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cameronspecial · 2 months

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I saw you were looking for some angst ideas lmao

So rafe and reader are together. Loves her more than life but his addiction gets in the way of that. One night they have a fuming argument and she doesn’t talk to him for a few days. He then makes a plan for them to talk about it somewhere private at nighttime, but when she shows up he’s not there. She waits for him for a while then she gets attacked by the rafes dealers because he owes them money and she was the next bet. Rafe finds her and he’s freaking out but she won’t let him near her and she blames him. You can choose how this ending goes or if you even want to write this but this has been on my mind

You Deserve Better

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Drug Use, Swearing, Stabbing, Blood, and Death

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 2.1K

Masterlist

The centre of Rafe’s life wasn’t always the white powder that tumbled around the little Ziploc bag that lined his pockets. His centre is supposed to snort or wheeze a little whenever she laughs, refusing to use her inhaler because she doesn’t want to embarrass him. It will stay up past her bedtime because she is in a flow with her work. His sun crosses her eyeballs whenever he presses a kiss on her nose because she knows it would make him chuckle. Y/N Y/L/N used to be his rock and now, all because of an accident, she isn’t anymore. That is something not a lot of people know. They assume his addiction started because he was a bored rich kid who had the money to spare. However, in reality, it began with a torn ACL. One wrong shift of his leg and his football career was over. At first, the oxycodone was only to manage the pain from the ACL surgery. He had the hope that he could recover the way he needed to get back on the field, but then the news came that he wasn’t progressing the way his doctor wanted… That was when the problem started, suddenly the drug he was taking to help ease his physical pain became the one to take away his mental pain too. The pain of not being able to play football. The pain of missing out. The pain of not knowing where his life was going.

Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was by his side the whole time, except a person can’t be everything to someone else and he needed a therapist. He just wasn’t ready to admit that. It was only when he stopped being prescribed oxycodone that he turned to cocaine to fill the mental hole the prescription used to be for.

———

Rafe’s blown pupils are hidden by his eyelids as he lies back on the couch. Y/N is still out with her friends, so he isn’t sleeping. Not when she is not at home. The front door opening and closing makes him jerk forward. His eyelids are just a sliver because the light from the ceiling is too bright for him. Her footsteps approach the living room and the large sigh she lets out makes her arrival known. “You didn’t do the dishes,” she states, her hand resting on her jut-out hip. “And the hole in the hallway is still there.” Yesterday, Rafe, in a high state, accidentally made a hole in the wall when trying to put up a picture frame for her. He promised her before she left for work this morning that he would get what he needed to fix it this morning and in the afternoon, he would fix it. However, before he could get himself to the store, he saw a post from one of his old football teammates, who went pro and he spiralled.

He doesn’t mean to roll his eyes, yet it happens and this causes her to let out another huff. “I didn’t get a chance to go to the store,” he grumbles like he didn’t care. He really did though. He wanted to be able to do something that simple for the girl who meant everything to him, except his mind seemed to disagree with his heart. It is easier to pretend it doesn’t bother him. Her eyes narrow in on the residue of powder on their coffee table, “Let me guess, you got your nose caught up in some business. Rafe, you promised me you wouldn’t do that shit at home.” He can’t keep looking at the way tears start to appear because he knows how worried she gets when he does drugs, always scared he might overdose. He looks anywhere but at her. “Don’t get on my ass about this again Y/N. You don’t know what I am dealing with,” he argues.

“I don’t and that’s the problem. You need to talk to someone about how you are feeling because you are going to put yourself in an early grave if you keep doing what you are doing now.”

“Seriously, we are going to argue about this again because I didn’t do the dishes or fix a little hole in the wall.”

“No, we are going to argue about it because you aren’t the man I fell in love with anymore and I don’t think if I can do this anymore. I want to be by your side to help you get better but if you don’t want to, then I don’t know if I can be here forever.”

Her words hit his ears at the same intensity as they would if he were sitting next to an airplane engine. They had arguments about his sobriety so many times before, yet those fights always had the underlying understanding that she would be there to help him. She never once mentioned the possibility of her leaving him because she truly did want to help him find his sobriety. His mouth falls open to talk. No words come out. How can he possibly swear that he wants to get better when he isn’t at the self-realization point in his journey? She takes the silence as an admittance that getting clean isn’t on his mind. “I need some time apart. I’m going to sleep at Deliah’s place tonight,” she informs, turning to leave. He doesn’t stop her; he wants to give her the space she needs in hopes that she realizes she can hold on for a little bit longer. The only word he can respond with is “Okay”, right before she closes the door behind her.

———

She hasn’t answered any of his texts and calls. Her night of taking some space turned into a week and it is driving him crazy. Her non-existence return may have to do with his unwillingness to agree to go to a therapist. After the thousandth attempt at calling her, she finally answers the call. “Normally, when a person doesn’t pick up the call, it means they don’t want to talk to you.” He lets out an internal sigh, “I know, I just need to talk to you. Please, can we meet at our spot, Sunshine?” She could never resist the usage of his nickname for her. “Okay, meet me there in an hour,” she agrees. The call drops right after her response and he gives himself a small smile. Not only does he get to see her again, he gets to try to get her back.

———

By the time she realizes she is being followed, she is alone under the bleachers, where she and Rafe used to spend their time in high school. It was where they found themselves when they didn’t feel like going to class or they needed to get away from the chaos after his team won a game. It was the place she fell in love with him in because even before they were dating when they were just friends, it was their spot. She spins around at the sound of grass being pressed down by a set of feet, ready to scold him for being late. It isn’t Rafe as she expected; instead, an average-height man with a dangerous air that scares her. The gleam behind his eyes tells her the bald man is up to no good, which is confirmed when he pulls out the hunting knife from his hoodie pocket. She steps back in an attempt to get away from him, but her back hits against a metal beam. The man rushes toward her and presses the sharp edge against the soft skin of her neck. “Your boy owes me money and since he is taking too long to get it back to me, I thought I would hold onto something precious to him until I get what I want,” the man explains with a wicked grin. She refuses to show him fear and looks him dead in the eyes, “Rafe’s dealer is Barry so I have no idea what you are talking about.” “He stopped going to Barry because Barry started getting on his case about how much he is using,” the male growled, not enjoying the bite to her bark. She chuckles like a maniac, “When Rafe comes, he is going to beat your ass.” “Shut up, Bitch.” Angered by his words, her knees find their target between his legs.

He lets out a howl and doubles over in pain. She uses this as her opportunity to attempt an escape, trying to run past him. Unfortunately, he reaches out to stop her and this results in the blade driving into her abdomen. A gasp passes her lips, causing the dealer to look in her direction. “Shit.” His eyes bloom open and immediately begins to pull it out. “No. Don’t pu-,” she warns, except it is too late. The weapon is already out and he is running toward the exit. She hunches forward and stumbles back against the beam, pressing her hand to her stomach to keep from bleeding out, feeling as though she has been punched. Calling 911 seems to be the logical answer; however, when she goes for her phone, she finds it broken on the floor. She thinks about going to her car and is stopped by the feeling of even more blood gushing out of the wound as she tries to push off the beam. It doesn’t hurt as much as she thought it would.

“Sunshine,” rings through her ears. Her dizziness makes it difficult to focus on the speaker, yet she knows who it is based on the nickname. She slides down the beam because her legs lose all their strength. Rafe rushes to her side and kneels beside her. “Shit, Sunshine. It’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. I’m going to call the police. They are going to fix everything,” his voice breaks as his hand joins hers to stop the flow of his blood. She can hear him relaying the information to the dispatcher, but her body is telling her something Rafe isn’t going to be ready to hear. He places his phone on the floor so both of his hands can press on her abdomen. “They’re coming, Sunshine, just hold on. I promise. I’ll be here the whole time.” Her handshakes as she raises to his cheek, staining it with her blood. Her tears water at the edge of her bottom eyelid, “I don’t think I’m going to make it.” His head shakes vigorously. “Don’t say tha-.” She cuts him off, “Can you please just listen to me?” He nods to let her continue. “It was your dealer. I’m not telling you this to make you feel bad. Just to make sure he gets arrested. But I need you to know that you are more than just your addiction and football. I know you don’t think so, but you are and if you just realize that, then you will see the man that I fell in love with.” “I don’t deserve that though. Look at all the shit I put you through. You deserve more than a druggie as a boyfriend,” he cries, holding her hand against his skin.

She smiles up at him, “You deserve more too. You deserve to be truly happy. You deserve to try to find a new purpose in life. I want that for you.” “How can I find all of that if you are gone?” he questions. Her breathing begins to become laboured, “You’ll find yourself and once you grieve, you’ll find someone who can help heal your broken heart. That’s how.”

“I don’t want anyone else. I just want you. Please, don’t go. Will you please stay if I promise to get sober?”

“I will be with you every step of the way.”

The words tear his heart in two. He knows what it means. She truly doesn’t think she is coming out of this alive. “I want you to see me get better though. Please. Just hang on a little longer.” His tears cloud his vision. When he doesn’t hear a response, he wipes his eyes to get a closer look at her. The world goes dark at the sight of her glassy eyes only reflecting back his face with no recognition or life behind them. The rise and fall of her chest have stopped. The universe decides to answer his calls for help at a cruel moment as he hears the siren finally approach. There is no use in their hurry if the person who needs saving is the one to do it because Rafe isn’t going to let her last words die with her. He is going to get better, not only for her but for him too. He deserves more than a life of chasing his pain away with drugs and he is determined to achieve that.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @thepatriarchykeychain @drewsmusee @starkowswife @maybankslover @forstarkey @loving-and-dreaming @magicalyoura

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #outer banks #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks imagine #outer banks x reader #rafe #rafe outer banks #rafe x reader #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe x you #rafe cameron outer banks #outerbanks #obx #obx fic #obx fanfic #obx imagine

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corollaservant · 2 months

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JJK MEN AS HOB SONGS ☆18+☆

Gojo / High for this: He is the type of man who would want/pressure you into getting high with him. You didn't know him well enough to engage in sexual intercourse sober but he wouldn't push it..much—it would be (relatively) consensual. He’d find you at a party, offer you a glass of whatever alcohol and drugs were mixed in it and you’d take it, knowing fully well you..didn’t know anything. You wouldn't care at the moment (girls just wanna have fun, right?) the liquor down your throat and his breath on you, as he’d sway your hips, he could only think of you under him. The drugs wouldn’t kick in until hours later, when he’d remove your clothes in a dark room and kiss all over your body, reassuring you to not be scared—he got this ("I'm right here, baby shh"). He does really like you though, he’d never let anything bad happen to you and he’d even stay during your comedown— it's just that drugs suit you so much, you seem so free, with your uncalculated movements and your roaming small hands on his body—it drives him insane. You’d never do this sober but he takes pride in being the only one you trust enough with unknown substances—he’d prove your faith in him the next day.

Geto / What you need: This song suits him the best: slow, seductive, alluring. He knows you had a silly little crush on his best friend and how naive you are so he'd always protect you—you saw him as a best friend really yet he couldn’t wait to be buried inside you someday, patient in his efforts and reserved. On the weekend you hit a club together, he brought drugs, he had the best plug in town and everyone knew it as he offered you your first pill. You hadn’t done drugs before but it was him, he’d seen you at your best and worst and always took care of you. He watched you pop a pill and dance with your high heels clicking on the dancefloor, dizzy and flustered. He brought you home, only to be inside you shortly after, kissing your panting mouth and feeling your wetness around his cock ("Does he touch you here like this baby, hm?").His best friend? You’d forget him by tomorrow.

Nanami / The Party and the After Party: High with him is an out-of-this-world experience. He knows you're confident, knows exactly what you want and gives it to you. You’d be chilling in his hotel room for the night, popping different pills and he’d watch you give him the ride of his life. Phone calls interrupting, he was a busy man after all—even in the late hours, but he’d shut it off, he didn’t give a fuck who called him, you’d giggle seeing it was his mom. He has other women to satisfy his temporary, carnal needs but you are just different; your head game is the best, especially when high, you’d put your heart and soul to it, his liddle Rudolph, as he jokingly called you when you rode out your orgasm on his dick, your nose red from the lines you’d done on the table.

Sukuna / Coming down: You are used to his calls early in the morning, he never contacts you besides these hours. You'd swear he was probably out drinking, snorting and popping any substance he’d buy or was given, had girls rubbing themselves on him and his friends. It was always around 5:30 AM when you’d hear his voice on the other end of the line, not assertive, like he’d usually be when he fucked you sober—but vulnerable, needy and shaky. "I’m all alone" he whined, driving over to your place, the party had finished and he wanted you to know. He’d be thrusting his stiff cock deep in your cunt from behind, your head pushed down the mattress, as you’d moan out his name, tears forming in your eyes. You really liked him—but he only wanted you when he was coming down, chasing one high after the other.

Toji / The Morning: He could be found downtown, outside a shady club’s door, he was pimping girls to loaded men for a living, in exchange they’d give him drugs, oxycodone and ecstasy pills, which he’d sell/smuggle occasionally—the pimping didn’t pay well enough. You were working in the same club, putting on a show for horny and greedy 'men', stripping was the main thing, not prostitution. He’d put a 100 dollar bill in your lacy thong as you swirled around the pole, looking in your eyes with meaning. You’d wink and blow him a kiss. 100's weren’t enough. Toji liked you, you were just like him, struggling to make ends meet and only out for the money, no feelings or shyness in sight. That was why the same night he had you bent over the club’s dirty sink, stuffing you with his cock and slapping your ass as he tossed bills on you—the sensation making you float and he knew you enjoyed this by the way you were clenching around him ("The money–agh–is the motive, yeah?") You liked this mutual agreement you both had, he was giving you the best dick and you were getting paid on top of that.

tags for warnings

#jujutsu kaisen #jjk men #jjk x you #gojo x reader #geto x reader #nanami x reader #toji x reader #sukuna x reader #jjk x reader #jjk smut #the weeknd #tw drugs

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fleshbride · 6 months

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A HOUSE IN NEBRASKA. ────── ཐི Satoru Gojo x Fem Black Reader. In which a young man and his small town lover run to a house in Nebraska to escape the traumas of their hometown. ཋྀ

♱ CW: major character deaths, suicide, angst with a happy ending, brief alcoholism, racism/microagressions, childhood best friend & country satoru, small town bullshit, a single derogatory use of ‘nigga’. fluff. pet names such as: sugar plum, doll, honey, princess, baby girl, dream girl, darling, sweet thing & sunshine. smut; unprotected sex, whiny service dom gojo, sub reader. cervix fucking, fingering, oral (f! receiving), riding, breeding, extreme amounts of praise bc satoru talks so fucking much, overstimulation, dumbification, light choking, marking, nipple play, body worship, dacryphilia, begging, pussy drunk satoru. satoru is utterly in love with you and does not try to hide it. chubby reader.

♱ this fic is inspired by a house in nebraska by ethel cain, my favorite singer <3 it’s one of my much much longer fics… this fic is actually so ouch. i’m so so so sorry guys. like yeah there’s PASSIONATE love making, but it’s so so so sad. i actually sobbed writing this. it’s not proof read so pleaseeeee excuse any any mistakes!

