aware the Navy had pilots.” 

“The navy has aircraft carriers,” he grins “who do you think flies the planes?”

“Honestly, I never thought about it and I think I just assumed it was a Navy / Air Force cooperation situation.” You trail off still thinking before shrugging. “I guess you learn something new every day.”

“I could teach you something else,” he sends you a flirty wink.

“I think I’ve reached my knowledge quota for the day,” you laugh back. “But what did you learn today?”

“That my call sign breaks the heart of little boys and their stolen imaginary kittens, and I could use a therapist that suggests going to a bar.”

“Good news Sleepy Baby, I don't think you needed the help to make it here.”

You feel your phone vibrate in your pocket notifying you that your hour is up and a not so small part of you is disappointed. You pull your phone out and hold up the timer to the pilot in front of you. “That’s time.”

“Can I get your number?” He asks hopefully as you gather your purse and finish your drink. “We could spend the full hour together next time, therapists advice on socializing and all.”

“I’ll pass this time, but next time, who knows?” You say as you stand, feeling a little sad that you will never see him again. 

“As long as you remember, Hugs and Kisses, I’m in the Navy.” 

You look up at him grinning. “Don’t worry, I’ll remember.” 

As you leave you walk by the jukebox glancing down and see the perfect song on the track lists. You hit the number grinning to yourself as you walk to the door. 

When you reach the exit you turn around and find the green eyed pilot has made his way back to some others in uniforms at the pool table. “Hey Baby,” you call out over the noise of the bar. You grin when he looks up eagerly as the Village People begins to play over the jukebox. “This song’s for you!”  You shoot him a mock salute as you walk out the door. 

[allaboutnayeli]

could've been [i.engen x reader]

prompt: after all the regret, ingrid finally changes. too bad you aren't there to see it.

author notes: this is my sorry for making ingrid so toxic in part one, i swear she is ten times better in this one. hope y'all enjoy itt! look at the bottom of the fic for another surprise.

warnings: angst but not in a (part one) way, lots of mentions of regret, ingrid gets help finally, rejection, and more 🤗

masterlist to other two parts

PLEASE, ALLOW ME TO SHOW

YOU SOMETHING

MM, SOMEBODY GIVE ME, YEAH

SOMEBODY GIVE ME, UH

SOMEBODY TELL ME THE ANSWERS

ME AND YOU ISN'T THE ANSWER (UH)

ME AND YOU ISN'T (NO)

MAYBE I'M TELLIN' MYSELF THAT

BUT THERE AIN'T NOTHIN' THAT'LL

CHANGE THAT

WHAT GOOD WOULD IT BE IF I KNEW

HOW YOU FELT ABOUT ME? (YEAH)

healing, change, forgiveness takes time. especially when one is trying to forgive themselves for their actions.

ingrid's therapist told her this in her most recent appointment when she broke down; her tears and words trying to express the guilt that still hangs heavy in her heart. the way she sobs almost makes it seem like she's the victim in the situation. that she was the one played with and cursed at and left to overthink. ingrid knows this. she knows how fucked up it looks to cry after being the one to do all the hurting, but her therapist reminded her that this is one step on the road to being better. those genuine tears of guilt shows remorse. now actions and effort needs to be put behind them so that those tears aren't put to waste.

when the norwegian whispers out, "what if i have done this sooner? do you think she would have left?" her therapist just gives her a small shake of the head before explaining that the past is the past.

"y/n is not the answer to all your problems. she's not the solution, you are. she may have been your first motivation, but now it's time for yourself to be the motivation. you are doing this for the betterment of you," the woman who goes by the name ms. alcaraz says. the way one of her legs are crossed over the other reminds ingrid of how you use to sit whenever listening to ingrid's rambles about her favorite show. y'all's favorite show. she always found it a little funny how many thoughts and items and mannerisms led back to you in her mind.

ms. alcaraz snaps her fingers to get ingrid out of her head. another thing the norwegian needs to work on; less focusing on the past and more looking at the future. "understand? enough dwelling on how you treated her and more working on the problems that led you to those actions," the therapist says as ingrid nods. that makes complete sense even if almost makes her heart snap in half. all she wants to do is remember and dwell and regret over and over again until she runs herself ragged.

