#yeah so the thing is its gonna be a while until i stop talking about this game

[keywhole]

there's only four players. curly sat out. no one talk to me (except there's more under the cut)

something about anya and daisuke getting really into games, really into joy is something so special pre-crash. the fact that daisuke is considered "always insanely lucky", too, has importance, even though curly is just talking about board games. when curly breaks the news to everyone and jimmy goes off on his rant, he doubles down about how daisuke will be fine because of his parents, making him, supposedly, "the lucky one."

in the end, daisuke climbed through a vent just to witness either the final moments of anya's life, or to be face-to-face with her corpse. no one could stop it from happening, but jimmy had put so much pressure on him to "save her and curly". when jimmy goes into the medbay looking for disinfectant and he looks to the vent, he says "at least he made it out the other side". was that luck?

daisuke truly was just a damn good kid trying his best.

[moeblob]

Deacon loves two things: Ymber and digging himself a grave.

Fulj hates one thing: Deacon.

[sleepatterns]

today has been. hnngngnfhskakdhhhhhh so many weird feelings and not fun thoughts. things our mom said to us + going back to grandparents house was a weird combination. also the conversation we had with our mom had the exact Opposite effect of what she was intending i think because wow holy shit we feel so so fucking awful

[suguann]

Possessive!Gojo who makes you wear his jersey when you go to parties at his fraternity after games, openly admiring the way you dwarf inside his clothes. He leans forward on the edge of the bed to get a better look, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes raking over every inch of you from head to toe. 

"Toru, it's too big," you pout, checking out your reflection in the floor-length mirror on his closet door. “I look silly.”

The tent growing in his sweats says otherwise—all the blood in his body rushing from one head to the other just from seeing two things that are his coexisting—and he gives you another once-over, thinking of several ways to describe you, silly not being one of them.

"You’re so pretty, baby.” He swears he’s a little drunk from the sight of you, but he means it.

Possessive!Gojo who pushes you up against the door inside the locker room before a game—slightly jealous from the guys looking at you as they filed out into the hall, and equally turned on because he knows they can’t have you—telling you he can't play with a hard-on before he's pressing into you from behind.

He can feel your tummy quivering under his hand where he holds you close, feels how his cock is carving its way inside of you, and you both moan when he presses down lightly. It makes him dizzy how tight and small you are; pulsing, wet, and swollen-soft velvet that gives every time he buries himself into you.

"You gonna hold all of my cum in this cute cunt until after the game, y-yeah?" he sucks the question into your neck. “Don’t worry, I’ll lick it out of you afterward. Just keep it warm for me, ’kay?”

You answer him with a high-pitched whine as you clench down hard around him, cumming with a muffled scream against his palm and nearly pushing him out of your warm, fluttering heat.

Possessive!Gojo makes sure to stuff his cum back into your drooling cunt with two thick fingers, curling them into your front wall to pull another soft orgasm out of you—just a little more, ah, there you go, always so good for me—before he helps you fix your panties to trap it there.

His arms wrap around you before he presses a tender kiss to your temple. “Don’t forget to cheer for me.”

Possessive!Gojo whose smirk from watching you squirm in the stands, melts into a glare when a guy takes the empty seat beside you, sitting almost too close for his liking.

“Stop staring at your girlfriend and hit the fucking puck already,” Sukuna grumbles, leaning against his stick.

Possessive!Gojo who makes sure to fuck you in the backseat of his car afterward with the windows cracked in hopes that the guy from the stands would walk by to you moaning Gojo’s name, and he eats you out just like he promised—bending you over the center console, smiling to himself at how shy and squirmy you get—only to fill you up again.

Possessive!Gojo who pouts whenever Nanami manages to steal your attention with something sciency and nerdy (something entirely up your alley) whenever you come over on weeknights. 

“That’s so neat, Nanami,” you smile, hearts practically in your eyes as you listen to him talk about his latest research. “Maybe I can stop by the lab and check it out sometime.”

Possessive!Gojo who doesn’t miss the way Nanami’s ears turn a shade of red from your praise—color high in his cheeks—how he gives a sheepish smile whenever you talk to him.

“Toru,” you say, finally bringing your soft, pretty gaze on him again. “Are you even studying?”

Yeah, he is, but something else entirely, he thinks as he watches how your shorts hug your ass while you walk around the house’s common room—and he’s not the only one staring.

Possessive!Gojo who slaps your thigh, making you jolt in his lap. "Did I tell you to stop, huh, baby?"

You shake your head, biting your lip and avoiding the pair of eyes watching both of you (intently) from across the room—especially you—a quiet observer as you slowly sink onto your boyfriend’s cock while Nanami thrusts his own into his fist. 

"Ah, fuck—b-but–"

Your words break off into a choked moan when Gojo thrusts his hips up underneath you, pressed as deep inside as he can get, and when he looks down, he swears he can see the imprint of himself pressing against your stomach. 

"Tell me what I said,” he says through gritted teeth as he starts bouncing you, the couch continuing its steady squeaking under your knees.

Possessive!Gojo who can tell that it's hard for you to concentrate with the way his cock moves inside you, and you’re unable to answer with anything other than babbling nonsense. He decides to take mercy on you and stops to grind you in his lap instead.

He kisses your cheek, your neck, anywhere he can get his mouth on. "I said, don't stop until you cum, and you’re going to let Nanami see how fucking pretty you look when you do."

The next sound out of your mouth is a squeal when he holds your inner thighs to keep you open as he thrusts up into you again and again—letting Nanami see what can never be his.

“That’s it, baby,” he growls. “So good for me. Go on, show him how my good girl takes cock.”

Possessive!Gojo who locks eyes with Nanami just as he’s about to cum, burying his groans of pleasure into your neck as white-hot sparks shudder up his spine and heat pools in his gut.

Mine, he tries to say, but Gojo thinks his frat brother gets it when Gojo’s the one cumming inside you and Nanami’s spilling all over his fist.

Masterlist

[sturnlsstuff]

MISSED YOU | chris sturniolo

| ".... god, i hate that i missed you so much"

pairing: dealer!chris x fem!reader

summary: your dealer has been out of town for almost two weeks and after he's finally back, he texts you needing to see you.

warnings; smut, dom!chris, sub!reader, p in v, pet names, praising, unprotected sex, dirty talking, hair pulling, rough sex, car sex, crying, public¿ sex, cursing, mdni