♱ wc: 10.1k

You didn’t think it would hurt this much. You didn’t think you’d feel them lodge in your throat, push down your esophagus with a burn. You take more gulps of water, as you gasp and choke. It helps a little bit. You swallow more. And more. And more. Until the bottle of oxycodone is empty. How many were in there? About thirty. You grasp at another bottle. Cross contamination is always the best method. Those go down your throat just as horribly as the rest.

You’re sitting on the floor now, waiting for your death to approach. The pills are burning down to your stomach, and you gulp more water. You stand on shaky legs, and stumble your way to your bed. It’s empty. Like so many other things. Like your heart.

You remember how you got to this point, in your final hours. As you collapse into your bed, eyes fluttering shut, you allow the memories to wash over you.

Two years ago, you lived in a small town in Alabama. It was your nineteenth birthday and you were intent on celebrating in a way that satisfied you. However, while legally an adult, you still weren’t old enough to do too much. And frankly, you weren’t well liked within town. Why? Well, in such a small town, even one you grew up in, that was predominantly another race… They weren’t very accepting to your differences. They weren’t very accepting to your skin, to your hair, to your body, to your personality. They weren’t accepting to you at all.

Even though you grew up there like the rest of them, played with their children, held some of their sons and daughters while they cried and helped them pass their classes, and walked the graduation stage with them. You were still an outsider.

And it was okay — because you had Satoru.

Satoru Gojo, the one of the only other people of color in the entire town — even though he was pale haired, with the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen, like everyone else in the town — was your best friend. You two had been best friends since third grade when he beat up some kid that called your afro ugly, and then you kicked some kid in the balls when he made fun of Satoru’s eyes, since he was Asian. Even at a young age, you two knew that those things were wrong — and you had to stick together.

And you did. You’ve stuck together all your lives, even through middle school, when your boobs started growing, and your hips started widening, and he got taller and his voice got deeper, and all of a sudden, there was this weird feeling. You stuck together through high school, when you got your first boyfriend, and he got his first girlfriend, neither of which ended well. Stuck together even when everyone twanged out, “Are y’all fuckin’?” You stuck together.

So of course, your birthday is spent with him.

Satoru still lives with his parents, technically. They own a ranch on the outskirts of town, and Satoru has his own personal little refurbished barn house, which he got for his graduation present. You’re always there, even more than your own home. Even now, you’re waiting on the wraparound porch of your house, hand over your eyes as you squint into the distance.

You can make out Satoru, on a horse, and with another at his side. He didn’t. You feel yourself squeal at the sight of the familiar white horse; your favorite one. Her name is Jezzy, and she’s the only white horse they have. You and Jezzy had bonded when Jezzy was first born, a little calf. You’ve been her favorite, and vice versa ever since. Frankly, she likes you more than the man that takes care of her.

You don’t wait for Satoru to get to your porch. You run to him, your gladiator sandals slapping against the dirt path and making your white-painted toes dusty. The pink and green floral dress you wear flutters around your knees as you sprint, the wind whipping your neck. Satoru hops down from his caramel horse, Honesty. He’s running to meet you half way, and the smile that had made its way onto your face only grows wider.

He yells your name, and you yell his, and the two of you collide. You throw your arms around his shoulders, and his arms encircle your waist as he lifts you up into a spin. “Happy Birthday, girl,” he laughs in your ear when he finally puts you down. His familiar Southern twang bouncing in your ears. He kisses your forehead, before taking a finger to run through your newly straightened hair.

“Yer curls are gone,” he says, almost sad, his lips pulling in a familiar pout. “You’re gonna get ‘em back, right? Love it when your hair’s like that.” He leans his arm on your shoulder, a familiar habit, even though he’s much taller than you.

“Yes, Satoru,” you muse, “They’ll be back next week, no worries.” You laugh as he whoops, and jumps in the air, clicking his heels together and causing dust to rise up. When he lands, he gives you a proud grin, folding his arms. You notice what he wears. He’s wearing a black polo shirt, that’s tucked into blue jeans and his jeans are messily tucked into his boots. You chuckle. Him and those fucking boots. His wind breaker is thrown over the polo. However, your eyes linger on how his chest presses against the polo. His white locks of hair frame his face, although his cowboy hat smushes his hair, and his sapphire eyes gaze at you happily. You don’t look away and he smirks.

“How’s it feel bein’ nineteen, sugar plum?” Satoru asks as he leads you to Jezzy, who’s quick to snort at you and nuzzle your face with her huge nose. You giggle and scratch her neck, pulling away a little so she doesn’t ruin the makeup you did on your face.

“Doesn’t feel like nothin’, Satoru,” you respond, jolting as he grabs your hips and lifts you to help you onto the horse. His strong hands on your hips make you bristle a little, but you should be used to it now, shouldn’t you? “Just getting older.” He grins up at you from below, giving a little laugh. “Yeah, I get it, plum. I’ll be turnin’ twenty in December, and man… I was just a tyke, wrestlin’ in the fields yesterday.”

You laugh, watching as he boards Honesty. You two start the horses up and begin trotting down the path. There’s a few seconds of silence, before Satoru asks, “You sure y’wanna do this birthday party?”

Ah. You were so swept up by Satoru’s arrival that you forgot where he was taking you. His mother threw a party for you, and decided to invite ‘damn near everyone in town’, according to Satoru. He was very dubious, considering your treatment, but you agreed to it. At first, your mother wanted it to be a surprise party, but Satoru insistently shut that down.

“I’m sure, ‘Toru,” you say gently. The male smacks his teeth, and rolls his eyes a little, before adding, “We can tell my mama to cancel everything, y’know? She won’t be mad at’cha. She knows that the townspeople are dickheads.” You refuse the urge to laugh, because he’s right. They are dickheads. However, you have hope.

“It’s fine,” you insist, “I don’t wanna waste your mom’s hard work. Plus, I’m sure nobody’s gonna do anything on my birthday.” Satoru sighs, but he doesn’t press any further. You’re not too worried; you know if something does happen, he’s right behind you, and he’ll come in swinging. There hasn’t been a time that he hasn’t. However, despite that, you can’t help but secretly feel jittery and nervous.

The rest of your ride to Satoru’s home is filled with jokes, and playful banter. The cool night air swirls around you two, making you shiver a little. You should’ve brought your cardigan. Satoru’s eyes quickly catch on and he chucks his windbreaker at you. He doesn’t say a word as you catch it, he just nods at you. You slide it on, and even in the cool air, your cheeks feel hot.

When you two get in sight of the house, Satoru whistles out, “Race ‘ya!” And it catches you off guard, but you’re quick to spur Jezzy on into canter, her strong legs sprinting forward as the two of you race towards the large ranch house. You and Jezzy win, making Satoru groan. As you both slow down, beginning to head to the stables, he shoots, “You only won ‘cause it’s your birthday!”

Your smug smile says enough about how you feel about that; even though Satoru has more experience with horses, you have your own little luck with racing — you win every race.

You watch as Satoru slides off Honesty. She brays at him and nudges his shoulder, and he chuckles, cooing to her, grabbing both of the horses’ saddle handles, pulling them into the stable. You know better than to try to get off horses on your own; you’re thrown off balance, every time, and end up on your ass. So you wait patiently as he puts Honesty in her stable, before coming over to you.

“Didn’t forget ‘ya, sugar plum,” he grins at you as he presses his hands to your hips. Instead of helping you crawl down, he simply just lifts you down. The stables smell of a mixture of horse, hay and dirt. Even though it’s not the best smell, you’re not focused on it. You’re focused on the way Satoru looks over you as he sets you on, eyes raking over your figure.

The dress that’s glued to your wide hips, draped over your plush figure. Your makeup, delicately painted on your face; he can tell you took your time on it. And you’re still wearing his jacket. He smiles, tucking a strand of your collarbone-length hair behind your ear. “Look at you,” comes his affectionate murmur, one that makes a fuzzy, bubbly feeling spread from your toes to your head. “Just a doll. Prettiest fuckin’ girl in this entire town.” You feel those feelings rising inside of you, and you try to push him away, embarrassed as you say, “Oh, stop, Satoru,” but he pulls you closer by your waist, craning down to you to press a kiss to your forehead.

“Nuh-uh, doll. You jus’ look so beautiful. You always do, but tonight you’re just… wow. Yer glowin’, Y/N.” Your heart is racing as he squeezes the plush of your waist, making you let out a ticklish giggle. Often, there are random times where he gets affectionate with you, extremely so — you should be used to these moments, but you aren’t. Your hands fist into his shirt as his lips press from your forehead, to down your chin. Your breath catches when they get too close to your lips.

This isn’t friendship anymore, is it?

“Happy birthday, princess,” he whispers into your ear, finally pulling away. You look up at him, eyes wide, as you breathily respond, “Thank you…” Satoru looks down at you, smiling gently as he hold you. He murmurs, “I have a surprise for you, y’know. Think you’ll like it.” Before you can question him, he places a finger right above your lips. He’s considerate; doesn’t wanna ruin your lip combo. “A little into the party. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

The two of you pull away from each other hesitantly, and Satoru kicks at the hay as he grins at you. “Party time, birthday girl. Come on.” The two of you exit the stable, sides brushing as you walk to his house.

Within ten minutes, you regretted insisting on going. Once you entered the ranch, carols of your name and ‘happy birthday’ echoed throughout the large common room. It was decorated in gold and white, with balloons everywhere and a little banner hung up for you. Satoru’s mother gave you a large hug, and wrapped her arms around your waist, steering you around to see the cake she baked you. You were all smiles and beams, immediately falling into her, with Satoru lumbering after, your hand outstretched backwards, clasped in his.

After you saw the cake, which was tri-tiered and your favorite flavor, you were passed around from person to person. You got many hugs, from townspeople you were sure didn’t like you very much, and to be fair; you enjoyed the kind attention. You wished it was your birthday every day.

Until, you got to a certain group of young women. You had graduated with the group, even though they were nasty as hell to you. As they approached you, you knew it wouldn’t be good. Vanessa, a tall brunette with pretty hazel eyes, gave you the fakest smile you’ve ever seen, before pulling you into a hug. “Oh, Y/N! Happy birthday, baby!” She cooed, squeezing you. You swallowed, wrapping your arms around her in turn. “…Thank you, Vanessa.” Once Vanessa pulled away, her two friends, Isabel and Megan, gave you hugs also.

“Ugh, Y/N,” Isabel began, running her fingers through your shiny silk press, “You look so much prettier with straight hair! Is this your real hair?” You give an awkward laugh as you gently remove her hand from your hair, looking around for Satoru frantically. Partygoers heard her comment and turned to tune in, furthering your discomfort.

“Yeah, it’s my real hair, please don’t touch it,” you tell her sweetly, watching as she rolls her eyes a little. “I was just complimenting you! You should wear it like that all the time, it looks so much better than your other hair.” You bristle uncomfortably. Were these bitches being racist? You swallow hard and give her a nod, and a smile.

Vanessa steps forward, eyeing you over before she’s chirping loudly, “And that dress is soooo cute! But it’s kinda tight.. Have you gained weight, or something?” Your smile almost drops, but you manage to keep it up, as you let out a delayed, fake laugh. People are starting to whisper and nudge each other, and immediately, more nosy sons of bitches turn to eye you. You’ve always been a bit thicker — that’s no secret. You didn’t have the skinny white girl genes, no. You were filled in by the time you were 13, and even as a nineteen year old, you had a bit of a plump body. You weren’t overweight or obese; you were perfectly healthy. It was just the way your body was. And the fact that these girls thought they could pick on you about it?

You refused to let it happen on your birthday.

“Oh no,” you cooed gently, mirroring Vanessa’s tone, “I haven’t! But um, are you recovering?” You blink gently at her. Fine, you think mentally, if she wants to put on a show, we can do that.

“From what?” Vanessa chirps hesitantly, eyes narrowing. She didn’t think you knew, huh?

“Those butt injections you got last month!” You answer loudly, putting a hand over your heart. Vanessa’s eyes widened as she looked around frantically, as people slowly began to whisper intently. She wasn’t used to the whispers, it seemed.

You were visiting at the local doctor’s office, when you overheard the doctor’s conversation with Vanessa, she was asking some questions about pain for it. You hurried to the bathroom before you could be seen, keeping the information in your head. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru making his way from the kitchen. He’s obviously heard what’s going on, and doesn’t look happy.

“I didn’t get no injections!” She claims, trying to take advantage of the situation, “Y/N, how could you spread such a nasty rumor?”

“Huh,” You say, “That’s real funny. So you’re just gaining weight too, hm? We should go to the gym together, do some cardio, you know? You must be eating a lot, if it’s all going to your ass!” You giggle, pushing her shoulder and making it all seem like some joke. She has no choice but to giggle with you.

“You know who I haven’t seen here?” Megan speaks up and immediately, you’re on edge. While Vanessa may be the face of the trio, she’s the one who’s more lethal and intelligent with her words. You’ve learned this too many times from high school. “Your parents, Y/N. Typical Black parents, you know? Never there when their kid needs them.” And more publicly racist. You resist the urge to grab this girl by her throat, and show her what exactly your Black parents had taught you. It isn’t like they’re absent — your father passed when you were a teen, and your mother was a chronic workaholic, struggling to provide for you.

“Crazy,” you hear a monotonous voice go behind you. You know exactly who it is, and you couldn’t be more relieved. In typical country boy fashion, Satoru is behind you, chewing on a toothpick. “Megan, weren’t ‘ya crying to me about how your poor dear ol’ daddy beats on ‘ya? Typical Megan, y’know? Always self-projectin’.” He whistles as he presses his hand to the small of your back, steering you out the ranch, the comments of the party trailing behind him. In the faint throes, you even hear, “That nigga bitch…”

You pretend it doesn’t bother you as Satoru leads you to his barn.

Once you’re comfortably nestled in the warmth of his barn, you let out your frustrations about the racism of the town. Satoru sits next to you, his toothpick still resting in his mouth. He watches you intently, before humming out, “Ya done, doll? Don’t let those assholes ruin yer day. Matter fact…” He got up, heading to his little kitchen. You only watched, still fuming a bit.

“Close yer eyes!” The white haired man yells at you, and you do so obediently, pretty brown eyes fluttering shut. You wait for him, hands folded in your lap. You hear the couch creak a little and something set on the table.

“Open ‘em,” you hear his gravelly voice tell you, and you obey. Your eyes lock on a cupcake, with a single candle in it. You soften considerably, calming down immediately.

“Aw, Satoru..” You whisper gently, placing your hand over his, eyes flickering from his face to the cupcake. “You didn’t have to.”

“Yeah I did,” he retorts, squeezing your hand. “You didn’t get to eat any of the cake, even though it was yours, and we needed to be alone anyways. Make a wish, honey.”

You close your eyes, leaning to the cupcake.

I wish that Satoru and I are together as long as we live, and even in death, may we stay together.