the rest of the session is spent figuring out ways for ingrid to finally stop focusing all her on energy on the non-existent forgiveness she wanted from you and how she can finally start to forgive herself. ms. alcaraz proposes for her to write a letter to you. an actual physical letter. not a text from her fake page or an call from a text now number, a physical letter that ingrid would be forbidden to send. the norwegian wants to tell ms. alcaraz no. that this won't help anything. that it will actually make things worst and how she just couldn't do that but then she remembered how many times "couldn't do it" slipped out of her mouth when she talked to you. how badly that impacted your relationship. the fear that was vocal in those words always annoyed you; and ingrid knew this every single time. she just couldn't bring herself to push past that fear and do it. so no, this time around she can do it. will do it. if not for her then for you. even if you won't ever see it and it will just be laying on her desk for days to come, she had to do this.

you deserve an apology, some type of effort even if the only thing left of you in barcelona is just memories.

all ingrid thought about after leaving the session was what to say. what words could express how deeply she regrets everything and how wrong she was? god she just didn't know.

it has been three months since ingrid made the choice to go to therapy and do something about all her issues. for such a long time after you left all ingrid did was cry herself to sleep on her couch every night and then act completely fine all day in front of her "boyfriend" and everyone else. it took one month in therapy for her to break things off with him; her therapist explained to her how leading him on into believing their relationship was worth anything was wrong and will only lead to pain. not just for him, but for her too since being with someone she didn't love wasn't good for her mental health.

it was month two when she finally sat and accepted that she was a lesbian. "i'm a lesbian and i don't understand what that means for me? i can't... i don't know how to.." ingrid said one day at a session as she picked at the skin near her nails. the appointment was actually supposed to be focused on ingrid's fear of being judged and her fear of people's opinions but her vocally proclaiming that she is infact a lesbian led to a different direction for that day. the first direction was worked on in the next appointment with it being a perfect follow up to helping ingrid with her identity crisis.

month three's word of the month was fear. ingrid hated month three. every single last session was focused on what she fears, why she fears it, and how to overcome that fear. she hated it so badly just because the ingrained reaction to fear in her mind is to run. to shut down and isolate or to lash out and explode. there was never a in-between, but now it had to be. that's what she needed if she ever wanted to get better. that's what she needed to make sure all her regret didn't go to waste.

back to that dreadful letter. ingrid went straight to her desk when she reached her apartment. looking around her bedroom for some paper and pen so she could write down the apology she has been wanting to say to you for ages. ingrid finds a paper and a pen in mere minutes, but as she sits down at her desk she stalls for a moment.

is this even worth it? what if this makes everything worse? what if she spirals and can't even figure out what to say? too many what ifs. too much uncertainty. ingrid hated this. she hated that she couldn't just do it. what is her fucking problem?

tears well up in her eyes as she looks at the blank page. her mind was nothing like it. her mind is messy and full and feels like it's going to slip out of her brain onto the floor.

this won't help.

this won't change anything.

this can't change the past.

ingrid won't change, she can't, she's unable to. she's going to be stuck being a horrible person who can't do anything right. someone who fucks up everything in their life. a failure. no wonder you left; she was a fucking mess.

the norwegian doesn't even notice how her tears are now dripping onto the paper. no, no, no. she has to stop. she can't, won't, refuses to give up. if not for herself than at least for you.

do this for you, ingrid. letting your panic blur your vision won't lead to anything good. breathe, just breathe. let it go.

just write and say whatever is what ingrid mentally says to herself as she picks up the pen and starts writing. her fingers are so shaky that the letters on the page are hardly readable, but the emotions are there. the regret, the sorrow, the pain.

ingrid's so sorry.

and she had to make sure you knew that; in spirit. not in actuality.

so she writes and writes and writes until her fingers feel numb.

