#full k scribble | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lostfracturess · 4 months

Text

symptoms and causes | ch. 05

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

ღ summary he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

ღ wc 11.4 k

ღ warnings [18+] this story contains substance abuse/addiction, (rough) smut, mature themes, self-destructive behavior, (heavy) angst, mentions of death / illness / blood / abuse, graphic medical procedures. reader discretion is advised.

ღ author's note dive in and let me know what you think—i love hearing your thoughts! & pls like or repost if you enjoyed, it means the world ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

The alarm rang.

The shrill sound pierced the morning silence.

It rang again.

And then a third time.

Each buzz felt like a hammer against your skull.

You groaned, turning over and burying your head under the covers. All you wanted was to sleep—to sleep and forget.

The alarm rang a fourth time.

Fuck.

With a sigh, you dragged yourself out of bed.

You felt sick.

By the time you hurried towards the auditorium, the sun was already high in the sky, casting harsh lights across the campus. You slipped through the doors. The lecture was already in full swing, the professor's voice echoing through the large room filled with students scribbling notes.

Finding your way to where Toge, Maki, and Yuta were seated, you quietly slid into the empty seat beside them. Maki glanced at you with a raised eyebrow.

"Why so late?" she whispered.

"Poor sleep," you muttered, keeping your gaze lowered to hide the dark circles under your eyes.

'Poor sleep' was an understatement.

'No sleep' was more fitting.

Yuta leaned in. "After the surgery, I thought you'd be on cloud nine! You're practically a campus celebrity now."

Maki nodded. "Seriously, it's insane. Dr. Handsome letting you take the lead in such a surgery? That's crazy."

Your stomach churned at Maki's casual reference to Satoru as 'Dr. Handsome.'

Because he was far from.

"Crazy," Toge repeated.

"It's really not that big, guys. Let's just focus on the lecture," you urged. Somehow, their congratulations felt hollow, knowing the full story was far from great as they painted it to be.

Your friends shot you surprised looks, taken aback by your restrained response.

But talking about the surgery—the surgery you had to lead because Satoru was fucking high on some shit was really the least thing you wanted to talk about. And you couldn't really talk about it either, could you? Not really.

Maki and Yuta exchanged glances, their expressions shifting from excitement to concern. They could sense something was off, but they didn't press further. Toge only gave you a reassuring pat on the back.

As the professor delved into—... whatever he was lecturing on—your mind couldn't help but drift back to the surgery, replaying every moment—the fear, the nausea, the burden Satoru had forced onto you. Your head throbbed with a dull, relentless pain.

The rest of the lecture seemed to drift by in a blur.

Your pen moved mechanically across the notebook. You barely registered the words on the page. As the professor finished and the students around you began to stir, Yuta leaned over. "Hey, if Gojo needs a kick in the ass, just say the word. We've got your back."

You mustered a small smile. "Thanks, Yuta."

Then your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out to see Geto's name flashing on the screen. You pondered for a moment if you should even answer the call. Taking a deep breath, you answered.

"Geto—"

"We need to talk about the surgery," Geto's voice was serious, almost grave. "The university director wants to see you in his office. It's urgent."

Panic fluttered in your chest. "Has something happened? Is it about Gojo?"

"It's better we discuss this in person. I'll be there too. Just come as soon as you can."

Ending the call, a heavy weight settled in your stomach.

Apologizing to Yuta, you quickly gathered your things. "I need to go."

Maki's eyes followed you. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm not sure. Something's come up."

Yuta and Toge exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring Maki's concern. "If you need anything, just let us know," Yuta said.

You nodded, offering a half-hearted smile. "Thanks, guys. I'll catch up with you later."

As you hurried out of the auditorium, your mind raced. What could they possibly want to discuss about the surgery? And why now? Was this about Satoru?

The walk to the director's office felt like an eternity, each step echoing your growing anxiety. The campus around you was bathed in sunlight, the sun burning on your skin. Students laughed and chatted around you. You wanted to shut them up.

Reaching the office, you took a moment to compose yourself before knocking. The door swung open, revealing Geto and Satoru seated in front of the director's expansive desk.

"Please, come in," director Yaga gestured for you to enter.

Director Yaga moved to sit behind his desk, his face unreadable. You took a deep breath and stepped inside. Satoru rose from his chair as you approached to offer you the seat.

Stupid Satoru, why he be so gentleman after all.

As you sat down, Satoru remained standing next to you. His hand rested on the back of your chair.

Director Yaga adjusted his glasses, his gaze sharp. "I've called this meeting to address concerns regarding the recent surgery," he stated. "It has come to my attention that you, rather than Dr. Gojo, performed the operation. I would like an explanation."

You felt a lump form in your throat, your mind racing to find the right words. Before you could answer, Satoru spoke.

"Director, I assure you, the decision to let her lead was entirely professional. Her capabilities made her the best choice for this surgery."

Director Yaga's gaze hardened as he turned to Gojo. "Dr. Gojo, may I ask you, are you out of your mind? There are protocols and hierarchies in place for a reason. Allowing a student to lead such a critical procedure is not only unconventional—it's downright mad. This could have serious consequences."

"Director, I understand your concern. However, I made this decision not only because of her exceptional skills, but also to promote her potential. It was a calculated risk, one I felt was necessary for her growth as a surgeon."

Wow. He lied very convincing.

Director Yaga seemed surprised for a second. "Promoting potential is one thing, being stupid is another, Dr. Gojo."

Gojo shifted slightly. It felt as if he moved a little more in front of you.

At this point, Geto, who had been silent, spoke up. "I was aware of Dr. Gojo's decision and supported it. The success of the surgery speaks for itself and reflects the high level of training our students receive here. I'm sure the press will acknowledge this as well."

"Why must you two always cause me headaches?" Director Yaga sighed, rubbing his temples wearily. "Nevertheless, the media coverage has been overwhelmingly positive. It seems the press is quite taken with the story of the 'unconventional surgeon duo' at our university."

"In light of this, there will be a press conference next week to celebrate the success and highlight the university's advances in medical research. I expect the three of you to attend. It's an excellent opportunity to showcase our institution's capabilities and your work," Yaga continued.

The idea of a press conference made you sick.

You did not want any of this. You did not want praise for something you did out of necessity. The thought of facing the media and answering questions about the surgery made you sick.

Geto's expression tightened. "And to gather more funds for the university, I assume?"

Director Yaga met Geto's gaze squarely. "You understand the game, Dr. Geto. Positive publicity translates to funding opportunities. And let's not forget, it's funding that enables us to pursue advanced research and provide top-tier education."

Director Yaga leaned a bit more over his desk. "Especially given the... unconventional methods you two seem to prefer. Remember, such reckless gambles come at a cost."

Geto exhaled deeply. "Understood, Director. We'll be there."

As the meeting concluded and you stood to leave, Director Yaga added, "This is a great moment for all of us. Let's make sure we present ourselves in the best way possible."

As soon as the door to Director Yaga's office closed behind you, you wanted noting more than to leave.

Looking at him hurt.

"We'll talk later, Geto," you said abruptly.

Geto nodded. "Take care."

You offered a quick, forced smile and hastily made your way down the corridor. Gojo made a move to follow. However, Geto reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder to halt him. "Let her go, Satoru," Geto said quietly. "She needs some time alone."

Gojo stopped. He watched helplessly as you disappeared around the corner.

─── ·✧· ───

Later that day, you found yourself in the university's library, surrounded by books and notes, with Toge, Maki, and Yuta. Your friends had been tiptoeing around the subject since the morning, but their curiosity about the surgery was so obvious.

"So," Maki started cautiously, "what did Director Yaga want to talk about? Was it about the surgery?"

You felt a chill at her question. "Oh, it was just some standard follow-up stuff. Nothing important."

Yuta leaned in. "But you were great in that surgery. Everyone's talking about it. You should be proud of yourself."

You forced a smile. "I am, Yuta. More or less. I just don't like the spotlight."

Toge chimed in, "Pressure."

"Yeah, exactly," you agreed.

Maki observed you closely. "And how are things with Dr. Handsome? Everything okay there?"

You felt a lump form in your throat. "Everything's fine."

However, Maki didn't seem convinced. "You know you can talk to us, right? If something's bothering you—"

Yeah, you wished you could do that. But the reality was that you couldn't.

"It's complicated, Maki," you said softly.

Maki's frown deepened. "You know, whatever it is, don't let him get to you too much. He's just a man after all."

You knew Maki meant well, but it wasn't as simple as she made it out to be.

"Maki, it's just—"

"I get that something's going on, but remember, no matter how great a surgeon he is, or how charming he is, you are the real star of this surgery. Don't let anyone, not even Dr. Handsome, mess with that," Maki added.

You looked at her, your lips twitching upwards. "Thanks, Maki."

Exhausted, you let your forehead rest against the cool surface of the desk. "There's going to be a press conference about the surgery," you said, your voice muffled. "A celebration or something. And honestly, I'm already hating it."

Yuta perked up at this. "A press conference? That's huge! You're basically a celebrity now."

"I'd rather just focus on my studies and not be in the spotlight like this."

"Hey, think of it this way—it's a great chance to show off your talent. Plus, I heard the medical faculty is throwing a party afterward," Yuta said.

Maki nudged you playfully. "Come on, it might be fun. We'll wait for you at the afterparty when your conference thing is done."

You raised your head and rested your chin on your hand, considering their words. "Well, a party doesn't sound too bad, I guess."

Maki clapped her hands together. "That's more like it! We'll make sure you have a good time."

"Exactly!" Yuta said, grinning.

"Party!" Toge added.

A small smile crept onto your face as you looked at your friends. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad after all. Besides, as the saying goes, a little party never killed nobody, right?

... right?

─── ·✧· ───

"Here, for your nerves," Geto said, handing you a glass of champagne.

"Thanks." You grabbed the glass and downed the bubbling liquid in one gulp. "This is quite a place."

You and Geto entered the conference venue.

The main foyer had soaring ceilings adorned with dazzling crystal chandeliers, casting a soft light on the marble floors below. The crowd, a blend of famous medical professionals, university staff and press people, mingled in groups, all engaged in animated discussions that filled the grand space with a lively hum.

"Remember, just stay calm and be yourself," Geto whispered as you both moved through the crowd. "You've earned your place here tonight." Then he handed you another glass of champagne, fetched from a passing waiter.

You nodded, trying to suppress the urge to flee.

The room was filled with faces, some familiar and others new. The conference area was impeccably arranged, with a stage set up at one end of the hall for speeches and presentations. Press cameras lined the sidelines. Tables adorned with floral arrangements were spread throughout the room.

"All this for a single surgery?" you asked Geto as you scanned the room.

Geto swirled the champagne in his glass. "It's more than just the surgery. The university needs money, that's why we're here."

"Looks like they're spending more than they'll earn."

Geto subtly gestured with his glass towards an elderly woman across form you. "See her? She's one of our main benefactors. Director Yaga would do anything to please her. So, we dress up, exchange pleasantries, sip champagne, and in return, she continues her generous support. That's the deal."

Your gaze followed his. "So it's all about keeping the money flowing. They're not really here for the research behind the surgery."

"Does that surprise you?"

You took a sip of your champagne. "No. It makes me sick."

Goto let out a huff. "By the way, you look stunning tonight," he remarked, his eyes tracing your form, but it didn't feel uncomfortable.

You were dressed in a sleek, black dress. Black heels. Elegant but nothing special. You didn't want to draw more attention to yourself than you already were.

Geto walked beside you, dressed in a meticulously tailored black suit that fit him perfectly. Beneath the suit, he wore a white dress shirt and a black silk tie. If you didn't know better, you could have been mistaken for a couple, given how matching your outfits were.

"You don't look to bad yourself."

He laughed. "Well, I'll take that as a compliment."

As you mingled with the guests, you could feel the curious glances and hushed tones of those around you. Word of your role in the successful surgery had obviously spread, and now you were the center of attention for the evening.

Geto stayed by your side the whole time, introducing you to important people and making sure your champagne glass was never empty. You weren't sure the latter was such a good idea. But it calmed your nerves.

You were deep in conversation with a group of medical professionals, discussing the surgery, when you suddenly felt the atmosphere changed. Your eyes swept over the crowd and there he was—Satoru Gojo had just walked in.

Every head in the room seemed to turn in his direction, yet his eyes seemed focused solely on one person. You weren't sure you knew how to breathe anymore as his gaze seemed to pierce through the crowd, settling directly on you. It was the first time you'd seen him since director Yaga's office.

He was dressed in a sharp black smoking jacket, his bow tie perfectly knotted. But his eyes looked tired. His lips parted ever so slightly.

One of the medical professionals from another University in your group—her name was something with Tsukomu, or Tsukumo? You didn't quite get it—waved him over. "Ah, there's the star of the evening," she exclaimed.

Satoru made his way through the crowd. As he reached your group, he positioned himself next to you as if it were the most natural thing in the world—as if he belonged there.

"Dr. Gojo, we were just discussing your remarkable surgery," Dr. Tsukumo said enthusiastically. "Your work is truly groundbreaking in our field."

"Thank you, Dr. Tsukumo. However, I must clarify that the true credit goes to this talented surgeon," he said, placing a hand on your shoulder. You wanted to break his arm.

She laughed uncomfortable. "It's rather unusual for a student to lead such a complex surgery. Quite an unconventional approach, don't you think?"

"Unconventional, but successful," Satoru replied sharply. "Here at Tokyo University, we rather encourage innovation. Perhaps your institution wouldn't be so terrible at research if you were willing to take more risks?"

Silence.

God, what was he doing!?

Was he high again??

You looked up at him, his gaze fixed on Dr. Tsukumo. Even in heels, he was still at least a head taller than you. But he didn't seem to be high or something. He seemed clear.

Dr. Tsukumo's eyes narrowed slightly. "Well, Dr. Gojo, that's quite a statement. But you know, there's a fine line between taking risks and just being plain reckless."

His hand still resting on your shoulder, Satoru met her gaze squarely. "You're absolutely right. There is a fine line, and you'd be well advised not to cross it," he replied. "In this case, though, it was a calculated decision based on her proven skill, not recklessness. Sometimes embracing innovation and trusting our young talents is what drives progress, don't you think?"

Geto leaned in. "Satoru, that's enough," he murmured.

Satoru removed his hand from your shoulder and stepped back from the group. His eyes briefly met yours. "Excuse me," Satoru said curtly, before turning and making his way through the crowd.

Your eyes followed him until you could no longer see him.

As the evening wore on, one conversation blended into another.

Wow, you're so young? Already performing surgeries? How did you manage that? You must be a natural talent!

You heard it over and over—answered the same questions over and over. No one really seemed to care about the details of your work, the thought process behind it, or how the patient is doing now—or how one patient had to die for the surgery to be successful.

Recognizing your discomfort, Geto suggested, "Let's step outside for a bit. I could use a smoke."

Following him, you left the bustling conference hall and ventured out to the quieter grounds surrounding the building. The cool night air was a welcome contrast to the warmth and buzz of the event inside. The building's exterior was illuminated with soft lights, casting a serene glow over the surroundings.

Geto pulled out a cigarette and lit it. He took a long drag before exhaling slowly. "You're doing well in there," he said, glancing at you. "Don't fret too much about it. We're just here to keep the university happy."

"Is that all?" You retorted. "Putting on fake smiles for director Yaga's sake, so the university gets positive publicity, while no one mentions how much effort it took, or that one patient had to die before it became a success?" You sighed. "This all feels like a cruel joke to me."

"Welcome to the world of research," Geto said, taking another drag of his cigarette.

"Why do you even stay in research then?"

Geto paused, the smoke swirling around him. "Why? I wonder that sometimes too."

You watched him for a moment, seeing the tension in his shoulders ease somewhat as he took another drag from his cigarette. Geto, catching your scrutinizing gaze, said, "Don't look at me like that. I'm not the addict you should be worried about."

You turned your gaze away.

After a few seconds of silence, Geto flicked his cigarette away and turned to you. "You want to leave?"

You took a deep breath. "I do," you said, but then shook your head. "But I promised to go to the after-party with my friends, so I'm staying until then."

"An after-party, huh?" He snuffed out the remaining embers of his cigarette.

Upon re-entering the conference hall, the lively chatter and clinking of glasses continued. A waiter passed by, and without much thought, you reached out to take another glass of champagne.

It was your seventh or eighth glass—you had lost count.

But alcohol was the only way you could get through another hour of talking about how brilliantly you did the surgery. Oh, how you hated it. Because you did not do it brilliantly, you did it because you had no other choice. That's a completely different thing.

As you chatted with Geto and a journalist, a waiter passed by with a tray of drinks. Your ninth glass. However, before your fingers could grasp it, a hand from behind swiftly intercepted the glass.

"How many drinks have you had already?"

Of course.

You turned around to find yourself gazing into Satoru's striking blue eyes. Geto, meanwhile, continued to skillfully handle the press. "It's none of your concern," you said to him.

"Don't be stupid. You should seriously stop drinking now, otherwise you will soon lose—"

"Lose what? Control?" you cut him off sharply. "Isn't that a bit hypocritical, coming from you?"

He ran a hand through his hair, the strands now slightly disheveled. "That's not what I'm saying," he replied, his voice softening. "I just... I don't want to see you making decisions you'll regret."

"Like revealing your precious secret?"

His jaw clenched. "Go ahead, if that's what you want. But what I'm concerned about right now is you, not me."

"Who are you trying to fool here, Satoru?"

The sound of a throat being cleared snapped you back to reality. Geto and the journalist had paused their conversation, their attention now squarely on the two of you.

You avoided Satoru's gaze. "Excuse me for a moment," you muttered, hastily excusing yourself towards the bathroom. The door had barely clicked shut when it swung open again, and Satoru slipped inside, locking it behind him.

You spun around. "Satoru, what do you think you're doing?"

"We need to talk."

"I don't want to talk, Satoru. Not now. Not ever!"

"Are you planning to avoid me forever?"

"Seems like a good plan to me!"

Satoru took a step closer. "I know I've put you in an difficult situation, but—"

"Difficult situation?" you said, your voice rising with every word. "Do you even realize how much pressure you've put me under? Fuck, Satoru I had to lead that surgery because you were fucking high! Satoru, you're an addict!"

Satoru looked pained. "I know, and I'm sorry for that. But I have it under control."

"Control?" you scoffed. "You call that control? Satoru, that was the most important day. The only day you were supposed to get your goddamn act together! And you say something about control? You even hear yourself? You can be high on any other fucking day, but not when we operate on a fucking teenager!"

He was silenced.

Your voice cracked as you continued, "Do you even realize how scared I was?"

His brows furrowed slightly as the words left your lips. The intensity in his blue eyes was unsettling, and there was a vulnerability in his gaze that you had never seen before. You weren't used to seeing him like this, and it left you feeling strangely vulnerable yourself.

Still, you pressed further.

"You made me do it. Because you have no control over it. So don't tell me anything about control or that I'm drinking too much when it's just my way of dealing with the damage you've done to me."

"I never meant to hurt you," Satoru said. "But I knew you could do it. I wouldn't have let you lead the surgery if I wasn't sure about that."

"That's not an excuse Satoru. It was wrong and you know it. You left me no choice. I don't know what sick game you're playing with me, but it has to stop."

"Game?" His voice rose. "You think this is a game for me?"

You flinched back slightly, the intensity in his tone catching you off guard.

He took a few steps closer. "You just don't get it, do you?"

"Get what?"

"You consume me!" he blurted out, his voice raw. "I had it under control, I was stable until you came into my life! But now, you're all I can think about!"

"Don't make this about me," you countered sharply.

"That day, I was more nervous than I had ever been in my life," he continued, almost pleadingly, "because I knew that if this surgery failed, it would hurt you—it would kill you, and it would end the research once and for all. And I couldn't bear the thought of you crying again. Not because of me."

"You're just finding excuses."

"Oh, sweetheart, I wish it was. But it's the truth." He closed the gap between you. "God, I can't think clearly when I'm around you! I can't sleep without thinking about you! All there is is the need to be near you, and nothing ever compares to that."

This can't be real.

He could never feel this way about you.

Because someone who would feel that way would never do what he did.

"You're lying." You stepped back, your spine hitting the cold wall behind you. But he was quick to close the distance between you again.

"You're not believing me?" His eyebrow arched in question. In a swift motion, he pulled you close to him, one hand around your waist, the other gripping your jaw between his thumb and fingers. You gasped at the sudden force.

"You need proof?" he said, his words a mere prelude to the searing kiss that followed. Your eyelids fluttered closed as the immediate surge of heat and adrenaline coursed through your body.

He pressed you against the wall, his body molded against yours. You could clearly feel the intensity of his emotions, the raw need in his movements. His frustration, his desire, his confusion—all were laid bare in that kiss.

"You drive me fucking insane," he breathed against your lip. His tongue brushed against your lips, seeking entry, and you eagerly granted it. Without hesitation, his tongue boldly delved into your mouth. Your lips melded against his, causing you to moaned into his mouth.

His hand moved to your hair, grasping it, forcing your head back to deepen the kiss. His mouth covered yours, demanding more, you could barely catch your breath. You were hot all over. He tasted so good. He felt so good.

You were acutely aware of every point where your bodies touched, the pressure of his weight against you, the force of his grip in your hair. His touch was like fire on your skin, igniting a yearning you couldn't contain. Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer still.

You hated him.

You tried to remember that, but all good reason left you as his lips moved over your cheeks, trailing down your jaw to your neck. You found yourself giving in to the sensations, arching your neck to give him better access. His grip on your hair tightened.

Fuck, you hated him.

He lied to you.

You hated him.

Right?

Your fingers clutched at his shirt, desperate for more contact. Satoru's hands slid down your sides to hike up the hem of your dress. In a swift motion, he lifted you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he pressed you against the wall.

The friction of his body between your legs was maddening. You could clearly feel the hard outline of him. Your breathing grew ragged, your back arching further, grinding yourself against his hardness.

"Take them off," you muffled against his lips.

Satoru pulled back, leaving a trail of saliva that briefly connected your parted lips. "What?" he gasped, his half-lidded eyes searching yours.

"Your pants," you panted.

He smirked. Without warning, he spun you around and set you down on the marble counter of the sink. The coolness of the marble beneath you contrasted sharply with the heat of his body pressed against yours.

His lips found yours again, fierce and possessive, as if staking his claim. His hands pushed your dress further up, exposing more of your skin to his touch. He didn't break the kiss as he began to undo his belt, the clinking sound of the buckle sending shivers down your spine.

His hand gripped your hips, his fingers slipping under the silk strap of your underwear. With a deft twist, he wound his fingers in the fabric and pulled them down. He gripped your hips and pulled you close to him.

"Might want to cover your mouth," he whispered against your lips.

Without another word, he positioned himself and pushed all the way inside. You bit down on your lip as you tried to stifle a scream from the sudden stretch, feeling every inch of him fill you up. The sensation was both painful and exhilarating, causing you to tighten around him.

You clung to his neck, your chest pressed firmly against his. "Fuck... Satoru."

"Shh." He placed a hand over your mouth. "Quiet, sweetheart."

He withdrew, teasingly brushing the tip against your entrance as if to savor the feeling of your dampness coating him. Then he slammed back into you again, causing you to accidentally bite down on his hand. He didn't flinch.

Your mind emptied of all thoughts as he drove deeper and harder into you, leaving only the sensation of his thickness filling you completely.

He picked up speed, pumping his hips into yours with increasing urgency. With each deep plunge into your core, you felt yourself being stretched impossibly wide—felt his cock hit bottom again and again.

Every move he made felt so good, too good—as if he knew your body better than you did yourself.

He shifted his stance, lifting one of your legs over his shoulder. You leaned back against the cold marble countertop, letting go of everything else as he changed the angle of his hips, hitting spots that instantly made your legs tremble.

You cursed, the sound dying away under his palm. You cursed yourself for doing this and cursed him for making you feel so fucking good.

Your stomach tightened and you could feel an orgasm building dangerously fast. The sound of the mirror behind you shaking grew louder, echoing through the room. But all you could focus on was the man between your legs, driving into you with a ferocity that left you breathless.

"Turn around," he ordered, having already swung you around halfway. He placed a hand on your back and pushed you down onto the counter. Your heated skin touched the cold marble. You stared at your reflection, taking in your glazed eyes and swollen lips.

Satoru locked briefly eyes with you through the mirror. "Keep quiet, will you?"

You clamped your own hand over your mouth, not trusting yourself to keep quiet. His eyes burned into yours as he continued his thrusts. Slowly this time, driving his cock into you inch by inch until he was buried to the hilt. You moaned into your hand.

"Fuck," he gasps, his eyes closed and brows etched in pain. "You feel so good."

Satoru pulled out and pressed back into you again, your entire being quivered with pleasure. You clenched your hand tightly over your mouth, biting down on your palm to stifle the sounds wanting to escape. Every muscle tightened.

With each thrust, he did pause briefly at the tip of your entrance, teasing your senses with anticipation, before pushing further, burying himself deeper and deeper into your core, filling you completely. It was like he was savoring every second as if this was the first and only time he could fuck you.