You blow out the candle then, before sliding the candle out the middle and licking the frosting off of it.

“One more thing,” Satoru says, sliding his hand into his pockets. He pulls out a golden heart-shaped locket from his pocket, dangling it around his finger. “This is for you, birthday girl.” He cracked open the locket, showing the pictures. On one side was a picture from third grade, the first day they met matter of fact — Satoru’s mother had taken it as a memento. On the other side was your graduation picture, where Satoru had his arm wrapped around you and his lips pressed into your forehead. How far you two had come.

He waves the locket in front of your face, as you gasp at the picture. “We haven’t been able to find this picture years, how did you….?” Satoru only grins and shrugs, as if it was nothing at all. In your pure bliss, you throw your arms around him. His arms wrap around your waist in turn, hugging you tightly.

You can feel tears budding in your eyes as you whimper out, “This was so nice of you…! I appreciate it so much, thank you, I love you!” Satoru laughs as he rocks you, before responding, “Shh. It was no biggie. C’mere, let me put it on for ‘ya.”

You pull away gently from each other, and you turn so that your back faces him. He drapes the necklace over your chest, using his knuckles to push your chin up a bit. He fiddles with the hooks a little before getting it right and letting go. You skim your fingers over the locket before turning back around with a smile.

He opened the locket, looking at the picture. “Man. Can’t believe I found photographs of our school, on the day we met.” He smiles a little, as he looks between the two small pictures. His eyes flicker up to you, then back down. You only watch him with softening eyes. Your heart pumps, and that bubbly feeling spreads through you again. He makes you feel so warm. You’re not an idiot, you know exactly what the things you feel are. You weren’t dense; you knew for a long time.

But you can’t bear to say a word before he did. However, you didn’t expect it to be so soon.

Satoru takes a deep breath, his eyes filled with a mix of anticipation and vulnerability. He gathers his courage before softly uttering, "I thought that you were so beautiful… it was love, I guess." His gaze remains fixed on you, his heart hanging in the balance, waiting for your response, hoping that his words have stirred something within you.

You don’t realize what he had said at first, before it registers. You double take, eyes widening as you look at him frantically. “Satoru. Satoru. It was what?” His face is pink as he looks away from you, but you were insistent, crawling closer to him as you plead, “It was what?” Your hands grab his shirt and he whistles, looking away from you.

Finally, he mumbles out, “… Was love, I guess.”

“What kind?” You press, tears bubbling in your eyes once more. It couldn’t be. He looks at you for what feels like hours. “You know what kind, darlin’. Don’t make me repeat myself. In a way I shouldn’t.”

“Say it.” You hiss, crawling into his lap. He spreads his legs immediately, making room for you as you place yourself in front of him, grabbing his chin and forcing him to look at you. “Tell me.” One of his hands rests on your hip and the other trails to play with your locket.

He looks almost shy this way, his blue eyes heavy lidded as you request his words. He sucks in an inhale before he’s saying, “I love you, Y/N…. and not as your best friend. I want ‘ya to be my girl. There, said it… Please let me be yours.”

You’re silent. He wants you to be his girl. Your brain is slow to process it, slow to understand it, slow to reciprocate. However, as you reflect upon his desire for you, a wave of emotions starts to wash over you. Confusion is gradually replaced by clarity, hesitation transforms into certainty, and the realization of his affection for you fills your heart with joy. Suddenly, everything seems to make sense, like a complex jigsaw puzzle finally coming together to reveal a beautiful picture.

“Okay.” It’s all you say. Satoru’s eyes widen, as if he was expecting a rejection. Before he can answer, you’re pressing your lips to his, finally taking the initiative for fucking once. When your lips crash against him, it’s like heaven and hell have collided in a fiery, desperate match.

Satoru’s hands grasp at you, desperate, as his tongue pushes its way into your mouth, curling against your tongue. The way you two kiss is messy, and needy, saliva coats your lips, but it couldn’t be better. Satoru pants into your mouth as he runs his hands over your body feverishly.

“Fuck,” he grunts into your mouth, pulling away briefly to adjust his pants as best as possible. “So hard, you got me s’hard, doll. Shit, shit, get up, or ‘m gonna explode..” You can feel his dick, straining against his jeans beneath you. You don’t get up from your spot, and he lets out a groan into your mouth.

Your hands are sliding under his shirt, feeling the firm abs underneath, trying to touch any bit of his skin you can. His hands squeeze the swell of your ass as he nips at your bottom lip, before sliding his lips down to your throat. He begins to kiss your throat before sucking, biting, making sure your skin is covered in dark marks.

You grab his cowboy hat and throw it off, so you’re able to sink your fingers into his white locks of hair, letting out slight moans as his hands move from your ass to your tits. He caresses them through your dress, and you hiccup as he finds your nipples.

“You ain’t even wearin’ a bra?” He asks you, pulling away from the curve of your neck, to look at you. Satoru’s eyes are glazed over, and low. His face is pink, his hair is ruffled, and his lips are swollen, but he’s never looked happier.

You shake your head, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth nervously. “It didn’t look right with my dress…” Satoru only stares at you, before he’s throwing his head back, groaning. “Fuck, I can’t do this. I can’t do this, princess, I need you so bad.” His chest rises and falls so rapidly, and you can feel his bulge pressing up against you as you sit on him.

You need him just as bad as he needs you, the wetness in your panties tells you all you need to know. Satoru is looking at you with those violently blue eyes. You realize that you’ve been holding your feelings back for years, even now — your love for him, your attraction, and your pure, unadulterated desire.

“Please,” he whispers, pressing a small kiss to your lips, “Please let me put it inside you, please, just the tip.. Please, please, please, fuck, it feels like ‘m gonna fuckin’ die, please, baby girl, need your pussy s’bad….” You enjoy the way he’s acting; you’ve never been wanted like this before, and you doubt you ever will.

“Satoru, you don’t have to beg,” you murmur, draping yourself across his body, arms around his shoulders as he palms your ass and sneaks his hand down to cup your clothed heat.

“Know I don’t,” he whispers, fingers pressing against you in a way that makes you lift your hips, and whine a little. “Look at how wet you are, girl. Any more and ya just may flood your panties.” His fingers push your panties to the side and you gasp as the cold air hits your pussy. His other hand hikes up your dress, balling it up in his fist.

“Gonna make you feel good first, doll,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your jawline. “Relax, ‘nd let Satoru take care of you, mkay?” You nodded feverishly as a finger slid through your plush folds. His finger almost immediately found your clit and swirled around it, causing you to let a little mewl escape your lips. Satoru’s lips were meanwhile pulled into a smug grin at the sound you made. He maneuvered your body, so you were lying back against the couch, legs spread for him.

He tugged your panties down your legs and tossed them somewhere, before pushing the fabric of your dress up and settling between your plump thighs. Without wasting any more time, his finger circled your entrance, teasing you. You huff a little, pouting down at the white haired man, and he grins in response before sliding two fingers into you.

You moan, arching your back as pleasure seeps through you. Satoru’s long fingers reach farther than yours ever could. He smiles at you as he curls his fingers against your walls. “Such pretty moans, good girl,” he coos, pressing a kiss to your thighs, as he begins to pump his fingers inside of you. Your thighs twitch, and you grip at the couch. His fingers are skilled, scissoring and curling, as the sloppy sound of your wetness echoed through the barn. Satoru leaned forward, enclosing his lips around your clit.

The combined effort of his fingers and his mouth had you squirming and whining beneath him. He pressed a hand to your stomach, his movements halting and eyes narrowing as they snapped to you; you know what he was telling you. Stop moving or he’d stop.

You couldn’t take that. You stilled your movements, trying your best to relax as Satoru slowly resumed his ministrations, lapping at your cunt while sliding his fingers in and out of you. His fingers curled against a spot that had your toes curling as you cried out his name. He pressed his tongue flat against your clit, and had another finger pressing into your heat. You let out a squeal at the slight burn, hand flying to grip his hair. “Satoru-! Ah, that’s too much!” He gave you a silencing glare, blue eyes honeyed with lust. His fingers nudged your g-spot, and the whine that left your lips let him know exactly what he had pressed.

His movements all sped up, as you felt your stomach tightening. Between each of your moans was a pant, as you cried of his name. Everytime his fingertips pressed against your g-spot, you felt yourself get closer and closer to orgasm. Mixed with his tongue swirling your clit, you couldn’t take it. Your thinking got fuzzy as the rubber band in your core was pulled farther and farther. “Toru! I-I’m close!” You whimpered, as his quick, skilled movements brought you to your peak. Your eyes rolled back as you gushed all over his fingers, breathing hard. You didn’t even notice, in your stupor, when he replaced his fingers with his tongue, lapping up your essence.

His tongue was flat against your entrance, as he licked from hole to clit and back again. When you finally came to, you were whining all over again, sensitive as Satoru flicked his tongue across your bundle of nerves. You pushed his head, letting out a. “Hold on, ‘m sensitive!” Satoru smacked your hand away, mumbling out, “Shh, doll. Gimme another one.”

He dived back in between your thighs, mouth latched onto your pussy as he pressed his tongue against your hole, fat tongue working itself while he slurped at your essence. A mixture of his spit and your juices dripped down your ass – but he was quick to slide his tongue down, licking that right up.

He was messy with his mouth, unabashedly slurping, sucking, and licking everything you had to offer, the wet smacking noises echoing through the room. You would’ve been embarrassed if it didn’t feel so good.

Before long, you were about to cum a second time, eyes squeezing closed as you gasped and spasmed, letting out a broken cry as another orgasm claimed your body. Satoru was ecstatic, lapping up your cum and guiding you through your high without breaking a sweat.

Once you came down from your high, he pulled away gently, his intense gaze locked on you. His eyes glimmered, pale hair askew as he latched his mouth back to yours. His hands gripped at your dress, yanking at the sleeves to pull them down your arms, before the entire dress was coming down to your waist.

Your lips moved feverishly as you fiddled with the buttons of his polo, and he raised his arms to slide it off. His buff form was revealed, abs firm and his strong arms moving to cocoon you against him. There were gentle words being exchanged between your lips. “So gorgeous, Y/N. Fuuuck, honey, can’t wait to feel your pussy ‘round my dick.” Satoru mumbles as his fingers fumble with his jeans. However, before he unbuttons them, he looks at you. “You sure you want this, sunshine? We can stop here, and keep kissin’. Fuck what I want, ‘kay? What does m’girl want?”

God, you didn’t think that he could get any hotter. But his consideration of your wants and needs make you get even wetter. “Satoru, I want you,” you say gently, one hand pressing to the side of his face. He nuzzles into your touch, eyes softening. “Want you too, sunshine. So much I just might go insane..” He finally unbuttoned those stupid jeans, yanking them down and his boxers with it. His length sprung out, and your eyes popped out of your head.

Satoru was the size that those fake ass dick pills promised, his tip pressing just under his belly button. His tip was mushroom shaped and fat, as pink as his blushed cheeks, and weeping fat beads of precum. His length was a bit on the skinnier side, and although his girth wasn’t anything to fear too much, his length definitely was. His dick was something straight out of porn propaganda.

“Toru, that’s not gonna fit,” you found yourself saying, your eyes flickering from his length to his pretty face in anxiousness. Satoru only leaned down to kiss you, shutting you up. “It’s okay, princess” he whispered sweetly. Even now, as his dick pressed against your stomach, his tip landed slightly above your navel. “Don’t be scared, ‘m gonna take such good care of you,” his kisses went down your neck, to your chest. He kissed around your breasts, before his tongue flicked out to lick your right nipple, hardening it. He turns his head, lavishing the same attention on your left. His hands multitasked, grabbing a pillow and sliding it underneath your back.

His kisses moved to the valley of your breasts, before going down your stomach. He pressed kisses into your love handles, to your stomach, to your cunt, which made you giggle, to your thighs, before he was holding up your legs and kissing up your calves. He even kissed your feet. He traced your stretch marks lovingly, murmuring out, “Only God knows how I’ve waited for this. For you. Fuck, Y/N, you’re just so fucking beautiful. More beautiful than any of the women in this town. Shit, I could cum just lookin’ at you…”

You couldn’t help but simper at his words, face warming as you wrap your legs around his waist. “Please just fuck me already, Satoru.” His tip slid against your clit and you let out a soft whine. “Please, just…” You were silenced by the feeling of him rubbing his tip down your slit, collecting your juices before you felt him pressing against your hole.

You hissed, hands flying up to his shoulders as your nails dug into his skin. To distract you from the burn of him entering you, he began to lather kisses and lovebites across your throat and collarbones. Your hole stretched around his tip, as tears burned in your eyes, the slight pain making you shift uncomfortably.

“It’s okay, baby girl, I got you,” he whispered against your skin, tongue sliding across your throat as he sucked more hickeys onto the expanse of your throat. He pushed his tip in, and once the burn of it faded, he fed you inch by inch of his dick. Your pussy constricted around him, sucking him in greedily as your juices coated his length.

The feeling of him bottoming out inside of you had you letting out a high-pitched whine, eyes rolling back. Above you, Satoru let out a whine identical to yours. “Oh, f-fuck,” he stuttered, his eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck, almost came. You’re so warm, ‘nd wet— You feel so good, baby doll, oh shit.. Your pussy’s grippin’ me so nicely, fuck, I-I can’t take it.. Oh my God, tell me when I can move…”

Satoru was breathing heavily, as he looked down at you, your pretty face contorted in pleasure as his tip nudged against your cervix. Just the feeling of him stretching you out had you seeing stars, euphoria coursing through your veins. When you finally adjusted, you tapped his shoulder, telling him you were ready.

Satoru pulled out, so that only his fat tip was inside of you, before rocking his hips into yours. That first shallow thrust had you release a hiccuped moan, gripping his shoulders. He took this as a positive sign. Satoru’s thrusts were slow, yet deep, and each time his tip was pressed to your cervix.

The feeling of it, thought it hurt some, was extremely pleasureful to you, and a whine of, “Faster, please,” exited your lips. Satoru’s brows furrowed slightly as he grinned. “Alright, darlin’ but when you can’t walk in the mornin’, don’t blame me!” He pulled out a little before pushing his hips into yours. He delivered you those deep strokes, just at a much faster pace.

Your tits bounced, body propelled forward as he held your thighs for stability, his dick stretching you out, stirring up your guts. The angle from the pillow only heightened your pleasure, and each thrust forced out a blissful whine or a whimper of his name from you.

Satoru let out heavy groans, not scared at all to let you know just how good you felt around him. And even better, he leaned down to let husky murmurs of praise fill your ears. “Such a good girl, takin’ me s��good… Like your pussy was made for me. You feel amazing, darlin’, wanna make you cum so bad… You feel good? Please tell me ‘m making you feel good, baby girl…” His voice was breathy and desperate in your ear, as you struggled to form the words he wanted to hear. “Please, baby? S-Shit, let me know how good ‘m making you feel on your birthday.”

