#prescribe because. you know. of course she is. of course she has to be a hypocrite in this way just like she always is *rme* | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

rosedom · 2 months

Note

AHHHH HELLOOO sorry i usually dont request much, haha this is actually my second request in all of my tumblr story ever but...i saw you decided to write for gaming and i just couldnt resist, i love your writing a lot and i just think its so immaculate hahaa. Could you write an scenario where male reader is stressed from work (imagine he has an important job like a doctor or something whatever you want is fine :)) because he has been working days nonstop, so much that his boyfriend is all worked up and horny for him so when reader comes back he finds himself straddled by him while hes begging for fucking? With cockwarming, breeding kink and cowgirl position. Could that be with Gaming, Lyney and Gorou? SORRY IF IM ASKING MUCH I DONT WANT TO BE A BOTHER😭😭 i just dont know how to request but thanks for reading all of rant. And again, thank you and sorry for bothering😔 have a nice day/afternoon/night!

"an unnamed player has invited GA-MING, LYNEY, and GOROU to play . . . an apple a day

✦ㅤㅤ 【 CW 】 dom!top!male!reader, sub!bottom!ftm!characters, vaginal sex & riding, breeding kink + creampies, creaming (lyney), gratuitous praise + petnames .

A/N : aa u are never a bother !! i am SO SORRY this took so long for me to get to, omg . . . but i had sm fun with this (´▽`ʃ♡ƪ)

"do you want to watch, [PLAYER]? press KEEP READING to spectate the match."

Patient after patient after patient, each one with a more downright stupid trouble than the last. Your day had started with a young man, clearly fresh out of Millelith training, complaining of a tummy ache, of all things! He had clutched his stomach and moaned and groaned, and all you could prescribe him was bedrest. It’s not like you were going to waste medicine—medicine that some people needed—on someone who ached because he didn't eat fucking breakfast.

The next patient was an older woman, here only for her biannual check up. You'd greeted her, said a sweet, “Good morning, madame,” but all she did was turn her snobby nose up at you and demand you not waste her time.

“Madame, you have a serious—”

“I know, young man.” You had heaved a sigh, letting her boss you around for the length of her appointment before sending her off with the exact same specifications as last time: take vitamins, get ample rest, stop talking back to people just doing their jobs. (Though, that last one there was merely something you wished you had said.

Too bad the customer—in this case, patient—is always right, huh?)

But, by the end of the day, you wish, instead, that you had simply elderly after elderly; their disrespect pales to the absolute headache that the rest of your patients put behind your eyes, pounding at your skull—bam, bam, bam.

Wham bam-thank-you-ma'am, all throbbing incessantly behind your eyes and making you wanna hurl—except, god, you’re the fucking doctor, and who’s there to take care of him when he’s a little under the weather? You’ve got your boyfriend, of course—your perfect boyfriend, light of your life, apple of your eye, yet he’s home, and you’re here, and you’re bloody exhausted.

“I need to go home,” you murmur—quiet, lest your own voice make you lose the last of your thin-threaded sanity—, already stripping yourself of the itchy scrubs you wear during the long days.

“But sir—” the nurse asks, meak, but her voice is still too loud, too shrill for right now.

You huff. “I’ve worked for fourteen hours.” The tired gruff to your own voice makes you cringe. You can feel the way it tumbles from your chest, rattling you, your overly sensitive eyes and brain and head and fuckin’ everything, at this point. “Refer to the doc on duty, now.”

The nurse nods, once. “Have a good night, doctor.”

You bid farewell—a kind apology with a promise to make it up to them, to bring them coffee, maybe, or some cookies—, and you take the slow walk home. The sky is dark and the fireflies are out, the gentle glow illuminating the path. With nothing but your own thoughts and the night to accompany you, you feel your headache gradually ease. It throbs, still; but each bump in your skull is gentler, now: it’s easier to ignore.

Although the porch light is too strong—the lantern bright and attracting the nighttime bugs and moths—, the foyer of your home is dark. Your aching head is grateful for the reprieve—for the silence that envelops you in totality the second the door clicks quietly shut behind you—, but something other than tiredness pulls at your heartstrings: your sweet boyfriend, clad in only a shirt of yours, toeing into the entryway.

“Honey?” He wipes the sleep from his eyes, softly smiling at you. “Hi.”

“Ga-ming, honey—” honey, because Ga-ming unabashedly stole the pet name from you, first, “—you didn’t have to stay up for me.”

As if on cue, his jaw cracks open in a yawn: this, you do not need the lights on to see. Your heart aches with your head, knowing that he had stayed up just for you. “Honey,” you repeat, sliding off your jacket and stepping up to him. You take his waist in your hands, bunching up the shirt he stole from your closet.

“Quit with that,” he murmurs, tilting up his head for a soft kiss. You grant it; but when you go to pull back, to keep the kiss gentle and chaste, Ga-ming presses forward, darting that little tongue out to lick at the seam of your lips; his hips, too, come bumping against yours, pressing into your thigh, pant to skin—

“Ga-ming?” you repeat, breath leaving you in a low huff. “You’re—” bare.

Utterly, wholly bare: an expanse of warm, slick skin against your clothed leg. “‘m ready,” he mumbles while he takes to mouthing at your throat. His lips soothe you, somehow; it’s a reprieve, a stark contrast, to the pounding at your skull.

“Ready?” you whisper, tilting your head back, letting your hands guide the steady roll of his hips onto your lap.

He nods. “Ready for you,” he enunciates as he softly whines.

Ga-ming—your Ga-ming—, your boyfriend, your love and light of your life: right here in front of you, on you, all needy for you, offering himself to you, wholly ready for the taking.

“So please,” he continues, his cock dragging heavy across the seam of your pant; “fuck me.”

“Oh, honey,” you murmur; then again, an “oh, honey,” because you’re still half-dressed up in your clothes—though they’re only soft and bland, made to fit under the rough scrubs you had abandoned at the office—, and Ga-ming is naked save for the shirt draping across him, the low hemline covering the absolutely sinful way he grinds down. It’s a dirty move, a down, down, down that gives his sensitive cock friction against your pelvis.

“Please, please, ‘m ready, I said—” his words abruptly drop off, a high cry in his throat that sends him to hide his overly-warm face in your neck. His skin burns against you, a feverish-hot that makes you chuckle, makes the throb in your head go away, just-so. “I said I-I was ready, so, please!”

You coo, quiet, bumping your hips up once. The jerking motion makes him cry out, but he manages to keep himself upright, right-side up but entirely unmoored on your cock. “Go on then, little lion. Take what you need, yeah?”

Whimpering a quiet, “Y-yeah,” he begins riding you, slow, steady—but slightly off-balanced—rolls of his hips that makes him whine, makes you groan low n’ deep in your chest. You let your hands rest on his hips, the fabric of his shirt falling over your wrists, and gently guide his motions. Once you’ve helped him establish himself, he begins riding you harder, more desperate.

Silent tears—though, are they truly silent, loud as he is moaning out for you?—dribble down his cheeks, falling to his shirt and soaking the collar of it in salty evidence of his abject pleasure. His abdomen is tensing and relaxing and tensing and relaxing again, all in a rapid loop, in and out and in n’ out, and then there’s a fucking bulge right below his navel when he sinks down hard n’ deep on your cock; and you’re sent over the edge at the sight, moaning through your teeth as you fill Ga-ming up with hot, sticky cum.

“Oh, oh—” he cries, grinding down harsh to get all your cum in as deep as possible, deep ‘nuff to breed him— “bred me, bred me so well, oh—” You groan at his desperate babbling as his thighs jerk around your hips, just before they give out on him entirely. He falls bodily into your chest, heaving through his own orgasm as weak mewls tumble from his prettily parted lips. Each sound is smeared into your throat while you laugh, light and breathless, jostling his overly-sensitized body and making him flinch.

“Sorry, honey.” You kiss at his temple, and, the whole while, his small cunt is left to unconsciously milk your cock, left to assure that loud, insecure part of his brain that he’s wanted, that he’s bred all nice n’ full because he is loved. You’re long done, now, but the undulations make your body warm, soft, safe—just like Ga-ming is, comfy in your lap and wholly protected. “Thank you.”

He shakes his head against you, nuzzling into your throat with a heavy sigh. “You don’t have—hafta thank me,” he mumbles, a lick at your Adam’s apple to seal the deal. “I wanted ta.”

Tucking up the blankets around him, you grin. “Then can you warm my cock, lil’ dragon? Just for me?” You run your fingers lightly up his clothed spine, delighting in the shiver you can feel, one that runs the length of your cock as he’s snug on it. “Since earlier was all about you?” You raise the end of your sentence in a lilting tone, meant to tease, and Ga-ming huffs at you.

And, n further retaliation, he clenches around you; the soft squeeze—all wet n’ warm, smearing your own cum across the base of your cock and leaving the mess of both of yours to dribble down the minute space between your bodies—forces you to calm your breathing, to take in the delicate scent of what is undeniably Ga-ming mixed with the smell of your own shirt, your own cologne.

You laugh, then. “‘m sorry,” you say again amidst giggles, ones you’re careful you confine only to your upper chest lest the movement be too uncomfortable on both of your oversensitive groins.

He doesn't reply, snuggled up comfy on your lap and stuffed full of your cock n’ cum both. Instead, he only noses into your neck further before his breathing steadies, lulling you to sleep, too.

It’s in your final moments of consciousness that you realize your head no longer hurts.

(You suppose you now have the evidence that, yes, an orgasm is sufficient enough a cure for headaches.)

Under Lyney’s palm, a small floor lamp clicks silently on. The light is admittedly dim, but, to your sensitive eyes, the bulb is blinding. You cringe and cover your eyes; but it only serves to shield you slightly, because you’re still upright in the foyer, and your body is rather weak. “Lyney,” you tiredly murmur, lifting your palm just enough to see the ground lest you trip.

You bump into him, laughing lightly, but his worried hands jump to your arm. “Hey—”

“I’m okay.” You’re quick to calm him, placing your free hand on his in a tender gesture as you make way to the living room. “Just a headache, ‘s all. Ya shouldn't have stayed up f’r me.” Earlier, it hurt to even think; but here, with him, the pain is easy to ignore, in the face of his own self destruction.

He grumbles at you, though, says something you can’t quite catch and drops his hands, pads over to the lamp to flick it off. The return of darkness is soothing.

He smiles at you, then; or, at least, you think he does. It’s difficult to see in the dark, and you can’t strain your eyes without hurting yourself. “I wanted to!” He takes three long strides before he’s standing in front of you, draping his arms across your shoulders. The position makes his (your) shirt ride up on his belly, and— ”I missed you, y’know,” he murmurs, suddenly all soft n’ deep, looking up at you and bumping his forehead against your chin. “A lot, really.”

“Lyn—”

He quickly silences you with a kiss. Against your lips, he pulls back, murmurs, “I missed your cock, especially.”

Laughing against him, you lean up ‘til he can no longer reach you. He pouts at you when you reply, faux-snark, “only my cock, huh?” Your bottom lip juts out—a mirror of Lyney’s own, a magic trick of his you took for your own; it’s a devilish trick, one you play right alongside puppy-dog eyes you know he’s soft to. “How cruel.”

He huffs at you, pulling you down by the collar of your shirt to kiss the mirth off your lips. “I was tryin’ to be seductive,” he grumbles, knocking against your chin and beginning to push you backwards into the living room. “But nevermind!”

You want to say, “Hey, now:” disagree with him and keep on pouting and go, “hey, hey, hey,” all offended, but the backs of your knees come into contact with the edge of the sofa, and you’re well and sufficiently distracted from that idea.

“Sit,” he gently commands you—merely the illusion of choice—, giving you no choice in the matter with the way he’s pressing you down into the cushions. You go easily; you sigh in relief when the softness begins enveloping you—a pillow’s snug right in the middle of your back, and you briefly wonder if Lyney had planned this. He murmurs, “there you go,” quiet n’ soft, and you’re taken by the way this man gives to you.

He wears his heart on his sleeve, truly; except, right now, the sleeve is yours (just like his heart belongs to you and yours to him in turn), and it's bare, and so is the expanse of his long, pale thighs, the hem of his boxers peeking out beneath the shirt. He stands in front of you, between your legs, makes sure you’re down and that you’re gonna stay down, but your eyes aren’t really tired, not anymore, staring at Luney—your Lyney—before he huffs and sits bodily onto you, straddling your lap with his knees sinking into the cushions on either side of you.

“Lyney,” you murmur, reaching out to take hold of his thighs. The position makes the shirt rise up on his belly, exposing the soft, rippling muscles there; but, in the dark, all you can go by is what you feel against your own stomach, his bare skin pressed to your thin shirt. “I was kiddin’, sweetheart.”

“I know you were,” he snaps at you, mean-like, but he brings his arms around your shoulders all sweetly and nuzzles into the side of your head. “But I wasn’t. I—I really did miss you; and your cock. If you—if you wanna, of course.”

“Of course I want to, Lyn,” you mutter, tilting your head up to kiss beneath his chin. “I’m just a little tired.”

“A little?” He huffs, again, before sighing. “Just—let me do the work, alright? I’m already...” he pauses, tilts his head to the side, breathes in and out sharply.

You hum at him to go on.

“‘m already prepped.” Oh.

“Oh?” You grin, bringing your tired arm up to cup his cheek. He leans into your palm and his eyelashes flutter, brushing against your skin. “Go ahead then, sweet thing.”

And go ahead he does, smiling into you before he abruptly leans back ‘nuff to chuck off the shirt. You whine, say, “hey!” but there isn’t any bite left on your tongue when Lyney starts tugging his boxers down, too. He’s impatient, pulling at the seam and groaning curses at the fabric—as if it’s the damn boxers’ fault that he’s in a position that prevents him from taking them off.

He relents, tilting this way and that and finally—after painstaking minutes later, ones that, under no circumstance, should be arousing, but the anticipation, the wait: it all makes your dick chub up in your own pants—Lyney’s left naked in your lap. The fabric hangs off his foot, and you reach down to tug it the rest of the way off for your sweet boyfriend as he busies himself unbuckling your own belt, loosening the tough leather enough for your pants to droop and enough for him to reach a hot hand into your briefs.

“Eager, huh?” you tease, lifting your hips—and, subsequently, him—to let him get your dick out of your pants. Neither of you bother pulling down your own pants, not after Lyney spent so long on his boxers alone. He doesn’t dally. “My sweet Lyney.”

He sighs, again—he’s rather dramatic tonight; but, then again, when isn’t he? It wouldn’t quite be your Lyney without some theatrics—, spitting into his palm and lathering up your cock with it while he makes to straddle you more fully. “Thought you were tired,” he grumbles, hovering his, indeed, wet n’ slicked up and entirely prepped cunt over your thick cockhead.

“Mhm.” You set your hands on his plush thighs once he hooks the head of you into his loosened hole, groaning low and pleased in your throat while he softly whimpers at the barely-there stretch. He prepared himself well. “But when you’re lookin’ so pretty for me, I can’t help being wide awake. Wouldn’t wanna miss this sight for the world.”

With your eyes now adjusted to the light—and, oh, you consider how the throb of your head is a bygone memory now—, you can see the way his cheeks darken just-so, puffed up in exertion as his groin meets yours. You’ve got your cock stuffed up balls-deep in him, and he leans into you once he’s fully settled.

He moans, less out of outright pleasure and more out of total contentment, comfy and warm on your lap as your arms knead at his thighs. His arms squeeze around your shoulders, and he quietly asks, “Gimme a minute.”

Nodding, you simply bask in the steady heat of him, letting him adjust and recognize that, yes, you’re home, now, and you hadn’t really left him at all. “I missed you,” you murmur rather suddenly, your voice quiet but still stark in the silence of the night. “Thought about you durin’ my shift.”

“You did?” His voice is rough but wispy, a little out-there and entirely gone. He’s slipping into that mindset he always does when he’s left to warm your cock—regardless of if it were by his volition or your own—, but he begins to subtly grind his hips against you, mewling at the hot sparks of rapture from his cock rubbing just right against you.

“‘Course I did,” you continue, moving your hands to his hips instead to help move him along. His arms tighten around you and he moans directly into your ear.

From then on, it’s quiet: quiet, that is, save from the obscene slick noises of the lube Lyney used to prep himself earlier with his own slick, your pre-cum mixing up and making a mess of thick liquid between both of your thighs. His moans are barely audible, these soft, gentle lil’ uh, uh, uh’s punched out of him with each tender grind down.

You think, even, that you’ll both cum like this: quiet, nothing but the sounds of your connection and heavy breaths, moans, groans as you fall over the edge. But then Lyney starts bumping his groin against yours even harder, grinding down deep on your cock and rubbing against your full balls, and he starts babbling for you to “breed me! Please—”

“I-I’ll breed you,” you groan, leaning your head back into the sofa cushions and chasing your release, chasing the release you both want, the one he wants so desperately stuffed up deep inside him. “Gonna fill you right up, just like you want, sweetheart.”

He babbles more—a mix of syllables and words, more pleas for you to breed him—until he’s silenced by his own high-pitched whine, cumming around you and slathering you in creamy-white. The steady clench and release of his cunt forces you to your own end, thick cum slowly leaking out from the edges of his cunt and your cock. (You can hardly tell what’s your leaking cum and what is his own.)

“Thank you,” he mumbles, already beginning to doze. “Th’nk you:” quieter, more muddled against your ear.

You grab the throw you have across the sofa’s armrest, rucking it up around the two of you; you cocoon Lyney safe in your arms and on your softened cock. He’s nodded off, now, and he misses your words: “You don’t have to thank me,” you say anyway, even if he doesn’t hear you, “I love you.”

The cum’ll be sticky, later, when you wake up; but for now, it’s perfect. It’s perfectly warm and entirely cozy, wholly snuggled up with the love of your life. Your headache, the stressors of the day—they’re all forgotten in his presence.

You’re so, so glad to love him.

“Hi, puppy,” you coo. The sound of your own voice grates you, but you ignore it to sweetly smile at your beloved. He stands there, motionless for a moment right there at the threshold before the foyer, until he shakes his head with a barely-there laugh. “Gorou?”

He tilts his head to the side—this you can see, the silhouette of him in the moonlight—before he takes a tentative step forward.

Then another. And another. Another, another, another, ‘till he’s standing in front of you and leans up to kiss your jaw. “Hi,” he repeats, voice ruff (hah!) and hoarse, a little too much so. “Missed ya.”

You tilt your head back to let him mouth at you, and your hands subconsciously come to clutch at his hips, and— “Oh, Gorou,” you mumble, pleasantly aghast, because your hands come into contact with bare, slick skin. “Pent up?”

With a quiet whimper, he tilts his hips forward, into you, pressing against the contact of your fingers on him. You slowly slide your one hand around, sneaking a large handful of his ass before you dip into his cleft, shuddering when your fingertip easily glides across his slicked, open cunt.

“I-I wanted you, so bad,” he starts to mumble, shy, tucking his head into the meat where your shoulder meets your neck. Without any prompting, you adjust your stance, pressing your knee into his cock and making him jerk forward with another whimper high in his throat. “Oh!”

