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snoozingredpanda · 1 year

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OP i need different ending to Benni getting cheated on pls I'm on my knees xndnf

... not her getting back together with R tho

Hope this is for your liking :)

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Benni Winters — Heartbreak Pt.2

Fem!Reader

18+ Please! (TW!)

Warnings: Depression, eating disorder, insomnia, drugs, suicide, cheated!Benni, therapist/client relationship, manipulation, yandere!therapist!reader, obsession, mentions of murder, NSFW mentions, swearing

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• Benni’s life has been turned upside down since her darling cheated on her. She’s cut off any contact with anyone she used to know, changed collages (but barely attends class), and has picked up unhealthy habits such as drinking and smoking. She doesn’t care about herself, nor anyone else. She hopes she’ll die of alcohol poisoning, or she’ll be hit by a truck when crossing the street.

• She barely sleeps, the bags under her eyes puffy and purple. Her skin is a sickly white, and she’s started loosing weight. Whenever she tries to eat, her body automatically rejects it. She just doesn’t bother eating anymore.

• Her new collage has noticed she’s not well. Her teachers have tried to talk to her, but it’s like she’s in another room, staring out into space with a sad look in her dim grey eyes.

• She’s entered into the school’s wellness program, but she doesn’t show up to the meetings. She’s too busy moping in bed.

• The school has tried getting in touch with her parents, yet has just received an angry, uncaring email from her mother, further adding to the feelings of rejection.

• One night she just can’t take it. She drinks a lot, then takes a few packs of paracetamol, hoping it would be enough.

• After being rushed to hospital the collage has had enough. They arrange an appointment with a private therapist, the renowned Dr. L/n.

• “Don’t want to,” Benni gruffly mutters from under the sheets of her hospital bed.

• “You’ve got no choice, Miss Winters,” the wellbeing officer replies. “You can’t keep going on like this.”

• It’s then that four hours later she finds herself facing you, her new therapist. You’re a cute thing, with bright e/c eyes and a soft smile, maybe a few years older than her, 22 or 23. She doesn’t make eye contact, just listening to the steady beat of her heart monitor.

• “How are you feeling?” You ask gently.

• “Like shit.”

• You knew this was going to be a tough one, but was determined to help her.

• You ask her tens of questions, usually answered with ‘yes’, ‘no’, or ‘I dunno’.

• She hasn’t looked you in the eye once.

• After that first session you’re excited to see her again, to introduce her to all the methods you had for making her feel better. You just had to find out why she was feeling the way she was.

• The next appointment was in your clinic. Benni was nearly an hour late, having been dragged in by her wellness officer. She was annoyed, on the verge of tears, ready to throw a tantrum.

• “Just get in there,” the officer hissed. “Or you’ll never get better.”

• You’re quite appalled by the officer’s tone. Doesn’t she know that this sort of thing is hard? Why is she being so rough with Benni, the poor thing.

• You shut the door swiftly and smile at her. “Are you okay? She doesn’t seem too nice.”

• “She’s a bitch,” the girl grumbled. “Don’t know how she got her licence.”

• You sigh and sit down opposite her. She looks around your room, eyes landing on the sign on your desk. Her heart misses a beat.

• “Y—your name is Y/n?” She whispers. You nod and smile. Her bottom lip starts to wobble, and tears bead in the corners of her eyes. She’s visibly shaking, nails digging into the leather of her seat.

• “Hey, what’s wrong?” You kneel down in front of her, taking her hands in yours. “You can tell me anything. It’s all classified.”

• “T—that… that was h—her name,” she sobs out, eyes not moving from the sign.

• “Who’s name?” You question gently.

• “Hers!”

• She’s flooded with memories of her old darling, who used to cuddle her tight and kiss her goodnight. How sweet she was, holding Benni’s hand in the corridor, not minding her obsessive tendencies.

• But then there was the image of her darling cheating so devilishly on her, her moans so pleasured as her lover lavished her like Benni and only Benni was supposed to do.

• All this slipped from her lips, and you’re lapping up her trauma. How she cared for her, loved her, was obsessed with her, only to be chewed up and spat into the mud.

• Benni’s a mess, knees brought up to her chest, cheeks wet and breathing heavy. You bring her into your arms, just holding her for a few minutes as she tries to contain her emotions.

• You can tell that there’s more to it, but don’t pry. She just needs a little while in your arms.

• The next few sessions dive deeper into her feelings. She’s telling you everything, how horrible she feels, how rejected she is.

• She even shares her childhood, not without more tears.

• You’re an outstanding listener, you just let her dump everything onto you, always ending the appointment with a hug.

• Those hugs turn to the whole session being in your arms, curled up on your loveseat as she whispers all the emotions that she’s been holding up.

• Benni isn’t stupid.

• She knows that familiar feeling.

• She’s getting attached.

• She fights it. She doesn’t want to go through that again, but you’re just too good to her.

• You help her through everything. Phone calls every single day, texts most hours. You make sure she’s eating three meals a day, and that she’s getting at least 8 hours sleep. You makes sure Benni goes to class at least once a day.

• “You can do it, I know you can!”

• You’ve even got rid of her wellness officer, who’s constant comments were really dragging her down. As well as this, you’ve helped her cut down on the drinks and cigarettes, and she’s grateful for that.

• You’ve been such an angel for her, and she just can’t help liking you a little bit.

• You know of her strange tendencies of stalking and obsession. You also know she’s a manipulative person, but now you were sure she wasn’t trying to manipulate you in any way. She was just a broken baby that needed some support.

• You weren’t supposed to get this close to your clients, but you also couldn’t help it. She was just so clingy, so beautiful. You just had to have her.

• So, after the 14 week program ended, Benni was quiet, sad. The school was only paying for those sessions, and she had no money to pay for more.

• You would’ve given them to her for free, but she denied, saying she didn’t want to be a burden.

• A burden?! She was no burden!

• So on your last session, you walked her to the door, before pressing a soft kiss to her cheek. “Why don’t we meet up outside of therapy, hm? We can go get something to eat.”

• She’s blushing, stumbling over her words. “I—I… really?”

• You nod. “I told you I was gonna help you, didn’t I? And I think the best way to help you is to treat you the way you deserve, and ensure you that I’m not like her.”

• She smiles to herself and thinks about kissing your own cheek, but decides not to. She doesn’t want to push boundaries.

• You go on a few ‘dates’. Well, Benni’s convinced they’re friendly, but you definitely mean it in a romantic way.

• You’re head over heels for her, and you can’t stop thinking about her. You know she feels the same way, but it’s nothing like her old darling. She’s not in obsession, nor is she stalking. She just clinging on to ever ounce of affection of love you give her.

• She’s so sure you’re just gonna throw her away after a few months, so is blocking her feelings so she doesn’t become the old Benni.

• It’s like the dynamics are flipped. You’re the one obsessed with her, you’re the one who gets possessive whenever anyone even looks at her.

• You want so badly for Benni to just love you, but she’s not getting the message! She’s shy whenever you kiss her on the cheek, and won’t hold your hand when you watch a movie together.

• You don’t blame her, though. You know how badly she was hurt, and as a therapist, her wellbeing will always come first.

• Your official relationship doesn’t start for years. At this point she’s got a job at a local veterinary clinic, helping out the small puppies and kittens. It makes her feel calm, despite its low pay.

• You, on the other hand have changed professions. You now study organisms in a lab, since you were worried Benni would get sad you’re talking with other people in depth.

• You’ve moved her into your apartment, taking care of her every need. It was only now did you outright tell her how much you loved her, how much you want to be with her.

• You left out the part where you poisoned her last darling’s coffee and now she’s 6 feet under as well as her lover.

• But Benni doesn’t need to know that.

• Benni is overwhelmed when you tell her your feelings. She loves you too, so, so much. She can’t help but feel so good when laying in your arms, when you kiss her so gently on the lips.

• Now you’re a couple, you make sure Benni knows that you love her and only her. She’s a bit hesitant at first, but you’re the only one she has.

• You’re possessive with everyone around you, and have resorted to cutting off all your family and friends in fear of them stealing her away. Benni doesn’t have any friends, either, all she needs is you.

• So she’s falling deeper and deeper in love with you. She is, in fact, obsessed with you. She has no need to stalk, though, you’re perfectly happy for her to watch you in the shower and take pictures when you’re not looking.

• Slowly, you’re mending Benni. She’s still very insecure, struggles with alcohol, has nightmares, but you’re there for her.

• It’s like you’re in a bubble together; no one else matters.

• “Don’t leave me, please,” she begs.

• I won’t, baby, I won’t.”

#oc #yandere #fem oc #oc x reader #x reader #yandere reader #yandere x reader #fem reader #tw ptsd #tw depressing stuff #tw eating issues #tw alcohol

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

Text

luck be a (leading) lady | part 1.

Summary: Y/N has always been a background character. That’s just life for some folks isn’t it? But what if she’s determined to not just be another member in the ensemble? What if someone helps her step into the spotlight in her own special way?

Warnings for the Series: a teeny bit of angst but mainly fluff

Pairing: ricky bowen x black!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I am not even sorry for starting a third series. I just finished season three of hsmtms and I’m obsessed. Also spoiler now, EJ and Gina are staying as an endgame couple. I’m gonna try to plant those seeds early if I can.

(Series Masterlist)

Junior year. You were wondering if something amazing would happen to you this year. As you slammed shut the door of your car, you were starting to think that it was going to be another boring year for you. Only you could go to the famous East High and still have the most mundane school experience ever. You sighed as you made your way to your locker. Four people that you never talked to aside from asking to borrow a pencil were standing right in front of it. Your eyes darted back and forth. Right, you were sure that you heard something about Nini and Ricky and a breakup? Or just a break? It didn’t really matter at the time. You thought the Camp Shallow Lake gossip was just that. But then EJ and Nini did seem really close ever since the show started. You didn’t really care in all honesty.

“Um, excuse me.”

Four sets of eyes turned towards you. You blinked in mild surprise at their annoyed faces. Hesitantly, your pointer finger motioned to the metal cubby between them.

“That’s my locker.”

All of sudden, the faces changed from annoyed to embarrassed. You tried your hardest to quickly get in and out. The moment Nini mentioned meeting someone else at camp, you darted out of there. Last thing you needed was her calling you into the lovers’ quarrel as a witness. Although, you weren’t even sure Nini knew who you were. She always forgot to give you an opening night card. You knew plenty about Nini, Ricky, Kourtney, and Big Red. The five of you had gone to the same elementary school, then middle school, and now high school.

Not many people in Salt Lake could say they’ve grown up together in such an intense way as the five of you. Except it wasn’t the five of you. It was the four of them and you just existed. Sure you were introverted verging on social anxiety according to your therapist. And, yeah, you didn’t have a single friend since the one girl who befriended you had moved away right before freshman year. But still, you think the four of them might have acknowledged you at some point.

You didn’t have much more time to think about that as the principal started giving a bunch of announcements, including a new drama teacher. That was a shame. You actually kind of liked the old drama teacher. They had always put you in the least egregiously ugly costume of the ensemble. You even got a thank you card last year because you were one of the few students that signed up for every production whether a musical or a play. Oh well. This new teacher, Ms. Jenn, seemed interesting enough. And High School Musical. That was awesome. Did you have a shot at playing Gabriella? Absolutely not. Were you going to try out for the lead anyway? Of course. That was a tradition of yours.

You might have been painfully shy— detrimentally shy— but you loved theatre. Maybe if you could play the main character just once then you could break out of your shell. Break out of your shell as the real you and not Dancer #3 or Milkmaid #1 or Starfish #4. If your friend was here then she would say that you totally had a shot. Even though she had always been a sports gal, she forever supported you in anything the arts.

Auditions were in two days and you needed to think of the perfect audition song. What screamed Gabriella? Should you go in something that would remind Ms. Jenn of the show? Not exactly the red dress Vanessa Hudgens wore at the end of the show but something similar. A cute skater dress.

You had chosen a cute pink number from your closet. Attaching your audition number of lucky nine to your dress, you finished stretching backstage with everyone else. You smiled as you heard everyone practicing. Maybe your audition song was going to be what took you over the edge and made you just a bit better than everyone else. That quick burst of confidence was short-lived as you heard EJ give out something between a laugh and a scoff.

“You know, I’m actually kind of bummed we don’t have any competition here. It would make getting the leads just a touch sweeter. Nini, this is going to be perfect. Leading man and lady. You ready to blow them all away, Gabriella?”

Your shoulders slumped a bit. Maybe you didn’t have this in the bag. Well, at least you’d be leading the ensemble again. You hyped yourself for the dance auditions that were first. Carlos really stepped up to the plate to make some amazing choreography. Maybe the only person executing it better than you was whoever had audition number one. You had never seen her before. She must have been a new kid. Definitely a shoe-in for one of the leads as far as you were concerned. Your smile grew a little bit when Ms. Jenn gave you a wink before saying everyone should prepare for the line reads.

Her acknowledgment one hundred percent meant that you were just put in the running for Gabriella or maybe even Sharpay, right? If you were being honest, she didn’t even bat an eye at you asking for Gabriella. That had to be a good sign. It just had to. You felt confident as you started singing your audition song, a classic “Colors of the Wind”. All you had to do was sing it perfectly and read a few lines and you were done.

“Sorry! Sorry, I’m late!”

Everyone’s heads turned to see a very haphazard Ricky running into the room. You looked on in mild concern as he went into this very long-winded and out of breath story about why he was late. Something involving a dvd stuck somewhere. You only caught half of it and you were positive that Ms. Jenn hadn’t been paying attention to any of it. You bit your tongue as attention turned from you to Ricky.

“Lucky for you we haven’t gotten to the Chad scenes yet.”

“Oh, no, I’m here for Troy.”

“We’ve already read for Troy.”

“That’s kind of the only stuff I know. I’ll wait till everyone else is done.”

Carlos gave the other boy a look. “Troy would have been on time.”

Your eyebrows scrunched up a bit. “Wasn’t he late in the movie?”

“Number nine, not helping.”

You opened your mouth only to close it again. There was no doubt in your mind that when you finished your audition you were getting the ensemble. Between the new girl, Sebastian wanting to be Sharpay and Ms. Jenn loving the progressiveness of it all, and two boys fighting over Nini as she sang, you weren’t getting Gabriella or Sharpay… or Taylor. Or even Kelsi. You sighed as you went to grab your backpack from backstage and wait with everyone else for the cast list. Normally you were used to callbacks and at least a day or two but Ms. Jenn had a… unique style to her.

The energy backstage was too tense for you. You popped in your earbuds and moved to wait in the hall where the list was going to be posted anyway. Leaning against a locker, you texted your parents that you'd pick-up something for dinner and they could go ahead and just enjoy their anniversary dinner without any concern. You weren’t prepared for the argument between Nini and Ricky. Of course, you couldn’t help but turn your music down and listen in. Nini looked pissed at whatever Ricky had just said.

“You broke my heart Ricky. And then I had the best time at camp. Without you. You don’t get to just come back here and mess everything up.”

“Nini.”

“N—”

“The cast list!” Kourtney ran past, grabbing Nini as she did.

You waited for the crowd to clear to find your name right where you thought it would be. Ensemble, principal dancer. You didn’t even get the understudies for any leads. The only thing that left your mouth was a scoff. The start to junior kinda sucked.