Your head hung heavy, your hair cascading down your forehead. Every nerve ending in your body came alive as he hit all the right spots, coaxing you closer and closer to your orgasm.

He quickened his pace again, pounding into you with a frenzied urgency that left you gasping for air. With each hard thrust, his cock pulse inside you, driving himself harder and faster towards release. Your limbs went weak as you surrendered fully to the pleasure.

And then, suddenly, everything exploded into blinding white light, consuming you whole as you cried out, muffled against your palm. Your entire body convulsed in pleasure.

"You're so fucking tight," Satoru hissed as you clenched around him. He followed close behind, his body convulsing as he released inside you, filling you completely. He collapsed against you, panting and shivering as he tried to catch his breath.

You opened your eyes, meeting Satoru's gaze through the mirror. For several moments, neither of you spoke, just gazing into each other's eyes as you felt the slow drip of his cum running down your inner thigh.

You watched the slight rise and fall of his chest as he regained his composure, the muscles in his arms tensing and relaxing subtly. His ragged breath filled the room. It stopped only for a moment as he pressed a tender kiss to your back.

Then, he pulled out of you, causing a faint wince.

"Fuck—This is...," he started, but words seemed to fail him. He ran a hand through his hair and shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear his thoughts. He stepped back, pulled up his pants, and straightened his disheveled suit.

Yeah. Fuck.

In the sudden absence of adrenaline and desire, the reality of what had happened hit you hard.

What you had just done.

With whom you had done it.

Fuck, he was your professor. And even worse, an addict. What were you thinking?

You felt a knot tighten in your stomach.

"Did I hurt you?" Satoru's voice cut through your thoughts.

His question surprised you. As if physical hurt was the worst thing in the chaos of what had happened. Even though his firm grip on your hips would surely leave marks.

"I'm fine." You pushed off the marble counter, hastily pulling your dress down and fixing your tousled hair.

Fuck.

Your mind raced as you watched him.

He adjusted his bow tie, his breathing still labored. His muscles quivered subtly. A thin layer of sweat glistened on his skin, making his white hair cling slightly to his forehead. When his eyes met yours you saw a vulnerability in his gaze that made your heart ache.

You looked away.

Fuck.

"I need a drink," you said, more to yourself than to him. You needed space, time to think, to process. Without waiting for a response, you unlocked the bathroom door and stepped out, leaving Satoru behind. "What? Wait!"

The bright lights and lively chatter of the conference washed over you as you emerged. The noise and the crowd felt like a tidal wave, engulfing you as you navigated through the sea of elegantly dressed attendees.

Spotting a waiter carrying a tray of sparkling glasses, you reached out to take one. But before you could grasp a glass, you felt a firm grip on your wrist. You spun around to find Satoru right behind you, his expression grave.

"I think you've had enough to drink for tonight," he said in a low voice.

"I don't need you to monitor my alcohol intake, Satoru," you snapped, trying to free your wrist from his hold.

As he was about to argue further, your conversation was abruptly halted by the approach of an elegantly poised older woman. Satoru's grip loosened, and he turned towards her with a noticeable shift in demeanor.

"Mother," Satoru greeted her dryly.

Mother?

You stood there, momentarily baffled.

His mother was dressed in an elegant dark blue evening gown that clung to her slender figure, adorned with lace and sequins. Her white hair was immaculately coiffed and cascaded down her back in soft waves.

She had steel-gray eyes that looked like a faded shade of Satoru's striking blue eyes. But there was no warmth to them as her scrutinizing gaze traveled up and down your frame. Her left eyebrow raised slightly. It made your skin crawl.

"Satoru," she greeted him in a tone that matched his.

"I can't say I expected you to show up here," Satoru replied.

She surveyed him with a critical eye, her lips set in a thin line. "Why must you always greet me with such coldness, Satoru? I am here to celebrate your success, after all."

"Yeah, I'm sure that's the reason."

Subtly, Satoru shifted closer to you, almost as if to shield you from her piercing scrutiny. Yet, her focus remained on you. "And who is this? The talented young surgeon I've heard rumors about, or simply another one of my son's fleeting amusements?"

You bristled slightly at her insinuation.

Satoru's jaw clenched visibly. "That's enough."

"Oh, Satoru, don't be shy," she waved a dismissive hand. "She's a pretty one."

„She's talented," Satoru said.

"Oh, even worse," she mused, taking a sip of her wine. "Let's see how long this lasts. But please, Satoru, try to keep the family's dignity."

Satoru's patience was visibly wearing thin. "Shut it, mother."

His mother laughed. "One last thing, darling," she said, turning back to you. Her hand extended towards you. "Your lipstick is slightly smeared. Next time, do try to be more subtle about your affair with my son."

Satoru's reaction was immediate. "Get your hands away from her," he warned sharply, swiftly intercepting his mother's hand before it could reach you.

"Mrs. Gojo, what a pleasant surprise to see you here."

You turned your head to the familiar voice and saw Geto approaching with a courteous smile. Satoru's mother turned to him. "Mr. Geto, always the charmer," she responded, her tone suddenly devoid of all coldness.

Geto flashed a bewitching smile. "I was hoping to have a word with you. Could I steal you away for a moment?"

With a curt nod, Satoru's mother agreed. "Of course. Satoru, we will talk later." She cast one last pointed glance in your direction before allowing Geto to guide her away.

As they walked off, Satoru exhaled deeply, the tension in his shoulders easing. "You're not the only one with a complicated mother."

Somehow, Satoru's addiction was no longer that surprising.

You quickly touched up your lipstick. "She's a bitch."

Satoru gave a wry smile. "She is."

At that moment, your phone buzzed with a new message. You glanced at the screen.

[10:44 PM] Yuta: Hey, we're all at the afterparty. You coming?

Without saying anything, you turned to leave, but Satoru's grip on your wrist stopped you once more. "Where are you going?"

"I'm heading to the afterparty."

Satoru raised an eyebrow. "I thought you weren't much of a party person."

"Well, I might have changed that," you retorted, attempting to pull your wrist free.

"I don't think that's a good idea."

"Too bad you don't get to decide that."

"Don't be stupid. I'll bring you home."

"Stop it, Satoru! You have no right to care about me. I don't want you to care about me! Now let me go!"

You could see the hurt in his eyes at your words. But he released your wrist. "Please, don't do this to me," he murmured, almost pleading.

"Like you forced me to do that surgery?" Your words felt like blades in your throat.

Satoru fell silent.

Without another word, you turned and walked away. You didn't look back.

─── ·✧· ───

The pulsating beats of the club greeted you as you stepped inside. The rhythmic bass of the music pulsed through the floor, vibrating up through your feet. It was overwhelming, yet oddly calming.

Your friends were already there, somewhere amidst the sea of bodies lost in the music. Pushing through the crowd, you scanned the area for familiar faces. The club was packed. Laughter and conversations melded with the music. The sweet scent of alcohol filled the air.

Eventually, you spotted your friends huddled near the bar. As you approached, they waved you over. "There you are!" Maki shouted over the music. "We were starting to think you'd stood us up!"

You forced a smile. "Wouldn't miss this for the world," you replied, trying to sound more upbeat than you felt.

Yuta leaned in, his eyes curious. "How'd the conference go?"

"Nothing special happened. Let's just have fun tonight," you shrugged off his question. You didn't want to delve into the shitty evening you had, not here, not now, not ever.

Turning to the bar, you ordered a drink, something strong and quick. The bartender slid a glass towards you, and you downed it in one smooth motion. The liquid burned its way down your throat, momentarily stealing your breath.

Maki raised an eyebrow. "Wow, going hard tonight?"

"Just catching up," you said.

"So, what's the story? Did Dr. Handsome finally realize he's madly in love with you? Come on, there's gotta be some steamy OR drama you're hiding from us."

Her words slurred just a bit. She clearly had a few drinks already.

"You're just imagining things, Maki."

"Well, can you blame me?" Maki laughed. "Every time you two are in the same room, it's like watching a drama unfold. The tension, the glances—come on, spill it!"

Toge nodded in agreement.

You rolled your eyes. "Trust me, it's far from that."

Yuta jumped in. "Come on Maki, don't push her. We're here to have fun, remember?"

Maki punched Yuta's arm. "Oh, like you're not dying to know too!"

The group laughed, and for a moment, you allowed yourself to be swept up in their infectious energy. You all moved to the dance floor, where the pulsing rhythm of the club's music enveloped you completely. The bass reverberated through your body.

Surrounded by the crowd, you found yourself moving to the beat. You clearly felt the effects of the alcohol, a pleasant buzz that dulled your worries. But here, in the midst of a sea of bodies, those worries felt distant, as if they belonged to another life.

It allowed you to lose yourself, to forget, if only for a while. The heat of the crowd, the scent of sweat and perfume, the sensation of being surrounded yet utterly alone in your thoughts—it was intoxicating.

Your friends were nearby, also lost in the moment. Maki's laughter rang out, clear and carefree, cutting through the music. Yuta performed a series of hilariously exaggerated dance moves.

At one point, he attempted a robot dance, his limbs moving in jerky, mechanical motions that made everyone burst out laughing. Toge even joined in and added his own twist to the robot dance.

You laughed. You laughed so hard like you haven't in a long time, the stress and worries of the day momentarily forgotten. And you were so grateful to them, even if they didn't know what was going on.

You ordered a round of shots for the group. Coming back to your friends group, you all gathered in a small circle, holding up the small glasses.

"To friendship and unforgettable nights!" Maki toasted.

The shots went down with a burning kick.

As the night continued in a whirlwind of music and laughter, you noticed a young man weaving his way through the crowd towards you.

He had a confident stride, a slight smile playing on his lips. In his hands, he carried two shots. You recognized him as a fellow medical student from the university, though his name escaped you in the moment.

"Hey there," he greeted, offering you one of the shots. "Thought you might need a refill."

You accepted the shot with a smile. "Thanks, stranger."

He chuckled. "Well, we're not exactly strangers. I've seen you around university. Your beauty is pretty hard to miss."

"You have a way with words, don't you?"

"Just speaking the truth," he replied smoothly, raising his glass for a toast. "To a good night."

Glasses clinked, and you both downed the shots, the liquid heat spreading a pleasant warmth through you.

The conversation flowed effortlessly, his charm and easygoing nature making it easy to talk. He asked about your interests outside of medicine, and you found yourself sharing bits and pieces about your life against the backdrop of the party's rhythmic music.

Every so often, your eyes drifted to your friends, ensuring they were still within sight. They seemed to be enjoying themselves, occasionally glancing over to check on you.

As the song changed, the young man extended his hand. "How about we take this conversation to the dance floor?"

You hesitated for a moment, a brief image of Satoru flashed through your mind, but you quickly dismissed it, drowning out any thoughts of him. "Sure, why not?" you said with a smile, as he dragged you away from your friends.

The music and the rhythm of the dance floor were momentarily exhilarating, but as you moved to the beat, an unsettling sensation began to take hold. The lights of the club began to blur, and the pulsing music seemed muffled, as if you were underwater.

A wave of nausea swept over you, and your surroundings began to feel surreal and disconnected.

He leaned in closer, placing a hand on your waist. "You want to go outside?"

You flinched slightly. His touch felt awful. You didn't want him to touch you.

Not him.

"No, I'm... I'm going to the bathroom real quick." Your voice sounded alarmingly faint and distant to yourself.

"Should I come with you?"

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog that seemed to envelop your thoughts.

Somehow it became hard to push through the crowd. Your legs barely moved at your command. Everything felt muffled. As if the sounds and lights around you weren't really reaching you anymore.

Stumbling slightly, you made your way toward the exit instead to the bathroom, each step feeling heavier than the last. Once outside, the cool night air hit you, but it did little to ease your spinning head.

The world around you seemed to tilt and sway, the bright lights of the club's exterior sign blurring into streaks of color. You leaned against the building for support, trying to steady yourself.

This is not normal.

Something was very wrong.

Could it have been the drink?

Fuck.

Phone.

Where was your phone?

You needed to call someone.

You fumbled for your phone, wanting to call your friends who were still inside the club. Your fingers felt clumsy and uncoordinated as you tried to unlock the screen, the icons dancing before your eyes.

After several failed attempts, you finally managed to dial Maki's number. You pressed the phone to your ear, each ring echoing distantly, as if coming from far away. "Come on, Maki, please pick up," you whispered under your breath.

Maki didn't answer.

Yuta didn't answer either.

Neither did Toge.

The loud music in the club probably drowned out the sound of their phone.

Fuck.

Panic set in. You knew you couldn't go back into the club in your current state, not with the risk of running into that guy again who probably put something in your drink.

You scrolled through your contacts with trembling hands, your vision swimming. Then, without a second thought, you dialed a number. The phone barely had time to ring before he answered.

You let out a shaky breath, not sure what to say only his name escaped your lips in a whisper, "Satoru..."

That was all he needed to hear.

All he ever needed to hear.

"Where are you?" He said without missing a beat.

"I'm outside the club... I think someone drugged my drink," you stammered, struggling to keep your thoughts coherent. "Everything's spinning, I can't..."

"Stay right there. I'm coming," Satoru cut in. "Don't move, and tell me exactly where you are."

You gave him the best description you could manage of your location, your words slurring and overlapping as the world around you spun out of control. Satoru continued to talk to over the phone, telling you to hang on, that he was on his way, but his voice seemed to fade in and out.

Time seemed to lose its meaning.

The moments stretched on, each one feeling longer than the last. You were vaguely aware of voices and the sounds of the city around you, but they felt distant.

Then, abruptly, a familiar presence cut through the fog.

Without saying anything, Satoru's arms gently lifted you from the ground. He held you close, the warmth of his body a soothing presence as he carried you towards his car. The world seemed to spin and blur around you. Clinging to his neck, you managed a faint whisper, "Satoru..."

"It's okay, you're safe now," he assured you in a calm voice.

Reaching his car, Satoru settled you into the passenger seat of his car, securing the seatbelt around you. Sliding into the driver's seat, he started the engine. You felt his car begin to move. His hand rested on your thigh.

You twisted uncomfortably in the seat, fighting the nausea that threatened to overwhelm you.

"Hang on, we're almost there," Satoru said.

The drive felt surreal, the city lights passing by in a dreamlike blur. When the car finally came to a stop, you realized that you weren't at your apartment. "Where are we?"

"We're at my place," Satoru unbuckled his seatbelt. "You think I would leave you alone after you got drugged?"

"No, I'm fine," you protested weakly, though your body betrayed you with its unsteadiness. Satoru was already at your side, lifting you into his arms once again with gentle care. As he carried you from the car to his apartment, your head spun, and your protests faltered. "I'm fine, Satoru, I really..."

He glanced down at you. "Don't be stupid."

You wanted to argue more, but the dizziness made it hard to focus. Reluctantly, you allowed him to carry you inside. Maybe, even let yourself fall more into his embrace.

Once inside, Satoru carefully set you down on the couch in his living room. In the next second, he was kneeling in front of you and removed your heels. You flinched slightly at the touch of his hands on your ankles.

"You really don't have to do this—"

"Stop it, already. And let me take care of you," he replied, his tone leaving no room for argument.

You sighed and lay back on the couch, your body feeling strangely heavy.

"Wait a second," he then said and went into his kitchen. You rolled over to your side on the couch, still everything spun. You reached for a cushion and laid your head on it, legs curling up to your chest. You tried your best to not throw up on his expensive looking furniture.

Your eyes wandered around Satoru's apartment.

The open living area was spacious and airy, with large windows that let in the soft glow of the city lights. The walls were adorned with a piece of art, abstract in design, with bold strokes and vibrant colors that perhaps cost as much as your entire university tuition.

Your gaze drifted to a bookshelf lined with medical books and journals. On one shelf were several trophies lined up, each one gleaming under the soft lighting. As you focused on them, it became clear that they were from basketball matches.

Then Satoru returned with a glass of water. "I didn't realize you were that good at basketball," you said, trying to distract yourself from the nausea.

Satoru followed your gaze and a slight smile crossed his face. "Yeah, I was not that bad."

He sat down on the couch beside you, and handed you the water. "This should help," he said revealing a few pills in his other hands.

"What are these?" you asked as you pushed yourself up a bit.

"They help you get off whatever it is in your bloodline."

Hm.

He must know, right?

Was it wrong to think that you were glad to know someone who was an addict when you were being drugged yourself?

Anyway, you took the glass of water and swallowed the pills.

Satoru watched you for a moment, before standing up and walking over to the kitchen again. As he returned, he had donned a pair of gloves and was carrying a syringe.

"Wait, what's that for?" you asked, eyeing the syringe.

"Hold out your arm to me," Satoru ordered as he sat down beside you. "I want to take a blood sample and run some tests."

God, always the doctor.

Reluctantly, you extended your arm.

Satoru's touch was gentle as he skillfully found a vein and drew a small sample of blood. "There, all done," he said, applying a small bandage to the puncture site. "I'll get this to the lab first thing in the morning."

Satoru tore off the gloves. "How are you feeling?"

"The room's not spinning as much," you said. "Thank you."

He reached out, gently cupping your face with one hand, his thumb softly tracing your cheek. "Did you see who gave you the drink?"

"I don't remember his name... but he's from university. I've seen him around."

His expression hardened, his hand dropping away from your face. You watched as Satoru stood, the frustration evident in his movements. He began to loosen the bow tie of his suit he still wore.

"You're staying here tonight," he stated.

"I'm not sure if—"

"You're staying, no arguments," he cut in firmly.

You shut your mouth.

He took off his suit jacket and threw it over a chair. Rolling up the sleeves of his shirt, he suggested, "You can borrow something to wear from my wardrobe," nodding towards a door across the room.

Yeah.

You wanted nothing more than to finally get rid of that dress.

It felt filthy.

Your whole body felt filthy.

You stood, but your weakened form betrayed you once more. Suddenly off-balance, you almost fell, but Satoru was there in an instant. He quickly wrapped his arm around you.

You found yourself unexpectedly close to him. His lips hovered just an inch from yours. "You need help?"

"I'm—" you started, but the words caught in your throat as his gaze locked onto yours. "I'm fine."

For a moment, time seemed to stand still. Your lips lingered there, barely touching.

Slowly, he loosened his hold on you. "Call me if you need anything."

With weak legs, you made your way to his bedroom. The moonlight streamed through the windows, casting a serene glow across the room. The bedroom was spacious with a large, comfortable looking bed dominating the space.

The room smelled like him.

You approached his wardrobe, which was open and neatly organized. As you browsed through his clothes, you couldn't help but notice that everything, from his shirts to his trousers, seemed to be expensive, each piece perfectly tailored.

It sure had its benefits when you were one of the most famous neurosurgeons.

Feeling a bit out of place among such expensive pieces, you reached for a pair of sweatpants and a soft cotton shirt. They were obviously his, likely to be oversized on you, but you couldn't help but notice his familiar scent lingering on them.

You threw the cloths on his bed and tried to change out of your dress. Your hands fumbled with the zipper at the back of your dress. You twisted and turned, trying to reach it, but it was no use. The zipper remained stubbornly just out of reach.

You considered just ripping it off for a second.

But then you took a deep breath.

"Satoru?" you called out.

After a brief pause, you heard his footsteps approaching the bedroom. You hadn't bothered to close the door. He appeared in the doorway, leaning casually against the frame. His eyes held a hint of amusement as he observed your struggle.

"It's this zipper... I can't get it," you said, turning to show him the back of your dress.

Satoru moved closer. "You know, that's a pretty lame excuse to get me into the bedroom." You felt a shiver run down your spine as his breath lightly brushed against your neck. Gently, he gathered your hair and swept it over your shoulder, exposing the length of your back.

"Still, you're here," you whispered as he reached for the zipper and slowly pulled it down. Cold air hit your now exposed back.

"I'll always be there when you need me."

You inhaled sharply as you felt the dress loosen around you.

Satoru remained close to you. His warm hands reached up, brushing over your arms up to your shoulders. His fingers traced the thin straps of your dress, lingering just a moment too long, as if contemplating if he should slip them off your shoulders or not.

You didn't want him to slip them off.

Or not?

Or what was it you wanted?

In that moment, time seemed to pause. You both stood there, caught in a shared suspension, the room around you bathed in soft moonlight that filtered through the windows. The silence only broken by the sound of your heavy breathing.

"You should get some rest," he murmured. "We can talk tomorrow."

No you didn't want to talk about it.

You didn't want to admit it.

You took a deep breath.

"I'm fine," you countered in a whisper. "I don't need to rest."

His lips drew nearer, and he placed tender kisses along your shoulder, igniting a trail of warmth that seemed to awaken every nerve in your body. His hands found your hips, anchoring you firmly to him.

"You should. It's been a long nigh."

Your heartbeat quickened. "Don't try to tell me what I need."

Satoru sighed. His lips continued their exploration, moving up your neck with a softness that belied his restraint. "Don't make this so hard," he murmured. "I'm trying to do the right thing here."

"It didn't seem to bother you too much in the bathroom earlier."

You turned around to face him. Satoru's hands found their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer still until you were pressed tightly against him.

"I know," he said, his voice strained. "And I'm sorry for that, we shouldn't have—"

"Stop, Satoru," you interrupted. "I don't want your apologies."

He paused.

You swallowed hard. "I want you to make me forget this fucked up day."

"Not like this. You're drunk and also probably drugged," he said, but you could almost see his resolve wavering as he held you close, the contours of your bodies molding perfectly together.

You exhaled softly, your gaze fixed on his lip. "I don't care."

Because you really didn't.

You needed him right now.

Needed the feeling of his skin on yours.

You knew it was wrong—using him like this was wrong, but you didn't care. Perhaps it was the drugs in your bloodline or the alcohol but you didn't care. You wanted him, craved the escape he—and only he—could offer you.

Satoru was close, so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath mingling with yours. The struggle in his eyes made it clear that he was losing whatever battle the rational side of him was waging. So, you waited—waited for him to lose against his self control.

"I get it, you're hurt. But this won't give you what you need and I won't use you like that."

The irony wasn't lost on you. Weren't you the one who was about to use him?

"Maybe I want you to use me?"

"God, what are you saying?" He almost trembled under the strain it took him to hold back, as his hand reached up to grasp the nape of your neck. "You'll regret his tomorrow. You'll hate me for this," he breathed out, pained.

"Then let me regret it, Satoru." Your fingers reaching up to slowly unbutton his shirt. His mouth hovered over yours, his lips grazing yours in a torturous almost-kiss, yet still maintaining that maddening distance.

"I don't care," you breathed, continuing to slowly unbutton his shirt.

As the last button was undone, the fabric of Satoru's shirt parted, revealing the well-defined muscles of his chest. Your fingertips grazed his skin, feeling the rapid beat of his heart beneath your touch. Satoru inhaled sharply.

"Listen, we can pretend what happened earlier in that bathroom was just a stupid mistake. I'm fine with that." His gaze dropped to your lips. "But we can't keep making the same 'mistake' and deny what's happening. If we cross that line again, it changes everything."

"I know. But I don't care. I can't...I need you."

With that, the last restraint he held shattered.

Satoru's lips finally found yours, igniting an immediate fire within you.

His mouth moved hungrily against yours, deep and consuming. He didn't give you a second to catch your breath, but you didn't care. You didn't need air when you had him.

You melted under his touch, surrendering completely. Your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, deepening the kiss even further. The heat of the moment consumed you, and all you could think of was him, the way he tasted, the way he felt, the way he made your heart race.

The world around you faded away.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to undress you. "Tell me to stop," he said as his kisses trailed from your lips down to your neck. You closed your eyes, moaning softly at the way his touch made you feel alive.

You shook your head. "I want you."

"Please, tell me to stop," he said again, even as he slipped his shirt off from his shoulders, revealing a landscape of defined muscles across his shoulders, neck, and abdomen. His hands brushed over your body, taking in the curve of your hip bones and the smoothness of your skin.

In that moment, everything that had held you back—the fear, the hurt, the lies—crumbled into insignificance. There was only the undeniable truth of what you felt for each other, a connection that was as intense as it was complicated.

"I'm yours, Satoru," you whispered. "All yours. Do whatever you want to me."

He paused, locking eyes with you. "Is that what you want? What you need?"

Yes. A thousand times, yes.

Somehow this man in from of you had the power to let you forget every rational thought. And somehow you needed this right now—needed him to make you forget all the hurt, he partly is the reason for but still—you wanted nothing more than to be his in this very moment.

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump forming in your throat.

"Then I'll take care of you."

Without breaking contact, Satoru swept one arm beneath your ass while grasping your waist with the other. Your legs wrapped around him as he lifted you effortlessly off the ground. He carried you to the bed, before laying you down.

Your back pressed firmly against the mattress as Satoru followed, covering you completely. He leaned down and captured your lips in a slow, lingering kiss. His body molded perfectly to yours, as you traced your fingertips across the expanse of his exposed chest and toned abs.

Satoru pushed your thighs apart, spreading your legs wider. His finger wandered under the hem of your underwear, tracing torturous lines over your skin. You arched your back upward, silently begging for his touch.

He obliged, pushing your underwear aside and sliding one finger inside you. "Is that what you need?"