His words only drive you crazier, head spinning as you gasp out, “Makin’ me feel s’good, Satoru! P-Please, please, please don’t stop, oh my God!” Satoru cursed under his breath as his hands slid from your thighs to your breasts, squeezing at them. His fingers circled your nipples, before he pulled, twisted and rolled them between his fingers. It only shoved you closer to the edge, as his tip briefly pressed against your g-spot. The brief gasp you gave from it let Satoru’s perceptive ass know, and he angled his hips to hit that spot, instead of your cervix.

The sound of your hips colliding filled your ears, along with Satoru’s raspy moans. Within no time, you were alerting him, “Toru, ‘m gonna c-cum again!” The third orgasm you had in a row, and it seemed like Satoru wasn’t stopping. He chuckled, moving one of the hands on your tits to swirl your clit in rough circles. “Mhm, go ‘head, sweet thing. Let go f’me.”

It pulsed underneath his finger pad, as your third climax seized your body. Your breathing heavy and quick as you let out gasped out, long moans and wails, your pussy clenching around his length as you creamed around him. Euphoria was spreading through you, to every part of your body.

Satoru’s eyes widened as he fucked you through your orgasm; his own was catching up to him, and it had him letting out deep whimpers mixed with his moans.

“Can I cum in you?” He gasped, hands gripping your waist. His nails digging into you so hard, crescent marks were being left on your skin. “Please, baby? Fuck, need to cum s’bad, and I wanna see my cum dripping from your pretty pussy…” He shoved his face into the curve of your neck as he began to beg. “Please, Y/N, wanna feel you around me while I fuckin’ cum, I-I need it, please, you feel s’perfect and I just wanna fill you up and watch it slide out. Wanna pump you full over and over until you’re filled with my babies—“ Satoru was rambling by now as he bucked desperately into you. He let out a shaky whine against your skin as your bodies collided passionately.

Your sensitive body quaked in his hold as he pleaded to cum in you. You couldn’t deny him, not when there were tears budding in his eyes, and his swollen dick was fucking you up like this, and he looked so pretty whining out your fucking name. You gave him a nod, even though your brain was foggy and you could barely care about what you were saying yes to.

Satoru let out a sigh of relief, moaning out, “Thank you, princess, thank you, thank you, love you, I love you—“ The feeling you got when you felt that first spurt of cum fill you was unbelievable. Warmth spread through you, as Satoru’s dick twitched and bobbed inside of you, before he was releasing his thick cum into you.

Just like he said he would, Satoru stuffed you full of his cum. He collapsed against you, face in your titties as you both breathed hard. He pulled out slowly, his dick getting a little soft. In a heartbeat, he was spreading your ass so he could watch his warm cum trickle from your hole.

And just like that, he was hard again.

You watched with dazed eyes as his dick twitched, ready to go again. Satoru grinned at you, tilting his head as he said, “I’d eat my cum out of you right fuckin’ now, but I need to feel you around me one more time.” He scooped you up, maneuvering so he was laying back and you were in his lap again. “For every year you are,” he murmured, his finger trailing down your spine, “Is every round we go. Every position we swap. I can keep up… Can you?”

You knew you couldn’t. You knew you couldn’t compete with his stamina. But you nodded your head yes, and lifted your hips anyways as a mix of both of your cum slid down your thigh. “Mhm, baby,” he laughed a little, holding your hips as he guided you. “You can keep up? I’ll have you fucked dumb by round five. Maybe even this round. Hopefully ya last, birthday girl.”

Before you could even respond to his bravado, he pulled you down, spearing you on his length. You let out a squeal, as you clutched his arms. You were still sensitive, and you made sure to whine it loudly. His hands moved to grip your ass, pulling you up and dropping you back down. His tip bumped your cervix s he did so, and you mewled, pressing your face into his chest.

“Nuh uh, sugar, you can last right?” He taunted, even though his breath was shaky. “Ride me. Right now.” He wasted no time with sliding in a joke, “You ride horses so well, I’m sure you can ride mine.”

You bit your lip as you planted your feet into the couch, using your lower body strength to pull your body up. You began to bounce down on him feverishly, immediately setting a fast pace for yourself. Satoru hit all the spots you needed, and you felt your fogged brain saying that you should’ve fucked him much longer ago.

Satoru cupped your ass as you rode him, stuttered breaths leaving him. “Oh, s-shit, baby, yer goin’ so fast—!” He gasped, your pussy clamping down on him like no other. You kept going, ignoring him, as if you were using him. You had something to prove. You purposefully clenched harder around him, intent on making him cum first, to prove he was the one who couldn’t last.

Satoru, unfortunately, quickly picked up on what you were doing. His hands gripped your hips once more as he huffed, “Sweet thing’s got a vendetta. Mm, fine. I’ll bite.” His heavy lidded lapis eyes peered at you as he began to thrust upwards to meet your bounces, tip jamming against your g-spot. The only noises that left your mouth were squeals, the little bit of control you had dissipating.

Satoru quickly regained his control as he fucked up into you, watching as your tits bounced and your eyes rolled back. Your sweat covered bodies merged, and his eyes were fixed on the way his dick slid in and out of you, and the cum coating his length. The noise of him pounding into you seemed to be amplified. For another time, you felt yourself reaching a climax, stomach tightening as your jaw went slack. It was coming so fast, you couldn’t even alert Satoru.

You let out strained moans of pleasure as he continued to fuck into your sensitive pussy, bringing you to the peak of ecstasy for the fourth time. The throbbing sensation in your clit, though slightly painful, only added to the intense pleasure coursing through your body. Each orgasmic wave that washed over you was a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

Finally spent, you dropped against him, whimpering pathetically as he continued to use your body like a cocksleeve. Tears filled your eyes as he pushed past your sensitivity, fucking into you like a menace. You knew he had stamina, but God, this was insanity. His hand wrapped around your neck loosely, tilting your head up to look at him.

The sight Satoru laid his eyes on was heavenly. Your hair was mussed, starting to sweat out; your makeup was becoming messy from the tears beginning to slide down your face. Your lip combo was long gone, though there were remnants on both his lips and yours. The sight of your tears only fueled him, as he kissed them away. “Thank you for letting me have your body like this, pretty. Pussy was made for me. Just divine, you’re jus’ divine.. Gonna marry you and then ‘m gonna fuck you so much that your body wouldn’t be able to escape pregnancy— You want my babies, don’t you? Say yes, tell me you want me as much as I want you…” Satoru was very obviously close, the trembling and the rambles were a tell tale sign.

You found yourself mindlessly nodding to everything he said, and it wasn’t long before he was shooting another load deep into you. You thought he was done, before he was grabbing your chubby thighs, hoisting your legs up, and locking your body into a full nelson position.

As he drilled his long cock into you once more, it was simply too much for you. You gave in, mind going blank as he slammed into you, filling you to the hilt. Your eyes were glazed over, tears still falling. Your mouth hung open as overstimulated whimpers left your lips. You came a fifth time, but you were so far gone, you didn’t even notice.

“L-Look at you,” Satoru said, his lips pressing against your shoulder, “Too much for you, yeah? Look so pretty like this, sweet girl. Fuck, fuck, fuck, ‘m cummin’ too quick—!” Satoru was overstimulated himself, but that didn’t stop him. As he came a third time, the both of your fluids slathered all over his dick as he dropped you from the nelson, and flipped you onto your hands and knees.

“Need more of you,” he rasped, spreading your ass as he messily spread his cum around your pussy and thighs, before stuffing you full once more. He pressed kisses into your spine, as he gripped your ass, fucking you from behind.

The sex was depraved, as Satoru fucked you like a man starved. You were too far gone, drooling into the couch as he fucked you like you both were dying tomorrow. But, it wasn’t long before he was finally slowing down, heavy balls squeezing as he began to have dry orgasms.

Finally, he pulled out, scooping your barely there, sex-addled body up and carrying you to his bed. He dropped down into bed, you on top of him as he threw the blankets over the two of you.

He pressed kisses to your face, and then your lips, as he whispered, “Even if we die tonight, then I’ll die yours, and you’ll die mine.” Somehow you managed to reciprocate, as exhaustion slowly claimed you. “So then, I’ll die here under you; every night, all night.”

The last thing you heard before you passed out, were Satoru’s whispered love confessions, and promises for the future.

Your honeymoon phase of the relationship seemed to be forever, although things in town got harder. People were more openly racist; vandalizing your home, your father’s grave, and your mother managed to somehow overwork herself to death. You were now alone, in an empty house, and with an empty heart. Save for Satoru.

Where darkness lingered in the corners of your life, he was the light that banished all of it. To escape, he often drove you to Nebraska, far enough but still close. The two of you found an abandoned house on the outskirts of the state. A single two-floor house. You loved it utterly.

Satoru was a bit of a criminal, stealing a bobby pin from your hair and picking the lock. Managing to get into the house, so you could see the interior. It wasn’t like anyone was there to care. When you were there, the two of you cleaned up the house, and pretended like it was your own place. It was the place where you found each other on a dirty mattress on the second floor.

Months passed. Then a year. Satoru turned twenty, then so did you. Like your last birthday, it was spent in love, and in a sex-crazed haze. You two pave your own road, feet weathering the trail to the house in Nebraska, leaving your mark. It’s in the spring, when you two are at the house, and Satoru gets on one knee, pulling out a golden ring with a bright diamond.

“When I came home after graduation, I told my mama I was gon’ marry you,” he said matter of factually, “She asked me if you knew that. I told her no, but you would eventually. So now, I’m askin’ you if you’ll bless me by being my wife.”

You screamed yes so loud, the two of you were sure you alerted others of your presence.

Your engagement angered the town. Although Satoru was a person of color too, they were sure he looked best with a white girl. It got to the point where they got violent with you. Calling you slurs, and being so racist, you became afraid to leave Satoru’s side.

But, it was okay — because you two stuck together, always.

You prepared for your wedding as best as you could in your anxious state. Satoru’s mother even bought you a wedding dress — from one of your favorite brands, Vivienne Westwood. Vivienne made the most beautiful wedding dresses.

However, your hometown was getting overwhelming. You couldn’t help but look over your shoulder at any given moment. Satoru knew it was time to go.

He told his mother that he had to get you out of here — there was nothing but pain for you here. He couldn’t let you live like this. She understood, more than anything. She handed Satoru a wad of cash, telling him to visit soon.

He bought the house in Nebraska. How he found the owner, you never found out. But he bought that fucking house, and you two packed your bags and you never fucking looked back.

Nebraska was nice. You didn’t go into town often because of your anxiety, but Satoru assured you it was fine. You loved your home. You loved your future husband. You were soothed, and nothing could ruin it.

Until one day, Satoru didn’t come home from visiting his mother. You opted out that time, feeling a bit sick, and not up for the long drive. You got the call from his mother. You barely remembered anything but the words, ‘Shooting. Hospital. Coma.’ And you were catching the bus to Alabama.

You never wanted to return home, but you had to. You didn’t let them turn you away or shame you. You joined his mother in the hospital. And soon after you got there, after you held his hand, and sobbed his name, and kissed his face, and as if he was waiting for you, Satoru Gojo passed away.

The story was that Satoru got into an altercation with a group of men who said some horrible things about you. Even when they threatened him with a gun, he didn’t back down. He was always so protective when it came to you, and it killed him. And now, you were the reason that he won’t come home.

The birthday wish you made didn’t come true. Because the love of your life was gone, and you were so alone.

You stayed for his funeral. Open casket. Unlike everyone else, you didn’t wear black. You wore your wedding dress, and a veil. You were a widow, even though you hadn’t even gotten married yet. You never would. His mother held you by the waist, crying silently as she guided you to his casket. And as you leaned down to press a final kiss to his dead cold lips, nobody said a thing to you.

You disappeared soon after, with gentle words to his mother.

You retreated to your house in Nebraska, where you needed him. Months pass, and you need him still. You rot away in that house, plagued by memories. His scent still lingers on his untouched clothes, and sometimes you open the drawers to smell.

His mama calls sometimes, to see if you’re doing well. You lie to her and say that you’re doing fine. When really you’d kill yourself to hold him one more time.

You manage to force yourself to go to town, to buy things. You cry every day, and the bottles make it worse — because he was the only person you weren’t scared to tell you hurt.

And you feel so alone. You feel so alone out here. You feel so alone without him. You’re so alone out here, and you miss him more than anything. Every day, waking up without him warming you, breathing air that he does not share, it breaks you piece by piece. You feel so alone.

More months pass and you turn twenty-one alone. And you realize you can’t continue life like this.

You feel so alone.

On your twenty-first birthday, you put on your wedding dress, the one you never got to walk down the aisle in. You pick up the pills, sobbing as you whimper, “I’m so alone out here without you, baby.” You down the pills.

You remember all of this as you die, life flashing before your eyes. You’re curled up in your bed, now clutching one of his shirts to your chest. It’s like you fall asleep, despite the toxicity causing your body to fail. You finally die.

You wake up in a garden of flowers. Lillies of the valley, to be exact. You look around wildly. Cloudless blue sky, and flowers to be seen for days. You’re in your wedding dress. Is this what the afterlife is like? An endless, calming flower field? A breeze ruffles you. You begin to walk. Time doesn’t seem to pass here, because you can’t tell if it’s been seconds or days.

You know you’re dead, but why are you here?

“Y/N?”

You freeze. You know that voice. Tears fill your eyes, and you turn slowly. There he is. That ruffled white hair, bright blue eyes staring into you. You see the tears that well in his eyes, mirroring yours. “What are you doing here?” He cries, and he’s rushing to you, and he’s gathering you in his arms, cupping your face. You’re shaking your head and sobbing, because it’s him, it’s him and he’s here and you can hold him again.

“What’re you doing here, dream girl?” He sobs and he’s pressing his lips to yours, kissing you as if you’ll fade away. The kiss is salty as you two hold on to each other, tears mingling. When the two of you finally break away, he’s still holding your face, as you sob out, “I was so alone without you, Satoru! I couldn’t do it, I couldn’t live without you!”

He sobs harder and holds you against his chest, which is bloodied. “You killed yourself?” You nod ashamed, but he didn’t yell at you, or judge you. He never, ever has. He holds you, pressing kisses into your face, your hair. “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t want to leave you — I held on, I held on until you came, and I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to survive,” he cried into your hair, “Leaving you hurt so much. It hurt more than getting shot did. We were supposed to have so much time. We were supposed to get married and have babies and die together when we old a-and, we didn’t.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you whimper back, as he squeezes you tight, tighter than he ever has. If you were alive, you’d be struggling to breathe. “But I wish you would’ve let it go. Let it go and came home to me.”

Satoru doesn’t respond, instead he’s pulling away to kiss you again. “I wish I did too. I would’ve came back to our house in Nebraska, where the world was empty, save you and I. But at least we’re here. I don’t know where it is, but this is where I’ve been. Waiting for you to come. I just want expecting it so soon.” He sniffles, obviously sad.

“I had nothing left for me,” you whispered, as the two of you lace your fingers together, “I needed you still. I… I was horrible.”

“I visited you in your sleep a lot,” Satoru admitted, as the two of you began to walk. “It was the only time I could. I watched you sleep, all the time. You slept with my shirts. It made me feel good.”