(part 2)

PERMANENT TAGLIST:

@venomsvl @peaches-n-sunscreen @summerellaz @supernaturallover2002 @sambucky8 @9daykrisr @thebitchinleo @23victoria @scarlets-widow @pagetpagetpagetpaget @lovexnatasha @awesomebooklover17 @1234-angelika @imatrisk @blackreaderatrisk @princess-jules47 @alexloveskili @a-marie-a @siriuslysirius1107

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts fic #ricky bowen x reader

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sannflwrr · 2 years

Text

Sorry I Didn’t Say Something Sooner

Author: sannflwrr

Pairing: Taehyung x Y/N (ft. Jungkook)

Rating: 18+

Warnings: mid profanities (?), angst (per usual), mentions of weed, alcoholism, su!c!de, se*f-ha*m (yea this can be a very sensitive topic of individuals so please be cautious as you’re reading)

Summary: What would have happened if they said something sooner?

a/n: oof this is actually so depressing. idk i was getting in my thoughts as i was writing this so some of the inner monologues are just me reflecting, i apologize for another angsty draft :”)

Sometimes I think of myself like a planet. Everyone was their own star, at the center of their own lives, while I was hopelessly rotating around others. Everyone found a way to be loved, I struggled to make people love me. I was alone, exiled from the solar system. I was Pluto. And Kim Taehyung, he was my sun.

After sometime, going so long without any type of romantic interaction makes a person hopeless. Am I that unlovable? Everyone I knew around me had experienced one at some point, sweet love, a spicy summer fling, all sorts of tropes that I had only ever read about in stories. They would tell me my chance would come when I’m older. It never made sense. If not now, what would ever indicate that I would be deserving of it in the future? To make matters worse, there was someone who I yearned to open my heart up to, but I was far too much of a coward and my belief that I was simply unloved was far too strong that I didn’t see the signs. Not until it was too late.

We all used to be great friends in high school and throughout college. In-state tuition was cheap, so most of the friend group remained within the state for the following four years, where we attended school at the same university, just very different majors. Life was fun then, I was distracted by the highs of singleness that I momentarily forgot about all my inner hatred for myself. My lack of sexual and romantic experience which channeled into my lack of self esteem and a build up of hatred to my own physical appearance. I never realized my behavior was all just a lot of insecurity. I was constantly conscious about the way I looked, the way I talked, how I sent text messages to people, to the point where it was overbearing. Only after I began seeing a therapist after the nightmare that was senior year, did I begin to realize I had major issues with my self-image.

Taehyung was easily the most liked in our group. He was fun, easygoing, and pretty. During orientation week as freshmen, lots of girls would approach him, because he was eye-catching and had a baritone voice that usually caught people by surprise. They would tell him they loved his hair. He used to smile back and say thank you. They liked his hair, but not as much as I did. No one ever liked it as much as I did, because I was the only one who never told him how much I did. He would simply catch me staring at his hair, and I’d give him a small smile, then look out the window. I never told him a lot of things I was feeling, and in that way, I felt like our silence was our language. It’s hard to explain through words, but it felt like we understood each other in a different way than the others did.

He was good with his alcohol, while I only drank in social settings. That taste of it was awful, unless it was heavily diluted with orange juice or it was the cotton candy flavored wine from the grocery store two blocks away. My friends knew I didn’t like drinking, but rather than exclude me from their outings, they still brought me along. It was nice that they didn’t make fun of me for not drinking with them. By this point, it was junior year, so most of them were borderline alcoholics. Taehyung had started to smoke by this point, so whenever I came near him, he would smell like earth and cinnamon. It was more grown up, but it suited him. I still liked his curly hair, which remained unchanged. He asked me if I wanted to try his joint once. It was difficult for me to say no to guy like him, with his sweet dark chocolate eyes, so I did. It was terrible, I ended up choking over air, and coughing so much that my eyes turned red. It was worth it because it made Taehyung laugh, which strung a chord in my heart.

“I miss hearing your laugh.” I had told him. We were out in the parking lot of the bar, the silence was nice in contrast to the music and noise inside the building. My comment caused his smile to fade slightly, but not completely. Like he had been waiting for someone to notice. Like he wanted someone to notice.

“I just can’t find a lot of things worth enjoying anymore.” He looks down at the burning cigarette in his hand, and lets it fall to the ground. “It’s an easy escape, this thing.”

And for a moment, those words of his brought me out of the little bubble I created for myself. I remembered all of the awful things I would say to myself in the mirror, the constant doubt…

We were the same, I realized. He had friends and felt so surrounded to the point where he was alone. No one understood him. They liked his exterior, whatever he put on for other people. And I was so alone that,

I was so alone, that my thoughts scared me.

“Do you like juice?” I asked him. I looked to the street, across from us was a 7/11. He followed my line of sight, then back to me.

“Orange juice would be nice.”

Five minutes later, I bring back one of those small bottles, one for him, one for me kind of deal.

“Let’s make a toast.”

“To?”

“I don’t know.” I hesitate, looking down at my bottle. “To life. Trying to stay in it longer…I guess.” He’s quiet for a while, where it made me question whether my action was overdoing it, overstepping a line. But then he looks up at me from the curb. His shoelaces are untied. Taehyung lifts his bottle to touch mine.

“I can toast to that.”

I continued to follow him, like how a planet revolves around the Sun. He was always there, and never faded from sight, no matter how low the probability was that I would ever say anything to him about the matter of my heart. I had bigger issues to deal with by then, that being my senior year.

My friends were nice, but they didn’t understand what was happening to me. To put it quite frankly, I hated myself. To the point where my fridge was usually empty, with the exception of a box of cherry plums. I hardly looked at my mirror, and my apartment was mostly dark. The windows were usually closed, I didn’t like the light. And my bed was never made, mostly because I stayed in bed all the time. It was a struggle to wake up to go to class, and even more so to do my work and keep up with whatever social life I had.

Again, they didn’t understand, but they gave me more peace than I could’ve imagined. They didn’t understand, but they never forced me to be way out of my normal just for their sake. To this day, even as I think about this, I couldn’t have been more blessed to have such a group of friends who didn’t pressure me for ghosting them on days on end, forgetting to respond to their texts because I was locked away in my own darkness. They only encouraged me to do the bare minimum, remember to take a shower, make sure there’s some food in my fridge.

The time I did go out to meet them, it was at Taehyung’s apartment. His place smelled woody, like a grown up, which I realized we were at this point. Most of them had plans for the future laid out. I still felt like I was the train wreck from freshman year, which was yet another one of my problems which I didn’t want to address.

There were about ten of us in the room, and it was a warm May night, which made the apartment heat up. I hated that I wore long sleeves especially for this, even though it’s all I ever wore. Most of them were extremely drunk by the time I arrived. The reason I stayed as long as I did because Taehyung’s eyes brightened when he opened the door to my face. It was nice that his face still had the same effect on me as it did all those other times. One thing remained unchanged. As soon as I stepped inside, he handed me a cup filled with orange juice.

“I was hoping you would show.”

“Me too.” I told him. It made me wonder in awe how he was able to keep up with this life so effortlessly. For me, it was immensely difficult, everything felt like a chore. The only things that didn’t feel like a chore was laying in bed. Or talking to him.

I stayed there, listening to everyone talk until people began to head out one by one. I stayed until no one remained, where it was just him and I. This was different from the parking lot, but it felt the same. Just many, many months apart.

“We hardly see you anymore.”

“It’s hard.” I told him, which is what he probably expected me to say. “I don’t think anyone sees me anymore. Not even my professors.” That caused his lips to rise a little, and he took a sip from his cup.

I asked him where his bathroom is, and he pointed to the left. Excusing myself, I locked myself inside. Even the bathroom smelled like him, there was a shelf filled with his bathroom materials. There was no mirror in there, the bathroom was small so there wasn’t any room for a sink. My head tingled like I was dizzy. It was either the orange juice, or the fact that the orange juice is the only thing I had at all that day. I assumed it was the latter, and opened the door. This time, Taehyung greeted me by the mirror, staring at his own reflection. He was adjusting his hair. It still looked nice.

I rolled up my sleeves to wash my hands. The silence was comforting with him, his dark eyes watching me pretty blatantly. Then he leaned against the wall. I realized he was staring at my hands. I quickly dried my hands.

“It was a cat.” I said to him. “Scratched me.”

He nodded, then looked at me again. “Your cat?”

“Yeah.” Nodding, I glanced down at my sleeves. “I forgot to cut her claws.”

“That must’ve hurt, then.”

I was silent. Because I realized he doesn’t believe my lies. And I hated how nice he continued to be despite that, I hated how much of a good person he can still be despite of everything he deals with. Him and I are the same yet he’s so put together and I am an absolute mess.

“It did.” I whispered. “It hurt a lot.”

“Does she scratch you often?”

“Not often.” I stared at the sink bowl. “But sometimes.”

He took a calculated step forward. “Do you know why?”

“I guess I make her angry, sometimes.”

“About?”

By now, I couldn’t look him in the eye, or even myself in the mirror, so I stare at the sink, feeling the tears pool on my cheeks. “Everything. Just everything.”

Taehyung watched me cry silently. We didn’t exchange many words after that, and just stood there in each other’s presence. That was the tipping point for me. I realized how I was feeling wasn’t normal, and that I should see someone to talk about my feelings. And that’s when I met Yoongi, my therapist.

Taehyung was mentioned a lot in our sessions. My feelings for him, everything we used to talk about. Yoongi helped me work through my trauma and hatred for myself. Made me realize why I was so insecure. Taught me how to be nicer to myself. Taught me how to love myself. I started leaning away from the cat excuse. He was amazing and he saved my life. He’s still my therapist to this day. I’m not as messed as I used to be, but sometimes the thoughts still linger.

There was a point in my recovery where the flowers began to bloom again. The Sun shone brighter for me, and I began to see colors again. A couple years after my graduation, which was when I met Jungkook.

He was a breath of fresh air. I used to be so scared of being unlovable, but it was like those thoughts disappeared when he showed up. Unlike anything I had ever read or experienced in my life, he managed to sweep me off of my feet. He was sweet, considerate, and his smile was contagious. He was younger than me by a year, but somehow his entire presence made me feel like I aged back years. That was just his effect. He seemed to shine inside and out.

Perhaps it was that I learned how to love myself, that I was able to show this love now for other people. Jungkook received it well, and returned it back to me like a boomerang. He soon became my first everything. And soon to be my last everything.

I didn’t think about Taehyung much once Jungkook became one of the closest people to me in my life. I didn't have to anymore, because he used to be my Sun. Now I had finally learned how to be my own center, so the darker days started to drift away as I became happier. And Jungkook was a huge reason to that happiness, so I had no reason to. He made my heart full.

But like all things that are pushed away, like my unresolved feelings that I shut off for many years, he returned many years later, on a warm summer evening. He was there with Jungkook and I at a fancy hall down in the city. Not just him, but many of my other friends, who were eager to see me. Jungkook was preoccupied with a couple of his old friends from college, so I was left alone for a moment. That was when we met again.

“Y/N.”

The first thing I noticed was his curly hair. It felt bittersweet, how some things refused to change. He was dressed in a dark blue suit, and a baby blue tie that matched the color code of the event. I felt a smile spread across my lips, it was both of surprise, but also of pain. Seeing him again…reminded me of a lot of things.

“What a lovely surprise!”

He smiles at me, then wraps an arm around me for a quick embrace. “It is an important occasion.” He glances over at Jungkook who is several feet away. Jungkook seems to catch my gaze, for he glances over and gives me one of his familiar grins. “Which by the way,” Taehyung adds. “Congratulations again.”

“Thank you.” I’m still watching him socialize with his old friends, then I look back to Taehyung. “It’s been a long time since we last spoke.”

If I’m not mistaken, my response causes some pain in his eyes. His smile doesn’t betray it, and he glances away once to the champagne table to try and disguise it. “I would think that we are very different people now, right?” I hate that I understand what he’s really trying to ask underneath that. I nod once, letting the smile fade. He reminds me too much of my painful days. The longer I continue to stand in his cinnamon cologne, the harder it gets for me to breathe. Jungkook saves me at that moment, and he smiles at Taehyung.

“Y/N, there’s someone I want you to meet.” I let him usher me off without a farewell to Taehyung. Not like I could’ve mustered much anyways. I felt like I was choking on flowers. The kind that smelt like him. It felt nice seeing him again after so long, but it also pained me. I didn’t like that it pained me, I felt guilty, Taehyung had never hurt me in any way. I still hoped I wouldn’t run into him alone that evening. My prayers were left unanswered, later that night, Jungkook fell asleep on me in the hotel, while my eyelids were struggling to close. It was the night before everything changed, it’s a big deal. I really wondered how he could sleep like a rock. All of the socializing must have worn him out. I found myself entering the lobby of the hotel for a change of scenery.

I recognized the fluffy mop of curly hair outside of the hotel lobby, with a trail of smoke following him. It probably wasn’t in my best interests to go out there, but I did.

“I didn’t realize you were at the hotel too.”

“Well, most of us are.” Taehyung comments, then looks up at me from the bench. “You booked this place for everyone.”

“Right.” I nod. “Some of the details the planner takes care of, so I guess it flew over my head.”

“He seems like a great guy.” Taehyung tells me. “You never gave much details to any of us.” He mentions our friend circle but I realize he’s just talking about himself mostly. I sit down next to him.

“I started going to therapy towards the end of college. My therapist — he’s great. He, he helped through so many of my problems. I didn’t realize how much I needed it after our conversation in your apartment, actually.” Taehyung smiles, it seems that he remembered. “After working on myself a lot, I finally learned how to love other people, and receive it in return. That’s how I found Jungkook. I like that our relationship is relatively private. I still get insecure from time to time, despite working on it…so I just choose to keep the most precious things to me private. I don’t want to know what other people think of him and of us.”

Taehyung stays quiet for a while, and during that time I watch the way the smoke from his cigarette dissipates into the air.

“Does he know?”

“Yeah.” I let out a small breath. It pains me that I know what he means of immediately. “He told me he wished he had known me back then.” I smiled to myself. “It’s not like he could have done anything. The me back then was very un-receiving to help.”

Taehyung nods to this, like he agrees. “I was like him.”

I still at this, waiting for him to continue. The silence that follows already explains a lot, but I need him to speak to confirm what I think he’s saying.

“As a friend, there was only so much we could do for you, Y/N. Making sure you took a shower, that you ate. We always felt like we were overstepping boundaries if we got too involved in your life.” He hesitates when he says the next part. “But part of me…part of me thought that if I,”

I can see that he is struggling to say the words. I know why he is — he’s treading so close to the line that we used to be at for years, but now he threatens to actually cross it, to break it.

“If you?”

“If I had been more than a friend,” He continues. “Maybe things would have been different for you. Easier for you.”

“I never realized you felt that way.” I said to him, it surprised me how easy the words came out. “For most of college, being friends with you was the only thing keeping me going.”

“It’s nice to know that even despite that, you still found your way.” Taehyung says, and smiles at me. He’s smiling, but I can see the clear pain in his eyes. He doesn’t really try to hide it either, which makes it worse.

The words he said after made it hard for me to breathe, so much so that I spent the rest of my night holding back the tears in my chest. Not just for myself or him, but just everything. My friends noticed that something was off with me the following morning, but didn’t ask - knowing well I wouldn’t tell them the real reason.

I couldn’t stop thinking about his words, and it made me feel so guilty walking down the aisle, and staring at the man that I vowed to spend my life with. I recited them word for word, but my head was elsewhere, still stuck on what Taehyung had said to me.

“Do you ever wonder?” He had asked me.

The way Jungkook smiles at me usually gives me butterflies. But right now, I feel so guilty that I want to hurl.

“I used to wonder all the time.” I told him. “I always wondered what could have happened if I had said something.”

“I just wonder,” He stares up at the sky. “I wonder if I had said something, whether that would still be the same man who had given you that ring.”

When the ceremony closes, Jungkook’s lips meet mine. I’m so in love with this man, so it revolts me how a mere conversation can shake me up so terribly. I’m so incredibly stunned with my own emotions and how they’ve swayed me incredibly. I know if Jungkook were to ever know how I was feeling right now, it would break his heart. He would be devastated. Because I am in myself right now.