a/n: literally my first fanfic after a looong time so please bear with me, if its bad... you know why. english isnt my first language so sorry for any mistakes! also its a little long 😭 part two here !!

~~~

she laughed at some joke her friend made and took another bite of her pizza. it was late friday afternoon, she and her bestfriends were hanging out, since there was nothing else to do. everything was great, until her phone buzzed. she looks at her screen, immediately smiling when she sees his name. she wasn't even aware that her lips had curved into a smile.

her friends were too busy with their own conversation, so she uses her moment and grabs her phone, reading the message from chris. she hasn't heard from him in over two weeks, she had no clue what he was doing, or where he was. she also didn't want to ask, hating the feeling of being too desperate. and it's not like he owns her any explanation either.

chris: u busy?

she bites her lip, fighting the urge to smile again as she replies back.

y/n: hi to you too

y/n: yeah im out with friends, whats up

chris: having fun?

chris: when u gonna be home ma?

y/n: like in an hour or so

chris: can u hurry up? c'mon kid i miss ya

y/n: you do???

she can't help but genuinely grins this time, her eyes widen a little. did he miss her? or was he just saying that to make her give in? he always knew how to talk to her, to make her going feral over him. but she wanted to believe he means it this time.

chris: hell yeah i do

chris: get ur ass out here

she looks at her friends, that were still yapping about something, that she couldn't care less about right now. she needed to see him. he never said he missed her before.

y/n: then come pick me up, im sending u the address

chris: omw gorgeous

chris is already in his car, when she sends him the address. not being able to see her for over two weeks, made him think. A lot. he has been her drug dealer for over a year now, there was tension between them since the beginning, so it didnt take them long to finally fuck at some party a few months ago. and since then, it's happening every now and then, usually they meet to smoke together, then they end up all over each other.

after a few minutes, he parks the car in front of the pizzeria, finally seeing her. she made a stupid excuse for her friends to leave, not being able to hide her excitement, so they just could assume what was going on.

chris gets out of the car, looking her up and down, licking his lips as she was only wearing a black crop top and baggy camo pants. he personally loved those, especially on her.

he opens the door for her, a smirk playing on his lips. "get in."

she tried her hardest to act casual, but just seeing him after a while, in all black outfit, was enough to make her dizzy. and she could swear he got a haircut. his hair was so much shorter, and she loved it.

she smiles, keeping the eye contact while getting inside the car. he closes the door, his eyes roaming all over her body as she walked towards him. he snaps back to reality, getting to the other side and climbing back into the drivers seat. he was feeling so many things that he couldn't express.

"missed me so bad, you couldn't wait an hour, huh?" she speaks up, putting on the seatbelt and looking over at him, while he starts the car.

she notices the way he looks her up and down, his eyes stopping at her exposed skin a little too long.

"i've missed my favorite customer." he smirks, going back to the eye contact.

"yeah, your favorite customer... right." she says sarcastically, trying her hardest to keep her cool and not to blush under his stare.

he grins before replying, focused on keeping his hands on the wheel instead of her body. it was getting harder with every second. "yeah, the one i always gotta give free stuff to."

"oh, dont act like i force you to do this..." she scoffs, still looking at him. "you know i always want to pay you."

"i know y'do... doesn't mean i will stop givin' it to you for free though."

"see, and that's crazy."

chris rolls his eyes, loving and hating at the same time, how she always had to talk back to him. he's driving, planning to go to her house, but the way she's looking right now, and especially her attitude, is making him crazy. he feels his dick getting harder with every second.

"whatever, ma. i know you secretly like it."

"yeah, sure." she mumbles with sarcastic tone, her eyes still watching him. seeing him driving was one of her favorite things in the world, he always looked so good. she appreciates, that he gives her stuff for free or cuts down her prices, but dealing was his job, he was making money out of it, so she always felt bad when he didnt want her cash. "what made you busy for so long? thought the cops caught or some shit"

chris bites his lip, his eyes glancing over to her for a second, before focusing back on the road. he never felt so desperate like right now, just having her in his car like that...

once he hears her question, he snaps back to reality and smiles. "the cops? please, sweetheart, they can suck my dick."

chris changes his direction, spotting an empty parking lot and he drives there. "i was out of town, had to deal with some business... nothin' to worry about now." he explains, parking and turning off his car, and his stare travels to her, scanning her face and body. "you're so curious...."

she nods, now understanding why he wasn't texting her these past two weeks, she was a bit ashamed 'cause she honestly thought maybe he got bored of her, so she didn't text him either. she still got some weed until yesterday, so she also had no reason to.

"why would you stop here?" she asks, looking at him with a little frown, but once she sees his smirk, the realization hits her. the excitement filling her body, the tension between them so noticeable, it makes her shiver.

he stares at her for a moment, adjusting his pants and then suddenly he unbuckles his seatbelt, sitting back in his seat so there was more space now.

"c'mere."

her eyes travels down on his lap, seeing the noticeable big bulge even through his jeans. she blushes slightly, looking back at him, the smirk still playing on his lips and it makes her weak in her knees.

"chris..." he cuts her off by reaching over and grabbing her chin, tilting her face closer to his.

"y'gonna do what i said, or keep talking back?"

she immediately unbuckles her seatbelt, moving over the center console and she gets into his lap, straddling him. she wasn't gonna act like she didn't miss him too, because, goddamn, she did. she presses herself onto his hard dick, watching him closely, and seeing how desperate and frustrated he was right now. It made her feel a little bit of a power, that she decided to take advantage of.

"now, was that so hard, ma?" he smirks even more, trying to hide his growing need for her, but his hands moves to grip onto her thighs. he felt the urge to touch her all over.

"you know, fifteen more minutes and we would be at my place-"

"you really think, i would wait fifteen fucking minutes, when i havent seen you for two weeks, and you look like that?" he loves the way she looks at him, with such admiration. she was so pretty in his eyes, he never felt this type of desperation for anyone ever before.

"and who's fault is that?" his hands grips her tighter and puts her closer in on his lap, making a little bit of friction, that he so desperately needs. his fingers digging into her skin, while he stares into her eyes.

"shut up for once, yeah?"

"make me." she smirks, challenging him. he doesn't have to hear it twice, loving the attitude she's giving him right now. his hand moves up from her thigh to the back of her neck, pulling her face closer and he kisses her roughly, grabbing her ass with his other hand as he does.

she smiles against his lips, immediately kissing him back with the same intensity, and she grinds down against his clothed dick, feeling her own need growing with every second. she missed the way he kissed her, she missed his lips, his hands all over her, his body against hers. she missed him and she hated to admit that.

she slides her tongue into his mouth, he bites her lip in response and lets her lead the kiss. moving up his hips to feel her more and not being able to hold back, he groans against her lips. he never felt so needy before. he pulls away for a moment to speak, and starts trailing kisses down her neck, squeezing her ass, before his hand moves up, caressing the skin on her exposed stomach.

"god, i hate that i missed you so much."

it slips from his mouth, he doesn't think much about it as he sucks on her skin, but for her it meant everything. she tilts back her head, giving him more space and she grinds against his lap some more, running her hand through his brown hair. he lets out a growl as she grinds down on him, making him even harder and he bucks his hips up again. lifting up his head from her neck his stare finds hers, the noticeable lust in his eyes made her bite her lip to hold back a moan. the smirk coming back to his face once he notices her flushed cheeks.

"what 'bout you, huh, ma? missed me too?"

she closes her eyes, their face so close to each other, it makes their lips brush when she replies him back.

"yeah... i did"

he grins, his hands playing with the waistband of her pants. that's all he needed to know, that she missed him as much as he missed her. even though they both were aware, they should'nt.

"how much, hm?" he unzips her pants, she lifts herself up, gripping his shoulders to balance herself and helps him take them off. then she straddles him again, trying to hold back her smile, but not being able to.

"want me to show you?"

he groans after her words, feeling her wet panties pressing against his hard dick and he bucks up his hips again, being so desperate, that he was ready to beg her. he starts marking her neck again, his hand traveling between her legs, massaging her clit through her underwear. her breath hitches in her throat, she lets out a little whine and grips his hair slightly.

"so wet already... shiiiitttt... all this f'me, huh?" he says against her skin, bitting on it slightly and making her moan. he adds more pressure, circling over her clit. "lift this shit up."

his tone demanding, he wasn't asking. she lifts up her top, revealing her breasts. he looks at her now, his eyes going back and forth between her tits, and her face. "fuck... not wearing a bra? fuckin' slut..."

he licks her hard nipple, then starting sucking on it. her hand tightens in his hair, tilting her head back and she lets out more whimpers. she was supposed to be the one in control this time, she craved it and saw how needy he is, but the way he's touching her, makes her losing her mind. he then pulls her panties to the side, running his fingers through her wet folds and suddenly putting one inside her. not even giving her any time, he just starts pumping in and out, adding another finger after a moment, now stretching her out. he pulls away from her nipple, looking at her face.

"c-chris..." she moans quietly, trying her hardest to keep the eye contact, but struggles to do so. her hands now traveling down his chest and unbuckling his belt.

"yeah, ma? y'like that?" he tries to keep his cool, still working his fingers inside her dripping pussy, curling them and making her whine in response. "look at you... so, fuckin' desperate on my lap. missed my fingers, huh? want some more?"

she desperately nods, squeezing around his fingers, but once he feels that, he pulls them out immediately putting them in his mouth to lick them clean. she whines, pouting her lips when he stops.

"show me how much you missed this dick then."

she bites her lip, unzipping his pants and with his help, she pulls them down to his knees, his boxers following after a second. chris leans his head back against the seat, gripping her hips as she gives him a few strokes before pulling her underwear to the side. she runs her thumb over his tip, collecting the precum and spreading it all over his cock, using it as a lubricant and then she lowers herself slowly on his cock, the movement making them both moan out loud with pleasure. she stays like this for a moment, needing to adjust after these past two weeks without him.

"fuckk...so tight...your pussy was made f'me.." he groans, tightening his grip on her hips and he watches her closely, as she finally starts moving on him. he’s holding himself back from moving up his hips and taking over, trying so hard not to thrust into her. he loves the feeling of her body against his and he’s missed it so much. he needed it, he needed her and he hated that. the feeling just kept growing, making the space in the car feel even smaller.

he pulls her back down into another kiss, this time more sloppy, continuing to move his tongue against hers, tasting her. she kisses him back, starting speeding up her pace and now bouncing on him harder. his dick hitting just all the right spots, making her moan loudly while chris tries to focus on the kiss and not to lose his composure. he wanted to take over, he always did, but the feeling of her riding him like that, has him gripping the seat. he grits his teeth, trying to keep himself together and he knows his patience wont last long. he looks up at her again, his eyes glued to her face.

"fuckkkk, ma.... takin' all of me so well... shit..." he hisses, when she speeds up even more. "so good.... s-so good f'me...."

she grips into his shoulders more, moaning loudly at his praises and she continues moving. chris is in complete ecstasy as she picks the pace up, a feeling like he hasn’t experienced before. there's just something about her on top and taking what she wants, that's got him feeling so many things at once.

“fuck.. just like that” one of his hands grab her ass, giving it a squeeze and then slapping it. "fuckin' slut... you like it? fucking in my car? takin' it just like a little bitch.... yeah? shitttt..."

he moans now not being able to hold back, and he starts thrusting into her. she gasps for air, her eyes closing shut as she tightens around him. "oh, wanna cum, huh? not yet darlin'...." he grips her hips more, his tip hitting her g-spot with every move.

"chris i-"

she cuts herself off with another moan, not being able to think straight. she digs her nails into the back of his neck, her head falling down on his shoulder and he immediately stops. her eyes snap open, she lifts up her head to look at him, a smirk playing on his lips.

"you better don't look away f'me, ma.... wanna see your pretty face y'know? and keep makin' those sexy little sounds...got it?"

she nods, but it's not enough from him as he speaks up again. "use your words baby, c'mon... you aint that fucked out of your mind yet, hm?"

"i got it, just... please..." she whines, moving her hips, wanting to bounce on him again, but he stops her. she pouts. "chrissss......"

"get to the backseat." he demands, after scanning her face for a while. he wanted to give her all the pleasure she deserves. he wasn't even thinking about himself, he couldn't care less about his release. he just needed to make her feel good, making sure no one else can do what he can.

she pulls away from him, now moving over the center console again, struggling a bit but she gets into the backseat. chris obviously smacks her ass as she does, what makes her squeak.

"chris!"

but he just smirks, pulling off his pants and boxers all the way down and throwing it on the passenger seat, so it wasn't in the way. he gets on the back himself, there was little space, but enough to get into his favorite position. chris puts his hand on her back, forcing her to get on her knees and hands on the seat, as he positions himself behind her. chris loves the way he can get her all desperate and begging, so he teases her now. he moves his tip along her folds, making her whine. then he slowly puts it in, but after a few seconds he pulls back again.

"chris...." she whines, knowing he's playing with her now.

"yeah, baby?"

she bites her lip, her face pressing into the seat and she lifts up her hips more. "stop teasing me, please...."

he grins even more, slapping her pussy with his dick and then he suddenly pulls his cock all the way in, making her gasp and scream out of pleasure. the new angle let him hit all of her sweet spots.

"whatever you want, princess." he starts thrusting into her with a very intense and fast pace, going as deep as he could. the car now filled up with her moans and the sounds of skin slapping against each other. he grips her hips tight, keeping her in place. he can feel her squeezing around his cock again, and he lets out a growl. "c'mon.... cum all over me...wanna see you while y'do..."

chris moves one of his hands, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back, having a good view on her face. her mouth wide open, letting out loud moans, her eyes rolling back.

"oh my god!" she cries out, gripping the edge of the seat like her life depended on it and she releases, the wet, squelching sound coming from her now louder. he groans, kissing her neck and whispering into her ear.

"you feel so good... cummin' like that f'me... such a good girl.."

she moans, squeezing around him again, the overstimulation now making her shiver as he keeps going with the crazy pace, not slowing down at all. he lets go of her hair, her head immediately falling onto the seat and he grips by her hips again, making sure she feels him as deep as he wants her to. he growls, being on the edge himself.

"i'm... close.." he mutters, throwing his head back. "gonna fill you up, yeah?"

she whines nodding desperately, but then he smacks her ass giving her a sign to answer verbally.

"shit! yes, fuck, yes chris, please!" she feels tears filling up her eyes from the pleasure, a few of them coming down her cheeks moment later. chris bites his lip, feeling her tightening around him. he moves one of his hands between her legs, now rubbing her clit, while still thrusting hard into her, but his movements getting sloppier. she cries out, her legs trembling and his dick twitches, finally cumming inside her, his warm sticky release filling her up and dripping out of her. he curses under his breath, digging his fingers into her skin, leaving bruises as he does. she feels him cumming, and the overstimulation from him lazily massaging her clit and still hitting her g-spot, makes her finish again. the pressure in her stomach now becoming too much, unable to hold back, she feels the liquid squirts out of her in waves.

his eyes snap open, looking down at her and he growls. he slows down until he eventually stops, after they both ride out their highs, this time not wanting to overstimulate her. looking at the mess she made, he can't help but feel a bit cocky about it.

"shit, ma.... squirtin' all over me, huh? is it how it is now?" he smirks, a little surprised that he made her do that but he couldn't be more proud. he pulls out of her, letting go of her hips and her body immediately falls onto the seat. she's breathing heavily, not being able to reply yet. "that's my fuckin' girl.."

he runs his fingers along her inner thigh, collecting her and his cum and he leans in a bit, covering over her. he looks at her fucked out expression and the smudged mascara on her cheeks. "look at me."

she opens her eyes, her mind blank, body shaking. he puts his fingers into her mouth, she immediately cleans them up, tasting both his and her release on her tongue, making sure she keeps the eye contact with him while she does that.

"you're so hot." he says now kissing the tears on her cheeks away. "took me so well..."

she smiles, seeing his flushed cheeks and messy hair sticking to his forehead. it was her favorite view.

"y'good, kid? don't go all mute on me now.."

"don't call me that...." she mumbles, trying to get her sarcastic attitude back, but she was absolutely spent right now. "i'm fine."

he just grins, gently patting her cheek before he pulls away. she slowly lifts herself up, trying to fight her trembling legs and she sits up now, facing him. not being able to do anything more yet, her glare moving to her legs and the seat she made mess on. she feels her cheeks growing hotter, now suddenly embarrassed and trying to ignore his stare. this never happened to her with him before and she didn't know what he thought about it.

"sorry about... the seats" she mumbles, grimacing.

he raises his eyebrows, now seeing her embarrassment and he doesn't understand why. it was a little surprising but he felt so proud. he already wanted to make her do it all over again. "you f'real? don't even say sorry, ever again."

she's still not so sure, blushing even more as he wipes her cheeks from the smudged mascara and then runs his hand through her hair, trying to fix it a little bit. he smiles softly. "gonna clean this up later, don't you worry 'bout that, okay?"

chris then reaches into the center console for the tissues, grabbing them and spreading her legs with his hands. she watches him closely seeing how he starts just gently cleaning her up. this simple movement makes her feel the heat rising from her cheeks down to her neck, so she just covers her face with her hands shyly. not really being able to understand why is she so embarrassed this time, he grabs her wrists, forcing her hands to move away from her face.

"y'gotta be kiddin' me. don't hide from me, ma." chris mutters. "not when you made such pretty mess in my car."

with a quiet sigh, she lets him take her hands off of her face. she chews on her bottom lip nervously while he goes back to cleaning her up, touching her slightly as she was made from some kind of glass. it was even cute, how he just made sure she was fine. it's not their first rough sex, but this one was definitely more intense and for some reason felt so... different. she had this strange feeling in her chest, just seeing him focused on wiping her legs and how he didn't seem to care about his covered in her release seats. once he's done, he sits beside her, wrapping his hand around her shoulder and pulling her close. she doesn't like the silence, even if before it was never awkward, this one was bothering her as she couldn't stop feeling unfamiliar emotions.

"i ran out, by the way." she suddenly blurts out, making him laugh. there was no way in hell this girl was real.

"yeah? good to know. gonna give y'some more later."

"im paying this time."

"oh, you've paid enough already." she immediately looks up at him, smacking his shoulder and he chuckles in response, pretending to be in pain. "woaaahh, bein' a little brat again, hm?"

"that's not funny, im giving you money." her tone shows no objection, he smirks and nods, knowing he won't take anything from her anyway. they sit like that for a moment, before he speaks up, knowing he will get another hit after that.

"soooo... round two?"

"christopher, i swear to god."

_____________________________

a/n: oh my god this seems sooo long 😭 tell me what yall think, i feel like i kinda fucked up with the whole dealer vibe but lmk please! i honestly enjoyed writing that so who knows..

[arieslost]

personally since I want to take a nice bite outta oscar (and you do too)

what about an oscar x gf!reader who just constantly bites him, not hard enough to leave a mark (thats only in bed) but just a little chomp

like he has an arm around her shoulder while talking to Lando and she just turns her head and *chomp*

lord knows i wanna give that man a nice little monch. just a little 🤏🏻 little bit

© arieslost 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

chomp | op81

something about oscar unlocked the habit within you. he’s just so… yummy. all the time. so one day you acted on the urge to bite him. you did it gently, just barely sinking your teeth into the skin covering the taunt muscle of his bicep when you were cuddled up together in bed. he liked it; encouraged it even, so you never really looked back.