dear y/n,

i don't know how to start this off or even what to say. you will never see this, but i want it to be perfect. i ruined everything because i was just so afraid. i was scared to find out how people would react if they knew about us and instead of telling you more about my thoughts, i pushed you away. not just pushed you away, i exploded and treated you like shit to make sure you didn't to be near me. at first when i first started to act out i thought you would leave, but you didn't. why didn't you leave? i will never understand it. i'm so grateful you didn't because the moments when i wasn't being a horrible girlfriend, yes i can freely say that we were together now, were the best moments of my life in all honesty. you didn't give up on us, i did. i'm the one who kept running away. who kept using others to make it seem like our relationship was nothing important. you should have left and taught me lesson. well i guess you finally did, but that was after i put you though months of emotional pain. i was an awful girlfriend who let my own personal issues ruin everything and i ruined you. i know i did. and i'm so sorry. i love you, y/n. i love you so much and i don't know how i will ever move on.

IT COULD'VE BEEN RIGHT, BUT

I WAS WRONG (UH)

ONLY THINK 'BOUT YOU WHEN

I'M ALONE (YEAH)

THE PART OF ME THAT CARED IS

ALMOST GONE

AND I KNOW THAT I CAN'T GET CAUGHT UP

WE COULD'VE BEEN

AND WE TRY TO PRETEND

EVERY NOW AND AGAIN

WE DON'T DREAM ABOUT, DON'T

THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE BEEN

THOUGH I'M HOLDING IT IN

'CAUSE I KNOW IN THE END

YOU DREAM ABOUT, I THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE BEEN

WE COULD'VE BEEN (DAMN)

WE COULD'VE (DAMN)

when you first left you were the only thing filling up ingrid's thoughts. from the moment she woke up, while getting ready for the day, at practice, on the way back home from practice, at matches, during press conferences, every single moment that she was awake she thought about you.

however after the first few months of therapy, slowly but surely you started to slip her thoughts. she started to get back into her hobbies and became more focused at games. you were slowly becoming a memory for her; that didn't mean the regret and pain wasn't still there. those emotions will always hang in the back of her mind even when she moves on. to the day ingrid is on her deathbed, the bullshit she pulled on you will always stay there; that pain will be taken to the grave.

ms. alcaraz has helped her learn how to live on with those emotions. instead of shutting down whenever ingrid felt like everything was too much she would write or meditate or do yoga. anything to clear her mind.

but there's nights where all the norwegian can do is lay in bed. scrolling down on your instagram. even looking at content posted by the san diego wave social media just to get a glimpse of you. when she saw how you and that mystery brunette has already moved in with eachother she wanted to scream. all of those hours of therapy helped her, they really have, but still the immense urge to just explode rests on her chest.

the urge to just blow up your phone with a text now number. the violent urge to just text you on instagram over and over again until you either answer or block her fake page. the burning urge to leave very specific hate comments under your posts about only things she would know shimmers inside of her. however those urges are never answered.

ingrid has changed. she isn't her past self and she can finally feel proud about it. however still she couldn't block your instagram. her scrolling time has gone down from the entire night to just two hours with the help of therapy, but two hours is two hours too much. ingrid knows this.

she still wants some type of connection to you even if it's just a one way street. she can't help it, so for now she will scroll until she either feels satisfied or like she wants to pull out her hair.

after all that the norwegian wonders to herself what went wrong between you two; she already knows that answer. it was her. it was all her fault, but still it's fun to wonder how it would have been if you two had stayed together. if ingrid wasn't scared out of her mind of public scunity. god she hates the what if's that cloud her mind after seeing you happy with your new girlfriend for the ninth time that week.

sometimes, even though her therapist warned her that it could slow down the work ingrid has been doing on herself, ingrid thinks about a different reality. where you and her had an actual happy relationship that was public. you two would be loved by the public. living a great life together and when you two retire y'all would decide to adopt a little girl. the norwegian is unsure of what name you two would have picked out, but it would be gorgeous just like you. that faraway dream always ends with you two living out the rest of y'all's retired days in norway in a quiet neighborhood.

what she would do for that to be true is something she doesn't want to think about. ingrid still hates herself sometimes for what happened, but slowly you are leaving her life fully; and surprisingly she's not even sad about it. actually she welcomes it. those months of therapy are working their magic on her.