You moaned softly, as he delved further into your core. His movements were slow and deliberate, your breathing quickened, becoming shallow and rapid. "Yes...yes, please..." You arched your back, urging him further.

His other hand slid beneath you, cupping your hip bone firmly. The sensation of his finger moving within you sent shivers coursing through your veins, igniting an intense fire deep in your core. You clutched at his hair. "More, Satoru."

His response was immediate. He slipped another finger inside you, stretching you wider. The sensation was overwhelming, leaving you helpless in his grasp.

Before long, his mouth met yours once again, taking control of the kiss as his thumb brushed gently against your clit. With every stroke of his fingers and flick of his thumb, you felt yourself growing increasingly close to the edge.

"Tell me exactly what you want me to do to you, sweetheart," Satoru muttered against your lips as his fingers drove deep into you, burying themselves to the limit. Your grip on his hair tightened as you felt him hitting your core.

The sound of your breathless moans filled the room as Satoru's skilled hands worked their magic on your body, making you yearn for more. "You know what I want, Satoru...don't make me beg for it."

Satoru's lips trailed down your jawline and towards your neck. "Bit unfair, don't you think?" His teeth grazed your sensitive flesh, sending shivers down your spine as his finger continued to thrust into you. "Wanting me to fuck you, but not letting me tease you a bit about it?"

As he made his way further down your body, you closed your eyes, surrendering yourself entirely to the feeling of him inside you. He trailed kisses all over your body until he reached your parted legs, planting featherlight kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

He smiled up at you, his dark eyes sparkling with wicked intent. "But don't worry, you don't have to say anything, I know exactly what you need." He positioned himself firmly between your legs. His hot breath against your clit, making you quiver with anticipation.

He pulled his fingers out of you briefly to pull down your underwear. Then, without warning, he plunged his tongue into your core, sending you reeling with pleasure. Each stroke of his tongue sent electric sparks shooting straight to your core. Moaning loudly, you writhing beneath him, urging him onward.

He delved deeper, suckling hungrily at your clit, his tongue leveling deeper into you. "Oh God, yes...please don't stop," you panted, gripping his hair tightly as he was buried between your legs.

"God, you taste so good." He pulled back his tongue, licking over your clit and inserting his two fingers again, pumping them vigorously in and out of you. "Can you take on more for me?"

You gasped as he pushed yet another finger into you, stretching you impossibly wide. But you couldn't help but crave more—more of the intense sensations coursing through every inch of your being.

His lips closed around your clit once more. He sucked hungrily, flicking his tongue against you as he curled his fingers inside you, hitting all the right spots in a way that left you gasping for breath. You tightened your grip on his hair. It must have hurt. But he didn't care.

With each passing second, your release drew nearer. He could feel it. He quickened his pace, pushing deeper and harder into you. "Come for me, sweetheart."

And then, without warning, it hit you. You cried out, your body shaking with the force of it all as he continued to suckle and thrust simultaneously, drawing out every last ounce of pleasure from your quivering frame.

"Stop, Satoru..." you panted as he continued to devour your oversensitive core with his mouth. Your legs trembled. It was too much—far too much. "Fuck, stop."

He pulled away from you and moved upwards. His lips brushed softly against yours, making you taste your own arousal. "Don't act like you can't take it," he murmured against your lips. "Wasn't that what you wanted?"

Your breath hitched as his eyes suddenly darkened. "You wanted me to make you forget about your fucked up day, remember?"

He pulled back, kneeling before you as he zipped open his pants and pushed them down along with his boxers, exposing his cock—pre-cum already leaking from the tip.

He lowered himself onto you again, pressing his erection against you. "You should be really careful of what you're asking for," he whispered into your ear.

Your heart skipped a beat as his hand found your throat, his grip tight. Yet, you couldn't help but crave more, wanting to surrender completely to his will. "Satoru, just...do me already," you gasped as his pressure on your throat increased.

He smirked. He knew exactly how much power he had over you.

And he liked it.

"You're so damn hot when you beg for more," he whispered against your lips.

Without warning, he surged forward, burying himself deep inside you, savoring each inch as you gasped and arched your back. You bit down on your lower lip, stifling a scream as he filled you completely, every inch of his length stretching you wide.

"Don't hold back, I want to hear you scream my name," he said as he began to move. His movements were rough and unforgiving, pounding into you relentlessly. You cried out his name, writhing underneath him as he took you without mercy.

You clawed at his shoulders, pulling him closer, begging for more. But he was in control here, and he loved the way you responded so eagerly to his every move. He paused suddenly, pulling almost all the way out before plunging back in.

Tears prickling at the corners of your eyes as his cock slid back in, filling you once more, sending shivers through your entire body. Then, he picked up pace, faster now, harder. Your walls tightened around him as he pounded deeper and deeper, making you feel alive in ways you never thought possible.

You clung to his shoulder blades, your fingers digging into his skin, leaving marks as he thrust into you. His eyes locked onto yours, watching as pleasure etched itself across your features. He leaned forward, bracing himself above you, and delivered another hard thrust, eliciting a sharp gasp from your lips.

Suddenly, he pulled out, flipping you over onto your stomach. Before you even had time to process what was happening, he pressed you face-down into the bed, grabbed your arms and crossed them behind your back, pinning you firmly in place.

Your moans turned into cries as he hitched your hips higher, burying himself even deeper inside of you from this angle, his hardness stretching you wide. It wasn't gentle anymore, far from it. He was rough, almost cruel, pushing past boundaries until you weren't sure if you could bear it any longer.

And yet you couldn't get enough.

You closed your eyes, burying your head into the sheets. He slammed into you again and again, each time he hit bottom. Your body quivered beneath him, and you let out a series of whimpers and gasps as he pushed you closer to the edge.

He tightened his grip on your wrists, pulling you closer against him. His breathing grew ragged as he lost himself in the sensation.

You wanted nothing more of him than to lose himself.

As he buried himself deep within you once more, you felt yourself shattering. Every muscle in your body convulsed, your cries muffled by the sheets beneath you. You shuddered violently, writhing underneath his firm grip as your orgasm threatened to consume you whole.

His rhythm faltered slightly as he felt you clench around him before picking up the pace again, and soon after, he followed you over the edge. He came inside of you, filling you whole with a sharp hiss of pain.

Satoru released the grip on your wrist and collapsed over you, resting himself on his arms. He remained motionless for a moment, both of you catching your breath. You lifted your head off the sheets, swallowing hard as the sensation lingered.

He leaned down, his breath warm on your back. His tongue ran along the curve of your spine, savoring the salty taste of your skin. "Feeling better now, sweetheart?" he asked, as his cum dripped onto the sheets.

Turning your head, you caught his eye. His gaze held yours, a sly smile on his lips.

You didn't know what to say—what to think even.

There was just this man who drove you absolutely insane—your professor, your research partner, your mentor's best friend, and...

...an addict.

"You have to get clean."

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: thank you for the wait dears, this chapter did turn out super long. also two smut scenes haha. i actually don't really enjoy writing these and it takes me forever but somehow i wrote two now... i blame it on ovulation. also i'm not too happy with the second smut scene but i edited it like three times already and can't seem to get it right, so i'm just posting it now. anyway thank you for reading, feel free to leave your thoughts! :)

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

#gojo saturo #saturo gojo x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojo x you #gojo x female reader #jjk x reader #gojo satoru smut #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut

490 notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 4 months

Text

Lookism: "No thank you! I have a partner!"

Silly. G/N. Y'all probably seen the meme. Your partner comes home drunk and doesn't recognise you.

Gun Park, Ryuhei Kuroda, Goo Kim, DG, Vin Jin, Jake Kim, Samuel Seo

Loud scratching and thumps at your front door wakes you. You wonder whether to arm yourself with a frying pan and then you hear your boyfriend muttering slurred profanities.

A loud bang reverberates through your home as he stumbles, drunk, through the door.

With a sigh, you crawl out of bed to check the state they're in.

Gun gazes at you, bleary-eyed and half focused. Slightly swaying on his feet, a very unusual sight of someone usually in full control of their body.

Then something clicks in his brain, eyes hardening just before he looks away. He tells you, tone disinterested, that he's a taken man.

"I don't know how I ended up here, but don't get the wrong idea."

He turns around, exits his own living room, exits his own home, and sleeps outside the apartment in the hallway instead.

"Yeah you're pretty cute," Ryuhei mumbles, words slurring together, "But my partner is cuter."

He pulls his phone out, drops it twice, unlocks it on the third attempt and shows you a picture - one that you have seen, actually one that you took of him smooching you on the cheek.

"Aren't they cute?" He beams, utterly besotted. "Let me just crash here," he says as he collapses on the sofa. "If you touch me I'll scream."

"Get your hands off me!" Goo screeches, slapping you away as you try to undress him and get him ready for bed. "My my, you're forward aren't you?"

Goo leans forward and gives you a smile halfway between utterly charming and complete sleazeball.

Then, all bravado evaporates and he sighs.

"Oh sweetheart you would be just my type, but," he pushes you off the bed, "I'm taken and very happy about it."

He lies down, burritoing himself and turning his back to you. "You can make your own way out."

Vin fiddles with his sunglasses, peering approvingly at you.

Even in his drunken haze he can tell that damn, you're fine. Except. He is also lucid enough to realise he is not looking respectfully anymore and he thinks of you, his ride or die, and his face completely changes.

He frowns and asks you what the hell you are looking at. That you have no chance. He has a partner at home that is much hotter, much better, thank you very much and yeah he's an asshole but he's not going to cheat so back the fuck off.

You roll your eyes, hackles would have been much higher if he wasn't actually being sweet in his own way.

DG takes a moment to process the situation. And when he does, he gets it completely wrong.

He plasters on his k-pop smile. The one reserved for winning over fans, interviewers and for his insincere apology videos.

"Did you want an autograph?" He pulls out a photocard from his inner pocket and a pen (and wow, you did not realise he carried a stack of his photos. You are not going to let him live this down) and scribbles his signature that comes with some love hearts and sparkles and passes it over to you.

"Here you go," he holds it out to you in both hands, not before mumbling under his breath, "You're cute but shit if you turn into another stalker..."

Jake is already asleep on the sofa by the time you pad out, which must be some super power in itself.

"Wake up," You give his shoulder a shake. He frowns, then cracks one eye open. "Come to bed."

He grunts something indecipherable and attempts to roll his oversized frame on your undersized sofa.

"Jake, cmon."

You start to drag him to your bedroom, your touch finally waking something inside and he bolts upright, removing your hands firmly off him.

"I have a partner." He tells you with no room for any misinterpretation. "But," he scratches absentmindedly at his stomach, "Do you have any food?"

Samuel does as he's told. Obediently removing his trousers, and unbuttoning his shirt, taking it off-

(Truly, you had no ulterior motive, you just wanted to remove the stink of alcohol.)

When, maybe for the first time in his life, he is afflicted with modesty and a startling clarity.

He yanks his shirt back on and pulls his trousers on with surprisingly sober efficiency.

"Absolutely not," he glowers at you, "This is not happening. I'm taken."

#lookism x reader #lookism #gun park x reader #ryuhei kuroda x reader #ryuhei x reader #goo kim x reader #vin jin x reader #dg x reader #james lee x reader #jake kim x reader #samuel seo x reader #gun park #ryuhei kuroda #goo kim #vin jin #diego kang #jake kim #samuel seo #wannaeatramyeon

1K notes · View notes

taetr4ck · 2 months

Text

LOVE IN SCRIBBLES — ten things seo changbin writes in his love letters for you

seo changbin x reader, no warnings — fluff, comfort. taglist form.

a/n : i almost forgot abt this series omg... i missed writing this it makes me insane

bang chan / minho / changbin / hyunjin / jisung / felix / seungmin / jeongin

i. I saw the sky today. It's beautiful. It actually reminded me of you — just like how you always bring peace when my heart is full of uncertainty. Is that your superpower, yeobo?

ii. Is it possible for a home to be a person rather than a place?

iii. Everything is going to be okay, jagiya. You can’t blame yourself for something you can’t control.

iv. We will figure this out, okay? Just like we always have.

v. Together, we will create a home that is soft and warm, like basking in the grassland under the gentle glow of sunlight. We will always live for 5 am sunrises and 5 pm sunsets. I will keep you safe and I am always yours to keep. There will be no fear, hurt, and anxiety.

vi. I will never forget the day you held my hand for the first time. You could have left me, but you chose to take my hands and place them in your coat pocket. You gave me love that breathed life into my chilly fingers, rubbed them gently, and held them tight, promising to never let go.

vii. My favorite feeling in the world is seeing you first thing in the morning, with messy hair and groggy eyes — the way you hold my arm lazily and pull me into yours. The way your breath caresses against my skin, and the way our bodies bathe in the soft, golden hues of morning sunlight. I love everything you do. My favorite feeling is you.

viii. Loving you is as easy as breathing.

ix. I love you. I love the messy hair and the bags under your eyes every time you can’t stop working. I love the little messes and chaos of you. I love your cheeky smile and your bubbly laugh that can brighten the room in an instant. I love the way you sigh when you're tired and the way you sing along to the radio on a Sunday morning. It's all lovable. It feels good to love you.

x. Maybe I was born just so I could meet you – and dedicate everything to you, perhaps.

taglist : @agi-ppangx @bluethemoments @ashracha @skzstarnet @straykidsland @k-labels

⋆ taetr4ck, est may 2023. / requests open

243 notes · View notes

itstheghostofmypast · 3 months

Text

Condensed Hearts

Jeong Yunho x (f)Reader

Summary: Sometimes you don't need a good cry, you just need a boy with a golden heart and horrible timing for jokes.

Genre: Hurt/Comfort Fluff

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1k

Est. Read Time: 5 min

Rating: SFW

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Banner: @cafekitsune

A/N: No, bc why did this entire day comprise of nonsense and frustration.

A tap on the window caught her attention, turning her head away and sniffing she wiped her face with the back of her sleeve in an ungraceful manner, before turning back to stare at the person who interrupted her little session through swollen eyes

Of course, it was him.

Standing there in all his patient glory with a gentle smile, gesturing for her to lower the window, only for his heart to crack at the quick shake of her head, indicating a no. He couldn't help but let his smile drop, sighing, his shoulders visibly dropping as he nodded, letting her have her way. Nodding at her one more time he walked away, much to her disappointment, well technically she did ask him to leave so naturally he would respect her wishes, but maybe the selfish part of her did not want him to- no, the petty little girl in her wanted to stay or perhaps she was so used to him pampering her that she thought he'd stay. Though this was on her, she'd usually run off to hide in places and cry in solitude, refusing to let him see her in this state, claiming how he would no longer love her if he saw how miserable she was- nothing like her golden boy.

Regardless of the inner monologue, she felt another wave of fresh hot tears cascade down her cheeks, fingers gripped onto the steering wheel tighter as she pressed her forehead against it. The colder the car got the more numb she felt, time was no longer a concept, not a friend nor a foe, it just didn't exist within these premises, leaving her and her aching heart to succumb to the cruelty of lady fate.

She wasn't sure how long she was in there for, but the pestering tap had her head whipping in its direction, glaring at him- her self-pity now morphed into anger, upset about him not staying there for her- was it healthy? Probably not, but nor was bottling up and letting loose once every two to three months, but hey, he knew this before they even became official.

Shaking his head at her disapproving look he leaned closer to the glass window before exhaling on it, watching his warm breath condense and turn into a blank canvas.

What on earth, frowning at how he obscured the view, about to lower the window, she stopped when he began to draw?

Honestly, he had never left, only went to stand against the trunk of the car, leaning against it and he looked around, giving her a few moments- though when the minutes turned into a full-blown hour he changed his mind, an idea popping up in his head as he took two long strides to the driver's door.

Now, with his finger, he was busy drawing a big ol'heart. Once satisfied with the size he began to draw two stickmen- well one man and one woman, mind you, he knows how to treat his lady well- holding their little stick figure hands, standing in the centre of the heart.

Moving back a bit he admired his work, even through the obscured glass he could see her bite her lip, holding back her smile, but he was sure he cracked her shell of misery after she let out a chuckle at the addition to his glass drawing, the words "You and me" scribbled at this top.

Giving a moment for her to digest the whole scene he moved back, a smile graced his features when the door unlocked and opened, as she slowly got out of the car, shivering at the change of temperature- curse winter.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." he sighed, finally moving closer to her as he wrapped his arms around her frame, pulling her flush against him, "How bad?" he asked, slowly rocking them back and forth as he kissed the crown of her head.

"Superbad." came a muffled voice, he just sighed in response, feeling her hug him tighter. There was silence for a moment before he felt her tremble against him, his grip on her tightening as he cleared his throat, "If you're gonna cry at least do it while having icecrea-"

With great force she was shoved away, stumbling back he raised his hands in surrender, "Bad joke, bad joke, bad joke-"

"LISTEN YOU LANKY GIANT- Do you know how shitty of a day I had?"

"Well, considering you came home early, skipped classes and work and stayed in the car crying till midnight, I'd go with super bad," he mumbled, eying her up and down, man, he thought he'd cracked the code this time, with the cute drawing and all.

"Then Jeong Yunho, why do you think all I need is icecream when I clearly need a whole warm meal with my significant other who can't read the room." sighing she rubbed her face, before locking the car and walking away, leaving him standing there to process her words. It wasn't until she had reached the entrance of their apartment complex when she called him out, "Well, are you coming or not?"

Instantly smiling at her, he skipped his way to her, stopping next to her and looking down at her, as she met his cheeky smile, staring up at him with her own small frown, though when she laced her cold fingers with his warmer ones his heart leapt with joy. Walking into the building as he swung their arms back and forth like a little boy.

"Thank you for telling me where you were this time," he whispered as the elevator door closed, afraid someone would hear them, even though it was just the two of them, giving her hand a gentle squeeze.

"Thank you for waiting." she mumbled, leaning, "help me with reverse."

"Hmmmm?" he teased, leaning closer, earning a whine, "What was that??? I couldn't hear you, love."

Shoving him away she stomped out, "You're insufferable".

His laugh echoed across the corridor, running up to her as he grabbed her from behind, hugging her close, "Don't worry, I'll help you with your reverse...I'll help you with whatever you want." planting a chaste kiss on her cheek he moved to let her in first, smiling as he locked the door, listening to her complain and whine about her day. This was much better than her closing off, this was much better than her crying in solitude, this made him feel valued and trusted enough for her to let her vulnerability show, assuring him that he was the stickman to her stickwoman.

Taglist: @edenesth @mlysalt @spooo00oky @cereal-simp @yessa-vie @marsvillee

272 notes · View notes

neopuppy · 2 years

Text

Sleep Therapy (M)

Pairing. demon Jaemin x femaler reader

Genre. That Boys Is A Monster AU, life after Be There For You, explicit smut, M/F, dark fic

Warnings. heavy dubcon/noncon elements(don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable. I’m serious. thanks.), somnophilia, breeding, rough and unprotected sex, impreg kink, demon lore, camera use, praise, degradation, obsessive behavior

WC. 6.6(6)k

Now Playing. Slept So Long/Jay Gordon

‘Just wanted to watch you sleep. Wanted to be part of your dreams.’

It’s been hours.

It’s been days.

It’s been weeks.

Herbal teas, over the counter Melatonin, even prescribed sleep medication that could knock out a small child for days scattered your living room table; piled up only to mock you.

Useless, all of it completely useless as you enter another night of restless sleep.

Debilitated by lack of rest has forced you to take a sabbatical from work, per the suggestion of your regular physician. One week at the hospital under careful watch had you in tears every morning, pleading for something to help you. Anything.

It was more than the bags formed under your eyes. Hallucinations had become a reoccurring issue the longer you walked around like a living dead girl, unclear visions of men transforming into monsters; nightmares turned into reality.

“A sleep clinic might be our last hope,” your physician shrugs, having only reached this point with you after insisting you must be exaggerating. “I’ve contacted Dr. Na at the Vision Clinic, he’s the best Somnologist in the district. You should be in great hands.”

Great hands.

Great hands that led up to built up arms confined in a lab coat. Broad shoulders and a warm handsome smile that seems too blinding to even stare at for much long.

Dr. Na floats around his desk to greet you, light as a feather with the most calm of demeanors.

He smells lovely, soothing in a way similar to a hot stove warming up holiday cookies. Nothing too strong, but just enough to pick up a whiff of as he embraces your hand in greeting.

“My new patient.” He speaks with sparkling pearly white teeth on display. Every inch of him is a reminder of how wealthy Doctors are, from the silver Rolex watch adorning his wrist down to his freshly shined designer shoes.

He manages to maintain warmth in his gaze despite the obvious differences between the two of you.

Greasy hair, flesh empty of life and sweats you’ve turned into daily wear paired with fluffy Ugg slippers stand before him on your meek frame. Shyly nodding when he double checks how to pronounce your name and directs you to sit.

Dr. Na seemed too young to be a seasoned professional in this field. He couldn’t be much older than his mid-twenties. Albeit difficult to truly take him in full admiration as he sits against the ledge of the large crimson wooden oak desk placed in the center of his office. He takes time to run through your chart again, repeating the things you’ve heard for months now. No prior health issues or concerning conditions, a proper diet and lifestyle, nothing that could conclude how you’d end up here.

“How’s your caffeine intake?” Dr. Na asks with a charming lift at the corners of his mouth.

“Haven’t had any in two months now.”

“There are many causes behind insomnia.” Dr. Na nods, scribbling notes down while explaining. “I’ll schedule an MRI scan for later today to conduce if this could be connected to a chemical imbalance.”

“Chemical imbalance?”

“Emotional stress, perhaps trauma, lifestyle changes.” He smiles, akin to the way a Kindergarten teacher may when speaking to a naive child. “We will figure it out.”

Scribbling a few more notes, Dr. Na rips out a section of paper instructing you to head down to the cafeteria designated for patients to eat a proper meal. “I’ll be sending out the order for new medication to try. When it arrives at your room please make sure to follow the nurses directions and take them all. I will come by to check on you as soon as I have an open window of time.”

Dr. Na shifts to stand, the full size of him shadowed above your frail exhausted frame. “We’ll see how your nightmares play out this evening, once I can look through your MRI scan results we can move on to other options, such as hypnosis.”

“Hypnosis?” Even your speech comes out in a lazy drawl. Tongue heavy and dry, dizzy on your feet when you get up to head down. Already aware that you wouldn’t be eating much, even lifting a fork to your lips drained you.

“Of course, it’s one of my specialties.” He chuckles. “Might sound silly but I have a real knack for mind control, you’d be surprised how easy it is to dominate the human mind. It’s easier than training an animal.”

If it wasn’t for the speckled white dots infiltrating your vision, you might’ve noticed the slight change in Dr. Na’s expression. The flicker of black consuming his iris, the drag of his tongue across his upper row of teeth, and the amused hum passing through his throat as he takes in your appearance up close.

It’s been hours.

It’s been days.

It’s been weeks.

It’s been longer than that, months of watching you come in and out of your apartment. Endless days of parking far enough across from you to fly under your radar.

There was no rush, until there was.

Suddenly you had a companion walking you to your car after work, you had a reason to shop for pretty dresses, you sprayed more perfume on and smiled to yourself when opening up notifications on your phone.

Suddenly you felt further away, distracted by him. The stupid new much too friendly Economics professor who had found a way to stayed plastered to your side.

It’s too late anyway.

The sound of Jaemin’s knuckles cracked, echoing loud enough to lift your head with a glance around the coffee shop you frequented. He stayed leaned back in a corner less lit up, less noticeable, especially to someone as oblivious as you.

Someone so carefree and innocent, someone who didn’t even bother to make sure to grab the right drink from the counter when the barista called out your name. It was too easy to blindside you, drop a concoction of sleep medication in your cup as he picked up a quad shot Americano sitting near your milky vanilla latte.

Sip after sip had you yawning despite the powerful caffeine. Time and time again your usual morning pick-me-up failed you, to the point that you argued with the baristas about changing ingredients and formula.

It was too late.

Half asleep and drowsy, your key prodded at your front door in frustration, collapsing against it with your eyes shut and a crushed sigh.

The trap had been laid out, more out of enjoying the breakdown of watching you suffer and lose interests in everything the more you stayed awake night after night.

It made him laugh, entertained pulling on invisible puppet strings where he watched from down the hall as you crumbled to your knees, whining desperately for the key to unlock your apartment.

Weak, a perfect victim.

Jaemin had spent time finding you, it hadn’t been easy. Escaping hell never is afterall, bargains had to be made.

A vessel for his spawn, a strong healthy human vessel that could survive demonic childbirth. That was Johnny’s demands.

‘More than 1, I expect you to bring back many.’

You’d only be the first of the batch, the first to carry his lineage, the first to take his seed and hand over every bit of strength your little body had left in it after he finished.

and you’re perfect, immaculate in every way to carry his first child. The epitome of woman from the inside out. The sole purpose of your existence to be bred full, nothing but a hole to fuck.