instead of “pinch me,” he soon adopted the phrase “bite me” in its place. it was just an affectionate thing that you did when your feelings for him became so overwhelming words failed you. it happens more often than not— just looking at him and knowing he’s yours is enough to render you speechless.

his instant enjoyment of your gentle bites had you dismissing the behavior as normal quickly, so it now comes as a surprise to you when other people have a visceral reaction to it.

you never pay much mind to what people say on social media, particularly twitter, but almost every day you’re greeted with the sight of you being caught biting oscar and hundreds of people asking what your problem is. it mostly stemmed from the one time that oscar asked (more like begged) you to leave a mark in the throes of a passion-charged moment that happened the night before qualifying and thus it was clear as day to everyone in the paddock the next morning.

you were usually careful to bite parts of him that were almost always concealed. his thighs, his hips, his shoulders, the junction between his shoulder and neck. but he’d been adamant that you bite his neck and leave a mark, and who were you to tell him no? so the whole world ended up becoming privy to your little habit. but oscar never gave anyone the time of day when asked about it, so it never crossed your mind to stop.

now, lando had been the very first to tease him about that infamous mark on his neck, but he’d never been there to see it happen. until today.

oscar had insisted that you join him while he and lando were waiting to be called in for a race debrief, with the promise that he’d take you out for dinner afterwards. you’re always happy to spend extra time with your boyfriend, of course, so you were more than happy to agree.

except lando has a special talent for boring you out of your mind with extremely technical talk. and he loves to talk. you need something to do in order to not implode from boredom, and oscar’s arm is right there, wrapped around your shoulders, so you turn your head and lightly bite the thin skin of his wrist.

the sudden silence is deafening as lando stops talking in the middle of his sentence.

“i thought that was just a weird rumor. you actually bite him?” lando asks.

“um, yeah,” you reply slowly. “so?”

“got a problem with my girlfriend, mate?” you can feel the muscles of your boyfriend’s arm flexing around you as he tenses up a little.

“nope. no. not at all,” his teammate is quick to respond, hand reaching back to scratch his neck. “carry on. i’ll just act like i’m not here.”

so you do, biting him a little harder as a silent chill out. he just kisses your temple, stifling his laughter.

when it’s finally time for their meeting, you’ve traveled from oscar’s wrist all the way up to the inside of his elbow, grazing your teeth along his skin and inhaling his addictive scent. you’d happily do this for hours, and you pout when he separates himself from you.

as an apology, he leaves you with a parting whisper of, “you’re gonna bite me harder than that tonight, right?” that has your whole body heating up.

word count: 638

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[nochepsicodelica]

You know how sometimes you think of a scenario but just its exact moment and beyond?? There's no clear background on how things got to that point, unless you want to think up that background or it's just that single scene and whatever rolls from it? Well my little spoof is about being pregnant with Toji's baby, but as someone he loves and isn't embarrassed to partake in pda with and just overall someone who he can't wait to come home to every day. Like, he's ready to do this with you.

If you thought Toji was protective of you when it was just you two, then you had no idea of what was to come with having the smallest bean in your stomach, his little cub growing in your womb. You felt a sense of relief when months passed and—through his actions—he continued to remind you that he was in love with going through the process of having a baby with you, but sometimes you would get so caught up with the things that carrying a child entailed, that it would slip your mind.

He catches you crying a lot and even though he knows that it's perfectly normal for your emotions to be all over the place, he still worries. So you can imagine his reaction to watching you waddle around the house while rubbing your belly, in tears. You're breaking his heart with the sound of your little hiccups and sniffing and it won't stop, so he takes your hand and pulls you along to sit on the couch with him.

"You okay, mama?" He asks, rubbing your belly.

You give him a shaky smile and take a breath before responding, pausing the stream of tears for a very brief moment. "Yeah, it's just... my back hurts... and we're hungry... and I feel-" you can't get through the sentence before you start sobbing again.

"You feel what, baby?" He asks, wiping away the fresh stream of tears.

You shake your head, unable to talk through these intense emotions. All he can do is wait and listen until you calm down. He takes your hands in his and squeezes them, affectionately, showing you that he has all the patience in the world for you. Your eyes remain downcast, but eventually the waterfalls running down your cheeks cease.

"You feel what?" He asks, again.

"Fat and ugly, and I don't wanna go to the bathroom because of the mirror. It'll make me feel worse."

He hums, acknowledging your words, despite how severely untrue they are. "Sorry, baby, don't cry, but i'm gonna have to disagree with you. I've never seen someone as pretty as you. It's part of the reason for why you have a baby in your belly."

"It's unfair. You don't look any different. You're still so handsome and... and..."

"Hey," he says, distracting you before you break down again. "You want me to gain some weight?"

You nod, twinkling eyes meeting his warm gaze. You scoff, your thoughts on the suggestion immediately shifting. "You'd still be fine as fuck with a few extra pounds on you."

He laughs, rubbing your belly once more before standing up and sitting behind you for better access to your back. "What do you guys wanna eat?"

- EnD sCeNe 🥀 -

No, but fr this was just casually rolling around in my brain like a dog rolling around in mud.

[mythicmanuscripts]

So I’m imagining Aemond’s wife has to leave him for a few days or even weeks. (perhaps to return to her family’s home somewhere else in Westeros for some reason) Perhaps she flies on dragonback or rides by horse/carriage. Either way she’s gone for some time and the longer she’s away the more on edge Aemond gets. Like he behaves his regular cold and withdrawn self but otherwise normally for a few days. But then slowly his already hard edges seem to grow sharper and sharper as the days without his wife creep by. His attacks in the training yard seem more brutal and vicious than normal. He stalks down the halls in an almost predatory walk as nobles scramble to stay out of his way and not meet his eye. He snaps at his servants more and more. And then suddenly the weeks are over and his wife is home and those hard edges are sanded down once again. He practically melts into her arms the moment they’re behind closed doors. Face buried in her neck or chest. The next day his training is much more subdued. He does not snap at people or move so hostilely about the Keep. Most people put two and two together. Now every time Aemond’s wife leaves him for more than a few days the whole of Kings Landing holds its breath until she returns.

(Bonus points: a few days before her return, Helaena states completely out of the blue to Aemond that she’ll be home before the week is out and he need not worry about her. Aemond starts. How could she know that? Was his wife writing to her and sending her a raven with that information but not him?? He knows they’re close friends but he’s her husband!? So he asks Helaena if she’s had a raven. Helaena just stops her needlework and looks at him confused: “No.” And then resumes her needlework without explanation. He decides to think nothing of it. Until two days later his wife is walking back up the steps of the Red Keep and his heart is doing somersaults in his chest he’s just so thrilled to see her.)

**nsfw thots**

On an unrelated note to all that: imagine them the night before she leaves. Riding him gently, holding him close, pulling orgasm after orgasm from him til he’s over sensitive and completely spent. Making sure to give him as much attention as possible before she leaves. As he lays there in a daze she gently showers him with kisses. Kissing up and down his neck and jaw she whispers in his ear “Aemond, my darling? I want you to think of this night while I’m gone. I want you to think about the night we shall have when I return. I want you to touch yourself and think of me. But you’re not allowed to cum. Not without me.” Another gentle kiss to his temple over his sapphire eye. “Can you be a good boy and do that for me, my love?” He shifts slightly and moans a quiet yes in response. Of course he can do that. He’s a good boy. With more willpower and obedience than anyone. And he will be rewarded handsomely for it when she returns.

I.... Anon you are truly a visionary. I am in shock and awe these thoughts are INCREDIBLE. I love everything about this oh my god.

So instead of splitting up my answer like you did here, I'm gonna answer this as one long ask about before you leave for a few days, how he is while you're gone and then what happens when you return so the entire thing will be NSFW sub!aemond with varying degrees of explicit content. So yeah! Venture under the cut if you dare :))

When you first married Aemond, not much changed because he hardly knew you. But, very very quickly he started to get attached. He realises that you care for him, that you enjoy talking to him and that you mean it when you praise him. For a long time your relationship is almost... professional? Once a week he'll attempt for an heir with you laying flat on your back and then leave immediately and besides that, you'd only see him at dinners and events.

When you started to show Aemond affection and began to ask him questions and love him, he really just melts into you? He becomes so needy so quickly, like a switch is flipped and once he's allowed a little of his self restraint to falter, he's incapable of controlling himself around you anymore.

People are shocked at the change in Aemond. He's much mellower, much less likely to lash out and he hears people out much more. They also learn that they can go to you with any issues, and you will relay them to Aemond. This process always works much better because he's always much better when speaking to you.

(Side note: you know how kings used to have a servant whose only job was to read their letters aloud for them? When Aemond becomes king he immediately gets rid of that servant and has you read the letter aloud instead. It's much, much better to hear your voice and be able to discuss the content of the letters with you)

Maybe this is the first time you've gone away without Aemond? By this point he is attached to your side, and the entire castle is thankful for it. You both spend every night in your shared quarters, and he allows himself to be open in how much he loves you and how much he needs from you.

So when you tell him you need to leave for a few days, at first he doesn't even consider the possibility that you mean without him? His response to hearing this is to nod and say, "Where are we going? And for how long?" Maybe his lips even twitch upwards a little in a very small smile because he thinks the two of you will be travelling alone together. Even if you're going somewhere terribly political and boring, the journey itself is enough to get him in a good mood. Just you, him and Vhagar would be perfect (and your own dragon if you had one, but Vhagar loves you and is more than happy to carry both you and Aemond, in fact sometimes she won't fly with just Aemond because she can tell he's angry and might do something rash, so she'll refuse to take off until you join them so that you can stop Aemond from doing something stupid).

(Side note: Aemond buys a small house somewhere far away and only reachable by dragon and that becomes your little sanctuary, whenever he’s about to lose it he goes up there with you and Vhagar and Vhagar actually won’t fly him back to the keep until he’s doing better)

When you clarify that you need to go yourself, his smile falls? He understands why he can’t go with, but that doesn’t matter. He just… you’re going to be gone for over a week?? What’s he supposed to do??

I think he’d be insistent on you taking Vhagar if you don’t have your own dragon. Not only because she’s quicker than any horse but also because he knows she’d melt down entire kingdoms if someone dared to lay a hand on you and knowing you have that kind of protection is the only way they’ll be any chance of him getting any sleep while you’re away.

You don’t even bother trying to argue against this, because you know he’ll just follow you on Vhagar if you don’t take her yourself.

The night before you’re set to leave, you tell him to get dinner delivered to your chambers and to tell everyone that the two of you are not be disturbed. He knows what this means, he’s so thankful.

You ride him first, until he’s so desperate to cum that he can’t stop bucking his hips. And then you get off him and make him eat you out before he’s allowed to fuck you again. His thighs are shaking when you eventually lower yourself down on him again and he cums almost instantly.

That’s when the overstimulation starts. Your goal is to take him apart completely until he’s a mess, until he’s twitching and whining and mumbling in high Valeryon. It honestly doesn’t even take that long to do.

When you give him the rules, he can only nod and turn to cuddle into your neck. He’s so plaint and completely wrecked, not a single wall left between you. He’s so sweet then, nodding and trying to kiss your neck because he’s just floating on cloud nine.

You slip out of bed the next morning before he wakes up, because you know that will be the easiest for him. If he has to actually watch you leave, he will almost immediately become hostile and unhappy until you return. This way there’s a chance that he might not immediately start terrorising the servants.

When Aemond wakes and you’re not there, he understands why you chose to do that and deep down he knows it’s the best choice, but it doesn’t mean that it doesn’t feel like a punch to the gut anyway. This is the first time in your entire marriage that he’s fallen asleep with you and woken up alone. You’ve always ensured to stay in bed until he wakes up and he does the same, so to roll over and find nothing but cold sheets actually makes him let out a sob out loud.

He pulls your pillow closer, hugging it tightly and curling himself around it. He knows he’s acting ridiculous and he does not care about it, not at all because his wife isn’t in his bed and he’s all alone.

He’s alright for the first three days, still very withdrawn but he wasn’t too bad. From the fourth day onwards he just got worse and worse. He was not used to going this long without you, without your attention and touches and voice. He’s so used to popping into places he knows you’ll be just to see you, bringing you food or wine or even just to ask your advice for something. Sometimes he’ll even come find you to invite you do dinner despite the fact that you eat dinner together every day.

So yeah he’s not doing very well. I also think he becomes even worse about touches? A servant accidentally brushes against him as they walk past carrying laundry and he flings himself against the opposite wall feeling like his skin is on fire where they touched.

Sparring with him is dangerous while you’re away, and if he loses he will just drop his sword and walk away. He would normally go to you and you’d kiss him gently and listen to him and give him advice. But now he just walks right out.

He also doesn’t make any big decisions? Irrelevant of whether he’s king, prince or prince regent, he always goes to you for advice and to hear your thoughts. You’re an extremely important part of his council and he won’t pledge to anything without discussing it first.

So the whole castle walks on eggshells for the next week or so until you eventually come back.

The moment one of the dragon keepers spots Vhagar, they immediately run to the keep and tell Aemond because they know how badly everyone needs you to be back with Aemond. The dragon keeper doesn’t even get to finish his sentence before Aemond is out the door and running for the dragon pits.

He’s there when you get off Vhagar.

The dragon keepers and servants know better than to try and get close to you before him. Normally, you hand the dragon riders your gear and the servants help take off the gloves and boots but no one moves this time because they all know that Aemond will kill them if they get in the way.

The moment you get odd Vhagar, Aemond is walking forward and before you can even say a thing he’s pulling you into a bone crushing hug. He clings to you as tight as he can, nuzzling his nose against your clavicle. You try pull away a little to give him a kiss and he refuses, his grip on you only tightens.

When he eventually pulls away, you take his hand in your hands and give him a soft kiss. He responds immediately and then hugs you tight again.

“You’re ever going for that long again,” he mumbles against your shoulder, “ever.”

You just rub his back and let him hold you for a moment because you know that there’s no point in trying to tell him you had to go. He’s too upset right now, and he just needs to be reassured to that you’re back.

Maybe you’re supposed to speak to the small council about something or give them a debrief of your trip but you end up only doing that the next day because Aemond refuses to share you with anyone. If anyone else tries to take your attention he may genuinely commit murder because it’s been far too long and he’s your husband, not them. He’s the one who gets your undivided attention.

He walks with you back to your shared quarters. On the way there, run into some of the ladies currently being hosted at the court and of course they all want to greet you and ask about your trip. Aemond is having absolutely none of it. He literally just says, "not now" and drags you away from them.

Normally if Aemond did something like that you would refuse to go with him and punish him later, but you know that this is different because of how long he's had to go without you and so you'll make some exceptions. Of course Aemond knows this, that's why he even did it in the first place. If he thought there was even the smallest chance of you being unhappy with him, he never would have done it.

Once you're alone in your chambers, he pulls you back into a hug, and pretty quickly you can feel his shoulders shaking.

"It's alright," you whisper to him, keeping your voice soft and gentle, "I'm back, it's just us here, it's alright." He nods, but he keeps himself firmly against your shoulder, crying softly.

When he stops crying, you tell him to boil some water and get a bath ready. Ordinarily you would call a servant in to do that, but you can see how unsettled Aemond is, how overwhelmed he is. He's clearly happy you're back, but he's also kind of unsure what to do with himself and clearly is just feeling a little too many things. So you give him a task to do, because that always settles him and he relaxes knowing that he's pleasing you.

You watch as he readies the water and then pours it into the bath with some cold water to make the perfect temperature.

Since you flew back on dragon back, you're in need of a bath before bed and so you tell Aemond to join you and let him wash you. It's one of Aemond's favourite tasks, one that he can't believe he is privileged enough to get to do.

He takes his time washing you, being so so gentle and ensuring he does is properly. Multiple times he pauses and looks to you, waiting for your approval before he continues. You can see him start to relax as he does it, can see the tension start to leave his shoulders.

You'd love to wash him in return, but you know it's not the best idea right then. Aemond is relaxed and at ease because he's served you and he knows he's being good. You know that if you turn the attention back on him and wash him, you run the risk of him getting overwhelmed and shy. So instead you just tell him to wash himself once he's done with you and you make sure to watch him as he does so. He absolutely loves having your eyes on him.

You let him dry you afterwards as well, and when you see his eyes trailing your body, you tell him that he can kiss you too. Immediately he does, kissing your skin after he swipes the towel over it.

He's turned by this point, of course, but he doesn't even think about touching himself. He knows the rules, and he knows you will look after him.

Originally you were going to ride him and edge him a few times, but when you see how vulnerable he is, you change your mind. He's missed you so much, and you can see how he's keeping his hands on you for as long as possible each time he kisses you, like he's afraid you're going to disappear. You don't need to wreck him, he's already wrecked.

Instead, you let him sit between your legs, his back to your front and give him a nice, soft handjob. He's shaking and whining in your arms, nuzzling against your neck and mumbling in high valeryon. He's so beautiful when he cums, crying out as his back arches away from you. He collapses once it's over, curling up between your legs and bringing your hand to his mouth to lick it clean.

You let him shuffle down the bed then and eat you out to his heart's content. He's so so happy, groaning against you because he's having as much fun as you are.

Even once you've came, he stays there and just rests his head against your thigh. He falls asleep like that soon after.

[luveline]

hi bae, just wondering if you could write something like roommate!marauders and reader with anxiety where everytime one of them goes out she gets really worried that’s somethings gonna happen to them and waits up for them and just feels like a burden when she calls to make sure they’re alright and just general anxiety things and them being so sweet about it

love u

love u too♡

cw death related anxiety

“Hey, Remus?” you ask tentatively. 

Your housemate lays across the sofa with his dinner half eaten on the coffee table and a book tented on his chest. He's ignoring both in favour of the television, a rerun of Family Fortunes turning the sofa cushions and his pale skin a light blue. 

He drags his blue-tinged gaze from the subtitles to your frowning. “What's wrong?” he asks. You're surprised he heard you over the sound of Sirius’ stereo echoing down the stairs. 

“Where did James say he was going?” 

“I think he said he'd be at the gym for an hour now he's not in work. Want me to call him?” 

“Why would you call him?” you ask, instead of saying yes, please, like you want to. 

“You're worrying again.” 

They know how you are. It doesn't mean they have to understand —it isn't logical to think James is hurt because he hasn't been home today yet, and none of them are required to humour you in your worry, but they always do. 

You feel sick as he takes his phone from his pocket. You've convinced yourself that James is dead, that his car curled around a bend too quickly on the drive in the rain, or that something happened at the gym, or that he never made it there at all, had a fit in the car park outside of work. Even as you think it, you know it's implausible, unlikely, just a repetitive negative anxiety worming its way into your head, but you can't make it stop. 