Slowly, his hips begin grinding—it’s a weak movement, testing, making sure you're really okay with this, right now. He moves unsure against you until you begin bumping your knee, letting his slick make a mess of your pant leg. “Go on,” you goad him on, soft, holding him snug against you. You can feel his cunt clench even through the fabric of your pants, a rapid rat-a-tat-tat against you that is oddly reminiscent of the headache you can feel begin to dissipate. “Take your pleasure, pup.”

He nods vehemently against you, beginning to hump as his tail swishes side to side, side to side, hypnotizing you just slightly. It’s hard to parse it out in the dark, but the shadow of it is undeniable behind him. Each bounce of your leg makes Gorou whimper, and he’s quick to crane his neck up for a kiss to muffle himself. You grant his request easily, but only for a minute; after, you gently part from him to murmur, so quiet that only he could possibly hear, those big, soft ears of his twitching as he strains, “What else do you want, honey?”

“Want you,” he whines, grinding harshly once, twice. “Want you inside me, want you to breed me.”

You didn’t expect that, but you’re a doctor, after all; it’s kinda in the job description to roll with the punches, so you do. “You wanna get fucked full of pups?” you ask, teasing and light, but Gorou’s mouth parts as a loud whine crawls out of his chest.

“Yes! Please.” Thick tears begin to drop from his eyes, saltwater dribbling onto the bare skin of your throat. “Now, now—breed me now,” he begs, and you coo at him, bringing your hands to curl into his hair, rubbing soothing circles into the base of one puppydog ear.

“Patience, pup.”

And, because he’s Gorou, and Gorou is nothing but a good boy, he nods, rapid-quick movements of his head, and begins to slow on your thigh. Heat shimmers low in your belly as he steps back from you on shaky legs, a wet splotch across your leg from his cunt. You bring a hand down, meaning to scoop it up off your pant, but your finger brushes two distinctly different textures: his natural slick, and fuckin’ lube. “Did you prepare yourself for me?”

“Y-yeah,” he mutters, tail tucking itself between his legs. You almost cringe at that, knowing he’s smearing himself into his own fur, but if he doesn’t mind, then you won’t either; besides, it’s hard to truly care when your boyfriend is so bashful in front of you. “I—I missed you, ‘nd wanted to be ready for you.”

The image of Gorou, ass up on the bed with four of his fingers stuffed up inside of himself flitters across your mind, makes your cock throb in your britches. Your erection was easy to ignore, earlier; but now it’s abject torture.

However, it’s not nearly as torturous as it was for your boyfriend, and you know this. You know he didn’t cum, know his fingers are far too short to truly reach in deep and press against his g-spot, know his wrist can’t comfortably bend to jerk himself off and finger himself at the same time. So you coo, soft, “Sweet boy. Where’s your toy?”

“Charging,” he mutters.

You grin at that: it’s perfect. “Can you go get it then, puppy?”

With an audible swallow, he nods, rushing for your bedroom. You follow behind him, lethargic but so, so turned on; and while he’s grabbing the vibrator from the corner, you shuck off the rest of your clothes and plop yourself down on the edge of your bed.

He must not expect you to have followed him, however, because once he turns around, he jumps, ears flattening to his head in embarrassment. You only laugh and pat your lap. “C’mere.”

Quickly—and toy in tow—, he shuffles over to you. He stands awkwardly in front of you for a moment before you murmur, “I said c’mere,” and tug him to straddle your lap. The position immediately forces his cock—slick n’ thick, out of its hood and throbbing incessantly—against yours, and he mewls helplessly for a moment, grinds once, twice again, before he grabs the lube to the side of you.

You hadn’t even noticed it there, but now that he’s grabbed it, pointed it out, you feel other wet spots beneath you. He fuckin’ masturbated here, right on the duvet you both sleep under, thinkin’ about you and only you. You’re taking out of your musings when he slathers up your cock in lube, messy and sloppy, and then he’s rising, positioning you, and sinking right on down.

“Mm!” he cries out, swiveling his hips to take you in deeper, deeper, deeper. You groan at the lube-slick combination that smothers your cock in Gorou, Gorou, Gorou. “Breed me, breed me!” Each meak plea makes your cock pulse inside him, and he mewls at each throb inside him. “Please!”

“I got you, pup,” you murmur, your edge so close you can taste it on the tip of your tongue. “Just make yourself feel good, and I’ll breed you, okay? Okay, puppy?”

“Okay, okay—”

You grin. “Good boy,” you say, and then he’s tumbling over the edge and bringing you right down with him. You groan into his throat, feeling the vibrations of his whimpers n’ whining moans as he’s getting thoroughly bred. Your hands ruck up his shirt to hold his sides and soothe him down from his high. “You did so good for me, sweetheart. Bred you just like I promised I would, hm?”

He weakly nods. “Thank you,” he mumbles, nosing at your throat.

And, well. You’re bloody exhausted, and you promised to breed him, and he can’t keep on being bred if you pull out. You tell yourself you’re only upholding your promise as Gorou falls asleep on your cock, breathing deep on your lap: tell yourself that it’s the lingering tiredness that suddenly seems to hit you in full-force that keeps him warm and snug on you.

Really, clean-up can wait.

i got a lil' carried away on lyney's part ,, o(*^＠^*)o also, none of these were really cowgirl 'cos reader was sitting up for it . . . i couldn't think of how to have him lay flat in these scenarios LOLL

13 MAR. 2024, @rosedom, rosey .

#ㅤ✦【 ASKS 】#i used to have very frequent headaches and the only way i could abate them was:#1) midol (god's gift to earth i stg)#and 2) jrking off.#so !!#sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin x reader #sub gaming #gaming x reader #sub lyney #lyney x reader #sub gorou #gorou x reader #lord .#top reader #dom reader #amab reader #male reader

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idyllcy · 4 months

Text

the second - jinshi x reader (bonus to so i don't know how to love)

Jinshi has been more quiet lately.

Maomao first takes note of it on the second week, and on the third, the poor eunuch looks like he's aged to fifty-six. She blinks at the eunuch, and it seemed another annoying request would be arriving at her doorstep soon. She would have preferred that it stay quiet. But of course, something had to happen. Something always does.

"Maomao." Jinshi groans from the desk.

His usual smirk is replaced by his hair, and his forehead rests on the desk, his head spinning as his soul practically slips past his lips. He's much older, now that she looks at him. Perhaps the worrying over his missing wife had taken a toll— but he had looked much much younger when he had picked her up from the spring residence a year ago.

Maomao smiles to the best of her ability. "Yes?"

"Can you prescribe some chinese medicine that is good for a healthy baby."

Maomao blinks. "Are one of the consorts pregnant already?"

"No." He moves his face to rest on his cheek. "My wife is pregnant with our second."

Maomao blinks incredulously, slowly, utterly confusedly. "She let you sleep with you after—" She shuts herself up, forcing a smile on her face instead. Too many questions would get her nowhere. After all, the madam had just returned. She was not about to make her regret her decision. Though, it seemed the poor guy had been using her day and night for his sexual needs. She feels bad. That poor woman.

Jingui peers from the door at his father, blinking.

"Is niang alright?" Jinshi opens his arms for his son to give him a hug.

Maomao shudders at the affection.

"Niang just woke up." Jingui hums. "I am visiting before my shared class with the princess."

"Very well." He sends him on his way with a kiss on his forehead.

Maomao blinks at Jinshi. "Medicine for the madam?"

"For her pregnancy."

"Isn't she too old to be having children?"

"Aren't you too old to be single?"

"Hey, don't bully the child." You click your tongue disdainfully at the door, and Maomao nods at you as you pass her and stop. "Hand."

Her eyes light up when you drop her some poisonous flowers from your handkerchief.

"That should be enough, right?"

Maomao nods, lips curled into a smile. "You're so much better than he is."

You laugh, smile radiant, and Maomao waves goodbye as she rushes off for the herbs.

"You don't need to bully me for each time I say something out of pocket to her, you know?" Jinshi pouts, looking to the side.

"Have you stopped to consider that she's not married because she doesn't want it?" You roll your eyes. "I heard stress is bad for the baby. You better not go around stressing me out."

Jinshi makes a face of betrayal at you, mouth open and frustrated.

"Niang! The princess wants to see you fight!" Jingui calls from outside, and you hum.

"It's bad for the baby!" Jinshi yells back.

"It's fine." You hum. "Unless you want to pose as me?"

Jinshi grimaces. "I am coming with."

"Fine with me!" You hum. "Niang's coming!"

Maomao stops on her way back to the study with the medicine, staring as you show the princess how to use the sword, holding back a laugh at the way Jinshi looks like he's about to throw up. Well, this isn't the worst thing.

"Madam! Your medicine." Maomao motions at the pot, and you grimace.

Jinshi catches you before you can run away, and your son takes the pot from her with a nod.

Maybe this isn't half as bad.

#jinshi x reader #apothecary diaries x reader #Kusuriya no Hitorigoto x reader #☾.blurbs

486 notes · View notes

am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

Note

AITA for taking pictures of my sister's house and not deleting them?

I (25f) and my adopted sister L (also 25) have grown up together since we were babies and are extremely close. I truly love her and want the best for her.

She has been married for 5 years to D (25m). They dated since they were 18 and got married at 20. I never had an issue with him except at times I thought he was immature. They have a kid together who is adorable and about to turn 3.

However, as they have been married i have an issue with him. I don't hate anyone, but he is highest on my shit list. Not an exhaustive list but he has (and I want to make this clear THESE ARE THINGS I HAVE WITNESSED I AM NOT LISTING THINGS SHE ONLY HAS TOLD ME ABOUT):

Whenever they argue yells at her. Even in front of guests (ahem me). She'll yell back and then he gets upset she is "raising her voice" at him, when he started it.

He won't let her get a job. He has canceled her applications for jobs before. She has sold some stuff online until he sold the materials she used to make things. Her only "income" is if he decides to give her an allowance and transfer money from his account to hers (please note they have BOTH their names on the accounts but one is considered hers one his). If she takes money from his account he gets mad. Bills, groceries, etc. Come from "her" account

Was always sweet but now uses her as jokes to his friends. Demeans her in front of them.

They move a state over after they got married, almost 5 hours away. Doable in one day, but many don't like to do it. Since being married, she has effectively not seen any of her friends except when they come into town to visit. I have went to visit her and one of her friends did, that friend confided they did not feel comfortable or welcome. That doesn't bother me cause personally I don't give a shit what D thinks and am there for my sister and nephew. But I have overheard D talk bad about all her friends, even me, snd encourage her not to talk to them.

The two friends she has made in the area D has told her to drop because they are "bad influences". The worst thing one has done was medical Marijuana that was prescribed to them. Not sure how they are bad except they've encouraged her to get a job and be more independent

D decided to get a cat, which my sister has a known allergy to. She didn't want the cat, but D brought it home. It has absolutely zero training and has destroyed their home. It pees everywhere, including my nephew's bed. It hates absolutely everyone except D, even attacking my sister for sitting on the couch next to D. D refuses to get rid of the thing even though it has scratched my sister and nephew multiple times and my nephew is afraid of it

Of course, there's more, but those are all things I have witnessed. The last part is what prompted me to take pictures of the bed that was peed on, the scratches on the kid and my sister. My sister showed me texts of her begging D to get rid of the cat and to me it seemed he threatened her, so I took a picture of that.

I personally believe D is an abusive prick. Definitely financially and emotionally, but not physically unless you consider neglect or him keeping the cat. He has never once hit my nephew or my sister that I have seen, and she has never stated he has. My sister has talked about leaving but then goes back to him, and I know on the outside it seems clear to me what to do but I know there is a cycle of abuse. When she is ready to leave him, she knows she can come to me and our parents.

However, D found out I took the photos. He called me drunk and extremely irate, but he didn't explicitly threaten me. It was implied. He called me an asshole, which is what made me think of this. He told me to delete the photos and that upon me doing so, he will get couples therapy.

On one hand I know they need therapy. On the other, what's to prove he will do this after I do that? My sister is begging me to delete the photos because she believes if they have therapy things will improve.

To be specific: D wants to be there when I delete them and make sure they are gone and to me that just proves how bad of a person he is because he doesn't want any evidence of any wrongdoing. My sister has sent me multiple texts and I know she has been trying to make a way for things in case it does go south, but she is afraid the inlaws will attempt for custody because apparently the inlaws have a bit of money and know the judge in our area. I dont want these photos to be used against her either...

AITA for not deleting them?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

486 notes · View notes

donkey-hyuck · 8 months

Text

¡MASTERLIST!

WORD COUNT - 10.146

GENRE - angst haha | fluff | established relationship!au | CEO!au | slowburn?

CHARACTERS/PAIRING - CEO!jaehyun x orphanage caregiver!fem!reader | nct/wayv

INTRODUCTION - getting into a relationship when you were at the lowest point of your life dragged you down to the bottom. but it dragged the ones you loved as well.

TAGLIST - @xxvaelinxx @bbhmystar @actuallynarii @gfksz @jenosbliss

A/N - yikes this one’s a deep one :( the song is track five on the album and track three on the playlist. have fun breaking your hearts :’) (also hi ik it’s been literally centuries but it’s finally here pls don’t kill me (for the rushed end.))

DISCLAIMER - read as you please!! i don’t want to trigger anyone and please lmk if i missed any warnings! i don’t want to be insensitive to anyone's feelings. thank you <3 p.s. this is not proofread and im so sorry for the immense pause.

It wasn’t too far into your relationship when you broke down in front of Jaehyun. You didn’t know why but opening up to him just became natural.

To be fair, you were also a little ways past tipsy.

In fact, you were a bit deep into the soju bottle you had bought while sitting outside of the convenient store when you first met Jeong Jaehyun, himself. Of course, you didn’t know he was the CEO of Jeong Peach Corporation at the time.

Jeong Peach Corporation. A fragrance and personal hygiene corporation company whose audience consists of he’s, she’s, and they’s. The brand as a whole has this certain aesthetic that is appealing to those people. But Mr. Jeong Jaehyun himself also had a certain aesthetic that definitely matched the brand name he built from the ground up. His striking looks and simply the way he carries himself has men and women falling on their knees for him. But it was a little too late for them to capture his heart the way you did.

“Hey you! I can see you looking over here. How ‘bout’chu come over here and I’ll show you a piece of my mind,” you slurred and held up your fist.

He was almost taken aback. Not because he was Jeong Jaehyun and you had the audacity to speak to him like that (again he carries himself in such a humble way that that would never be the option), but he was simply minding his business, walking to his car until he heard the sound of your drunk voice. He was definitely not expecting a drunk voice while he was ready to go home right around midnight.

He chuckled to himself, too amused at the mere thought of you. But it was midnight and this was the darkest the sky was going to get. It was dangerous for you— for anyone— to be out this late, by themselves, downing a bottle of soju. Well, two and a half bottles of the infamous alcoholic drink.

“Who are you? And why are you out here so late? Drunk?” He laughed, tucking his phone into his pocket, slyly grabbing a chair and sitting by you.

“Suffering. It’s tough out here,” you took another shot.

“Hello, suffering. Why are you out drinking soju so late?” He teased. It was easy to get along with you it seemed, the alcohol brought out the extrovert in you.

“Hey! My name is Y/n. Not suffering…. I’m just saying I’m suffering because,” you paused. And he subtly leaned closer to you, wanting to hear the reason why you’re here by yourself, downing the whole damn bottle.

“…. Just because, okay. Now can you please go so I can drown my own sorrows by myself? I don’t need another pity party,” you sobered up for a moment, then went back to pour yourself another shot.

But before you could take the shot, Jaehyun grabbed it from your loopy hands and took the shot instead.

“Hey! You don’t just take someone else's alcohol! That was the last shot too! Now I have to go buy another bottle!” You pushed yourself up from your seat only to be met with the hard concrete ground.

“You shouldn’t be out here this late, miss Y/n,” he said, his voice laid with concern.

“Who are you to tell me that? I don’t even know who you are,” you pouted, still sitting on the ground. He sighed to himself, showcasing his deep dimples, and got up from his chair to help you up. He was going to try and take you home.

“Hey! What the hell are you doing?!” He wrapped his arm around your waist to keep you up.

“Stranger danger! Stranger danger! This man is trying to kidnap me!” You yelled out. Of course, no one would really hear you. Besides Bong Cha— who was a goodie-two-shoes for Jeong Jaehyun and Jeong Jaehyun only— who walked out of the company right after her boss had. She saw the whole thing go down.

“Stop it! I’m trying to help you!” He struggled, since you were kicking and flailing your arms around in order to prevent him from taking you.

“Help me, my ass. What do you want from me? Taking advantage of a poor, drunk, girl just trying to get in my pants? Get off me fucking psycho. My car is the other way,” you kicked some more. And he gave up, placing you on the ground once more.

“Please, Y/n, you have to work with me here. I just don’t want you staying out late. Who knows? You could actually get kidnapped if I don’t help you.”

“How can I trust you? I don’t even know your name. You may be handsome but it’s always the hot ones that are fucked up. More fucked up than me!” You exclaimed.

He sighed and rubbed his forehead. Maybe he should have just left you at the seven-eleven. But Jaehyun just sat on the ground next to you, a good distance away and observed your ridiculous, drunk, figure.

“I’m Jeong Jaehyun,” he started, “now can you please cooperate with me? I’m trying to help you, here.”

You looked up and squinted your puffy eyes at him. “In your damn dreams, you’re Jeong Jaehyun. Like I’d believe that. I may be drunk but I’m not fucken delusional.” Oh, but you were delusional.

You slowly raised from your seat on the ground and walked your way back to your car, which wasn’t actually where you parked it. The man followed you— sorta like a creep— just to make sure you were safe. But on the way to your car (which was not the right way at all), you bumped into Kim Bong Cha herself.

She hadn’t seen her boss behind you because it was a little too dark but she lashed out at you anyway, “Hey! Watch where you’re going dumb bitch.” You were about to pounce on her until he caught you before you had the chance.

“Let me go! Let me at her!”

The girl was shocked to still see her boss shielding her from you. And she felt embarrassed to let him hear the rude words come out of her mouth. Karma’s a bitch.

“I’m sorry, Bong Cha. Please, go home. And don’t discuss this to anyone. I’m just trying to help her,” he explained to his secretary. Ah, so she was his secretary. That makes a lot of fucking sense.

Quietly, she speed-walked to her car leaving the two of you alone again.

“Why didn’t you let me at her? She was being a rude asshole.”

“Y/n. She’s my secretary. And she’s always been like that. But don’t worry about her, okay. Please just let me help you,” he begged. It was too late for him to just leave you on the road.

You sighed, the dizziness was now getting to you.

“Fine. I need to get to my car, though,” you pushed him off of you.

“I don’t think you’re capable of driving right now,” he retorted.

“Then what the hell am I supposed to do?”

And that was how you ended up sitting in the passenger seat of Jaehyun’s luxury car (the one he drove that day was his Aston Martin DB11.)

That was how you first met Jeong Jaehyun.