Jaemin can’t deny the sick pleasure he gets just from watching you nearly pass out at your front door. A bump on your head the next day would be the only hint of what possibly took place. The bulky arms cradling your limp figure to bed would feel like a faded memory, the sound of your door being kicked shut, nothing more than a foreign thought, a distorted picture of a man hovering above you stripping off your clothing to settle you into your bed more of a nightmare than a dream.

Demons don’t have hearts, they don’t feel, they don’t care.

But you’d always be the first.

You’d always be special in comparison to the rest. The first kill of the hunt, the first prey to fall victim, the conquest alone would be more monumental than any of the rest. You’d be his favorite memory, the one he chose first.

Hunger and ache to destroy mattered more, and as his thick fingers dragged down your stomach, following the path of breaths lifting your ribs higher and lower, he salivates. He swallows at a dry itch at the bottom of his throat, fingers crushing your waist to dip in harder.

“Sleep tight princess.” He always spoke to you, a mere muffled sound in your mind.

Muffled sounds, staggered breaths, heavy weight suppressing your lungs and throat. Pain and fear, a dark sensation followed whenever the recollection of thoughts swarmed around.

It could be after a shower, brushing through your hair, applying lotion, dressing for work. The shadowed memory of something you can’t prove ever happened lingers.

Not even the pain in your lower back, the soreness between your thighs or marks blooming across your skin make any sense. Every idea or thought only seemed less plausible. No sign of break in, no clue to indicate intrusion to your home.

The thought of a demon stalking you day and night would never cross your mind.

Demons aren’t real.

Religion had never been an interest for you, your family hadn’t pushed any beliefs to follow. Most of what you’d learn about religious mythology stemmed from horror films, and demons just seemed like such an outlandish idea. A joke.

Why would you ever assume the doctor assigned to solve your problems could be the root of them.

Jaemin watches you sleep for the hundredth time, removing the crisp white lab coat to hang on a hook. He sits near the special bed for out-patients, away from the noise of machines and heart monitors. It’s quiet, peaceful and calm even as you sweat, breathe heavily and twist to hide your face.

Ruined. Mind deteriorated by dark evil, by happenings you have no control over.

It’s not the first time he’s visited your slumbering figure, your bare skin more ingrained in his mind than your clothed one.

The doors locked, nurses working the night shift too busy with sick patients to check on someone knocked out with sleep disorder.

Upon Dr. Na’s instructions no one should come by. As he undoes the buttons of his smooth ironed shirt he grins to himself. A camera’s set up in the room to capture your sleep schedule, how often you wake, if you sleep at all.

The dosage of medication you consumed tonight would be enough to tranquilize even a large dog. There’s no way you’d wake up tonight.

He didn’t want you to remember tonight, as much as the thought of your eyes fluttering open letting out a shrill scream when you see the visual above you made his cock twitch. A tingle burned from the bottom of his spine to his throat. It’d be fun to have you half-lucid, shouting and begging for him to stop.

But it’s more appealing to watch your arm flop limp at your side. Entertained by the way you seem uncomfortable even as you sleep.

Special.

Jaemin thinks about it, pushing the hospital gown up past your waist. He sucks at saliva filling his cheeks taking in the cute pair of light rosey toned panties hiding your center. You’re not even wet, yet, not that he cares. His cock only hardens thinking about it, smoothing down the expanse of your inner thighs. You’ll struggle more to take his size, cry and curl in to get away. Grip at the sheets by your head for some semblance, for anything to ground you and focus your pain elsewhere.

It’s not the first time he’s slowly tugged off your underwear. It’s not the first time he’s stretched your thighs open as far as they’re willing to go. The small scrunch in your nose informing him the pull hurts your hips, it aches up to your groin.

This is good, Jaemin thinks, this is good because he wants you to remember this. He wants you to know you’ve been claimed, fucked by something devilish and unholy. Touched and destroyed by sin in its human form. He wants you to see how well you take it, how your pilant body still manages to jerk and roll up seeking more of his length to dig deeper inside of you.

Tossing your underwear aside, he pauses to blink at the red light flashing on the camera. Recording everything he’s about to do.

He’s waited, waited so long that his cock twitches fiercely against his thigh at the visual of your exposed cunt.

Jaemin wants to take his time, savor the natural scent flowing from your middle. Drag his fingers aimlessly between your folds until you slicken up obscenely, bite every inch of skin, slap and knead handfuls of meaty flesh in a rough manner. Turn you on your stomach to force your ass up in his face, push your pussy folds open just to watch your hole plead. Empty. Begging for a fucking demon to fuck you even if it hurts, even if you don’t actually want it.

He wants to take his time, but he can’t. It’s been months of pulling out, jerking off on your pretty face, cooing and mewling above your cum splattered stomach. Smearing the warm arousal up your chest dreaming of the day he pours load after load inside of you.

and it’s time, it’s time to ruin you for good. Force your unconscious body to take and take.

One hand delicately tugs and strokes himself, hissing as he jerks away from his thumb rubbing across the head. Precum gathered there smearing around the tip, coating it in a thin layer of sticky gloss. His other hand works away the gown hiding your full breasts, ripping off the flimsy garment easily. Easy access to strip a patient, easier access to have you bare and ready for him.

His breath staggers, gliding the pads of his fingers down your chest. Your sternum rising and falling as a human should, because you’re full of life, full of emotions and feelings he could never understand anymore.

The connection to his human self evaded his memory years ago. Void of the life he once had, lifeless, mindless and consumed by nothing but the desire to create pain. To watch a stupid human like you in agony.

A stupid, stupid, pretty little human. Nothing more than a warm blood filled fleshlight to fuck.

Jaemin lets out a chuckle, dropping his neck back to stroke himself above your stomach. Slapping down the middle of your abdomen a few times just to watch your skin tremble beneath, just to picture how far deep inside of you he can reach. With your hips pushed up and expanded, he knows you’ll birth a child for him easily. A new spawn to create a powerful army in hell. The first of his bloodline to lead and carry on the fight for evil.

He knows you’ll make it through, because he won’t give you a choice.

Rubbing the head of his cock up from where your stomach dips to your navel, he almost wishes you’d wake up. Your weak arms would push up, slap his chest, punch his arms, burst into tears with protests.

That will come, in time.

In the meantime, he prods your belly button, smirking at the thought of fucking you there too. Fucking every hole on you just for fun, because who fucking cares what the king of hell demanded. Jaemin’s going to fuck you until only his needs are met and fulfilled.

The thought races through him spine to balls, hunching forward as he shifts on his knees. The bed dipping and creaking under his weight, switching to rub the tip on your clit.

Still dry.

Dry but warm. Warm enough to be incinerated by the jagged rub of his size passing between your folds. It’s dry, but it’s fucking good, just to feel your fleshy folds struggle along his veiny stiff rod. Just to feel your skin pucker against the sticky pre-cum coating areas of his shaft.

He grunts, rubbing his cock against the plush feel of your parted pussy folds, sneaking quick glimpses of your hole— so tight and closed up. Too tight to take his size without it hurting, without ruining your pussy to only take his cock.

He’s way too big, and he knows it. He knows it from the amount of times he's played with you, just swiping against your cunt. Teasing himself to the point of mind-numbing overstimulation by putting in just the tip. Whimpering even in your sleep from the push ripping you open.

Sucking at the drool lining his bottom lip, he staggers for a minute, pushing side to side against your pussy. Lazily drawing his eyelids up to take in your angelic face once more, so much purity and tenderness. All of it soon to be his.

The slumber you’ve drifted off into isn’t peaceful in the least. It’s hot, weighing down on your chest, an itch passing through your nerves. Running through endless hallways filled with doors leading to nothing, nothing but black emptiness.

It’s been Jaemin all along, smoothing your hair away from your face. Snaking his lips over your body layering patterns of kisses. Jerking off for hours on your face, chest, stomach, anywhere he felt like.

He thinks about it again, nudging in not even half of the tip against your resistant entrance. A rubber band-like snap pinches around the width of his size. The skin sucking around him already appears damaged, further arousing him to inflict pain upon you, to make it hurt. Make it hurt knowing you have no choice but to take it and enjoy it against your will.

Groping your jaw with one thick hand, he turns your restless passed out face to watch him; easy to picture your eyes shooting up full of red vessels and tears. It burns from his chest to his lower back, swiveling his hips to push in the rest of the tip of his length. The bulbous mushroom shaped cap suffocates inside of you. Dry and tight as fuck, he thinks fervently, hissing between his teeth shining under the dim light as his lips part in moan.

It’s more than good just to feel you choke around the tip, your mouth falling open with a staggered breath allowing him to pinch and roll your plump bottom lip between his fingers.

Jaemin pauses, once more absorbing just how lifeless and limp you lay spread open. Part of him craves for you to wake, to stare up in shock paralyzed by fear, to be able to relive the torture he’s prepared to demonstrate. To enjoy it, because you’re actually nothing but a filthy slut; his own little human fuck doll.

It’s time. It’s finally time.

Saliva drenched digits drag down your chin, the center of your throat, dipping between your exposed breasts. Hardened pebbled nipples peak upward, more stiff from the chilled air circulating the room than excitement. You’re too unaware to feel aroused or anxious, too lucid, lost in the nightmare grappling you through hell.

Even if you were to wake up, Jaemin would only fuck you harder, tackle you down to take, take, take.

A shot of exhilaration curls through his gut, tugging his spine toward his navel as he hunches closer with one hand planted by your head to stay propped up. Jaemin’s gaze locks on your core, a pussy made just for him, because it doesn’t matter who fucked you before. He’d be the last.

The slow drag out of you draws an anguished sounds from the back of his throat. He needs to see you one more time, one more time before he claims and makes you useless for anyone else.

With a fist wrapped around his length, his other hand palms your cunt, shoving your swelling slit open to see the full visual of your hole. So empty, tiny, like a fucking virgin.

It really makes his head spin for a minute, rubbing the pad of his finger in a circular motion over your entrance. The airy gurgle that escapes your lungs shoots his eyes wide, focused on your face burying into a pillow. He tugs on himself a few more times, mindlessly rolling two digits over the precum that won’t stop leaking. He needs to fuck you, now.

Stifling a grunt, Jaemin shifts an inch closer, wrapping a thick bicep under your thigh to spread you open more. The head of his cock swipes between your core, slapping down heavy. Heavy and loud despite the lack of wet to clash against. Wedged up as close as possible between your thighs, and Jaemin has to grit his teeth to contain a growl. Pushing his hips forward to rub the underside of his cock against your clit, he wants to let out a throaty cry; a muted sound of pain when he feels it.

You’re clenching around nothing, seeking something.. someone to fuck you. Unaware of what your body is even asking him to do. Each drag spurs your hole to clamp down more, the first push of wetness spewing out smears against his balls. His throat tightens up swiping between you again, the tip teasing and brushing against your entrance without entering.

Jaemin’s nostrils suck in, inhaling a deep breath as he watches his cock bounce off your fleshy folds in slow-like-motion. Nasty, so nasty and raw, wet for anyone like the textbook definition of a fucking whore.

The next stroke along his cock glides easily, wet from your dripping pussy, wet because your body wants him whether you’re awake or not. He doesn’t care, but he knows it, he knows from the way you stare. The dreams you have of him not even under his influence.

Pressing at your hole again has him drooling, laving at the innerwalls of his mouth to collect the saliva that won’t stop from pouring.

“Fuck.” Jaemin finally grunts, biting down on his teeth as he sinks inside of you. It’s wet and tighter than he could have ever imagined. The hand wrapped around himself hardly comparable after many nights spent jerking off on your backside.

A smooth thrust fills you up eagerly, a perfect fit making it too hard to hold back from cramming into you balls deep.

Jaemin stills for a minute, long eyelashes fan on the tops of his cheeks. Swallowing harsh enough for his Adam's apple to visibly bob up and down the length of his dipped back neck. “So fucking good, just like I knew you would be.”

Palms scramble along the sides of your thighs, grinding forward to watch your mouth fall open again. A silent cry he wants to hear echo through the room simply not enough. Reaching for your waist, Jaemin pins your upper half to the bed, wiggling his hips to keep your thighs around his sides.

“Wet like a whore.” Jaemin snickers, clicking his tongue along the backs of his teeth. The painful circle of his hips fills the room with gasped whines, grinning to himself because you’re enjoying it. You like getting fucked, even in your sleep. He could care less with the sole mission to breed you full of cum consuming his head. He thrusts finally, the head of his size catching on your hole earning a louder moan.

The warmth gripping his dick feels mind-numbing, the most he’s felt in months since hunting you down, and his pace alters immediately as the feeling finally gets to him. You’re his for the taking, his and only his.

“Mine.” Jaemin mutters to himself, ruthlessly thrusting back into you in a jerky motion. It’d be painful if you were awake, his pace alternating from meticulously deep rolls of his hips to sloppy, aggressive and messy. The sound of wetness more overbearing than the clap of your skin colliding.

He’s frantic, knowing he can fuck you like his as long as he pleases, and you can’t do anything about it.

Jaemin’s thick arms bracket your head, nose hovered above your lips. Moan after moan sounding more excruciating than the last. Fucking into your tight cunt like a man who just discovered the glory of a fleshlight, reckless abandonment. The ache against your groin and thighs one guaranteed to last for weeks to come.

“So fucking good for me angel.” Jaemin praises, head thrown back when you clench around him. It makes him laugh like a maniac, amused by the idea of you listening, hearing everything he says. Dropping his face to your throat, he licks up your jaw to your earlobe, nibbling before he whispers. “Pretty baby loves getting fucked like a slut.”

A sigh sings from your lips, the prettiest sigh he’s ever heard. A sigh that runs in circles throughout his mind, turning to drop his cheek against yours with wide eyes focused on shut ones. The heavy weight of your eyelids taunting him, pushing him to fuck harder for just a glimpse of your hidden iris.

He could cum off that alone, and it punches through him with the next thrust, burying his thick fat length as deep inside of you as he can. Surely deep enough to rip through your insides, the weight of his heavy cock poking between your pressed together stomachs with each pointed thrust.

Jaemin’s obsessed with the grip your pussy gives, needing to feel you lock you and struggle to take him through your unwanted pleasure once more. Snaking his hand between your connected lower halves, he roughly rubs at your engorged clit, fat between his fingers from neglect. The need to cum more prevalent for the both of you than he cares about, but it feels too good to force his size past your shrunken entrance.

“You’re so fucking good for me. You don’t even know.” Jaemin babbles to himself, nose digging into your cheekbone to quiet the groan ripping through his chest. The sound of your wetness fills the room up in the most obscene way, splashing against his thighs and stomach with each impactful land of his hips.

“Ah—fuck!” A string of curses soars free, jostling you up the hospital bed that struggles to stay in place as he fucks you at a near inhumane pace. The whites of your eyes gleam with his next thrust, rolled back from the powerful hit that arches your back involuntarily.

“Fuck you all night, gonna fuck you everyday.”

Jaemin cries out, ripping a chunk of your hair with a balled up fist to unveil the column of your throat, biting down as the coiling heat in his gut becomes too overwhelming.

And he cums, screaming with his teeth dug into your skin. Bits of flesh scraped off by his sharp canine teeth, but still not enough to wake you, even as you let out a weak moan intensely squirting release around his size.

It’s almost too hard to stay put inside of you, having to realign his weight to keep his cock in despite the wet arousal bursting trying to shove him out.

It’s more desperate than he wanted, to fuck you like he owns you, because he does now. You’re his from inside out now. You’ll always be his.

Jaemin’s flopping down to his stomach, pushing your pussy folds open to ensure every drop of cum disappears. He has to fight back the urge to lean in, slurp of the slick wet coating your labia to watch your hole convulse, twitch and swallow down the white mess of cum passing through.

“We always have tomorrow to keep trying.” He grins wolfishly, throwing your gown back on without a care. “and the day after that.”

The camera shuts off, near the end of it’s battery life, and he thinks the timing couldn’t be more perfect. Scooting back toward your heaving figure, he leisurely trails up one of your thighs, playfully pushing them apart to memorize how damaged he’s left you. A fat wad of cum bubbles deep in your stretched out hole, gaped around nothing, sore and painful looking.

When morning comes you’ll wonder again why your body hurts so much. You’ll cry miserably, losing your patience, ready to end your battle, ready to give up. That’s what Jaemin wants anyway.

“Goodnight angel.”

It’s been over a week now of staying at the clinic, and you feel worse than when you arrived.

“How long has it been since you’ve had a good nights sleep?”

The questions rhetorical, not that you’d be able to decipher the true meaning behind your doctors words.

Between nightmares altering reality and mixing up different prescribed medications, you no longer had a grasp on time. Nothing felt real anymore, even the metal table before you reflecting your exhausted lifeless appearance felt like some horrific illusion.

“I can’t remember.”

Dr. Na leans closer to you with his elbows propped on the table to perch his chin in his hands. A soft yet devious smile painted on his lips as he watches you lose your fight.

“I’ll show you what you have forgotten.”

Dr. Na could say anything to you at this point really. Beyond the horrific visions taking over your brain, your body felt like it was breaking down on you. Every muscle sore, even your bones ached, new marks of bruising appeared everyday.

“I believe, I’ve figured out what’s keeping you awake.” The doctor says, turning to a rolly table at his side. Click clacks of typing sounds throughout the empty room, clearing his throat as he turns a black screen to face you.

“You have?”

Dr. Na stands, he smooths back a bang piece of hair that's fallen loose. The lab coat fitting his frame perfectly begins to slip from his wide shoulders and he removes it without breaking eye contact.

“You see, you’re a special case to me.” He continues, rounding the table to stand behind where you sit with his heavy palms weighing down on your slumped shoulders. “I’ve invested so much time and energy into you.”

Dr. Na’s lips pout behind you, gathering your hair off to one side to tickle down the side of your marked up throat. Marks left behind from his ruthless grip choking away your breath while he fucked you harder and deeper without anything or anyone to restrain him.

“In return, I need you to listen.”

“Doctor?” He could be speaking a foreign language as far as you’re concerned. Tilting your chin to the side to look up at him, your forehead wrinkles confused, met with the always handsome comforting face. Big doe eyes that round in a precious way that makes you feel as if everything will be ok.

“Shh shh” pinching your chin, Dr. Na turns you to face the screen, leaning the weight of his chest against the back of your head as he reaches over. Fingers click down, a video of your sleeping figure taking over the laptop screen.

“Did I do something in my sleep?” You wonder, watching as you struggle to stay still. Your feet kick the more you turn side to side, it’s uncomfortable to see yourself in distress.

“Not quite, angel.” Dr. Na huffs, continuing to push his chest closer to you. He has you hunched in closer, face lit up by the screen. Surprised as the doctor appears, and bright red eyes flash in the direction of the camera. A glitch because of the dim-lighting, you decide. “But I did.”

It’s shocking, disgusting, and humiliating to see what happens next. The choked gasp that pours from your mouth trapped by a large hand slapping down on your lips.

“You see, I chose you sweetie.” Dr. Na’s tone falls an octave, the sugary sweetness behind his words disappearing. “This whole time, I molded you, prepared you for this.”

He nods, pushing his other hand down to grip and hold your stomach. “To carry my future child, to birth my spawn.”

Screams go muffled beneath the palm splayed over your mouth, shoved up with an arm belted around your waist to bend over on the table. Dr. Na rips at the hospital gown covering your backside, arching your neck with his powerful hold on your face to force you to continue watching him take advantage and use your body.

“I said shush!” He sounds more demonic now, displaying an inhuman strength as he shreds off your underwear. The chill air floating through the room smacks your core quickly sending your knees to clink together. Fearful as you watch the man on screen rip you open from the inside. “Almost liked you better asleep.”

He has the audacity to laugh when tears trickle down his fingers, kicking your thighs open with a knee as he plants against your bent body. The cool table melting against your heated flesh with his hips smacking into your bottom. Three fingers shove into your mouth as you attempt to scream for help, someone, anyone to hear you and stop what happens next.

“You see,” fingers drag up the backs of your thighs, gripping roughly where they land on your ass to spread you apart. Sucking in air between his teeth at the sight of your ruined hole, swollen and painfully stretched from the amount of times he’s fucked you through the night now. “You’re perfectly healthy, couldn’t be better. A little stupid, but you’re human afterall.”

He doesn’t explain more than that, thrusting his fingers deeper into your mouth to quiet the coughs and cries spilling out of you. The sound of a zipper opening has you weakly attempting to thrash back, fight him off.

He’s too big, he’s too strong, too powerful to kick away.

The first touch of his bare skin shoots your eyes open, crying out as his girth lands against your core.

He’s too big. He’s too fucking big, and he’ll break you.

Pleads fall empty trying to pray for mercy, his cock only leaking out more spurts of precum as a murmured ‘please God’ sounds.

“God can’t help you now, sweet little angel.” He sneers, rubbing the length of his size between your folds just as he begins to on the screen. The hold on your jaw forces you to watch each action, to watch the way he manipulates your body to do as he pleases.

“Don’t want it princess?” He grunts shakily, growling in his chest because you’re already wet. So fucking nasty, hot and wet between your thighs, canting back to meet his cock ramming against your meaty folds. “But look at how much you loved it.”

He shakes your head in a mocking manner, much like a child being punished for uttering a bad word. The screen too blurry behind your tears, but the image is clear enough to see your doctor take advantage of you in your most innocent helpless state.

“Please, please doctor…please.”

The sound of his tongue clicking in dismay echoes like a jeer, circling your entrance with the tip the more you plead. “Jaemin. Enough of this bullshit doctor act.”

Nothing he says to you makes sense anymore, incapacitated by his weight crushing your feeble body to the table. Deeming your pussy wet enough, he scoots forward to sandwich past your clamped thighs, kicking a foot roughly between your knees for more leverage. He wants it to hurt, wants you to scream to make up for all the times he’s let you enjoy it, wants to see you cry and beg for him to stop.

One swoop forward gives him exactly what he desires, shallowly fucking his full heavy girth in even with how tight you still manage to be. The video on screen displays a similar act, different in position, lacking the blood curdling screams and cries you let out as he mocks and laughs.

“So pretty baby, you’re so pretty for me.” Jaemin licks at his upper lip, jostling against you a few times as he turns you by your chin to look at him, cracking your neck with the strain. “Can I fuck you? Huh?”

He laughs again, an arrogant disgusting laugh, emphasizing the question with another piston of his hips. “Can I? My sweet angel can take it. You already have.”

It’s too easy, you’re nothing but a mindless hole succumbed to his strength. The man behind you more demonic than anything, the gentle features of your concerned doctor turned dark, menacing, purely evil.

His hips hammer wildly, keeping your face turned to the side to watch the way he ravages your body. To watch him destroy and rip away your soul.

Every choked miserable cry you let out only heightens his pleasure, snapping his hips brutally against your backside. The pain hits from both ends with each dig of your thighs and pelvic bone cutting against the table.

“You were tighter the other night.” He spits, wadding up saliva to aim at the middle of your fast. The nasty thick wetness trickling from the bridge of your nose to the puddle of snot and drool accumulated on your lips. “Already fucking loose, you know what that means?”

Fingers squeeze past his relentless hips, shoving between your buttcheeks to scratch at your rim earning a shriek and scurry of your feet to get away. The sadistic laugh that booms out behind you sending shrill fear up your spine, tightening up around the length punching in and out of you with intention to hurt.

“Ah, fuck, yeah. Like that.” Jaemin pushes back, choking your neck from behind to hold you down. Palm smacking down angrily on your rim. “but not today.”

He reaches around, finding your clit between his middle and index finger to pinch and roll until you lift onto your tippy toes with a gurgled scream. “Can’t fuck a baby into you back there.”

“Doctor, please! Stop!” Between heavy breaths and sniffles, Jaemin keeps laughing, biting on his lips from the conflict in your tone. Your pussy locked around his length begging for more the louder you cry and protests.

“Don’t have to beg.” He taunts, licking up your back to bite down on your jaw, his fingers continuing to pleasure your bundle of nerves incessantly. “Gonna fuck you full of cum regardless. You’re so wet for me princess.”

It’s sick, sensing the last semblance of energy leaving your fingertips, the hold you had on the table goes numb, shaking against your will as orgasm rips through you making Jaemin growl and fuck harder past the convulsing around his size. He crushes against you completely, knocking your lungs free of all air, desperately twitching as he paints your insides once again.

He’s quick to recover, faster than you can process, pulling out to throw you down onto your knees and stroke the last spurts of cum onto your lips before you can try to crawl away.

“You’re mine now.” Dr. Na’s chest beats up and down drenched in sweat. You shouldn’t like it, but as you wait for the bile to rise up your esophagus you can’t look away. The pads of his fingers clean your chin, pushing release past your swollen abused lips. Nodding with his chin that you swallow it all.

“What did I just say?” He tuts, pushing two digits down on the middle of your tongue until you cough and choke. Jerking out with a river of drool streaming out onto the floor, onto his designer loafers.

“I’m yours.” You repeat, sniffling with a cough as the tangy taste of cum lodges in your throat. It’s everywhere, rubbed raw onto your skin, stuck between your teeth. The statement is nothing but true as he watches you swallow.