My eyes meet Taehyung’s one last time in the crowd. He wears a gentle smile, like how he always used to whenever he saw. It makes me sick to the stomach how much his short words impacted me. I hate how sick I feel. Because I know deep down that he was right. Had he said anything, had I said anything…there would have been someone completely different standing on that aisle.

“So yeah,” Taehyung had looked at me wistfully. “That’s what I used to think about.” He got up. “I should probably get some sleep. Early day tomorrow.”

“See you tomorrow.” I had told him, eyes planted to the floor. I couldn’t move. He neared the door, about to open it, when he paused.

“And Y/N?”

“Mm?” I forced myself to look away from the concrete.

“Sorry I didn’t say something sooner.”

#kim taehyung #taehyung #Taehyung oneshot #taehyung x reader #bts angst #taehyung angst #right person wrong time

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stargazing-imagines · 9 months

Text

Couples Therapy — Steve Sanders x Fem!reader

Description: you and Steve’s relationship is on the brink of destruction that you two take on couples therapy.

Warnings: making out in public, bad writing

Fandom: Beverly Hills 90210

Requested: no

“So… what brings you two to couples therapy?” Asked your therapist as she folded her hands into her lap, looking over at you and Steve who sat on the opposite ends of the couch, arms folded.

“She thinks I cheated on her.” Admitted Steve as he threw his hand in the air “which I clearly didn’t do.”

“Well then why did I hear it from Kelly that were sucking faces with some blonde at the frat party?” You asked as you stood up

“She got onto me y/n, how many times do I need to tell you that?!”

“Ok ok ok, let’s calm down before you scare the patients.” Said your therapist as she held both hands in front of her, signaling the stop the fighting “now… this is the first time that I’m dealing with college teens so please bare with me.”

“Look this is a waste of time, I’m leaving.” Said Steve as he stood up “our relationship is fine.”

“Oh yeah, what’s my favorite color?” You asked

“Black?” Asked Steve, you scoffed before rubbing your temples with your fingers

“It’s y/f/c!” You shouted

“I’m sorry, ok!”

“Ok, I’m going to say this.” Said your therapist “I think I feel some tension between you two to the point that it’s unhealthy.”

“So how do we get our vibe back?” Asked Steve

“Maybe try hanging out with one another for an entire day and then let it out.”

“This is torture.” You said as you seated at the front seat of Steve’s corvette, crossing your arms

“I can’t believe you would think that I would cheat on you with some rando at a party.”

“Yeah it’s kinda hard to be in a relationship with you when you flirt with every girl in sight.” You said, eyes not leaving the street signs

The car went to a subtle stop.

“What are you doing?” You asked as you looked at Steve

“Look, you mean the world to me and you may hate me but I do know that down inside that you can’t live a day without me.”

It was true, you and Steve have been together since junior year. You still remember the day like it was yesterday when you two met. You were walking with your nose in your schedule, not seeing the corvette in sight which made you yelp as it came closer to you.

“Ok maybe I exaggerated a little bit.” You said “I’m sorry I accused you of cheating.”

“It’s fine.” Said Steve “don’t worry about it, all that matters is that I have my girl back.”

With that you two kissed, not having a care in the world or not caring if other people were watching

——

Beverly Hills, 90210 masterlist

#beverly hills 90210 #bh 90210 #steve sanders #steve sanders x reader #steve sanders x you #beverly hills 90210 imagines

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hermioneromanoff1 · 2 years

Text

I respect your opinion , except i don’t.

summary: you and a new student have a debate about your favorite marvel character

A/n: i do know bts aren’t marvel fans but its just for the sake of the prompt

warnings: none

word count : 473 (rlly short sorry)

genre : crack , some fluff

prompt: "im sorry i talked too much . "no no no , not at all keep talking."

I sat in my home room waiting for my best friend to come and sit at our usual table . That didn’t happen , I checked her schedule only to realize she actually had bio right now .

"Fuck" I whisper .

So here I am sat alone in my homeroom , sketching and listening to music . It was going well until someone had the bright idea to come and interrupt me.

"Hi" a male voice says shyly .

"Hi." I reply coldly not looking up from my sketchbook .

"Um c-can i sit here ?" The voice says.

I look up from my sketchbook to finally see the unfamiliar voice .

Only to be met by the new senior that just enrolled. Kim Taehyung , I think . He has history with me.

Suddenly I felt extremely guilty , he’s new . He doesn’t need anyone being mean to him.

"Yeah sure , go ahead."

"Thanks"

I smile softly and go back to drawing.

Minutes go by when he speaks again .

-What are you drawing ? -Oh? I’m just drawing Thanos’s gauntlet but replacing the infinity stones with the OG avengers. That must’ve made me sound so geeky I’m sorry .

-No no no no . I don’t mind at all I love marvel , in like an unhealthy way probably. I don’t know I haven’t seen a therapist yet .

-*chuckles* Thank god most people cut me off and talk about other things . Who’s your favorite character.

-Stephen or Steve

-WHAT ?! I respect your opinion and all except I don’t . Bucky was always there for Steve always. ( potterheads?) but in The First Avenger he left Bucky to die in the snow and didn’t come back for him . He danced with Peggy . And maybe in Civil War it seemed like he cared , he didn’t if he did he would’ve looked for buck a long time ago . Endgame, he sacrificed Nat and Tony so he can go dance with Peggy . Really Steve ? Really?.

Taehyung sat there , his eyes wide and mouth slightly agape .

"Oh my god ! I-im soo sorry , I didn’t mean to blow up like that I’m just a really defensive person an-"

"Shh , shut up for a second , 1: I don’t mind 2: I wasn’t serious that’s just how I know I’m gonna be good friends with someone and 3: you should sign up for captain of the debate team"

I blush not really knowing what to do or say since I really just blew up over a nonexistent person .

"Well , I’m sorry I talked too much."

"No no no don’t be . Keep talking."

"Uh ok , well ironically I am captain of the debate team."

He smiles "Makes sense".

#kim taehyung #bts bangtan boys #kim taeyoung icons #kim taetae #taeyeon #taehyung imagine #taehyung fluff #kim taehyung x y/n #kim taehyung x reader #kim taehyung x you #kim taehyung drabble

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crazylil-lion · 2 years

Note

I will assign A - Z then 🥰

A- are you single?

Yes hopelessly single.

Forever alone lol.

B- birthday?

08 26 98

C- crush?

Don't have one takes awhile to get me to fall in love with someone. All about personality

D- did u get ur first kiss?

Nope never had my first kiss or taken on my first date. Or had my hand held or cuddled. Basically 0 affection ever.

E- easiest person to talk to?

My therapist lol I don't have much for people to talk to.

F- favorite song?

Breaking down I prevail. This changes alot between that bands songs.

G- good at? Problem solving.

H- hair color?

Brown

I- in love?

I wish no one takes the time or puts any effort in lol. Im not cute enough to notice

Everything else is just like there.

J- jealous of?

All the pretty girls that cosplay. Tbh I wish I was pretty

K- known as?

Lil lion. Rawr 🦁😋

L- longest relationship?

2 years.

M- middle name?

Michael

N- number?

O- one wish?

To have someone to grow with and experience life with. I'm so open to going to museums and exploring and traveling. Really all I want is to have someone to feel safe around.

P- person last texted?

My ex talking about smooooothies.

Q- question always asked?

How old I am. I look under 21 Or so I'm told when I rarely go to bars and drink.

R- reason to smile?

Being called pretty and cute. Really I just wanna dress up in outfits and shop for lingerie with someone.

S- song last listened to

Body bag by I prevail.

T- time you woke up?

7:10 am

U- 3 biggest wishes?

Answered already

V- violent moment?

The flashbacks and my nightmares.

W- worst fear?

Being alone forever

X- ex you still liked after it was ended?

Yes and no how she acted at the end really bothered me but we are friends still

Y- your last hug?

Uhhh a few years ago unless you include the like half hugs I got from my siblings when I left 9 months ago.

Z- zodiac sign?

Virgo which fits me sooooooo well

Thank you for the asks!🥰

#asks

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asking-jude · 7 months

Note

How can I think of myself as a good person and allow myself to experience good things, if I have done something horrible to my partner , breaking his trust and making him think about that all the time, almost leaving his mind even after months, essentially giving him ptsd, because every cute or lovey or couple-y thing he sees reminds him of us and me.....

He didn't physically assault me, and he is very sorry when things like that accidentally happen, but he slapped me right after he found out and one time when we were discussing about it, he threw my half eaten hot dog in the trash and .. I'm used to ppl being mean to me, so it didn't really affected me, but stil :c

It's okay if u feel too pressured to answer this, u don't have to, but I would appreciate it because I don't have the money, guts and anonymity to ask a therapist (at least at the moment)

For context, what I did was sexting with a guy, even sending him photos of my naked body, something sacred, that only he should have seen in all of our lives..... and complain about stuff I didn't like about him to a friend, because I wanted someone to agree with me when he would get angry at something I did or did not, but now I know he said those things because he wants (or wanted...) us to grow and get better together:C

Thank u <3

Also, sorry for the long ask:<

Do you want free, fast mental health help? Visit askingjude.org.

Hi there,

Thank you for reaching out. You mentioned that your partner hit you when he found out you had been sexting with another person. While cheating is wrong, domestic violence is incredibly serious and should not be taken lightly. You may feel like you deserved the physical assault in some way because of the mistakes you’ve made, but there is absolutely no excuse for domestic violence.

You also mentioned that he was angry because you were venting about him to a friend. It sounds like he is trying to isolate you from some of the people in your life, which is characteristic of a toxic relationship. What you talk about with your friends has nothing to do with him, and those conversations should be none of his business. Also, if he was frustrated when he found out, he could have had an open-minded and honest conversation with you about his feelings, but he resorted to physical violence, which is abusive and unacceptable.

I have provided an article that discusses the signs of a toxic and abusive relationship: https://www.new-hope.org/warning-signs-of-an-abusive-relationship/.

Everyone makes mistakes sometimes; your mistakes are what make you human, and it does not mean you are a bad person. The important thing is that you apologize to those you have hurt or wronged and take the proper steps towards remedying your mistakes. Also, it may sound counterintuitive, but the fact that you feel guilt is a great indication that you are an inherently good person because you understand what you did was wrong.

You need to decide what you think is best going forward for your relationship. Try to have an open-minded conversation with him; remind him that you feel remorseful for what you have done, and tell him how you feel about his unpredictable and violent behavior. If he does not accept your apology, then he can leave the relationship, but he cannot resent you for your past mistakes forever. If he can forgive you, and if he commits to eliminating his violent behavior, you two can attempt to move forward with the relationship. In the event you decide to continue the relationship, you both need to set clear boundaries for each other and ensure there are consequences in place if the boundaries are ever violated.

Here are some tips on how to navigate relationship conflicts: https://www.loveisrespect.org/resources/conflict-resolution/.

If you move forward with this relationship and his behavior doesn’t change, please reach out to friends or family, the authorities, or the domestic violence hotline for help. The domestic violence hotline can be found at this phone number and link: 800-799-7233; https://www.thehotline.org/.

He should never use your past mistakes as a reason for physically assaulting you, and his apology after the fact does not negate the gravity of his actions. You also mentioned that he has a history of this kind of behavior, which indicates that his actions are habitual and likely will not change. You said that you are used to being treated poorly, so your past experiences with this kind of negative behavior may be obscuring your perception of the gravity of the situation. No one, regardless of their past mistakes, deserves to be treated with violence. Try to look past his apologies and the good memories you have with him and consider whether or not this is the kind of person with whom you want to spend the rest of your life.

Continue communicating with your friends and family. They love you and should always put your physical and emotional well-being above everything else. I am not sure if you live with your partner, but if you decide to leave him, your friends and family can also provide a place to stay temporarily and help you find a place to live.

I hope that some of this information was helpful. Please feel free to reach out to Asking Jude also if you have any further questions.

Hang in there,

Andrea

Ask a question here.

#ask #advice #mental health #help #support #counseling #love advice #dating advice #relationship advice #life advice #lgbtq advice #health advice

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notyourparentstherapist · 10 months

Text

Deeply Personal

CW, Trauma, CPTSD, emotional neglect, parents with mental illness, hoarding, abuse

TL;DR

I am a survivor of emotional neglect, a parent with complex mental illness, and need this living document to remind myself that my dissociative and cptsd symptoms make sense given what I have been through. I often don't remember or can't tolerate having all together in one place so I tend to "just forget" anything pre high school. I need something external and tangible to remind myself that was I went through was real, horrible, and just as valid as other forms of neglect and abuse. I often talk myself out of being a survivor of anything. Or try and convince myself it was all a dream. Which is an intense CPTSD and dissociative response. The post below is raw and full of spelling mistakes. One of us needed to get it out.

I have been spending a lot of time sitting with it all.

I have trouble placing it all together most days. Honestly I'd rather forget it all. My job, as a part, is to be functional, working, and committed to security for the body and everyone else.

So asking me to go to therapy twice, even three times, has been so so hard for me. N is the first therapist I have been able to stick with for a long time. Other than C who I saw in college. She was my first real therapist and we saw her every week for 4 years. She helped me start to put a lot of my past together.

In college, when I was finally away from my home, is when I stepped in. I could finally do what I wanted to do. So I took on three jobs, took 18 credits a semester, some times even 19, and was on the board for two clubs, one being the honors society.

I made up every excuse I needed to no go home for breaks. I begged the father, who left when we were 4 and has barely participated, for money to help us stay on campus. I am thankful he did once until the step monster stepped in. She really fucked any chance we had at a relationship with the father.

During this time C was started to align for me that our mom was mentally ill. The way she operated was my normal for so long. She never let friends come over who were not fully vetted, I had limited friends I could go see. Had to turn my cell phone in every night for her to search it. She monitored all of my social media. I was also dancing so I was in the studio 36 hours a week by the time I was a senior. (I was also dancing on an undiagnosed hip injury which I had to manage all the medical appointments to starting at 16 which is also not normal). She had me sign a clothing contract which stated what I could and could not wear every day. (she sent it to me in college as well hoping i'd follow it).

She was a teacher, until she lost her job in the 08 market crash. She has never been the same since. I cannot remember what life was like before high school really, I remember some of middle school. But C was there to remind me that my mother was also an addict.

I was blinded to the idea that someone could be addicted to prescriptions. I naively believed that doctors were all good and that would never happen. Meanwhile, C explaining the effects of all the meds mother was on made a lot of sense.

She stopped maintaining the house. Things started falling apart. We had no money, lack of heat and hot water was the norm. The house would get so gross wed have insect and rodent infestations. Mold too. This is why I always had lung infections and NO ONE THOUGHT TO LOOK INTO THE HOUSE. I am still so mad. There were so many signs things were wrong.

She is a classic case of prescription abuse. She was on the phentanyl patch, percs, and ativan by the time I was 18. Those drugs ran her life. If she took them she would be passed out for most of the day. Unable to take us anywhere. She'd forget to pick us up, including my sibling M. She was not present. When she lost her job it got worse. She'd sleep all day. Stopped cooking. I would have been 16 and M 14.

I took over a lot. I got my permit so I could drive us around. It took her convincing to go anywhere or do anything.

I am so thankful I have a close relationship with M. I do not think we would have survived without each other. He recently told me, "You know, when I look back on the happy times with you or what we did when we were younger, mom isn't there. She was never there". I was shook. He remembers less than I do, which I honestly think is a good thing.