You lean against him, he’s warm and he smells just as though you remember. You two walk, for a while, talking about the future you deserved.

Until you reach a house.

A house identical to your house in Nebraska.

“Well, I’ll be,” Satoru whispered, obviously shocked, turning to look at you. Tears were falling down your cheeks as you smiled, whispering, “Guess you’re stuck with me, even in death.”

“Wouldn’t wanna be stuck anywhere else,” he pressed a kiss to your forehead. He pulled a bobby pin out of your hair, and just like old times, Satoru picked the lock to the door.

You two stuck together; in life and death, and you still call home that house in Nebraska.

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doormatty3 · 4 months

Text

Ocean Eyes: Chapter 4 (Orm Marius x Reader)

Masterlist Ao3

Ocean Eyes Masterlink

Summary:

[Orm Marius x Female Reader] [Orm Marius x You]

The ocean has always fascinated you - the ebb and flow of its water, the marine life in the sea and the wild and untamed beauty it exudes. Your attempts to explain this fascination have always fallen short. But when you meet Orm at the seaside one rainy day you find, that he just understands. You offer to show him around since he is not from the city. And you are intrigued by his rather strange quirks and his regal demeanour. After all, how could you not? When his eyes mirror the ocean itself, deep and incredibly blue. OR: You impress Orm with the surface world and he impresses you with his Atlantean cock

Wordcount: 4721

A/N: If there some mistakes, I had a major surgery and am currently high on Oxycodon...

As the day unfolds in a gentle rhythm, you and Orm find solace in the simplicity of lazy kisses and unhurried walks along the shoreline. The connection between you two is palpable, a subtle energy that defies explanation.

It‘s akin to the unspoken bond you have with the sea – a presence that exists without the need for words or rationale. It just is.

The lazy kisses are a sweet punctuation to moments of shared silence. Each touch, each caress, carries with it absolute bliss.

The slow walks along the beach with the sand beneath your feet, warmed by the sun, create a soft pathway for the two of you. The play of light on the water, the shifting hues of the sea mirroring the ebb and flow of emotions between you and Orm. The horizon stretches endlessly, a metaphor for the boundless potential of the connection you share.

The day progresses at its own unhurried pace, mirroring the unhurried nature of your connection. It‘s as if time itself has slowed down, allowing you to savour the simplicity of being in each other‘s company.

As you spend more time with Orm, you find yourself wanting to get to know him better - to unravel the layers of the person beneath the surface. However, you sense that it doesn‘t make sense to push him - he has to approach you,

Sometimes, his eyes betray the storm within him. There‘s a depth to Orm that intrigues you, a narrative etched in the lines of his expressions.

And so, you tread gently through the storm in his eyes, offering a steady presence without demanding entry into the tempest.

In the ebb and flow of days, you find a quiet rhythm with Orm.

The days are punctuated with laughter, conversations, and shared silences that speak volumes. You explore the nuances of his likes and dislikes, weaving the tapestry of your understanding of each other. In the simple joys of companionship, you find a happiness that surpasses even your most cherished expectations.

Waking up next to Orm becomes a source of comfort, a tangible warmth that permeates your mornings. His presence beside you is a reassurance, and falling asleep in his arms at night feels like being cradled by a serenade of tranquillity.

As you navigate the passage of time together, the bond between you and Orm deepens with shared experiences, mutual understanding, and unspoken affections.

_____

In the gentle embrace of morning, you awaken to the warmth of Orm‘s body pressed against yours. The soft light filtering through the curtains paints a tranquil scene, and as you open your eyes, the first thing you feel is the steady rhythm of his breath, a comforting lullaby in the quietude of the dawn.

Orm‘s arms are securely wrapped around you, creating a sense of safety and intimacy. The rise and fall of his chest against your back form a soothing cadence, a heartbeat that resonates with the peaceful stillness of the early morning.

With eyes half-open, you take in the contours of the room, the subdued light of dawn casting a gentle glow. Cradled in Orm‘s embrace, you savour the quiet beauty of these morning moments, where time seems to stand still, and the world outside is yet to fully awaken.

But it‘s late enough to get up you think, so you slip out of Orm‘s embrace, careful not to disturb his peaceful slumber. With a gentle touch, you rise from the bed, leaving behind the warmth of the covers.

You steal a final glance at him, a quiet affection swelling within you for his peaceful, sleeping form.

You make your way to the kitchen to brew coffee for yourself and prepare tea for Orm. While he really doesn‘t like coffee, you found out that he has a rather sweet tooth and likes fruity teas.

As you walk through your living room, your gaze shifts towards the window overlooking the terrace.

To your surprise, a tall, bulky figure captures your attention - A huge man stands on your lawn.

His long brown hair and beard contribute to a rugged appearance. As he stands there, the rays of the morning sun dance upon intricate tribal tattoos that tell a silent tale on his well-defined arms.

Instead of looking lost, he seems like he belongs - like he is waiting.

Reacting instinctively, you grab a fire poker, your heart pounding with a mix of caution and adrenaline. The sturdy handle feels reassuring in your grip as you cautiously open the door, the brisk morning air brushing against your skin.

The stranger meets your gaze as the door swings ajar, and you waste no time asking, “What do you want? And who are you?”

“I‘m Arthur,” the towering man responds, his eyes locked onto yours.

His sheer size renders him an imposing figure, dwarfing even Orm in comparison. In hindsight, you realise you should have called for Orm instead of venturing out on your own.

Thinking logically, you surmise that if he intended to harm you, he would have struck by now, so you inquire, “And what do you want, Arthur?”

“I‘m Orm‘s brother. I need to talk to him, please,” he explains, hands raised in a gesture of non-aggression.

Your scepticism persists as you lower the fire poker and remark, “What? I‘m sorry, but you two don‘t exactly look alike.”

Amused, Arthur lets out a hearty laugh, “I know. He‘s my half-brother.”

“How do you know he‘s here?” you inquire, unable to shake off the scepticism. Orm‘s family is uncharted territory, and Arthur‘s sudden arrival stirs a mix of curiosity and caution.

“Oh, he told me,” Arthur replies with a nonchalant smile.

The revelation that Orm talks about you to his family brings a pleasant warmth to your cheeks. It‘s a subtle affirmation of the connection you‘ve been building with him. It‘s a vulnerable yet comforting feeling, knowing that you hold a place in his thoughts outside the moments you spend together.

However, Arthur‘s unexpected appearance and claim of urgency cast a shadow of doubt and wariness.

“But if you talk to him regularly, why not just ask him directly?” you press, your tone carrying a note of suspicion.

“It‘s urgent – please,” Arthur implores, his gaze holding a sense of sincerity. The urgency in his voice hints at something pressing, and you furrow your brow - you‘d really like to know what‘s going on.

“Arthur, he never mentioned you – he never said anything about his family,” you assert, your words carrying a mix of confusion and caution. The unexpected nature of the encounter prompts a wave of doubt about Arthur‘s intentions. “For all I know, you‘re gonna murder me because you don‘t know him and just pretend.”

Arthur lets out a hearty laugh, a sound that echoes across the terrace. “If I wanted to hurt you, don‘t you think I‘d already have done that?” he retorts, the humour in his tone attempting to diffuse the tension.

The acknowledgement of your shared perspective brings a momentary alignment of understanding. “But you get why I‘m sceptical, right?” you press, seeking reassurance in the face of the unknown.

Arthur‘s laughter rumbles through the air again, seems inconsistent with the seriousness of the situation. “Sure, alright, listen. I can just prove to you that I know my little brother, alright.”

“Okay, go ahead,” you say, a glimmer of curiosity mingling with your scepticism.

“When he drank coffee at your place, he almost spat it out – he told me it was one of the most vile things he‘s ever drunk, and he really doesn‘t understand how we can drink it - and how you can call your coffee a good roast ,” Arthur reveals, a grin playing on his face.

A surprised chuckle escapes you, realising that Arthur‘s story is an accurate retelling of your and Orm‘s first breakfast together. “I didn‘t know he thought it was that bad,” you admit, laughter bubbling up at the unexpected revelation.

“Oh, he hates it,” Arthur laughs, his deep voice resonating with amusement. “But he really likes that fruit tea you have,” he adds, a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He finds it funny that you and his brother are so smitten with each other.

You smile, feeling a warmth spreading through you. Clearing your throat, you say, “Well, Arthur, you just earned yourself a cup of coffee in my humble home. Come in.”

You head inside, leaving the door ajar for Arthur to accompany you.

He follows you into the house, his gaze wandering around the living room and open kitchen. As you prepare coffee for both of you and a cup of tea for Orm, Arthur‘s attention is drawn to the aquarium. Colourful fish gracefully move through the water, creating a captivating display.

Setting the mugs on the table, you join him by the aquarium. “It‘s a passion of mine,” you say, gesturing toward the fish gliding through the water. “Helps bring some life into the place.”

Arthur nods, his eyes still fixed on the mesmerising dance of the aquatic life. “I can see the appeal. Orm never mentioned you had such a lively home.”

You chuckle, “Well, surprises are always good, right?”

Arthur smirks, “Indeed. So, where‘s Orm? Still asleep?”

“He is,” you reply, “I didn‘t want to disturb him. Plus, I wasn‘t sure if waking him abruptly for a family reunion was the best idea.”

Arthur chuckles, “Fair point. I appreciate you being understanding about this.”

As you lead Arthur to the table, both of you take a seat, the morning light streaming through the windows casting a warm glow on the room. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the comforting scent of tea, creating an inviting atmosphere.

The conversation flows smoothly, and you start to feel more at ease with Arthur‘s presence. He talks about his life, sharing snippets of his experiences - you find out that he‘s married with a kid.

It becomes evident that despite the differences, there‘s a shared thread of love for the sea that ties the siblings together.

After a while, Arthur‘s eyes wander to the sea glass on the table. “Interesting choice of décor,” he remarks, picking it up and examining it.

You smile, recalling the moment when you found it on the beach. “It‘s a little souvenir. Reminded me of Orm.”

Arthur nods, his gaze thoughtful. “You know, he‘s not one to easily let people in. Must‘ve seen something special in you.”

You blush at the compliment, feeling a mix of warmth and appreciation.

As the conversation progresses, you discover more about Arthur, finding him to be not only funny but also kind. He delves into anecdotes about his child‘s antics and shares tales of odd jobs he‘s worked.

The warm atmosphere changes when Orm enters the kitchen. You eagerly go to greet him, excited to see him, but his expression stops you in your tracks.

Instead of the usual calm demeanour, Orm is seething with anger.

His brows are furrowed, and his normally serene eyes now burn with an intense fury akin to a storm raging beneath the surface.

The soft blue eyes that you love looking into have turned into a cold and cloudy hue. It feels as though you are looking into the heart of the storm, waves of fury rising and falling with a savage rhythm, crashing against each other like warring titans engaged in an eternal struggle.

The lines on his forehead deepen as he directs a stern gaze towards Arthur, whose presence has triggered this unexpected reaction.

You have never seen him like that.

Orm‘s anger is palpable, radiating off him like waves of heat. His clenched fists and completely tense posture speak volumes, signalling a storm about to unleash its wrath. His broad shoulders are rigid, every muscle coiled with tension.

You feel your heart beating in your chest, a mix of concern and confusion enveloping you. You‘re not sure how to react.

But before you can even utter a word, Orm curtly nods towards Arthur, his jaw clenched. The silent message is crystal clear – this is not the time for pleasantries. Without further ado, Orm guides him outside, the door closing behind them.

As you stand in the kitchen, you can‘t help but notice the drastic shift in the atmosphere. The air feels tense, and you can‘t help but wonder what transpired to provoke such a reaction from Orm.

You observe them through the glass door, the transparency offering a distorted lens into the unfolding scene.

Orm‘s expression has contorted into a visage of frustration. His brows are furrowed, and the anger etched on his face transforms him, turning him into someone feral.

On the other side, Arthur appears to be caught off guard by Orm‘s reaction. He stands with a mix of surprise and contrition, facing the verbal onslaught from his brother.

Through the closed door, you catch fragments of Orm‘s voice. The tone is heated, and you can sense the palpable tension in the air.

You hear his voice, sharp and reproachful, berating Arthur for showing up unannounced. The words come in bits and pieces, like the distant echoes of a conversation carried by the wind. The door muffles the sound, leaving you with only intermittent snippets of the exchange.

“Arthur, you can‘t just...” Orm‘s voice pierces through the door, each word laden with reproach.

You see Arthur talking back but can‘t understand what he‘s saying.

“...eat a cockroach, Arthur!” Orm‘s voice surges, and you can almost feel the exasperation in his shove when his hands press against Arthur‘s chest, pushing him back a step.

Arthur‘s reaction is a mix of shock and indignation. His eyes widen, and he instinctively recoils from the force of the shove, a flicker of surprise crossing his features before finding his footing again.

Orm‘s voice escalates, slicing through the air with a sharp sense of accusation, punctuating his words with another forceful shove.

“...took my throne, my betrothed, and now my peace of mind!” Orm‘s voice carries a weight of bitterness and resentment, the gravity of his words hitting you like a sudden tempest.

Wait what?

The unexpected revelation leaves you stunned, grappling with the realisation that there are layers to Orm‘s turmoil that extend beyond the immediate situation.

As the tension between Orm and Arthur reaches a boiling point, Arthur‘s composure begins to crack. His anger builds, evident in the tightening of his jaw and the fire that sparks in his eyes.

Arthur‘s accusatory words, dripping with frustration, reverberate through the room like an unspoken challenge, “What‘s your problem, Orm?”

He not only responds with words but also looks like he‘s ready to hit back, his fists clenched and posture shifting into a defensive stance when a flicker of realisation seems to cross his face.

“You never told her, did you?” he accuses Orm, his words laden with disbelief. His tone takes a sharper edge, and the words pierce the air like a dagger.

Your heart beats rapidly in your chest, caught in the whirlwind of emotions and uncertainty. He spoke about a fiance, and now there‘s something he never told you?

The bits and pieces of the argument you manage to overhear only serve to deepen your confusion. Determined to seek clarity, you take a deep breath, summoning courage, and make the decision to step outside.

The chilly air nips at your skin, and you‘re met with the intense atmosphere that hangs between Orm and Arthur.

Determined to understand the roots of this conflict, you inquire, “What‘s going on?”

Orm remains silent, his features etched with reluctance and a hint of frustration. It‘s clear he‘s not eager to divulge the details.

Arthur, seemingly less concerned about the secrecy, interjects with a tone that swings between nonchalance and urgency, “We‘re from Atlantis. He was the Ocean Master, the king of Atlantis. But he lost it all. Too hungry for power, and I had to step in to fix the mess. And now I have to deal with the Council of Houses that want my ass.”

“Sure. And I‘m the Chinese emperor.,” you say in disbelief, the sarcasm dripping from your words. Your gaze shifts to Orm, who avoids your eyes and still appears visibly angered, with frustration and regret emanating from him.

The growing anger inside you prompts you to confront Orm directly, “You won‘t tell me what‘s really going on, Orm?” You don‘t know what‘s worse: Orm just being silent or Arthur lying to you.