James doesn't answer the first time, which doesn't help, and then when he does answer the second time you're waiting for bad news. Remus smiles as he talks. “Hello? Jamie?”

James doesn't need speak phone to be heard. “Remus! I'm at the gym, what's happening?”

Remus wrinkles his nose. “What's happening? Since when do you say that?”

“What's up?” James corrects. “I'm on my way out of the gym, can you talk? You can keep me company while I drive.” 

Remus holds out the phone to you. 

“Remus?” James asks into the room. You take the phone before he can hang up, and decide to be honest, but the words get stuck like toffee between your teeth. “Hello?” 

“Hey,” you say, sending Remus a grateful look. He moves over to make room on settee for you, and his arm wraps familiarly around your shoulders as you settle in. He turns his attention back to his show. 

“Oh my god hey, angel. Remus okay?” 

“I was making him ring you, sorry. I thought… you know what I'm like. It's getting late and you aren't home, and I know I don't have the right to pester you about where you are.”

“Yeah you do,” James says, his voice louder, like his mouth is very close to the microphone. “Course you do. I'd worry too if you weren't home yet.” 

“I do this all the time, though.”

Just last week he and Sirius were out late and you'd panicked that they'd both been hurt. You stayed up until almost one in the morning waiting for them to get home from a music shop in the city, each minute after eleven like a shot of ice water in your veins. Sirius jumped when he saw you waiting in the living room, but then he'd given you a hug and rubbed at your shoulders roughly. You didn't wait up for us, did you? 

“It's worse lately, yeah?” James asks. You hum non-committal, and Remus gives you a squeeze in typical Remus fashion. You hadn't even realised he was listening, but his support makes this easier. “You're worrying about us more.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I don't know why. And it sucks because I know it's making me a lot to deal with.” 

“I would one thousand percent prefer it if you rang me then sat there worrying. That would make me feel better. And Remus and Sirius feel the same way, okay? We could all stand to ring each other a bit more anyways.” 

You rub your nose into your hand. “Sorry,” you mumble. 

“There's no need to be. I love you, ‘n I just want you to be happy. If a phone call can make that happen then why shouldn't you do it? And it's not like they're a big imposition, I like talking to you. We all do.”

James is home from the gym what could only be ten minutes later, and he leans over the back of the settee to kiss your forehead chasely. “Here we are, all safe and well.” 

“You haven't seen Sirius yet,” Remus points out.

“I can bloody well hear him. What is he listening to? Is that U2?” James shakes his head in disgust. “I can see why you were so worried I wasn't coming home. Let me go put a stop to that immediately.” 

[lostfracturess]

symptoms and causes | ch. 11

ღ pairing professor gojo x med student reader

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

ღ wc 13.5 k (enjoy your meal lol)

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

ღ author's note hey loves!! thank you so much for your patience, i know it's been a while. buckle up, because we're taking another trip inside satoru's mind, so yeahhh. it's gonna be wild, oh and we're continuing right were we left off in the last chapter. this chapter is again in satoru's pov!! i've also updated the trigger warnings, so please take a look before reading (might be spoiling tho). and lastly, credit to the fanart in the cover, if you know the artist, pls let me know!! can't wait to hear what you all think & thanks for sticking with me!! ♡

series masterlist + playlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

They say before you can love someone else, you have to love yourself first.

And there lies the damn problem. 

I don't know how. 

Never have.

Why am I thinking this now? 

I knew this was right. 

Right for her. 

But then why does my heart feel like it's being ripped out by the fucking roots?

Suguru will take care of her. He always does. That's the only thing that keeps me from screaming, keeps me from chasing after her.

I trust him, damn it, but it shouldn't be him.

It should be me holding her. Me, who knows how she likes to be held when the panic claws its way up. Me, holding her until the world feels less sharp, less cruel.  

Me, who knows that she doesn't want to talk about it. Me, who knows to give her space. She needs space. My strong girl needs space first. 

I hope he gives her space.

But he wouldn't know any of this. He couldn't comfort her in the ways I instinctively knew how. 

Me, who knows how to soothe the invisible wounds, the ones even she denies exist. Me, who knows the soft words she needs to hear after it passes.

It shouldn't be him. 

Sorry. 

It shouldn't have been him.

Past tense. 

It all might be past tense now.

And the thought is more than I could bear.

Shattered. 

Was that the word?

Was there even a word for what I felt in that moment?

How could I ever convey this suffocating agony that's tearing me apart with mere words?

Words are meaningless in the end.

Meaningless when they couldn't be spoken to her, couldn't reach her, couldn't make her understand, couldn't heal the wound I'd carved into her heart.

So, yeah, maybe shattered is the right word. 

The wrong word.

The sterile air was acid in my lungs. Each ragged breath felt like sandpaper against my throat. I held my breath, a desperate plea for the world to stop spinning, for the clock to rewind, for a chance to undo everything.

But time doesn't care. 

It marched on, relentless, while I stayed trapped in this hell, drowning in the mess I made. 

My lungs burned. My vision blurred. I waited until she disappeared. The world seemed to tilt sideways, losing all color and shape, leaving only the sharp, agonizing realization that I'd made her walk away.

I didn't want to breathe anymore.

Not in a world where every breath ached without her.

"Dr. Gojo?" A voice, distant, muffled. 

Irrelevant.

My gaze flickered to Sukuna. He watched, a predator savoring the kill. 

His twisted smile fueled rage within me. But there would be no fighting this. No grand defense. Not when her life was the bargaining chip.

So, I lied. 

Each word a nail in the coffin of the connection I craved more than life itself.

Each word a drop of poison forced down my throat. A self-inflicted wound, a desperate mutilation of the only thing that had ever felt real.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes I loved so fiercely, wide with confusion and horror. The strangled gasp, the way her body went limp in Geto's arms — a haunting image that would forever be etched on my heart.

Muscles screamed, a silent protest against my own pathetic stillness. But I remained frozen. 

This was my punishment. 

I had to watch her leave, had to sear the pain into my very being, an endless penance for the choices I'd made.

The door clicked shut behind them.

That simple sound, final, absolute.

My lungs filled with air, a betrayal. Oxygen I didn't deserve, didn't want. 

My own body, this treacherous thing kept going, kept me alive against my will, kept me tethered to this cruel reality.

The room swam back into focus, the judges' accusing faces nothing but a blurry backdrop. The sounds of their inquest washed over me like meaningless noise.

"Dr. Gojo? Can we continue?"

I nodded.

They pressed on. More questions about the research, her involvement, their accusations of favoritism.

How stupid.

Of course, I favored her. 

How could I not? 

She is everything.

Oh, sorry. Forgot. Past tense.

She was everything.

Did I regret it? 

Did I wish I could go back and treat her with the same damn indifference I afforded everyone else?

Yeah, maybe.

A familiar craving stirred my senses, the desperate need for the numbing escape that would mean failing her even more. My fingers clawed at my forearm, trying to replace the hollowness with physical pain. It wasn't enough.

My responses were rote, mechanical.

Yeah, I favored her. 

Yeah, I let her into the OR because of it.

Yeah, and she outshone every damn surgeon twice her age. 

No, she didn't know I'd set it up. 

No, she never asked for special treatment. She just worked until her eyes were bloodshot, pushing harder than anyone else.

And hell no, she didn't do a single thing wrong.

Except maybe — maybe loving me. 

After what felt like an eternity, the judges seemed satisfied, or perhaps just exhausted by my robotic replies. 

They painted me the arrogant professor with a weakness for a young student, who abused his power, who played favorites.

Whatever they wanted to believe, fine.

Didn't even have the energy to care anymore.

Let them drag my name through the mud, tarnish the reputation I'd worked so hard to build. 

Because the title, the position, the facade of success meant nothing when all I wanted was to rewind time, to undo the damage I'd done to the one person who truly mattered.

I didn't feel anymore.

I was done.

─── ·✧· ───

I burst out of the courtroom.

I needed escape, not just from this sterile prison of a room, but from my own traitorous flesh.

That itch.

It was a wildfire beneath my skin, a thousand insects gnawing their way to the surface. My fingers twitched, claws desperate to tear, to bleed out the poison of this relentless craving.

My legs moved without conscious thought, pushing me towards my office. Somewhere. Anywhere I would be able to breathe again. The guilt was a serrated blade twisting in my gut, each movement slicing me open anew.

Her terror-stricken eyes seared into my very soul.

The walls of my office closed in, the familiar space suddenly too small, too suffocating. 

My fist slammed into the desk. Papers scattered to the floor, a meaningless sea of white against the dark wood.

They didn't matter. None of it mattered.

A half-finished coffee mug followed. Porcelain shattered. Dark liquid splashed against the wall. 

My blood roared in my ears. 

Across the room, my framed diploma. I ripped it off the wall. Glass smashed. Sharp edges bit into my palm, drawing blood. But it wasn't enough. I hurled the frame against the wall.

Blood, hot and slick, coated my hands, the pain nothing.

In the shattered frame, I caught a glimpse of myself — wild eyes in a sweat-slicked face, a man on the verge of collapse.

It was a stranger.

I was across the room before I even registered the decision.

The drawer.

My fingers ripped it open. 

There, like a coiled viper, the amber vial gleamed, a venomous promise of oblivion.

Don't —

Don't come at me now. 

Did you really think I wouldn't keep a backup?

My hand reached, then hesitated.

The world lurched to a sharp halt as a knock pierced the chaos. My breath hitched, the vial a burning brand in my bloodied hand.

The door creaked open.

And there he was. Sukuna. 

He leaned against the doorframe, that sickening smirk plastered on his face. It was like a lit fuse to a powder keg. The rage that had been gnawing at my insides, tearing me apart, finally found its target.

Before a single rational thought could form, I was on him. Fist to jaw, heard the crack, felt it in my knuckles. He stumbled back, the smirk finally wiping off his face.

I pinned him against the door. Forearm across his throat, crushing his windpipe. His eyes widened, but even then, there was that damn flicker of amusement.

"Well, well," he choked out, "this is a nice welcome back."

"Funny to you?"

He coughed, a harsh laugh scraping out of him. "C'mon, Satoru, relax. I did you a favor," he sputtered. "Your precious little student, she's better off now. You know I'm right."

Every muscle in my body tensed.

He was right. 

In his twisted way, he was. 

And that's what made it all so much worse.

My grip on his throat tightened. But there was nothing, no satisfactio, no release in the violence.

Sukuna saw it, the hesitation. His mouth twisted into a smirk again. "See, you get it. Sweet thing doesn't belong in this mess, does she? It's not for her, Satoru. It's for us."

His words scraped like nails on a chalkboard. 

Yes, she was safer now, untouched by the rot that festered within me. Some desperate, logical part of me clung to that. But how could I hold on to that when my heart was screaming for her closeness?

"Or maybe," Sukuna drawled, pushing the knife deeper, "maybe you wanted to see where this goes. Stain her a bit, make her just a little bit more like you."

My breath hitched. For a split second, the floor vanished beneath me.

"Hit a nerve, did I?"

"Shut the hell up!" I couldn't face it, couldn't face the ugly truth as it would tear me apart. "You twist everything. Play with lives just for your own sick amusement."

This was his game.

Sukuna thrived on chaos, on exploiting pain. 

He knew my guilt, my fear for her, and wielded it like a scalpel, laying bare the raw nerve of my fragile sanity.

"Perhaps. But ain't I right?  You needed to end it, but you lack the guts for it. Waited a bit longer, it'd be a total disaster."

I hesitated, then my grip on him slackened. I stepped back.

"You know I'm right," Sukuna continued. "You know how this would have ended. Suspension. Scandal. She'll be doomed forever for getting involved with her professor for favors. You wouldn't destroy her like that, would you? You're not that cruel."

"I'm not so sure." I ran a hand through my hair.  It had taken everything in me to push her away. 

But I can't deny that an ugly part of me wanted to keep her close. Drag her down with me. 

See her drown.

"Damn, you hit hard," he said, rubbing his jaw. "Go beat up some students again, not me."

"Stop giving me reasons to punch you."  Exhausted, I slumped into my desk chair, burying my face in my hands. My head pounded, the infuriating itch worsening with each damn moment. "Was this your plan all along?"

"What?" he scoffed.

I lifted a single eyebrow at him.

"You think that low of me? Honestly, Toru, a bit of credit, please. It was your pathetic indecision that made this entertaining. You basically gift-wrapped this mess and handed it to me."

"Besides," he continued, "let's be honest, you were holding her back. Now maybe she'll have a chance to become someone who might surpass you one day. You wouldn't deny her that, would you? No thanks needed."

He was right, and I hated that more than anything.

Sukuna sank into the chair across from me, a picture of smug satisfaction despite the visible bruise. "Damn, that punch still stings."

I opened my desk drawer and wordlessly tossed him the bottle of opioids. His eyes widened in surprise, before he gave the bottle a knowing shake. "Still on the hydromorphone?"

I didn't answer. The sound alone threatened to shatter what fragile control I had left. The itch was unbearable, each nerve ending screaming for relief.

Sukuna observed me, a predator watching its prey struggle. "Withdrawal never suited you," he said, popping a pill. "You always get so—" he paused, savoring the word, "—tense."

"Yeah, real supportive of you."

"Actually, I'm being incredibly supportive. I'm leaving for a little research trip overseas—four months. Ethics committee can't meet without me, so—" He leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Gives you time to get your shit together. Isn't that nice of me?"

"Shut the hell up."

"C'mon, I put in a good word for you too. No suspension for now. You can keep teaching, just no surgeries. Yaga really hates my guts, doesn't he? But hey, at least you're not totally screwed."

"You expect a thank you?"

"Relax, Toru, the show's over," he said. "Trust me, they don't want a scandal, let alone lose their star surgeon. When I get back, a slap on the wrist, maybe a semester's suspension, then you're back to the boring old grind."

A bitter laugh escaped me. "Last I checked, you were the one pushing for a scandal."

He rolled his eyes. "Someone had to do it. Knew you'd drag this out forever, playing the tragic hero. Needed a villain to get things moving." He gave a mocking bow. "At your service, my friend."

"Also," he continued, leaning forward in his chair, "the focus is off you now. The committee's sniffing around those implant engineers. Funny, isn't it?" 

Sukuna paused, savoring the moment. "Honestly, never thought there was anything wrong with your surgeries. You wouldn't make that kind of mistake. Tech malfunction more likely."

Of course. 

The bastard never doubted the damn research. It had all been a game to him — my career, my sanity, her — just pieces on his chessboard.

It should've made me furious, lash out, pound his face in again — but all I felt was a bone-deep exhaustion, a weariness that seeped into my very soul. I was too tired, too hollowed-out to do anything but swallow the bitter truth.

"That supposed to make me feel better?" 

"A little," he said, tossing the opioid bottle back. "This, though? That'll do the trick even better."

I caught it, my fingers clenching around the plastic.

He rose, stretching with a theatrical sigh. "Well, time to go. Remember, you owe me big time. You should take one," he gestured towards the pills, "you look like shit."

My grip on the bottle tightened. I looked up at him. "When all of this is done, I never want to see your damn face again."

He laughed. "We both know that's a lie. You and me? We need each other."

"The only thing you need is some damn therapy."

"Ah, Toru," he dismissed me with a smirk, "you'll come crawling back soon enough. We both know how this works."

With that, he was gone. I was left alone in the echoing silence, the pill bottle a burning weight in my hand. The world seemed to sway around me, my eyelids growing heavy.

The will to fight simply wasn't there anymore.

─── ·✧· ───

Cruel. 

Cruel how one little pill can undo everything. 

Cruel how one little pill can silence everything. 

Cruel how one damn pill can soften the world, make it — bearable, almost.

Unfair. 

It's truly unfair.

The screaming under my skin, that relentless itch — it's still there, but it had dulled to a faint hum, pushed back by the familiar numbness.

Finally.

Oh, finally some fucking silence.

I let out a shaky breath. It wasn't peace, not really. I knew that all too well. Borrowed time, each second ticking closer to the inevitable crash, the return of that relentless screaming in my head.

But for now, it'll have to be enough.

I collapsed on the couch, smoke curling lazily before my eyes.

I knew I shouldn't mix opioids with cannabis. That's something they teach you within the first year of university. What I used to teach students within the first year of university.

What a hypocrite I am really.

Another drag — harsh, burning down my throat. 

The urge to close my eyes, to sink into oblivion, was almost overwhelming. But sleep wouldn't bring respite. Only nightmares. I knew that only too well.

So, I lay there, staring up at the ceiling.

It really came down to me failing again, huh?

What was it now?

Attempt number five? 

Six?

I started losing count.

Maybe this was my fate.

A broken record, stuck on the same damn track.

Deep down, under the chemical haze, guilt gnawed at me. It was a dull ache now, no longer the searing pain of earlier, but a constant, insidious reminder. 

She were out there, her life forever marked by my choices, while I was — here. Hiding in a haze of pills and smoke.

God, I hoped Suguru was looking after her. Making sure she ate, making sure she was safe — that she didn't hate me too much.

I brought the joint to my lips again, the smoke curling up towards the ceiling. It left an acrid taste in my mouth.

I watched my hand for a second.

Bloodied earlier, the wounds had scabbed over, the blood dried. It was perfectly still now, the trembling smoothed out by the chemicals in my blood. 

I clenched it into a fist, then unclenched, watching the movement like it belonged to someone else.

Traitor.

This body was a traitor — betrayed myself, betrayed her, betrayed everything I held dear.

Weak. 

Broken.

A pathetic mess.

Was that it?

Living as a slave to these chemicals to patch up my crumbling sanity one day at a time? 

Chained to pills, each dawn a ticking clock until the next dose, until I could silence the screaming for a few damn hours?

My eyes locked onto the half-empty vial on the table. 

Took too many, didn't I?

I knew that, even through the haze. But a cold certainty twisted in my gut. There'd be more. Always more. Until there was nothing left.

Before I could think, I threw another down my throat. Bad idea, probably, after a few clean days.

Suddenly, the haze warped, twisting into nausea. Bile rose in my throat.

I lurched to my feet, the world tilting precariously with each step. Surfaces rippled, the bathroom light stabbing into my skull.

I barely made it. My stomach heaved. Each retch wracked my body, leaving me gasping, weak.

Too many. 

Way too many.

How the hell did I forget? Forget my body's limits? Somehow, I felt like some reckless student again, stumbling through experiments, blind to the consequences.

Stupid. So damn stupid.

Darkness swam at the edges of my vision.  Another wave of nausea, and I was back, hunched over the toilet. 

I hauled myself up, hands shaking, clinging to the sink. In the mirror, a stranger stared back. Eyes bloodshot, a sheen of sweat coating his skin.

This wasn't me anymore.

I splashed cold water on my face, trying to wash away the acid burn. Didn't help. Drops of water ran down my face, felt like they were melting the damn skin off.

My knees buckled. I slid down the wall, my head heavy against the tile wall. 

The bathroom light, needles in my brain moments ago, seemed impossibly distant now. Each breath was a ragged gasp, each pulse a dull throb in my temples.

I waited for it to pass, the nausea, the haze. But as minutes crawled by, a new, searing pain gnawed at me.

My fingers trembled against my abdomen, pressing into the tender spot. Liver, of course. 

Wrecked it, just like the rest of me. I'd known the risks, had ignored the warnings, and now my body was demanding payment.

How pathetic.

Darkness gnawed at the edges of my vision, pushing back against the stubborn spots of light. My head felt heavy, detached from my body. Arms and legs useless.

Each breath a battle I wasn't sure I'd win.

Time warped. Stretching, then snapping, leaving me floating in nausea and pain. Then I heard something — muffled, distant. Footsteps, getting closer.

My eyes struggled to make sense of the shifting shadows.

Then, a voice. Soft, achingly familiar. I couldn't make out the words, but the warmth of it—

I knew that voice — would always recognize it.

Cold water hit my skin. Hands, gentle, but firm, on my face. I strained to focus, to see her, to soak in the sight I needed, yet feared more than anything.

Oh, how desperately I needed to see her. Needed her to be real.

But my eyes betrayed me.

She must be so beautiful. She always was.

Then, a touch on my outstretched leg, a flash of metal — was that a scalpel?

Agony ripped through me, shattering the haze. I jerked back, my scream ragged against the tiles. My head slammed back with sickening force.

Before I knew it, a needle pierced my skin.

The room spun as whatever she'd injected battled the comfortable blur of the pills. Nausea churned in my stomach, the numbness receding with terrifying speed.

Groaning, I shifted on the floor.

My vision sharpened, my senses returning with brutal clarity. 

The first thing I noticed was the metallic glint of the discarded syringe beside my leg. 

Then the cut, a ragged gash through the fabric of my dress pants where she'd stabbed the needle in — the unnecessarily deep and brutal cut — but in the chaos, I let it slide. Didn't even register the pain as I watched the blood drain from the cut. 