REMEMBER?

REMEMBER THE NIGHT IN MIAMI?

FIRST TIME YOU PUT YOUR ARMS

AROUND ME

I'M UP REMINISCIN' (OOH, YEAH)

AND THINKING 'BOUT YOU ISN'T HELPING

THINKING 'BOUT YOU DOESN'T TELL ME

WHAT GOOD WOULD IT DO IF I

DECIDE TO FACE THE TRUTH

IT COULD'VE BEEN RIGHT, BUT I WAS WRONG

ONLY THINK 'BOUT YOU WHEN I'M ALONE

YOU ONLY HIT ME UP WHEN SHE'S NOT HOME

AND THAT'S WHY I CAN'T GET CAUGHT UP

WE COULD'VE BEEN

AND WE TRY TO PRETEND

EVERY NOW AND AGAIN

WE DON'T DREAM ABOUT, DON'T

THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE BEEN (OH YEAH)

THOUGH I'M HOLDING IT IN

'CAUSE I KNOW IN THE END

YOU DREAM ABOUT, I THINK ABOUT WHAT

WE COULD'VE, WE COULD'VE BEEN

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN, WE COULD'VE BEEN

ingrid doesn't know when, but sometime after she hit the sixth month of therapy she started to move on from you. something she never thought she would be doing, but she also didn't think you would ever leave either or that she would be in therapy these days so ingrid got used to the surprises that invaded her life.

slowly her heart started to wander towards someone else. a certain tattooed spaniard whose smile sends shivers down her spine; mapi.

ingrid doesn't know when the lines between friendship and love started to blur with mapi, but they did. the spainard was someone she went to when everything got too overwhelming and her therapist's hours were closed. clinging to mapi's waist as her head rests on the defender chest. "sometimes i just feel so stuck you know.. like all my progress wasn't worth it," the norwegian mumbles. mapi's hands rub soft circles on her lower back as she listens. taking in every word ingrid says. "you're never stuck, life always has to move on. just try your best every time, ingrid" she says softly. that's how it always was when mapi comforted ingrid and frankly, the norwegian loves it.

their friendship wasn't always that close. back when you left, ingrid had isolated herself socially. she would go to outings with the team and her little cover-up boyfriend, but she wasn't talking as much as she usually was or drinking or just being her usual self. then after the third month of therapy ms. alcaraz helped her understand that isolation doesn't help anything and that she needs a support system, so ingrid started to go back into being more social. it really did help along with all the therapy she was doing.

then she just started to gravitate towards mapi. it was something alluring and fun about the defender. and it was the same for mapi. she thought ingrid was gorgeous since the first day they met, but never got a chance to get close to her. with ingrid's attention on her, mapi finally found the opportunity to become friends. maybe even more.

only a few weeks of this closeness and it bled into something more. ingrid would be scared of how fast things are going usually, this is how you two's mess of a relationship started, but her therapist has told her to welcome new things. not to run away from the things she wants anymore.

she wants mapi.

ingrid refused to let this new situation stay the way it is. she wanted a relationship, not a messy situationship. since she was the problem in you two's relationship, ingrid decided to be the one to start off on the right foot in this new one.

"can i take you out?" the norwegian asks one day while mapi was cooking some dinner in ingrid's apartment while wearing her pajamas; yeah this had to become something official sooner rather than later. they're already in too deep.

mapi gives her a quick glance over her shoulder, a small smirk on her lips. she just shrugs as she goes back to cooking. "i would love that," mapi says. bringing the freshly cooked food still in the pan over to the table. "i have plates you know" ingrid says playfully as she smiles. mapi rolls her eyes playfully as she turns back to the counter to grab two forks from the drawer. "we don't need them, chica" the spaniard chuckles as she sits down at the table. scooting her chair closer to ingrid's until their legs touch.