“Shit, I am not lying,” Arthur exclaims, his frustration matching yours. “Orm, this is your woman, fucking tell her the truth.”

Orm finally meets your eyes, and you swallow nervously. His expression shifts to remorseful; the once-angry blue eyes now reflect sadness and uncertainty.

“Orm?” you say quietly, a plea for honesty and transparency.

“I‘m Atlantean - so is he. He didn‘t lie,” he begins, running his hand through his hair. “I have never been to the surface before...and -”

Arthur interjects with a hint of playfulness, “Look, we can breathe underwater, and I can talk to fish. The ones in your living room told me some interesting things about you two a few days ago.”

“Arthur, please,” Orm says, a mix of exasperation and concern in his tone.

At this point, you‘re just confused. You don‘t know what to believe. Surely, they must be lying. There is no way in hell Atlantis is real - it seems preposterous, Yet the sincerity in Orm‘s eyes challenges your scepticism.

Arthur somehow senses that you need some proof, and realising Orm is not in a state to do something, he strides back into the house. The urgency in his movements compels you and Orm to follow, caught in a whirlwind of confusion and disbelief.

Once inside, Arthur doesn‘t waste a moment. His eyes, now with a peculiar yellow gleam, fixate on the aquarium as he approaches.

You watch in amazement as the aquatic inhabitants respond to him. They swim in intricate patterns, almost as if following a choreographed dance. Some even seem to perform playful flips in the water, creating a surreal spectacle.

Arthur, with a mischievous glint in his eyes, turns to you and grins. “Impressive, huh?”

You find it hard to fathom the reality unfolding before you.

“Atlantis is a fun place,” Arthur continues, undeterred by the incredulous atmosphere. “Full of politics, underwater cities, and, well, talking fish.”

The surreal scene in your living room challenges the very fabric of your understanding, leaving you grappling with the notion that Atlantis, a mythical realm, might be more than just a legend.

As Arthur‘s words linger in the air, you‘re faced with the undeniable truth that the world you thought you knew is just the surface of a much deeper and more complex reality.

Your attention shifts to Orm standing beside you. As he reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder, you turn around, your voice a mix of hurt and confusion. “Were you ever going to tell me?”

Your heart thumps loudly in your chest - this is not how you envisioned the morning unfolding. Hell, you had placed trust in Orm, and you genuinely like him. However, you‘re uncertain about what this revelation means for you.

The room seems to tighten with tension, and Orm‘s response is palpably strained. “I was going to, in due time.”

The weight of his words lingers in the air, leaving you standing on shaky ground. Uncertainty creeps in, and you‘re left to grapple with the implications of this newfound knowledge. The man you thought you knew harbours a secret world beneath the surface, a world you were blissfully unaware of until now.

Feeling the need to collect your thoughts, you excuse yourself, stammering out something about needing a moment. Hastily making your way to the bedroom, you close the door behind you, the muffled sounds of conversation still audible from the other room.

As the weight of the revelation bears down on you, you find yourself overwhelmed by a rising tide of emotions.

Panic tightens its grip around your chest, and you can feel the telltale signs of an impending attack. Placing your head in your hands, you try to steady your breathing, attempting to navigate the storm of conflicting thoughts and emotions swirling within you as the room feels suffocating.

As the door creaks open, Orm enters the room, his footsteps measured and purposeful, his demeanour carrying a palpable sense of remorse. The soft click of the closing door resonates in the air as he crosses the threshold, his gaze meeting yours with a mix of regret and genuine concern.

His movements are deliberate, each step echoing the weight of emotions he carries. Without hesitation, he gracefully kneels down, his hand extending to rest on your back, a comforting touch that conveys both warmth and strength.

“Hey, it‘s going to be okay. Just take a breath, honey,” his voice is a soothing cadence, every word chosen with care.

You observe the furrow in his brow and the slight slump of his shoulders, evidence of the burden he shares with you in this moment. His presence feels like a reassuring anchor amidst the tumult of emotions.

Attempting to steady your breath, panic tightens its grip on you, “I can‘t, I can‘t-” Your words falter, caught in the throes of distress.

His voice assumes a rhythmic flow, guiding you through the storm of emotions. The deliberate pace of his words creates a sense of order within the chaos, each syllable serving as a lifeline. With each uttered phrase, you sense a gradual easing of panic, his words acting as a balm for your distressed mind.

His large hands gently brush over your cheeks and hair, reaching wherever they can. The warmth of his touch is palpable. You find solace in the softness of his fingertips and the sincerity etched in his gaze.

“You‘re doing so well, honey. Just keep breathing. I‘m here with you. You‘re safe. Inhale slowly... and exhale,” Orm‘s voice continues its calming effect, a steady stream of reassurance that envelops you like a protective cocoon.

He talks you through the panic attack, guiding you with words that carry the warmth of understanding and reassurance.

With each carefully chosen phrase, Orm helps you navigate the tempest within. The room, once suffocating, begins to loosen its grip as Orm‘s presence becomes a source of comfort and support, helping you weather the emotional storm.

You manage a shaky breath and look at Orm, gratitude in your eyes.

“Thank you, Orm. I... I didn‘t expect all of this,” you admit, your voice carrying a mix of vulnerability and appreciation.

“I know, and I‘m sorry,” he reassures, cradling your face in his hand. His blue eyes shine with worry and tenderness, a testament to his commitment to being there for you.

You observe him close his eyes, taking in a shaky breath before reopening them. He appears on the verge of tears as he apologises once again.

Instinctively, you wrap your arms around Orm. Tears held back for too long stream down your face, a release of the pent-up emotions that have been coursing through you.

Orm responds with a gentle understanding, reciprocating by wrapping one arm around you in a protective hold. With his other hand, he tenderly wipes away the tears that cascade down your cheeks, and you feel the comforting touch of his fingers on your face.

As you remain wrapped in Orm‘s embrace, you become keenly aware of the rhythmic thudding of his heart against your chest. His shaky breaths resonate in the quiet space, a testament to the emotional intensity of the moment.

In response to the palpable tremor in his breath, you softly whisper, your words a gentle reassurance, “Everything will be alright, Orm. We‘ll get through this together.” The words uttered in a hushed tone carry the weight of sincerity, weaving a sense of comfort into the shared space.

Feeling Orm‘s tightening embrace, as if he fears you might slip away, you reciprocate the gesture, bringing your arms to cup his face gently.

As you lift his gaze to meet yours, you see the aftermath of the emotional storm in his eyes. They swim with unshed tears, and the intensity of the blue is almost overwhelming. His bottom lip trembles with the weight of the shared emotions, and you can sense the vulnerability etched across his features.

Your touch on his face is both a grounding presence and an assurance that you‘re here, steadfast and unwavering.

It is at that moment that you realise that you‘re falling in love with him.

Despite lingering anger about the concealment of his Atlantean identity and Atlantis itself, you know that he didn‘t do it out of bad intentions. He did it because he was afraid, and you know that feeling all too well.

With a gentle yet firm touch, your hand buries itself in Orm‘s blonde hair, fingers tangling in the soft strands. The kiss that follows is soft, tender, and brimming with a vulnerability that binds you both.

Orm responds to the kiss, and his vulnerability meets with your own as the unsheared tears in his eyes glisten.

Breaking the kiss, he tenderly smooths your hair away from your face, apologising, “I‘m so sorry. I didn‘t mean to tell you like that.”

“I know,” you assure him, your voice carrying a soothing tone as you lean in to place a gentle kiss on his forehead. “I know.��

“I‘m glad you know now, for all that‘s worth,” a small smile graces his lips.

“I‘m glad too. It does explain a few things,” you chuckle. “I‘m looking forward to showing you more surface things - now you can actually tell me what you haven‘t seen before.”

He laughs at that, a full-blown grin spreading across his face, reaching his eyes.

“I‘m genuinely excited to see more with you,” Orm admits, his eyes reflecting a genuine curiosity and eagerness. “And I promise not to keep any Atlantean secrets this time.”

“I‘ll hold you to that, King Orm,” you share a playful smirk, “Or do you want me to call you Ocean Master?”

His head snaps up at that, and his eyes darken with a feral intensity that makes you swallow dryly. He holds your gaze for a few seconds before surging up, capturing your lips in a searing kiss.

That was not the reaction you wanted, but you‘re not complaining, you think.

You whine into the kiss as Orm‘s hands cradle your face, his touch both gentle and possessive. It‘s as if he‘s imprinting the kiss with a promise, and the raw passion sends a surge of electricity through your veins.

The kiss deepens, the feral intensity transforming into a potent blend of desire and longing. Orm‘s lips move with a rhythmic urgency, leaving little room for doubt or hesitation.

His fingers thread through your hair, a tactile exploration that sends shivers down your spine. Each touch, each caress, is a language of its own, conveying unspoken promises and a shared hunger for connection.

Breaking away, Orm rests his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the shared space.

Orm‘s eyes, still darkened with desire, lock onto yours with an intensity that leaves you breathless. His thumb traces your lower lip, a lingering touch that ignites a spark of anticipation.

“I didn‘t expect you to call me Ocean Master,” he remarks, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You laugh softly, still a bit breathless, “Well, you do seem to enjoy it.”

“Perhaps I do,” a wicked gleam enters Orm‘s eyes, and he bites down on your bottom lip before leaving a warm trail along your jawline.

Orm‘s movements are both tender and possessive, making you gasp beneath him. His touch leaves a trail of heat, a tantalising promise of more to come.

As he continues his journey, his hands find their way to the small of your back, pulling you closer. The room seems to shrink around you as Orm‘s body presses against yours, the closeness igniting a delicious ache of desire.

Orm‘s breath, warm and steady, fans over your skin, sending shivers down your spine. The scent of him, a mix of sea and musk, envelops you, adding to the intoxicating atmosphere.

You feel arousal pumping through your veins and driven by pure instinct, you lean up and whisper in his ear, “Or do you prefer to be called my king.”

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bright-and-burning · 5 months

Text

i was pretty sure in-competition vs out-of-competition drug testing had different rules from following track and field doping scandals. and i was right! and then i accidentally dug a little too deep into doping regulations so. here's some fun info on anti-doping & motorsports (& how allowed doing drugs is) below the cut (you could perhaps call this a ~primer~ if you wanted)

i'm going off of the FIA's anti-doping regulations (appendix a to the international sporting code, this is from 2017 but it gets the gist across (and doesn't require a download). i checked it against the 2021 version and nothing i referenced changed significantly; click on the "appendix a" link here to download the 2021 version) and the world anti-doping code international standard prohibited list (link is to the 2024 list but i don't think things have changed very much over the years).

the appendix was only added to the international sporting code in 2010, so i can't speak to anything before then.

the FIA link is 69 pages long and also not an easy read BUT from what i can tell their testing works the same as any other international sport's (so if you're looking for a simpler read on the general process than the FIA's code, check out this wiki page on biological passports and the world anti-doping agency (WADA)'s pretty simple anti-doping process page here).

substances

the important part (to me, at least) is article 4: prohibited list and international standards. this is the bit that says what drugs you can and can't do.

it essentially boils down to "the WADA list applies. and also a few other things."

the few others things here are specifically alcohol and beta-blockers. alcohol for drunk driving reasons, beta-blockers because they lower heart rates and reduce tremors (they're banned in many sports that require high accuracy, like motorsports but also archery and golf).

the WADA list is broken down into two main parts: substances & methods prohibited at all times, and substances & methods prohibited in-competition

substances prohibited at all times

these are things like anabolic agents, peptide hormones, growth factors, beta-2 agonists, hormone and metabolic modulators, and diuretics and masking agents (you can explore more in depth here if you're interested).

basically, what i typically think of when i think of doping. the stereotype of bodybuilders taking steroids, you know. not the fun stuff.

substances prohibited in-competition

these are probably what people are more interested in hearing about (especially fic writers). these are stimulants, narcotics, cannabinoids, and glucocorticoids. i will admit to never having heard of glucocorticoids by that name before this (they are steroids used to treat asthma, inflammation, allergies, etc).

these include things like cocaine, adderall and other stimulants commonly used to treat adhd, ecstasy, weed, heroin, oxycodone, and so on.

once again see here for more info; if you're looking for something specific, go to the index and use what page it points you to as a guide. ecstasy, for example, is not listed by name as ecstasy on page 14 (stimulants prohibited in-competition but not out of competition), but if you look in the index, the ecstasy listing points you towards page 14 (where it's referred to by its 'chemical' name), marking it as a stimulant only prohibited in-competition. you might have to google your drug of choice to find other names for it.

in-competition, by the way, is defined as "the period commencing just before midnight (at 11:59 p.m.) on the day before a competition in which the Athlete is scheduled to participate until the end of the competition and the sample collection process." ie 11:59pm the night before right up to after you pee in the cup. assuming competition includes free practice, this period would be wednesday at 11:59pm to sunday after the race.

obviously you can get a therapeutic use exemption, where your doctor says "yeah they need this banned substance for this reason." it's more complicated than that, and there's a lot of paperwork and different agencies' approval involved, but that's the gist of it. this is, for example, how simone biles is allowed to take adhd medication despite those being prohibited in-competition.

the testing method itself isn't explicitly identified in the 2021 code, but it mentions blood and urine testing as options in a footnote. the 2017 code treats urine testing as the automatic option (and lays out the specifics of how that should occur quite explicitly), and blood testing as an alternative or optional addition.

different drugs stay in your system for different lengths of time. cocaine can show up on saliva & blood tests for up to two days, and on urine tests for up to three. weed's urine testing window can be as long as 30 days (depending on frequency of use). and so on. so risk levels vary!

sanctions stuff

you can get hit with sanctions for tampering with tests, evading tests, etc, but i'm gonna talk about specifically sanctions for testing positive because i feel like that's more interesting and relevant than going into sanctions for missing tests three times in twelve months (but if you are interested, read through the FIA's code).

they make special note of what they call "specified substances." these are substances that are "more like to have been consumed or used by an athlete for a purpose other than the enhancement of sport performance" aka fun drugs as opposed to performance enhancers. pretty much all of the in-competition banned ones are specified substances. notable exception here is cocaine. cocaine (and some other stimulants) are not specified substances. you can see which specific substances are specified here.

the definition of "specified substances" above is pretty much just used for sanctions reasons. it kind of helps determine who the burden of proof falls on.

nitty gritty sanctions stuff

the rest of this post gets into the nitty gritty of sanctions (feel free to skip this bit). motorsports has so few violations at the top level (like, to the point where anti-doping lab people are quoted as being genuinely amazed by how clean everyone is) that this kind of thing hasn't really played out (or at least, not since the FIA started working with WADA. or as far as i know). this is different from just about every other sport i've Ever paid any kind of attention to.

this part would honestly make a really solid flowchart. it makes for a pretty rough primer. it is so confusing, but hopefully i make it even a tiny bit more clear than the FIA's code.

there's quite a few cases here, and they're all kind of complicated:

if the violation involved a specified substance, the FIA has to prove it was intentional use to hit the violator with a four year "period of ineligibility," which i will refer to as a ban throughout for ease.

if the violation does not involve a specified substance, the athlete has to prove it wasn't an intentional use to avoid a four year ban.

the two cases above are what i see as the general cases. if a violation doesn't fall under any of the below cases, then it falls back into those. they're the "if not anything else, then these."

a violation for a substance only prohibited in-competition can be ruled not intentional if it is a specified substance and the athlete can prove that it was used out-of-competition, or if it is not a specified substance and the athlete can prove it was used out-of-competition in a context unrelated to performance.

aka (this is an extremely handwavey and flippant example for demonstration purposes only) if they test positive for ecstasy (specified substance), but they can prove they used it at the club for a good time, then it's not intentional. if they test positive for cocaine (not a specified substance), but they can prove they used it at the club and specifically for fun not for performance, then it's not intentional.

if intent isn't there, and none of the other options i go into below apply, you get a two year ban (as far as i can figure it out).

intentional use is specifically "meant to identify those athletes who cheat," basically doing it knowing it was a rule violation/carried a risk of being a rule violation and disregarding the risk (paraphrased from the FIA).

if the violation involves a substance of abuse as specified by WADA here, and the driver can establish that the use occurred out-of-competition and wasn't related to performance, then they get a three month ban. furthermore, if the driver completes an FIA-approved substance of abuse treatment program, then that ban will be reduced to one month.

if the violation involves a substance of abuse and it occurred in-competition, but the driver can prove it wasn't related to performance, then the violation'll be considered not intentional, and is therefore (as far as i can tell) subject to a two year ban.

if the driver can prove they bear no fault or negligence (literally Zero), then whatever ban they would've gotten will go away. this is REALLY hard though; the document states that it "will only apply in exceptional circumstances, for example, where a Driver could prove that, despite all due care, he or she was sabotaged by a competitor."