I reached for the syringe and read the label. 

Adrenaline. 

Smart girl. 

But as I turned it over, a frown creased my brow. Two fucking milliliters? Was she trying to give me a damn heart attack?

I lifted my head, the question burning on my tongue. But the words died unspoken as my gaze locked on hers. 

She stood there, just a few feet away, her breath ragged, her eyes — those pretty eyes.

Terror. 

There was raw, unadulterated terror etched in her eyes. But I was right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Even with those terror-stricken eyes she was breathtaking.

She stumbled back, slumping against the wall opposite of me with a choked gasp, pulling her knees up. I didn't move, couldn't move, my gaze locked with hers.

The terror faded slowly, replaced by a weariness that was far worse. 

For a fleeting moment, I saw a flicker of that familiar defiance, the spark I both loved and feared. But even that felt strangely muted now, as if even the energy to fight had been drained out of her.

She simply watched me. In silence, in that devastating silence.

How I hated her silence.

Because her silence was far worse than anything she could have screamed, any insult she could have hurled my way. Her stillness, her silence, was the most terrifying weapon she'd ever wielded against me.

And for the first time in a very long time, I was truly afraid.

Time stretched, then I choked out, "You're angry."

Her answer was blunt, devoid of emotion. "Oh really? What makes you think that?"

I glanced down. Blood still seeped from the gash in my leg. With a trembling hand, I fumbled for a towel and pressed it against the wound. "Your cut is kinda deep. Was that on purpose?"

She didn't say anything.

It probably was on purpose.

My gaze fell on the syringe. "Where'd you get that?"

"What happened to your hand?"

"I asked first."

"Don't try to play games now, Satoru. You're walking on thin fucking ice," she snapped.

"Shattered some glass," I said after a pause ", and punched Sukuna."

"Stole it from the hospital."

"What?"

"You think I'd date an addict and not have adrenaline on hand?"

My lips twitched into a weary smile. Oh my beautiful, brilliant girl, always prepared.

"But you know, two milliliters is a bit much." I moved my leg slightly to check if she had cut any tendons, which would complicate the healing a bit. "Or are you trying to kill me?"

Her gaze pierced me, colder than any scalpel. "Looks like you're doing a fine job of that yourself."

My smile faded.

Silence.

Oh, that cruel silence again.

She didn't say anything. Maybe I should be thankful for that, because if she said anything now, I'd probably crumble completely — if I haven't already.

Ironic, wasn't it? 

How much power this woman had over me. 

Yet it was me who destroyed her.

She dropped her head, ran a shaking hand through her hair, then looked at me again. "How much did you take?"

Huh?

Why would she ask that?

Didn't she see that it's over?

That I'm too far gone?

It was unbearable.

It was unbearable, how she could still look at me and see someone worth saving. It was unbearable, knowing she believed in me even when I didn't. 

Almost pissed me off, how stubbornly she clung to that stupid hope. Because seeing that hope in her eyes — it made me hate myself even more.

I wouldn't change, couldn't. Not for her, not for anyone.

"Doesn't matter. It's over."

"Satoru, please," she choked out, pain raw in her voice, the pain I caused, "cut the crap and tell me. Now."

"It doesn't matter," I repeated, my voice cold. I couldn't bear the flicker of hope, couldn't bear to fail her yet again.

Then, the first tear rolled down her cheek and my heart shattered, the fragments piercing me from within. 

I'd never wanted to be the reason those beautiful eyes filled with pain, the reason her sweet lips trembled. Every fiber of my being wanted to pull her close, erase the hurt I'd caused.

I would have given anything, sacrificed anything, if only I could make it stop.

But I couldn't.

Because I was the problem. I was the poison.

She buried her face in her hands. "I'm tired, Satoru."

"I know."

"I'm so fucking tired," she whispered through tears.

"I know, love."

My eyes burned as I watched her fragile body shudder. Each sob of her driving a stake deeper into my already bleeding heart. I bit my lip until I tasted blood. 

I hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself, hated myself because — because I was the reason for all of this. 

She'd never wanted this, never wanted to fall in love with me to begin with, but I dragged her into it anyway.

Because I was selfish. 

Knew how it would end.

And now, I could only watch — only watch in this unbearable silence as the woman I loved wept over the man I hated. 

"It's for the best, believe me—"

"No," she cut me off.  "You're sacrificing me for this—this reputation of mine you think matters. It doesn't. I don't want any of it without you. I don't want a future where you're not in it."

She looked up then, eyes red and filled with unshed tears. "Because I love you, Satoru."

What?

The words turned my blood to ice.

After everything — the lies, the ways I'd hurt her, the desperate attempts to push her away — there it was, the confession I'd craved and feared in equal measure.

My heart was being ripped apart and stitched back together again in that very moment — vulnerable and yet so unbearably full. 

She loved me, she said it.

She loves me.

She loves me.

And I love her.

God, how I loved her. More than I thought possible.

I've never once loved in my entire life. 

Not until her. 

Not until she changed me completely. 

What is that, anyway? Love?

How can I possible describe the type of feeling I feel when I'm with her? How can I ever convey the words when they are not even clear to me? 

How cruel it is. How utterly cruel the type of feeling is, that she makes me feel.

Because how could I ever live without it.

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

How to live.

How could I ever go back to what I was before her — was there even something before her?

Not when she showed me how to breathe.

With her.

For her. 

Because she is the air that fills my lungs.

The pulse that keeps me alive.

And nothing can ever change that. So how could I ever go back to what I was before? 

Oh, how she tortures me, tortures me with feelings I rather not feel, tortures me with her love that I deserve so little. 

Nothing. 

I deserve nothing and yet she gives me everything.

Why can't I give it back? What chains me, binds this rotten heart? Why does it fail me so cruelly to love her the way she deserves? 

Because she does. 

She deserves everything. 

She is everything. 

Yet there is only my own failure in loving her. I'm failing her again and again. I hurt her again and again. I hate myself, hate myself for the pain I cause her.

Still—

How can I let her go, when she's the only good thing in my life? 

It is selfish, selfish to say the least, to want to keep her close when all I do is fail her.

Her tears were molten iron searing my insides. But I clench my jaw, refusing to let them break me. If she saw weakness, she might hesitate. Might stay and continue to be broken by me. 

Every fiber of my being wanted nothing more than to reach out, to comfort her, to tell her it would all be okay.

More lies for a heart that deserved nothing but the truth. So I swallowed down the love threatening to spill from my lips. 

I would give her anything, my life, the last shreds of my sanity — except the one thing she asked for, the only thing she ever ask for. 

Because loving her, truly loving her, meant letting her go. Even if it destroys me.

"I spare you," I rasped.

"No." She slowly shook her head. "You're killing me. Can't you see?" There was a cold edge in her voice now. "You're killing me."

"I can't change. Love isn't enough. I can't stop."

"You're the only one who thinks that." Her reply held a flicker of her old, beautiful defiance, a defiance I loved so dearly. "I'd follow you anywhere, Satoru. Even if you can't get clean, then so be it. I don't care. I won't leave you."

The sincerity in her voice was a blow, a beautiful, terrible blow. Complete, unwavering acceptance of who I was, in all my brokenness.

And in that moment, I finally realized. 

It wasn't about saving her. It was about saving myself from the terrifying vulnerability her love demanded. From the weakness that threatened to drown me if I let her in.

Perhaps I'm just a coward after all.

My heart was too damn small, too messed up. Of course I had to push her out, deny her the love she offered so freely — because it terrified me.

Her love terrified me.

"I can't do this to you," I choked out, the words scraping my throat raw. "You deserve—" I swallowed, the words catching in my throat. "You deserve better." 

"Better?" She leaned forward slightly. "You are my better."

Oh, love, that's not true.

You are my better. I'm your worst.

I wanted to say that, should've said that.

But I remained silent, unable to say anything. 

"Say something, Satoru." 

I couldn't, simply couldn't. Because mere words were too hollow, too insignificant against the depth of her pain.

"Say something, damn it!" 

"It will get easier someday," I chocked out. Each word felt like a stone I was forcing down my own throat. Each word empty — we both knew it.

"Is that what you hope for?"

"I have to."

She closed her mouth. Her silence more devastating than any scream. She didn't explode, as I half-expected. Instead, she straightened, her movements slow, weary.

I watched her, unable to move, unable to look away, as a horrifying realization bloomed across her face. It wasn't anger, wasn't sadness — it was a terrible understanding.

She knew. She always knew.

Perhaps that's what I hated about her the most.

"That's it?" she asked.

"That's it."

She watched me.  Not in anger, but with chilling detachment. Her eyes, usually so filled with warmth, were now as distant as those of a stranger. 

Still, I burned the image into my soul, knowing it might be the last time.

Then, without another word, she turned. And walked away.

When she finally disappeared from sight, a wave of crushing despair washed over me. It wasn't just the loneliness. It was the terrifying certainty that there was no going back from this. 

I had destroyed the best thing in my life — a sacrifice she didn't even ask for.

But then again, my sacrifice is really only an illusion after all, masking a desperate, terrified selfishness.

Because I'm selfish.

I do love her.  Gods, how I love her. 

But my fear was stronger.

And I was too damn weak to fight it.

─── ·✧· ───

Four weeks.

Was it four weeks?

I can't remember.

Time — it didn't tick or flow anymore. 

It was a shapeless thing. Punctuated only by the empty thump of my heart in this wrecked chest.

Those first days — or weeks, who knows? — they melted together in a haze. After she left, I was — raw. One giant exposed nerve.  

Each damn breath without the pills felt like scraping sandpaper across it, a reminder  of what I'd lost — no, what I'd destroyed.

So I was barely sober.

My body didn't even protest. At first, it was almost — nice? The rush, the way it wiped out not just the pain but any thought at all.

But the crash was always brutal. Mornings, if you could even call it that, I'd wake up shaking, sick to my stomach, and terrified of — what was I even terrified of? Somehow of everything and nothing at all. But I knew the fix for that. 

It was a sick, relentless cycle.

The phone rang, vibrated with messages. Suguru mostly. His messages growing more urgent with each unanswered text. Liver issues. Treatment. Something about irreversible damage.   

It was all white noise compared to the screaming in my head.

Her name, though, cut through the haze.

There were nights — or was it days? — when a desperate, clawing need to hear her voice, to see her face, would rise up in me. I'd reach for the phone, fingers hovering above her name. Then the fear would crush that impulse. 

I knew that reaching out to her would be the final act of cruelty.

So I stumbled on, each day collapsing into the next. 

Until the next semester started and I remembered I had an actual job.

─── ·✧· ───

I stood in the corridor outside the auditorium.

My fingers fumbled with the familiar pill bottle. Just enough to numb the edge, get me through the lecture. With a bitter swallow, I tilted the pill into my palm, chasing it down dry.

Four weeks. Four weeks of barely holding it together, four weeks since I almost OD'd, four weeks since she left, and the weight of it all threatened to crush me at any moment. 

Yet, muscle memory took over.

I limped slightly as I walked into the auditorium. My leg still hurt after she basically cut my muscle in half. 

She definitely did that on purpose. She was too smart not to not know what she was doing.

The usual chatter died down when I walked in.  Old routine. Time for the performance. Pretend I'm the professor, pretend like this whole thing isn't ripping me apart, piece by piece. It should have been comforting. 

Once, perhaps, it was.

Wordlessly, I grabbed a marker, scrawled my name on the board. Like they didn't already know who I was, right? 

Everyone on campus knows, especially after this summer's mess.

With a sigh, I turned towards the class.

And there she was. 

My breath hitched, the marker clattering to the floor. My lips parted, but no words came.

Of course.

Of fucking course. 

Second-year lecture. 

How the hell could I forget that?

She was here, after everything, right in front of me. The pain of the past weeks, that suffocating emptiness — it all melted away, replaced by a pounding headache in that one instant.

My eyes clung to her, unable to look away, drinking in the sight of her. That stubborn tilt of her head, the pain in those beautiful eyes — God, how I'd missed her. 

Yet with every beat of my yearning heart came a fresh wave of guilt. I longed to reach out, to apologize, to tell her how much I'd missed her. 

But I knew it was wrong. 

Then, it hit me. Every eye in the room was on her, following my gaze like a spotlight burning into her. Damn it.

Still, she didn't flinch.

Endured it like she has always endured everything.

Clearing my throat, I managed to speak as I adverted my gaze. "So, uh, let's start the lecture."

My voice echoed in the now tense auditorium, words tumbling out in a forced attempt at normalcy. The lecture blurred. My own words were just noise in my head. I pushed through the lecture. Don't even remember what I lectured about.

It was routine, should have been easy, but — not with her there. Never with her. 

Every damn minute, my eyes flicked towards her, drawn like a magnet. I couldn't help it. Because all I could see was her. But she avoided my gaze.

Should've expected that.

Shouldn't make me angry, right?

Still did.

Finally, thank god, the bell rang. 

I let out a breath I didn't even know I was holding.

I remained behind my desk and gathered my notes. Students surged towards the exit, a faceless blur of motion. My traitorous gaze remained locked on her as the auditorium slowly emptied.

She and her friends passed by me. Before I could even think, the words tumbled out, "Wait, not—not you, first-year."

Silence. 

Her friend's chatter halted abruptly. I hadn't meant to say it, hadn't thought before the desperate need to speak to her had short-circuited my brain.

Now, it was done.

Her eyes, those beautiful eyes, met mine. For a moment, time seemed to stand still. 

Her friends exchanged glances. I could feel Zenin glaring daggers at me, didn't even need to look. She'd always been fiercely protective.

"I'll catch up later," she said then to her friends, a strained smile plastered on her face. 

They left, leaving us alone in the vast, suddenly suffocating auditorium.

Silence again.

My heart hammered against my ribs, so loud I feared she could hear it.

Finally, she spoke. "You know I'm not a first-year anymore."

I rounded the desk, the wood rough against my fingertips. "Yeah, right. Sorry." Leaning against it, I crossed my arms.

"Didn't you get suspended?"

"They postponed it."

She watched me for a moment, those beautiful eyes drilling into me. Her eyes held a coldness I've never seen before. For a sickening moment, I thought I might throw up.

"How are you?"

"Don't," she snapped. "Don't ask me that. Don't you dare pretend to care after—" 

She stopped herself, the silence louder than any accusation. After everything you did. After you pushed me away. After you nearly killed yourself.

She didn't need to voice it.

My hands clenched into fists against the edge of my desk, nails digging into my palms in a futile attempt to ground myself. Needed to maintain this thin illusion of control.

I do care. Dammit, I care more than you'll ever know. 

I wanted to scream it, to tear open my chest and show her the bleeding wound she'd left behind. But the words stuck in my throat. 

Pointless now, anyway.

Knuckles turned white, nails digging deeper.

She stepped closer. Her hand darted into her bag, then shot out, palm open. Keys glinted in the harsh light — the keys to my apartment. 

I watched them for a second. Should've expected that. Shouldn't hurt me. Still did.

"You don't have to return them. I want you to keep them."

"Why? I won't need them anymore, will I? Or are you planning on overdosing again?"

Each word was acid on an open wound.

I deserved this, the anger, the contempt, it was all on me. But why the hell did it make me so fucking angry?

"Have you ever thought about how I felt when I found you?" she snapped, her voice rising. "How terrified I was when you wouldn't respond? When you couldn't even recognize me? When I thought you'd die on me?" She took a shaky breath. "Fuck Satoru, I held your face in my hands while you were barely breathing!"

I tried to speak, but she cut me off.  "Don't. You. Dare."

"Four weeks," she went on, her voice sharp, laced with a fury that cut to the bone. "Four weeks of silence. Ever think I might be drowning, haunted by what I saw? Or were you too busy numbing yourself with pills? Hell, I didn't even know if you'd overdosed for good this time!"

Her words hit me cold, but they weren't the storm tearing me apart. It was the image of her, terrified, holding my barely-alive body, that ripped my insides out. 

Those eyes — her eyes filled with a terror that was all because of me. The guilt choked me. Seeing my near-death through her haunted eyes is twisted a knife in my gut.

It was the look of someone who'd had a piece of her soul ripped out. 

It was the look of someone who loved me.

"But then again, you never cared about me, did you?" she added, the raw hurt bleeding beneath the anger.

My stomach twisted. "Don't you dare say that," I rasped, the words ripping from my throat. "I care so much it damn near killed me. You were the only thing keeping me alive, the only reason I fought at all! Don't you dare say I don't—" I choked, the pain unbearable.

The room seemed to tilt, my anger threatening to consume me. 

I took a step towards her, closing the distance in one move. We were so close, I could smell her damn shampoo. "Every damn thing I did, every stupid decision—it was all because I care about you too much."

Her eyes widened. But only for a second. Then, that cold defiance was back, and it cut deep. 

"You're really pathetic, you know that?" she spat. "You talk about caring, but in the end you threw everything away. Because you are too terrified to let yourself love me. Because apparently your own damn peace is worth more than me."

Her words were knives, finding their mark with cruel efficiency. 

"Shut up," I whispered. "You know nothing."

"Oh really?" She glared at me, "then let me paint the picture for you—the minute things got difficult, the second you had to face actual consequences for your actions, you used it as an excuse to back away. Shut yourself down."

She moved closer still. "Convenient, wasn't it? Pushing me away, destroying us—it absolved you from having to confront anything real."

Her accusations hit uncomfortably close to home.

And I didn't want to hear it from her lips.

Not from hers.

"Shut up," I growled.

"Don't you dare tell me to shut up," she snapped back, her voice rising. "You don't get to play the victim here. You did this. You ruined everything."

Fury ignited, not at her, but at myself. 

Blindly, I reached out, my fingers gripping her jaw so tight it bordered on violence. I forced her to look at me, my eyes burning into hers. "Shut up, or I swear to god, I'll make you."

Her chin lifted, eyes narrowing. "I dare you."

The words set me on fire. Every rational thought, every vestige of self-preservation was devoured by a sudden, desperate need. My gaze fell to her lips, slightly parted, a vulnerable target I craved to claim.

Without even thinking, my hand went to her waist, fingers digging in as I pulled her impossibly close. My other hand tangled in her hair, forcing her head back. Our eyes locked, some kind of messed-up challenge.

I could feel her rapid breaths on my skin, smell that damn perfume of hers that I'd always loved, but now was driving me to the edge of control. Her heart pounding against mine.

Everything in me screamed to close the distance, claim those lips that had haunted me, haunted me for weeks. 

I wanted to claim her, to silence her, to lose myself in her, but my last shred of sanity held me back.

Because pushing her further into my nightmare was the ultimate act of cruelty. 

"Uncomfortable, isn't it? Getting confronted with the ugly truth?" she whispered against my lips.

My grip on her tightened. She really didn't know when to stop, or maybe she simply wanted to watch me burn. Perhaps both.

"Don't push me."

"Why? Scared of what you'll find if you let yourself be honest for once?" Her head tilted. Her gaze was fire, and I was already ash. "You run, Satoru. From everything, but most of all, from yourself."

"And that," she leaned closer, almost brushing my lips, "is what makes you the most pathetic person I know."

Oh, she could be so viciously cruel when she wanted to. So disgustingly cruel. It was one of the things I'd fallen hopelessly in love with. Even now, as it tore me apart, I still loved it. 

But I also wanted nothing more than to fuck that attitude out of her right then and there.

"You're right. You're always right. Maybe that's what's terrifies me about you so much."

"You're not terrified of me," she whispered. "You're terrified of yourself."

The air between us crackled. Every rational thought in my brain begged me to stop. Still, I couldn't resist. I inched closer, helpless against the force that binds and burns us both.

My hands tightened their hold as I took a sharp inhale. Her eyes fluttered shut, lashes trembling. 

Our lips hovered, almost touching, two aching souls suspended in that impossible space. So much unspoken words, so much hurt, and the destructive pull between us that had always tethered us together.

Then, the auditorium door creaked open. 

Her head snapped towards the sound. But I couldn't look away, wouldn't miss a second of her. Because this, right here, was all I had left.

Had to be Suguru anyway — anyone else would be screaming their heads off by now.

After a pause, she turned back at me. "You know, I'm still waiting."

"For what, love?"

"For it to get easier."

I looked at her, the woman I loved, and guilt clawed at my insides. That hurt, that anger on her face — I deserved it all. Because it was the consequence of the pain I'd caused.

"You said it would get easier," she added.

It was a lie. Nothing about this was easy. Nothing ever would be again. Suddenly, the room felt too small, the air thick and unbreathable.

"I don't know if it ever will."

Perhaps I was only meant to love her in silence.

In distance.

Because at least then I couldn't hurt her anymore.