“Exactly.” Dr. Na scoops you up, perched on the edge of the table to slap your thighs open. “You’re mine, and I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

#jaemin smut #na jaemin smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct jaemin #jaemin fanfic #na jaemin fanfic #nct dream fanfic #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #neopuppy fics #jaemin imagines #onek #jaemin scenarios #nct dream imagines

2K notes · View notes

aesthetic-bbyg · 10 months

Text

SMOOTH OPERATOR- TOM K.

Tom Kaulitz x chola!reader

in which you and a group of friends walk into a convince store in LA only for you to end up crushing on the German boy buying beer and candy.

Nattie speaks: I came up with this while listening to music hehehehe. I was also torn between braids or dreads but ultimately I chose braids🤞

TOM SHUFFLED ACROSS the aisle of the gas station, eyes wandering across the variety of candy and occasionally glancing down at the crumpled up paper in his hand, scribbles of what everyone wanted hardly readable. He wasn’t familiar of the area, only being in LA for a few days for the tour but he was still sent off to find all the necessity’s to survive in the hotel a little longer. His black glasses were shoved up onto his hat, braids swinging down his back with each step while also pulling his baggy pants up. His hands were full of chips, candy, cookies, now his vision was directed towards the back freezers were the beer was stored.

Off in the distance he could hear a faint buzz, a booming sound of music being heard from a mile away and it only got closer. The lyrics of a Tupac song echoed into the store, a mixture of boys and girls stumbling in loudly. The one holding stereo grinned innocently, lowering down the music as the clerk behind the counter glared at him. Two girls trailed in after, you and your best friend, Alejandra, pinkies interlocked as you whispered about some teen pregnancy that happened downtown.

“Hurry up, or I ain’t getting you nothin’.” Your brother, Manuel, demanded, heading towards the food. His hair was slicked back, far too much gel layed on his dark locks to stick it in place.

The two of you headed down to the back, immediately searching for the cold drinks, you sharp eyes looked around the glass doors of different beverages. You gasped suddenly, wrapping your fingers around the metal handle of the door and pulling it open. A fresh breeze blew onto your body, contrasting against the hot sun that beamed brightly just outside. “Damn, Jandra!” Your friend jogged by you with curious eyes. “They released a sandía version of the Arizona Teas!” A big grin filled your face, grabbing the red tin can.

“Shiit.” Alejandra smiled, “Alright, you get the sandía and I get the mango, just so we got options.” You nodded, closing the door as someone walked behind you. You looked over your shoulder instinctively, catching sight of a tall boy, adorned in baggy clothing, a bandana wrapped along his hairline and long cornrows.

Tom had also taken notice of you the moment you stepped into the store, he turned to catch a better look but was met with your own eyes. For a moment, time slowed, both of gazed kept on each other, waiting for the other to look away. In the end, his eyes were lost behind a shelf, but you could see the way his lips quirked up into a smirk before he walked into the chip aisle.

You nudged Alejandra, removing her attention from the kids juice box section. You subtly nodded over to the boy who stood a few feet away, grabbing a bag of salty snacks. “He’s cute.” You whispered, Alejandra nodded in agreement smiling over at you knowingly. “Should ask I for his number?”

“Do it.” The girl giggled, revealing her pearly teeth that were caged behind a pair of braces. But, before you could walk over he began to make his way to the front, breezing past your brother and his group of friends who were going ham on the condiments. You huffed, walking by your brother to get a better look at him but still keeping it nonchalant. Your hands were inching towards a bag of Hot Cheetos, you brother loudly chewed on his hotdog, you stared over at him with a disgusted face. Alejandra opened up a bag of hot Cheetos, filling it up with cheese from the nacho section. You joined her, doing the same till your ear picked up a brewing commotion.

“In the United States you need to be 21 to buy beer.” The old clerk lectured, angrily glaring at the boy in front of him, a ID slipped on the counter that showed all of the mysterious cute boys information.

“But I am 19,” He pointed at the date of birth stated on the card, “that’s legal everywhere else, just let me have them.” The boy argued back, a thick accent in the back of his throat while he flailed his arms angrily.

“But we’re not anywhere else, we’re in the United States, it’s the law, kid.” The braid-haired boy groaned, taking back his ID and leaving behind the pack of beers, cursing under his breath in german. At that point the commotion had caught the attention of all the group. You stared as he stomped out the store, bag full of other snacks in his hands. Your brother and his friends snickered amongst eachother, you shoved his shoulder with a stern look.

“Yo, do him a solid and get them.” You muttered, your brother stared down at you, expression laid back and careless like usual, but he raised a brow.

“You gon’ pay for it o que?” (Or what) He questioned, “Cuz, I’m already payin’ for whatever you and Jandra got there, I ain’t spending my money on nothin’ more.”

You rolled your eyes, stuffing your hands into your pocket and pulling out the last bit of cash you had on you, placing it in his open palm. He smirked smugly, walking to get a pack before making his way upfront, the things got paid for, the cashier asking the same questions of did you find everything okay? as always, though his miserable tone was pitiful. As soon as you and the group stepped out the store, your brothers friend cranked up the volume on the stereo again, the song blasting from the speaker. From a distance you could see the same boy, leaned up against the ice machine, his snacks still in hand while the other held a cigarette between his fingers. His dark glasses protecting his eyes from the lowering sun.

Alejandra smiled at you, passing the pack of cold beers before cheering you on silently. You looked back at her before jogging over to the tall boy. “Yo, got these for you.” For a moment he just stared at you confusingly, cigarette burning down as the seconds ticked by. “I saw what happened in there, but don’t worry, we always got each others backs here in LA.”

You’d begun to think that maybe he didn’t understand you, he did have a thick, foreign accent while speaking earlier which made you assume that he may have a limited English vocabulary. You weren’t sure, but it made you nervous and awkwardly shuffle from side to side. But finally, he dropped the cigarette, crushing it under his shoes and lifting his sunglasses from his enchanting irises. He grabbed the pack, a smirk on forming on his pierced lips. “Thank you, beautiful, what’s your name?”

You liked his confidence, the nickname immediately making your smile and lean your head to the side flirtatiously. “Y/n, and you?”

“Tom.” He replied swiftly, eyes examining your body. The tight white tank top that hugged your skin, the baggy Dickies that belong to your brother hung low on your waist being kept up by a black belt, your ears gleaming with large silver hoops. You had a few tattoos scattered across the exposed skin he could see, your eyebrows were thinly drawn on, lips lined with a dark shade of brown. He liked you, adored your style. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks.” You bit your lip, looking up at him through your lashes. “You fine as hell too, that’s why I wanted to ask for your number.”

“Yeah?” Tom lowly questioned, his shit-eating smirk only getting bigger. “Well you’ve got it, gorgeous.” He set down the beers, reaching for his phone in his deep pockets. You exchanged numbers, conversing a little longer, pulling all the flirty comments you could think of. You got him to chuckle a few times before he revealed that he was in town with his band.

“I like your glasses.” You hands reached forward, grabbing them from his head and placing them on your face. “Damn, these nice as fuck.”

He chuckled softly, staring at you. “Keep them.” You looked over at him, lowering the glasses to make sure that he meant it and wasn’t playing with you. “Gives me a reason to see your pretty face again.”

“Damn.” You stared at him happily before a loud horn blasted from behind you, you rolled your eyes, glancing back to see your brother looking back at you from red the low-rider car seat. “I gotta go, but call me guapo.” You smirked, waving your hand before walking towards the car. Alejandra smirked as she saw your happy express when you hopped in the open-roofed car. Tom eyes never left you as the car pulled away from the gas station and sped down the road, the whole vehicle vibrating as a rap song shrieked out the speakers.

“Who was that vato you were talkin’ to?” Manuel questioned, looking back at you from the rear-view mirror with a raised brow.

“None of ya’ business, mitotero.” You rolled your eyes and crossed your arms, head turning to stare out into the road, the harsh wind whipping through your hair. Alejandra smirked, leaning in closer to your ear.

“So, did you get it?” Your friend watched as your lips twitched, teeth coming out to bite back the grin that threatened to show. She giggled, shaking your body lightly. “Ohh, girl, you got that look of looove.”

“He fine as hell but love is a little much.” You replied, looking over at her with a mischievous smile. “He gave him his glasses, though.” You pull them from your head and passed them to her as she gawked at them.

“A la madre, this is some of that nice shit.” She examined it closely, staring at the Ray-ban logo printed on the side. Just then you felt a buzz on your thigh, you looked down at the phone as it lit up with a notification, an unknown number texted you. Immediately you opened it and smiled, Tom had texted you, a flirty greeting topped with a winky face. “I assume it your man textin’?”

“Cállate.” You turn your phone off, stuffing it in the side pocket of your pants. The text was only the first of many, Tom taking more interest in you the longer you talked, it wasn’t long till he’d taken you to his hotel room.

“Shit, fool.” You mumbled, tightening the belt around your waist as Tom chuckled, being the only audience member of your fashion show, aka you trying on his stupidly baggy clothes. “How so you wear this stuff everyday.”

He shrugged, throwing his hands up slightly. “I am a big man, I need big clothes.”

“No shit.” You scoffed, turning towards the mirror and staring at the huge shirt that looked more like a dress. “Should I wear this to the carne asada?”

“I think you should wear nothing, you’re sexier that way.” The Kaulitz boy smirked, doing that thing where he fiddled with the black piercing on his lip. You rolled your eyes and walked back into the closet, ignoring his comments as you dug through more of his clothes. In a few hours you and Tom would have to arrive at your tíos carne asada, Tom being requested to join by non other then your mother.

Tom was already dressed and splayed out on the seat, just watching as you struggled to find something, which why you ended digging through his clothes. It took an half hour before you came out satisfied, grinning widely as you put on your silver hoops.

The real problem came the moment you stepped in the backyard, your tíos home full of guest that you knew and some you didn’t. Either way a handful of them came up to with same comments how old you looked and how big you’ve gotten. Manuel came up with his little gang that constantly followed him around, it took him the longest to get sue to Tom. Though, it wasn’t long before your brother and Tom became friends.

“Wassup, ese.” Manuel he held a corona beer in his hand, using his free one to grab clap against Tom’s and bring him in for a swift chest bump. Then you ran into your mother, her expression going from a stern glare to a huge smile. Everything had went smooth so far, you were happy to be there, until a familiar voice squealed from behind you.

“Tomas! Mi Niño, mira que guapo té vez!” Your mother chanted, bringing him into a tight hug and planting her calloused hands on his cheek, he smiled shyly at her affection. The boy had grown to be a favorite, his charisma and cute looks making him popular with the tías.

“Mama, he just got here from Germany a couple days ago, está cansado, we just gonna sit and chill.” You attempted to reason with the woman, staring at your boyfriend apologetically. But you’d only made the situation worse, she gasped dramatically, looking back at the boy and ushering him to a table. She’s explained everything to all of the tías, which lead to him being taken care of for most of the night. He was constantly being checked up on, being handed plates of food, being talked to about the latest scandal of the neighborhood, it left you sitting with Alejandra, on the other side of the backyard.

“Que tienes, amiga?” The dark haired girl questioned, staring at your frowning face and squinted eyes. She could practically feel the heat of annoyance radiating of you.

“They took my fucking man!”

heheheheh, this just a short little thang I decided to write bc why not,🤷‍♀️y’all already know that Tom would have the aunties in a CHOKEHOLD!! I also had to rewrite the last half of this bc I forgot to save it so sorry if any parts of it seem rushed or short!

#tokio hotel #tom kaulitz #Tom Kaulitz x reader #chola #Tom Kaulitz x you #Latina #mexicana #Tom Kaulitz imagine #2000s #tom Kaulitz braids era

398 notes · View notes

lettersofgold · 14 days

Text

-> unthinkable | chapter three | jules k.

genre: angst, fluff, smut | authors note: | loosely proofed y’all bare with me, running two blogs and writing multiple fics at once 🫣

warnings: google translations, loosely proofed

summary: jules could never get it quite right. no girl gave him the feeling that he had with you. he wasn’t even sure he knew how to love a woman until you came into his life - even when he was dating around, his loyalty and heart were with you. you couldn’t find someone who stirred the feeling of love in you the way jules did, but he was just a friend and he wasn’t done playing the field. the two of you were giving each other the love you both never felt before and after fighting it for so long, you realized you both deserved it and you were finally ready.

[ pictured fc: black!fem!reader & kaia ]

THEN.

The evening air was humid and unforgiving and your dress was beginning to accumulate sweat but you were grateful you chose the dress versus the dress pants your friend suggested over your anxious FaceTime call. You found yourself stuck outside the restaurant door, your hand on the knob but not daring to turn it. Kaia, your new colleague, texted you that the doorman would give you directions to get upstairs but you felt overwhelmed by the idea of walking through this elegant establishment and into an even more elegant engagement party, alone. You dropped your hand from the door knob and took two wobbly stiletto steps backwards and began considering acting as if you had an incident and couldn’t make it. Your mind was a revolving door of excuses but not a single one would ease the guilt of lying to your coworker who was going out of her way to be your friend. It was comical how guarded you became when you stepped into this country when the entire reason for uprooting your life was to blossom. Some things take time, you said internally, and took in a large breath before deciding that you had no choice but to go through the door regardless of your feelings. It would be horrible to bail on the one woman at your job who made sure you were okay and went out her way to help you - seeing her for every day the rest of the year after standing her up would be unforgivable in your eyes and no doubt, in hers too.

You hated to be that person but you genuinely didn’t want to walk through the restaurant alone. You stepped aside from the door to allow other guests to make their way in and out while you shot a quick text to Kaia to ask if she could send someone to help you find your way. You gnawed at the inside of your glossed lip and awaited her reply, hoping and praying that there would be other English speakers at this party. You held onto the gift bag of champagne with Kaia’s and her fiancée, Corey’s name engraved on it, italicized gold writing. It was a sweet but simple gift and the card inside said to wait to open the bottle until “what felt like the perfect time, to remember how far you have come.” and your well wishes were scribbled underneath. Your phone buzzed with a text from Kaia saying she sent someone down with no clear description of who to expect but at least it was someone.

You saw his hand before you saw the rest of him - tan, large, and covered in rings - each one silver but varying in size and shape. The color of his skin was golden underneath the full moon and the breeze created by the door opening drifted by bringing along the scent of a cologne you could not name, nor could probably even afford. The expensive smell of him matched his delicately balanced all-black outfit. Delicate brown eyes found yours as he stepped out of the door and closed it behind him. His previously straight face turned into a small smile as he looked at you and you suddenly felt as if you were staring way too hard at him. You dropped your gaze to your high heeled feet and brought your gift bag up in front of your face.

“Is this enough?” You asked awkwardly. The man replied in a smooth sentence of Spanish and you immediately were back to being nervous. Of course he spoke Spanish.

“Sorry, uh, english?”

“It’s perfect. Is there any space on the card?” He laughed, and took a peek inside of the gift bag. You were unable to place his accent but you were more focused on his gentle voice as he complimented the gift you customized for the couple.

“Space?”

“I forgot a gift.” He admitted with a boyish grin that immediately disarmed your nerves. He grabbed it out of your hands and turned to open the door and lead you through the dimly lit restaurant. “Could I put my name on yours?”

“Absolutely not!” You hissed with a laugh as you trailed him through the first floor of the restaurant.

It took all of three large steps across the room before you noticed that nearly all eyes were on the two of you - but especially on him. The air conditioning couldn’t ease the spikes of heat that traveled around your body and up your neck - you hated being the center of attention. It was the one thing you wanted to avoid and somehow Kaia sent you a person who was saying polite things to each person who stood to speak to him. You noticed the consistency between the Spanish and you were able to recognize a bit of the words: big fan, Barca, cannot believe it, el clasico, next match.

It was a familiar thing to stand patiently to the side as the man greeted each person attentively - you were transported back in time. Back to a time that you desperately clawed your way out of. So, although familiar, it was unnerving.

“Uh, ‘scuse me,” you interrupted and his eyes met yours, “what way is the party? I don’t want to interrupt.”

His gaze was intentionally focused on you, listening carefully as you asked him to point you to the festivities. If you stood here any longer, the way you did with your ex-boyfriend, you would begin to panic and that was the last thing you needed to happen.

“Oh, don’t let us take time away from your girlfriend. Go! Enjoy your night.” An older man demanded with a shooing motion and a parental smile. You didn’t have the chance to correct his mistake because the younger man simply thanked him and grabbed your own hand. You stumbled as he guided you through the room and you prayed that no one else was watching but when you turned to glance back at them, they were all staring.

“What's that all about?” You asked him inside the elevator. He leaned against the wall with his arms crossed and shrugged his shoulders, skirting around your question.

“Nuh uh, if you want to sign my card,” you saw a light flicker in his eyes and you knew you’d got him, “you have to explain all of that.”

“I’m Jules.” He said quietly and you noticed the way he held his breath as he extended a hand to for you to shake - the shake turned into a gentle but firm hold. You introduced yourself and he smiled again, making you feel like a schoolgirl on the playground being “tagged-you’re-it” by the boy you had a crush on.

“That doesn’t answer my question, though.” You let go of his arm and crossed yours. His eyebrows knitted together and he simply replied to your comment.

“I’m Jules Kounde.” He reiterated. You mimicked him, telling him your first and last name, still unsure of what he was getting at.

“I’m a footballer.” He said in a guarded tone. He was gaging your reaction and searching for your lightbulb moment, searching for an air of desperation to ooze off of you. Except it never did because you didn’t really know what it meant besides it made people swarm to him. The elevator dinged and he leaned off the wall, his body towered over yours and he blocked the door with his arm letting you walk out first. The ‘intimate’ party Kaia mentioned was anything but - on first glance, there had to be at least 100 people on the rooftop patio equipped with a full bar.

“Oh…” you said with a nod as he stood beside you, the both of you staring at the lively party underneath the stars and delicately placed string lights. You leaned into him and he bent his head down, “I don’t really know what that means.”

He laughed loudly and you couldn’t hold back the giggle.

“If I tell you, can I sign the card?” He asked.

You motioned with a “meh” motion of your hands.

“Maybe.”

“How can I turn it into a yes?” He whispered in your ear and suddenly the night air was cool compared to his breath on your skin. The smell of his cologne and the sheer heat of his breath was enough to make you want to cling to him all night and thankfully, you knew how you could.

“A glass of champagne and a full breakdown of who’s who during this party.”

——

NOW.

“What are you smiling at?” Kaia leaned over the coffee table attempting, and failing, to peek at your phone. Kaia knew you were smiling because of Jules. It was early and the morning sun was shining on your skin. She learned that you processed everything internally and only expressed what you felt was certain. Kaia learned that you and Jules were alike in that manner and suddenly, in many other ways too. Kaia wished she saw it sooner and Corey wished she hadn’t seen it at all: now he was hearing about Jules from Kaia, and hearing about you from Jules. It was never ending.

“It’s nothing.” You locked your phone and placed it face down. Jules texted you multiple times this morning in an attempt to escape the bet - He didn’t score a goal which meant he didn’t celebrate. So, he sent you five dollars (which bought your coffee ) and had to make you dinner. He was begging to be freed from the latter half - he couldn’t cook to save his life. Even though the notification of Jules bargaining with himself in your messages made you laugh, that wasn’t the only one that was making you smile. The first was the surprise that you and Jules planned for Kaia and Corey’s upcoming combined Bach and Bachelorette this weekend. Second, was Jules and his terrible negotiation skills. Finally, surprisingly, was Davi.

You weren’t going to divulge too much information, scared you might kill whatever was budding between you and Davi but the image of Davi’s smile flashed through your mind and you couldn’t help but let one form on your own face. You placed your elbows on the coffee table and cupped your chin, eyeing every bit of the teacher’s lounge to avoid Kaia’s amused expression. If you looked at her you knew you would spill all the tea, way too easily and way too soon. You didn’t have much to tell but Kaia wanted to know what the dating scene was like. Kaia and Corey had been together for years, so you indulged her with the good, but mostly bad, details of dating.

Kaia took a long sip of her coffee and you finally met her eyes that peered over the edge of the espresso she habitually drank. She was a polished, youthful woman. Her honey blonde hair framed her face which complemented her tanned skin and her eyes held a sparkle that was nothing short of mischievous. Her face was flush today and her cheeks were more red than usual. She looked tired but that came with planning an entire wedding while also wrangling kids as a full time job.

You laughed nervously and pulled the sleeves of your cardigan around your hands. You only had a few minutes to bring up the date but you needed validation, desperately. It wasn’t a bad idea to get to know Davi, right?

You assumed that when you became a teacher there would be an air of importance and sophistication when you sat down in the break room - talking about the kids, their work, the helicopter parents and so on. Yet the only thing that changed was your age because there you were, gripping coffee like a young high schooler about to admit that you like someone to your best friend.

“Okay, what is it?” Kaia gestured a “c’mon” motion with her hand. She sniffled a bit before taking another sip of her coffee.

“I think I’m going to a match.” You confessed and she wiggled her shoulders in excitement.

“Again?! How did Jules convince you to do that.” Kaia exclaimed loudly. The other teachers in the lounge eyed the two of you with distaste, as they usually did. The two of you were the youngest educators and were attached at the hip from the moment you met. Where there was one, there was the other. Especially with her class being across the hallway.

“He didn’t, Davi did. It’s nothing serious.” You assured her and a small part of yourself, too.

“No way. ” Kaia placed her palms on the table and slid in closely as if you had just told her the most outrageous thing. Her eyebrow curled at you and you suddenly realized you needed to clarify.

“You’re telling me that it isn’t serious but you are freely walking into a football match and planning to drink, again?” She leans forward before continuing, “Are you going to fuck him?”

“No!” You laughed. “That was not on my mind at all. I just wanna get to know him.”

“That's the lamest answer ever. Nothing serious, sure. Will it be serious enough that you tell Jules?”

“Why would I tell Jules, what do you mean?” You scrunch your eyebrows together in confusion.

“Jules plays with his cousin, see if you can find out more about him.”

“I don’t know….” You admitted, “I don’t want people in my business.”

Kaia eyed you and waited for you to be direct about who you didn’t want in your business but she wasn’t going to hold her breath for that. She knew you didn’t want Jules to know.

“Why?” She questioned

“That’s weird to ask Jules to ask his teammate about his cousin.” You said and began gathering your things to head to your class room. “Like I said, nothing serious and that’s what social media is for. You could find out everything you need to know.”

Kaia rolled her eyes but followed suit and grabbed her own bag but as she rose, she had to grab the table to steady herself. Her hand immediately went to her stomach and her entire neck turned red. She winced for a moment before standing up.

“Are you okay?” You said as you walked towards her and placed the back of your hand on her forehead.

“I’ve had this weird cold for a while. It’s probably the flu.” Kaia swatted your hand away and you poked at her side for that.

“Have you been to the doctor?”

“It’s a cold. Not a death sentence.”

“You are not allowed to be sick this weekend. If you don’t find a way to the damn doctor I’m going to drag you there.”

“And if you don’t find a way to get more information about Davi, I’ll do it myself.” She matched your snark and finished gathering her stuff. “There’s no way I’d miss my own bachelorette party.”

She looped her arm through yours and once again, you were sent backwards in time to when you were just a girl in highschool, walking with your best girlfriends and thinking of the future. The slightest thought of Kaia in her wedding dress sent a bubble of emotions through your chest and up into your throat, it was a daily occurrence but it never became easier. You loved her and Corey, dearly. You found family with them. Even though you weren’t in the wedding, which you were happy to support from the crowd, you had the liberty of working with Jules to throw their joint Bachelor and Bachelorette parties.

The process of planning, organizing, and meticulously preparing for all of the friends flying in was left to you. Despite yours, Kaia, and Corey’s protest, Jules was footing the bill. You had to lie more than once about charging his credit card. He admitted he didn’t check his accounts, because, “that’s what my adviser is for” so it was easy to get away without exposing yourself. He would scold you and actually throw a fit - a harsh criticism of the audacity of you to even begin to think of paying for anything when you were with him. After the criticism, you would be met with a dramatic sulk from Jules but it never lasted long. He never stayed mad at you, not for too long.

“I wouldn’t let you, either. Even if it’s to hold your hair back for a good ole puke and rally.”

“Ugh, god. Just the thought of alcohol makes me want to vomit.” She admitted with a little grimace. “If I get through the day, I’ll be good. Nothing a home remedy can’t fix.”

“It would be quicker if you went to the doctor, Kaia.” She unhooked her arm and stepped across the hall to her closed door. She bent down to unlock and waved you away once more. The shrill of the school bell sent a jolt of exhaustion through you - a weekend without rest was not the best experience but you couldn’t deny the fun you had. Internally, you agreed with Kaia. If you could make it through the day, it would smooth over.

“Yeah yeah.”

—

Candace slept naked and unbothered, her long limbs spilling out from underneath the covers. Candace barely stirred as he moved around the bedroom and got ready for the day. He never missed a run before going to training. It was an early morning for Jules but that was normal,

Jules thought that the sex would take his mind off of it all: the loss, the frustration, you. You and Davi, especially. That hadn't happened at all. Instead every kiss, every slight of Candace’s fingertips on his skin felt so wrong. Every whispered “I love you.” that fell from her lips while they had sex felt empty and slightly jarring. There was a visceral feeling of betrayal that he couldn’t shake. Was it a betrayal to you or a betrayal to Candace? In the midst of all the huffs and moans, Jules realized that he didn’t consider Candace’s feeling first - which was the most fucked up thing because there he was, deep inside her and not having an ounce of consideration for her feelings. Instead he was only thinking of you.