So much for first impressions.

—

When you woke up the next morning (with a massive headache), you found the CEO asleep on your couch. All in your shitty apartment. And when last night's events finally hit, you felt like the biggest asshole on planet Earth.

Jeong Jaehyun was sleeping on your couch. In your shitty apartment that could definitely not even compare to his lavish lifestyle. You felt embarrassed all over again. God, what the fuck were you thinking?

You tried to clean up a bit before you woke him up but nothing would fix the slightly stained walls and the old furniture he was definitely a foe to.

After you cleaned up the place, he still seemed to be fast asleep, so you decided to cook up some type of breakfast for him. The rusty refrigerator only consisted of greens (that were about to go bad), a carton of eggs, and a gallon of water. Sunny side eggs, it is.

This was for sure nothing he was used to. He was a CEO after all. The CEO of one of the most popular global brands, might you add. Which made the whole situation so much more humiliating.

Whilst you were cooking, you looked over your shoulder because of the squeaking of the couch Jaehyun fell asleep on. You wanted to fall off the face of the Earth.

Quickly you set the eggs into a plate and placed them next to his water you had already set on the table in front of him. He had only been awake for five seconds and he was met with the hospitality of you.

“Mr. Jeong Jaehyun,” you started, “or— no, yeah. Mr. Jeong Jaehyun, sir, I’m so incredibly sorry for the inconvenience I left last night. You did not have to take me home. In fact you didn’t have to stay the night, which was kinda stupid on your part, not that I would ever call you stupid, even though I just did but-” he cut you off. You definitely rambled a bit too much.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” he slightly laughed, picking up the chopsticks from the plate and eating the egg.

You sat in front of the table, too defeated to say anything. Too defeated to even look at him— even in the few minutes he had been awake, he was more prestigious than you’ll ever be. You didn’t care about who he was. You really did, of course, but after the whole mess, you didn’t even want to be in his presence anymore.

“Why are you so quiet, angel?” The pet name made you feel even worse. Why was he being so nice?

You gulped and looked at him.

“I’m just- I’m so sorry about last night. I was just-”

“Suffering?” He cut you off once more.

The fact that he answered you and finished your sentence made you want to crawl up in a ball and never come out. Last night definitely placed number one in your list of horrible nights.

“Uhm… yeah, that. But-”

“Why don’t you eat, love?” This was the third time he cut you off and the second time he referred to you as an endearing person. He acted as if he knew you for his entire life.

“I’m uh- it- it’s okay. I’m not really that hungry so,” you trailed off, looking down at your hands while you played with your fingers. Just then, he shoved his chopsticks in your face. A piece of egg sat on it. He motioned for you to eat.

You quickly turned your head and shook it, pushing his hand back, “No!” You cleared your throat, “it’s really alright, Mr. Jeong.” You really don’t know why you called him that but it just came out. It was probably the nervousness.

“Jaehyun.”

“Jaehyun… It’s really okay. I mean this is also the least I could do- uhm- especially after last night. Also, my house is a bit of a mess, I'm sorry about that.”

Jaehyun noticed the neighborhood and apartment complex you lived in. Of course, Jaehyun was a nice person so he wasn’t going to comment on it but it was obvious he noticed the living situation you were in. But none of it mattered to him. He just wanted to make sure you got home safely.

“Don’t apologize about that, Y/n. Now eat.”

“I have more eggs in the fridge. I can make my own, don’t worry about it,” you felt your face flush with heat. He caved in and shoved the piece of egg into his mouth, still worried about you.

It was awkward for a long time until he finished his food. You took his plate and cup and put it in the sink.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to wash up? Or maybe-” he laughed.

He had a habit of cutting you off, and you’ve only met this man all of eight hours. Most of those hours you were out cold.

“Stop apologizing, love,” he smiled at you, dimples on full display.

“I’m sorry-” you cut yourself off this time. He laughed again. You were cute.

“I actually need to go to the bathroom. Could you show me where that is?” He asked. You nodded and pointed him down the hall to the left. He quickly thanked you and made his way.

Right when the bathroom door closed, you ran into your bedroom and plopped, face first, into the sheets. How degrading that was.

When Jaehyun was done using the bathroom he got out and called your name which made you scurry out of your room to meet him from behind. You forcefully smiled and waited for what he was going to say.

“Your car is still at the convenience store.” Your fake smile dropped as you scrunched your nose, remembering how he drove you home.

“It’s alright. I’ll walk there later. It’s no problem.”

“But-” this time you were the one to cut him off.

“You’ve already done so much for me. I owe you my life,” you joked.

He playfully scoffed and walked toward you, now directly in front of you,“Just let me drop you off. It’s a far walk.”

“I can Uber or take the bus. Really, everything is okay. I don’t need you to help me anymore. You helped me more than I needed last night and I owe you everything I have.” You were so stubborn. He wouldn’t give up, though.

And there you sat in the same passenger seat as last night.

“I’m going to wash up at my house first. Is that alright?” He looked over to you while at a red light. You had been looking out the window before he said that.

“Of course. Take all the time you need. I’m in no rush.”

—

You underestimated the home Jaehyun lived in. It was pure luxury. Fenced-in house with a security system (that, alone, probably costs more than your apartment), green upkept grass, and a beautiful white exterior and interior that screamed majestic, mature, and regal. It made your home feel like a shit-show. It made you feel completely horrible about yourself.

“Please, come inside,” he opened the passenger side door for you.

Shakily, you unbuckle the seatbelt and exited his car. And he just sweetly smiled at you the entire time. It made you want to cry.

He led you to the front door with his hand hovering the small of your back. You could feel the heat of his hand through your shirt. You took off your shoes and followed him inside.

It was very bright and very aesthetically decorated. With plants (which you weren’t sure were fake or not), paintings that you had never seen before, and knick knacks that seemed too expensive for you to even touch. But he led you past everything in his house and went straight into his bedroom. He had a whole couch and side chairs as well as a fireplace. It was just as grand as the rest of his home.

“Uhm, you can sit on the bed if you’d like. Or the couch, I don’t know. But I'll be done shortly. Please, make yourself comfortable,” he held your arm, informing you. But you were too stunned to speak, so you nodded your head instead.

You sat on the couch, it was a little weird for you to sit on his bed when you barely knew anything about him (and he barely knew anything about you). Plus, you were too busy gawking at his house. And it made you feel self conscious again. It made you feel small; like you didn’t belong. Which you didn’t. So you don’t know why Jaehyun seemed so comfortable with you.

He came out of his bathroom— that was attached to his bedroom— buttoning up his shirt with damp hair. He took as quick of a shower as he could, to not keep you waiting. And through the reflection of the mirror, he could see you with your head facing down again, probably playing with your hands.

“Y/n, love,” he called out. You whipped your head around to his voice, not expecting that to escape his lips.

“Can you please help me button this?” You don’t understand why he called out to you as if you were his lover. Or at least someone he was comfortable with. Couldn’t he see that you were a bit lost?

You sighed to yourself and wiped your palms against your pants, hesitantly walking up to him.

Carefully, you buttoned up the rest of his shirt and looked up at him. He was already staring at you with all the love and adoration in his eyes. Of course, you didn’t realize this at the time. Jaehyun himself didn’t even realize it.

He then handed you his tie, “I hope you can tie a tie?”

You’ve tied many ties in your time of working at the orphanage.

—

Warm Hearts Orphanage held a prolonged special place in your heart. You’d been going to the orphanage as far back as you could remember. The orphanage held children from infants to teens. And everyone there was like family. Even though your little family didn’t have much, it always warmed your hearts to give back to children who were less fortunate than you were. And though you grew up poverty stricken, these children suffered more than you did and all you wanted was to help them.

You’ve seen children come and go, and the thoughts that always come to you is that they lived a happy life. Everyone in the orphanage deserved it. Even the sourest of apples, because all they wanted was to be loved by a family.

That being said, the orphanage always planned surprise parties for those children who had been adopted. It was a nice tradition, and you’ve helped many children get ready to graduate from Warm Hearts into a family that will love them.

—

“I can.”

As you were doing up his tie he slowly raised a hand to pat down your hair. The action made you pause your movements. Then, you realized everything that was going on was completely wrong and inappropriate, so you quickly finished doing his tie and took a step back. Your heart fell to your ass.

“What’s wrong, lovely?” You still felt like you were going to cry.

“I- Nothing. Don’t worry about me,” you fakely smiled again. But, again, it was as if he knew you your entire life because he wiped the pad of his thumb against your lips, making you genuinely frown.

“How can I not worry when you seem squeamish? And these fake smiles plastered on your face. What’s wrong?” He stopped swiping your bottom lip and cupped your face with the entirety of his right hand; thumb rubbing your cheek instead.

You still forced a smile and wrapped your hand around his wrist, bringing his hand away from your face. You felt undeserving of everything he was doing to you. And you wanted to hide your emotions as much as you could.

“I’m okay. You can stop worrying about me. I’m fully capable of taking care of myself,” you released your hold on his wrist and held yours, crossed in front of your body.

This time, with his left hand, he smoothed down your hair and let his hand rest on your face.

“Okay, pretty. If you say so. Now, let’s go get your car, yeah?” You bit your lip and nodded and he led you out of his house with his hands on the small of your back, just like he did when he was bringing you inside.

The seven-eleven you were drinking at just so happened to be located right next to Jeong Peach Corporation. Your car was still parked in the parking lot. And it was still nothing to ever compare to the CEO who was sitting beside you.

You both got out of the car, and he was standing in front of you.

“Thank you and I apologize for last night. But if it weren’t for you, I’d probably be passed out on the sidewalk,” you awkwardly laughed.

“No worries, love. And thank you for your hospitality. I’m happy you’re doing alright,” he responded.

You pursed your lips and pivot your heels to the direction of your car.

“I hope to see you again, Y/n.” Yeah right.

You pivot your heels back to the direction of Jaehyun. The embarrassment of last night and this morning still lingered in your body. There was no way you would see him again. You were from two completely different worlds. And there was no way you were coming back to this seven-eleven.

“I hope so too,” you said bitterly before rushing to your car.

“Y/n!” He said before you could finish shutting your door. You groaned to yourself, stepping back out of your car and facing him again. You wanted to save yourself from the self-bashing already.

“Would you like to… maybe… grab something to eat later?” But damn, he was too nice to turn down. You wanted to say yes so badly, but another part of you wanted to decline. You just didn’t belong in his world.

He was born to an upper class family, you knew that. Everyone knew that. So what would happen if you said yes? You had nothing to offer.

But it didn’t hurt trying, right?

You took in a huge gulp, “…. I would like that.”

“I’m sorry, what?!” exclaimed Danbi while the two of you were washing dishes.

The kids had just eaten and they were now free to do whatever they pleased, whether that was draw, sleep, or take a walk during the good weather.

“Keep it down!” You shushed her.

“I can't! THE Jeong Jaehyun of THE Jeong Peach Corporation asked you out on a date tonight?!” She squealed in happiness for you, making the bubbles fly everywhere.

You told her everything that had just happened within the past twenty-four hours. And she was beyond stoked for you. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity and she knew you deserved it the most. You’d been through hell and back and you’re about to go right back. She knew everything about your situation, you’d both been volunteering here for years so it was only natural to open up to one another.

“No one said anything about a date…. Just a, uh, hangout. Yeah…. a hangout.”

“Y/n, he just met you and he’s head over heels for you already! I’m so excited for you!”

You were excited too. Way beyond excited.

—

Jaehyun said he would pick you up around nine p.m. You had just gotten back from grocery shopping and you now had a little over an hour to shower and get ready. You didn’t even know where he was taking you.

But as you were applying your makeup and looking in your bathroom mirror, everything started shutting down on you. And you were surrounded with nothing but your own, suffocating, thoughts. You were a fraud. But Jaehyun was coming to pick you up soon, so now was not the time to think about it; or at least try not to. Fake it ‘till you make it.

When the knocking on your door signified Jaehyun's arrival, you quickly sprayed some perfume and opened up the door for him.

You were wearing a simple, spaghetti strap black dress with a slit on the side leg and a dark gray blazer with a matching bag. He looked the same as he did when you saw him this morning, except his blazer was now off of his body and he took off his tie which left him with his white button up (which he unbuttoned the first few to give him more of a casual look).

“Are you ready?”

☹ ☹ ☹

I told you I was down bad

You hate to see me like that

Two whole years had gone by and it was almost your third anniversary. Almost, as in, it was six months away. But so much can happen in a mere six months that seem to pass by so quickly.

You were in your apartment, the same crappy apartment you lived in two years ago, crying in your sheets. Your damn thoughts were getting to the best of you again.

And when you didn’t respond to Jaehyun’s phone calls, it was an understatement to say he was worried about you. So he drove to your apartment immediately.

He frantically knocked on your door and almost broke it down until you came to open it, eyes still red from your tears and breath still uncontrollable. Your lover welcomed himself inside and shut the door, holding you so tight yet soft in his embrace in the doorway. He was trying to comfort you with his lips resting on your forehead and his hands carefully cradling your body.

“It’s alright, love. I’m here. Don’t cry. Please. I need you,” he repeated into your hair, rubbing your back and swaying you both side to side. But the action made you cry even more. You didn’t deserve the love he gave to you. Your head rested on his firm chest as you tried to calm down the pain.

“Angel, where are your meds? Are they in your room?”

You nodded as best as you could as he carefully led you inside and into your bedroom. Jaehyun sat you down on your bed before grabbing a glass of water for you to take your pills. You hated relying on him so much. You hadn’t changed. But what you don’t know is that Jaehyun loved you even more than he did two years ago. He loved you because you weren’t afraid to show him such a vulnerable part of the human being you had become. Or so he thought.

You did what you had to do and he carefully pulled you into bed with him. Your head rested in the crook of his neck as he felt your hiccuping breath die down into slumber. He rubbed your back some more, hoping that it would lull you to sleep faster.

You don’t know what you’d do if he wasn’t here. Jaehyun was your everything, as were you to him.

—

When you woke up the following morning, you were still in Jaehyun’s embrace. Slowly, you turned around to check the time and the clock read 5:43

a.m. That was why it was still dark outside.

You turned back around to face Jaehyun and you sadly smiled at him. He worked so hard 24/7 and the purple bags under his eyes proved that. You just wished there was something you could do to help him, just like the various ways he had helped you. Jaehyun has always been there to help. From the day you two met, to this moment, Jaehyun was always your number one.

You shifted around in his arms as he slightly groaned because of the sudden movement.

“I’m sorry, love. Keep sleeping,” you whispered, kissing his closed eyes. He came to your house in his work clothes, though, so you were sure he was a bit uncomfortable. You walked to your wardrobe and found some folded up pajama pants he left over the other night as well as one of his gray hoodies he left ‘not on purpose.’ You gathered his clothes and walked to the bed to wake him up.

“Wake up. If you’re gonna keep sleeping, at least change, love. You’re probably all stuffy in your button up and dress pants,” you lightly shook him awake. He groaned some more before stretching his limbs and opening his eyes. You were the best thing he could ever wake up to.

Jaehyun playfully pulled the blanket over his head and managed to wrap his arms around your waist as you were sitting down beside him. You laughed at his antics and tried to free his grip on you. It failed; and you ended up wrapped under your sheets with him, his comfortable clothes still in your hands.

“What if I don’t want to change,” he challenged.

“You don’t have to,” you teased. “But it’s not going to be my fault when you complain about being uncomfortable.”

His tight hold on you faltered for a moment before he fully released you and took off your blanket from his (and your) bodies. He released a puff and pouted his plump morning lips. The man sighed and got out of bed, taking the clothes you had in your hands and just stripping from his work clothes right then and there.

“Aren’t you gonna change in the bathroom?” You asked, laying back down in bed. So much for getting up.

“Eyy, you know I don’t do that. I’m gonna come back into bed anyway,” he said before climbing in after you and pulling the grey sheet back onto him. As he slid into your bed, you wrapped your arms around his head as he rested himself to be held by you. Jaehyun loved being babied, especially in the early hours of the morning. It was one of the many charismatic features about him.

—

When you woke up the second time that morning, it was only nine o’clock. But Jaehyun seemed to be awake now, cooking breakfast that was sizzling from the kitchen.

Quietly, you sat on one of the stools and stared at him. He was the best thing that ever came into your life.

But why did he openly put himself in it?

You always wondered why Jaehyun stayed. It always turned into panic attacks and crying fits, but you couldn’t help it. He was a part of a completely different social status and you stood out like a sore thumb when you were next to him. It wasn’t like you were ashamed to be his girlfriend; you just thought he was ashamed to have you as his girlfriend.

He should.

There goes those thoughts again.

Unknowingly, you choked a sob which made him turn around. When he saw you, he smiled with pure adoration beaming in his eyes. God, why did he make this so hard?

He shut off the stove and walked toward you, forgetting about the breakfast he was making, it was almost done, anyway. Jaehyun wiped his hands with a towel and walked to you, cupping your face with his right hand, wiping the tear that seemed to fall from your eye.

“Why are you crying, love?” He still held the same, sweet, smile.

“…. I love you.”

He raised you from your seat and just hugged you, lips resting on the crown of your head, swaying you back and forth on the creaky floor.

“I love you more.”

“I’m sorry I’m like this,” you confessed against his chest.

But he immediately raised you from your position, to look at his, now serious, expression.

“Never apologize for something you can’t control. You say sorry all the time, peach. I love that you feel the need to say it, but you really don’t need to say it all the time. Especially in front of me. You know how much I love you, right? For being who you are?” He wiped the baby hairs away from your face.

“You know how much I don’t care how messed up, or whatever you call it, you are, right?”

“…… Of course.”

“Then you should stop being such an amazing person. I don’t deserve you. But here I am,” he laughed, tugging you into his frame once more.

However, you still felt the need to give him the world. You still felt as though you owed him your life, he’d been your boyfriend for almost three years.

And yet you still thought that it was you who didn’t deserve him.

“Now stop crying. You know I don’t like it when you cry. Especially if it’s your damn thoughts that are eating at you.”

You love him so much.

☹ ☹ ☹

I don’t know how you look past

My stupid fucking setbacks

You said it before and you’ll say it again. You’ll say it a million more times; Jaehyun deserved more.

Sometimes, you’ll look in the crooked mirror placed in your bathroom and just think to yourself. Think about all the negatives rather than thinking about the positives. And although there are times you do think about the positives, they all end up with a wretched outcome. And then it’s negative thoughts all over again.

It’s the same routine and you’re growing sick of it. You’ve been sick of it ever since you could remember and you despise people who seem to have it easy. It just seemed as though there was no luck for you. The only luck the universe brought to you was Jaehyun. There are times, though, where you wished you never met him. He was a goddamn CEO and you were a low-class citizen. None of it just made sense.

But you loved him. It just hurts to deal with your true emotions and stow them away from your lover; because you never wanted him to watch what you were going through. Even the thought of it made you want to vomit.

Trauma just came natural to you, apparently. And you absolutely hated it. You just wished you were different, then maybe you wouldn’t feel so guilty about dating Jaehyun. Then he would truly be proud of who you are.