Suguru cleared his throat. He stepped into the room, breaking the moment.

Reluctantly, I let go of her. She stepped back, eyes holding mine for a second, something flickering there that I didn't dare try to read. Then, without another word, she turned and walked away.

I watched her go.

Suguru approached me, stopping close by. He didn't say anything.

I leaned against the desk, running a hand through my hair. The adrenaline from that almost-kiss crashed, leaving behind a hollow ache.

The sound of the door slamming behind her echoed in the empty auditorium, way too loud.

Suguru's hand landed on my shoulder. 

"You really have a thing for bad timing," I muttered.

"Bad timing," he echoed, "or good timing to stop you from doing something stupid?"

I didn't answer. The memory of her, so close, choked every thought out of my mind.

"You know it was the right thing to do. With everything going on, letting her go was the right decision."

"I know," I said, pushing off the desk and rounding it to gather my things. I couldn't meet his gaze. "I'm trying to remember that."

Suguru then started placing pill bottles on the desk with a serious expression. The first clink of plastic on wood cut through the silence. 

"Prednisone for the liver inflammation." Another bottle. "Lactulose for the hepatic encephalopathy." Then another. "Vitamin B and K for the nutritional deficiencies."

"But you know the first step would be to—" he paused for a second then placed another two bottles in from of me. "Methadone, to manage the withdrawal and craving. And Naltrexone, to block the euphoric effects of your opioids."

Hesitantly, another bottle appeared. "Clonidine, in case you feel like you're dying."

"Suguru—" I began, but he cut me off.

"Satoru, you have to get clean. The pills won't do a damn thing if you keep wrecking your liver."

"Yeah, it's a little late for that, don't you think? It's the only thing keeping me sane right now."

He sighed.  "You're the absolute worst patient ever."

"Aw, come on, I thought you liked a bit of challenge. You're the best doctor, you'll figure something out."  I rummaged through my bag, pulling out a folder.

"Even the best doctor on earth can't help if you don't—"

I shoved the folder across the desk, cutting him off. "What's this?"

"It's a patient. An anyeurism. I'm still not allowed to do surgery, not until this thing with the ethics committee is over."

Suguru opened the folder, flipping through the pages.  "You want me to do it?  Is there something special about this patient?"

"I want you to take her with you," I said quietly. "She likes aneurysm clippings."

Suguru looked up, that familiar crease between his brows.  "She'll figure it out. Sooner or later. Latest when you're in the hospital waiting for a liver transplant, not lecturing anymore."

Silence stretched. My eyes fell on the pill bottles lined up on the desk. 

I sighed, then gathered them and crammed them into my bag.  "Let's go. I need fresh fair," I said as I brushed past him, putting the withdrawal meds back into his hands.

Without another word, I left the auditorium.

─── ·✧· ───

My eyes snapped open.

I sat upright, a strangled gasp tearing from my throat. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat threatening to burst right out of my chest. 

For a disorienting second, the world was a blur. Sweat drenched my skin. My lungs screamed for air.

Damn nightmares. 

Another night of that shit. 

I clutched at my chest, trying to quell the frantic pounding. Cold sweat made my shirt cling to my skin. The room spun. My pulse thundered in my ears.

I fumbled for the lamp, the sudden brightness stinging my eyes. But it didn't chase away the image seared into my brain. Her face, cruel, beautiful, cruelly beautiful, twisted in absolute terror. My stomach twisted.

My fault. 

Always my fault.

I couldn't breathe right.

Sleep was a lost cause now. First decent rest in a week, and my brain decided to torment me again. Exhaustion was its own kind of hell, but it was nothing compared to this. That, more than anything, was the real torture.

I slumped forward, scrubbing a hand over my face.

I'd hurt her. 

I'd hurt her, the one person who meant something.

Every day, it felt more like I'd made the biggest mistake of my life. Letting her go, pushing her away, I—

I hated myself. 

Hated the way I ruined everything.

Hated the way I ruined every chance at something good. 

It was like a damn curse.

Nothing good ever lasted for me. I should've known that by now.

Damn it, I knew it was wrong. But how the hell could it be wrong when it'd felt so damn right? When she was the only thing, the only person, that cut through the crap, made this whole mess seem like it might have some sort of meaning?

How could that possibly be wrong?

Guilt ate at my insides. Had I been a damn coward? Too scared to fight for something that made me feel, really feel?

Perhaps.

Easier to push her away, sabotage the whole damn thing, than risk actually letting her in. Letting anyone in. Losing control. But it didn't matter now, did it? 

It was over. 

I needed out. Out of my head, out of this apartment, out of my own damn skin. 

The silence was unbearable.

I pushed off the bed, muscles screaming in protest. I slipped into running clothes, the routine automatic. As I laced up my shoes, a sharp sting shot through my leg from the still-healing cut on my leg.

That bitch. 

The more I thought about it, the more sure I was she'd done it on purpose.

Good thing I was addicted to painkillers, huh?

I drowned a pill — no two, for good measure — before stepping outside into the pre-dawn chill. 

Cold autumn air bit at my skin. Each step echoed on the empty street. The pills kicked in, dulling the sharp pain in my leg. Good. Long as the cut didn't split open, I didn't damn care.

I pushed myself, needing the burn in my muscles, the ache in my lungs, to drown out the constant echo of her voice, her name, in my head.

The world blurred. Streetlights, shadows, it all melded together. The only reality was the ache in my body, the cold air forcing its way into my lungs. My mind, for once, was mercifully blank. 

No nightmares, no guilt, no memories of her haunted eyes — just the simple focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

I didn't set a goal, didn't choose a destination. 

Just moving, pushing, escaping.

Sweat dripped, but I barely registered. With each mile, the crushing weight eased. Not gone, hell, not even close to forgotten, but  — manageable. 

I ran until the city was a smear of lights, until my legs burned and my lungs screamed. 

Finally, gasping for breath, legs threatening to give out, I stumbled to a halt. The neon lights of a Seven Eleven cut through the pre-dawn darkness. My throat was sandpaper. I pushed through the door.

Inside, the harsh lights stung my eyes. I grabbed a water, my body on autopilot as I shuffled toward the register. The bored-looking teenager behind the counter gave me a sidelong look as I fumbled for my wallet.

"Rough night?"

"Something like that." I glanced down at my leg, the still-healing cut a visible red line. Wincing, I shifted my weight, favoring the uninjured side. 

I pulled out my card to pay, but then a flash of color caught my eye. Beside the cashier's register, stacked in a gaudy pyramid, was a display of energy drinks. I starred at them for a second, the name oddly familiar.

I knew why the name was so familiar.

I reached for a can and placed it on the counter. "And this."

Outside, I downed the water in a matter of seconds. Then, I cracked open the energy drink. The first sip hit my tongue. Surprisingly, it didn't taste half-bad without a shot of stale coffee to ruin it. 

But the taste wasn't the problem, wasn't it? 

Memories flooded back. Her, hunched over a massive anatomy textbook in the dim library, those beautiful eyes ringed with exhaustion. Beside her, half-empty, a mug of coffee — spiked with the sickeningly sweet energy drink I currently held.

Just the thought of that awful mixture made my stomach turn.

Still, a smile tugged at my lips.

Dammit, I didn't want to think about her. But to be fair, thinking, not thinking — it was all the same. The dull, constant ache of her absence throbbed beneath it all.

I chugged the rest of the energy drink, crushing the can in my hand.

Ah, fuck it.

Before my sanity could interfere, my legs were in motion.

I knew this was wrong. Knew every step took me closer to more pain. Knew all along this was stupid, reckless — inevitable. 

I couldn't stop.

The pull towards her was too damn strong. I needed to see her, to confirm her existence, to know she was real, to fix — what? What the hell could I fix? What the hell did I even think I was doing?

Finally, gasping for breath, I stumbled to a halt outside her apartment building.

A glance at my watch confirmed the hour — well past 3 am. Insane. I hadn't expected her to be awake. Just needed the pathetic reassurance of her presence. But as I looked up, my breath hitched. 

In a second-floor window, a flicker of warm light spilled into the darkness. And there, etched against that warmth — her silhouette. Unmistakable.

A heavy exhale escaped my lips. 

She was there.

Here.

On this same cursed world with me.

My heart pounded against my ribs. I knew, I had no right to be here. But god, I needed this, needed to see her.

She sat on the windowsill, book in hand. My future wife. Even in the dead of night, she was studying. How I loved her.

My gaze traced the familiar curve of her shoulders, the way the soft lamplight painted her skin with warmth, highlighting the strands of hair escaping her messy bun. 

In that stolen moment, I could almost convince myself that things were different, that my actions hadn't irrevocably shattered something precious.

But then, she moved. Rising from her seat, she stretched, drawing the fabric of her shirt upwards. Before my mind could catch up, she was at the window, pushing it open. I froze.

She was staring down — right at me. 

Shit.

I held my breath. For what felt like an eternity, we simply stared at each other. A muscle in her jaw twitched. Then her gaze dropped, breaking eye contact.

"You're bleeding."

I glanced down. The edge of my shorts was soaked through, a fresh stain of crimson spreading. Damn it. The cut had reopened.

"Yeah," I said, looking back up at her, "I'm a mess."

I braced myself for whatever was coming. The anger, the disgust, the righteous fury — it would all be justified. I deserved it. But she simply watched me. Her gaze was steady, devoid of emotion. 

"You know where the entrance is," she said finally, then leaned back into the soft glow of her room and closed the window shut.

Before my brain could catch up with how wrong this was, I walked toward the apartment building.

─── ·✧· ───

I sat on the edge of her bed, she on a chair in front of me, her hands already on my leg as she pushed the fabric of my shorts up. "How could you not notice that?"

I opened my mouth, but she cut me off, "Wait, forget it." 

Yeah. Now she remembered.

With practiced efficiency, she began cleaning the wound. Her touch was surprisingly gentle, considering how pissed she must be. 

The silence was heavy, broken only by the rustle of bandages and my occasional  sharp intake of breath when the antiseptic hit a raw spot.

My eyes wandered. Her space, even small and half-finished, felt warm, lived in. Smelled like her. Books spilling everywhere, papers scattered on a desk, a yoga mat forgotten in the corner — the organized chaos was so perfectly her.

Then my gaze landed on the half-unpacked boxes stacked against the wall. She really still didn't fully move in. Occupied with my mess, huh? 

Guilt flooded me. I didn't deserve this, didn't deserve her gentle hands on me, not after everything. 

Yet, a selfish part of me wanted nothing more than to stay exactly like this, wanted nothing more than to keep her hands on me.

With a sigh, I sank back against her pillows. Exhaustion seeped into my bones. Pain returned as the effects of the pills wore off.

Her fingers brushed the reopened cut. I winced, throwing an arm over my eyes. The relentless pounding in my head threatened to split me open, spilling all the ugly thoughts onto her pristine sheets.

"You've had nightmares again, haven't you?"

Huh? 

I lifted my head a fraction, struggling to meet her eyes. She glanced up briefly, her eyes guarded, then focused back on my leg.

"Yeah, something like that." My head thumped back onto the pillow. "Hard to sleep when your head won't shut up."

"What dose?"

"You really don't want to know."

"I asked because I do," she countered. The sharp tug as she tightened the bandage around my leg was enough to make me speak.

"Ten milligrams," I admitted, wincing. "The usual."

She scoffed, then another, even sharper, tug had me gritting my teeth. "Ngh—fuck," I moaned. 

I really needed a pill now.

She stood, gathering the first-aid supplies. "Heals slowly, doesn't it?"

I knew it.

I popped myself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow at her. 

"Don't give me that look. You know damn well you deserved it."

I let out a dry laugh. "You really are a bitch sometimes." I dropped back onto the bed, my hand reaching for my throbbing head. 

I needed two pills now.

"You've got some damn nerve. You show up here in the middle of the night, injured, high—"

"I'm not high—"

"Save it," she spat. "You know what your fucking problem is? You can't stand being alone. Alone with your thoughts, with yourself. So you run. You run to pills, to whatever distraction you can find, anything to fill the void."

Yeah, how the hell am I supposed to want to be alone after feeling what it's like to be with you, stupid.

"You're too damn scared to face your fears," she continued, her voice laced with a bitter edge, "and when someone threatens your artificial peace, someone who might actually force you to look in the damn mirror, you panic. You sabotage it, push them away before it all gets too real, too close."

She stepped closer. "Because it's easier, isn't it? Safer to stick with the misery you know than risk having to face that void."

Every word stung, but I couldn't deny it, couldn't lie anymore.

"You're right. And I'm sorry—"

"Don't." She rose a hand at me. "Don't pretend you care, Satoru. You've made it clear how little I matter."

How little you matter? 

Oh, love, you couldn't be more wrong.

A harsh laugh escaped me. 

"You find this funny?"

"No, love," I said, pushing myself up. My leg throbbed in protest, but I ignored it. Everything narrowed down to her. I moved closer, a strange recklessness fueling me. "Quite the opposite."

Something flickered in her eyes — surprise? wariness? — but the anger remained.

"Keep going," I insisted, moving closer. "Let it out. Yell at me, tell me how pathetic I am. Make me feel something, anything other than this damn emptiness."

She hesitated. Her eyes searched mine, and for a breathless moment, I hoped that her fury, her anger, would burn away the numbness, making me feel something, anything.

Because even her anger was better than her indifference.

I couldn't stand being indifferent to her.

Might as well make her hate me.

"You want me to yell at you?" Her voice rose, the first hint of the storm I craved. "Fine! You wanna be a pathetic mess? Go ahead! Piss away your career, your life, whatever the hell you care about, I don't give a damn anymore!"

Each word hit me, but there was a desperate relief in it. Finally, she wasn't looking at me with that chilling indifference, that cold pity that twisted a knife in my gut. 

Her rage, it was fire — scorching and brutal, but alive. And I loved it.

Because it was prove she still cared, even if it was just to hate me with every fiber of her being. It was better than the void, that terrible chasm that had opened up between us after I'd pushed her away.

I closed the distance, enjoying the anger in her eyes. She flinched, but didn't back down.

"More." I grabbed her waist, lifting her with ease, and hauled her towards the bed.

"You're weak!" she spat, pushing against my chest, her voice rising with each word.

Yeah, so damn weak for you, love.

"You're selfish! So consumed by your own self-pity you can't see how you hurt everyone around you!"

Her words should have hurt. They probably would have, under different circumstances. But right now, I couldn't care less.

"Keep going," I rasped, my pulse pounding in my ears. I forced her onto the bed and hovered over her, my body trapping her between the mattress and my own. "C'mon, love, let it all out."

"You don't deserve me," she continued. "You don't deserve anyone who gives a damn, because you only know how to destroy things."

Each word was a knife. Yet, with each insult, the suffocating hollowness inside me eased a fraction. I wanted her anger, the full force of it, wanted the burn only she could inflict on me.

"More."

Her breath hitched, eyes narrowing. "You keep breaking my heart over and over, then come crawling back when it suits you, like it doesn't matter!"

"You're right." I leaned in, my thumb brushing over her bottom lip. The thin fabric of her shirt did little to hide her shivers. "C'mon, love, give it to me. I know you can do better."

In one swift move, I ripped my shirt over my head, tossing it to the floor. I leaned down again, my breath ghosting over her lips. "Hate me." My hands went for the flimsy waistband of her shorts. "Tell me how much you despise me."

Her breaths came fast, quick gasps against my skin.  I could see it all over her face — the rage, the fear, and maybe — yeah, maybe that darker edge, the same desperation burning in me.

"I fucking hate you, Satoru. Hate that you made me care, made me fall for you, then crushed it."

"Don't stop," I said, my voice a hoarse rasp. "Say it again." Before she could react, her shorts were down, exposing her to the night air. My own pants followed hasty, desperate. "Say you hate me."

"I fucking hate that you treat me like I'm just another damn plaything to fill whatever void your messed-up mom or whatever left you with!"

Okay, now it gets personal.

"I fucking hate that you act like you can control me," she hissed, but her body betrayed her, shivered running down her skin as my hands gazed her collarbone. "Hate that you make my choices for me, decide what's good for me, like you got to have control over something when you obviously can't control yourself!"

Damn, Freud himself is on to something tonight, huh? She really doesn't know when to stop.

"You're a fucking hypocrite, you know that?" I leaned closer, my mouth close to her ear. "You hate who I am, but you crave this, don't you? Giving up control, being at my mercy. Admit it."

Her eyes widened, then narrowed. She lifted a hand, as if to slap me, but I was faster. I caught her wrists and pinned them above her head, pressing them hard into the mattress.

"You know it's true," I pressed, relishing the way she struggled against my hold. "It's hard always being the composed one, isn't it? The responsible one. It's draining. Maybe that's why you're drawn to me. You love the thrill as much as I do, don't you?"

She stared at me, silent, her lips a tight line. 

"Prove me wrong, sweetheart. Call me a liar, and I'll show you just how wrong you are," I leaned in closer, my voice a harsh whisper against her lips. "We're the same, you and me. We feed off each other. Even if you hate to admit it, I fill that emptiness inside you same as you do for me."

"You arrogant piece of shit!" she spat, twisting and bucking against my grip. "You think you know everything, control everything!"

"Don't I?" My grip tightened, feeling her pulse throb against my fingers. "Seems I've got you pinned pretty damn well, wouldn't you say?"

"You know it's true. You love this. Makes you feel something your books, your fancy grades never could."

"Screw you, Satoru," she hissed, venom in her voice. "We're nothing alike."

"You really are a fool, for wanting to fix something so broken it'll cut you to shreds the moment you get close and then you cry afterwards—"

Her spit hit my face. I closed my eyes for a second, then a smile twisted across my lips. 

My future wife just spit in my face — what a good anecdote on our wedding day.

"That's my girl," I rasped, shoving her legs wider. "Tell me how much you hate me. Scream it."

"I fucking hate you Satoru, I hate you—"

Her words died on her tongue as I thrust forward, filling her completely. I closed my eyes, letting my head hang heavy for a second. 

My god, the things this woman's body could do to me. I could feel her body trembling beneath me, her heart racing as she arched her back.

How treacherous a body can be, huh?

"Hate you, Satoru," she managed to say before she closed her eyes, biting down her lip as I thrust deeper still. Her thighs spread further apart, inviting me closer, urging me onward. 

She's so damn beautiful.

I grinned, my hands still holding her wrists in place over her head. "I know you do, love. But you know what?" My lips were only a breath away from hers. "I hate you, too. I hate how you make me feel, how you expose every broken piece of me, how I crave you like I crave another fix."

Hell, I might just be addicted to this woman.

I pulled out fully, before thrusting back into her. Her head fell back, pressing into the mattress as a strangled moan escaping her lips.

She felt incredible.

Pulling back slowly, I watched her body react to the absence, her eyes flickering open to meet mine. Those pupils dilated with need, mirroring my own hunger for her. 

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not our fight. Not our problems. Not our insults that had left our lips moments before. Just us — two halves coming together in a perfect whole. 

I pushed back into her, deeper, harder.

With each thrust, I felt myself sinking deeper into her, losing myself in her. Fuck, if there was anything better than this — well, I hadn't found it yet.

This woman owned me — plain and simple.

It was madness, this pull towards her. 

Insane, perhaps.

But it was also undeniably real. So real that even though dawn threatened to break soon, stealing away whatever remnants of darkness remained, I couldn't help but chase after that high only she could provide.

Even knowing full well that when morning arrived, reality would crash down upon us, forcing us back onto opposite sides of the divide.

"Look what you've done to me, love. You're making a fool of me." I whispered against her lips without touching them.

Weren't together anymore after all.

Kissing would be too much.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath me. Her nails dug into my skin where my hands gripped her wrists. With each deep thrust, I watched her face contort with pleasure and pain, her features illuminated by fleeting streaks of moonlight seeping through the curtains.

I loved that look on her face.

I wondered if I could make that look even more pathetic.

I pulled out, dragging the tip of my length across her clit before pushing back in. She squirmed underneath me, arching her back. But I denied her, keeping my unhurried pace. I wanted to draw out this sweet torture for as long as possible.

Hours passed — or perhaps mere minutes. I couldn't tell anymore. All that mattered was this woman writhing beneath me.

Groaning in frustration, she attempted to break free from my grip. "Dammit, Satoru. If you won't finish what you started, then get off me!"

I smirked. "Why so eager, love. Can't handle the wait?" I leaned in to kiss down the side of her neck. She shivered beneath me, her breath hitching as my teeth grazed her skin. 

With my free hand I reached down, running my fingers down her quivering stomach, relishing in the shivers that coursed through her body. 

She glared up at me, her eyes narrowing dangerously. "Stop calling me 'love'. I don't belong to you, not anymore—" 