It shouldn’t have bothered Jules and he knew it enough to repeat it as a mantra but it still did. He could not pinpoint the issue with what he saw when he looked up at you, standing there in a Barca shirt and smiling at a man. Truthfully it was the same smile you gave everyone, but Jules felt it should’ve been reserved from him. Not Davi. As foolish as it was, he didn’t want to see you be happy with someone else. He didn’t want to watch from afar while your eyes crinkled as you laughed wholeheartedly or see you grab another man’s arm the way you did with his out of excitement, or to see the warm gaze you gave him with your undivided attention - your soft eyes were a window into your soul and he wanted to be the one who discovered all of you. He didn’t want to share that. When it came to you, there was no sharing. Jules realized half way through his run, that he couldn’t fight the fact he truly and madly wanted you. As he approached the steps back to his place and skimmed over a text from Candace saying she made it back home, he opened the thread and texted you - opting to tell you that you were being taken to dinner instead of having a home cooked meal.

Jules: I leave for fashion week tomorrow but I’ll be back Thursday evening. Want to do dinner tonight?

You: That works. What time?

Jules: I’ll pick you up

You: why? then you’d have to bring me home, too.

Jules: Trust me

You: when you say trust me I immediately can’t, what are we doing instead of dinner?

Jules: Going to dinner at your favorite spot

You: Jules!! You didn’t have to do that 🥺

The thought of you smiling made his heart skip a beat as he began to respond but saw those three dots appear on the screen, so he waited.

You: you still have to cook for me eventually

—

You had all of an hour to change and sit on the couch before Jules impatiently rang your doorbell and placed you in a long overdue hug. Jules inhaled a deep before stepping away with a sigh, his eyes scanning your outfit with a tut. It wasn’t a new dress but it was new to him. You felt a wave of insecurity run through you as you crossed one foot over the other and placed your hands on your hips. Jules was a fashion snob but you cared enough about looking presentable and feeling good. It was hard to tell if that fit into Jules expertise half the time and right now you didn’t want to be told that this cute dress wasn’t the right outfit.

“What?”

“Why aren’t you dressed?”

“I am! All I need is my shoes.”

“You’re going to make us late, oh mon dieu.” Jules' accent was thick when he spoke French and it was a pleasure to hear. There were so many things about him that you admired and simply adored - but one of those things you could appreciate the most was his incredible ability to switch between multiple languages.

“Just give me a second, seriously. Don’t be so dramatic.” You turned on your heels and did a small jog across your apartment and turned the corner. Jules’ eyes trailed the length of your legs all the way up to your ass and back down again with a feverish frustration. He groaned and forced himself to think of anything other than your dress or how the bottom of it reached his favorite part of your body: the sculpted by God himself shape of your muscular, brown thighs and how it supported your natural, large, and ever so tempting to touch, ass. His mind wondered what your ass would feel like, knowing that with the size of his hands he could palm both cheeks easily. The same ease he would have lifting you up and carrying you across any distance if you locked your legs around him, all while palming and squeezing every part of your ass. If he was given the opportunity, he would savor it. Jules would leave you satisfied, but he would leave you wanting more. Words failed him more than a few times in his life but his actions never did - no woman could say he was a selfish lover in bed. He took pride in everything and every girl he did. There were no words to describe how much pride he took in you without even having a taste of you yet.

Jules was forcefully thrown back into the reality of standing on your foyer, waiting on you. There was an echo of thuds, which he knew to be shoes, and a yell from you promising to be ready soon. He rolled his eyes but the brightening screen of your cell phone caught his attention. Your YSL bag was sitting atop the small table with all of the contents strewn around it, the phone was among the mess. He collected each item carefully, placing it in your bag. It was the least Jules could do to speed up the process, he thought. It wasn’t at all because he wanted an excuse to look at your phone - he wasn’t that kind of guy, he thought to himself as he picked up the phone and read the Instagram message.

thatsdavif: Thanks for Friday, I had fun! 😘

“Ready.” You announced with a satisfying spin on the balls of your heels. Jules' head whipped up and nodded. His demeanor changed drastically in the last five minutes you saw him and he said nothing as he handed you the now packed purse. You thanked him for getting your things and thanked him for opening your door but he remained silent.

Each attempt to strike up a conversation failed and you weren’t sure how dinner was going to go considering you had to hash out a few more details for the trip this weekend. You sighed aloud, not caring that he would be aware of your annoyance. As wise as he was, Jules still was a man who could act like a little boy. You weren’t the type to force a man to open his mouth and you weren’t starting now. Instead of talking, you resorted to scrolling through your social media feed and then checked your messages. You awed at the photos that Davi sent you and liked the message of his gratitude. You recommended a few spots that were tourist friendly and a few hidden gems of the city. The photos of his adventures made you crave the upcoming trip even more.

youruser: I can’t wait for the next match. I think I finally know all the chants lol

—

Dinner was awkward but you didn’t allow you to not indulge in the delectable food. If he wasn’t going to address whatever bothered him, Jules could stay mad. When you pushed him, he immediately pulled away. So you stopped doing so. You listened carefully as the waitress told you about the soup of the day and about the wine that would be paired with your meal. It all sounded amazing and smelled it, too. Jules thanked the waitress with a small smile and then focused his attention on nothing at all while fidgeting with his hair.

“Jules.” You said, gently but with a stern undertone. “Did I do something? Was it because I was late?”

“No, no.” A lie, a lie, he thought. “Stress, that’s all.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I’m sorry. I’m being so rude.”

“It’s okay, we all have those days. At least you have some time off.”

“Can I be honest? I’ve never been so ready to get away from work before. I’m just so exhausted.”

He laughed sheepishly then smiled at you and you smiled back, knowing he would have the time of his life at the resort.

“Just think about it: endless drinks, the pool, the yacht and a surprise from moi.”

“A surprise? What did you do?”

“That defeats the point of the surprise.” You reminded him with a straight face.

He began to argue but was cut off by a sudden shrill of his phone ringing - it was Candace. All of the energy you brought into him seemed deflated in an instant. He looked at you for a moment and you nodded to let him know you understood. There was a distinct pain in your chest seeing her name, being reminded of her. You couldn’t hate the girl even if you tried. But, it was hard to like someone who held onto the same man as you and with more access than you will ever have. Jules’ previous relationships were not on your mind as much as this particular one was. It was hard to place the emotion but it was still there, nonetheless.

“I’ll be back,” he said to you and he stood up and began speaking in hurried Spanish.

You fiddled with the menu aimlessly and checked the time. You examined your nails and reread each possible combination of the dish you were considering as your next course. There was an unmistakable chill in the air, making you rub at your bare arms as you checked over your shoulder to find your friend. He was pacing slowly but his hands were animated as he spoke. A sigh escaped your mouth as your gazed returned to the table when a waving hand caught you midway.

Who was that? You thought as you politely waved back. She stood, placing her napkin on the table and sauntered long strides over to you. The table of girls eyed you curiously - it was the WAGs. The wives and girlfriends of Jules' teammates, the ones from the suite during El Clasico. For a moment your heart stopped. You scanned the group of them, hoping and praying that you didn’t see Candace’s face. You didn’t, thankfully. But you were met with judgemental glares, dismissive looks, and a literal head shake. Oh my fucking god, you panicked.

“I swear you get prettier and prettier every single time I see you mija.” Inĩgos’s wife complimented. You accepted her hug and tucked your hair behind your ears before clasping your hands behind your back.

“Thank you, same to you. You look stunning.”

It was true. When you saw her last she mentioned that she had a baby only a few weeks prior. You couldn’t tell then and surely couldn’t tell now.

“I thought you were Candace for a split second, but I’d recognize you from a mile away. What are you up to?” Her smile was genuine and she was as sweet as can be but in your mind, her loyalty lies with Candace and this whole thing looked terrible. You were 75% sure Candace knew you were at dinner with Jules but no one else knew that. No one knew how innocent it was - they didn’t know your relationship with Jules.

“Just eating with our friends.”

“Oh? What friends?”

“No one that you know but he’s close with Jules and I work with his wife.”

“The blonde girl, right? Kaia?”

“Uh…yeah, her.” You bit your lip, unsure of where to take the conversation. It was painfully silent before she spoke again.

“I hope they make it in time. This kind of place is a real pain in the ass when it comes to timing. They charge an arm and a leg for cancellations.” She whispered as if you and Jules weren’t seated at a small table for two. There was no way anyone else was at your dinner party, she was allowing you to save face.

“I bet, I should probably go check and see where they are now. It was good to see you again.” You hugged her once more and nearly tripped over your own heels to get to the ladies room.

—

“Candace, please calm down.”

“Do not tell me to calm down. Are you fucking her?” She yelled once more, her voice shrill and almost deafening in Jules’ ear.

“No, Candace.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re such a liar.” She spat. Jules tilted his head back and ran a palm down his face with an exasperated sigh.

“Are you going to believe what you saw or are you going to believe what I’m telling you?” He countered. Jules knew how it looked and how it sounded but he was being honest. Jules had never slept with you.

“Do you know how embarrassing this is?”

“What are you going on about, Candace? I told you I was going to dinner with a friend.”

“You didn’t say you were going to dinner with her!”

“What’s that supposed to mean? It’s the same thing.”

“No it’s not. Not when you are so obvious about wanting to fuck her.” His heart stopped for a moment but she continued, “not only are you a liar you aren’t even a good one.”

“I have never slept with her.” He reiterated through a clenched jaw.

“Right and my names Lionel Messi and I won a World Cup. Fuck you.” She spat before hanging up. Jules went back into the restaurant with as straight of a face as he could manage - he wasn’t sure if he was relieved or embarrassed or upset. He rubbed at his jaw and was surprised to see the table empty as he pulled out his chair. He scanned the restaurant to see where you could have gone but then he saw exactly what sparked Candace’s meltdown. The group of girls at the table against the wall, tucked into a more secluded corner of the dining room who were watching him like a hawk.

You tried to fight the tears but they still came. You dotted away at your tear ducts, trying to cry silently and not mess up your makeup in the process. Luckily, there was a powder room and then the actual stalls. You settled yourself into the one furthest stalls away from the door that was not the handicapped accessible stall. You would never be able to show your face again if they saw you bawling like this. Even though it was innocent, it still looked guilty. You still felt guilty. You didn’t care what they had to say but you did care if the word got around about you. As soon as you found an ounce of comfort in the team’s graces, you were losing it. Any hope of getting to know more about Davi vanished. Had you ruined your chance before you even got one?

Your phone rang incessantly from your purse and you wiped your tears without even checking to see who was calling you.

“Hello?” You sniffled into the receiver.

“Oh my god are you crying?” Kaia yelled and you wished you hid it better. “You can’t cry right now because I’m crying right now.” She insisted.

“Why are you crying?”

“Please tell me why you’re crying or else I’m going to freak out.

“Kaia!”

“What?!”

“What the hell is going on? Are you okay, is Corey?”

“Where are you, I don’t know what to do!”

“Kaia, please take a deep breath and tell me what’s going on. I’m just having dinner, it’s nothing.”

“I took a pregnancy test.” She whispered. Your mouth flew open and you could hear her shushing you.

“Oh my god. Is it positive?”

“I can’t look at it. I’m too scared. You need to come over here right now.” You pulled the phone away from your head and looked at the time - it was late but you could still get some decent rest if you convinced Jules to leave at this instant.

“Okay, okay. I’ll be there soon.” You wiped at your face, cleaned up your mascara, and washed your hands before approaching the door. You forced yourself to not think about how it could look with you storming out the bathroom the way you were but Kaia was more important than anyone’s opinion. She sounded so unsure and that was unnerving to you - your head strong and assuring friend was falling to pieces over a piece of plastic that she was too scared to flip over. Facing your reality was nothing compared to hers.

You told Jules that you needed to go to Kaia’s apartment, immediately. Majority of the time she was at Corey’s but the fact that you asked to be taken to her place was enough for Jules to know something serious was going on. He handed you the keys and told you he’d meet you after he paid for the portion of the meal you guys actually got to enjoy together.

You were halfway to Kaia’s when Jules’ hot and heavy hand landed on your bouncing leg, restricting you from the habitual bouncing you were doing. His other hand was doing all the work as he turned the wheel, the veins in his forearm flexing with each movement of his wrist. You sighed out an apology

“Everything will be okay, yeah?” He said as he slowed to stop at an intersection. Jules leaned over to get a better look at you. You made yourself nod but your heart was thumping so hard you were scared he could hear it. Jules' nails were cut low and manicured and where you used to tease him about it, you were now thankful because his grip was so strong. His grip tightened and he asked, “Say it with me.” Jules’ eyes were locked on yours and for a brief moment, you thought his eyes dropped to your lips.

“Yeah, it’s all going to be okay.”

“Good.” He patted your thigh and he took his hand away and placed it on the wheel as if it wasn’t ever on you at all. As if his hand hadn’t lit the match to an absolutely insane of validation to daydreams you suppressed. It was like taking another piece of your sanity along with it.

“I’m sorry about dinner.” You said reaching for the door handle but Jules was already out of the car and moving to open your door.

“It’s fine.” He replied.

“I’m sorry, I know this isn’t how you planned for your night to go.”

“It’s okay.”

“I’ll pay you back for driving me across town.” You mumbled and leaned over the seat to grab your purse and step out of the car. Jules closed the door once you were firmly planted on both feet in front of him, grabbing your fidgeting hands into his own.

“I just said, it’s okay.” He said with a deep resonance that made you hot all over. You couldn’t even maintain eye contact with him but he continued on, unphased by it. “Don’t make me repeat myself. It’s always fine. Especially when it comes to you.”

You squeaked out an “okay” and Jules pulled you in for a hug before shrugging off his coat and putting on your shoulders. He placed a gentle but quick kiss on your forehead before reminding you to text him to keep him updated. You were barely up the drive way before Kaia opened the door and practically fell over trying to get you inside quickly.

taglist 🔖 | @queenshikongo3 @abiigaiil1234 @hopefulromantic1 @christianpulisic10 @vile-harlot @02wrldz @milflieutenant @savecharlosfromferrari @jasmindaughteroftheworld @meanwhilesomewhereelse @leilaxaliel @4uraxo @sinflowersugar

#football fanfic #football fic #football one shot #football x reader #jules kounde #jules kounde x reader #jules kounde x y/n #jules kounde fic #jules kounde imagine

95 notes · View notes

wavesmp3 · 6 months

Text

[kmg] morning at the edge of time

pairing: mingyu (svt) x reader genre: friends to lovers + hinted fwb + angst + mainly just a mess of a flash fic wc: 2.2.k warnings: perhaps a little swearing but other than that none!

when you wake up that morning, you say some lame joke. he laughs, and a siren goes off in the distance. you listen to that over him.

it doesn’t take long to pack his things up. in fact, it takes so much less time than you had both planned. you still have an hour before you have to be at the station.

he zips up the final piece of luggage, an old brown duffel bag that’s filled to the brim. the one you have to tug by the front pocket to get it to close all the way. you fight back something bitter coming up in your throat. it’s one of the same bags he brought on his way here. you remember watching him leave then too.

“so,” he says finally, standing up from the zipped duffle bag and shoving his hands in his pockets. a boyish little habit that makes you feel like you’re both still 20, finding your footing in this brand new and bright place, holding onto each other and begging the other not to miss home too much. when did you stop missing home? when did he start? “do we have a little time on that schedule of yours for coffee?”

he gestures to the legal pad behind you, a bright yellow paper with your scribbled schedule made in a stressed hurry the night before. a joke, you realize belatedly once you register the sound from between his lips as a laugh. you feel so suddenly exhausted with it hanging in the air. you shrug, “i guess.”

he grins. and you remember being 13 with him by your side. you ignore the shaky feeling in the corner of your eyes.

–

the train ride is so long, you think an hour in. how many more? you almost ask before remembering how he’s asleep. you stare at him. there are lines across his forehead and around his eyes that weren’t there a couple years ago. last year you found a gray hair right behind his left ear. you look for that sitting here.

he wakes up just as your finger finds it.

he squints and yawns at the same time. not even registering your hand shoved in his hair, your face two breaths from him. “morning.”

he jumps in his seat. your fingers lose the hair.

“what are you doing?” he asks, voice muddled by the sleep. you know this voice. you used to wake up next to it every morning. there’s a lump in your throat suddenly that chokes down every other emotion you would rather be feeling.

“i was looking for your gray hair.”

he perks up. “do i still have it?”

you want to smile at this. the way he embraces this old age, with open arms and a big bear hug. the way mingyu does with everything. fearless and expectant. like he’s been waiting for it, for you. there was a time when you were the one in his embrace. you want to smile at it, him. but you don’t. or maybe, it’s that you can’t.

you nod. “i think it’s grown a bit actually.”

he hums, absently, craning his neck to see something you don’t care to see. “i’m gonna use the bathroom. meet in the dining car?”

you nod, he leaves, and for the first time since stepping on this train you can fucking breathe.

—

“doesn’t it feel like the train ride gets longer each time you go back?” he asks.

you squint at him, picking at a potato before shoving it in your mouth. “not really.”

he shakes his head. “that’s cause you never go.”

and you know he doesn’t mean it with malice, but it’s a stab either way. you scoff. home is many things. it’s where you were born. where your parents live. where you met mingyu. home is many things. but it’s mainly just a tiny town full of memories and people you’d rather forget.

“i’m sorry,” he offers half-heartedly, noticing your silence a second too late.

you try your best to shake it off. you don’t want to ruin this day.

instead you say, “we should get dessert.”

he smiles, big and wide. all teeth showcased right in front of you. somehow, it breaks your heart.

—

“my parents sent me this a while back.” mingyu says, showing you the screen of his phone.

it’s a picture of when you both were young. 10 or maybe 8 years old. sitting together at the beach, covered in sand and smiling. “i remember that day.” you mutter to him, taking the phone from his hand and staring at the photo. “you made a sand castle, and let me stomp on it.”

“gosh,” mingyu starts with a fake sigh, “you’ve always been an asshole huh?”

you roll your eyes, pushing his phone back towards him. “it was a shit castle anyways.”

—

you and mingyu’s family have been friends since his family moved to town. you must’ve been 4 the first time you met him. you don’t really remember that evening. but you do remember riding your first amusement park ride with him.

“i know mom,” mingyu says into his phone. you watch the end of his call. he picks at the collar of his shirt. you recognize it as the one his dad gave him for his birthday last year. you wonder if he did that on purpose. he hangs up the phone and gives you a look.

“hey,” he quips, snapping his fingers in your face, “where are you?”

he knows you so well. “was just thinking.”

“about?”

you push your chin out a bit, glancing at the scenery running past the window beside you. “i can’t believe it’s been 2 years since i moved from home and joined you in the city.”

“it’s been 6 years for me.”

“i know.” you say, understanding the gravity. the city has this way of pushing you in. like a trap you step into knowingly. “when you moved here for school, i…”

your eyes move back to his face. he tilts his head, waiting for you. “you what?”

you inhale, reaching for the napkin in your lap and folding the corners in. “i don’t know, i just never imagined that i’d also move.

he scrunches his entire face. “be honest, did you miss me so much that you moved just to be closer to me?”

you take the napkin in your lap and throw it in his face. he catches it snickering. “but seriously,” you start, exhaling and watching him fold the napkin back up and place it on the table, “i don’t know if i would’ve moved if you hadn’t done it before me.”

“and now look at you,” his lips curl upwards, “you love the city.”

you match the motion. “i love the city.” more than you ever thought you would.

“how long do you think you’ll stay there?”

he asks it casually, but the question makes your heart stop. it makes this bile that’s been sitting in your gut ever since mingyu told you for the first time that he was thinking about moving back home rise up again and burn the back of your throat.

you cough. “forever hopefully.”

he gives you this look. this raised brow and side eye look that says you don’t mean that. that mocks you and means to tell you: you have no idea what you’re talking about. eventually, you’ll do what you’ve done our entire lives and follow me back home too.

“i mean it.” you say steadily. he doesn’t flinch. neither do you.

“home is different now, you know–”

you scoff. how many times can you and him have the same conversation.”

“–minghao doesn’t even really come into town that much anymore and–”

“stop it, mingyu.”

he bites the inside of his cheek. “why won’t you even try?”

—

you don’t like to think about minghao. the three years you spent loving someone who just up and left. you don’t like to think about him because there’s a part of you that isn’t sure if you ever really got over him.

—

“it’s just time.” mingyu says, voice soft and quiet. “i think it’s just time for me to go back home.”

the train rattles a bit. you stop your shoulders from shaking. “why?”

he just shakes his head and sighs. “it just feels right.”

the words are like a splinter, wedging itself into the pad of your index finger.

“i’m sorry.” he tells you.

you go to the bathroom and pretend not to hear it.

—

you stare at your face in the mirror. you never liked the long train rides; there’s a grayness evident in your face. and it makes you think about mingyu’s gray hair that’s grown longer. it makes you think about the first time found it.

shortly, after you had moved to the city, you and mingyu’s friendship had taken a different form. nights spent laughing turned to something deeper, something blurry and messy. a kiss, a confession, a night spent together. you’ve always loved mingyu. he had been your best friend for so many years. and so it just felt so natural that your friendship would take such a shape. it didn’t feel awkward or hard or forced. it just felt like you loved him and it felt comfortable and honestly, just a tiny bit, it–

it felt like home.

—

the first thing he says when you retake your seat across from him is: “do you think you’ll ever forgive me for moving back?”

you rest your elbows on the table, hold up your chin with your hands, and stare at him. his eyes look so brown. inhaling, you say, “eventually.”

he chuckles lightly. “we had some good times together in the city.”

you smile, and it feels like a breath of fresh air. “we really did.”

“and our friendship has nothing to do with distance.”

“i know.” you shrug slightly. “i’m just going to miss doing life with you by my side.”

he frowns, ever so slightly. “you know i’ll always lov-”

the train screeches, masking his voice, his confession with a sound so unpleasant and yet somehow better. you know what he has to say. you don’t want to hear it.

you stare at your finger, where his words pierced your skin. you don’t see the small stick of wood anymore. it’s been sucked in. bitterly, you think, there will always be a piece of you inside me.

—

the train stops in your town eventually. you both grab his bags and head out onto the platform.

you sit on a bench just outside waiting for his parents to pick you guys up. it’s colder up here than it is in the city. it nips and bites at the bits of your skin that’s exposed. mingyu pulls out a scarf from one of his bags and wraps it around your shoulders.

you recognize the color of it and the pattern. you gave this scarf to him 8 years ago. you can’t believe he still has it. you can’t believe he lugged it with him to the city. you can’t believe he lugged it back.

you look at him, really look at him, and realize how terrified you are. you’ve spent so much of your life with mingyu. you don’t want to remember what life looks like without him.

“you’re my best friend in the whole world.” you tell him, placing a hand over his.

the wind picks up, picking and poking at your eyes. you feel a tear fall down your cheek.

you know he’s sad to say goodbye to you and to the city, but you also know that more than that, he’s happy. excited to be back home and closer to his friends and family. you can see it in his eyes. you can see it in his gray hair sticking up with the wind.

“i’m just not ready to come back yet otherwise i would.”

he looks at you, like he really pities you. you hate it. “you did come back with me.”

you shake your head. “otherwise, i would stay.”

he pulls you into a hug. you relish in the warmth. you’ve been in this position many times before. but never like this. you aren’t in college anymore. you know you’ll never be this close to him again. and maybe that’s what makes this all so painful. maybe that’s why when you pull away from the hug you catch a glint of something sharp in his hand. you look down at your torso and see your entire body carved open, with his hands digging inside, searching for the words you stole from him. maybe it wasn’t a splinter. maybe it wasn’t an accident. but why won’t he let you have that at least? why does he have to leave and take every trace of him with him?

a car pulls up. mingyu’s father. you recognize the paint job on it. you both stand. he faces you facing him.

“are you happy?” you ask him.

he smiles, wrinkles appearing all over his face. “i can’t wait.

you help him and his father pack everything into the car. you say hi to his mother. she asks you to stay for dinner; you tell her how you have to get back to the city.

you say your final goodbye to mingyu. and watch his dad’s car pull away. you don’t know when you’ll see him next. and it’s only once the car is entirely out of view, do you realize you’re still wearing the scarf you gifted him. you take one last inhale of your hometown and board the train back

192 notes · View notes

spookyghostbunny · 7 months

Text

Throws this fic at you then runs

🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼🌼

The circus members couldn't help but to feel sorry for their new little jester. Everybody who enters the digital realm has similar reactions, but Pomni was a constant walking ball of anxiety. You couldn't blame her. The overly bright colors alone were enough to drive anyone insane.