He was already proud of you, though. And he’s told you this a billion times. Your brain just makes you believe that he’s saying it out of pity. He’s only saying it because you’re his girlfriend.

And the cycle continues.

—

You were spending the next couple of days at Jaehyun’s house. It was obvious he didn’t like your lifestyle and wished for you to live with him. You could never bring yourself to do it though; to always rely on him for everything that you do. You were fully aware of what you could and could not do, and you didn’t need him to help you.

Which led you to silently cry away your sorrows in his bathroom. You were taking a bath, in hopes to dial down the overwhelming emotions that engulfed you. Yet here you were, with a flushed face and puffy eyes— the aftermath of a breakdown.

It seemed as though ever since you got into a relationship with Jaehyun, your anxiety only intensified. And that resulted in the thoughts that had been burdening your mind since the day you two met.

Fortunately, he wasn’t home to face the pointless shenanigans that go through your head. So you had enough time to pull yourself together, take your meds, and try to meditate on the balcony that was attached to his bedroom.

The summer nights were cool enough for you to relax your mind before Jaehyun made his way home. You were working at the orphanage the whole day and you managed to pull through the entire day without a single tear, which probably led to the bathroom-breakdown fiasco.

The crickets had been chirping and the wind was starting to blow. That was when you heard the bedroom door open. And when Jaehyun saw the slight movement of the balcony curtains, he knew you were outside doing whatever you do best.

Quietly, the man sighed to himself, placed his work on the side desk and undid his tie. He was finally home. He was finally with you.

Jaehyun opened the sliding door larger than what it was and joined you in sitting on the floor with his legs crossed. At first he let out a long breath and looked out toward the yard which his bedroom was facing. Then, he got tired and shifted toward you.

That happened all in thirty seconds.

Your eyes were still closed as you breathed in. Jaehyun lovingly smiled at you and kissed the side of your head.

“I missed you today, angel,” he broke the silence.

You opened your eyes and shifted your body to face him.

“You say that every day,” you chuckled and played with his fingers. A habit of yours that Jaehyun absolutely adored.

“And it’s always true. I can't wait for the day I get to see you every time I come home.” You felt more guilty that he had the need to say that. And you knew he meant nothing harmful, he was just a caring person and didn’t want you living the life you had. You were better off living with him.

But you joked, “You will. For the next three days. And then I’m off home.”

He groaned and layed back on the cold floor. “Don’t remind me. I want to cherish the time we have now.”

You laughed once more. He was acting as if he didn’t come to see you practically every day. Sometimes, he’ll even leave his job just to come see you at the orphanage.

“Eyy, quit saying that. I’m still here. You come by all the time. Sometimes twice a day. You’ll get sick of me soon, I can guarantee. I don’t know how you put up with me all these years.”

Although you were (partially) joking, Jaehyun sat right up from his prior position and looked at you with his pout and furrowed brows.

“What do you mean, peach? I could and would never get sick of seeing you. Don’t say that.” You were shocked to see him react that way.

You slightly snickered at him and said, “I was joking, love. I’m sorry,” you leaned your head closer to his and placed a little kiss on his lips, to make him sort of forgive you for saying that.

“You better be. I don’t know what I’d do without you, peach,” he kissed back. And pecked your lips repeatedly, several times.

The actions made you laugh out loud and slightly push him away. Jaehyun loved being the reason why there was the brightest smile on your face. So he quietly smiled as your eyes crinkled because of him.

He suggested that you two wash up. However, you already told him you bathed before he came home. And like a child, he groaned and went into the bathroom himself. But he made you promise to wait for him tomorrow. You agreed, because he was your little baby.

As he was in the shower, you cuddled your way into his bed sheets and blanket. The lights were now dimmed and all you were doing was waiting for him to get out of the shower. Hopefully he would be able to beat the slumber that easily pulled you in.

The warmness of the blanket, though, soothed you to sleep and Jaehyun was unable to defeat the unfortunate slumber that casted over you. It was a shame since he wanted to talk to you; ask about your day and what you did. He’d grown used to the look of your puffy eyes, and he knew you’d been crying. He knew you were having a moment the minute he stepped onto the patio. Because the only time you would sit out there was if something was bothering you.

Being the amazing person he was, left you alone, and didn’t ask about what you clearly didn’t want to talk about. He believed that you would open up to him when you were ready. You’ve already opened up to him so much, but nothing would stop him from worrying about you.

Once he got out of the shower and towel-dried his hair, he placed the wet towel in the basket and climbed into bed next to you, immediately clinging to your fatigued figure. God, he would give you the entire world. Jaehyun turned around and shut off the lamp on his side of the bed (yours was already turned off) and hugged you against him, his breath soon evening out to match yours.

And fast asleep he was.

—

The following morning, Jaehyun was awakened with your fingers threaded in his hair and his face squished against your chest. He managed to stretch some parts of his limbs whilst still, practically, laying on top of you.

“Good morning, angel,” he said in his morning voice, “I’m not going into work today.”

As a CEO, you’d expect him to take care of himself (with Jaehyun being his own boss and all) but you didn’t expect him to say he wasn’t going in. Not that you minded, you’d much rather spend the day with him but Jaehyun was a hard-working man, and he rarely took days off.

“I’m not going in for the next three days either. It’s been a while since I took a day or two off.”

“Yeah, but you’re taking four days off, including today. Are you sure you want to do that?”

He was taken aback for a moment. Did you not want to spend time with him anymore?

“There’s nothing wrong with me taking four days off. You appreciate it, no?” He said in the littlest voice which instantly made you regret what you said.

“No, no, no. Oh, I’m sorry my love, I didn’t mean to make you upset. It’s just that you’re so busy with work and it’s just me so you don’t have to-” you rambled.

“And that’s where I’m gonna stop you. You know how much you mean to me, so of course I’m gonna take these days off to spend as much time with you as I can. The company's getting a little busier with a new launch around the corner but I’m sure they’ll be able to survive without me for a few days,” he retaliated.

You sighed, still feeling like an asshole for wording the sentence the way you did. God, could you do anything to make him happy? It felt as though everything you said and everything you did could never satisfy him. Of course, those were just your thoughts.

Jaehyun was happy that you cared about his job, but what he wanted you to realize the most is how much he wanted to be with you. Whatever it was, spending time with you is the best remedy he could ever ask for.

Just why is he never sick of you and your words? You’re sure he would be with how rude you, unintentionally, were to him.

☹ ☹ ☹

When you opened up the door

You let me in when you should have your guard up

Thinking back to the time you finally let Jaehyun crawl through your walls— when he’d let down his walls way before you— the constant feeling of regret and pain constantly filled you. Whether or not the glass was half-full or half-empty, it was always just half. There was never a certain hundred percent yet Jaehyun took his time in letting you trust him as Jeong Yoon Oh.

Thinking back to the time you first met Jaehyun himself, he somehow couldn’t process the red-flag you were oh-so not afraid to show while you were inebriated. He thought you were cute, and the words you were spilling from your mouth, conscious or not, made him feel sort of protective over you. And he didn’t even know you.

It was about ten a.m. when the two of you got out of bed. Ever since the conversation earlier, the air has just been tense. At least for you. You’re sure Jaehyun probably hadn’t felt anything but your brain was constantly playing tricks on you, and this could be one of them.

Your lover is in the bathroom now, as you’re sitting on the bed staring into space with your thoughts locked into your brain. You should apologize. Of course, you want him to stay home with you, but he plays an important role in the economy and in his industry that you can’t help but feel bad for keeping him away from what he loves doing most.

Resting against the headboard, you turn your head toward the bathroom door that was being opened. He walks through and sits back in his spot next to you, although his body is fully facing yours.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I just… I don’t want to keep you here if you have a lot to prepare for your launch,” you sighed and rubbed your eyes.

He laughed, but the feeling of hurt lingered a bit in his eyes as he held the utmost respect to you. “You don’t have to apologize, my love. It’s completely okay. And if they need help, they have my number and it’ll all get fixed with a simple phone call, alright?” He used his right hand to cup your face, rubbing the pad of his thumb against the surface of your cheeks.

You bit your lip in hesitation but you stopped when Jaehyun leaned down and kissed away the bad habit he always noticed you had.

“Let’s make breakfast, yeah?” He whispered against your lips, giving you the biggest puppy eyes ever. You laughed and kissed him one more time before going into the bathroom to get ready for whatever the day was going to bring.

—

Breakfast was absolutely lovely. As it always is whenever you’re with Jaehyun. But for some reason, this morning’s just hit so different.

Today, though, you planned on going to the orphanage just as a surprise visit. Truly, it was your home. Your second home (if you considered Jaehyun.)

“Well, I was planning on getting goodie bags for the kids but… I don’t think I’m gonna. We can just spend the day there,” you were telling him all the things you wanted to do today and the things you wanted to do for the kids there but you were having trouble deciding what to actually do.

“Nah, we can go to the grocery and buy them goodies,” he abruptly said as if it was no problem. Realistically there was no problem. Except you.

“But-”

“No buts. I haven’t seen them in a while, so just consider it a gift from me. Now, let’s finish our food and get some snacks for the kiddos,” he put his plate in the sink as you sighed in adoration (and maybe a little in guilt.)

Grocery shopping with Jaehyun was like grocery shopping with a child. And it was good, because he picked out snacks he thought the children would like, as well as treat bags to put them in. He was a child at heart although he portrayed a stoic and successful CEO.

The two of you sat in his car for an hour in the Warm Hearts Orphanage parking lot packing juices and snacks and candy into the bags before finally walking through the front door.

One of the staff members had seen you and happily greeted the two of you as you walked into the main entrance to the room the kids spent the most. Upon your arrival, all of the children shouted in happiness, greeting you with hugs and questions of the bags that were placed in a cardboard box that Jaehyun was holding.

Giving them out and spending time with them truly warmed your heart as they played the whole day long with Jaehyun.

He was so fond of children and your entire being melts with the sight of him playing with them and catching them up on his launch.

Something about it was heartwarming yet bittersweet.

You don’t know how long you could last anymore.

☹ ☹ ☹

What a painful back and forth, oh

Today was just not a good day. For you and for Jaehyun. He called you in the morning and said he was going to visit you at your apartment when he was done in the office.

Only problem was, it was twelve in the morning when he walked through the door with the extra key you gave him. Your apartment was quiet, excluding the yelling from the thin walls of whichever neighbor.

For the first time since he’s met you, this was the first time he’d actually noticed every little detail about your apartment. From the stained walls to the crack in your window. He felt like he wanted to cry. Jaehyun didn’t want you living like this anymore, that was the truth. And he knew you worked two jobs before committing to the orphanage. He also knew you were never able to pursue college. No amount of scholarships you were given could afford the ungodly university tuition.

And just as he was about to suck up the water forming in his eyes, you walked out of your room, fully awake. You stopped and called out his name. But the ringing in his ears only got louder. And soon he broke down into tears.

You were completely shocked. It was midnight and you didn’t think he would come over because it was so late. But now he’s here, and you don’t know how long he has been standing there, breaking down right in front of you.

“Hey, hey, hey. What’s wrong, angel?” you held him in your grasp as his tears kept coming down.

“Why are you crying? Please tell me, my love,” you pleaded, voice cracking. In the three years you’d known Jaehyun, he was never one to cry. Not one tear. He wouldn’t ever tear up either. So seeing him like this, vulnerable, was both shocking as it is confusing.

“I just…” he sobbed, “I just love you so much. Please don’t ever leave me. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” To you, he wasn’t making much sense but he was still valid to have these thoughts. Some people have their off days and you guessed this was his.

“Of course not, Yoon Oh.” He cried harder, somehow pulling you even closer than before, his head still hiding in the shadows of your neck.

Moments passed by before he finally lifted his head up. He looked so ethereal though he was covered in tears and the image in front of you made you want to cry yourself.

“You’re okay. I’m right here,” you cupped his face with both of your hands, wiping away the tears on his cheek with your thumbs. He does the same to you, although you’re not crying.

“I want you with me forever,” he whispered, searching through your eyes as if he doesn’t know you like the back of his hand.

“I’ll be here.”

You don’t know if you’re lying to him with the response. But only time can tell whether the guilt forever residing in your heart gets the best of you and inevitably, to the best of him. But he’ll get over it right? He’s Jeong Jaehyun after all.

—

You’re now laying side by side on your bed. He is being cradled in your arms as he continues to calm down in the drowsiness of the late hours of the night.

“I’m sorry about breaking down earlier. I just… I don’t know, I just felt super overwhelmed all of a sudden I guess,” he lifted his head up to look at your moonlit face.

You shook your head and stroked his hair. “Don’t apologize. You deal with me all the time,” you dryly chuckled.

“Because I know what you go through… But thank you,” he rubbed your back.

“For what?”

“For being there for me when I need you most. I really appreciate it…” he trailed off for a moment, “I really appreciate you.”

“Please…” he continued, “Come live with me.”

You don’t know if it was sympathy, pity, pure love, or all of the above. But Jaehyun was very much aware that he could treat you like a queen. Which he already does, and that makes you all the more hesitant.

“You know that-” you’re cut off.

“I know. I know you refuse to but please. You’re my entire world, Y/n. I can’t even explain to you in words how much you and your entire existence means to me,” he’s desperate now. So desperate to finally have all of you. So, so desperate to watch you flourish into the beautiful bouquet he knows you are.

You sigh and continue to wrap your arms around his broad shoulders. “I’ll think about it.”

But the both of you knew the true meaning behind those words. Yet neither of you can say a word.

☹ ☹ ☹

It’s hard to ignore all of my problems

You couldn’t even count all of the imperfections and impurities that you had hiding within yourself. So much so, that you seem to project those imperfections onto the people around you. To the people that you love.

And sure, they might not notice them— ignore them, in fact— but they are clearly written out right in front of you and they don’t ever seem to go away. Which is probably why they say ‘you are your greatest enemy.’ It was true.

Yet of course, these thoughts had to swarm your mind at the grocery store. Grocery shopping, for crying out loud. With Jaehyun and with bunches of people who are too nosey to not look at you and not whisper to themselves as to why you are crying.

With the shopping cart full, Jaehyun pulls it over to the side so as to not create traffic, and pulls you closer to him by your arms.

He pushes the hair out of your face and leans down to see you. All of you.

“What’s wrong, my love?” He shushes you and wipes the tears off your cheeks.

This was absolutely terrible. Even the most domestic and everyday tasks were a hassle. And you felt like you were burdening Jaehyun in the busy market that only the wealthiest people had shopped at (since you were staying over Jaehyun’s again for a few days.)

“Nothing, it’s- I’m okay,” you sucked in a breath and wiped your tears before looking up at him to meet his worried gaze.

“Are you sure?” He squinted his eyes.

You took in another breath before nodding.

“One hundred percent sure?” He patted your flyaway hairs down. You nodded again.

“I need words, angel. To make sure you’re okay. Really okay.”

“I’m okay, I promise,” you try to give him your best smile.

He only responds with the softest kiss to your forehead.

“I need you to be with me,” he whispered against your skin.

“I am. One thousand percent. I’m okay,” you whispered back, now getting self conscious of the scene of you and Jaehyun canoodling in a grocery store on a Wednesday at eleven a.m.

He believed you, however the rest of the shopping trip went by slowly, awkwardly, and quietly.

You wished you could change the way you think.

☹ ☹ ☹

Cause I'm no good (Ooh), you could do better (Ooh)

You should walk out, it's now or never

Ninety-nine percent of couples argue. Those statistics are completely true. No matter how often or how little, couples everywhere have their fair share of fights.

You and Jaehyun are one of those couples that rarely fight. Today, however, had not been very good to the both of you. Stress, anxiety, and more stress were eating at the both of you and now it landed you here. Just great.

“I don’t need you constantly taking care of me! I’m perfectly fine on my own!” You shouted toward him.

“Clearly you’re not if you break down every other day! I just want you to be okay,” he lets go and sits on one of the chairs in the living room. His face is hiding in his hands as he feels the anger and disappointment run through his brain.

Noticing this reaction, you sigh and furrow your eyebrows. It’s silent for a fleeting moment. “Why? You know I’ll be okay.”

You sit on the couch, opposite of the black leather chair Jaehyun is sitting in.

“I know how much you’re hurting. And I don’t ever want you to feel those terrible feelings ever again. I want to be here for you and I want you to know that I want to be here for you. Can't you understand?”

It isn’t too much after he let out those words that you feel the tears fill up the sockets of your eyes and the void of the room. The walls that had now captured the two lovers screaming at each other now hear the abundant silence between them.

“I can't give you anything. You do so much for me and I’m just here.”

“I don’t care. No materialistic thing could ever compare to you just being here with me.” He gets up and sits next to you, making sure you know he’s with you the entire way.

“But it’s not enough.”

“Yes it is, Y/n. And I don't know what else to say to get through that thick head of yours. I love you for being you. And I love you for accepting me for who I am, not who I need to be. I don't need you to offer me anything besides your love.”

“That's the thing. I can only offer you my love.”

“I don’t care! Y/n, you need to realize how much you affect me. And I can't let you go around saying those words because they hurt me. It genuinely hurts me to hear those words.”

“…. I'm sorry.”

“Y/n, you truly don’t know how much you help those around you?”

It was silent for a moment.

“You work in a damn orphanage, for crying out loud! For fun. And it just makes me appreciate you. Appreciate how much you enjoy the happiness of other people. It’s all I could ever ask for.” He wiped the tears falling from your eyes.

“Please don’t cry. I just need you to know how much I love you. Why can't you see that? Do you not love me anymore?”

With zero hesitation, you released his hand from your face and stood up, “No! Don’t say that! Of course I still love you!”

“… it’s just that…”

“Don’t even say it, Y/n.”

The gloomy night has come to an end. And yet Jaehyun will not— will never— leave you behind.

☹ ☹ ☹

Gonna regret being too honest

Callin' it love, but this isn’t fallin'

It’s the following morning. It is truly a gloomy morning, in fact. The rain was slowly pouring, the wind was rustling against the trees, and the upcoming fog coming from the ocean was painting the neighborhood.

The minute you woke up in Jaehyun’s arms, you remembered the fight the night prior. And, God, did you feel like an absolute ass.

Could this be it? It’s been three years and yet the question still lingers. Just why? It seems as though you bring him so much pain and yet he has chosen nothing but enduring the repercussions of your wrath.

You gradually regained the strength to get up and without a minute to spare, you quietly escaped out of Jaehyun’s protective arms to make breakfast. Some sort of remedy to help heal the pain of last night's argument.

You sat on one of the island chairs waiting for the food to cook in the oven. Slowly but surely, you were once again trapped in your thoughts. Were you being too harsh? Were you being too honest? Were you actually enough to be with the most amazing man on planet Earth?

All of these questions were paused by the padding of feet coming into the kitchen. You look up at him, not expecting anyone else. And in his dazed glory, Jeong Yoon Oh was still the most precious human being that had ever entered your existence.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing you’re able to say before finally crying. Crying the waves of emotions that you felt the night before yet did not physically show.