I got fed up at 17. I started pushing back, getting angry. Mother and I fought all the time. (she denies this). However, another side story is the reason I struggle personally. She has my brother and I convinced we had psychological and developmental issues. She full believed my brother was incapable of reading and writing to the point where she did all his homework for him. Leaving me angry about how much "support" he got. Little did I know then that this would cripple his sense of esteem.

She had me convinced I was like my father, who has OCPDO, and that I was vulnerable to addiction and bi polar like mood swings like her. She had me on meds starting in elementary school. It started with concerta and ritalin. Then we moved to Strattera. Then my moods became "uncontrollable and disproportionate" so they put me on prozac. Turns out I can't break that down so they put me on sertraline. But then I started having panic attacks daily in middle school. So then ativan was added and they tried me on welbutrin then celexa. By the time I was 18 in high school I was on straterra for ADHD (Which I don't have), Lamotragine (aka lamictal for bi-polar which I also don't have), ativan, and sertraline.

I was an over medicated 18 year old, with a hip injury, and surviving Munchausen's by proxy (I know the name changed with the DSM V), while also surviving emotional neglect at home and dealing with a mentally ill parent who was addicted to prescriptions. Plus my house looked like an episode of hoarders. (I can't watch the show it is too triggering).

*taking a deep breath*

I only had small parts of this. At any one time.

There were other events of sexual abuse that took place outside of the home so I am not discussing those here.

I never suffered physical abuse. So for the longest time I did not understand why I could not trust people, why I was so reactive to touch or being invalidated.

To date, my biggest trigger is when people do not take my emotional needs seriously. Like I get it, I am too functional most of the time, but being told at a young age that I was "such a good advocator" was not actually good. Why are we praising a 12 year old for knowing how to advocate for disability needs in middle school. THAT SHOULD HAVE BEEN MY MOTHERS JOB.

All of this stems from a core story mother tells people. She uses it to highlight my independence. She used to say that I never cried much, I slept a lone a lot. Never needed much attention. Until M was born. (His needs were way different and I always understood that). He had a lot of stomach issues and mother had post partum depression with him. Anyways, the story goes like this.

Mother: I remember you waling out into the kitchen while I was holding M and you asked me, which I always knew you'd be like this, you asked me, Mom why does M get all the warm stuff?"

LET THAT SINK IN. At less than 4 years old. I asked my parent why does my sibling get all the warm stuff???

Her response.

"well you never asked"

THIS. IS. EMOTIONAL. NEGLECT. AND. MISS ATTUNMENT. AT ITS BEST.

She tells this story to people and they things it is so fucking cute how observant I was.

But I just get so sad and mad about it.

I don't think a 4 year old or less needs to "advocate" for attention. Like fuck me.

Often I have to remind myself that my CPTSD symptoms and dissociation MAKE FUCKING SENSE.

Home was not safe or clean, so my sibling and I played a lot of make believe until middle school (which is developmentally very late). I learned quickly that the only way to get needs met was to ask and be prepared for a volatile no or to take care of things myself. NO WONDER I DON"T LET ANYONE HELP ME. LIKE FUCK. WTF.

I learned I could not talk to mother about personal stuff due to fears of being punished. I attempted to come out as bisexual to her and she told me I could no longer have any friends over due to her fears of me being sexual with everyone. (meanwhile she would sit in front of the TV shouting for gay rights and supporting the gay marriage bill). It was SO confusing growing up.

SO I think it makes sense that parts of me would fracture off right? The child parts concerned with fantasy play and arts and crafts or the mute one who is sad and lonely. The angry/sassy teen. The workaholic and perfect student. The sarcastic/flirty hypersexual part that split off at 17 due to sexual abuse to cope. Also at 17 was the suicidal and self harming one. I am sure there are more.

Yet when N asks me to validate myself I just can't. I know in my soul that OSDD/DID is a thing for me. It has disrupted my life in different ways. It is dysfunctional in many ways. This will be a separate post I think.

IDK.

Sorry for trauma dumping. I am sure I left parts out.

#dissociative disorder #mental health #therapy #dissociation #trauma recovery #complex ptsd #ptsd #trauma #mental illness #therapist with lived experience

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kirishwima · 5 years

Text

i am. s o close to skipping today's internship

#like deadass i just cant be in the paediatrics ward for three hours like i c a n t #i think ill call in sick and sign in for another day #i feel awful but like i genially cant i dont feel mentally well enough #like i woke up with a panic attack and i just calmed myself down a little #i found some terms to replace today's one but then im also anxious that im missing this one #like i feel guilty? bc my friend is going to todays shift #i messaged her she said no worries but like i cant shake the anxiety off #its just a mentally unwell day today *sad dab*#theres this anxiety knot in my stomach that refuses to go away and idk what to do #ill take my antidepressants in a bit and if necessary the anxiolytics my therapist gave me for emergencies but idk #i dont want to use those unless i genially cant get out of a panic attack or smth #delete later

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tomboy-writer · 3 years

Text

Prompt: Chris Evans story where your boyfriend is a cheating douche-bag. He cheats on you time and time again and you get into a bit of a depression. You confide in your best friend, Chris Evans. His consoling leads to sex, the sex soon turns into a regular thing and you get happy again. Your boyfriend sees your change and promises that he will never cheat again and that he will treat you better. You’re happy but sad at the same time because now you have to break things off with Chris. But Chris won’t have it; he says that you should stay with him and not your boyfriend. You’re not sure of which decision to make, so Chris lists off reasons why you would be better off with him.

Chris Evans x black!reader

A/N: my first Chris Evans story!! Let me know what you guys think of it.

A/N 2: I started this story a few years ago and it took me a long time to finish cause I was on a very long writing hiatus and didn't finish this until earlier this year, so some of the story goes off of what the summary says and I decided to turn this into 2 parts (could be more, depending on how long the 2nd part is). So no smut in this part, just angst and dumb jokes. This also originally wasn't going to be a black reader story, but seeing how my ACTUAL 1st Chris Evans story went pretty well (the Game On story) I decided to make it another one cause I love it.

C/W: angst, swearing, my dumb jokes, 3rd person story (it hurt my brain to write it this way, but I wanted to try something different)

“He did it again, Chris! Michael cheated on me with some big titted chick,” Y/N said as she sobbed into her best friend’s shoulder.

Chris rubbed his friend’s back, trying to calm her down. He knew how to handle situations like these since Y/N went through so many of them with her boyfriend. Chris thought her relationship with Michael was like a broken record: always repeating itself. It was good at first with the couple being so obviously in love, but that changed six months later when Michael decided that Y/N wasn’t enough and started to cheat on her with multiple women. Y/N had been given advice by Chris countless times about guys like Michael and she listened to him, she really did. But she always ended up forgiving her unfaithful boyfriend and enjoyed the makeup sex that Michael would give her after.

“He and that big titted chick can both go to hell for all I care,” Chris replied. Then he lifted his friend’s head from his shoulder and made her look directly in his eyes. “Hey hon,” he said using his ‘friendly’ nickname for Y/N. “I think it’s about time you dropped that lame ass zero and got yourself a hero.”

“Okay, Captain America,” Y/N chuckled while wiping her face.

Chris laughed too, but deep down he was really hoping that Y/N would actually consider dating him. They met seven years ago and became fast friends. But the bearded actor didn’t count on falling for Y/N a few years later when he was doing an interview for one of his new movies and Y/N was there to help support him and make sure his anxiety didn’t get the best of him. While in the middle of the interview, Chris started to feel a little fidgety, so he tugged on his ear; a sign that told Y/N that he needed her help. She was standing right behind the cameraman, so Y/N could see everything that Chris was doing. She saw the signal and started to make some weird faces for her best friend.

Y/N made Chris and the interviewer crack up that day, especially when she stood right behind the cameraman and started to bulge her eyes out at him, making him laugh as well. At that moment, Chris realized that he had found that special someone. That special someone that he wants to spend the rest of his life with and just keep forever, never let go.

Y/N was sweet, considerate and loved Disney movies and dogs as much as he did. So he felt that she was just perfect for him. He even started to mentally kick his ass for taking so long to realize this.

The interviewer asked Chris one last question before he had to leave.

“So, Chris, is there a special lady in your life? Ya know, besides your mother and sisters,” she asked.

Chris chuckled and looked right in Y/N’s direction with a bright smile on his face. “Well, I don’t have anyone yet,” the blonde answered, his eyes never leaving Y/N’s, “but I’m looking for her.”

“Chris? Chris, did you hear me,” Y/N asked suddenly, stopping Chris from remembering the day he fell for her.

Evans shook his head no. “Sorry, I zoned out for a few seconds.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “I said I would love to find a new boyfriend, but I’m still in love with Michael.” Chris rolled his eyes this time. “Don’t do that, man. I can’t help that these are my feelings for him.”

“But what are your feelings for him right now! Aren’t you sad? Pissed? Or feeling like you just wanna punch that douche-bag in the face so hard that his face caves in a little bit?”

Chris’s friend nodded her head yes and started to sob again. He felt bad for making Y/N cry; he would never want to make her tears fall from her eyes unless they were tears of joy. He grabbed Y/N and embraced her for a few minutes until she was calm again. Once was she was, Chris pulled away from Y/N enough to look her in her eyes.

“Hey, promise me that you’ll forget about that douche for at least two weeks and just try to find someone better. Okay?” Chris begged with sincerity in his eyes.

“Okay,” I promise,” Y/N complied.

Chris kissed Y/N’s head and, after saying goodbye, left his friend’s house for the night.

* * *

Chris returned to Y/N’s house a few weeks later. He rung the doorbell and heard a faint ‘it’s open’. Evans opened and closed the door behind him and blushed at the sight in front of him: there stood Y/N, wearing only a pair of boy shorts and an over sized t-shirt, no makeup. That’s when Chris thought, no knew, that Y/N was the most beautiful woman out there.

"Hi Chris," Y/N greeted her best friend with a warm hug and a kiss on his cheek. Evans couldn't help the blush that crept onto his face. He also couldn't help but to imagine if he and Y/N were together and he'd come home from being on set all day long, her greeting him the same way she was now except that she'd try to pull back a little to ask him about his day. But Chris would hold his lover in a tight embrace, kiss her so lovingly, so passionately, and ask about her day instead.

Yeah, Christopher Robert [Jamal] Evans would love that.

"Hey, Y/N," Chris replied as he breathed in the embrace. "How've you been lately?"

"A little bit better; not fully okay, but I'm getting there I think," Y/N answered.

Chris shook his head in disbelief. He knew when his best friend was lying to him. "Y/N," he whispered, "I can see in your eyes that you're hurting more than letting on. You sure you're doing fine?"

Y/N's smile was quickly replaced with a small frown. "I'm doin' fine, Evans," she answered, mocking Chris's Boston accent. "And, before you ask, yes I have went on a few dates with other guys; three to be exact. First guy wouldn't shut up about his ex-wife; like I was supposed to be his therapist or something. Second guy -this gorgeous dreadhead- we connected and shit, but he too wouldn't stop talking about his ex and his table manners were terrible." You rolled your eyes before finishing your list. "Last but not least, I went on date with Mr. I-Got-Tons-of-Money-Baby. We didn't connect at all and I'm sure it was cause of his cocky attitude and the way he talked down to people -it was disgusting! " The dateless woman flounced into her big living room and plopped down onto her L-shaped sofa. "Trying to find a new man is pointless, Chris. Either I start dating women cause why the fuck not!? Or I just give up on love all together."

Chris chuckled but then nervously cleared his throat after he came up with a great -but what he also thought was a heart attack inducing- idea. "Y/N," he stammered.

"Yeah, man?"

"If the whole thing with you dating females doesn't work out, but you still want to try to find love, then I know exactly who you should date next."

Y/N gave Chris a questionable look. He didn't say anything back, just raised an eyebrow and grinned mischievously. It took Y/N a few seconds to understand what Chris was talking about. But once she did, her mouth went into an O shape, showing her shock and surprise.

"Are you serious, Evans," Y/N exclaimed; eyes now wide as golf balls. "You wanna date me!?!"

The actor chuckled. He didn't think that his friend would be so shocked by his words. "I've been wanting to date you basically almost ever since we first met, Y/N. I just- -I just never knew what to say to you about it, or if you felt the same way or not and if you didn't then I didn't want to ruin our friendship, or if you did feel the dame way but then something bad happens to us down the road and then that messes with up our friendship and then there's the thing with paparazzi..." Chris was rambling on and on but Y/N was listening to everything he was saying. Hanging onto every word that was coming out of her best friend's mouth.

Y/N had never known that Chris had felt this way about her. It wasn't that she was completely oblivious (well, maybe a little), but she also never saw any signs of her friend being in love with her. Wait. Was Chris in love with Y/N? As far as she knew -or as far as she thought from what she was told so far- this was just a crush. A crush confession that apparently was a long time coming. She wondered how she felt for Chris; did she have the same feelings for him like he did for her? When they first met, all Y/N cared about was how Chris acted as a person, not as Captain America or as an actor in general. But as Chris Evans, an everyday man. Y/N knew, after that one day of meeting Evans, that she wanted to be best friends with the man, nothing more and nothing less. But now, with Chris' confession and continuous ramblings, Y/N was having different and a little bit confusing thoughts.

Sure Chris Evans is an very attractive man, physically speaking. But Y/N doesn't care about looks -much- when it comes to dating or anything for that matter. She thinks what makes people attractive is their personality more than anything, and she knows Chris has the best personality she's ever seen from a person. But she wasn't sure if she was ready to date him or anyone else for that matter. Although, if Y/N was going to date more, then Chris would probably be her number one pick.

"So, what do you say, Y/N," Chris asked, hopeful.

______________________________________________________________

And that's the end of part 1, everyone. Part 2 will be posted....probably next week or so. It is currently one of my WIPs so I'm definitely working on it.

But what do ya'll think will happen next? What will Y/N's answer to Chris be? Will she say yes, or will she say no? Who knows??? Except for me; I know. Also, you're Y/N; Y/N is you, so you better hope that you say something positive back :P Anyways, I hope you all enjoyed this! Thanks for reading!!

#chris evans #chris evans imagine #chris evans smut #angst #black writing #black reader #chris evans x black!reader #friends to lovers #chris evans fanfiction #christopher robert jamal evans

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yangrdn · 3 years

Text

thirty-three and fourteen

pairing: peter parker x fem!reader

a/n: here comes...the longest piece i've written (yet, hopefully). i am REALLY proud of this one and got the idea when reading wintergirls. this was...rough.

summary: thirty-three missed calls and fourteen voice mails.

w/c: 4.5k

warnings: not proof-read, death (mentions of it happening naturally and suicide), eds (hints at anoreixa), therapy talk and sesh, sad peter :(

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thirty-three. fourteen.

thirty-three missed calls, and fourteen voice mails.

you had tried to call him thirty-three times, and left fourteen voice mails. peter had four-teen memories of your voice.

you always told peter everything was hopeless, that people wouldn’t keep their promises so they should never even try to make one. especially when it is something as serious as this one.

“look, you write your name right here. and then give me your signature, promising you won’t do anything until our next meeting.” the woman sitting in front of your desk had a sad smile plastered on her face, her eyes showing you nothing but pity. in the other room, behind the white door, was peter sitting on the green sofa and waiting for you to come out. he had offered you to come with you to your next therapy session, but not come inside. your therapist wouldn’t let him in anyway.

“what exactly does this do? last time i was here, i didn’t need to sign anything,” you question as you sit up straight, grabbing the pen she handed you and starting to write down the first letter of your name.

“it gives me the permission to let you go home and not take you anywhere. and also lets me know you won’t do anything to yourself. i trust you,” she sighs. you frown and stop writing.