She gasped into my mouth when I found her clit. Slowly, deliberately, I began to circle it with my thumb, feeling her surrender to me. I plunged deeper, thrusting into her mercilessly.

Let her hate me all she wants. She can't deny the chemistry between us — a spark that refuses to fade, no matter how hard either of us tries.

She must have hated this — hated how she surrendered to me, even with all that anger. Made me wondered if I could rail her up even more.

"You think you're so much better than me?" I rasped. "So strong, so selfless, always putting others first? It's a lie, and you know it. You're just bored."

"You fucker!" Before I knew what was happening, she broke free of my grasp and had flipped us over so that she was now straddling my hips. 

Without warning, she reached forward, gripping my throat with surprising strength as she leaned down, her hair falling like a curtain around our faces. I couldn't help but smile.

"Don't project your bullshit on me," she seethed, her face inches from mine. 

Her words sent a chill down my spine, stirring up a fresh wave of desire within me. Damn, this woman was infuriating — and captivating in the worst way possible.

We glared at each other like enemies preparing for battle. 

"Aren't you a little tired? Pulling up that act all the time?" I choked out, feeling her fingers dig in further. "Deep down, you're just as bored as me, you're just too righteous to admit it."

"Shut up," she hissed, pressing harder, choking the words out of me.

This was madness. Destructive madness. But for this one desperate moment, I didn't care. It was exhilarating, addictive. Because love, our twisted, broken love, wasn't supposed to be pretty.

It was messy, chaotic, and borderline abusive. But sometimes all you need is a firm grip around the throat to remind you that you're alive.

"Harder, love," I gasped, a laugh bubbling up in my constricted throat. "Come on, make me feel your rage."

Slowly, deliberately, she began grinding her hips against mine, setting a maddening pace that left me reeling. Fuck, I think I love it even more when she hates me.

"Ahh, shit," I gasped, clutching at her thighs as she rode me mercilessly. "That's it."

Eyes squeezed shut, my head rolled back. Chills prickled my skin, possibly due to the cool breeze drifting in from the window. Or perhaps it was merely her.

She rode me with increased speed, and I could barely contain the overwhelming sensations coursing through my body. Every fiber of my being screamed for release. 

My knuckles on her thighs turned white from the force. "Oh, shit, you're going to kill me," I moaned between choked sounds that escaped my lips. 

My lips twisted into a smile again. "Admit it. You love the chaos as much as I do. The thrill, the way it makes you feel alive."

"You're wrong," she said, increasing her pace making my cock twitch inside her. "We're nothing alike."

"Keep telling yourself that," I replied, struggling to catch my breath, as she made me lose my mind. "But I know the truth—we're two sides of the same coin."

"You really believe that, don't you?"

"Why else would you be here, like this, with me?" I countered. "Face it, we're addicted to each other—the highs, the lows, the constant push and pull. It's exhilarating, isn't it?"

"You're the only addict here."

"Liar," I rasped.

Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She was close. Each contraction of her pushing me further towards a peak that I knew would soon shatter me.

But I wasn't ready yet. Not quite.

I shifted our positions, sitting upright before spinning us around so she was now beneath me on the mattress. I positioned myself behind her, forcing her down onto the mattress.

I slowly slid my hand along her spine as I pushed her further down, feeling her tremble beneath my touch, the softness of her skin beneath my fingertips. 

It was intoxicating to watch her submit to me.

"Fuck, you'll be the death of me."

Leaning down, I pressed my lips against the small of her back, feeling her shiver once more. My hand continued its descent, stopping just short of where she needed me.

"Satoru," my name fell from her lips.

Oh, how I loved it when she breathed my name like that. I couldn't resist her — could never resist her. I was at her mercy. Even now.

She arched her back, silently pleading for me to continue. I slid my hand between her legs. "God, you're so fucking wet," I murmured, slipped a finger inside her, then another. She was so tight, so warm. 

I couldn't wait to be inside her again.

She gasped, pushing back against me. "Don't stop."

Curving my fingers, I searched for that spot that I knew would drive her mad. When I found it, she cried out, her hips bucking against my hand. Her hands scrabbled at the sheets, grasping for purchase as I started to move inside her.

"Yes, fuck," she moaned, spreading her legs wider. "Right there."

Oh, love. I know you like that.

I smiled, relishing the fact that I knew her body better than herself. I knew every inch of her, every freckle, every scar, every sensitive spot that made her squirm. 

"More," she begged.

I happily obliged, adding a third finger and thrusting deeper. She was soaking wet, her juices coating my fingers as I fucked her with my hand. Her moans grew louder, more urgent. She was close, so close.

I increased the pace of my fingers, pumping them in and out of her as I used my thumb to apply pressure to her clit. 

However, as her moans reached a fever pitch, I withdrew my fingers, denying her release.

She gasped, glanced over her shoulder at me, her mouth open, but said nothing — probably out of breath. 

I brought my fingers to my mouth, savoring the taste of her. It was so uniquely her. I couldn't get enough.

Leaning in, I pressed my body against hers from behind, my hard length probed at her entrance. 

I leaned down over her, my hand snaking into her hair. I grabbed it tightly, forcing her head up to meet mine. "I love you, first-year," I murmured against her ear.

She trembled, but her defiance remained strong. "I hate you."

I sighed — always so fierce, makes me wonder what it takes to fuck that stubborn attitude out of her. 

"It's alright, I love you enough for both of us."

With that, I pushed her head down into the mattress. Her cry muffled by the sheets beneath her as I thrust into her once more, bottoming out inside her with a groan.

I began to move in and out of her. Faster now, harder until the headboard slammed against the wall. Her muscles clenched around me, drawing me deeper inside her. She clawed at the sheets beneath her, her moans muffled by the fabric.

As her cries grew louder, I quickly pushed her face further into the mattress. "Quiet, first year," I murmured as I angled myself to rub against her G-spot, making it harder for her to keep quiet. "Wouldn't want to disturb anyone in the middle of the night, would we?"

Neither of us spoke a word — not that she could but — perhaps because there was nothing left to say. Instead, we communicated solely through our actions, saying everything that needed to be said without opening our mouths.

I increased both the pace and pressure. Nearly causing her to fall forward hadn't I held her in place with one hand on her waist and one sill in her hair. Her breath hitched, her entire body tensed as she approached her breaking point.

Oh, how I loved feeling her tighten around me.

Bringing her closer to the edge was a thrill like no other. Watching her lose control, hearing her cries and moans, feeling her body tremble beneath me — it was intoxicating.

I could feel myself getting closer to the edge, my balls tightening as I approached my own release. 

Her cries grew louder, more urgent, until finally, she shattered around me, her orgasm triggering my own.

With a final thrust, I emptied myself inside her, filling her completely. Her contractions milked every last drop from me, her body still quivering around me. 

I stayed inside her, savoring the feeling. It might be the last time.

I was panting, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I tried to catch my breath. My cock was still twitching inside her. Reluctantly, I pulled out with a low moan.

I stayed behind her for a moment longer, admiring the curve of her waist, the sheen of sweat on her skin in the sliver of moonlight. 

Don't know when or if I'll ever see that again.

Time seemed to stand still, suspended indefinitely as we tried to find our breath again.

Then she turned her head. "You're a fucking idiot," she finally said.

"Tell me something I don't know."

She shifted to face me, her expression serious.  "Promise me something."

"Anything you want, love."

"Promise me, you won't kill yourself with your pills."

I swallowed hard. That's not what'll get me, I thought, as I felt a sharp pain lancing through my right side.

I moved closer, cupping her face with my hands that trembled slightly. For an insane moment, I wanted to kiss her, but I knew I couldn't — couldn't ever again. "I promise," I rasped.

The words heavy with a lie we both knew.

<- prev chapter | next chapter ->

author's note: wooooaaa, another insane!gojo chapter lol. this chapter really killed me, was crying, screaming, throwing up while writing.

i'm equally scared and excited to hear what you think about todays chapter, ngl. originally i didn't plan a smut scene in this chapter, but you know, somewhere down that line gojo just happened and here we are. 

also like, i think now both their's darkest secrets are now out — in the worst way possible. also because i keep getting messages regarding how much chapters are left of the story, idk i write form chapter to chapter. we're down somewhere the 60—70 % line with the story i guess, but we'll see. still more to uncover of gojo's past and all that.

also sorry for the people asking of for more fluff and happy moments, ehhh, there will be some in the future?? also i'm still sticking to the plan of a happy ending, so don't worry!! gojo fucked up big time and the next chapters will center about him trying to fight his fears and get shit together — let's see if he can do that. curious myself.

so thank you so so much for sicking by with the story. sending kisses to all of you lovely people seeing me messages, leaving likes, comments and reblog stuff. it really makes my heart happy everything i see a notification. love you all sm!! ♡

okay my last note, just so you know, i'm going on vocation soon, so the next chapter will be a bit delayed again, sorraaaayyy!! wishing you a great day or night and an awesome weekend ahead! ♡

🏷️ @sad-darksoul @aerithsthingss @mylovelessnightmare @bbyxxm @musababy @neuviloved @ykehqqy @hexrts-anatomy @fvsm4x @tw0fvced @heijihattorisgf @sadmonke @thatsopanu @sirencholia @sugurusdiscordmoderator @erwinslut @shervinss @certainlysyko @mechalily @purplehallow11 @kendall0111 @bloopsstuff @therealestpussyeater @louoi7 @whereflowerswenttodie @billiondollarworth @deluluforcarlos55 @starrynight-777 @vina21 @michelleeveline @boba-is-a-soup @cre8inghavoc @love-jelly @daimiyu @d0nk3y-k0ng @mo0nforme @smolbeanzzz @oneiricals @ynishalee @gojolvrr34 @nanasukii28 @ariiiii0938 @kelppsstuff @tojisdollx @drakenswifeyy @bakarinnie @vina21 @phoenix-eclipses @nanamis-baker @neptnszn (pls comment on the series masterlist to get tagged in the future!)

[axelsagewrites]

Where Am I?*Part Four

Pairing: modern!f!reader x (to be determined...) Ubbe, Ivar, Sigurd, Hviserks, Bjorn

Word count: 2146

Warnings: drinking, Sigurd making a cripple joke, drunk reader

Series Summary: After falling head first the reader wakes up face to face with a group of strangely dressed men who look eerily like the vikings she studies

Part one Part two Part three

Masterlist Here

Something your arrival seemed to have distracted from was the success of the latest raid. “You’ll love it,” Hvitserk told you over breakfast. He, you had soon noticed, was the only morning person of the bunch. Ivar looked even more homicidal while Sigurd was still too asleep to piss him off. Meanwhile Ubbe was still in bed, threatening to cut off whoever’s hand tried to wake him, “We pull out all the stops. Wines, mead, ale, -“

“Is anything not alcohol related?” you joked just as Bjorn walked in. You’d honestly expected him to have breakfast with his father, but Bjorn said nothing as he took a seat beside you. You knew he was tall but him sitting shoulder to shoulder with you made you realise just how not only tall, but wide he was. The man was built like a bear.

“Hello?” Hvitserk said, waving his hand in front of your eyes, “I swear none of you appreciate the morning,” he tutted.

“Die,” Ivar grunted, earning an agreement from Sigurd. You chuckled a little at seeing them finally on the same side.

Still, you shot Hvitserk an apologetic smile. “Sorry Hvitserk I just spaced out,”

“Spaced out?” He asked, even Bjorn looking down in confusion.

“Like got distracted?”

Hvitserk nodded in understanding, but Bjorn wasn’t satisfied, his head tilting even further in confusion. “Why do you say ‘like’ all the time? You always say like at the start of everything its strange,”

“I guess it’s like,” you said, pausing to chuckle at the accident though he didn’t laugh, “I don’t know it’s just how we talk where I’m from. Like how in every conversation someone threatens someone’s life here,” you said, finally earning a crack of a smile from him, “Where I’m from that would be the weird thing,”

“It’s not as if we mean it,” Hvitserk said.

“It’s brotherly love,” You turned to look at Ivar and Sigurd who both just kind of shrugs.

“It’s something all right,” Sigurd muttered. Ivar’s glare said enough on his behalf.

You ignored them both and turned back to Hvitserk with a laugh. After all they were brothers after all. It was all just talk. Surely. “So, if I go wake Ubbe up right now he won’t actually cut off my hand?” This time they all shared a concerned look. Okay maybe not.

“Take back up with you,” Ivar said. “Just encase,”

You sighed and rolled your eyes at the dramatics of all of them “Seriously? Right come on then,” you said, nodding your head at Ivar as you stood.

For a moment you actually saw a slight look of fear wash over his face, “But I’m still eating,” he tried to weasel his way out of it making Sigurd laugh. That was until you turned to him, hands on hip and his eyes suddenly dipped to the floor and the laughing stopped.

You threw your hands up, “He cannot be that bad!” you protested as you headed to Ubbe’s room.

As you headed for the door you heard someone’s chair scrape against the floor following you. You knocked on the door before quickly pushing it open, “Rise and shine sunshine- “

A loud groan came from the lump under the furs that was presumably the grumpy Ubbe everyone had warned you about. He quickly went to sit up and you jumped back when you saw the axe in his hand. Right back into what you soon realised was Bjorn’s chest.

Realization dawned over Ubbe’s face when he saw you, “Oh,” he said, dropping the axe onto the furs, “Sorry I didn’t realise it was you,” he mumbled, collapsing back into bed.

“Yeah, sorry about that,” you mumbled, stepping away from Bjorn and hoping he didn’t see the blush covering your cheeks from the previous closeness. Then they went even redder when Ubbe sat up in bed and you realised he had nothing on. “I’m just gonna,” you span around, trying to leave, before almost smacking right back into Bjorn’s chest. You almost gulped before looking up at him, “Sorry,” you mumbled, rushing out past him, not noticing the smirk on Bjorn’s face or the way Ubbe laughed at your antics.

-

Ivar had finished eating by the time you’d returned, and you very quickly insisted on him showing you the market like he’d promised last night. He almost jumped at the chance and debated flinging his knife into Sigurd’s chest when he insisted on joining you both. However, you weren’t out for long before Aslaug sent a thrall to fetch you.

Aslaug had arranged for you to receive another dress for tonight’s festivities since “our guests represent our honour,” and you weren’t going to turn down the clean clothes.

The boys had gone out to do some training leaving you to get ready. You debated doing some makeup, you did have a couple items in your bag after all. “What is that?” Aslaug asked as she and a woman you recognised as Helga walked into the room. You’d been sat at a table in the middle of the house to utilise the little light inside and hadn’t heard them walk in, “Its eyeliner,” you said, showing them the black on your eyes, “Like how you use charcoal on yours,”

“Can I watch?” Helga asked, excitement written on her face as she sat across from you, “What’s this?” she asked, picking up the liquid blush, “It’s so bright!”

“It’s blush,” you laughed, “It’s for your cheeks,”

Aslaug sat next to her, eyeing over the cosmetics, “Like berries?”

“Kind of?” you said, gently taking it out of Helga’s hand so you could put it on to show them,

“See?” you asked patting it in, “Same sort of thing but this lasts a bit longer,”

“Can we try some?” Helga asked and even Aslaug looked interested at the idea. For the next while you helped them apply some moisturiser and blush to ease them into it. you were honestly scared to show them your eyeshadow pallet considering how Helga reacted to a pink blush.

then it was your turn. Apparently, the hair problem was long overdue. Helga was gentle when she brushed but you winced as Aslaug took over the intricate braids. “Do all girls fuss where you’re from?”

By the time she was done however you had to admit it looked beautiful. “You almost look like one of us,” there was almost fondness in Aslaug smile.

Helga looked up with a large grin, “You’ll get used to the pain. You looked wonderful though,”

-

Walking into the bustling hall by Aslaug’s side was both comforting and terrifying. On one hand it meant no one would question you but on the other, everyone was staring. When the boys finally returned Hvitserk was the first to greet you and you happily accepted the ale he offered.

You were sat at a table with the five of them, Hvitserk and Ivar on either side of you, and Bjorn, Ubbe, and Sigurd across from you. However, something the group were quickly realising was their tolerance to ale was far higher than yours. “Do you not drink where you’re from?” Ubbe teased as your cheeks flushed from the alcohol.

“We do! I swear I’m not a lightweight. This stuffs just strong!” you laughed.

Apparently, the laugh was infectious as soon they were all giggly. All but Bjorn but for once there was a permanent smile on his face, “What’s a lightweight?” Bjorn asked.

“Someone who can’t hold their alcohol,” you told him, very matter of factly making them all laugh at your drunken confidence, “You lot wouldn’t last one second on a night out at my campus. I’m talking tequila shots, body shots, Jello shots,” you began to drunkenly list off as the boys tilted their heads in amused confusion.

“What’s a shot?” Hvitserk asked making you face palm.

“Oh, I have so much to teach you,”

-

Unfortunately, while the boys were great company and had adjusted well to you being in their groups your presence seemed to disrupt everyone else. It was Hvitserk who first noticed everyone staring at you, but you were too tipsy too care. However, as Ivar and Ubbe drank more both began to glare at the men whose eyes stayed too long.

Despite all the boys warning you about Ivar’s temper they all seemed to ignore Ubbe’s even when he insisted on you all leaving because a drunken Viking tried to hit on you. You however were happy enough to follow them all the edge of the lake and sit on the cold sand with a flask of ale being passed around.

As you were all walking down to the lake Hvitserk, and Sigurd were in a heated debate over which slave girl was hotter while Ubbe carried a giggling Ivar on his back. somehow, you’d ended up at the back of the pack, stumbling down the hill beside Bjorn.

“Woah,” he gasped, grabbing your waist before you could stumble and fall over a tree branch. “Steady,”

“Careful Bjorn,” you grinned up at him, holding onto the arm he offered you so you wouldn’t risk falling again, “Someone might think we’re friends,” you teased.

A smirk quickly showed on his face, a teasing light in his eyes, “Oh? Are we not friends already? I am wounded,”

“Friends don’t try kill their friends,” you pouted but you weren’t able to keep the charade up for long before grinning again like a Cheshire cat.

Bjorn just rolled his eyes with a smile however, “We weren’t friends then. We are now,”

“So, you won’t try kill me again?”

Another eye roll, “I won’t try kill you, no,” he said, shaking his head as he helped you to where the rest of the group had begun to sit.

“Pinky promise?” you asked, pulling out of his grip and extending his arm.

His eyes narrowed, head tilting, “What’s a pinkie promise?”

“Its where,” you said, stepping closer to grab his hand, “You lock pinkies,” you said wrapping yours around his, not noticing the smile on his face, “And promise something. And if you break it, I get to break your pinkie,”

“So, an oath?”

“An oath with a threat,”

“Of breaking a finger?”

“Pinkie specifically but yes,” you grinned, “So do you promise?”

“I promise,”

“Good,” you grinned, pulling your pinkie away from his grip before turning to join the group. You plopped down on the ground next to Ivar who was staring off into the sea, “Hi,” you grinned.

Ivar turned to you, laughing when he saw the wide grin on your cheeks, “Hello,” you could hear a slight drunken slur in his words. “Want some?” he asked, passing you, his ale.

You gladly accepted it, taking a drink of the alcohol you first hated but soon grew to love, “Thanks. You’re always so sweet to me,” you smiled before taking a drink, missing the way Ivar’s cheeks went red at your sweet words. Sigurd however didn’t want you to miss it.

“Aww look at the cripple,” he teased making Ivar scowl, “He’s blushing like a baby,”

You passed Ivar his drink back, noticing how tense his jaw was and quickly checking to see how close he was to his axe. After all you didn’t need to be here when the fall out happened, “Why do you care so much Sigurd?” you asked, rolling your eyes.

Everyone’s eyes seemingly went wide, shocked that your bubbly attitude had so quickly dropped. “you don’t get it,” he tried to brush off, “you’re not from here,”

“Then explain it to me,” you said, sitting up straight, “Explain what’s so funny about Ivar’s legs. Ill wait,”

“Well its just,” he tried to stutter earning a snigger from Hvitserk, “I don’t know it just is. Why do you care?”

You were honestly a bit hurt by that, “because he’s, my friend?” you said it like a question because the answer seemed so obvious.

“Okay well I’m sorry,” Sigurd shrugged, his eyes focused on the ground.

Luckily the night quickly moved on from the brief ugly confrontation however Ivar couldn’t get the reaction out of his mind. He was so used to fighting his own battles that he never even expected someone else to back him up, let alone speak up before him. Despite his bruised ego Sigurd thankfully stayed civil for the rest of the night.

A few hours passed before you all decided to walk home. You were in a world of your own at this point, your eyes fixed on how bright the night sky was with stars with no city skyline or factory gases to ruin your view. You didn’t even notice the stares from the boys or hear Hvitserk and Ubbe talk about how you stood up to Sigurd. For the first time this week you didn’t have a care in the world.

Part five

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[megalomaniacz]

★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ CONSUME - [E. W]

a little treat! reminds me of some of my older/toxic stuff kinda! thought i’d post a lil something before kinktober hits! consume by chase atlantic is what the title is based off of! also heavily inspired by @eightstarr i’m obsessed with all their works! (tried to post this like 70 times this is the second version of it so please be gentle)