He didn’t say a single word. He didn’t have to. All he did was take you in his embrace and whispered apologies and sweet nothings into your ears. The rest of the morning went by with stuffy noses and quiet munches.

—

“I’m sorry about last night,” you apologized once again, sitting on the bed watching him get ready through the mirror.

“It’s okay. I’m sorry too. I just want you to know that you can lean on me. You’ve been able to lean on me for years now…. I didn’t mean to yell but desperate times call for desperate measures,” says Jaehyun.

“But I'm not desperate at all, you know that.”

“Yes but don’t you know I’m so desperate for you?”

337 notes · View notes

itsvaleriesucka · 4 months

Text

the devil inside me

pairing: demon!joel miller x fem!reader

rating: explicit 18+ (minors dni)

word count: 5.5k

summary: you’ve been struggling on maintaining your medication regimen lately. have no fear, the devil is here to help and make you feel better.

warnings: indications of prescription medication and mental health, brief stabbing, light blood, slight tears, rough sex, unprotected p in v, f!masturbating, fingering (fem self/receiving), creampie, dirty talk, praise kink, breath play, spanking, hair pulling, age gap (50s/20s), dom joel (obvi), sub reader, no use of y/n, no outbreak

a/n: hi everyone! it has been a while since i’ve written stories. i had fun writing this so i hope you enjoy and if there are any mistakes or warnings i’ve missed out on, let me know so i can add/fix it. please do not read if you’re sensitive to any of these topics. you have been warned.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The only sound you were able to pay attention to. It muffles out the sound of your lovely therapist who’s trying to engage in a conversation with you. Your tunnel vision takes its toll, blocking out her volume and blocking the other objects that surround the quaint office.

You blankly stare at the large clock mounted against your therapist’s wall. Does it need to be ridiculously large like that? Your eyes followed the second hand, the way it raced along the numbers to approach the number twelve for each given minute to pass for when this session could be over.

“Pay attention.”

The voice in your head hissed. It causes you to jump away from your own thoughts. Your eyes readjusting themselves back into reality. You straighten your posture and lean yourself forward to reach for your glass of water that was offered to you before the start of your session. All of a sudden you were thirsty because you wanted to forget you were in a deep trance. You noticed your therapist had a frown upon her face. She removed her glasses and settled her notebook and pen upon the glass table that was in front, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Have you been listening to anything at all?”

You swallow the remaining liquid down your throat and place the glass right on top of a coaster that adorned nicely with the table.

“I was listening.” You murmured and leaned back against the soft cushion of the leather couch to try and relax your body. Lord knows how many individuals sit where you are sitting. You stared right at her disappointed gesture.

“Liar.” There’s that voice again.

Your therapist knew you were here for the main course of obvious reasons and she wanted to help. A decline in your mental health took a massive toll within you these past couple of months. More so your moods which tend to shift from extreme erratic highs and depressive lows. You rarely get the desired sleep you’ve been longing since nightmares tend to creep up on you. You’ve been hearing a certain voice for the longest time. Dating back to when you were a young girl actually.

During your childhood your parents were concerned when they found out you’ve been talking by yourself. At first they both thought it was normal and that having an imaginary friend you’ve envisioned from the top of your head was also normal. Most children tend to do so at a certain age.

What wasn’t normal is when they found certain drawings marked with crayons and markers of yourself with a demonic being in every single one of your drawings you’ve created on an old sketchbook. Oh yeah. Completely normal.

“Have you been following your medication regimen your psychiatrist prescribed you?” You nod in response to the question and smile.

“Of course.”

Your smile begins to slowly fade away when you suddenly see him.

He is sitting right beside your therapist. His eyes, cold and lifeless, scan the look that’s expressed upon your pretty face. His smile is so despicable – so wicked. He taunts by shaking the bright orange bottle that rattles within the room. It’s an indication that it’s full. It’s a painful reminder that you have not been taking your medication.

Your therapist noticed your eyes weren’t directly at her but at something else. She turned her head to the side to see what exactly were you staring at. From her point of view, there was just an empty seat.

“What do you keep staring at?” Your eyes dart back at your therapist. You exhaled the tension you held right through your nostrils. Your eyes, again, dart at the spot where he was sitting.

He was gone.

----------

Surging winds whistled and droplets of water trickled down the window of your bedroom. A crack of thunder was heard miles away. The sky was angry as you liked to call it.

You had your eyes closed shut. Too shut. A feeling almost as if you were trying to prevent your eyeballs being gouged out from both your eye sockets. You twist and turn, feeling the fabrics of your sheets against your bare skin with each sprightly friction that was being made.

Beads of sweat raced down alongside your temples and forehead. Your own sweat dampened the cotton fabric of your sleepwear which caused it to stick against your skin. Your body temperature was warm on the inside but you felt cold as ice on the outside. The blankets weren’t doing you much justice. You squirmed and released a low whimper.

Your heart races and pounds against your aching chest. With each pound your breathing hitches and hitches.

You are having a dark dream — a nightmare.

Why is it that every time you are trying to run in your dreams, you feel sluggish? You always somehow forget to run as fast as you can. You can’t keep up with your pace. Damn. What is the matter with you?

The nightmare comes to an end when you feel a sharp blade pierce your lower abdomen. He caught you.

His menacing laughter echoed within the trapped dark void you’re currently in. The pain halts your tracks. Your mouth gaping wide open at the sudden stinging sensation. Screaming and crying was the only option here. He draws you close by reeling you towards him with the handle on his blade. The silver metal still stuck deep within you. Your eyes meet his. You couldn’t see clearly enough with the amount of excess tears forming from the corners of your eyes. Everything in a matter of seconds was a blur.

You were too focused on trying to maintain your vision upon his glares. His movements. His features. Too damn focused to even care to notice your own blood pooling down his hand that grasps the handle of the knife, your legs, and down towards the ground. His tongue glides slowly against the side of your reddened cheek to taste the salty liquid. You couldn’t respond. You want to speak up but you’re struggling to find the words. Your lower lip quivering is the only response you can give.

He proceeds to remove the sharp knife with a swift pull and lick your blood clean off the blade with one swipe, releasing a satisfactory hum from tasting your own blood.

“Wake up.”

You’re wide awake.

You scream and lunge forward, sitting upright and pressing your lower abdomen tightly. A strike of lighting illuminates your room, causing a loud crack to startle you almost half to death to the point you could’ve fallen off your bed. Your breathing is completely unsteady. You looked down to where the blade originally pierced you and thankfully, no holes, no blood, no blade.

No him.

You reach over towards your nightstand and turn your lamp on. The light illuminates your room, revealing the usual furnishings and decorative accessories adorned. You cautiously scan your room to see if you weren’t alone. It took a moment for you to realize you were the only person in your own bedroom, thankfully. You can feel your own heartbeat returning at its own peaceful sync and your breathing maintaining its rhythm again.

You reminded yourself that it was only a nightmare, you weren’t stabbed, you aren’t dead. You’re safe.

From such a nightmare you had and having to know how sticky and wet you feel from sweating, this calls for a shower. There’s nothing more peaceful to know how the water will run and touch your skin. How your loofah will gently scratch and rub away all those disturbed sensations you felt. The aroma of calming lavender from your favorite body wash filling your nostrils.

You wasted no time hopping out from your bed, grabbing a clean pair of pajamas from your drawer and leaving your bedroom to head straight to your bathroom.

----------

The steam fills the air of your bathroom after your peaceful shower. That was so needed. You had a towel wrapped around your body tightly. You grabbed your phone to take a look at the time, swiping away the steam that covered the screen. Only half past one. You sighed and figured it will take a while for you to go back to sleep. You’ll probably read or maybe watch a movie to catch that melancholic drift again.

You opened the cabinet that was positioned right in front of you and above the sink. You grabbed your toothbrush and toothpaste that was stored inside. You paused for a moment to stare directly at the orange bottle. It adorned neatly just waiting to be grabbed and open to drink. These pills are only here to help you feel better. You’ve been struggling to keep up with your regimen because of how impatient you become when you don’t feel or see the results you’ve been wanting. There’s always been trial and error to the point you’ve given up due to the side effects. It’s normal you think. It’s a new prescription, a new dosage. It really wouldn’t hurt to actively try.

Without another hesitation, you popped the top open and tossed a white pill inside your mouth. You cupped your hand underneath the faucet to allow the water to fill within your palm. You take a sip to help swallow the pill down.

You placed the orange bottle back into its rightful place and closed the cabinet. Your reflection was nothing but a blur, again, due to the steam from the shower you just took. You gently positioned the palm of your hand against the glass to swipe the steam clean.

“Pathetic.”

The voice was loud inside your head. Your entire body took a sudden screenshot. Your heart felt like it was going to come right out of your mouth along with the pill you just took. You glanced back and he wasn’t standing behind you. There was nothing and nobody. You stared at the reflection of the person that stared back in return. You began to back away but almost slipped due to a small spot of puddle from your shower when you stepped out. Your back pressed against something solid yet soft, something that was definitely not the wall of your bathroom. It was definitely not your head or back against the ground either. You felt arms underneath your own arms holding you tight to ensure you don’t fall.

He helps you regain your balance and you probably pull away faster than your own beating heart. You turn around and tilt your head up, eyes finally meet again. You feel like you’re reliving your nightmare. Only this time, it was real and you know it.

“Did I scare you?” He reminded you with a sly grin that paints across his face.

The fact that he had the audacity to show up after messing with you in your own dreamland was far too much. You rolled your eyes, ignoring him, and walked around to grab the handle of your bathroom door and opened it. The moment you did he was suddenly standing outside. His arm over his head with his elbow resting on the wooden frame of your door. Staring down at you.

“That wasn’t funny, Joel.” You remarked.

Joel was his name. At least that’s what you have always called him when you were young. You see, he’s always been around you. Ever since you and your parents moved into that old home back in Austin, that’s when he began to appear around you. You thought he was your dad’s best friend or a neighbor who came by to visit. Only to learn that Joel never exists. Your parents never knew anyone by that name. You’ve come to learn that he was just a figment of your own imagination.

At least you thought…

“You know you don’t want to take them.” Joel teased. He followed behind you. Here we go. He is, again, painfully reminding you of how reckless you are and you’ve been in denial about your medication. You don’t want to be reminded by your reckless actions. You don’t need this conversation right now.

“It’s late. I want to be left alone.” You continued to walk towards your bedroom and slam the door shut in hopes that’ll make him disappear but it absolutely doesn’t. You should know better by now. You’re too exhausted to process your thoughts. He’s appeared sitting right on the edge of your bed. Eyes all over you.

“You think those pills will make you feel better?”

If there is anything that Joel enjoyed doing besides teasing you is he loved to have you on your last nerve. He knows you’ve never enjoyed the sound of truth.

“I want to get better. That’s all I want.” You defended. It’s true, you did want to get better. But you weren’t completely telling the truth all the way and he knows it.

“Don’t lie. You want to get rid of me.”

You paused right on your tracks. Your back is only facing him. The only sound filling the room is the rumbling sound of thunder and tiny droplets of water that pours from the sky down to your window and to the ground. Those words he mentioned hits you right in your own stomach. You can almost feel your stomach completely flip.

“Oops, did I say too much?” Joel released a low, devious, chuckle. A chuckle that caused you to shiver right where you stand. It was an eerie sound. You turned around to look at him.

“You know you can’t get rid of me.” Joel coos, almost mockingly.

He knew pushing every button you had and tormenting you amuses him to the core. It gained him power and control. It’s just the satisfaction he absolutely needed.

“You know how pathetic you look when you lie. Have you forgotten who I am? Nothin’ but a silly “ol’ imaginary pal” as you like to call me.”

“Stop it right now Joel…”

“No matter the amount of pills you take,”

“Please…shut up…”

“I will always be around you to remind you how weak you are.”

That’s where you felt a certain tick inside your head. A bomb. An explosive atomic bomb that seemed to spread all across your room.

“Leave me the fuck alone! Get the fuck out!” You snapped. All that anger you released caused you to form tears from the corner of your eyes. You felt the streams on each reddened cheek racing down. Your heartbeat briskly picks up its unsteady pace. You covered your eyes to refrain your tears from slipping out. You didn’t want to cry in front of him, you at least try not to but you just can’t help yourself.

You think he’s going to calm you down and apologize? You thought wrong.

You felt a sudden grip on both your wrists. He uncovers your wet eyes to stare directly into them.

“Watch your fucking tone with me!” You can feel his anger through gritted teeth. He growled. The way you felt his presence is rather dark and eerie. Another crack of lightning was heard. You felt the ground and walls almost shake from the loud sound. The light from the bolt illuminated your room yet again. Only this time it revealed his own shadow behind him that depicted a terrifying figure. A figure with large stretched wings and sharp horns.

He is the devil. A demon who managed to latch onto you this entire time. A demon who likes to stay and torment you because he knows how very fragile your mind is.

“You’re hurting me! Let go!” You tried to pull yourself away but he’s stronger than you. He kept his grip firm until you began to lose blood circulation. His hand clenched around both your tiny sensitive writs. You were starting to think he might’ve burst a vein by now. Your mouth gapes open in response to the uncomfortable pain.

“Hurting you?” He shushes you, his tone cold as ice. He releases his grip on your wrists that were now red and bruised. He caresses your damp cheeks. Wiping every tear drop you’ve released out of your own frustration with his thumbs. Oh, he missed a spot. It didn’t take him a second to hesitate by licking your last tear, tasting the salty liquid.

From the way his tongue lounged languidly alongside your cheek, your eyes widened in response to the sudden sensation. You lightly panicked and managed to step away since it reminded you of your nightmare. Shit. Was he going to stab you now?

“Don’t…” from anger to pleading was a sight for sore eyes. With every step you took backwards, Joel stepped forward. Not going to lie, you were a bit petrified by his known demeanor. His imposing appearance was indeed breathtaking. It was merely a disguise. His stoic expression gets you every time and has you rethinking about your own self worth. There wasn’t much space left when you felt your lower back pressed against the desk of your vanity, clutching your towel that miraculously still wrapped around your body. You focused on trying to maintain steady breaths all while your chest heaved. You knew there was nowhere to go anymore. You knew you can’t run away forever.

“I aint gonna hurt you…” to your surprise, Joel forced you to turn around. You can feel his grip against your arms, restraining them both behind your back. He had you right where he wanted you to be. You can only see what was going on through the reflection of your mirror, “I wanna make you feel good…”

The way he talks. That southern accent drawl sounded pure as honey can be. You knew damn well what he meant by feeling good. Your mind was telling you no but something else was oddly telling you yes.

“Not only are you pathetic but you’re beautiful when you’re scared…”

Joel pressed hungry kisses behind your left ear, following down towards your soft neck, and against your collarbone.

“Let me ease your tension away.” Your eyes fluttered shut in response to his slick gesture. Goosebumps rising to the surface of your skin. It felt good to feel his lips brush along your skin. A soft whine escapes past your lips when you feel his teeth scrape against your flesh where your pulse is located, leaving a lovely fresh purple-red mark.

Without a fair warning, Joel swiftly removes the towel away from your body, allowing the towel to drop to the floor. The cold air that touches your, now, bare skin causes a shiver to run down your spine and goosebumps to appear. You began to feel your own blood circulating to your cheeks. You felt embarrassed because he has never seen you this way. At least from what you can remember. You felt your own cunt lightly clench at the way he continued marking you, his territory. He left love marks against the empty spots of your sweet neck down to your shoulder. Your core was already starting a fire. He can sense it.

“Look at you, already eager and I barely touched you.” Soft chuckles escaped past Joel’s lips. He hums approvingly at just the sight of how fluttered you’re feeling. You open your eyes and stare at the way his eyes just scan and travel up and down your bare body. Hungry hands gripped and squeezed each side of your waist. You watched how his hands motion their way up towards your breasts. You earned yourself a firm squeeze. His index finger and thumb pinches and tugs your left pierced nipple. He found the silver jewelry that adorned your hard nipple quite attractive.

“I want you to touch yourself.” He commands in a tone that was awfully iniquitous. You blinked your eyes a few times, snapping back into reality from the alluring fantasy you were just in. You wanted to make sure you heard him correctly.

“E-Excuse me?” “You heard me.”

Touch yourself? You’ve only done so within the privacy of your own room. Never in front of someone, never ever in front of Joel. You began doubting yourself at this point. What if he’s actually seen every move you’ve made in bed? He is the devil after all. They’re nothing but sneaky tricksters. If he has seen you naked lying in bed, touching yourself with your toys, he would’ve made a move. What difference would it actually make to do so right in front of him? It’s too late to back down now. You were in a lust trance, you knew you could do this.

Before you can mention anything else, he beats you to it by grabbing your delicate hand with his free hand to slide it down towards your cunt. He positioned the tip of your index finger upon your sensitive nub. You felt like nothing but his toy puppet at this point. You didn’t pull away, you didn’t scream. You were curious – you were wanting to see where this goes.

Without his help you slowly began to rub small circles against your clit that was beginning to swell from the friction of your own finger. Your breathing was picking up through your nostrils, chest slowly heaving. The sensitive sensation of your own touch was starting to feel good.

“Good girl…” The way he praised you caused your cunt to once more clench in response. His hands grabbed your hips to thrust yourself back towards him. You felt his hard cock that was strained against the fabric of his pants press hard against your ass.

Your own precum glistened your delicate cunt. You slide two fingers across your folds to lubricate them to allow your clit to become wet and easy to rub. You daringly slip your index and middle finger inside your wet hole, pushing your fingers inwards and out at a steady pace. Your head fell back against Joel’s shoulder while your eyes remained shut to concentrate at only the way your fingers rubbed the insides of your walls. You started to release soft moans that vibrated against your throat.

You felt Joel’s hand caress your inner thigh and without any warning you felt another finger slide into you. A sudden gasp escaped past your lips. You released another moan. This time, that moan was loud. He hums from your reaction, “Yeah, that’s it.” Joel forced you to remove your own fingers and guide your hand towards his mouth. His tongue licks every bit of your remaining juices from your two soaked fingers, savoring your taste.

The way his finger slides inwards and outwards easily was elating. When it comes to this aspect of intimacy, you’ve never had anyone touch you the way the devil is. Something about his own touch hitting your own g-spot has got you thrusting your hips to the rhythm and pace of his finger. You were filled with anticipation of wanting more than just his own finger.

“Oh fuck!” You mewled. Joel held you tight in place by wrapping his other arm around your lower abdomen. He didn’t think twice about slipping his middle finger inside. He bites down against the flesh of your shoulder, hard enough to draw blood. You were too aroused at this point to even deter the bleeding pain. Joel curled his fingers to ensure he’s hitting every sweet spot inside of you. Squelching, wet, sounds explicitly filled your room.

“J-Joel I’m gonna cum!” You regret even mentioning you were about to climax because the moment you did, Joel abruptly stopped.

You opened your eyes at the sudden pause. You were dazed and confused. You tried to catch your breath to speak but you were too weary to find the right words. Only mumbles slip past your lips. Your brows furrowed at the hot sensation subsiding. You wanted to reach your orgasm. You were absolutely needy.