Conversely, it says that this no fault case wouldn't apply if: a) they consumed a mislabeled/contaminated vitamin or supplement (drivers are responsible for what they ingest), b) their personal trainer/physician gave it to them without explaining what it was (drivers are responsible for their choice of medical personnel), c) sabotage of their food or drink "by a spouse, coach or other person within the driver’s circle of associates (drivers are responsible for what they ingest and for the conduct of those persons to whom they entrust access to their food and drink)." In these scenarios, however, they could potentially use the no significant fault or negligence cases outlined directly below.

if the violation involves a specified substance (but not a substance of abuse), and the driver can prove no significant fault or negligence, then the consequences will be somewhere between a reprimand and a two year ban depending on how at fault they are.

if they can prove both no significant fault/negligence AND that the detected substance came from a contaminated product, then the consequences will be between somewhere between a reprimand and a two year ban depending on how at fault they are. (as an aside, i'm pretty sure this is the out that shelby houlihan tried to use when she tested positive for an anabolic steroid and blamed it on a pork burrito from a food truck).

to be able to use this out, the driver has to prove separately that a) the substance came from the contaminated product and b) they aren't significantly at fault.

these are, as far as i can tell, all of the potential violation cases the FIA's code has articles for. they align with other sports' regulatory bodies' rules, in my (limited) experience.

i hope this was at least a little interesting and informative! (it certainly was for me). thanks for reading :)

several disclaimers here: i make NO promises abt this being perfectly accurate bc it IS me interpreting the FIA's code. and this is nowhere near my area of expertise (i am not a doctor or a lawyer or anything else relevant to this. i am just a nerd with adhd and a whole lot of time). but i did my best ! and i think it's a solid stone's throw at accurate.

and also to be clear if they do coke in fic on thursday night or whatever for the plot or the vibes im still here for it. this is not me requiring pitch-perfect accuracy on doping violations in fic (and all of this info will probably drain out of my brain by saturday); it's (hopefully) a resource!

#hey friends adhd goes crazy. i found myself reading thru anti-doping regulations at like 1am and decided to be Productive about it #have fun go crazy do cocaine but only out-of-competition!#f1 primer #i Guess. i still hesitate to call it that.#mine #mine.primer

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Text

Firehouse Harrington - Chapter 5

fireman!Steve x f!reader/f!oc

series masterlist

Steve is still recovering from his injuries. She's just trying to help. But tensions run high when they clash over who knows best.

warnings | 18+ SMUT, really rough sex, degradation kink, slight dubcon, also angst because, duh

a/n | wooh boy! I got a little carried away here, folks. Had the day off and couldn't help myself. get yourself a tall glass of water and sit down for a long one

“You’re healing nicely, son. I’ll send another refill script to your pharmacy for the oxycodone and I wanna see you back in a month, alright? Wanna keep an eye on those headaches you’re having.” Steve grunts out a thank you to the doctor as he’s led back to the front desk. After three weeks, he’s still not used to seeing her, sitting and waiting for him after his appointments at the VA medical center. She’s been coming with him whenever she can and he would hate to admit how much it means to him.

She offers him a bright smile from where she’s sitting in the waiting room, a large stack of index cards in her lap. With Thanksgiving next week, her exams are fast-approaching and she’s been studying so hard it makes Steve worry that she’s working herself to the bone, and that he hasn’t exactly been helping her stress-load. Since the week after Halloween, she’s all but moved in with him, save for when her RA job or classes demand she be on campus. She’s been taking care of him, and it both amazes and terrifies Steve that she’s willing to, while all he can really do is be a human rolodex for her endless supply of flashcards. She’s been having him quiz her in the evenings, her hands around his neck and her thighs straddling his waist as she rattles off insanely-smart sounding descriptions of the brain. His girl is studying neuroscience, and his girl is going to be a doctor, and then, Steve figures, his girl isn’t going to be his girl anymore. But for now, he’ll enjoy whatever sweetness she’ll give to him.

He finishes scheduling his follow-up, turning and finding her already standing with her bag slung over her shoulder. He opens the door for her and they step out into the sharp bite of the oncoming winter.

“Well, what did he say?” Steve’s apartment is only a few blocks away from the medical center, so they set off down the sidewalk as she asks her question.

“Said everything looks good. My next appointment is in a month, gave me another prescription for the painkillers.” He feels her hand flex in his and he knows it’s because she doesn’t like the sound of that.

“What about your headaches?” He shrugs, glancing at her and seeing the worried look on her face.

“He said he’d keep an eye on it, whatever that means.” She stops in her tracks, fully looking at him now. He just sighs.

“Steve, I really don’t like how they’re just feeding you these pills. Has anyone said anything about getting you in an MRI machine?” He huffs, tugging her along to continue walking.

“Baby, it’s fine. Nothing new, really. Once I get back to work it’ll go away on its own, it always does.” His paid-time-off is ending after Thanksgiving, and Steve is chomping at the bit to get back into the station, to her much-vocalized dismay. She stops walking again, and he tries his best to tamp down his growing frustration.

“I still think you should let me–” “No.” “Steve.”

“No. You’ve already done way too much for me. I’m not letting you do that.”

“You would be helping me out by coming in. You know I need the practice, i-it’d be killing two birds with one stone.” She had told him two weeks ago about one of her specialty courses at the university medical center, conducting brain scans and assessments that were free to volunteer patients. She had been bugging Steve about coming in ever since, but he was putting his foot down on this one.

“Hey, I’m sick of all this nagging, alright? I told you it’s fine and I meant it. Making my fucking headache worse, jesus. Just wanna get home.” He can see her face crumple at his words and his stomach twists, but he’s too pissed off and cold to really feel sorry, instead squeezing her hand and continuing their walk home. She’s silent the rest of the way.

…

Steve is really starting to worry her. At first, he had seemed to be making a change, being endlessly sweet with her, letting her take care of him, even opening up a bit about his life. She knows his concussion symptoms are lasting well within a normal amount of time, but it seems like some of them are getting worse. He’s been more irritable, more reactive, his headaches are endless, but he won’t listen to a word she says about it. She had talked to Robin over the phone about it, and she had told her his irritability could also be stemming from the impending holiday. Steve wasn’t exactly on good terms with his family, something he had only hinted at to her, and hadn’t been home for Thanksgiving or Christmas in five years. As a result, he turned into a bit of a scrooge (Robin’s words) the instant that the holiday season kicked up.

Perhaps more than anything though, she doesn’t understand why he’s so eager to get back to work after he nearly died on the job. She had actually started inquiring at her school about admittance for veterans, reading whatever information she could get her hands on. It’d be practically free at a state school like Indiana University, with vets nearly sure to be accepted. She hadn’t yet broached the subject with him, knowing it’d probably lead to a huge blowout argument, but she had convinced him to do Thanksgiving with her, just the two of them, and was planning to get him good and sedated on turkey and stuffing before bringing it up.

When they get back to his place after his appointment, he barely looks at her, mumbling that he’s going to lie down for a while. She already knows he’s going to be looking for his bottle of oxycodone, which she had flushed down the toilet that morning. She had talked to one of her supervising professors about the medication, posing questions from a place of clinical curiosity, and had learned just how wickedly potent the stuff was. Steve shouldn’t have been on it for more than a week max, and it was now coming up on a month of doctors filling the prescription for him. She had decided then and there that she was going to get him off it, kicking and screaming if she had to.

She sits down on the couch, pressing her fingers into her temples and waiting for his inevitable question about where his pills are. She can hear him rummaging in the bathroom, and then in the nightstands in his bedroom. All of the sudden, his movements still, and she can hear his bare feet padding back into the living room. Her heart sinks when she sees that he’s holding the pamphlets she had gathered about veteran’s admission to IU in his hand. She must have left them in the nightstand on her side of his bed. Shit. His expression is cool, steeled, as he waves the pamphlets in front of her.

“Care to tell me what this is?” Her mouth had gone completely dry, and a thickness settled in her throat.

“Um, I– um–” He cuts her off, shuffling over to stand in front of her, bending at the waist to get in her space.

“Um, um, um. C’mon, miss college. Thought you were a big girl. Use your words.” He’s practically sneering at her with the way he’s talking and it makes her feel impossibly small under his flashing gaze. She gulps a deep breath, trying to steady herself.

“Steve, I’m just trying to help–” He scoffs, standing back upright and starting to pace the floor.

“You think you know what’s best for me? Think you’re so much smarter than me, huh? Gotta help your poor, stupid boyfriend get along, is that it?” She shakes her head vigorously, going to stand but he’s back on her in an instant, resting his hands on the back of the couch to cage her between his arms. She shrinks back into the seat.

“That’s not what I think, Steve. I-I just want you to have options, that’s it! All I did was ask around in the admissions office, it doesn’t mean a-anything, baby. I just thought it’d be helpful for you.” He lets out a humorless laugh, his sharp eyes fixing her in place.

“Well it’s not. Quit trying to mess with shit you don’t understand.” With that he’s turning heel so fast it makes her choke, storming back into the bedroom. A beat later she starts hearing loud clattering.

“Where are my fucking pills? Goddamnit!” She jumps in her seat at his roaring words, punctuated by the sound of what she assumes is one of his nightstands getting thrown on the floor. She sits there for a moment trying to steady her breathing, the continuous sounds of slamming drawers and muttered curses coming from Steve causing her heart to jump. Finally, all the commotion stills and she thinks to herself that she liked it better when he was at least making sound.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, she slowly stands, inching towards the bedroom on tenterhooks. She holds onto the doorframe, peering into the room. Both nightstands are tipped onto the floor, their drawers skewed open and the contents strewn on the floor. The wooden bureau that sits across from Steve’s bed has been shoved a few inches out of place, its drawers all open and the clothes usually neatly folded inside in various states of spilling out. Steve’s sitting on the edge of the bed, tugging harshly at the roots of his hair, his chest heaving. She really doesn’t want to do what she’s about to have to. She inches into the room, kneeling down in front of him to try to catch his gaze. She reaches out for him but he swats her hand away.

“Don’t. Fuck, baby. Don’t know where I put my damn pills. I-I need ‘em so bad right now.” His voice is a broken grumble and she feels a sharp twinge in her stomach at his words. It’s time to rip the band-aid off.

“Steve, baby? I know your head’s hurting, but you can’t keep taking those, ok? Why don’t I get you some advil? I know it’s not the same, but we can do that combined with tylenol and it should start to help.” He finally looks at her, and the anger in his eyes is breathtaking, causing her to sit back on her haunches.

“What did you do with them?” She takes a sharp breath in, watching Steve’s knuckles go white where he’s still tugging at his hair. She’s not going to let him scare her, not on this. She squares her shoulders, slowly standing in front of him. She hates that there’s still a warble in her voice when she finally speaks.

“I-I threw them away, Steve. They’re no good for you, and that has become painfully clear this afternoon.” His jaw goes slack at her words, but he quickly catches himself, swallowing hard and glaring up at her.

“Well, that’s not really your decision to make, sweetie.” He stands, brushing past her out towards the front door, starting to toe on his shoes. She follows dumbly behind him.

“Where are you going?” He doesn’t even glance at her, already shrugging on his coat.

“The pharmacy. Gonna get my new prescription since someone has to make everything so goddamn difficult.” She swallows hard.

“I-I called the pharmacy this morning too. Told them that under no circumstances should they fill any more oxy scripts for you. Steve, please–” He lets out a bark of laugh that startles her where she stands, whistling low as he finally sizes her up.

“You are something else, bunny. Really think you know better than me, don’t ya?” He’s started slinking towards her, causing her to back up until she’s pressing up against the wall. He presses a forearm up by her temple, leaning into her. She’s trying to not dissolve on the spot.

“Steve, that’s not what this is about. I-I talked with one of my professors about those pills. He told me it's some of the nastiest stuff out there. People get addicted to them all the time. Please, I just wanna help you.” His other hand has come down to grip her hip harshly, his fingers flexing into the skin and sure to leave bruises.

“Stop sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong and stop trying to play doctor on me. You wanna help? Here’s how you can help. If you’re so hell-bent on taking away my pills, my relief, I think it’s only fair you make it up to me, don’t you?” She’s trying to steady her breathing, but can’t help the light gasps that rise as Steve nudges the slope of her neck with his nose. He harshly grabs her jaw, forcing her gaze to focus on his steely expression. She hates that there’s already a simmering heat trailing down her spine.

“Words, now.”

“O-okay, Steve. I’ll m-make it up to you, w-whatever you want, baby. I’m s-s-sorry.” His smile is slick, not reaching his eyes.

“Want you on your knees, pretty. Can you do that? Be good for me and do what you’re told, for once.”

“Yes, Steve–” He cuts her off with a sharp squeeze to her jaw that makes her whimper.

“Not my name. Not right now.”

“Yes, daddy. I’ll be good for you.” Part of her wants to leave, just grab her bag and go. But she’s fixed to the spot by the way he’s looking at her. She figures it’ll be quick, a rough blowjob and then Steve will finally calm down, so she complies, kneeling down in front of him while he starts working at his belt buckle.

She goes to reach for his hips when he starts to unzip his jeans but he immediately swats her hands away.