“take- take me where? you promised i wouldn’t need to get admitted anywhere. my dad-”

“you have an awesome support system. your boyfriend outside waiting, your dad offering you to hang out and more. but we don’t think that’s enough if you won’t come out of your room or at least try to get better.” she explains to you, nodding to her notebook, remembering you of the other sessions she had to use it in and write down your current routine. wake up, lay in bed for hours, sometimes get up and eat, go back to your room.

“i’m already trying to get better. what is this if not getting better?” you give her a spiteful smile, leaving your signature on the open page and putting the pen back down.

“alright, i’ll let you go for now. if i see you not getting any better, we’ll have to talk with your dad. and i don’t think you’d be content with the decision we’d have to make.” you roll your eyes, leaning back.

“i don’t think i’m content with whatever decision that’s going to be made without my consent. i’m good!” she sighs once again, hiding the notebook in her desk drawers and getting up.

that fucking notebook. a look at it and you regret every word you let out to this woman.

you get up too, and make your way to the door.

“i hope to see you next week. enjoy your time, and say hi from me to peter and your friends!” she waves at you, a little too happy for what conversation you just had with her. you give her a forced, tight-lipped smile and leave the room. closing the door behind you, you’re met with peter leaning on a wall and on his phone. when he hears the door and sees you standing there, he puts his phone in his pocket and instantly takes you in his arms.

“how was it?” he smiles. why the fuck is he smiling.

“meh. had to sign some paper and promise i wouldn't do anything until our next meeting. dumb promise.” his smile falls, frowning.

“what- why is it dumb? you won’t do anything, right?” you turn to look at him.

“i mean, i try? like, do you think that if i was on the verge on doing something i’d think about that page in her notebook and stop? of course not, peter! that’s not how it works.”

“i- i hope you won’t do anything to yourself,” he whispers. you groan and throw your head back.

“you all need to stop for hoping so much.”

the day before, you two had a fight over some useless thing. well, for you it was useless. it meant so much more to peter. of course it did, but of course you couldn’t understand.

because how would a person that has given up on everything understand a person that still hoped for the best and for the light at the end of a tunnel? it wasn’t possible.

he begged you to look at the situation from his point of view, and you did. you told him you tried to and could understand that it hurt him. but you also told him how selfish it is from him to want you to keep going in all this pain, just because he would miss you. apparently, it meant that you’d continue for him, not for you.

peter didn’t pick up. he didn’t feel like listening to you blaming him and accusing him to be a selfish boyfriend, asking you to stay for him instead of giving you reasons to stay that would help you.

he didn’t feel like yelling at you again, or hearing you yell through the phone.

but he wished he did. now, he wished he picked up the phone more than ever.

with a shaky breath, he clicked on the first voice mail you left on his phone with his thumb, waiting for the worst.

a sob could be heard before your voice rang through the speaker of his phone. it had a crack on the screen after he threw it against his wall when tony told him what happened. he felt like letting out all the build up anger he had from your fight.

“peter-” crack “i’m sorry, i just really need you right now”

“can you please pick up...please”

“scold and yell at me later, but this is important just call me”

he shuts his eyes, letting out a breath.

“if you call me later i don’t know if i’ll be able to pick up” your voice cracks again, and he hears your sobbing for a couple of seconds before there’s a long bleep.

yesterday was okay. he saw you. then the fight ensued. and now he’ll never, ever see you again. he wishes time between friday afternoon and today morning never happened. he wishes he could take the blue clock hanging on his wall above his desk, rotate the pointer all the way back and never mention your problems or therapy sessions.

he opens his instagram, going through the messages sent between wednesday and thursday. you hadn’t attended school, said your head hurt too much and that you felt dizzy. you only messaged mj telling her how you felt. she was the one telling peter and ned that you wouldn’t come to school the next few days because you were sick.

he then visited the compound on friday. directly going to your room, ignoring steve’s hello and bucky asking him why he seemed so nervous and mad.

“the door to your room opens, startling you and sending your laptop on your lap almost to the floor. you quickly shut it, not letting the person entering your room see whatever was playing on the screen.

you let out a breath of relief when you see it’s only peter. oh.

“you scared me. do you not know how to knock?!” you groan, placing the laptop on your nightstand and draping the covers over your frame. was it always so cold in your room?

“oh, so now you feel better?” he snarls. you frown confused. why the fuck is he so angry at you? he just came in.

“what are you so angry for? and don’t we have school until three on fridays? it’s one, peter”

he rolls his eyes and closes the door, stepping closer to your bed, but not sitting down.

“you don’t come to school for three days, not reading any of my messages, ignoring everyone sending you a message or asking where you’ve been. and then tell mj you won’t come because your head hurts and you’re dizzy?! stop lying!” you gasp, slowly getting up, scared stars are going to cloud your vision once again.

“are you fucking accusing me of lying? i feel dizzy and my head hurts! not as much as it did the past three days, but it does!” you yell.

peter’s gaze wanders through your room, halting on the lunch box on your desk. he nods to it and your gaze follows his.

“did you eat yet?” he murmurs. you throw your head back, instantly regretting it. maybe you should’ve taken your vitamins today. and yesterday. and wednesday. or maybe just the whole week.

“no. but i-” you get cut off by him scoffing and throwing his arms up.

“well, of course you’ll feel dizzy and like shit when you don’t eat or drink!”

“i did drink something! wanda made me some orange juice. and i had soup,” you argue back.

“yeah, because a cup of orange juice and bow of soup equals three days of meals, right?” he asks, raising his brows.

“you’re annoying. just leave me alone,” you say and sit back down, holding your head between your hands that are propped on your knees. peter doesn’t seem to let go. his voice echoing in your head, making the throb in your head worse.

“do you-” he pauses, running his hands over his face and sighing,” do you not understand that this is serious? you are hurting yourself. not just yourself.” your head snaps up, but you try to ignore the pain by squeezing your eyes shut before talking.

“what is that supposed to mean? i know what i am doing! i am not a child,” you huff.

“well, it feels like it when your family has to go after you and ask whether you ate. or drank. or took a shower!” he lists.

you lower your head, breathing out. he never knows when to stop, does he?

“can you just leave me alone? i’m so done,” you tell him, standing up and making your way to your door. you open it, patiently waiting for him to leave. he frowns and cusses.

“what the fuck? we just had a fight and you tell me to le-”

“if you don’t want me to fall down and fucking faint, then leave! this is too much. we can talk tomorrow.” you point to the door, stretching your arm out and waiting for him to leave. he steps closer to you, halting in front of you. you expect him to apologise or ask if you’re ok. never in a million years would you have expected the next words slipping through his lips.

“sometimes i ask myself why i even stay and help you.” the words slip through his words like honey, annoyance dripping off his voice.

he steps out the door, not turning around before walking to the elevator. your eyes don’t leave his figure until he’s out of eyesight and you close the door. feeling tears fill your eyes, you squeeze them shut and throw yourself on the bed.

there’s a knock on his door and he turns off his phone before responding with a quiet “come in,”. he’s afraid his voice might break if he speaks louder. like yours on the voice mail.

may steps into his room and closes the door quietly behind her. she knows what it is like to lose someone you love. but for peter, this may be the second person he lost.

his eyes are cast on his brown nightstand. a picture of you and him framed standing on it. that was the first time may had met you two years ago, she took the picture. it was one of you staring with wide eyes and a smile at the camera, peter turning his face to you when he heard the camera click and pressing a haste kiss on your cheek. in any other circumstance he would feel butterflies erupt in his stomach thinking about the moment. but, right now? he just wants to feel what he felt that day, happy and relieved.

“they’ll do an autopsy today,” may whispers as she sits down next to him. his head snaps to her.

his thoughts occupy his mind. will she feel it? will they give her a bath, and who will take off her clothes?

he remembers the first time you two took a bath together.

“the funereal will be first saturday in september,” she continues.

“in two weeks…” he whispers. his fingers are grabbing on his hoodie, the material hunched up in a fist making his knuckles turn white. may senses his nerves.

“tony asked if you’d like to visit the compound later. you- you can help him and pepper go through her room.”

the breath in his throat hitches.

he didn’t think about your room, clothes and stuff yet. he doesn’t want anyone to go through your notebooks or diary. to go through your phone and inspect the messages, pictures and videos shared with friends and other people you loved. he knows how much you hated it when someone goes through your phone, even if it’s just pepper or tony asking if they could search something on google.

peter nods, finally looking up at his aunt and staring into he eyes. they’re red, glossy and puffy. she’s been crying, too.

“ok, yeah ok tell him i want to help.” she nods, a sympathetic tight-lipped smile on her face as she hugs him carefully. he’s like glass now, she’s scared to break him if she touches him too rough or fast.

may leaves the room after a couple minutes of sitting in silence with her nephew, closing the door behind her and leaving peter alone with his own thoughts. he feels a shiver run down his spine and hugs himself. his room is suddenly so cold. like her body must be by now. it’s probably been around fourteen hours since they found her.

a sob escapes his lips and he cradles his head in his hands, squeezing his eyes shut as he tries to ignore whatever is going on in his head.

the next day feels like torutre. he has to force himself out of bed, not bothering to make it before walking straight out of his room and towards the kitchen after brushing his hair. he still has on his clothes from yesterday, not having felt like changing and instantly falling asleep on his bed.

may’s already sitting on a chair, breakfast prepared in front her. he sees a plate filled with mini donuts where he normally sits.

“i thought you’d want to eat something before going to tony. it’s already one, and i didn’t want to wake you up in case you needed some rest.” she blows over her cup of tea, looking at him. he sighs and steps closer to her, engulfing her in a tight hug. taken by surprise, she sets her mug down and pulls him closer. he can’t waste another second not letting the people he loves know he loves them. i shouldn’t have left her. may breaks the hug as she feels him sob on her shoulder, sighing.

“it’s ok. you’ll go to see a part of her today, pete,” she smiles and holds his head down on her shoulder. he nods slowly, brushing his wet face and the tears away, pulling away from her hug and taking a deep, shaky breath.

“i should-,” he clears his throat,” i should get going. i don’t want them waiting just for me.” he turns around and walks to the door and his shoes, putting them on.

“you call me when there is something, alright?” may stands next to him, hand on her hip and her other hand holding the cup she was sipping from before. peter nods.

“if you want to stay, you just call me or send me a message. i won’t be mad,” she hugs him again, letting him go only for him to open the door and leave after a quick goodbye.

when he finally arrived, he walks in not greeting anyone, making a straight bee line to the kitchen. he hoped tony would be there waiting for him.

“-body found in her own room, yeah.” steve’s voice interrupts peter’s train of thoughts, making him snap his head to the blond standing leaned against the kitchen counter and with a phone in head, back turned to the entrance so he can’t see peter walk in. he turned around instantly when he heard steps behind him, eyes widening when noting the brown haired boy standing on the other side of the counter, hands fiddling with his hoodie.

he mutters something into the speaker of his phone, hanging up and placing the phone on the counter. peter’s eyes are glued to it, as if staring into it could bring you back. as if he stared long and strong enough, the bubble would break and you’d walk out of some corner with your arms wide open yelling “surprise!”

he misses you already. he misses every time he’d pick up the phone at two am because you had another nightmare. he wants to tell you love is endless and hear your giggles instead of groans saying “stop hoping too much, peter” he wants to be able to see the old you.

or maybe not. were you always the way you were? or did you pretend to be happy, until it reached a breaking point and everybody thought this was temporary or going on since a couple of months instead of years.

he thinks about the salty tears on your cheek every time you’d cry on his shoulder and vent and he starts regretting all the times he saw the red flags and chose to ignore you, chose to tell you to continue and stay for him instead of giving you reasons for you.

but it’s too late. sorry is a word. he doesn’t know how to bring you back. sorry won’t do anything. sorry won’t make time stop and let him grieve. or better, bring you back into his arms. he hoped you could at least have given him a warning. maybe then, then he could’ve ran to you and stop you? or maybe stop whatever reason made you end up like right now.

the calls. he remembers all the missed calls and voice mails, squeezing his eyes shut. those were the warnings. you tried to ask him for help. you begged him for help and he didn’t listen. he decided to listen to his brain instead of hurt, the only logic solution being ignoring you so you saw how hurt he was. but, he didn’t think about you. he didn’t think about how hurt you were. because even after visiting therapy and having a support system, that’s not enough. it has to come from you, but he didn’t know how. he didn’t know how to make you realize there was a reason to stay. not only one, but more.

“do- do they know why she-” he won’t speak it out loud. his brain stopping him before his words left his lips. steve sighs, eyes cast down on the phone. it lit up with a message from pepper, telling him to get more plastic bags. they must’ve started cleaning, and found more things to throw away. or keep. tony had a lot of space here, he knows where to put things even if he won’t use them for years. or ever.

“they’re not sure what the cause was. judging by the situation, we got told it could- could’ve been her. but she was already weak. maybe it was that,” he whispers. peter had never seen steve so emotional.

steve felt like the scariest situations in his life kept repeating and leaving him speechless and in pain. first he had lost bucky thinking he died, then he lost peggy. now you. he hadn’t seen you a whole day before it happened. didn’t even have the chance to say goodbye. it made him die inside. but then again, he couldn’t have known this would happen.

peter nods for what feels like the hundredth time today. he won’t open his mouth. words could spill out like a waterfall or crack like glass hitting the floor and he just doesn’t trust his mind anymore.

“can i go into her room?” he asks. steve nods, giving him a sad smile. peter makes his way to your room, silently staring at the floor and every step he takes. usually, you’d be walking next to him. there’d be small skips in his steps, excited to enter your room and throw himself on your comfortable bed. the last time he visited before the fight happened, it was his turn to pick a movie and he picked tangled. you giggled at his sweet decision. but what could you say? it was one of his favourite movies and you loved seeing him mouth along to the lyrics of the songs, or seeing his eyes lit up when rapunzel and flynn finally kissed. it melted your heart.

now she’s forever cold.

the door to your room is open, shuffling and words coming from inside.

he pinches himself, wishing this was all a nightmare and that maybe if he walks through that door and into your room, he’d find you sitting on your bed with two bowls of your favourite ice cream in hand, waiting for him with a bright smile.

at some point she stopped taking more than two scoops of ice cream, telling me the rest was mine because i loved it so much.

he blinks back tears before stepping into your room, coming eye to eye with tony.

“kid,” he says, walking to him. peter spots the book in his hands, your name written on it in cursive letters. your diary. tony notices the gaze on the item in his hand, stretching out his arm, signaling for peter to take the book.

he takes it with a frown, gulping. he doesn’t want to read your deepest thoughts or the things you’d write inside it every time you felt like there was no way out and didn’t dare to tell anyone, call him.

you wouldn’t have picked up anyway.

his eyes fill with tears again and he bites down on his lip in an attempt to stop his lips from quivering. tony notices, stepping closer and engulfing the teenage boy in a tight hug, letting him sob into his shoulder.

he can feel tony’s shoulder shake too, letting him know that he’s also crying.

“i’m sorry, i’m so sorry. she called me and i- i-,” tony only hugs him tighter and he shuts up. the room is quiet besides the small sobs and whimpers coming from the two in the room.

it feels empty with with all your bookshelves not filled. the white one next to your bed used to have all the books you had to read yet and the one you were currently reading. the other one, next to your desk, had books you had already read and some school books.

the wall next to your wardrobe used to be decorated with pictures of thing you liked and your friends. there were selfies of you and peter, mj, ned. all together, some with you and each one of them alone together in one. there used to be a row of pictures of your favorite movie hang up. the wall in front of your desk still has pictures of high buildings, the ocean and beach. every time peter visited your room, there was a picture more of a place you wanted to visit or live in. you used to hang up pictures right in front of your workspace to motivate yourself to work harder, better. to not get distracted.

to his surprise, your desk is still filled with books, notebooks and more.

tony pulls away first, patting the boy in front of him on his shoulder but not making eye contact. he looks sadly around the room. your bed is so empty.