the warmth of the first bite was just like the warmth ingrid has been on the receiving end of. mapi is warm like the sun; an overwhelming presence that fills any room it steps in. mapi is ingrid's star and hopefully her only star for the rest of their lives.

the week after is when they decide to go out. it's on a sunday which has officially become their day since the two footballers always hang out on that day especially. spending the whole day together while doing mundane things. however this one was extra special, because they were going out instead of staying in.

ingrid stands in front of the floor length mirror in her living room. checking out the blue silk dress she decided to wear with black heels to match. is too formal? ingrid thinks to herself. she isn't able to dwell more on the topic as a knock at the door interrupts her thoughts.

mapi.

a smile already reaches the norwegian's face as she walks over to her front door. opening it to see a nicely dressed mapi. the spainard put on a black dress, similar to ingrid's. "didn't think we would be matching, bonita," mapi chuckles as she takes in ingrid's look. she looks gorgeous. mapi gets a bit distracting as she checks out ingrid before looking back at the woman's face. "huh? sorry. you're just too beautiful right now," mapi smiles.

"oh? more than usual?" ingrid jokes as she gestures for mapi to come inside. closing the door behind them before walking over to her couch to grab her jacket and purse. "hm of course not. you always look amazing. i just couldn't stop my eyes from wandering, that's all," mapi says as she leans against the door. smiling once ingrid turns back around and smiles back at her.

"let's go, bonita" the spainard says as she grabs ingrid's hand. interlocking it with hers. then they leave out of the door. a burst of giggles leaving them both as ingrid almost trips over her heels.

the rest of the night is full of happiness like that. the two footballers go out for dinner firstly then some ice cream for dessert and a small walk around the streets to end it off.

ingrid smiles at mapi as they stand in front of mapi's car. their date is sadly coming to an end and spending the night together wasn't in the question; can't go too fast. "can i kiss you?" mapi says softly as their hands interlock, swinging slightly. "i don't know, can you, maria?" mapi just laughs at ingrid's words before pulling her into a short kiss.

after savoring the moment, the two pull away from each other. shy smiles sitting on both of their lips. ingrid pecks mapi's cheek before letting go of her hand and running off to go inside her apartment building. mapi just chuckles as she watches ingrid run into the building.

ingrid's still smiling once she gets inside of her apartment. she couldn't believe how well the date went. those fears of possibly fucking up another relationship fade away as she changes out of her dress. kicking off her heels that been hurting her feet since they had ice cream.

as she slips into the shower, darker emotions cloud her mind. why does she suddenly feel guilty? those burning feelings of regret claw at her conscience as the hot water hits her body.

does she deserve to move on? after all the hurt she caused you, did she deserve to be happy with someone else?

the norwegian thinks back on you two's first unofficial date. with you both being too shy to call it an actual date; just calling it a simple hangout. it was a festival happening around this time in barcelona so of course you had to bring ingrid out there. that night was full of laughter and fun with it ending with a sweet kiss done near the beach. ingrid sometimes wonder what would have happened if she would have just asked you to be her girlfriend right after that moment. if she would have let your situation turn into an actual relationship. if she would had gone public with you on her social media months into the situationship like she did with that cover-up. would things be different? would you have been here right now and this night of fun of mapi would have never existed? for some reason ingrid frowns just thinking about that possibility.

in the past, all she wanted was to go back and fix everything so you two could be together in the present. however, now after her date with mapi she didn't want that. would it really have been better? the teenage puppy love feelings that were coursing through her isn't the same as the feelings she felt with you. the fear of being known tainted whatever love that was between you two.

it doesn't matter anymore. let it go. ingrid thinks to herself as she shuts off the water before stepping out of the shower. she looks at herself in the mirror as she dries her hair. she's done. ingrid realizes she has finally done it.

she has fallen out of love with you. out of love with constantly feeling the regret and guilt. ingrid is over you and ready to move onto more things in her life. ones that don't involve overthinking constantly about what she's done to you.

ingrid has forgiven herself.

that was the night ingrid blocked your instagram and deleted your number.