“swallow all of it, fuck.” tears were running down ellie’s face. actual tears of pleasure. she’d been grinding her teeth so much she was sure she’d sawed them down an inch. your tongue, lapping at her cunt at an unforgiving pace, was pushing her over the edge. she gripped a chunk of your hair ordering you not to miss a drop of her.

and you happily swallowed every bit. looking up at her with hungry eyes. this was your way of proving you could be good to each other. by showing one another how good giving in could feel. how much euphoria you could get from one touch. one kiss. all of it leading to a night full of thigh clenching memories.

one being the way she’d shook when she finished. the poor thing nearly lost her balance, causing her to push her cunt further into your face. the action overstimulated her in the moment, making her shake even more. her eyes finding themselves gazing into yours while she bit her lip.

you lift yourself up to give her a break, holding her steady while you place a sweet kiss on her lips. she smiles, tasting herself on your tongue. “damn, you’re so good to me.” you nod at her sentiment. “i think it’s time i return the favor, yeah?”

ellie, only in her bra, had pulled you onto her lap for a deepened kiss. her hands grabbing at your waist while her thigh pushed up into your core. all the friction making you a weak and moaning mess on her mouth. pleads falling from your lips that caused her to chuckle to herself. since she had, as she puts it, “barely touched you and you’re already begging for more.”

ellie loved when you begged. she loved it even more when she felt just how wet you’d get from her asking you to. “cmon pretty girl, tell me what it is you want me to do?” never failed to turn you into a mess for her. what made it worse was the way she’d whisper these things into your ear. her lips kissing up your neck and your jawbone until she reaches your earlobe. a sly smile and a laugh threatening to escape her as she watched you tense up from the contact.

“i wanna hear you ask for it first, and then i wanna hear you beg for it.”

but ofcourse, something got in the way. ellie didn’t let that stop her though, promptly calling you at 10:00pm exactly. wearing nothing but a wife pleaser and a pair of underwear that was ruined the second you spoke. “hey ellie.”

“fuck, i’ll never get tired of hearing your voice.” she breathes.

“are you touching yourself right now?” you ask, noting her labored breathing and delayed response. she sighs on the other end.

“no, but i will if you want me to.”

“what happened tonight? i thought you were coming over.” you were sat in your own bed, conveniently wearing ellie’s shirt and a pair of boxers she’d left. “change your mind?”

“never. some shit got in the way. something stupid, don’t worry about it. tell me about your day.”

you laugh softly. “was that what you planned on talking about when you came over?”

“i didn’t plan to do much talking at all, actually. but we’re over the phone and that’s how you have a conversation. call and response.”

you roll your eyes. “oh i see. it was decent. tiring. a little stressful.” you respond.

she hums. “i know a good way to make all that stress go away.”

“you gonna be a good girl for me and let me hear you make those pretty noises?” was all she had to ask and you’d found yourself with your fingers in your cunt. ellie adored the sound of them slipping in and out. taking the opportunity to tease. “i can hear how fucking wet you are.”

your other hand had found its way to your clit. she was coaching you with her lip tucked in between her teeth. face hot from how flustered you were making her. “slow circles baby. spread your wetness around. make it sloppy. make a mess.”

your labored breathes, quickening pace, and overall inability to respond had let her know that her few words of encouragement were driving you over the edge. she put up that she was a shy loser, but behind closed doors, she had hidden confidence.

“you gonna come for me? is that it?” she asks. you, in a pleasure filled daze, forget that she isn’t there and nod your head. a sigh leaves her lips as her question is met with silence. her hand had found its way onto her very own cunt, rubbing sloppy circles at the sound of your voice.

“yes— yes i’m, fuck.” you finally spit out. she actually laughs. out loud. finding it humorous that she didn’t have to be there to make you a mess for her. she was sure she didn’t have to be on the other end of a phone either. confident in her thought that you’d masturbated to the thought of her all by yourself.

you hold back tears as you feel yourself rivaling on the edge. pleads escaping your lips while ellie begins to come undone herself. “hold it in baby, i wanna come with you.”

you do, fighting the urge to fully let yourself go. pools of your slick staining underneath you. your hands tiring from how long you’d been working yourself up. her name on the tip of your tongue.

you wondered what she’d do when she found out you did this wearing her shirt.

[charliemwrites]

It’s been a minute - the last two weeks have been mind bogglingly stupid. But hopefully things are settling now? Idk anyway - consider this something to tide yall over until I can put out the Price/Reader/Simon fic

I am thinking about that threshold of dating when you get past all the prettiness. Like, when being human just becomes part of the relationship. It stops being carefully picked outfits, styled hair, nice perfume/cologne, careful bites of food.

I’m talking about the intimacy of stupid, stupid shit. I’m talking about the first time Krueger calls your name and you reply in a little gremlin voice “wHaT”.

I’m talking about Simon bringing home a treat for you and you do a weird little run, arms swinging and knees coming up too high, to get it from him.

Kyle staring in a mix of horror and fond exasperation as you quote, word for word and perfect intonation, your favorite bit from a YouTube video or tv show or comedy special.

Baffling Nikto by having a stupid ongoing bit that he doesn’t understand and you refuse to explain. Something like, “and I’m gonna eat your captain, of course”. What does that mean? You’re going to eat him?? “Yeah, with salt and butter. Nom nom.”

You pull that bit where you do shitty cosplays of characters. Johnny nearly pissed himself when you wandered into the kitchen covered in green paint with construction paper ears, mumbling in a little old man voice “consume cheez-its, I must, or rip Kenobi a new one, I will.”

Dancing badly, like not even cute badly, just BADLY in the kitchen or while you’re cleaning. It looks almost like you’re having a seizure really. Price is about two seconds from banning that “shake it” song by neon trees

Konig fears “Squirrel Girl” - his pretty little girlfriend disappears to be replaced with this creature that mutters about nesting and acorns and hibernating for winter.

Keegan just about died of embarrassment the first time you pretended his dick was microphone and leaned in close, saying “is this thing on? What’s the deal with airplane food?”

On that note - Gromsko didn’t realize having a pretty little stay at home wife like a traditional marriage meant his dick becomes fair game. She’s grabbin’ him like a handful of candies. When he asks why she points and says “that’s mine by law” and puts a bottle cap on it. “He’s got a hat now”. You make fantastic pies but you also keep asking to hold it while he pees.

You fuss at Velikan to hold still so you can preen in the visor of his helmet. You also put stickers on it and purposefully guilt trip him if he tries to remove it.

Oh and stealing clothes? Oh sure a t-shirt is hot. But their workout shorts? Their underwear or ugly military socks? Sooooo much better than the cute silk set you bought when you first started dating - for you, anyway.

I’m just so here for the weird intimacy of people moving past the aesthetic honeymoon phase of their relationship. Especially when it’s one of the guys who def hasn’t been in a comfortable long term relationship before (like konig or simon).

Same vibes as that time Robert Pattinson invited his stalker out to dinner and she lost interest because he simultaneously so weird but so boring. Not cute weird shit, just weird shit that you would never do in front of anyone else. Stupid, ugly faces and funky voices/impressions and cursed walking/running around.

[princessmaybank]

Wet Dream

Pairings: Bsf!JJ x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Talking in sleep, Perv!JJ, somno (?), non-con oral (f & m receiving), talk about p in v, kissing, hickies daddy kink, etc

Summary: You were having a wet dream in front of JJ.

Authors Note: I hope you like this one!

Y/N was laying on the couch, peacefully sleeping while I played on my phone, sitting in the chair across from her. Everyone else had gone to bed already or went home. Y/N and I were spending the night but she was supposed to sleep in the bed.

"Jayj..." She must be awake now. "What's up?" I never looked up from my phone, I waited for a response but it never happened. I glanced at her and saw that her eyes were still shut. She must have just gone back to sleep.

"Mmm Jayj..." I looked back over to her, but nothing. I'm assuming I'm just hearing things, especially because the room was silent for another 10 minutes.

"Mm yeah right there..." My cheeks flushed. I didn't know what to do, I don't think she remembers that I'm here. When I moved my eyes back to her body, she was still sleeping. "Yesss, jus-just like that." Was she having a wet dream..?

Fuck this is the hottest thing I've seen in a long time. But she is my best friend I can't act upon this. "Mmm" She was moaning and making some beautiful sounds. "Jayj, stop teasing.." My heart burst and my dick sprung up. She was having a wet dream, and I was in it.

My hand slowly met my dick through my shorts. I couldn't help but palm at myself while I watched her face and listened to every word she said. "your tongue is cold..." She moaned. It's crazy how well she's forming these little thoughts, but I'm so glad she's able to. I stroked myself slowly through my pants and bit my lip.

At that moment I had a beautiful idea. Was it wrong? Yes. Did I care? Not really. I walked over to her spot on the couch and put my hand on her thigh, underneath the blanket. I rubbed up and down gently. Luckily I've been around Y/N before when she sleeps. She can be a very heavy sleeper. I'm praying that's how she is today.

I flipped the blanket off her legs so it would sit on her torso. My hand went to her pajama shorts and moved them to the side, that's when I realized, she wasn't wearing panties. That's even better.

I needed to see if she was going to wake up or not so I dipped my head between her legs and gave her a small kitten lick. "Mmmm" Her moan scared me but she's still asleep, so I think I'll be okay to continue. Who am I kidding? I would've continued regardless.

My head found its way between her legs again. I started slowly licking stripes up her cunt. After a few good licks, I stopped on her clit. My lips wrapped around the sensitive bud and I sucked on it.

A gasp escaped from her lips but her eyes were still closed. It wasn't until she put her hand in my hair and started pulling, that I realized she was awake. "Fuck yes-don't stop- please..." She dragged out. It was my mission to make her cum now. My middle and ring fingers found their way into her hole. "oh fuck" She almost yelled before I put some fingers from my other hand in her mouth to shush her. "Gotta be quiet *lick* don't wanna get caught Y/N/N" I realized just exactly what I was doing when I said her nickname, but I couldn't stop now.

I tried my best to keep her quiet while pushing my fingers in and out of her noisy ass pussy. "Fuck Jayj- I think I'm gonna cum-" She said and I couldn't be happier. I stuck my tongue in her hole and used the fingers that were in there, to rub her clit in fast circles.

She was wiggling and made little shrieking sounds, so I knew she was close. I fucked her with my tongue a little faster until I felt her warm liquid spill onto it. "oh jay...." she moaned as her hand tugged at my golden locks.

I kissed up and down the inside of her thighs. Once she came down from her high, she came back to reality and gasped. She shot up, fixed her shorts and hid her body under her blanket. Y/N was all balled up in the corner of the couch just staring at me. "What? Do I have something on my face?" I wiped the side of my mouth with my thumb, clearly being a smartass.

I dodged the pillow that was thrown at my head and let out a giggle. "That's not very nice to do, especially after I just made you cum." Her cheeks turned red. "What were you doing?!" She nearly screamed. "Shhh, don't yell, we don't wanna wake up JB and Sarah." I shushed her. "Why did you do that JJ?" She questioned quietly this time. "You were begging for it!" I said and quickly realized when I saw her face that what I said came out bad. "No no no! Not like that! You were legitimately begging me. I heard you moaning my name, and you looked so pretty...I-Im sorry.." My hands flew to my face, I felt like such an asshole.

The next thing I knew I felt someone tugging at my shorts. A pair of hands moved mine away from my eyes and made me pull down my cargo shorts. "What are you doing?" I asked almost like she did earlier. "I can't be the only one to cum Jayj. Since you already made this a thing, I'm gonna at least finish you off so we are even instead of us never talking to each other again."

"You think we'd never talk to each oth-" She cut me off by wrapping her lips around my tip and slowly swirling her tongue around it. "ohhh fuck.." I rested my hand on her head and I tilted mine back and bit my lip. I lightly pushed my hand down to make her start bobbing up and down. "Mmm faster baby.." I didn't care about the nickname right now, I'm sure I'll call her some other things soon. When I asked her to speed up she did, and fuck it felt amazing. "Just like that- fuck just like that..." Y/N was going even faster, and apparently she didn't care about making too much noise...or a mess. There was so much spit on my dick I couldn't fucking think straight. This was the best head I've ever received and I haven't even cum yet. Well, I was about to. She reached down with one hand and played with my balls while the other was stroking some of my length. Most of it was in her mouth but when she needed a moment to breathe her hand had no problem taking over. "I'm almost there, fuck don't stop." My head fell back again.

"Cum for me daddy.." She said which caused me to whip my head up as I came in her mouth. It caught me so off guard, but it did help me cum. I watched as she swallowed my load. My best friend just sucked my dick and swallowed my cum...what the fuck is happening. "Feel better Jay?" She asked innocently while retrieving some toilet paper from the bathroom to clean me up. "So much better."

About 30 minutes later we were cuddling on the couch, setting up a movie. I sat up and she straddled my lap. "I think we need to talk." She said putting her arms around my neck. "I couldn't agree more." I smiled back, placing my hands on her ass. "But that's for tomorrow, let's have fun tonight." Her lips met mine. We moaned into each other's mouths as she grinded her hips downwards onto my dick. "Someone's not satisfied with my impressive pussy eating skills?" I giggled. "It was very impressive from what I was awake for, and you'll have another chance to impress me with that tongue, but I wanna see what that dick is capable of..." My eyes widened, not only did she say I would have another chance, but she also wanted me to dick her down. FUCK YEAH!

"Just gonna sit there with those googly eyes, or are you gonna take me to the bedroom and show me what you're made of bestie?" She taunted.

I picked her up and entangled our tongues once again before walking us to the bedroom.

After I closed the door we heard a loud "THANK YOU" come from John B and Sarah.

"I guess we were a little loud baby." I giggled when I set her down on the bed and crawled between her legs. "Sorryyyy" "Never said it was a bad thing baby..next time we are home alone, I promise to make you scream for me." I smirked and started attacking her neck, leaving only hickies behind.

"You're my bestest best friend ever." She moaned out as I stuck my dick in her. "Stop friend-zoning me, especially while I'm fucking you." I pushed in harder waiting for her to respond. "Fine. Fuck me harder! Fuck me until my legs shake Jayj! I'm all yours daddy!" I stopped what I was doing because she called me that name again. "And that's why I don't call you that! Fuck me Jayj!" She teased. "Call me daddy again..it's fuckin hot." I said as I slapped her ass. "Stick your huge fucking cock in me and fuck the shit out of me...daddy.."

I did as she asked. By the end of the night we were tired, sweaty, and definitely more than just besties.

[seokmn]

THE DRUMMER

“cmon, yn, just this time!” your best friend whines, “we’re gonna have fun, i swear!”

“seokmin, i told you a million times, i hate concerts! im not going” you say and watch your best friend pouts, already knowing what’s about to come: his endless sulking. “…fine! im going to the concert with you”

“youre the best!” he immediately smiles brightly and hugs you, “now lets go! we cant be late!”

arriving at the place, you already regret going, theres some many people talking and drinking, some of them already tipsy. you sigh and follow seokmin who’s walking towards the stage, wanting to get a clear vision of the concert when it starts.

the band finally appears and the vocalist introduces themselves, The Volunteers, before they start to play and sing. not gonna lie, the song is good and the vocalist has a pretty voice, but youre paying that much attention on that, your eyes are fixed on the drummer.

its like youre hypnotized by the way his blonde hair falls on his face while he plays and the way he smirks when he glances at you, like he noticed youre staring at him. youre mentally cursing yourself and trying to stop looking at him, but it seems like your eyes dont want to listen to you.

this keeps going until the end of the concert, your eyes leaving his sight only when he goes backstage. “so, what did you think? they’re so good, arent they?!” seokmin asks you all excited.

“yeah, they’re good… who is the drummer? do you his name?”

“the drummer? not sure, i think it starts with a j, jisung? juyeon?”

“jeonghan,” the person behind you says, you turn around and, to your surprise, its the drummer “its jeonghan. yoon jeonghan” he smiles while looking at you.

“bro, youre such a great drummer! i love your band and the concert was amazing!” seokmin says, but jeonghan only nods with a smile on his face before looking back at you “what about you? did you like the concert?”

your best friend gets the clue and start to walk away from you two, you look at jeonghan and nod “yeah.. it was good”

“good? only good? you seemed like you were enjoying the concert a little bit too much.. or should i say, enjoying the view a little too much?” he smirked.

“oh.. so you noticed, huh?” you chuckle, mentally wanting to hide yourself because of the feeling of embarrassment but trying to keep it together.

“how could i not notice? my first fan, which happens to be beautiful” he smiles proudly when he sees you blushing. “well, now you know my name, but i dont know yours”

“ah, its yn” you smile a bit shyly, trying your best to not look too shy around him.

“yn… your name is as beautiful as you. but i have to say, i want to know one more thing about you”

“what is it that you wanna know?”

“your number”

[guttednights]

your bar.

You've worked in the same bar for the past 3 years. It's fairly common for military men to come in and get drinks together. It's always soap, gaz, price, and the one in a mask.

One night you finally speak to the guy in the skull mask. "your name is?" as he looks at you, his cold eyes lighten.

"ghost," he said gruffly when soap elbowed him, he shot soap a glare and sighed making eye contact with you. "Simon. simon Riley." he gruffs.

you can't help but smile. "well then Simon Riley. want your usual?"

"Please," he says coldly

you and your friend spent the rest of the night talking about simon. "god i dont know what it is about him but." "jeez.."

"oh ew! shut up" your friend replies walking to the other side of the bar

you giggle "ah cmon, its not as nasty as you and your thing for that old one.

she giggles. "price is hot because hes a gentle man. simon just looks like he could hurt anyone."

"thats what i like" "feels like hed go to jail for me"

She rolls her eyes "okay mrs delusional."

the next few days some tension between you and simon grew. he cant keep his eyes off you. your literal eyecandy to him. and you notice.

"sarah he keeps staring" you say entering the back to "refill something"

she squeals. "girl hes so into you!"

you roll your eyes, "oh whatever."

Later that night soap walks up to the bar,

"hey y/n, you know my big friend Simon? ya he wants ye number"

your heart practically stops beating. "uh.. yeah sure here" You quickly write it on a napkin and hand it to him. you watch as soap runs away like a schoolgirl giggling to Simon as he hands it to him.

the whole rest of the night you were shocked. The big huffy man you think is hot wanted your number?

around 2 am you jolt awake as your phone buzzes. you grab your phone, its him.

"hey gorgeous its simon, or "big masked man"

"Hi simon" god you cant believe this is happening is this real?

"you should be asleep. what you doing up?"

ur heart flutters, (GOING FERAL LIKE YES PLS BOSS ME AROUND) "couldnt sleep"

"any reason why?"

(yes Simon ur the reason why) "nope no praticular reason why, just one of those nights."

"alright. want to get coffee tomorrow?"

"coffee?!" you think to yourself "Omg it's happening.."

"id love to get coffee"

"great. ill see you at happy cafs tomorrow at 9 am."

"see you there"

your freaking out literally, the man of your literal dreams is asking to go out on a coffee date?! Is it a date..?

"is this considered a date?" you text him a few minutes later

"yes, sweetheart. it's considered a date lol"

you throw your phone across the room screaming and kicking your feet. you can't sleep the rest of the night. too busy thinking about what to wear. finally at 6 am you give up and hit the shower, then walk to your closet. "god do I wear a dress? jeans hoodie?" finally you decide on a long-sleeved black dress, perfect for winter. you straighten your hair, do your makeup, and hype yourself up.

8:55 and you're a minute away from the cafe when u see him pull up. your heart drops. you're so excited yet so nervous, u practically black out until you bump into him.

"op, watch out there" he chuckles, "looking at your feet while you walk sweetheart or?"

you chuckle, "Sorry lost in my thoughts." sweetheart?! You can't help but blush as he puts his hand on the lower part of your back and directs you inside. you both sit down at a booth and a waitress comes over. you both order and wait.

you can't help but stare at him, even tho you haven't seen his face his eyes just capture you.

"I'm not gonna lie, sweetheart,. I can't keep my eyes off you at the bar,"

"might as well claim ye before you are no longer available" he smirks as you blush and look away

you spend the next 3 hours just talking getting to know him. And before you know it, (in a few weeks of course) you are dating, officially his. the man of your dreams is officially yours.

side notes: i dont know if i like this tbh. it feels really long and i almost lost what else to say. if u want a part 2 (MAYBE SMUTTY VERS. i can do it lmk!!!)