“we should get going. i put all her books in that corner,” he explains and points to the corner behind the door. there were three stacks of books. the boy nods.

“i’ll give you a plastic bag for all her clothes. if you see something you’d like to keep, like a shirt or something, keep it. the rest is getting donated,” he says. peter gups. he isn’t ready to let go like this. it’s just clothing. his mind tells him. he’s right, it’s just clothing. but they were worn by his girlfriend. it reminded him of you.

when he was done with emptying your drawers and wardrobe, he turned back around to tony. he didn’t expect to be done this fast, but pepper came in and decided to help both of them.

“mr. stark, what about her desk?” he pointed to the desk, still filled with all your belongings. tony gives pepper a look.

“we thought you’d like to go through it. we found some texts, letters and stuff. most of them were for you and friends,” pepper says behind him. he turns to her, frowning.

“what-what should i do with the rest? when i keep the things i want to keep, i mean.” he asks.

“you can take the letters and texts and give them to who they belong to. the rest, you can keep if you want. pepper and i went over it earlier and took,” he breathes in, memories of the words you had written down months ago flooding through his brain,” we took some letters that were for us. i won’t throw away the rest. only going to store it in another, smaller room.” peter can’t help but sigh. why do they have to clean your room so fast? it’s not even been twenty-four hours. as if tony could hear his thoughts, he cut him off.

“we’re cleaning in case we find something that could hint to all this,” he explains.

tony and pepper leave the room, leaving peter sitting alone on your bed and pulling out his phone.

he notes the voice mails he didn’t listen to yet, mentally preparing himself to hear your voice once again. he decides to listen to one of them.

“can we solve this tomorrow? i just- i really need you right now, please,” your voice comes out muffled. he guesses you may be holding your hand over your mouth. it hurts to think about you trying to muffle your cries because you were going through too much at once.

he sees a tear drop down on his phone screen, wiping it away and scoffing.

he didn’t pick up the phone when you needed him the most. so why is he crying? why is he said?

“you’re mad i know and i know you’re on your phone,” that was a lie. he wasn’t. he was crying into his pillow after your fight regretting what he had said and throwing his phone against the wall.

“please please i can’t do this alone. i don’t want to.”

he listened to the rest of them. all fourteen voice mails.

thirty-three. fourteen.

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dollslayer · 3 years

Text

Fight or Flight

Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: Steve comes clean, in the aftermath and shock you turn to the one person who you know you can trust.

W/C: 2,369

Warnings: Implied cheating, angst, swearing

A/N: Hello! I wrote this for @sweetlyscared 's 1k celebration (congrats, it's well deserved!), prompt is in bold. I'm still pretty new to writing and this is my first true Angst fic so any and all reblogs/comments are super appreciated! Please check out my other stuff if you liked this fic!! Cheers!

PART TWO I Masterlist

____

The feeling of everything crashing around you was slow. Like your world was moving in slow motion as you processed the words. Everything else he was saying became distorted, going to waste as he tried desperately to explain himself to you. All you could hear clearly was your own breathing while you tried to will yourself to do something, anything.

Fight or flight is a funny thing, you were always so feisty and eager to fight back, A Bulldog, Steve had affectionately called you. But when he told you he was in love with someone else, that he has been in love with someone else for months, your body couldn’t find anything in it but to walk away.

Your breathing picked up and your eyes searched the ground, refusing to meet his. You felt your legs raise you up to stand and start walking away, unsure of your destination. When you pivoted to leave the room your eyes met his briefly, staring emotionlessly as his desperately searched for anything at all in yours.

“Where are you going? Doll, please, can we talk about this? I’m, I’m so sorry I-”

Whatever else he was saying wasn’t heard over the noise of opening the door and shutting it behind you. You didn’t know where you were going or what you were feeling other than the obvious. You were in a state of shock, it’s one thing to hear awful news and another to understand that it’s true but you were fastly approaching that truth head-on.

You paused for a moment in the hall and heard no movement come after you. You almost let yourself be surprised but he’d admitted he gave up on you a long time ago, so it only makes sense he wouldn’t fight your exit. You kept walking and tried to hold the floodgates of your heart closed for a bit longer.

Flashes of what was said come back to you slowly as reality sets in. “I can’t put this off any longer. I want you to know that I will always love you, but there’s someone else.”

Your head hurt like it would as if you were already crying, the blood pumping in your ears and pressure building in your temples that would no doubt evoke a long-standing headache. Your face felt hot as you stepped into the elevator, maybe you’d go for a walk in an attempt to fend off your tears. Or maybe you’d walk to a safer place to have an emotional breakdown. Whichever is easier.

Brisk gusts of air greet you as you exit the building, making you realize you left your jacket on the arm of the couch. You took a second to evaluate yourself and noticed you’d also walked out in your house slippers and a thin pair of leggings. Trying to evade the cold you tucked yourself in the doorway of a bodega down the street and dialed Bucky.

Two rings and he picked up.

“Hello?”

“Did you know?”

The silence on the line only reminds you of the blood pumping in your ears. The silence tells you everything you needed to know.

“Liste-”

You hang up.

You’re breathing even harder now. Who else knew? For how long? How long was I the joke? You need to find somewhere else to be soon or all these strangers are going to get an eyeful of a grown woman sobbing. You dial the last number you’d expect to at a time like this.

“What’s happening, shortstack?”

You can hear Tony’s grin through the phone and his easy greeting gives you momentary comfort.

“Can I come over? Something happened.”

“I’ll let Jarvis know to let you in” Tony’s tone is understanding, not needing you to explain further, just letting you know you can come to him.

____

Tony’s only seven blocks from yours and Steve’s shared apartment, a fact you’re grateful for when you feel your feet aching every time they hit the pavement. The conversation replays in your head, you try to word what happened in your head and your anger starts overtaking the heartbreak. It’s almost a welcome reprieve from the settling heartbreak but you’re not sure if you’d rather be numb to it completely.

When the elevator doors open Tony’s waiting for you with two tumblers of scotch in hand. You shake your head and move past him to the couch. He joins you on the opposite armchair and sets both his elbows down on his spread knees, resting his face in his hands.

“Would you like to talk about it or not talk about it?” He asks with a sigh.

You don’t make eye contact with him so you don’t cry, choosing to focus on the Iron Man coffee table book you’d gotten as a gag gift for Tony all those Christmases ago. It almost distracts you enough to laugh, the fact that he just has it out. But you need to tell someone what happened and get it all out before you can let yourself feel it all.

“Steveisinlovewithsomeoneelse,” You rushed it all out in one breath afraid if you didn’t get it out fast enough that you’d break. “He has been for months. He said he doesn’t know when it all changed but when he was with her things just clicked,” you paused to collect yourself, “But don’t worry, I’ll always hold a special place in his heart and he hopes this won’t affect the future of the team or our friendship.”

“Oh, and he’s really sorry.” you added.

You laughed bitterly and shook your head in disbelief. His delivery had been so cold but so sincere, very to the point but pained in its delivery. “I just, whatever we had, it’s just gone. Things are just different now, with her, this kills me though, please believe me. You’re still really special to me.” Bullshit. Special enough to act as a placeholder until someone better comes, special enough to cast aside.

You’re broken momentarily from your spiral into anger by the sound of a glass hitting a coaster a little too hard. Looking up, you find Tony quietly seething. He and Steve aren’t close by any means so you figured that he wouldn’t have known, it’s why you called him over anyone else.

He moves slowly to your side on the couch and pulls you into his side. You can smell his aftershave and what you think might be burned grease from one of the many things he’s been tinkering with in the lab, it smells like him, like comfort.

“That fucking asshole. Unbelievable, I don’t even…” He leaves the thought unfinished.

His hands move up and down your arms in a soothing motion and you finally let yourself have it. You don’t even realize you’re crying until you feel the tears wet his shirt when you bury your face in. You sniffle up tears and snot when your face heats up.

There’s no way to know how long Tony lets you sob into him, no doubt ruining his vintage Depeche Mode shirt. Somewhere in the back of your mind you make a mental note to buy him a new one later. But for now you’ll just allow yourself to cry and you can deal with the world in the morning.

____

Tony lets you fall asleep on his chest, feeling somewhere between furious and heartbroken by proxy. He thinks about letting you sleep and giving Steve a piece of his mind but figures that’s not what you need right now. Your phone sits on the table and he touches the screen to check the time. No notifications on your homescreen except for a missed call from Bucky and an old photo of Steve making a funny face as your background.

Had Steve not even tried to call you? Had he not even tried to go after you? Why was Bucky of all people the only one to be trying to get a hold of you? Prick.

Selfishly Tony is glad that he has a good reason to be rude to Steve now, he has to admit. You two had always been close but when you and Steve started dating he saw less and less of you. He couldn’t fault you for it though, you were so in love with Steve and you knew that the relationship between the two of them was strained so you kept your distance a bit.

He thought of all the sacrifices you’d made for Steve. You gave up your childhood home in the Bronx that your parents had willed to you to move in with him because he wanted you to be closer to the tower. You gave up a promotion and transfer to DC when you were still just an agent, granted you were an avenger now but it doesn’t matter, he’d made a very big deal out of you turning it down. You gave up the friendship the two of you had.

It was incredible, really. How much you had done for him only for him to turn around and love someone else behind your back. Brave enough to fight aliens and terrorists but too cowardly to break up with you and leave you with some dignity. Did anyone else know about this?

Tony had to stop himself from getting too angry, afraid he’d wake you up. So instead he went back to plotting up schematics for the half-finished suit mod he’d been in the middle of when you called.

____

It’s been a week and you still haven’t properly talked to Steve. After two days on Tony’s couch you need to look at things from a logical stance. Where am I going to stay? It’s not like you had your parent’s place anymore and you didn’t want to sign a new lease on an apartment. You could always move into the tower but that meant a higher chance of running into Steve.

You were thinking about all of this out loud to Tony when he offered you the guest bedroom in his penthouse. You were shocked, he’s always been a generous man but after you drifted apart from him you were surprised he even let you stay these past few days. Maybe now was a good time to rebuild your friendship with him and have some space from work.

What’s work going to be like? You agree and go on a temporary leave from the team, just a month to collect yourself. If you really wanted to you could go back but the thought of seeing everyone that knew about Steve’s affair was humiliating and enraging in one go.

It turns out Sam had been playing therapist to Steve in all of this, Nat figured it out through some sleuthing, and Wanda had inadvertently heard his thoughts about her. And none of them thought to tell you? To save you from the anguish but to let it fester? Steve wasn’t the only one that betrayed you. They all had.

What will I say to him? Should I say anything to him? Turns out the answer was ‘nothing’. You texted him to let him know you were moving out and you’d be by to get your things as a courtesy. You walked into an empty apartment and you were almost relieved.

He’d chosen to not be here but he’d left you a letter on the kitchen counter next to a framed photo of the two of you on vacation last year. You scoff but don’t touch the letter. Every ounce of restraint you have is being used as you leave it untouched. But you don’t need to know what excuses or apologies he has on deck, nothing he could say would exonerate him of his wrong-doings. You had no intentions of speaking to him but secretly you hoped he suffered as he stewed in his guilt and inner-turmoil. He deserves to.

When you pack you leave every gift he ever gave you, taking only what you’d brought with you in the first place. You take one look at the unmade bed and almost go to make it out of habit but then you think of the two of them there together. All the long missions you went on without him, all the times you stayed late at work or went out with your friends. How many times had he been here with her while you were there?

You end up only leaving with two suitcases and a backpack full of things. Tony waits for you in the lobby, understanding you wanted your space when you went to get your things in case Steve was there.

The elevator doors open to him taking a selfie with a couple of fans and shaking hands. He’s all too happy to be recognized but when he sees you his eyes soften. Not out of pity, but fondness, like he’s proud of you for getting out.

He sends you a questioning look with a silent question. Are you okay?

You smile at him and for the first time in days it’s a genuine, non-placating, happy-to-see-you smile. It’s okay, I’ll be okay.

He takes one of your suitcases from you and helps you load them into the back of the car before opening the door for you. The drive back to Tony’s is silent but comfortable. The trust you have in each other is strong and unspoken. Something you’ve always been grateful for between the two of you.

He doesn’t ask you about Steve or what happened, always letting you come to him first, which you appreciate. And when you talk he just listens. No bullshit unsolicited advice about moving on or how everything happens for a reason or getting back out there, just listens.

You know the road ahead is long and it will be difficult, but you have someone in your corner and the knowledge that what happened isn’t your fault and that you’re a badass and fuck Steve Rogers and fuck anyone else that did you wrong in all of this. Maybe you’ll forgive them someday but for now you’re gonna focus on you and work on building yourself back up. You’re ready for the ups and downs, you’re ready to fight.

#sweetlysad1kchallenge #steve rogers x reader #tony stark & reader #steve rogers angst #angst #implied cheating #marvel fic #marvel au #marvel x reader

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writethelifeyouwant · 3 years

Text

Aversion Therapy

Summary: Y/N has been institutionalised for sex addiction at an experimental facility, run by Dr. Sam Winchester.

Pairing: Doctor!Sam x Reader Rating: 18+ Warnings: Sex addiction, addiction therapies, abuse of therapist/patient relationship, noncon roleplay Tags: hair pulling, crotchless panties, degradation (like, a lot), blow job, spitting, pussy spanking, sex on a desk, body writing, p in v, pulling out Word Count: 4.5 k Created for: @samwinchesterbingo - Doctor!Sam | @spnkinkbingo - Crotchless Panties | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Hair Pulling | @j3bingo - Diary

A/N: So I this may or may not be one of the dirtiest things I've ever written. It's definitely up there in the list 😅I hope you enjoy, fellow sinners!

October 24th

Last night was awesome. He took me out to dinner and everything, real gentleman, even though we both knew that’s not what the night was about. It was sunset when we got up to the lookout, all romantic. I felt silly that he was making such a big deal about it. Losing your virginity shouldn’t be so much pressure. Now it’s over I don’t feel any different except that I want more. We went twice last night but that still wasn’t enough. I touched myself this morning and it was almost like I could still feel him inside of me. I think tonight I’m gonna let him do it without the condom, so he will still be inside me tomorrow morning.

“What the hell are you doing?” you shout, outraged. It wasn’t enough that your parents had locked you in this place, humiliating you, betraying you, handing you over to Doctor Judgy, but they’d handed over your diaries too. Fucking great. Dr. Winchester ignores you and keeps reading, skipping ahead a few weeks.

November 15th

Fuck I love sex. Even with guys that aren’t great at it it’s still worth it just to have a cock inside me. I wish I could stay the night somewhere without my parents freaking out. I want to fall asleep with a cock inside me the whole time, wake up to it fucking me, keeping me open. College is gonna be the best. Then I can finally do what I want, fuck who I want. Can finally order a freaking vibrator without mom asking what’s in the package. Ugh, I can’t wait.

Sam’s voice sounds unnatural reading out your words. He’s not putting the right emotion or inflection in them. It’s like he’s taunting you with them. There’s a trace of humour underlying everything he says.

“Why are you doing this?” you shout again, and Sam looks up at you from your diary, a smug smile on his lips.

“Because you’re sick, Y/N,” he states it like an obvious fact, shutting the diary with a loud clunk and waving it back and forth. “These are the words of an addict.”

“I’m not an addict,” you scoff, rolling your eyes. Sam raises his eyebrows at you and flicks open your diary again, thumbing through to a page he has marked with a turned down corner.

February 3rd

That’s it, I’m addicted to cock. I need it more than coffee or air or food. I just want to be on my knees all day and let men use me. I want them in my mouth, in my pussy, even in my ass, I don’t care. I just want them. One day I’ll figure out how to make that happen.