Ragatha was absolutely furious. Jax had played yet another cruel prank on her, and she was out for revenge. On her way to confront the prankster, she spotted Pomni's picture. Poor Pomni. Even her own door displayed how fearful she was. It made Ragatha's digital heart ache more for the girl.

Completely forgetting about Jax, she lifted her hand and delivered a few hesitant knocks. "Pomni! It's me, Ragatha! I was uh- wondering if you... wanted to talk? I understand if you don't! That's completely cool, and I respect if you didn't want to! You don't really know me, and you probably want to be alone-"

Ragatha's rambling was cut off when she noticed a pair of nervous colorful eyes staring up at her.

Huh.

Were Pomni's eyes always that cute?

Ragatha flushed and shook her head. "Oh! Hey, Pomni! M-may I come in?"

Pomni nodded, leaving the door open for the doll as she went back inside. Ragatha followed, sitting down on the bed next to the smaller girl.

After a few minutes of awkward silence, Ragatha tried to strike up a conversation. "So! How... How are you doing?"

Pomni glanced up at her before looking back down at her hands. "I- I don't know anymore... I'm still convinced this is a t-terrible nightmare.... Sh-shouldn't I have w-waken up by n-now?" Ragatha could feel Pomni trembling beside her.

Ragatha's eyes soften as she puts a hand on Pomni's shoulder. "Hey, it's ok, new stuff. I understand how you feel... We all do. You'll get used to things eventually and-"

"BUT I DON'T WANT TO GET USED TO THIS! I WANT TO LEAVE- NEED TO LEAVE! I CAN'T STAND BEING HERE A SECOND LONGER!" Pomni curls up into a ball, hiding her face in her arms. "I just want to go home..."

Ragatha was surprised by Pomni's outburst. Each word sent another sharp pang through her heart. Not wanting to make things worse, she quickly thought of ways that could help her friend? feel better.

A silly idea popped into her mind. Hmm... This might just work.

Carefully as to not startle her more, Ragatha pulled the jester onto her lap. Pomni looked at her with a mixture of confusion and surprise. "R-Ragatha?"

The doll smirks, forming her hands into claws and wigging them above Pomni.

The anxious jester squeaked when she realized what was about to happen. "Wait! Ragatha- Nohohoho!" She immediately giggles when Ragatha starts scribbling her sides. She weakly kicks and squirms, but she doesn't put up much of a fight.

Ragatha's smirk melts into a fond smile. This was the first time she saw a genuine smile on Pomni's face. And her laughter is adorable! The doll just had to hear more of it. "Aww! Is the newbie ticklish?~ Tickle tickle, Pomni!~" She teased, moving down to squeeze Pomni's hips.

Pomni's giggles turned into full blown laughter. "Nahahaha! D-dohon't tehehehease!" Pomni cried, hiding her blushy face in her hands. She was actually starting to feel a bit better. It felt nice to laugh and let go after feeling so many negative emotions.

"Why? Does it make the tickles worse?~"

"Yehehes!!" Pomni squeals, lightly bapping at the doll's plush arms.

Ragatha just laughed. Pomni was truly adorable.

5 minutes later Ragatha slows her tickling until she finally comes to a stop. She holds Pomni close, rubbing away the phantom tickles. "How are you doing now, Pom?"

Pomni snuggles against Ragatha, still feeling very giggly. "Fihihine.... Thank you."

"Anytime, new stuff."

They sat there cuddling and enjoying each other's company for a while.

Suddenly, Ragatha remembered something important. "Wanna help me get back at a certain rabbit?"

For the first time, Ragatha saw some mischief in Pomni's colorful eyes.

(You don't wanna know how difficult this was to write)

#roman writes things #the amazing digital circus #tadc #the amazing digital circus pomni #the amazing digital circus ragatha #tadc pomni #tadc ragatha #lee!pomni #ler!ragatha #the amazing digital circus tickles #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus jax

151 notes · View notes

mingtinys · 10 months

Text

Spiced Caramel and Rosemary

pairing : jeon wonwoo x gn!reader

fluff , humor , mutual pining , coffee shop !au , college!au , meet cute

warnings : language

word count : 2.7 k

requested ? no

a/n : i can't ever write oneshots in moderation. it's always 3k full standing fics. n e ways, dk best hype and wing man !!

Wonwoo has a routine. And while he doesn't consider himself to be a particularly rigid person, he doesn't often like to stray from it.

He isn't opposed to trying new things– the occasional night out with Seungcheol, karaoke at a bar downtown with Seungkwan, a new game with Chan; but he does find comfort in having a set schedule. Especially during weekdays. Wake up around nine. Go to classes until one. Grab lunch. Work out. And the most important part, be settled down with his laptop, textbooks, and notes by three, locked away in his favorite coffee shop with a subpar dark caramel cold brew in hand. Sure, it's not an award-winning cup-of-Joe by any means, but Wonwoo's always been a tad sentimental and considers the small shop his own little haven.

So, understandably, he's a bit irked when Seokmin flat-out refuses to negotiate on a study spot. Suggesting his own favorite shop a bit further from campus to work on their project. No matter how much Wonwoo vouches for his regular shop, Seokmin won't be deterred, insisting it's the only place he can actually focus at.

Ultimately, Wonwoo decides a little disruption to his routine is worth it if it'll provoke his normally restless partner into being studious for an hour or two.

"I promise, you're gonna love it!" He boasts. Wonwoo just hums in response.

It's no wonder he's never tried Seokmin's favorite spot, much less heard of it. The shop, known as "Local Brew," is tucked away in one of the many alleys in the maze that is the outskirts of campus. Unnoticeable unless you're already looking for it.

The outside is... definitely charming. Chipped brick overrun by moss and the occasional piece of chewed gum frame the glass entrance. The windows of which are scribbled over in neat, pretty writing. Vibrant pinks and yellows showcasing low prices, catchy promotions, and flowery doodles. Seokmin plows right through, sounding the ring of a bell.

A honeyed voice greets him immediately. "Seokmin! It's nice to see you again. Should I get the usual started?"

Wonwoo knows that voice. And subsequently, Wonwoo knows this is the point in which he is, for lack of a better word, absolutely and irrevocably fucked.

Seokmin however, marches on, blissfully unaware of how his friend's heart is in desperate need of some jumper cables. "Yes please, oh, and extra sweet!"

"You're gonna rot your teeth out one of these days, but you got it."

"You're the best," he sings.

"I see you brought a friend this time. What can I– Wonwoo?"

Wonwoo knows it's his turn to speak. But his lips can only form shapes of empty words, like a fish out of water gasping for air. He tries shaking his head, hoping the action will knock a brain cell or two together so he can form a sentence that isn't wholly embarrassing. Though the effects are like that of an Etch A Sketch and he turns up empty-headed again.

He clears his throat and pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, more of a nervous habit than an adjustment, and wings it. "Hi, Y/N, it's um, been a while."

It has in fact been two hours. Probably less.

Wonwoo's internally punching the walls right now. It's been a while? Is he serious? He literally saw you in class earlier. Honesty, could he sound more idiotic?

Your brow furrows and Wonwoo's just about to make a mad dash for the exit until your features soften and a grin tugs at the corners of your lips. "Yeah, I guess you could say so. Dr. Kang's class sure makes it feel that way, huh?"

Wonwoo forgets he's supposed to respond again, and the awkward stretch of silence that results is insufferable at best. He rushes out his next sentence. "I didn't know you worked here."

You happily nod. "Every Tuesday and Thursday. Sometimes weekends."

"I only come when Y/N's working," Seokmin reminds everyone of his presence. "They make the best coffee."

You visibly blush at that, "Ah, stop that. Seokmins easy to please, as long as it's sweet he's not too picky. I'd take his word with a grain of salt." Another pause. It's truly a wonder how Wonwoo manages to stay at the top of his class yet struggles to uphold a perfectly mundane conversation. He's stuck just marveling at you, cute and clad in your brown barista apron.

"So," you drawl out. "Were you looking to order anything?"

Right. He's at a coffee shop. He should order coffee. Wonwoo's eyes dart to the menu above your head, relieved he has an excuse to do something other than stand there like a deer in headlights.

"Sorry, it's his first time here." Seokmin whispers. Wonwoo is pretty sure he wasn't supposed to hear it, but his friend has never been great with subtlety.

"No worries, if you have any questions feel free to ask."

Why do you have to be so... radiant? Sweet. Patient. Kind. You. Geez, Wonwoo is down. Bad. Has been since the first day of class when you asked to borrow a pen. Even more so the second day when you took the empty seat next to him to return the utensil and never bothered getting up.

He nearly died when you asked for his number the following week. Claiming you'd need at least one friend in class to get through an entire semester of high-level calculus. Wonwoo isn't used to receiving the amount of attention you've invested in him. Usually, he finds a seat on the aisle and keeps to himself for the few classes he doesn't share with a friend. But you seemed to have no problem claiming him as your "calculus buddy" as you liked to call it, despite the multitude of empty seats you had to choose from.

And as much as Wonwoo doesn't want to be the fool that falls in love with the first person to show the slightest interest in him, he can't help but get a little giddy on the days he has calculus. The odds are stacked against him when it comes to his feelings for you. It's been two months since you asked for that pen, yet he still finds your presence warmer than the sun itself.

Though, at least he knows when he'll see you for class and can mentally prepare himself to not say something completely and utterly embarrassing for the hour you're next to him. But he's never considered the possibility of running into you beyond the walls of the mathematics building. So you can imagine the inner turmoil in his brain as he tries to formulate a way to get through this interaction with his ego unscathed.

"Uh, Wonwoo, you're holding up the line, buddy." Seokmin nudges him.

The line in question is just an elderly couple who seem like they couldn't care less about the wait. Rather caught up in surveying the pastry selection.

"Just get whatever you do at that other place," Seokmin suggests. Which is a genius idea, except another quick scan of the menu reveals you don't offer it.

Wonwoo looks to his friend pleadingly, "What did you get?"

Luckily, Seokmin is as perceptive today as he is sociable and extends Wonwoo a lifeline. "Why don't you just surprise him?" He says, which seems to pique your interest. "You can trust Y/N, that's how I found my favorite drink here!"

"I can do that!" Wonwoo isn't one for surprises. Though the excitement that’s radiating from your person at the proposition has Wonwoo agreeing instantly. "Any allergies or preferences?"

"No, just nothing too sweet, iced if you can."

You nod and scribble something down on a clear cup.

Seokmin pays, and Wonwoo couldn't be happier to hide away in a booth in the furthest corner of the room. He lets his head fall into his hands, propped up on the table by his elbows. That couldn't have gone any worse. Wonwoo groans as someone shuffles into the seat across from him. He peeks through his fingers at who it is.

Seokmin's chin is rested in his palms, elbows propping him up all the way across the table to lean in way too close to Wonwoo. Judging by the wide, knowing grin on Seokmin's face, there's no escaping his friend's inevitable prying curiosity.

"Sooo... how do you know, Y/N?"

"We have calculus together," Wonwoo says shortly, hoping to curve Seokmin off the topic. It doesn't work, of course.

"I see, I see," his friend nods, pauses, then says, "And how long have you had a crush on them?"

The blunt question sends Wonwoo sputtering, drawing the attention of nearby patrons as he slaps his chest, trying to regain his composure and lung capacity. He mutters out apologies with pink-tinged cheeks to the surrounding tables. Clearing his throat once more, Wonwoo glares back at his instigator, who's wiggling his eyebrows, a little too happy with himself.

"That long, huh?"

"I'm never coming back here with you."

"Oh come on," Seokmin whines. "It wasn't that bad."

"I'm writing my Will tonight. You'll never see or hear from me again. I'm going to live in the woods far, far, away from any life on earth. Become a hermit and– what?" Wonwoo deadpans, giving his friend an incredulous look upon noticing his expression of wild bewilderment.

"Nothing," Seokmin put up his hands in surrender. "It's just weird seeing you like this. I mean, I've never seen your brain actually malfunction like that before. Like, you really—"

"I'm leaving."

"—Okay, okay, sorry." He grins sheepishly. "You're really worked up over them, huh? It's endearing. I feel like I've seen a new side to you Wonny!"

Wonwoo just sighs, giving up completely on trying to stop his friend's teasing. It's better if he just endures it until he eventually moves on to another topic.

"So, how do you plan on asking them out?"

"I'm not."

"What!?" Seokmin loudly exclaims, and Wonwoo shushes him as all attention falls on their table once more. He speaks again, though this time in a whisper. "Why not?"

Wonwoo shrugs, "I dunno, they're just so lively and outgoing and confident. I doubt I'm even their type." It's not that Wonwoo lacks any or all confidence in his character. Contrary to what others may think, he's quite content with himself. Hasn't ever felt a need to alter his personality or conform to those around him for the sake of making friends.

But people like you should really be with... well... people like you. Like Seokmin or Mingyu or hell, even Joshua.

It's Seokmin's turn to glare at Wonwoo now. "Wonwoo, my friend, my buddy, my pal. I say this to you with unwavering, trustworthy, unbiased—" Wonwoo doubts that "—factual, one hundred percent, certainty. You are like, the perfect boyfriend."

Wonwoo scrunches his face up at that.

"I'm serious!" Seokmin slaps his hands down on the wooden table, making it rattle, and starts listing off traits with his fingers. "Wonwoo, listen, your boyfriend-ability potential is through the roof. You're smart, built, super attentive, have great bone structure, and you've got that shy, quiet, mysterious, gamer-guy charm to you. People really dig that nowadays."

Wonwoo chews at his lip. As over-the-top and exaggerated as his friend's dazzling reviews of his supposed "boyfriend-ability" may be, it really does wonders to boost the morale. It has Wonwoo's confidence soaring, a newfound determination burning in his chest. Maybe he will ask you out.

Until the air around their table shifts and a fluttering presence eclipses any short-lived ambition.

"Sorry for the wait," You're smiling down at Wonwoo, two plastic cups in hand. "It took a while to figure out what you might like. But then I remembered you usually have something with caramel every time you come to class. Though if you hate it I'm more than happy to remake something for you!"

You're blushing madly, but all Wonwoo can focus on is the fact you pay him enough attention from day to day to know the contents of his coffee order.

You set the cup down in front of him, then hand Seokmin his. "I hope you enjoy!"

Wonwoo's useless brain fails him once more. "You too."

You're off and back behind the counter before Wonwoo registers his mistake. That's like strike twelve for him at this point.

"Ah, young love." Seokmin interrupts Wonwoo's sulking, biting down on his straw with the corner of his mouth.

"Shut up."

Wonwoo picks up his cup and examines its contents. It's noticeably darker and thinner than Seokmin's, but he still can't really tell what exactly it is. However, you'd think the coffee was brewed with holy water and magic fairytale beans by the way Seokmins already sucked down half of his.

Wonwoo rotates the cup, squinting at the scribbles of black sharpie on the side. Dark roast, spiced caramel, rosemary, oat milk.

"Rosemary?" He reads, shooting a look at his friend who stops slurping on his own to shrug. "That's an odd flavor."

"I've learned not to question Y/N's expertise long ago, they know what you like even if you don't. It's sort of creepy." He visibly shudders.

"What's yours?"

"Dark chocolate, cherry, vanilla, and whole milk, extra sweet."

"Fruit? In coffee? That doesn't sound like it'd be good." Wonwoo frowns, suddenly doubting the efficacy of his own beverage.

"Shall I go tell Y/N you think they're a terrible barista then?"

"No!" Wonwoo answers a little too quickly and a little too loud. He clears his throat. "—I mean, no, no it's fine. I'm merely saying it's unique, is all."

Seokmin places his hand over Wonwoo's wrist and physically shoves the cup toward his lips, causing the straw to jab into his skin. "Ow!" He complains, swatting at his arm.

"Oh my God, just drink it. I promise it'll be better than whatever boring, run-of-the-mill, bean-water, you get from that other place."

Wonwoo frowns and grumbles, "It's not boring." But he knows that's far true.

Hesitantly, he takes a sip. The spiced caramel hits his tongue first. It's a warm flavor, a pleasant contrast to the drink itself being cold. Then the rosemary edges in with a strong, yet not too overpowering taste. The oat milk blends everything together smoothly and leaves a nice aftertaste.

"Wow," the word slips out. Wonwoo pulls the drink back to examine it again, eyes wide. It's easily the best thing he's ever tasted, far better than, as Seokmin put it, his usual run-of-the-mill order. Wonwoo can't even fathom how your mind came up with a drink so addicting. If God is real, then Wonwoo's positive they have a dazzling smile and work at Seokmin's favorite coffee shop.

"Good, right?" Seokmin grins.

"Amazing."

"You know, if you asked Y/N out they'd probably make your coffee any time you asked~"

That's a pretty convincing argument.

Wonwoo likes his routine. And he's quite fond of his regular coffee shop, so he still frequents there to study.

Except for Tuesdays and Thursdays.

And sometimes weekends.

"Hi, Wonwoo," you greet with your usual bright smile. "Same as usual?"

"Yes, please." He matches your smile, having finally recovered from the catastrophe that was his first visit. Ever since Seokmin let it slip how you'd been gushing about Wonwoo to him ever since you discovered they were friends, he's been feeling a little more confident.

"You know, if you ever want to try something new, I won't be offended." You narrow your eyes at him. But Wonwoo just shakes his head at you, chuckling.

"Eh, I try not to stray from what I already know too much."

"Oh, so that's why you haven't gotten rid of me as your calculus buddy yet." You quip.

"Among other reasons." He shrugs, lips pulling back into a toothy grin. Wonwoo fishes into his back pocket, pulling out his wallet to thumb through his cards.

"It's okay, it's on the house today."

Wonwoo looks up, brows furrowed. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah! I always give my favorite customers free coffee on Sundays." By the way your eyes quickly dart back at your other coworkers, Wonwoo doubts the validity of that.

"Well, I'll have to pay you back somehow."

"Next week's homework would be great!" You grin cheekily.

"Hmm," Wonwoo thinks for a moment, readjusting his glasses. "I would, but I haven't started it yet. Could I offer to take you out instead?"

"I would like that very much."

301 notes · View notes

art · 2 years

Photo

Creator Spotlight: @k-eke

My name is Kévin, but everybody calls me Kéké! I’m a 2D animator and illustrator, mostly drawing little bouncy animals and sharing them on the internet. I like cartoons and storytelling, trying to create stories where people can find themselves in, also trying to go further and develop stories that are rare in media, such as LGBTQ+ content, for example. I try to keep up with my 3DS to create my work and see how far I can go with it!

Below is our full interview with Kévin!

How did you get your start in animation?

I started animation back on September 4th, 2009, this is when I discovered Flipnote Studio on the DSi for the first time. I did try to animate before but solely on paper, and I had no knowledge about the medium at all, so it was an amazing discovery. I later became self-taught and could keep going by myself.

What is one habit you find yourself doing a lot as a creator?

I feel the habit that talks the most to me as a creator is communication. I feel it’s important to communicate with your public and fans to keep them updated and knowing how things are moving. It’s getting overwhelming to me the more I grow because the community is massive. Still, I keep up, and I thank many people for always updating me when something wrong happens (thieves, plagiarism, etc., etc.).

From idea to final piece, how long does it take for you to create something?

It all depends on the idea and process of the creation. For example, if my idea is just to animate a cat bouncing, this might take me a few minutes. Otherwise, if I want to animate 50 pigeons bouncing, this will take me around 5 hours or more! In general, an animation takes me less than a day or more if I’m busy on the side and can’t advance as much as I wish I could.

Have you ever had an art block? If so, how did you overcome it?

Art blocks often happen. I take them as good to rest and do something else. It’s not a must to draw/animate all the time or too often, and when it happens, I take it easy and try to entertain myself and see when it will be back. Also, I scribble sometimes just to feel like I’m still drawing but not with a point to reach a certain idea, just to let my hand go and make something silly. The mood can come back faster this way!

How do you use Tumblr to further your creativity?

I love Tumblr for the fact you can post 10 illustrations/GIFs as one whole post. This is not possible on other websites I know, so that was great for me to be able to make a compilation of GIFs and post it all there in one shot. It was really helpful and also allowed me to make a few little stories with this opportunity.

What is the hardest part of your process?

The hardest part is drawing on a DSi, 3DS literally! It’s so limited, with few colors (4 or 6 depending on the version), 2 or 3 layers, no zoom, and no options to make camera moves …… but I still love it haha. I’m so used to it that those don’t annoy me anymore, I accepted them, and people admire my art for it (I think!)

Have you ever wanted to dive into another medium before?

I did. Now I use TVPaint and Flash, toon boom more often, but in the end, I still come back to Flipnote Studio because it’s my favorite tool and program.

Who on Tumblr inspires you and why?

So many inspire me it would be hard to choose! But I did love Sarah Andersen, Owlturd comics a lot, visually and the humor. Also, the use of Tumblr to post multiple pages at once: it inspired me to try it as well!

Thank you for stopping by, Kévin! Check out more of Kévin’s work over at @k-eke!

#creator spotlight #artists on tumblr #gif maker #k-eke

2K notes · View notes

shatcey · 3 months

Text

START PAGE

Me myself can no longer find my posts when I need it, so I decided to combine them in some order for future reference.

I don't know Japanese, so I don't do translations. I can write, but I don't know English enough to try to write something more significant than regular posts. So I'm just giving some retellings and summaries, expressing my love and frustration… but mostly I'm just making jokes.

Currently reading (update 20/05/24):

IkePri (En): Clavis ; IkePri (JP): Yves (on skip, for reference) IkeVil (En): Liam ; IkeVil (JP): Ellis IkeVamp (En): Faust IkeSen (En): Kanetsugu IkeGen (JP): Kagetoki MidCin (En): on hold (try to get the stories from gatcha)

Ikemen Prince

Ikemen Vampire

Ikemen Villains (JP)

Ikemen Villains (EN)

Ikemen Sengoku

Ikemen Genjiden JP

Ikemen Revolution (archive)

Other games

Midnight Cinderella (on hold)

23/01 (Leo and Alyn)

Sid (so familiar) Sid (part 2)

Byron (love at first sight)

Albert (so cute) Albert (Benjamin) Albert

Love and DeepSpace (archive)

VA jp (Zayne) VA kr (Xavier) VA kr (Rafayel) VA kr (Caleb)

birthday Xavier (heart rate) Zayne loves me

Mystic Messenger and Ssum

Ray April Fool's DLC Seven

Comparison games

Wolfs Pets My heart on 11/11/23 Aggressively defensive

Faces of the games Birthday presents Familiar backgrounds

Sirius and Ibuki My fav smiles The same VA (how could it be?)

Purple eyes Villain's logic Drama Princess

...and grumbling

bad written story (Faust) time zones No luck (cards)

That's just not fair (Jude) I don't love you, Gilbert

...and my scribblings

Alternative prologue IkeVamp: Prologue Picture

IkeVil: Bread

IkePri: The brave one

41 notes · View notes

scarlettjohanssons-mistress · 1 year

Note

idk if requests are open but i was wondering if you could do a fanfic about lady lesso having a secret family

Family

Warnings: PURE fluff

Word count: 1.9 K

Pairing: Lady Lesso x Fem!Reader

Prompt: Leonora deserves a little love.

Requests: OPEN

[Main masterlist] [Charlize Theron characters masterlist]

It was known that evil could never have a happy ending.

At least, that is what has been taught for centuries and centuries, from generation to generation. It was unheard of to think that some villain, from any story, would return to a nice cabin with his family, after trying to poison a princess.

Any 'Ever' student could have that same thought about anyone belonging to the 'Never' school, incapable of love. And if the name of the dean of evil slipped into the conversation, the answer was an obvious and resounding NO.

While any human being with two eyes and a few centimeters of a brain could confirm that Lady Lesso is an extremely beautiful woman, they could also classify her as someone 'terrifying'; considering anyone brave who could spend more than five minutes with her, without being scared.

———————————————————————————

The weekend was slowly approaching, which made the redheaded woman extremely excited. She was already sick of her incompetent students, of Dovey's constant complaining, of the thousands upon thousands of papers waiting in her office to be reviewed, causing excruciating headaches.

Everything about to end…

Until Emma reached her office, opening the door a little and sticking her head out.

"Leonora?"

"What do you want?" the woman asked without taking her eyes off the exam in front of her. Anastasia, an incompetent who would fail her class for the second time.

“Clarissa requested your presence at the meeting”

The dean's eyes rolled wearily, making her disappointment known.

"Really? Why do you need my presence with… 30 minutes to go before the end of school hours?"

"I don't know, she didn't give me an explanation…"

Before Emma could begin to ramble, Lesso abruptly stood up from her chair and began to pace, hitting the ground next to Emma with her cane, causing the smaller woman to jump.

Quickly, Leonora walked to the room where the meeting was taking place, opening the doors violently, making her arrival known.

"Oh, Lesso," Dovey interrupted, "it's good that you're here."

Leonora didn't even deign to answer, she simply sat in her usual chair and with the help of her magic, materialized a notebook, to scribble and avoid getting bored.

It took her a few minutes to realize that she had brought into the meeting room the notebook she used for her most private matters. Full of vibrant colors and children's drawings.