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN, YEAH

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN

AYY

WHAT WE COULD'VE BEEN

WHAT WE SHOULD'VE BEEN

IF I WASN'T, IF I WASN'T WITH SOMEBODY

IF YOU GOTTA HIDE IT, WHAT'S

THE POINT OF TRYING?

I AIN'T JUST YOUR FRIEND, NO, WHAT'S

THE POINT OF LYING?

TRYA SELL A STORY AIN'T NOBODY BUYIN'

LOOK ME IN MY EYES, DON'T THAT FEEL NICE?

WHY SHOULD IT END? BABY I COULD'VE BEEN

I COULD'VE BEEN HIM, MORE

THAN YOUR FRIEND

JUST SAY WHERE AND WHEN, WHERE

TO MAKE A TRIP

BABY, MAKE A WISH, BE THE ONE I'M WITH

SHOULD'VE BEEN A, SHOULD'VE, COULD'VE,

WOULD HAVE BEEN, AYY

YEAH, I WOULD HAVE BEEN (DAMN)

YEAH, I WOULD HAVE BEEN (YEAH)

DAMN, DAMN (COULD'VE BEEN)

YEAH, WE COULD'VE BEEN (OH NO)

around four months later, after officially getting together with mapi, ingrid decides to face her biggest fear. the one that toppled you two's relationship.

she posts a photo of mapi kissing her on the cheek on her instagram. cutting off her phone the moment it's posted, she may not be scared of having a public lesbian relationship anymore but still she didn't want to look at the comments.

nearly a full year of therapy has changed her into a much better person and girlfriend. the teasing comments from her teammates about them not knowing she was into girls weren't as frightening as she thought they would be. the online discussion about the reveal of mapi and her relationship was more positive than she expected.

oh, it really was just the fear holding her back.

it has been months upon months since ingrid had last seen you and she was fine with keeping it that way. of course she knew eventually you two would see each other somewhere. the women's football world is only so big with most women footballers being around each other at the same events and campaigns. however she didn't think it would be so soon.

she had been invited to an event by puma for their new campaign with puma athletes. it was later on during the event when ingrid spots you. one moment she's eating peacefully on her pasta and the next she's looking up to see your eyes on her.

what..?

she doesn't remember you being a puma athlete. perhaps that partnership happened after she blocked your instagram. god, now all that pasta is about to come up out of her throat. ingrid wants to run and run until this night is just a distant memory, but she doesn't. because ingrid is a different woman now. she doesn't run away from her fears now, she faces them.

the eye contact between you two doesn't last long as you look away. ingrid's throat feels like it's collapsing in on itself as she stands up and heads towards the bathroom.

as the norwegian throws some water on her face before looking up in the mirror. you come into the bathroom, warily standing next to the door as you look at her. "i didn't expect to see you again," you say softly. ingrid gives you a glance before sighing. this was a chance to at least give you an apology.

"y/n, i'm so sorry. for everything. i ruined something that could have been great and i treated you horribly. you didn't deserve that.." ingrid says as she looks at her, trying to see your reaction. you stay silent as you gesture for her to continue. "i was so afraid and needed so much help. i'm sorry it took you being hurt enough to leave for me to get it. i been doing therapy for months now and i am a way better person now," ingrid gives you an apologetic smile, "just know it was all me. never you. everything that happened was never your fault, y/n."

silence fills up the room as she finishes talking. you just blankly stare at her. it unnerves her, but it's okay. she's ready to see whatever reaction you will give.

"i don't forgive you.." are the words that come out of your mouth. ingrid just nods; it's understandable after all she's done to you. "but i'm glad you got help. finally," you say. she can tell you are being genuine with your tone.

the two of you look at each other before you turn and leave the bathroom. ingrid leaves out a bit after. heading back to her table feeling lighter than before.

she didn't get forgiveness, but you acknowledged how much work she has done. that's all she needed.

author notes: LMAOO it took me so long to finish this, but it's done. so basically i made another version of this part where ingrid is a little less sane in the head and also i plan to make a part 3 focused on the reader. which will be the last part (unless i change my mind), so if y'all could vote on what y'all want me to post first please do.