Sam gives you an accusatory look as he closes the diary again, and you do have the good sense to look a little sheepish. Having your thirsty words read back to you is embarrassing. Especially considering the man reading them out is extremely attractive. If you’d met him when you were out you would have been on him in a heartbeat.

You can’t help it, your eyes drop to his crotch, which is just below your eye level where he’s leaning against the front edge of his desk. Dr. Winchester notices your gaze and smirks down at you knowingly. The expression makes him even hotter – domineering and sexy.

“You really are a little slut. Get carted off to rehab and the first thing you do is eye up your therapist,” he clicks his tongue disappointedly, and you blush for a moment before you decide that you don’t want to take this shit from him.

“So what,” you shrug, leaning back in your chair and crossing your arms. Dr. Winchester raises a brow again, surprised by your boldness.

“You don’t think it’s inappropriate to think about your therapist in a sexual manner?” He pushes himself off his desk and settles his hands in his pockets, considering you carefully.

“I like cock, so what?” you say again defiantly. The doctor keeps his expression neutral, walking around his desk and sitting down, grabbing a notepad and scribbling down a few things. You watch him suspiciously, wanting to know what he was writing down. “I’m not crazy, I just really like sex.” Dr. Winchester nods and keeps writing, not looking up at you.

“Come on, are you saying you don’t like sex?” you try to rile him up, and you see a small laugh bleed through his careful exterior, but not the kind of reaction you were hoping for. “What, your manhood not measure up or something?” That gets the doctor’s attention. He shoots you a glare over his desk and puts aside his pen, folding his hands in front of him and staring you down. His eyes drag across you from top to bottom, lingering on your lips, your neck, your cleavage, your legs. You like him looking at you like this, it sends a thrill through your chest, settling in the pit of your stomach.

“I can see that your attitude is going to make traditional therapies somewhat difficult.” You roll your eyes, but let him keep talking. “Have you heard of aversion therapy?” You shake your head shortly. “Aversion therapy is a psychological treatment in which the patient,” Dr. Winchester gestures to you, “is exposed to a stimulus while simultaneously being subjected to some form of discomfort, in an attempt to discourage said behaviour.”

“Um, English, please?” you stare at the doctor blankly, not putting together how this is going to apply to you.

“Well,” Dr. Winchester leans back in his chair, and swings his legs up onto his desk and brings his hands to fold in his lap. It makes him look surprisingly casual - not at all the image you had of doctors and therapists in your mind. “In this case, the stimulus is an unwanted behaviour, your over zealous sexual cravings and actions. We need to introduce an element of discomfort or unpleasantness into your experience of that behaviour, to discourage future indulgences,” he explains.

“What are you gonna do, Doctor?” you sneer at his title. “Put me in an electroshock chair and make me watch porn? Newsflash - that sounds amazing,” you scoff. Honestly, if that’s going to be your therapy, you’ll drop the attitude and sign the fuck up right now.

Dr. Winchester shakes his head, a small smirk on his lips. He stands, removing his jacket and tossing it on the back of the chair, then proceeds to unbutton the cuffs of his sleeves and roll them back, one at a time. You watch him suspiciously. The moment his jacket came off your head went straight to one conclusion, but that couldn’t be right. You find your eyes lingering on his forearms, the veins in them pulsing visibly just below the surface of his skin. You want to lick them.

“No you’re right, you’d enjoy that far too much.” The doctor’s voice brings you back to yourself and you look up, watching him slowly approaching your chair. “We won’t be associating a physical discomfort with the addiction, what we want is to alter your mental associations towards the behaviour. We’ll use a series of mantras, and repetition and after a period of good, focused work, we can start to transition you back to a home environment.” His hand comes up to grip the back of your wooden chair, right beside your ear, and you can feel the heat radiating from his body against your skin despite the several inches still separating you.

Between your legs, you can feel how much Dr. Winchester’s proximity is beginning to affect you. For some reason the way he’s speaking to you, so formal and condescending, is really turning you on. You bet if he knew, he’d just say it was another sign of your “addiction”. You can feel your panties starting to get a little slippery when you shift in your seat to look up at him, and you don’t manage to stifle your small intake of breath when the open crotch of the underwear accidentally catches on one of your pussy lips, sending a delicious tug of pain into your core.

Dr. Winchester smirks down at you, entirely unsubtle, probably assuming that gasp was your reaction to him being so near.

Finally, after far too long staring at him, you manage to take a breath and ask- “what exactly is my therapy going to be, then?” Your voice comes out much higher than you’d anticipated, and you feel your cheeks heat up in embarrassment.

Dr. Winchester’s hand drags along the top of the chair and lands on the back of your neck. You shiver when his skin touches yours, despite its warmth. His fingers wind themselves into your hair a second later and yank hard, pulling your head over the back of the chair so you’re forced to look straight up at him.

“Ow! What the hell?!” You reach behind you to try to break his grip but he just pulls again. The pain sends a new tendril of desire twisting down your spine to between your legs, and you feel your panties getting even wetter. You whimper, your arousal clearly evident to the doctor, who laughs.

“Yeah, I knew you’d be too into pain for that kind of thing to work,” he chuckles darkly. He bends down, face so close to yours you can feel his breath ghost against your cheek. “So here’s what we’re going to do instead. I’m gonna fuck you, but you’re going to make sure you don’t enjoy it. You’re going to cry and yell and beg me to stop.” He practically growls, nose brushing against yours, lips hovering just out of reach.

Your pussy clenches at his words, aroused beyond belief at the disdain he’s treating you with. You struggle against his grip deliberately, relishing in the renewed sting as his hand pulls your hair even tighter to keep you still.

“You really don’t get it, do you Dr. Winchester,” you try to laugh but your throat is taut and your air isn’t quite flowing easily enough to let you. “I like cock. I wanted you to fuck me the second I saw you. There’s nothing you could say or do that would make me want you to stop.”

“I think we can drop the formalities now,” he releases you, standing up and reaching for his belt. “It’s Sam, not ‘Doctor Winchester’.”

Your eyes drop to his hands immediately, watching his fingers deftly push his button through its hole and pull down his zip. He’s already hard, you can tell by the tent in his boxers, but you’re astonished to see when he pulls himself out that he’s actually only semi hard – his cock is just huge. You feel your mouth and your pussy water in equal measure.

“Fuck,” you whisper as he starts to stroke himself, eyes tracing up and down your body hungrily as he does so.

“You want this cock, Y/N?” he asks pointedly, and you nod mutely. “Use your words then.”

“Yes,” you breathe instantly, dropping to your knees on the hard, grey carpet in front of him.

“Then you don’t get it,” Sam smirked, contradictorily walking himself closer to you as he speaks, hand still pumping his cock.

“Please?” you beg, hoping that’s the game he’s trying to play. Maybe he thinks he can humiliate you enough that you won’t want to repeat the experience – he’s going to be wrong.

“Nope.” Sam pops the ‘p’ on the word teasingly. “Your mantra for today is ‘no’.”

“What?” you look up to him, confused.

“Anytime I ask you if this is what you want – if you want my cock in your mouth, in your pussy, anywhere I want to put it – anytime I ask you if you want it, you have to say ‘no’,” he smiles down at you like some kind of evil genius, and you’re getting annoyed now that you find this so fucking hot.

“You want me to pretend you’re raping me? Sounds like you need therapy.” Sam laughs, not at all offended by your jab.

“We’re trying to condition a new response, Y/N,” he explains lightly, still jacking himself off maddeningly close to your lips. It takes every ounce of self control you have not to lean forward and suck him down on the spot. “If you want my cock inside you, then you have to tell me you don’t. And hopefully, with time, you’ll start to believe what you’re saying out loud. You’ll believe that you don’t need this, don’t want this.” He taps his cock against your lips and your tongue chases him immediately, reaching for a taste of the liquid you felt pooling on his tip.

“Uh, uh, uh,” he pulls himself away, tutting. “What do you say, Y/N?”

You swallow your pride and give him what he’s asking, though begrudgingly.

“No, please, don’t.” Your voice is monotone, lifeless – like how you used to read out loud in English class when the teacher called on you.

“C’mon, you know that’s not good enough. How are you going to believe yourself if I don’t believe you?” Sam walks closer again and sets his cock against your mouth lightly. “You wanna suck my cock, baby?”

“No,” you manage to choke out, and your hesitance to say the word must sound like hesitance to give him a blow job because Sam buys it, and the next moment he’s pushing the shiny, pink head past your lips, against your tongue; not stopping until he hits the top of your throat. He pulls back again, taking himself completely out of your mouth.

“You want it?” he asks again, grinning down at you.

“No,” you whimper, while inside every fibre of your body is screaming – yes!

“Good girl,” he groans as he pushes himself back inside, and you moan along with him. This time he doesn’t stop himself, fucking all the way into your throat until your nose is pressed against the skin of his stomach. “Fuck, you really are a cockslut,” Sam grunts above you, pulling back a little and starting to fuck your mouth in earnest. “You haven’t gagged once. Not many girls manage that with me.”

You believe him. Your jaw is already aching from the stretch of your lips around his girth but you savour the hurt. You love this; being on your knees for some guy you barely know with his cock shoved as far in as he can fit it. This is what you were made for, you know it, no matter how hard Sam’s going to try to talk you out of it.

He fucks your throat for a few more minutes, lulling you into a false sense of security. You’ve relaxed into it now, and you aren’t thinking about the therapy or the role play or any of it, you’re only thinking about his cock against your tongue, heavy and velvety and perfect. You cry out when he pulls away, taking in a shocked breath at the sudden emptiness.

“You want it back baby girl?” Sam asks breathlessly, and you allow yourself a moment to feel smug at how clearly affected he is by your ministrations.

“Please,” you beg, crawling towards him, forgetting your lines. Sam pulls away, disappointment evident on his face.

“Wrong answer, Y/N.”

“No!” you shout hoarsely, trying to correct yourself. “I mean no, please, no.”

“No,” Sam sucks in a breath, reaching to pull up his trousers like he’s going to put himself away. “No, I don’t think I believe you.”

“No, Sam, please!” you beg, reaching out for him. “I can do this,” you whisper, and Sam lets you take his cock in your hand, wrapping his fingers over yours and guiding your strokes. “Ask me again?”

“Do you want my cock, Y/N?” Sam raises an eyebrow.

“No,” you say firmly. “No, don’t make me do this.”

“Good girl,” he says again, his hand tightening over yours and using you to jerk himself off. “Do you want my cock, Y/N?”

“No,” you whine, trying to play into it even though your fingers start trying to jack him off faster of their own accord, your hands slipping together over the saliva you’d left behind.

“Do you want my cock in your pussy?” Sam growls, reaching his free hand out to snag your hair and pulling hard, causing you to shout out in delicious pain.

“No!” you squeal, trying to pull out of his hold, hoping you can act your way through this convincingly enough to get what you really want.

“No, whore?” Sam spits on you harshly, the wet striking you on the cheek and dripping down your chin.

“No,” you scream again as he pulls you off of the ground by your hair, throwing you forwards over his desk. Books and pads of paper go crashing to the ground. Pens scatter around you when your elbow hits the mug that was holding dozens of them.

“No?” you hear Sam scoff as he flips up the hem of your patient-issued uniform skirt, spotting the pair of crotchless panties you’re wearing beneath. “You’re telling me a slut like you, who gets put in an insititution for sex addiction, and decides to pack crotchless fucking panties, doesn’t want my cock stuffing her cunt full?”

“No, I don’t want it,” you moan, his words positively setting you on fire. Fuck, you want everything he’s saying and more.

“I don’t fucking believe you,” Sam spits between your legs, adding to the slick that must be visibly gathered there by now.

“No!” you cry out when he delivers a stinging blow to your pussy, palm landing right over the open slit of your panties. “No,” you sob out again as he continues to spank you, each hit making a sickly wet echo and sending a jolt of heat through your clit every time his fingers happen to catch it. “No, no, no,” you’re begging, even as you spread your legs wider and push your hips back into his hand, trying to angle yourself so he hits your small bundle of nerves more frequently.

“You’re fucking loving this aren’t you,” Sam is seething behind you. “I can feel how wet you are, you fucking whore. You want my cock now, huh? Want me to put all this slick to good use?” He dips his fingers into the crotch of your panties and comes away with his fingers drenched in your juices, which you see a moment later when he shoves them in your face, yanking you back by your hair again.

“See this slut? See how I can tell you’re lying to me? What’s all this for if it’s not to get you ready for my cock?”

“N–” you try to protest, needing him to believe you if you want to actually feel his cock inside you, but your words are cut off as he shoves his fingers into your mouth, making you lick yourself off his hand.

“That’s right, taste what a fucking embarrassment you are.” Sam lets go of your hair and from the corner of your eye you see his fingers reaching for one of the pens that you knocked onto the desk earlier. Pulling his fingers out of your mouth, he uncaps the pen and crouches down behind you, putting your pussy at eye level for him.

“I think we should let the world know just how much of a slut you really are.” You wonder what he means, feeling him draw a single line down your right buttock, then switching to your left and writing some words. “Now anyone who fucks you is gonna see my instructions, and know they have to leave a tally mark right here.” He slaps your ass hard where he had just drawn his own. “And every time you come back to me for a session with more tallies than you left with the last time I saw you, that’s just one more time you’re gonna have to go through this with me. To make sure we really break you out of this habit.”

You silently wonder how many guys there are in this hospital that you might want to fuck. He spanks you again and you clench, pussy convulsing at the threat and the thought of men keeping count of the cocks you’ve taken by literally writing it on your body. You feel a trickle of slick start to make its way down your thigh, and you know Sam must have noticed because he laughs darkly.

“You like the sound of that, don’t you? Are you already planning how to rack up your score as soon as I let you out of this office?” he sneers vehemently.

“No,” you shake your head, even though it’s entirely true. “No, I don’t want that, I promise, I don’t.”

“But you still want my cock?” Sam questions, and you feel the tip of his dick start to drag against you, up and down the slit of your panties.

“No, I don’t want it,” you insist, trying to keep yourself from pushing back onto him.

“Good girl, Y/N,” Sam pets at your lower back and braces himself as he starts to sink in. You both moan when he enters you, but to your chagrin he stops when he only has an inch or so inside. “You want me to keep going?” he pants, and you’re pleased to hear that he’s not as composed now that he’s got the head of his cock wedged between your legs.

“No,” you shake your head quickly, silently praying for him to continue.

“Very good,” he groans, and begins to thrust into you again; tiny, sharp motions to ease himself into you bit by bit.

“No, stop,” you whine without prompting, hoping to encourage him to go faster. He does. “No, no, no,” you chant until he’s sheathed himself completely inside you, his hips pressed firmly into yours, his hands squeezing around your waist possessively.

“No?” Sam asks teasingly, pulling out a little.

“No!” you cry again, and this time you do mean ‘no’ – you don’t want him to leave you. At your cry Sam pushes back in harshly, snapping his hips back against yours and moaning, the sound bubbling up deep from his chest. “No,” you try repeating the phrase, testing your theory, and you’re rewarded by Sam withdrawing and fucking back into you piercingly.

“Please stop, please,” you whimper, not able to stop yourself from rocking back into his thrusts as Sam starts a punishing pace.

“You fucking liar, you love this you little cockslut,” Sam grunts pointedly, taunting you.

“No,” you insist, still meeting him thrust for thrust. “No I don’t want this, I don’t want you!”

“You’re always going to want cock, always gonna beg for it.”

“No!”

“You want me to stuff you full everyday don’t you? Maybe more than that. I bet you’d sit under my desk all day with my cock in your mouth if I told you to,” he laughs, his harsh pace becoming even quicker. He’s not fucking you deeply now but that means that every time he pushes in the head of his cock punches hard against the sweet spot on the front of your pussy, making you clench around him.