“Don’t stop…why’d you—“ To your surprise, Joel grabbed a fistful of your hair and pulled your head back for you to come face to face with him. You whined at the sudden painful gesture.

“Open.” He commands and you obliged. You should be embarrassed by the way you opened your own mouth so goddamn fast. It’s a slight shame but you didn’t care at this point. Joel slides in his two fingers that are soaked with your warm lubricant juices into your mouth. You closed your mouth and released a satisfactory hum. You sucked your own juices right off his fingers languidly. You maintained eye contact the entire time.

“Atta girl…” his wicked smile wide across his face. He removes his fingers from your mouth the moment you finish. Joel caresses the side of your face, almost petting you. Without warning he walked over towards your bed, his hand still maintaining a firm grip on your hair. He released his grip and pushed you against the mattress of your bed.

You landed right on your abdomen, the air escaping straight from your lungs at the sudden motion. You turned around and positioned yourself on your back, elbows resting on the firm mattress on each side of your body. Your eyes stared right at his thick hungry cock. Shit. From the way his cock felt pressed against your rear, there was no doubt about it he'd be that huge. Your mind quickly shifted thoughts as you noticed his clothes managed to disappear all of a sudden.

“How did you remove your clothes so fast?” You couldn’t help but release a snarky smirk. You wanted to giggle. Joel couldn’t help but crease his brows together, a look of disappointment showcasing his face. It suddenly became the usual stoic glare he’s always expressed. You know damn well he can reappear and disappear at any given moment. What a poor question to even ask.

To silence you and without any warning, he turned you around. Your back arched while your ass perks up. He spreads both your cheeks to reveal your needy holes. You felt your cheeks becoming hot again against your face. You weren’t going to lie to yourself, you felt rather embarrassed to be in such a position to the devil. Someone who has been by your side ever since gets to see your most valued parts. Kudos to that.

“Shit! W-Wait! Joel I don’t think—” Joel silenced you with a strong slap across your ass cheek with his hand. The stinging sensation caused you to shriek. Eyes slightly form tears from the crude reaction.

“Fuck!” You squeaked. Another hard slap across the same spot upon your sensitive skin.

“You just can’t seem to shut up, can’t you?” Joel was tournamenting you. It finally occurred to you that he wanted you to stay silent. He wanted you to be a good girl for him. You pressed your lips together firmly at the last rough slap he made in contact upon your now reddened skin. You muffled out your scream from the intense pain. A teardrop managed to escape from one of the corners of your eye, staining your bedsheet.

“That’s better.” Joel assures you. He didn’t bother rubbing the pain away. Instead, he propped each cheek, spreading them apart again in order to lubricate your holes with his own saliva. You felt the dribble of his warm liquid making contact. You felt the way his saliva slid past your gaping hole and towards your aroused entrance. A whispered hum was released within you. You managed to wiggle your rear slightly and positioned yourself farther back.

“Such a needy little slut, are we?” He teased and grabbed his throbbing cock that was already begging to slip inside of you. He gave a few swift pumps to help ease his tension.

“Please fuck me…” You did not hesitate to refrain yourself from pleading. You kept your back arched, waiting for his next move. “You’re being nice now, hm?” He positioned the tip of his cock right towards your cunt. With one last tease, you felt the way his tip brushed against your wet hole, feeling his precum mixing together with yours. Without a warning, the inside of your walls began to stretch open. You released a sensual moan with your face planted and resting against your mattress. You clenched the fabrics of your sheets while he’s balls deep inside.

The lewd sound of skin slapping against skin echoed all around your room. With every thrust Joel caused left you breathless and groaning. The stinging pain subsided and formed into a warmer sensation. There was nothing left on your mind but arousal. All your current problems you had going inside of your mind are gone. Any responsibilities you had to attend to, also gone. You felt his strong arm wrap around your stomach to pull you up and away from your mattress. Your back pressed firmly against his broad chest. Joel kept his grip to hold you tightly in place. His other free hand squeezed your neck firmly. You barely breathed. You began to see stars from how strong he kept his grip tightly against your neck. Hell, he’s definitely going to be leaving you sore the moment you wake up.

“You’re such a fucking good girl,” with every thrust, your breath punched away from your lungs and you moaned. You felt the tip of his cock forcefully hitting your cervix all too well. “My fucking good girl…you belong to me.” Joel reminded you and released his grunts and hot breaths right against your ear. The way he grunts has your head spinning like crazy. Both skin felt tacky from sweat forming.

“You’re never getting rid of me…you’re mine.” Even with his hand firmly against your throat, you managed to miraculously speak with a soft straining tone all while he’s fucking you senseless. “I’m yours…mmm…your cock feels… s’good…” All you can do is just whine and cry. The sensation you felt happening inside of you was too much to bear. You were starting to feel overstimulated. You wanted to pull away to rest and catch your breath but he didn’t stop. The devil wasn’t going to let go of you. No man had ever managed to fuck you this rough. You were beginning to discover a new kink of your own that was hidden all this time.

“Being fucked by the devil feels good doesn’t it…?” Joel released his grip and grabbed both your arms to position them right behind you again. He leaned you forward to better position himself to hit nothing but your cervix and your g-spot. His pace is rougher than before. Your sore pussy clench and squeeze around his throbbing length, milking his cock exceptionally. You felt your climax about to rise and hit you any second now.

“Oh yes, yes, yes! It feels so f-fucking good!” Your eyes rolled towards the back of your head when you flickered them both shut at the inevitable sensation that exploded within you. A tingling sensation showered all across your body down to your core. A slow wave crashed over you to cause your legs to tremble. Your breathing was heavy. You tried to gain consciousness. Joel groaned and felt the way your cunt pulsates against his cock. He continued to thrust vigorously. The squelching sounds of both your juices dripped upon your fabric bedding. With one last harsh thrust, Joel buried his cock deep inside, almost piercing your cervix to release his cum. His strained grunts filled the air with your moans. You felt his hot seed paint and fill inside your sweet walls. “Mmm…fuuuck…” You giggled at the sudden high all while your vision was slightly impaired. Joel removed himself away from you, cum dripping down the back of your legs onto your mattress. He lies besides you, directly on his back, to catch and steady his breath. You slowly regained your consciousness and lied down beside him. You also focused on trying to also steady your breath alongside him.

Joel pinched the sides of both your cheeks to purposely have your face towards his. Your eyes slightly widen at the unexpected rude gesture. “Don't underestimate or lie to me next time.” He shoves your face away and straightens himself up. He moved away from your mattress. You lift yourself up and turn around to take a look at him. Your eyes dart and scan upwards and downwards at his clothing attire that suddenly appeared. A sly grin revealed itself from the corner of your lips. You tried so hard to abstain yourself from teasing him. “How did you put your clothes on so fast?” There was just silence and judgment filling the room. The only sound to interrupt the silence was just the roar of thunder. The sky is still angry and pouring down hard. Joel shamelessly shook his face, almost questioning your odd demeanor. Without another word he vanished, leaving you all alone naked, wet, and dirty. You sighed in return. This calls for another shower. Not only did Joel leave you alone, he left you lingering when your next devilish encounter will be.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller #joel miller x fem!reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #the last of us #the last of us fanfic #tlou fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal smut

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loserlvrss · 2 months

Text

꒰ 𝐆𝐎𝐍𝐄 ꒱ 이민호

summary : it's coming up on your boyfriends' death anniversary, and something's finally telling you to let go

genre : angst, minho x afab!reader tws : angst, death, grief, depression, various substance abuse, mentioned suicide, various suicidal thoughts, very slight reference to religion author notes : maybe i cried idk word count : 3.4k

skin to skin. it’s what most humans crave. the contact and warmth of someone; romantically, familiar, platonically. all humans are the same. we are designed to crave a comfort since birth, to form connections beyond intellect. we look for anyone and everyone who could fill that desire… and when abandoned, nothing will ever feel like enough.

“you’d never leave me, right?” you said, tracing small circles on the tan skin of your boyfriend, whomst you love with your entire heart. he was everything to you, and you him, “you’ll stay with me forever, right?”

you bounced lightly as he chuckled, “of course,” you felt his hand grip your bare side harder, “forever.”

“promise me.” you held up a pinky, and his eye cracked open at the shade behind his lids.

he stroked your side gently as he brought his other hand up, locking his smallest finger with yours, “i promise, y/n.”

the bitter reality hit as your eyes opened. you couldn't figure out the time, and honestly you didn't want to check. the void of color in your room — life — was enough to always put a dampen on your spirit, and ultimately, day. you turned over, and for it being a relatively good dream, you were drenched in sweat. you reached across the bed, the sheets wrinkled where you hadn't been sleeping. but, you were alone, and it sunk whatever was left of your heart.

you grumbled, borderline whined as you turned over. you don't know why there was an actual pain shooting throughout your body. you don't know why the impending desire to just lay there until the end of time consumed you. you don't know why your eyes teared up, creating a watercolor painting against the dimmed colors of your room.

you don't know why you were always questioning what was real and fake nowadays. you could've been caught up in a nightmare — you figured you could wake up any moment and not feel this jaded in your everyday life — but it never subsided.

you didn't want people to tell you that everything would all be okay. you didn't want people to tell you that depression passes. you didn't need anyone to know that what you felt right now was less than human. you didn't need the memories to remind you of what can't be washed away; of what you can't get back. you didn't want to lose those moments in time though, like you had lost the real thing, because it was all you had left, but knowing that you couldn't make any more felt like ripping stitches.

it was acid on a never healing wound knowing that peace was something you only felt when asleep. and the only way you got to sleep nowadays was with the aid of various drugs.

it was an unhealthy habit. a struggle you knew shouldn't feel as good as it did. but a vice is still a vice whether it has that name or not.

your hand reached to the side table, finding your phone and ultimately leaving it face down. you continued to search until your hand found a rattling bottle — an orange pill bottle — that peers would say you practically lived off of. and you did. only ever feeling remotely like yourself when a couple were thrown to the back of your throat to dissolve into your bloodstream.

you truthfully didn't know the dose you were supposed to be taking, everything dulled down by your seemingly never ending high — you never being sober because it was too hard to — and you definitely didn't know why your psychologist kept prescribing them. maybe she had no idea that you were on the edge of a cliff, just desperate for an excuse to topple off it, but you found it hard to believe that she was that bad at her job.

you felt like you were just a lifeless vessel being controlled by the fumes clouding your brain. yet, if you wanted to stop, you would, right? it wasn't an addiction if it was willing, was it?

maybe. but truthfully your secondhand high was too strong for you to care. so, you lit up another carelessly thrown about blunt, inhaling the smoke until you were completely numb. until you couldn't feel your fingertips. until you couldn't form a coherent thought.

until you couldn't remember why you wanted to die, too.

you trudged the scene your bedroom was in: clothes, packages, bottles and other miscellaneous things littering the hardwood. despite being alive, you felt like you were drowning. a physical sting in your chest. a deep sigh that never escaped your lips. you were walking on broken glass with every step, but the pain would never be comparable to the turmoil you already find yourself in.

if this wasn't hell, you didn't want to know what was.

you never turned on any lights, the windows being covered by curtains 24/7. you could see through the flimsy fabric that the sun was barely still up, or maybe it was just gracing the sky with its' presence. you didn't know, and if you didn't have to make a living in a capitalist society, you wouldn't care either.

you would be contempt living (more like going about) your day inside the confines of your home. sure, you hated being alone, especially with your thoughts, but you were never truly alone; haunted by the ghosts that paint your walls in a dark shade of red; and you were never sober enough to think anymore.

never letting yourself feel the gravity of grief, quoted from your therapist, is not allowing you to receive closure, to heal from the loss of someone you gave your entire heart too.

however, closure, in your fucked up mind, meant forgetting. and as much as it pained you, chained you down in the depths, you couldn't let go of the memories. even if you ended up dead because of them. at least, you thought there was a chance you'd be able to meet again that way.

you weren't in denial, like your all-knowing doctor seems to think. no, you knew what happened. you remember it clearly despite trying your hardest to cloud it out. you couldn't be going through the stages of grief if they never changed — they couldn't even be considered stages if they've turned into your despised lifestyle.

you loved, but hated the never changing facial expression. you loved, but hated the liquid that made you so slurred. you loved, but hated the fact that someone you couldn't have left you with the door wide open. you loved, but hated knowing that maybe you weren't good enough to make him want to stay. you loved, but hated that you are still so in love with him when he's, where? if he could see you in this state, would he be able to say that he once loved you too? if he could see you crying every night, dressed in the clothes of his that you have yet to wash, would he still think that out was the only way in?

he was your everything, even after everything had ended.

so, why weren't you his last thought? why didn't he even have the decency to write you a letter in embodiment of his dying wish? why couldn't he just give you the answers you used to so desperately yearn for? even in death, he had to be the selfish one. wasn't leaving enough? you didn't know.

but, it's been 12 months.

those answers never came, and now you didn't expect them to magically appear. not after you tore apart your entire apartment, inch by inch, crevice by crevice, coming up empty like it was a cruel fucking joke. like you were a rat trapped in a cage, on the hunt for cheese that was behind an unreachable wall.

you used to wonder if you had done something differently, complained less, listened more, would he not just be the rain that splotched your skin.

it's as if the sky was mocking you. as if it's asking if you really had the audacity to be upset with something you couldn't control.

but you were only half alive, barely half a mind to think of anything rational when your stability was ripped from under you like it was just a flimsy rug to being with.

you were free falling, and you never learned how to fly.

“y/n,” your eyes tried focusing as best they could, but the flashing lights were making your head spin more than it should, “we have to check inventory before opening. the boss said someone’s been stealing — and we’re not accusing you because we know what you take.”

the woman in front of you, your coworker of a couple years brought her hand to rest against your forehead. “are you okay? you seems worse than normal.”

“u-uh, yeah.” she eyed you in disbelief, “i’m good.”

you weren’t, but you still followed her behind the bar to crouch down and count the bottles. you’d probably use most of them anyways, as tonight was always the busiest of the week.

truth is, you weren’t even sure what number you were on when you fell onto your butt, catching your coworkers attention. the booming music making your chest bounce with the bass, and the in-time lights spinning and flashing and changing was throwing you off.

even if you were crossed, you’ve never had a problem getting your work done. you could even fight back the nausea, the discomfort and dizziness that it caused your body — but today, today was different.

you weren’t in-tune with anything. not being able to beat the funk. even when you tried to stand back up, you put your hand on a bunch of napkins, slipping and falling right back to the ground. it was frustrating, borderline humiliating. even as she tried to help you up out of the good in her heart.

you felt tears brimming, “y/n. it’s okay, let’s just get up. i can take inventory. you seem like you need to rest for a little bit before opening.”

stupid, useless, unbelievable.

why couldn’t today just go the way it was supposed to? you kept wondering if this was a cruel joke. today of all days had to be the worst on top of everything it stood for. it had to be someone’s doing. and whoever’s been controlling your life must’ve been one sick individual.

you, at least, hoped they were happy in your misery.

you huffed, forcing yourself onto your knees, hands splayed over them. you looked at the bones of your knuckles, wondering how hard one had to hit to get knocked out — you were always better unconscious than conscious.

then, your eyes set on a clear bottle. it was filled to the brim with a blue liquid that you didn’t even bother to read before pulling it off the shelf. you opened it and took a long swig. when you finally put it down, your coworker had a horrified look on her face.

you gave the bottle up easily when she reached for it, “y/n… what’s the matter with you today? you need help. seriously, i’m so sick of you fucking everything up!” she grabbed at your hands, trying to get you to stand up, but you were too heavy for her to even begin to move; a dead weight, if you will. “oh my god, get up! all you do is get high and throw a pity party! how long is this going to be? how do you even live like this?”

it was a question you heard often. how do you even live like this? but they didn’t know living would be such a painstakingly long journey. sure, maybe they were only asking because they cared, because they were genuinely curious, but you had no answer.

and you feared you never would.

was living truly worse than dying? all signs would point to yes. maybe he had the right idea after all…

you heard whispering above you, “it’s his death anniversary today, j-just — let’s just send her home. we can deal with it tonight, right? customers aren’t going to want to see her drinking their drinks. help me get her up. she’s miserable.”

you felt like you had lost all control — seemingly having none to begin with — you got up on your own, something within possessing you, and stumbled to the door.

maybe your coworker was right. maybe you do fuck everything up. maybe you were miserable. maybe that’s why you’re here and he’s not. maybe that’s why you can’t seem to grasp the sand that keeps slipping through your fingers. maybe you were better off with the same fate as the one you loved so dearly. maybe the depression would finally consume you, like your therapist said it would if you didn’t intervene, like you’ve been praying day and night for.

you wanted to die, but you always thought it would’ve been in his arms.

now, you were cold. a wondering spirit searching for the only thing that could set them free; and what you feared is knowing that that thing wasn’t something that you’d ever find.

you swear you could feel a hand on you. a grip on your shoulder that kept pulling you back. but maybe that was your diagnosis of trauma-induced hallucinations. because truthfully, your derealization and depersonalization had gotten so bad your doctor thought about prescribing you anti-psychotics.

however, you’d have to un-ghost your psychiatrist for that to ever happen.

your breathing was labored, the earth spinning too quickly for your liking. you tried to blink away the blurriness, but the sky was also too bright, despite the rain, making you squint.

it seemed everything was retaliating all at once. it’s said karma catches up with bad people, and were you finally falling victim to it?

no, you were just falling.

falling so hard that you can’t even remember what happened next. did you pass out after hitting your head on the concrete? did you die? you could only hope for so much.

your eyes opened, but the world seemed different, colorful once again; a dusty orange hue to the air. you looked around confused as to how you ended up back in your room.

did someone find you? so you hadn’t hit your head hard enough to die; maybe next time, you thought.

you looked to your feet as they left wet footprints behind on a clean floor. all of your boyfriend’s clothes were folded nicely on the bed, as if someone had just washed them. it no longer smelled of mildew and various rotting substances. you couldn’t even find the couple grams that were on your nightstand this morning. but there was also another smell wafting through the air; a smell of tea and cherry blossoms.

much like that night 12 months ago.

the night everything in your world had come crashing down upon you. the night you lost every part of yourself to the grim reaper. the night you lost the game you thought you were winning. the night you lost the only love of your life.

the night minho, your boyfriend of six years, committed suicide.

he left you to relive every waking moment without him like life was a cruel fucking joke on you. left you with the pitiful looks friend and family would give you. left you with funeral preparations and arrangements. left you with heaps of chrysanthemums. left you to weep as the cherry blossoms fell from the trees and snow from the sky.

he left you in every season, and you never knew why.

you never knew why the radio static sounded like him. never knew why the smoke would bounce off his silhouette. never knew why you prayed to someone who clearly wasn’t real — who clearly didn’t care to hear your pleas — but, god did it bother you once you’d figured out you wasted all that time. you never knew the why of a lot of questions, and it left you feeling nothing but empty; numb; jaded; hallow; anything that spelled out that you were just a walking corpse with very low cognitive recognition.

you found it hard to believe he loved you as much as he did. but if face-to-face, you’d forget that thought ever crossed your mind, because at the end of the day you were beyond devoted to him. he was your soulmate, and you’d find him in any lifetime, you were sure of it.

so, why couldn’t you let go? why couldn’t you do yourself the favor and move on? whether that be in this or the next life. why couldn’t you follow his lead and find him once again.

maybe you would finally awake from this torturous nightmare —

“minho?” you all but shouted out against the gentle breeze of an opened window, “minho? are you there? is that you?”

you heard the pattern of steps on wood, soon met with the face you’d not grown to forget. he looked confused, concerned at your obvious state of disbelief, “are you okay, baby?”

you felt his hands on you, watching as they slowly followed the length of your arms, finally pulling you into his chest.

you wanted to ask how, but you know that you only ever see him when you’re high. but you didn’t feel high right now; and you obviously knew what it would feel like if you were, after abusing anything you could get your hands on for a year.

you wanted to come up with any excuse, but the very real scent of his cologne (that had faded from his hoodies after a couple months) filled your nostrils. you felt comforted, which hasn’t been something you felt for what seemed like decades. minho was the only one who brought you solace, but he had left you. so how was he — no, how were you here right now?

god, you must’ve finally hit your wall. you must’ve finally found the breaking point and flew past it. you had finally gone insane, that was the only real explanation you could come up with.

your therapist said it would happen if you didn’t quit, but why would you ever listen to her? hell, maybe you should’ve. but, if this was insane maybe you didn’t really mind being enclosed in his arms.

but it felt wrong. how could you spend months of your precious life grieving the fact that he was dead, if he’s hugging you right now? how could you spend all your time getting high enough to not feel sad if he was right here in front of you?

his flesh felt real, but so did the ache in your heart.