“Uh-uh. You don’t get to touch. You don’t even get to think. That pretty head of yours has done enough thinking for a while. Just gotta sit there, open your mouth, and take it, you understand?” She nods as he comes behind her, drawing both her wrists back. When she feels the soft leather of his belt circling her wrists she shudders. She winces when he tugs the loop tight.

“C’mon, if you’re so smart why don’t you use your fucking words?” She gasps when he pulls on the belt, making her fall back onto her ass, her back crashing into his heaving chest.

“Yes, daddy. I understand.” Her voice doesn’t sound like her own anymore, entering that higher, breathier register that she knows only Steve can draw out. He grunts at that, squeezing her hips to help her back onto her knees before he’s getting up and coming back in front of her. He slips his jeans and boxers down just enough to tug his cock out, already hard as he fists himself. Stepping forward, he cards his fingers through her hair, tugging harshly to tilt her face up towards him.

“Open your mouth, bunny. You better be good for me.” She complies, letting her jaw slacken and Steve’s on her in an instant, forcing his thick cock past her lips as he holds onto her hair for leverage. She can’t help the small, sputtering chokes that come out around his length as he already begins fucking her mouth, getting deeper with each thrust. Normally, he’d give her time to work her way up to taking all of him, it wasn’t exactly an option to just go for it with his length if she didn’t want to gag. But Steve didn’t seem too concerned with that today, already grazing her throat with his tip.

“Fuck– that’s perfect– just take it, bunny– s’what your pretty little mouth is made for– don’t want you thinking– shit– or talking– just keep your lips around my cock all the time, huh?” She can’t exactly respond to his degrading words with the way he’s dragging her mouth up and down his cock, his fist in her hair guiding her. But she guesses he’s not really looking for a reply.

“What would your little egghead professors think– shit, take it– if they knew their star student spent her time sucking dick like a f-fucking whore, huh?” His words sting, but she hates to admit that they send a clenching ache right through her core too. Unfortunately, Steve seems to notice the way her thighs are clenching at his words and he lets out a jeering laugh.

“Aw, you like that, bunny? You like it when I call you a whore, huh? Guess you’re not as smart as you think you are, just a dumb slut for her daddy’s cock.” His thrusts are unrelenting, now hitting the back of her throat everytime, causing her to gag and sputter around his cock. She can’t help but wriggle her arms against the belt confining them, trying to find some purchase as he uses her mouth but with no success. On the next thrust, Steve’s hips still with his cock down her throat, her nose crushed up against his pelvis. Drool is dripping down her chin as she chokes around him. He just holds her there, and she starts to panic, trying to fight against the hold he has in her hair.

“You don’t need air, do you, pretty? Just need my cock down your throat, right? S’all you need, you stupid slut.” He finally relents, pulling out of her mouth and she’s a wheezing mess, coughing out exhales as she hunches over her shivering body. He’s still hard, but he tucks himself back into his boxers, watching her reel on the floor. Before she can catch her breath, he’s hauling her up by her armpits and pressing her back against the wall, her hands still bound behind her. The way he holds her jaw, fingers skating over her cheeks, is startlingly tender as he drinks in her cockdrunk appearance. His voice is barely above a whisper when he speaks.

“Look at you, bunny. So pretty for me.” Something in her snaps, her lip starting to wobble as tears pool over her lashes. Steve sighs and she shivers under his delicate touch as he wipes away the first tears to fall.

“What’s got you crying, baby? I don’t like it when you cry, at least not very much.” His grin is sardonic and entirely patronizing as he watches her crumble. She’s trying to stifle the sobs that want to flood her body, her words coming out on heavy shudders.

“You’re s-s-so mean, Steve. I-I j-j-just wanted to h-h-help you.” He tuts, drawing his fingers under her chin to tilt her eyes up to his.

“Aw, you did help, pretty. You and that perfect little mouth of yours. And you know what else? I think you liked it.” With that, he wrenches one of his hands into the front of her jeans, cupping her cunt and stroking harshly through her folds. She lets out a broken gasp at his brutal movement. Steve just chuckles.

“See, bunny? You’re fucking soaked. All because daddy fucked your little throat, huh?” He easily slips two fingers into her, curving them in a way that makes her let out a long, preening cry. She stumbles in his grip, pressing her forehead into his shoulder as he starts fucking her with his fingers.

“P-please, daddy, it’s too much.” He scoffs in her ear, not letting up with his relentless thrusts.

“I know what’s too much for you, bunny. Daddy knows what’s best, right?” When she doesn’t answer, his other hand comes down in a harsh crack on the outside of her thigh and she yelps.

“Y-yes, daddy. You know w-what’s best!” She can feel his smile in her hair as he abruptly removes his fingers, causing her to slump in his hold.

“Atta girl, I think that little brain of yours is finally starting to get it right.” She can’t tell where the pleasure ends and the pain from his words begins, but she knows that the more he says, the more poison that drips off his tongue, the smaller she feels in his grip. Holding her in his arms, he walks them over to the couch, facing her towards the arm rest and bending her over it, her cheek smearing into one of the cushions. Her arms are still bound behind her back and she’s all but given up tugging at them, but Steve seems to notice her squirming.

“If I take the belt off will you be good for me, bunny?”

“Yes– yes, I will, daddy– please– be so good for you.” He shushes her, laying a kiss in the middle of her spine before finally unwinding the belt from her wrists. She flexes her hands, whimpering at the ache that’s already set into her joints. Steve presses a kiss to both of her wrists and she can’t help the shudder that runs through her at his gentle movements.

“There you go, baby. I know it hurts, I’m sorry. Gonna make you feel so much better.” His hands snake under her waist, undoing her jeans before sliding them down her legs. His rough palms splay over the swell of her ass, squeezing the flesh and making her gasp.

“Daddy’s gonna make you feel good, bunny. I promise. But, I just don’t think you’ve quite learned your lesson.” She jolts at that, craning her neck to look at him.

“No– I have! I promise I have, daddy!” He chuckles, catching her off guard when he lands a harsh smack to her ass that sends her lurching forward into the couch.

“You saying you know better than daddy, baby?” She shakes her head, burying her face into her forearms.

“N-no, daddy. Just don’t want it to hurt.”

“Aw, pretty, you won’t learn if it doesn’t hurt, yeah?” He runs his palms up and down her spine, a soothing before the storm.

“Tell you what. Since you’re being so good for me now, we’ll just do five alright? No belt, just my hand.” That’s a small mercy. She hates when he uses the belt, and he knows it. She sighs, nodding her acceptance.

“Does that first one count?” He chuckles, hands squeezing her hips.

“I don’t think so, pretty. That one was a warning, these five are punishment. You think your little brain can handle counting them for me?” She huffs at that, he’s twisting an already deep knife in her gut, but she nods.

The first blow is quick and she yelps out “one!” For a while after, he just rubs his palms on her ass to the point that her legs start trembling in anticipation. He abruptly lands the second and third in the same spot and she shrieks out the count. She already knows that he’s aiming to leave a mark. The fourth and fifth come quick too and she’s been reduced to a mess in the aftermath. Tears are streaming down her face and her whole body shivers under his touch, but she can also feel the wetness smearing across the inside of her thighs. Steve leans over her, draping his warm chest across her back and she reaches a hand back to grab onto his thigh.

“Did so good for me, baby. My good girl, huh?” He presses a kiss into her temple before he hoists her up, keeping her back pressed to his chest as she’s all but slack in his arms. He helps her step out of her jeans and panties, turning her around in his arms and letting her clasp her hands around his neck. She’s mute in his hold, pressing her face into his neck as his hands slide down her thighs to hoist her legs around his hips.

He pads into the bedroom, laying her down across his bed and slotting himself between her legs. She brings her hands to the hem of his shirt and he gets the hint, sitting back and shucking it off over his head. She thinks that she’ll never get used to it, seeing him bare. There’s strange scars along his abdomen, she assumes from previous burns, but he’s still the prettiest thing she’s ever seen, all tan muscle and the sweetest little freckles. He motions for her to sit up, slipping her shirt off when she does before pressing them both back into the mattress in a harsh kiss. His tongue invades her mouth immediately, wrapping her senses in a hazy fog of him. He pulls away with a hot gasp.

“Need to be inside you, baby. Need your pussy so bad.” She just sighs out his name, watching him lean back to tug his cock out of his boxers before dropping the heavy tip against her folds. She whines when he draws the head of his cock through her cunt, her wetness smearing over the length of him.

“Tell me you want it, pretty. Tell me you want me.” He dips into her entrance and she gasps at the feeling.

“I want it, Steve, please– want you now.” He rolls his hips forward in one smooth thrust that sends her reeling, her hands clinging to his back as she cries out at being entirely full with him. He groans into her neck, quickly finding a steady rhythm as he fucks into her.

“Fuck– pussy’s made for me, baby– so perfect– just take it.” He brings one hand down to toy with her clit and it makes her hips buck up into his as she chokes on his name.

“Come for me, pretty– need it so bad– you better fucking come right now.” Her release sneaks up on her and then she’s falling hard, spasming around his dick and digging her nails into his back. He isn’t far behind her, fucking her through her high before he thrusts into her one final time and spills inside her with a shivery groan. They’re both panting, laying entangled in a hazy stillness as they come down. The ache is already coming back into focus, in her wrists and along the swell of her ass. She winces hard when he finally pulls out.

He had certainly gotten her good and fucked out, but she’s all too quickly coming out of the haze, all the dark things he said resting heavy on her chest until it feels like she can’t breathe. She goes to get up, but he’s quick to stop her, bringing his hands to her shoulders to press her back.

“Woah, easy, baby. Just lemme take care of you.” She shakes off his hands, dipping under his hold to stand and shuffle into the bathroom.

“‘I’m fine, Steve. Just– give me a minute.” She scrubs her hands down her face before turning in the mirror to take in the sight of her mottled ass. Sure enough, there’s a perfect, blotchy, red handprint across her one cheek, it even looks like he broke skin around the edges. There’s little bruises dotting her hips as well from where he had dug his fingers in, and she hisses as she runs her fingers over them. It’s then that she catches sight of her wrists in the mirror, rubbed red and raw from his belt. Normally, she enjoyed this kind of thing, evidence of a good session with Steve. But right now, the sight of her weary body coupled with his words still swirling in her head just makes her want to cry.

“Baby?” She’s startled out of her thoughts by Steve’s hoarse voice. He’s leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest and a furrowed look across his face. She sighs, not quite able to meet his gaze as she brushes past him back into the bedroom. He’s following behind her mutely as she grabs her shirt, quickly pulling it back on before walking out into the living room to get her panties and jeans. She’s sliding her pants up her legs when he finally speaks again.

“W-what are you doing?”

“I think I should go, Steve.”

“What? What do you mean? Baby, I– you need someone to take care of you, lemme look at those bruises.” He goes to reach for her but she flinches, stepping back away from him. He stops dead in his tracks.

“All that shit that you said, did you mean it?” He gives her a confused look, but she presses on.

“Steve, your words really hurt me. All that talk about me being your stupid slut. I-It felt different, it felt like you meant it.” He swallows hard.

“I was just angry, baby. I didn’t mean that shit. You just– you caught me off guard with those– those fucking pamphlets– and then the pills. I overreacted, I–”

“I can’t keep doing this, Steve!” His face crumples in an instant at her words, and when he speaks, his voice is so small it makes her breath catch.

“Can’t keep doing what?” She huffs, throwing her arms out in frustration.

“This! All I wanna do is help you and all you wanna do is push me away. It’s-it’s absurd. Why you won’t stop being so fucking stubborn is beyond me. But then, you just get so nasty about it, so mean.” She lets out a bitter laugh, sitting down on the edge of the couch and holding her head in her hands.

“And the worst part is, I let you be that way to me. I keep trying to help you and you keep lashing out at me a-and I can’t take it anymore, Steve. I just can’t.” Her words seem to have left him speechless, he just stands there, his eyes searching her face. She huffs, standing and heading towards the front door. It’s silent as she shrugs on her coat and puts on her shoes, sliding her bag up her arm. When she goes to open the door, however, his large hand comes into view, pressing the door shut. She turns around to tell him off, but chokes on her words when she sees his face. His eyes are swimming in tears, his expression completely crumpled.

“Please don’t go, baby. I’m sorry– I’m so sorry. You know I didn’t mean any of that stuff I just– I got freaked out, ok?” She pinches the bridge of her nose with her fingers, squeezing her eyes shut to keep from crying anymore.

“You say that every time this happens, Steve. I can’t keep believing what’s obviously a lie.” And then, Steve does something she couldn’t have expected in a million years. He gets down on his knees in front of her.

“I swear it’s not a lie this time, I swear. I-I’ll go to a shrink like you want me to– I won’t take anymore of those pills, just– please don’t fucking leave me, baby. You-you’re so good a-and so smart and– I love you, I really fucking love you.” It’s the first time he’s said it, and she wishes more than anything that it had been under any other circumstance. For a moment, she wonders to herself how she got here, in only three months, completely entangled with this broken man. She’s startled out of her thoughts when he wraps his arms around her hips, burying his face into her stomach.

“Please, baby. You know I need you.” She tentatively rests her hand in his hair, feeling the way he slackens against her at the contact. She draws her fingers through his hair firmly, tilting his head back to look at her. She lets out a long sigh.

“Listen to me, Steve Harrington. This is it. I swear to god if you’re lying, if anything like today happens again? I’m gonna leave and I’m never gonna come back.” His eyes go wide at her words and he’s quick to get on his feet, cupping her face in both his palms.

“I promise, it’s never gonna happen again. Gonna be better for you. Love you so much, baby.” She lets him press a damp kiss to her lips before pulling back.

“Will you let me take care of you now, pretty?” She nods, having to admit that her skin is smarting under the rough material of her jeans. He gives her a sweet smile before taking her hand and leading her back into his bedroom.

…

She swears she could get whiplash from how quickly Steve can change, going so sweet on her the second he has her laid back out on his bed. He gently peels her jeans down her legs, having her turn over onto her stomach while he rubs aloe lotion into her welts, murmuring apologies as he works. He thumbs at her wrists before kissing each, letting her turn onto her side while he slides behind her, wrapping her up in his arms. She’s exhausted from everything and falls asleep easily, moored by the steady rise and fall of his solid chest pressed into her back.

When she wakes up, it’s much later, the sun already setting on the city. Steve stirs behind her, grumbling into her neck.

“Can you stay tonight?” She hums her affirmation. She’s off RA duty until tomorrow and doesn’t have morning classes either, she can stay. Steve sighs. Her voice is hoarse when she speaks.

“How’s your head?” He groans.

“Hurts. I’ll take some advil.” Relief floods through her system that he really has seemed to drop the prescription debate.

“You can probably take a higher dose than normal, just for a little while before it starts getting better.” He sighs again, a seeming acceptance of her words. She wills herself to believe that it will get better.

“You hungry, baby?” She hums another yes to his question, turning in his arms to look at him.

“Should probably get something in you before you take anything too.”

They order takeout from her favorite spot, something Steve does every time he’s had to apologize to her. She’s had a lot of takeout in the last three months. She hopes this time really is different.

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