With a quick movement, and with the eyes of some of her colleagues glued to the notebook, Leonora opened it, hiding the cover and beginning to draw, not listening to Dovey's chatter.

The meeting lasted forever, almost 3 hours after their usual time to leave; but when Dovey finally called the meeting to a close, Leonora was among the first to rise from her seat, until Dovey's voice reached her ears.

"Actually, Lesso, I need to talk to you."

With a great grunt, Leonora watched as her companions left the room, to be left alone with Dovey.

"What do you want?" asked Leonora tiredly

"Relax, I don't want to entertain you" Dovey turned her back on the redhead to take a small basket full of sweets and baked goods "I remembered that last week was Y/N's birthday, so I thought I'd give she her favorite desserts"

The basket reached Leonora's hands, who awkwardly gave a grimace, which she tried to pass off as a smile.

"Thanks suppose. I'll give it to her"

"All right. So… see you on Monday”

"See you on Monday" and just as the redhead walked back to the exit, Dovey's voice interrupted her again.

"By the way, tell Rose she did a good job." The brunette pointed at Leonora's notebook with her eyes, drawing a grunt from the redhead.

"Whatever"

———————————————————————————

When Leonora had finally reached her house, she was surprised to find all the lights on; Normally, when she arrived at this time, the only light that was on was the one in the living room, where Y/N was reading a book.

Wearily she opened the door and stepped inside, letting the homey warmth and the smell of the oven reach her face.

The redhead didn't even have to make her arrival home known, to hear those little footsteps on the wood.

"Mom!"

Little Rose ran down the stairs, laughing, until she reached the open arms of the redhead, who quickly picked her up, thanking everyone for how small the girl was.

"Hello little monster"

From the back of the kitchen, the Dean's green eyes collided with Y/N's, causing the latter to show a beautiful smile, seeing the two girls together.

"You're late" Y/N joked

"Go to your room, beast, mommy and I have to talk"

The little girl quickly climbed back up, making the redheaded woman walk until her back was to her wife and hugging her hips.

“Blame it on Dovey” Y/N laughed as she took the food out of the oven “I'm serious Y/N, if I hear another 'Ever' complain again, I'm going to have to cut my ears off.”

“Relax, the good thing is that you are home now, and dinner is ready. Go call Rose, and set the table."

———————————————————————————

Dinner was one of Leonora's favorite moments. The feeling of warmth, the delicious food, Y/N's voice along with Rose's giggles and games made her cold heart feel what the warmth of a true home is.

“Today I saw my friend Erick”

Until that wretch's name left Rose's little lips.

The story was very long and very exhausting to tell, but to summarize. Y/N had graduated as a great 'Ever', giving her first kiss to a handsome and gallant prince named Erick. As a good 'Ever', it only took her a few months to commit to the man. But when the man found out that a baby was on the way, he didn't hesitate for a second to abandon the woman with the baby.

Leonora met her almost two years later, while she was on an emergency trip through a town near the school.

She doesn't even remember what made her fall: Y/N's shy look or little baby Rose's babbling.

How had the jerk come to contact his women? Leonora had no idea, but she tried not to get into the subject. She just enjoyed the little girl.

"Really? And did you have a good time?" asked the redhead, seeing how everyone finished dinner, so she got up and took the dishes to wash them.

"Yes. But… I missed you, mom. I like hanging out with him, but I miss when you and I go out to play."

Yes, Leonora could confirm that Rose was one of the few people who could make her believe that she still has a heart.

"Oh honey" Y/N interrupted her by kissing the girl's head "the good thing is that mom is going on vacation, and they can go out to the field every day, to play"

"Don't forget Lily" commented the redhead causing both women to laugh

"Sure, let's not forget Lily"

The baby's cry began to sound, warning that he had woken up.

“Talking about the queen of Rome”

"Come Rose, let's go for her"

———————————————————————————

"Are you ready to sleep?" Leonora asked as she tucked in the little girl, who was already beginning to yawn and rub her eyes.

"Yep"

"You stayed up very late today, little naughty" the redhead stroked her hair, trying to make her fall asleep even faster.

"I told mommy I wanted to wait for you"

"I know baby, thanks for waiting for me" the older woman planted a kiss on the girl's forehead.

"I love you so much mom"

"I love you too"

"Tell Lily and Mommy I love them too."

"They love you too, monster"

The girl quickly fell asleep, for which Leonora got up leaving the room, closing the door, to enter her own room, finding her wife and the little baby playing on the bed.

"You don't seem like she want to fall asleep anytime soon, do you?"

"She just wanted to see her mom"

Small emerald eyes met those of the taller woman, eliciting little squeals from the baby.

"Hello, little fairy"

Admitting that little Lily had come into this world thanks to Dovey's kindness and care (and magic), it was very difficult for the redhead to show her gratitude, so she decided that calling the baby 'fairy' was more than enough.

Out of the corner of her eye, the redhead could see how her wife was beginning to yawn, already very tired, and apparently, baby Lily had enough energy to keep her awake for a few more hours.

"My love, go to sleep, I'll take care of Lily" the woman murmured as she snatched the girl from her arms.

"No, I can…"

Leonora interrupted her wife's protests by planting a kiss on her lips and on her nose.

"Honey, you've already done a lot here, let me take care of my girls."

The woman soon fell asleep, so it was Leonora's job to play with the little girl to tire her out.

"Hey, beast, you have to shut your mouth, you're going to wake up mommy and your little sister"

The girl ignored it and tried again to stick her finger in her mother's nose, while she burst out laughing.

As much as she wanted to deny it, her heart vibrated every time she heard her youngest daughter's little laughs, as well as her oldest daughter's voice, and without a doubt, Y/N's kisses only put the garland on the cake.

Some time later, the baby was finally able to fall asleep, so the redhead quickly tucked the girl into her little crib and lay down on her own bed, but in the process, she woke up Y/N.

"Hmm, are the girls asleep yet?"

"Yes, sorry for waking you up"

"Don't worry, let's go to sleep"

A silence settled in the room, but still, Y/N could tell that her wife wasn't asleep.

"Leo, what's up?"

"Do you think… that they hate me?"

"What?"

"Girls, do you think they'll hate me when they find out I'm the dean of evil?"

Y/N got up so he could look at her wife's glassy eyes.

“My love, of course they won't hate you, you're their mother” Y/N began to caress Leonora's face, to keep her eyes from leaving her “You're their favorite person in the world, they love you. We love you, we know that you are not a bad woman. Even if you don't believe it yourself, we know you have a heart; that you feel, that you deserve affection, love. Nobody is completely good or bad, you are not black, nor am I white, we are both gray scales, and they will be able to see that "

The redhead gave her wife a smile and a kiss on the chin

"You know, I'm starting to think that I married you because you always know what to say."

Y/N started laughing as she planted kisses all over her wife's face.

"Admit it, you married me because you love me"

Both women lay back down, ready to go to sleep. Leonora embracing her wife's body from behind, planting kisses on the woman's bare shoulders.

"I love them, so much" confessed the redhead already half asleep

“Your family loves you twice as much”

Because it was known that evil could never have a happy ending.

But, no one is completely good, nor completely bad, and despite that, we all deserve a little love.

Leonora deserves a little love.

Note:

I'm starting to believe that I LOVE writing about Lady Lesso. Thank you for submitting this request.

I hope you enjoy it

I appreciate the reblogs, the likes and the comments

taglist: @littlebitchsposts // @xxsekhmet

message me or send an ask to be added to my taglist!

#the school for good and evil #sge movie #sge #lady lesso #leonora lesso #lady lesso x reader #leonora lesso x reader #lady leonora lesso #lady leonora lesso x reader #charlize theron #charlize theron x reader #clarissa dovey #professor dovey

360 notes · View notes

suncaptor · 5 months

Text

uquiz? on the verge of 2024? okay.... anyways which recurring character that gets called a whore in Supernatural are you?

below are the examples of the times it's used for recurring characters. OP does not view sex or sex workers derogatorily.

RUBY I'm not talking about witches, you jackass. Witches are whores.

URIEL Who's gonna stop us? You two? Or this demon whore?

URIEL Well… at least I'll go kill that demon whore, Ruby.

MEG [enters]: Crowley.

CROWLEY: Whore.

DEAN Wha—I'm not wearing any ma—(Dean looks at the cloth the makeup artist has just wiped over his face to find it covered in foundation) Oh, crap! I'm a painted whore!

CROWLEY The big lie -- the Winchesters still buy it. The good Cas, the righteous Cas. And long as they still believe it, you get to believe it. Well, I got news for you, kitten. A whore is a whore is a whore.

(Castiel shoves Crowley against the wall)

FEMALE ANGEL A demon whore and a Winchester... again. SAM takes a step towards KEVIN.

EDGAR A pathetic mutt. Hardly one of us. I knew Eve, and honestly… your mommy was a whore.

MEG You gonna talk us to death or get down to it already? CROWLEY There's my whore. I'm not here for my dearly departed, though. I'm here for the stone with the funny scribbles on it.

CROWLEY

Well, I'll be a son of a whore.

ABADDON

Right now you and I are gonna talk about regime change.

CROWLEY

You little whore. [shouting] I am your k—

CROWLEY Abaddon giving you trouble, eh? Tell you what, you let me go, and I'll spit-roast the little whore for you. Sound good?

CROWLEY

From here on, I want you to know that the only reason you're alive is because I allowed it. And I want you to deliver a message. You tell that ginger whore that I gave her a chance to walk away and she spat in my face. So now, she'll never see me coming.

CROWLEY: A hamster told me. (Crowley pours sugar into the sup and stirs the contents) Tragically…the boy was terminally ill and soon to die. But before the witch departed, she gave the boy and his family the only thanks that made sense. She cured the boy with one spell and cast another that would take root once he was full-grown. That lying, manipulative whore mother of mine gave you immortality, didn't she…Oskar?

Crowley [on his voicemail]: Thank you for phoning Crowley, King of Hell. For demon deals press one. To report a sighting of that ginger whore Rowena, press two.

#ask to tag #uquiz #spn #supernatural #incoherents #my conception of myself regarding sex is so normal believe me anyways take this uquiz definitely made someone who is okay

66 notes · View notes

itstheghostofmypast · 2 months

Text

Tornado Warnings

Idol Song Mingi x (F)Reader

Summary: She had to tell him one way or the other, but she didn't want him to take it any other way than it really was. Who was she confronting though, at the end of it all, herself, him, or their relationship?

Genre: Angst/Fluff

Word Count: 3.3k

Warnings: insecurities, depression, anxiety disorder

Est.Read Time: 25 min

Networks: @cromernet @k-labels

Ratings: nc-17

Banner: @cafekitsune

Song Rec: Tornado Warnings (Sabrina Carpenter)

Staring up at the ceiling she wondered if she should tell him or not. He had been sitting at his desk, hunched over, the expanse of his broad shoulders making it look extremely painful. Ever so often he'd mumble to himself, reading out a verse, shaking his head, and then scribbling it out, the room littered with paper balls. After an hour of collecting them and throwing them in the bin, she had given up and decided to read instead- that was 3 hours ago, and by now, the room looked like it belonged to a toddler.

Slamming his hand on the desk he groaned, the wood shivering under his large hand. He was frustrated, she could tell, and he could tell too, but he wasn't frustrated because of the lyrics- no that was just part of the frustration. He was frustrated because he wasn't able to pay attention to her today, spend time with her, or talk to her, even though he had invited her over today. They were supposed to be free today, which they were, which is why he called her but as soon as he saw her face he felt as if the world had stopped and his brain had begun to jumble words together for some coherency- it frustrated him how she was his source of inspiration, yet the subject of neglection.

"Mingi?" She finally decided to break the four-hour-long silence. Shit. She probably wanted to leave, she was probably tired of waiting for him, of course, she was, why wouldn't she be?

"Mingiiiiiii~" she whined, grabbing a pillow and tossing it at him, the soft material colliding with his head with an umf. Rubbing his head he turned around, staring at her, eyes filled with dread.

"Yeah- I- am almost done-"

"I want to go to a therapist."

"Sure-" he paused, confused, staring at her for a second, brows knitting together in confusion, why? Was he the reason? Did someone hurt her? Was there something she never told him-

"Mingi, if you keep making that face and zoning out, I'll beat you with a pillow."

Snorting at the threat he stood up, shaking his head before stretching his arms over his head, making him look even taller. Tilting her head up to meet his gaze she frowned, unsure if he was going to take this well or not, but the moment he jumped on the bed beside her, his action causing the whole bed to rock, a laugh wracked through her body.

He laid there on his side, facing her, head resting on his palm, elbow digging into the sheets, most of his legs dangling off the bed as he smiled at her, "Okay, no more intrusive thoughts or work, you have my full attention".

"Finally," muttering, she reached over to run her fingers through his brown, unkempt, spikes, "Look at this nest..." His eyes closed at the kind gesture, only to snap open at the latter statement, "It goes with the concept- does it not look good?"

"Of course it does."

"Then?"

"Just makes it harder for me to...." she trailed off, averting her gaze and pulling her hand back to her lap. Sitting up straight he frowned at her, reaching over to clasp her hand in his, giving it a gentle squeeze, "Love...what is it...you- we promised to always share right?" His voice was calm but she could sense the desperation in his words, slowly pulling her closer, both now sitting cross-legged on the bed, she was glad his bed was as big as him because even with his legs folded in and back pressed against the wall, he was taking a lot of space.

"I told- I mean, you know how I said that I kind of feel off these days?"

"Yeah?"

"I've been seeing this therapist and-"

"You're going to therapy? You didn't tell me? Is everything okay? Did something happen? Wait, you want to or are you going to one?" Brows knitted together he licked his lower lip, ready for more of his interrogation, why hadn't she told him? Did he have a role in this? What was the premise of the situation, were they going to be, okay?

Raising a hand gesturing him to stop and calm down, and for herself to do the same, taking a deep breath she exhaled and gained some form of composure. "I... okay, so, I only went once, free trial kind of thing, but then, she asked me a few questions I couldn't really answer, so I stopped- its been a week so yeah..."

Nodding in return he pursed his lips in thought before muttering, "What kind of questions?"

"Relationships..." He nodded at her short response, thinking for a moment before humming, "And...that makes you feel uncomfortable?"

It wasn't like she felt uncomfortable, in fact their relationship was one of the most important and joyous highlights of her life, but it was one that she was to keep to herself, at least for some time. It's not like she didn't know this before committing to this relationship.

"I- the thing is..." She began slowly, he could tell by looking at her expressions that she was choosing her words very carefully, "I just feel like I'll be lying, so it'll make the session pointless, on the other hand, I don't want to talk about us because what of it is leaked or something else..."

Nodding he thought to himself, humming as he leaned against the wall. He understood where she was coming from, on one hand, he knew how important it was to have a clear head, a cluttered mind often leads one to some form of depression. On the other hand, he wanted to be selfish and keep her all to himself, but letting her go...would make her happy, then the question is, did he love her enough to let her go?

He took a deep breath, pulling his hand away from her, choosing to cross his arms over his chest, as if he were holding down what was bubbling within him, and began his question, trying ever so hard to ensure his voice didn't betray him, "Do you...want to" only it did, turning into a faint whisper " ...you know?"

'"What?" Confused she looked at him before noticing the way his eyes had watered, connecting the dots, only to gasp and yell, "NO YOU IDIOT!"

Grabbing the closest object, she smacked him, over and over again, lucky for him it was a pillow, "WHY WOULD I WANT THAT?" she continued, hopping off the bed, after he had jumped off, to run from her.

"I DON'T KNOW?"

"MINGI! I JUST DON'T WANT TO LIE ABOUT YOU" She threw the pillow that hit the desk, things falling off, wells he had thrown it at him, but he had ducked out of the way, "YOU GENIUS, WHY WOULD I WANT TO LEAVE YOU!" She could feel the bottled-up emotions ready to blow, all the insecurities and second thoughts, the side comments and feelings fuzzing up, ready to spill, mixed with anger and sadness. To think that he would jump to such a conclusion so quickly. Was she not there for him enough? Did she not express her love enough? Or did he not feel the same way for her- in terms of depth and intensity, perhaps he was looking for a moment, a moment he could use to finally escape from her broken form, she was basically a whole package as it is, a burden he had to hide and conceal from the world- perhaps he was tired of keeping secrets too, only unlike her, maybe he wanted to completely let go, but who was she to say no to him, who was she to cling onto him?

"WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM? IT’S NOT LIKE YOU DISCUSSED THIS WITH ME BEFORE GOING TO ONE!" He yelled back, frowning at the mess, standing a good distance from her. Okay, perhaps he was upset, not only did she never mention the therapist before, but now he felt like maybe he was the problem. Though his voice had betrayed him, choosing to side with his bottled-up frustration, doing that one thing he had never wanted to do when it came to her, yell at her, to raise his voice and put the blame on her, even though he could clearly see her façade crack, yet here he was shoving it until it shattered.

For a moment she stared at him, quietly trying to arrange her thoughts, to understand her feelings, trying to deal with the turmoil, trying to compose herself, she knew she should have consulted with him before even getting an appointment but, perhaps she was not ready for the yelling. Letting out a frustrated sigh and closing his eyes, he rubbed his face, trying to calm down, to block out all the noise running around in his head. He didn't mean for it to get out of hand, especially not like this.

"I..." she began, only to sigh and shake her head, "Never mind, please forget I ever mentioned it." Walking over to the things that had fallen off his desk, picked up each item, and lined them up neatly against the wall. She could pretend this never happened, that therapy never happened, that her feelings getting the best of her never happened, the feeling of being choked by her own thoughts never happened- not because he had yelled at her, no, but because of the fear of losing him, she’d rather watch herself slowly crumble away than to lose him like this. A toxic trait, it really is, she could now see what the therapist had meant when she told her ‘You must love yourself first before being able to love someone else’, but how could she just let him go? When he had always been there for her, and for once when he couldn’t help her, what was she to do? Leave him- perhaps that would have been better for him, but maybe, just maybe, the jealous little insecure girl in her wanted to hold onto him as long as she could.

"Mingi?" his eyes snapped open at her soft tone, meeting her meek gaze she patted the bed, "Why don't you lie down for a while, I'll order something to eat-"

"Why are- " he corrected himself, "were, you seeing a therapist? " Cutting her off, he stood there on the same spot. Watching her sigh as she sat down on the place she had cleared for him, staring at her lap, "Because...I just...sometimes I feel things...Mingi and I can't understand them and it's like I'm being choked by my thoughts."

His gaze softened at the confession, sighing as he walked to her, taking a seat next to her, he pulled her into his side, arm wrapped around her shoulders, "I- do you feel like that because of me? Because of us- I mean I'd understand because we have to hide our relationship." his words were soft, but she could sense the desperation. Leaning onto him she shook her head, reaching for his free hand, as she began to play with his fingers.

"Never," whispered she clasping her smaller hand in his much larger one, "It was and will never be you- you, this relationship, us, this is the highlight of my life." A smile grew on his face at her words, pulling her closer, if that were even possible.

"But" she pulled away, much to his disappointment, “The thing is, if I lie in therapy, then I won't get a proper diagnosis" She paused staring up at him. Silently nodding he scrunched his nose, trying to push up his glasses without letting go of her hand. An extremely inefficient way, but he didn't want to ruin the moment, maintaining eye contact right now was vital. He knew when she looked up at him like that, she'd be hinting at him to process her words instead of reacting. The way her eyebrows were slightly raised, eyes wide, lips slightly parted, ready for her tongue to roll off the next list of words.

"But?"

Reaching with her free hand she slowly pushed his glasses up, sliding them up the tip of his nose to the bridge, "I don't want to lie about you, I can't pretend you don't exist. How can I say I am single? Forget our relationship for an hour I spend there, skip through the pages of our days spent together, like a chapter pulled out by the editor at the last moment." pulling her hand away she sighed, laying back down on this soft bedding, legs dangling off, arms folded above her tummy as she looked up at the ceiling- it would've been impossible to confess her insecurities and fears while looking right at him. The innocent face he'd make, pouting at her like a child, slowly processing her words.

"How do I lie about you in that office, then come back out pretending I never did such a thing, how do I get back to the rhythm without missing a step?"

Mingi let her pull away, knowing she needed a bit of space, he did do- more than often. So, he sat there, staring ahead, but his attention was solely on her words, patiently waiting for her.

"Even if I convince the doc you don't exist, does this mean I'll end up convincing myself that too- or worse, what if I end up convincing you that I- we, no longer exist."

She had no idea when she had begun to cry, not even a memory of when her vision had turned blurry, but a hand reached up to furiously wipe away the leaking emotions, the guilt that had begun to choke her soul, with a grip so tight and strong that it scared her.

"The worst part is, that you're not even the problem, you aren't the reason for my trip, but factors in my life I cannot control. My family, apparent friends, and this pressure- sometimes I just text you at night, knowing you're asleep, knowing you're tired, knowing you won't reply instantly- but you're like the light at the end of the tunnel, and I can't help but reach out for it when I'm being pulled back into my pit and-" she paused when she felt the bed shake, sitting up on her elbows she noticed his trembling shoulders.

"Min... are you okay?" sitting up, placing a hand on his shoulder, she gave it a light squeeze. "I just...the reason why I walked out was because she asked me if I had anyone around me, I could rely on with my eyes closed. And Mingi...I sat there, staring at her face like an idiot, how could I tell her, the person I blindly rely on is the goofy, giant, artist- I came to know about another idol whose doctor exposed him and well, I can't risk that, but I don't want you to have a partner that's not emotionally fit...you deserve the world Mingi, you deserve to be with someone who will love you as much as you love me, you have a big heart Mingi- I…I don’t I’m selfish, even though I know you deserve all that, I can’t let you go, and I’m not really sorry for that…I-" With a slight pause she pressed her forehead against his shoulder, trying to control it all, for the sake of it, for him, she whispered, “I can’t lose you.”

When she got no response from him, she moved closer, shaking him a bit, "Mingi?" she leaned closer only for him to turn away whining as he let out a choked, "Don't, Yunho says I look ugly when I cry."

She couldn't help but snort at that statement causing him to frown and turn to glare at her. Unfortunately, his red, puffy eyes and trembling lower lip made it too difficult for her to take him seriously as she gushed over him, "Awww don't cry -"

"You're an insufferable woman," he pushed her hands off as she wrestled to not move them, her laugh resonating across the room.

"What? you look cute!" she tried to pull him closer as his large palm pressed against her cheek, trying to push her away, "You’re a masochist, you can't say such things and then laugh! You do need mental help!" he half cried; half yelled in protest trying to not ruin his "cool" image any further.

Their little banter was interrupted by a knock on the door, followed by its opening a bit as a head poked in, "Hey, sorry to bother you, but are you guys okay-" Seonghwa paused at the sight before him.

With one hand she was pulling on the sleeve of his sweatshirt, while her other hand was gripping the leg of his track pants. His eyes scanned the other idiot, whose palm was squished against his girlfriend's face, fingers covering half the side as if he was trying to push her away, while his other hand, arm extended completely, was gripping onto the edge of the bed like he was trying to escape. He noticed their puffy eyes and tousled hair, but he was so confused.

Seonghwa had been asked by Yunho to go check on Mingi. He was in his room when he heard the younger one yell, followed by a few things falling on the ground. He knew Mingi well enough to know he wouldn't do something stupid, but he also knew that the idiot had no control over his tongue when he was emotional. However, this was not what he was expecting to see.

"uhh... never mind."

The door closed as the two exchanged a look and burst out laughing, Seonghwa who was on the other side of the door shook his head and walked away, leaving them be.

She was too busy laughing to realise when he wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tight as she wheezed. Her face was buried in his neck, giggling against him. He let out a sigh, letting the silence envelop them both for a while, her body still pressed against his, arms not budging an inch, both of them lying on the soft bed. The sound of their calm breathing, mixed with the low buzz of the air conditioner had almost lulled her to sleep, his warmth wasn't helping her either. Just as her brain was about to slow down to neutral, she was violently shaken awake, "Excuse me, don't you sleep on me."

"WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU~" whining she pulled away only to almost fall off the bed until he pulled her closer. "I'm sorry for yelling at you." he smiled at her, when she placed a soft hand on his cheek, pinching it, "I'm not upset Mingi."

"You know Hongjoong is a great person to talk to" he suggested but stopped when he saw the face she was making, "what?" he asked, placing a limp arm on her waist.

"You realise he once advised me to put laxatives in your juice when you pranked me on my birthday."

"WHAT-" He gasped sitting up, "SO IT WAS HIM?"

"So, I think I should just stick to talking about my problems with you." she sighed, laying on her back and closing her eyes, "After a nap though- and you treat me with a nice meal, after ...that," she mumbled, feeling the fatigue left by the rush of various emotions. A few seconds had passed and she was almost asleep, her reflexes slowing down. She was almost asleep until she felt something soft press against her lips for a quick second before she was enveloped by extreme warmth, which could only be him pulling her closer, ignoring the problems and insecurities of the world for a few hours- just the two of them together, alone, peacefully happy in their dreams.

Taglist: @edenesth @yessa-vie @marsvillee

@mlysalt @spooo00oky @the-kpop-simp

135 notes · View notes