“No,” you shudder, feeling yourself close to the brink of your release, and you wonder what he’ll do when you cum – a clear demonstration that you’re fucking loving this, despite what you’re saying out loud.

“Say it louder, bitch,” he grunts, reaching down and spanking hard against your clit.

“No, no, stop!” you shout, desperately trying to fuck yourself on his cock, your orgasm just out of reach.

“You want to cum on my cock?” Sam slaps you again but then starts to rub tiny circles just where you need them.

“N–no,” you stutter, unable to hold back your moan.

“You don’t want to cum baby, you sure?” he teases, angling his hips so he’s fucking your sweet spot with each drive into you.

“No,” you whine, voice pitching higher as you feel yourself right there.

“No?” You can hear from Sam’s voice that he’s pouting at you, mocking you. “You don’t want to cum baby? Not gonna cum on my big, fat cock fucking you so good?” You clench around him, your toes curling, straining… “Come on you little slut, fucking cum already. Thought whores like you were supposed to be easy? Huh? Want you to cum for me, Y/N.”

“No, no, no, no, no–” you lose track of what you’re saying as you cum, screaming into your arm so you don’t accidentally say something to make Sam stop fucking you. Thankfully, he doesn’t stop. He fucks you through your orgasm and your come down, hips snapping more and more erratically as you bury your face in his desk and try to catch your breath.

Suddenly, the weight of his body is gone, and then there’s a warm jolt between your legs, and you know he’s cumming – aiming his load at the top of your panties and letting it drip down through the open crotch. You moan high in your throat at the feeling of his release soaking into your underwear, mixing with your own juices, which are already leaking out of you and dripping onto his desk.

“That was a really good session, Y/N,” Sam says, and you’re surprised to hear how composed he sounds, though a little breathless. “I think this is going to be a good strategy for you.” He walks around to the other side of his desk and starts to pick up the books and papers you’d knocked down earlier.

Slowly, you peel yourself up off his desktop, your skin sticking to the surface with sweat that’s already started to dry.

“Go clean yourself up, Y/N,” Sam instructs, not looking at you as he continues to tidy his desk. You turn to go, still in your post-orgasmic daze, but you spin back around when Sam calls your name again. “Oh, and Y/N?” you look at him curiously, and a smirk curls slowly across his lips as you watch. “You better keep the tally marks, or there’ll be consequences next session.”

“Yes, Dr. Winchester,” you agree quietly and slip out of his office into the hallway, walking back to your room behind an orderly, with Sam’s cum still dripping down your thighs. You think about the tally he’d left on your body, and you look up at the orderly, who’s now stopped at the door to your room and holding it open for you.

As you pass him, you keep your eyes trained at the ground, and glance sideways to surreptitiously inspect the man next to you. The hospital scrubs do nothing to hide his endowment. You smile brightly, bringing your eyes up the rest of his body, taking in the muscles in his arms and the name tag on his chest, before landing on his face.

“Thanks, Dean.” You walk into your room, eyes flicking back to see Dean still standing there, watching you walk towards your bed. You bend over to grab something off the bottom shelf of your nightstand, not caring what you grab, just knowing that you’re now giving Dean a full display of your ass – Sam’s writing and Sam’s cum decorating your skin.

The door behind you shuts quietly.

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1kook · 3 years

Text

commercial break ; NINE

this is part of my netflix & chill series!

SUMMARY “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?” WARNING angst with implied smut at the end!!, flashbacks, low self esteem, alcohol consumption, jk is (implied) a virgin in this, there’s a lil fondling by oc u know the usual MISC they r soulmates <3, our queen doyeon returns, i tried to use symbolism👁 in the dialogue so yes everything drunk oc says has a meaning hehe RATING m bc alcohol WC 2.2k

NOTES i said once a long time ago that n&c couple were prolly at the same party once but didn't realize so hERE WE GO ! its not proofread bc um. yeah<3

Homecoming week.

Jungkook doesn’t even think his university’s football team is good, but he had read somewhere that part of the college experience is obnoxiously supporting this team all four years. And well. Jungkook wants to fit in. Frankly, Jungkook feels a little dumb having accepted this invitation from Kim Taehyung from his first-year writing class. He’s only known the man a solid four weeks, probably won’t know him this well once Taehyung finds real friends, ones who suit his outgoing personality, and decides Jungkook is too boring, but Jungkook will make the best of it while he can because, again, he wants to fit in. Badly. It’ll be different this time, he had told himself while getting ready. You won’t be awkward anymore. You’ll make friends.

And then it’s nearing midnight and Jungkook has spoken to a whopping two people at this party of over a hundred. Not including Taehyung, it’s down to one. Even that had only been to ask where the bathroom was. He feels severely out of place, like he’s both too large and too small to be in this area, to be at this party, so he shuffles into the kitchen when he hears them call for another match of beer pong. He’s actually pretty good at the game, has refined his skills at get togethers with his older cousins. But it’s not like anyone here wants to be Jungkook’s partner anyway. Or even knows who he is for that matter.

Taehyung had bumped into him a little past ten, had had two girls clinging to his sides when he had greeted Jungkook. One of them had almost looked tempted, Jungkook wanted to believe, brushing her hand against his arm. But he didn’t act quick enough— what would he even have done? what did he even want? —and Taehyung disappeared with both girls soon after, leaving Jungkook by himself once more.

The kitchen is empty, the drinks long since having migrated to the living area of this huge frat. With a defeated sigh, Jungkook sinks back against one of the counters, setting his lukewarm cup of beer down beside him. He’s buzzed, drank in a feeble attempt to ‘lose himself’ as all the movies claimed. But now all he can feel is a pounding headache threatening to consume him. He doesn’t even like drinking— why did he drink this much?

He should go home.

Events like this, parties like this— they weren’t meant for someone like Jungkook. He was too quiet, too shy to let loose like everyone else. He doesn’t do well in social situations, or at least not as well as his therapist had told him he would. He hesitates too much, never speaks when he needs to. Haerim from his freshman basics class had even said so. “You’re quiet, huh,” she had smiled, and when her notebook had touched his elbow, he flinched. She didn’t take it to heart. Just like Taehyung wouldn’t if he left right now. They know how he is. He doesn’t belong here. These types of parties were made for outgoing people, people who lived on the edge, people who weren’t trapped in their own thoughts all the time, people like—

Like the girl who stumbles through the doorway now. “Woooo,” she slurs, and then promptly faceplants into the dirty tile of the kitchen, the same tile littered with sticky footprints and random debris. He can’t even imagine what else is on the floor of a frat house mid-party. Jungkook flinches at the sound of her knee hitting the ground, before rushing over to help her up.

She’s a giggling mess, eyes half shut by the time Jungkook gets her into a seated position. “Are you okay?” he flounders, hand on her shoulder when she wobbles again, nearly falls back down.

“Just peachy,” she sings, flashing him a sloppy thumbs up. Her neck isn’t doing a particularly good job of holding her head up and when Jungkook places a hand on the back of her head, she leans into it, blissful smile on her face. She’s really pretty, it makes Jungkook’s cheeks burn when she aims it at him next. “Pucca loves Garu,” she lets him know, eyes finally fluttering open. “He’s a pretty boy.”

Jungkook blinks. He has no idea what you’re talking about. “Huh?” he stutters, glancing back at the bar stool by the counter instead. It’s probably infinitely times better than the sticky tile beneath your bare legs. “I’m gonna stand you up,” he tells you, taking your loud cackle as a sign that you’re okay with it. Jungkook’s been working out all summer, so you’re not heavy in the slightest, arms thrown around his shoulders while he slips his own around your back. Your proximity leaves him drowning in your scent.

The giggles don’t subside when he sits you down, not even when he begins opening random cabinets in search of a glass to get you some water. He’s had his fair share of experiences looking after drunk people, so he has a pretty good idea of what to do now. However, your sudden bout of commentary certainly doesn’t make it easier. “Isn’t it, like, super cool how the sun and the moon are, like—“ a hiccup, Jungkook settles on tap water “tooootally different beings, but, like— they, like, both maintain the earth?” Your hand reaches for his forearm when he returns, gives him this little squeeze in your excitement. “Like— Like they both have to, like— work together? To keep it perfect, y’know?”

Jungkook pushes the water into your hands. You’ve got this sparkly sheen to your eyes, the one that most people get after one too many drinks, but it’s accompanied by this childlike wonder that leaves Jungkook breathless when you meet his gaze. “Yeah,” he says quietly. You beam. It’s blinding. So blinding that Jungkook promptly looks away, nudging the cup in your hands. “You need to drink this.”

You frown. “Boooo, so boring,” you huff. It’s nothing Jungkook hasn’t heard before, but it is a little disheartening to hear it from a stranger. He stamps the feeling down, pursing his lips as he gives up on letting you drink yourself. The cup is swiped from your hand and Jungkook tasks himself with making you drink it instead. And of course, like all wasted young adults, you put up a fight. “Ew, what is that?” you spit.

Jungkook sighs. “Water.”

At his defeated tone, the exaggerated grimace slips off your face, replaced with a rather solemn expression instead. Jungkook tries to take advantage of it and pushes the cup against your lip again, but all he really accomplishes is sloshing it down the front of your dress. You don’t yelp, but he does. “I’m so sorry,” he panics, sliding the sleeve of his shirt down around his thumb to wipe your chin.

You let him, head tilted curiously to the side. Jungkook tries to ignore your analytical gaze until: “you’re cute,” you announce, and abruptly send him into shock.

He recoils, face a blazing mess. “I’m—“ he chokes, swallowing when you wipe your hand down your own chest, leave a glistening layer of water over your sternum and down between your breasts.

“Cute,” you repeat, downing the glass he had been trying to coax into you like it’s nothing now. With it gone, you don’t waste any time, throwing your hands around his shoulders, fingers brushing through the hair at the base of his neck. You pull him close, so close in fact, that he ends up having to hold the back of your chair to keep from accidentally crushing you with his weight. “Your name, pretty boy?”

He can’t think. You’re so drunk and smell so good and are just so pretty— his brain short circuits. “Um I’m, uh, Jeon J—“

“Jeon,” you repeat, silly smile back on your face. You’re not technically wrong, so he nods along with a blush high on his cheeks. “Well, Jeon,” you purr, but you’re still so drunk, eyelids fluttering in a rather funny way. “I think that, like— me and you? We’re like, totally destined,” you ramble, “you should, like, take my number! And maybe we can, like— Netflix and chill one of these days?”

Jungkook doesn’t even know what that means, and honestly, he doesn’t really hear you over the thundering of his own heart and the bass in the other room. “Um, but you’re really…” he stammers, leaning back but a finger loops around one of his curls and he gasps when you pull at it. “You’re drunk,” he rushes out, lower lip trembling when your nose knocks against his.

A soft hum, the sound sending electricity down his spine when you cup his cheek. “But don’t you think I’m pretty?” you murmur, eyes flickering to his mouth.

“Yes,“ he chokes out, “you’re a very, very pretty girl. But I really shouldn’t—“

“Hey,” you shush, tilting his head just the slightest. Jungkook has never had a girl touch him like this, has never even touched a girl before either, but, well. He really wants to kiss you. And that’s saying a lot considering Jungkook has never kissed anyone before.

Despite how good it feels, he knows you’re still really drunk. It’s with a decisive huff that he pushes away, hands on your waist to keep you from touching up on him any further. You’re not that strong anyway. And then he’s met with the biggest pout he’s ever seen, an absolutely distraught look on your face.

Something in him says you’ll cry if he doesn’t explain himself soon, so he launches into it right away. “You’re very pretty,” he says, almost laughing at the way your entire face lights up immediately. “But you’re very drunk.” You huff. “You deserve to be treated like a queen.” Mostly regurgitating something he heard in a motivational video.

It works. Eventually, you stop being fussy in his arms and settle with a frown. “You’re too nice,” you grumble, forehead on the countertop. He doesn’t see how it’s much better than the floor but he lets you be. “You got a girlfriend, don’t you?”

At that, Jungkook laughs. “No,” he reassures you, hesitates, and then gently pats your back. Jungkook actually feels you melt under his touch. That sultry look is gone, replaced with this rather tranquil look that he doesn’t quite understand.

“That was pretty,” you murmur, but Jungkook doesn’t quite hear.

“What was that?” he asks.

“I said your smile was pre—“

“There you are!” someone hollers from the kitchen doorway, the shrill tone of their voice making both you and Jungkook jump. When he turns around, he’s met with the sight of a rather tall girl angrily stomping your way, eyes a blazing fire, fists clenched by her side. Jungkook realizes only a second too late that she’s looking at him. “Get off of her, you sweaty city-owned dumpster,” she hisses, using the strength of three football players to push Jungkook away. “You make me sick—“

“Doyeonie,” you beam, launching yourself into the angry girl’s arms. Ah. The Help had arrived.

Said angry girl (Doyeonie?) is still using every mash-up of words possible to degrade Jungkook as she hauls you into her arms, shooting daggers every step of the way. “I can’t believe you would try to take advantage of a poor girl when she’s this drunk,” she spits.

“What?” Jungkook coughs, cheeks warm. “I wasn’t—“

“Tell it to Campus Safety when I report you, you wannabe, dollar store Rain.” Jungkook clutches his chest at the acidity of her tongue, surprised anyone could be so mean.

All things considered, this was actually good. Someone who knew you had come to take you to safety, meaning Jungkook didn’t have to look after you anymore. When this Doyeonie turns around, he’s met with your smiley face smushed against her shoulder.

(It’s weird. He’s a little sad to see you go.)

“Bye, Jeon,” you giggle, hand brushing down his arm, squeezing his hand, before you’re abruptly yanked away. Jungkook manages one weak wave, cheeks lit ablaze once more when you send him a silly air kiss from the doorway, urging him to catch it. He does, and he feels really silly when he puts it in his pocket, but he can hear your laughter for a second more before he loses you.

The last few minutes being so hectic, he decides to go home. Parties weren’t really his thing. Jungkook doesn’t think he’ll ever go to one again.

Until a few years later.

“You’re, like, really pretty,” you slur, lips against his throat. Another invitation, this time, Taehyung’s birthday. His friend had practically begged him to come, knowing how Jungkook was. In the end, it had been you who had accepted on his behalf.

“Baby, not here,” he laughs, hand on your shoulder when you try to shove your hand down his pants for the third time that night.

Taehyung had been ecstatic to see Jungkook here. And then had quickly become annoyed when he caught the two of you making out in his storage closet an hour later. “Bro, don’t be that couple at parties,” he had groaned, locking the door behind him.

Jungkook had laughed. “I wouldn’t know what ‘that couple’ is at parties,” he reminded him.

Taehyung rolled his eyes. “Well, I’m sure your girlfriend can fill you in.”

Apparently not. You’ve been trying to kiss him for the past three minutes but keep missing because you’re so drunk. “Just one,” you beg, so pretty but so drunk. The fake lashes you’d worn today make you look like a doll, batting them his way until he’s giving in, slotting his lips against yours. You’re probably going to throw up in his bathroom when you get home, so he should make the best of your kisses now. Jungkook pushes that thought aside as he reaches a hand out to wipe at the sweat accumulating on your chest. There’s something weird about the gesture, like he’s done it before at another party. But that doesn’t make sense; he couldn't have— this is his first party with you.

“We should, like, leave,” you whisper against his ear, fingers burying themselves in his hair; when you pull on a strand, he nearly moans. “Go home. Maybe netflix and—“ a hiccup that makes him smile “—chill?”

Jungkook kisses your temple. “Sounds good to me, pretty girl.”

#bangtanhq #networkbangtan #jungkook fic #jeon jungkook fic #jungkook smut #jjk fic #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fic #mine

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