“h-how?” he hummed, not entirely hearing what you said. you pushed him back, but the grip on your forearms remained, “how are you he-here? how are you alive? y-you killed yourself, minho.”

he seemed confused, a slight smile still adorning his features though, like he couldn’t believe the prank you were playing on him. but to you, he looked so real, just as you couldn’t erase from your memory — a snapshot in time that you captured oh-so-long ago.

“you’re dead, i-i was there. i buried you!” the room seemed to lose all color — like it’d been splashed with arctic water, a shiver running up your spine — which once had an orange hue, was now a dark shade of blue, like the depths of the ocean.

his face lost the smile, ice lacing his fingertips almost like he had been deep in the dirt rotting away. “i found you minho. i-i tried to save you but it didn’t work! i tried, i swear i did, b-but,” tears brimmed your eyes, quickly making their way in valleys down your cheeks. your voice was weak, but you hadn’t used it much in the last year anyways, “you were dead, minho! the emt’s pronounced you dead at the scene. y-you’re not real. y-you left me. i watched them put you in the ground. i cried for hours, minho! i stayed with you for days. i prayed to a fucking god i don’t believe in to make you come back to me! i only ever saw you inside my head, when i wished upon every star it was real! minho, you’re gone.”

his words were a push to the knife that only ever danced upon your skin, never plunging and never drawing blood, “then, why won’t you let me go?”

reblogs, likes and comments are greatly appreciated! thank u!

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mypimpademia · 8 months

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How would Izuku take care of his darling when she has her period :(

— Cycle

Izuku x Fem! Reader

TW: None

⇶ Izuku is always a sweet and attentive boyfriend, but he’s especially doting on and around your period

⇶ He can always tell when you’re about to start from your eating habits, cravings, sleeping patterns, etc.

⇶ Always very understanding of any mood swings you may have, because he knows your hormones being all over the place can be very difficult

⇶ Comforts you if you get sad, even if it’s over something little. Gives you space if you’re irritable, cuddles you if you’re feeling clingy, reassures you if you need reassurance, and so on

⇶ Stocks you up on all your favorite snacks, candy, and drinks that you normally crave during your cycle, and of course pads, tampons, or what ever you use

⇶ Izuku watches your comfort movies/shows with you while you eat them and he massages any body aches you might have

⇶ Keeps a heating pad or heated water bottle everywhere for you if you use them just in case you get really bad cramps

⇶ And of course, he carries emergency pads/tampons/cups/etc as well as spare underwear for when you randomly get your period or if you need to change by don’t have anything on you

⇶ Carries around painkillers too if cramps, headaches, and body pains get too much. If you’re the type to have extremely painful periods, or have prescribed medication, he knows it won’t do much but it’s something

⇶ Hands over his sweater without you even asking if you ever leak through your pants

⇶ Izuku stay in bed with you all day if that’s what you want, he knows periods can be exhausting, so he has no issue doing nothing but eating snacks, watching tv, and taking naps with you all day

⇶ Izuku wants to do nothing but take care of you all the time, and is always waiting on you hand and foot, no matter what

—

Taglist: @megurulvr @ivanari @planetlunaa @romiantic @szaplsdropthealbum @dreampurpledreams @goldenglow149 @gender-queery @roaringlion @cosmiles @tatiquichi @kxtsxkii @lillizxzz @starsoir

Send in an ask or DM me to be added to all taglists, or fill out my form to be added to select ones.

—

Thank you for reaching, comments and reblogs are appreciated! Follow for more!

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canyourfavesurvivecastledracula · 3 months

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Can Rose Maybud survive Castle Dracula? That etiquette book of hers seems to be more useful than you'd think for confronting the Gothic... on the other hand, she's probably delicious.

Sweet Rose Maybud! Both polite and virtuous, and probably autistic af. Of course she's delicious - but she's so kind, she would offer Dracula something else to ear first. This apple, perhaps?

Of course she accepts the crucifix. Etiquette demands it. But it is improper for young ladies being abducted by strange Counts at night to imbibe alcohol, so she declines the Slivovitz. Her book probably has a whole chapter on how a Gothic Heroine ought to behave. Never encourage your Evil Foreign Count or Bad Baronet in his wickedness - you must win him through forthright virtue.

Rose will not go exploring unescorted, nor will she sleep in places she has been instructed not to. Her manners are far to good for that. Nor would she dream of asking to be released early. ...nor is she going to commit the extreme impropriety of removing her shoes for the purpose of wall climbing. (We know from Mina what a social, aha, faux pas that would be)

Rose is also not afraid to correct other people's etiquette. She will show Dracula in her book exactly where it is inappropriate for an Evil Count to enter a young lady's private rooms before she is dressed. Especially without knocking.

Oh my God if he throws her book out the window what does she do??? Does she go berserk? Does she BSOD? Does she quote him by rote how impolite that was??? Does she find a new copy in his library?

Or does it not come to that because there's no blood involved, so Dracula is more at his ease? Does Dracula recognize what a resource he has in her - not just a dialect coach but an Etiquette model? He does not want to stand out as a foreigner after all - the things she could teach him about pocket squares and exactly how to shake hands in the English fashion. What the most socially acceptable ways are to stalk pretty girls in Picadilly.

Rose has truly amazing powers o !!!!f persuasion as well. She seems almost preternaturally able to convince people who actively wish her ill to back down in the face of her Sweetness and Virtue. She might well be able to shame Dracula for his breaches of etiquette in such a way that he's like "oh sorry my bad" at least until he gets out of the room and is like .....wait a minute.

Now I am imagining Dracula doing his whole "It is a vile thing - an insult to friendship and hospitality" bit and Rose just going "no it isn't, look here on page 143, it says a maiden engaged to be married may send coded love notes to her paramour no more than twice a month, and only if the contents would still be within the rules of etiquette if spoken aloud" and Dracula has no idea what to do with this information. Rose would be so hurt by the implication that she was doing anything that might contravene her Rules of Etiquette.

Now all this is assuming that her book of etiquette actually does cover getting carried off by an Evil Foreign Count and/or Bad Baronet. Rose is not going to rules lawyer things in her favor - she will absolutely take actions against her own interest if they are prescribed by The Book, and she is not great at... contextualization. Or getting creative with it. She's following her book, not weaponizing it. Her survival is going to be entirely dependent on how well her book anticipates this precise situation, and how tolerant Dracula is of her innocently schooling him in this way.

But I guess it's all moot because when she gets to June 30th she's going to be politely waiting for the Calèche to come and then the Girlies will eat her. Maybe she's the blonde vampire that gets first dibs on unlabeled solicitors. I think she'd make a really great vampire, honestly. So she can probably last the two months, but not actually make it out alive.

Having reversed myself three times, I must sadly say that Sweet Rose Maybud can not survive Castle Dracula

#ruddigore #rose maybud #gilbert and sullivan #ingenues #opera and musicals

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bearsbeetsbeskar · 9 months

Text

Somebody to Heal, Somebody to Hold (Joel Miller x dispensary! reader) 🍃 🔥 💨

Chapter 1 : Moonberry

Chapter 2 here || Chapter 3 here || Main masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x dispensary! reader, AU no outbreak Rating: none, will be changed to explicit in future chapters (slow burn, eventual smut, age gap) Summary: Joel can't rely on pills anymore for his back pain, so his doctor prescribes him medicinal marijuana. But he's not happy about it. Word count: 6.6K A/N: This is a shameless indulgence because I wanna see PEEPAW get HIGH. He needs it, his BACK needs it. He's not gonna like it at first though 🌚. A thank you to my literal heart and soul @iamasaddie who listened for hours on end to my rambles and creative word vomit about this idea, I love you forever. I will add the tag list later tonight. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

“God fucking damn it.”

Joel’s resounding growl reverberates throughout the empty house as he slams another kitchen drawer closed with a loud thud. He impatiently rifles through the drawers one by one in a failed attempt to find any pain killers, any fucking pills he can get his hands on, really. His hands flit through stale takeout menus, spare remote batteries, streamers, matches and other miscellaneous odds and ends with no avail.

He even went so far as to look in Sarah’s bathroom cabinet above the sink and her dresser drawers too. The pieces of furniture in her room somberly coated with a thin layer of dust, marking her absence ever since she left for college a couple months ago. He didn’t have any success. No Advil, no Tylenol, not even any RUB A535 or joint pain creams to be found in any corners of the seemingly empty Miller house.

Damn.

She must have taken anything she had with her off to college when she moved into her dorm, Joel surmised. The dresser’s groan as he shuts it close rivals Joel’s, that rips from the back of his throat as he feels another sharp, needling pinch in his lower back. It eventually subsides into a dull ache but he knows he doesn’t need to move in any abrupt or particular way to trigger the same said infuriating pain, sending shockwaves down his back, through his spine. He grits his teeth and rests both of his palms on the textured surface of the wood, trying to ground himself as his back rounds and he hunches over. Looking up into the mirror attached to the dresser, he grimaces. Recoiling from the image of an old man with hollowed circles under his eyes, grey hairs littering his head and his permanent scowl.

Joel is old. He knows that much. The years on him are telling. Aside from his physical looks, his knees are shot and there isn’t a day where he has to physically brace himself to bend down, swing his legs out of bed, or hoist anything above his head when he’s out on jobs. Even his ability to pick up jobs and swiftly finish them as if he was a sprightly 35 year old with a slightly athletic build has slowed down tremendously. It takes him twice as long to seemingly do anything nowadays, regardless of whether it’s physically laborious.

Hell, he even struggled when it came to moving Sarah into her college dorm room. Even though she remained in state and her campus wasn’t more than a 2 hour drive away, and multiple trips could be made, Joel steeled himself to ensure he would be there to do the heavy lifting, and only have to do it once. Enlisting Tommy’s help would have made it easier as well but of course his younger brother was too gregarious for his own good. Aside from showing up 40 minutes late, with a 6 pack of Lone Star in his hand and forgetting the tools he was supposed to bring, Tommy was more easily preoccupied setting up the mini fridge he bought for Sarah, Which of course Joel scolded him for, and joking around with other freshmen in the dorm.

The harsh reality is that the harder he tries to forget about it and ignore his persisting aches and pains, the more his body and mind humble him without fail that he is old. Broken. Might as well be, seeing as he’s about losing his damn mind without having any painkillers to pop and wash down with a glass of whiskey.

He recalls the fruitless conversation he had with the doctor two weeks earlier which had placed Joel in his current predicament.

“Getting older is a facet of life Joel, I’m not gonna lie to you about that. And you’re an otherwise healthy guy, aside from your cholesterol creeping up a bit high and the occasional spike in your blood sugar.” His doctor told him frankly as he flipped through Joel’s medical history.

“Unfortunately your body is just responding to the stresses of doing physically intensive work, as it does with any other person when they age.”

Joel opens his mouth, already ready to refute the doctor's next words, when the doctor holds his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, you’ve been doing the same job for years. Nothing about being a contractor has changed. The fact of the matter is the job remains the same but you have changed Joel. Your body just can’t keep up as quickly, nor can it recover as quickly anymore. All that heavy lifting, straining the same muscles over and over in fixed positions, it’s just catching up with you now.”

Joel crosses his arms over his chest and grinds his jaw. “I’ve been managing just fine,” he grunts, not trying to hide his annoyance through the lie.

He had been trying to take it slower in the past couple months. The key word being trying.

Sending Sarah off to college was no easy feat financially, especially as a single parent, but Joel wanted to give his daughter the best chance at a college education, knowing how bright and determined she was. He worked hard to save for her tuition, the first two years that is, but he wouldn’t admit he was running himself into the ground trying to pick up more jobs than he could handle on his own, in order to save up for the rest. Forget the tuition, there was also the cost of residence for living on campus, her textbooks, a laptop, student association fees and a whole bunch of other crap he couldn’t wrap his head around.

“Back in my day you just went to your lectures in the same building, wrote in the same notebook, and used the computers on campus,” he grumbled as he squinted at the tuition balance outlined in the letter sent by her college. There were more zeros than necessary behind said balance that already had Joel’s mind spiraling into a panic.

“I thought you only did like, less than a year of college before you dropped out to start working in the trades Dad,” Sarah quirked her brow at him smugly.

“It was nine months,” he corrected her, “long enough for me to realize that it wasn’t for me.”

“Not long enough for you to learn how to properly use a computer though,” she smirks as she watches Joel start scribbling numbers down onto a piece of paper, reverting to mental math instead of using a calculator.

“It was a long time ago smart ass,” he chides her despite the warmth in his eyes. “Besides, you were still so young. I was spending more time outside of the home, working and trying to juggle school, away from you and your mother. It wasn’t ideal. The trades allowed me to be flexible with my hours, while being able to spend more time with you”

His doctor gave him a sympathetic look and sighed. “If that were the case, I don’t think you would be here and we would be having this conversation right now would we?”

He sits down in his chair and wheels over to the computer sitting on the desk, clicking this and clicking that as he filters through the previous medications that had been prescribed to Joel, before he turns to face him.

“Now in any other instance, I would prescribe you slightly stronger painkillers than what you’ve received in the past,” Joel subconsciously starts nodding along, ready for the spiel about his prescription dosages and what not. “But, because your cholesterol is a little high right now, I can’t do that.”

The crease in between Joel’s eyebrows deepen as he tries to anticipate what the doctor tells him next.

“The side effects from an over the counter painkiller could spike your cholesterol even higher, which is what we do not want,” the doctor continues, unaware of Joel’s steadily boiling frustration. “Which is why I wanted to suggest an alternate method for pain management, something more natural.”

For fucks sake.

He thought this would be a simple appointment. Show up, get a new prescription for whatever magic pills can help this pain in his back to dissipate, and go home. Not look into ‘alternative methods’ that undoubtedly wouldn’t work.

Joel’s gaze narrows and he huffs, leaning back in his seat. “Natural? Like what, seeing one of those hokey practitioners that read your energies and use natural herb remedies and all that crap?”

“Not quite that per say but it is natural medicine. Medical marijuana to be exact.”

Joel’s mouth goes dry as his jaw hangs open. Weed? Nope. Not the solution he was looking for.

Maybe what he should be on the market for is a new doctor at this point.

“Uh listen, I appreciate the suggestion doc, but I don’t think that’s gonna help me at this point. I don’t do that kinda stuff,” he waves his hand dismissively. “If it gets to that point I’ll crack open a beer.” Joel leans forward in his seat and he starts to get up.

“Just a second, hold on. At least let me write you a prescription for it today and you can choose whether or not you want to get it filled at a dispensary.”

“I don’t think-” Joel continues to protest but the doctor cuts him off.

“It’s medicinal marijuana Joel,” the doctor says plainly, as if that’s supposed to calm his nerves. “It has opiate-like properties, which means it’s similar to a pain killer, just without all the usual side effects that come with over the counter medicine. Lots of individuals, older and younger,” the doctor pointedly emphasizes, “use it to help with aches, pain, anxiety, even mental health issues. Not just the physical.”

Joel continues to eye the doctor warily, his spine now stiff as he sits up in the chair. Even now, he can feel his body protesting his upright position, the inkling of that pinched phantom pain coming back slightly.

“Does it get you high?” he asks the older man.

Aside from the stories he’s heard, he’s had his fair share of buddies who used to toke up back in the day. Hell, they didn’t even know what was in it back then, they just smoked as a distraction, something fun to do, to take the edge off after a long day's work. Joel tried it once and didn’t like it at all. The hazy, fuzzy feeling not mixing well with his frayed nerves, glassy eyed and out of touch with his body. No, he would much rather crack open a beer or pour himself a whiskey neat to kick back and relax when he was stressed.

“Not necessarily, some strains, or some kinds of weed have a higher content of THC, tetrahydrocannabinol, the psychoactive component that makes you feel high or ‘out of it,”’ the doctor explains with finger quotes. “Some medicinal marijuana are low in THC but high in CBD, the relaxing component of marijuana. CBD acts as a relaxer, and it can ease physical pain. So depending on what you’re comfortable with, you can opt for the kinds that have a high CBD but low THC content, which will help with any pain issues, without causing you to experience the high.”

Joel’s mind whirls around the acronyms. THC, CBD, ABC. Christ. Does it have to be this fucking complicated?

He knows his doctor is only trying to help at this point, basically just doing his job, but this is way beyond Joel’s comfort zone. He inhales deeply and leans back against the chair as he resigns himself to this conclusion. Seeing as there are no other options.

Picking up on Joel’s internal freak out, the doctor explains. “It’s a lot of information to process, I know. But like I said, take the prescription and think about it. There’s a new dispensary in town here where you can go and take the prescription, have them fill it, chat more about the options and see how you feel. If you’re still adamant about the painkillers then come see me in a couple weeks and we can discuss it more. I want you to try a few things to lower your cholesterol in the meantime.”

His doctor writes the prescription on the office letterhead, and hands it to Joel along with a card for the dispensary in town.

Fast forward to the present, Joel turns around from the dresser and leans back against it. He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out the prescription slip, the paper now visibly creased due to the number of times he had folded and unfolded it in contemplation. Of course it was near impossible to make out the doctor's chicken scratch handwriting.

Must be a requirement of all medical school grads. Step 1, learn to write illegibly, step 2, graduate

He is able to make out the other writing further towards the bottom of the slip, where the doctor haphazardly scribbled out ‘cholesterol’ and underneath it read ‘less red meat and beer, more omega-3’s (fish and eggs), and more fruits.’

“Might as well buy a fucking casket at this point,” he grumbled to himself. If there was a world where he couldn’t enjoy a juicy ribeye steak along with a cold beer anymore, well, he had pretty much resigned himself to the conclusion that that was not a world he wanted to be in.

—-----------------------------------------------------

“Alright so we have the Pink Kush Indica loose leaf at 3.5 mg, at 19.7% THC, and the Strawberry Rain hybrid pre-roll pack at 22.4% THC, a very good choice by the way. Is there anything else I can help you with?”

You smile warmly at the customer you’re cashing out at the front till. He’s a young guy, no older than 19, maybe 20? Legal age, but with the way this kid’s eyes are nervously darting around the store, looking at everything but your eye line, you correctly assume it’s his first time buying marijuana products.

“No, nothing else, thanks,” he mumbles as he fidgets with his coat pockets, before paying and quickly snatching up his purchases and shoving them in his pocket, briefly turning to exit the store.

You chuckle to yourself internally and shake your head, remembering what your first time was like when you legally bought from a dispensary after the government legalized marijuana.

Despite its legality, you were a fucking deer in headlights as the dispensary worker tried to explain to you the differences in strains, types of weed, paraphernalia that you could use to consume it. Wholly consumed by the guilt of acknowledging you were purchasing illicit (yet completely legal) drugs, you scurried out of the store as quickly as you could after getting what you needed. What would your parents say if they found out? Not that they ever would, but the ever present shame that needled and cracked through the facade of their wholesome daughter, their good girl, consuming such a horrendous drug, the devil’s lettuce, now that shame loomed over your head constantly for a long time.

You sigh and turn to go into the back storage room. Only 1 hour left until close luckily, yet somehow the last hour of your shift always seems to go by the slowest. Go figure.

“Let me guess, 19 ?” Your colleague Josh guesses with a presumptuous smirk on his face, as he continues to count the inventory of vapes in your storage room.

“Try 21! I believe you owe me dude,” you hear a chirpy voice chime in, as you look to see your other coworker Stef strolling in right behind you.

She holds her hand out expectantly as she approaches Josh, as he slaps a $5 bill into her up-facing palm, a smug grin plastered across her face. Stef usually worked the front door so naturally she would remember the ages of most customers that walked in, after scrutinizing over their ID and making dismissive comments about their appearances and age. Sometimes she was too blunt and outspoken for her own good, but you would call her out on it, all good natured. She was your best friend from elementary school. So naturally when she began working at One Plant and a part time position opened up, she hounded you about it constantly until you came into the store with a copy of your resume, briefly chatting with the manager at the time.

You gasp with feigned sarcasm as you cross your arms over your chest, leaning against a supply shelf.

“You guys said you would stop betting on the customers last week! C’mon now.” You reprimanded them lightly, a half hearted attempt to be the voice of reason, despite the smile on your face. Stef and Josh both outranked you in terms of seniority as they had been working at the shop longer, but it didn’t stop them from concocting new shenanigans every fucking week to make the time go by faster and make your shifts more entertaining.

“What? The kid looked like he damn near was having a fucking seizure when I was checking his I.D.. Yeah he’s technically ‘legal,’” she emphasizes with air quotes, “but he looked like he got lost on a fucking field trip, poor baby.”

You roll your eyes and shake your head once again. Stef may be blunt and take the mick out of customers with a thinly veiled sense of self restraint, but you loved her. She made the days go by faster, as did Josh, lord knows he put up with so many of your antics. It’s a miracle he kept you both in the store at all, despite his threats to take you both off schedule because you couldn’t contain the bullshit amongst yourselves. He joined in on the fun once in a while, giving you a break and empathizing.

“They’re getting younger and younger everyday, I swear.” Josh chimes in as he does a double count of the inventory before logging it into your system.

“I suppose back in your day, you just bought whatever you could from the local dealer who lived in his mother’s basement, right grandpa?” Stef poked at him, as she sat down and propped her feet up on the table used to package orders, scrolling on her phone.

You snorted as you began to tidy up and organize the stock for the following day, preparing any orders that were due for an early pick up. Grabbing a pack of indica pre-rolls here, a couple vape cartridges there, putting away the bongs and pipes that were out on display.

It’s true, that despite the government legalizing marijuana over a year ago, there was still a large influx of customers who were new to consuming the herb, in the face of its notoriety as an illicit street drug. The dispensary saw all manners of people who came in seeking relaxation, calmness, appetite inducing, sensory heightening products. You almost couldn’t believe it when you started working here.

Customers ranged anywhere from barely legal college kids, who couldn’t tell the difference between sativa or indica and couldn’t roll a joint to save their lives, to young parents needing a break between the monotony of daycare and diapers, as well as trade workers coming off a long day at the job, or even seniors looking for a mild pain relaxer.

“Everyone’s got a vice, everyone is looking for a piece of that relaxation. Not all stoners look like typical stoners,” Josh quietly reminded you as he trained you during your first week on the job.

You took his comment in stride and tried your best not to judge the customers when they came in looking for their vice. Everyone had their reasons, undoubtedly, and those reasons were absolutely none of your business, Stef had so compassionately reminded you, despite your bristling at her blunt words.

Today would turn out to be no different, you realized, as you went back out to the front of the store, and began locking up the display cabinets, putting the weed samples back in their glass cases. You hear the bell toll of the front door opening and you call out to Stef in the back, but it doesn’t reach her ears over the sound of her chattering with Josh.

You glance at the clock. 4:32 pm, less than half an hour to go. Steeling yourself, you walk over to the entrance, where the double doors are that let customers into the store. An added measure for security, despite the so-called front ‘checkpoint desk’ where customers had to show their I.D. before walking into the main store that contained actual products.

“Thanks for coming into One Plant, can I see some I.D.?” You parrot the painstakingly rehearsed greeting as you round the corner to the desk at the front. You look up to see an older guy standing there awkwardly, between the exit door, and the front desk, almost like he’s not sure he wants to really be in the store.

He looks around suspiciously at his surroundings, his brow furrowed as he takes you in.

“Uhm, can I see your I.D. sir?” You ask him again, mirroring his confused expression as you appraise his demeanor. You tap your knuckles on the laminated sign on the desk that states I.D. MUST BE SHOWN, ONLY 18+ PERMITTED ENTRY to emphasize your point.

The man blinks once or twice, then shakes himself out of whatever daze he was in, as he fumbles into his back pocket for his wallet, fishing out his license for you.

“Yeah sorry, here you go.”

You don’t pay much attention to the picture on the license, you never usually do, as bad as it is to say. As far as you were concerned, if the mental math added up in your head, and they were 18, you let them in. This time you take a bit more time to analyze this man’s ID card. You poorly attempt to hide the raise in your eyebrows as your gaze scans his year of birth. There’s no way this guy is over 40. He can’t be. You look from the stiff plastic card in your hand, back up to the man towering over you at the desk, taking in his slightly greying hair and his sparse beard. The crows feet etched on his face, and his seemingly permanent scowl gave away his years without fault.

You look down at the card again. Joel Miller. Huh. Just as you look back up at him, he raises his eyebrows at you expectantly. Realizing you have been holding onto his card for far too long than is appropriate you hand it back to him quickly.

“Sorry, can’t be too careful,” you say playfully, but that doesn’t seem to dissuade his nerves as he puts the card back into his wallet, back into his pocket. Hands shoved into his coat pockets as he stood frozen to the spot.

“Come on in,” you gesture for him to come in as you press the button to open the interconnected door that leads to the shop.

He follows you in, continuing to look around the store anxiously, stiff as a board.

You make a beeline for the register counter, secretly praying that this guy knows what he wants to order so that you can all clock out in time. Usually, you didn’t usually mind staying behind late most days but you had been feeling burnt out between school and the hours at the dispensary lately, and you were all too looking forward to going home, smoking a fat joint and unwinding with some drag race. It didn’t look like that would be happening any time soon though, much to your dismay, as you notice the deer in headlights expression on this poor guy. His gaze darted from the display cases to the glassware, despite his broad stature he was clearly overwhelmed by everything in front of him.

You clear your throat in an attempt to pull him out of his current state of fight or flight.

“First time here?”

His gaze snaps back to you, and for a second you genuinely can’t remember if you asked him the question, or if he asked you something, with the way his huge brown eyes widen and soften slightly before he furrows his brows.

“Is it that obvious?” The deep warmth of his baritone voice betrays the gruffness in his response and you chuckle. The corner of his lips curl into a lopsided, sheepish smile.

Bless this first timer and his apprehension. You take pity on his naivete.

“Not to worry at all. Is there anything in particular you’re looking for?” You match his small smile in return.

“Uhm,” he furrows his brows again and starts to peer around the store anxiously again, as if he was being watched. “Something for pain management?” He quirks one eyebrow at you, in question, almost as if he’s unsure if that’s the right answer. He fidgets a bit, shifting his weight and then sighing while pulling a piece of paper out of his pocket.

He squints at the paper briefly. “At least, that’s what my doctor has written here. I think. Can’t be sure with this damn chicken scratch.” He scowls slightly, clearly irritated he is in this predicament.

Again. Bless this first timer, old man. Well, not really THAT old, but still.

“I can help you with that, as for the legibility of doctor handwriting, I’m afraid that’s a lost cause,” you quip. Much to your surprise, he huffs out a laugh in response.

“Yeah no shit. It’s a good thing I clocked what the doctor said before relying on the written prescription.”

“Well, you’re in luck because we have lots of options to choose from in terms of pain management. We have anything from herb, to edibles, to pre rolls, to drinks. Anything really, you name it.”

You chirp off the options, in your customer service voice. Although it doesn’t really feel like you’re trying to sell him something at this point, moreso that you’re educating him on what’s available.

It’s a good thing too, with the way his soulful brown eyes continue to get wider, and the crease between his brows deepen with each option you mention to him.

“Uhm,” he clears his throat, “how about something to smoke?”

“For sure! If you’re looking for something for pain management, that’ll likely be higher on the CBD end, with less THC, more relaxation based.”

“That sounds good,” he gives you another small smile. You start to search for CBD dominant strains in the register database as he shifts a bit closer to the counter, resting his hand with the prescription slip in it, on the countertop.

He has nice hands. Big hands. With nice long, thick fingers. Like really fucking thick. And his thumbs are perfectly curved. You also notice a faint tattoo that's fading, hovering just above the webbing between his index finger and thumb, of… a bullseye? Interesting.

“Alright so we have a selection of pre rolled joints as well as loose herb for CBD, depending on what your preference is. Some people like to roll themselves, plus it’s a bit cheaper to buy it loose and roll it yourself, compared to buying pre-rolled, but it’s up to you.”

Still, he looks at you with a lost expression, but ultimately says says “Let’s go with the pre rolled ones.”

“Sounds good. Any flavour preferences? Or dislikes?”

He furrows his brows again and frowns slightly. God help this man. That should not be as endearing and cute as it is.

“Flavours?” He looks downright bewildered, as if you asked him when he’s going to jetspace off to Mars, that or to sacrifice his first born child. It could very well be both at this point. This poor old man. It must be his first time buying weed in general, not just coming into the dispensary.

Understanding his predicament, you backpedal a bit. At this point you might as well be getting commission on top of the ludacris minimum wage you receive, seeing as how eager you are to assist this man. Normally you couldn’t be bothered to be so thorough and patient with customers when it was nearing closing time but this guy is so lost, you take pity on him. It had nothing to do with how attractive he is.

“Yeah! Weed products come in all different kinds of flavours, depending on the strain. It’s more noticeable with edibles and drinks, any products you consume orally, but loose leaf herb, or the actual weed buds, have different flavours too. If you like fruity stuff there is Mango haze, or strawberry sativa, or if you like a more sour savoury palette, there is sour diesel or lemon haze. Or there are kinds that don’t have a distinct flavour profile or smell, they smell and taste pretty generic when you consume or smoke them.”

“Uh, I think those might be my best bet,” he chuckles hollowly.

“Alright, sounds good.” Going off his limited knowledge and inexperience, you pick a pack for him that is a hybrid strain, light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Usually it’s pretty good for beginners who aren’t looking to get stupid high and not too expensive.

You turn to the back wall window behind the countertop, and knock on the glass, catching the attention of Stef and Josh.

“Hey, can one of you guys grab me the 5 pack of Moonberry pre-rolls for this walk in order?”

Stef conveniently taps her index finger on her nose and looks presumptuously at Josh, making no effort to get up from her seat, who rolls his eyes and goes over to the inventory shelf. No sooner does he walk back over to hand you the pack, does Stef tear her glance away from her phone, and peek up at the register counter, clocking the man. Her jaw drops and she instantly wiggles her eyebrows at you. Before she can put her open mouth to use and make a smart ass comment, you grab the pack of joints from Josh and pivot back towards the register. As you turn back around, you just barely catch the man’s gaze snapping back up to yours, as if he was looking somewhere further south down your body.

No. You’re just imagining that. Your brain running on fumes as the last remnant of your shift dwindles down.

“Okay, this is a 5 pack of pre rolls. It’s called Moon Berry, it’s a hybrid, but it’s very light on the THC and heavy on the CBD. Good for relaxation and it helps with pain. Try ‘em out and see how you like them.” You put the pack in a small bag and ring up the cost for him.

After he hands you the cash and takes the small bag into his massive hand, he hovers a bit. Shuffling awkwardly as he waits for something else.

“Uh, is there anything else you needed today?” you ask him after a beat. His hand clutching the bag twitches by his side, and his lips part slightly.

Okay this man is cute. More than cute. He’s ridiculously attractive in an aloof sort of way. His disheveled curls, prominent nose and chocolate brown eyes have you short circuiting, as if you were the one purchasing something from him. Still, you reassure yourself it’s the delusion of it being the final minutes of your workday, not the handsome stranger. Not at all.

Say something. Say anything. Jesus.

At this point you’re not really sure if you’re telling that to yourself or silently pleading to him.

“Need a lighter?” you blurt out in an attempt to break the silence.

“Uhm. I-.” He puts his hands in his pockets as if he was going to retrieve a lighter. Your malfunctioning brain persists though.

“Here, take it,” you grab one of the lighters with the generic dispensary logo on it, off the

display on the counter and hand it to him. “It’s on the house,” you state as you see him start to shake his head, “we don’t make money on these anyway, so they always end up as overstock.”

His large palm nearly engulfs your hand as you drop the lighter into his hand. He looks up at you and gives you a boyish smile again.

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

“No problem, enjoy the pre rolls. If you need anything else, feel free to give us a visit again,” your customer service voice chimes in again as you flash him a warm smile.

Trepidation sweeps across his face for a brief second before he nods and ducks his head, and as he walks out of the store. You check your phone, 4:56, thank God.

You head back into the storage room to grab your things and clock out, only to be met by your co-workers staring at you. Both with shit eating smirks on their faces.

“It’s on the house?” Josh repeats your earlier sentiment to you with a raised eyebrow.

Rolling your eyes instantly, you sigh. “Josh, you and I both know those stupid lighters rarely ever sell out. Or sell, period. It’s not like the occasional few put a dent in the weekly revenue. Plus, there’s lots of other crap in here we sell with the store branding on it.”

He continues to look at you expectantly, his smirk growing bigger.

“You gonna make me watch one of those ridiculous loss prevention videos from HR? Or can we let this go? C’mon it was the last customer of the day and we’re closed now.” You plead with him hoping he will drop it.

“If he wanted to cause you actual pain and suffering he would make you watch those HR videos again,” Stef quips cheekily. “We both wanna know why you wouldn’t just ask for that guy's number, it would have been a lot easier than committing theft as an employee.”

Your mouth gapes open as you look at her indignantly, then to Josh. Screw your best friend for knowing you all too fucking well. You couldn’t hide your poker face from her even if it was surgically constructed.

“Why would I-” you begin your protest but Stef steam rolls over your words in her true form.

“Oh, come ON, babe. I may only have eyes for women but I have to admit, he was fucking HOT and you know it. Those broad shoulders and puppy dog eyes? Probably one of the few attractive middle aged men I’ve seen come through here.”

Josh wrinkles his face in disgust. “Seriously? The dude is probably pushing fifty. He looks like he’s never gotten high in his life seeing as how he was gawking at everything in the store. You included.”

Stef hums in agreement. “Fifty or not, he’s the hottest virgin stoner I’ve ever seen in my life. And I didn’t see a ring on his finger sooo…”

“Okay, that’s it,” you cut her off before she can blurt out any more incriminating things “Let’s implement a new rule, no BETTING on the customers, and no gossiping about how attractive they are.” You huff and grab your things, before dragging your friend towards the store exit. Josh follows in tow, locking up the entrance behind you all.

“All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy,” Josh mutters as he fixes you with a knowing look.

“I’m just saying,” Stef keeps going as you all walk towards the parking lot, “where else and when else are you going to meet someone with all the shit you have going on right now? Don’t you wanna get out there eventually?”

She gives you a playful shove with a bit too much force behind it. “Don’t you at least wanna get laid again? Poor gal probably has cobwebs down there,” She throws out the crass remark nonchalantly as you sputter with your jaw dropped open. Luckily, she just narrowly avoids the slap you aim at her arm.

“Alright, and on THAT note, goodnight to you both. Get home safe.” Josh shakes his head as he gets into his car.

You turn and face Stef, letting out the deepest breath you’ve probably taken all day.

She’s not wrong. It’s been well near a year since you split up with your ex. Ever since you started school and got the part time job at One Plant, you really haven’t had time for anything else. Despite being best friends and living close by, you rarely saw Stef outside of your scheduled shifts together. Relegating yourself to the hermit life, you kept busy with studying, writing papers, going to class and showing up for your shifts at the dispensary.

Isn’t that what you’re supposed to do after becoming single? Better yourself? Have new adventures? Or some shit like that.

Sure, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t miss being with someone. Miss the companionship. But dating in this day and age was fucking exhausting. Even though things between you and your ex ended amicably, you were still very much in your ‘men are trash era’ and the thought of going on dates and getting to know someone again nauseated you.

Annoyingly, Stef wasn’t wrong about the getting laid part. Nearly a year post breakup for a relationship that consumed 6 years of your life didn’t seem that long in the grand scheme of things. But being touch starved for nearly a year? That fucking sucked. And you wouldn’t deny missing the intimacy of cuddles, forehead kisses, and feeling close to someone. That and getting railed as if your life depended on it. Toys were nice and all but fuck you missed the feeling of having someone manhandle you, the feeling of someone giving you pleasure, winding you up. You just haven’t put your focus on that very stale and dry aspect of your life.

Stef gently grabs you by the shoulders, squeezing them. “Look, you know I love you hun, I just want you to be happy. That’s all. You gotta give it a chance again.”

Her words pull you out of your dissociation and you blink hazily a few times. You shake your head briefly and pull her in for a hug. Stef may be too outspoken for her own good but she knew you inside and out. Ater becoming best friends in grade 7, you wouldn’t expect anything less from her. But you couldn’t lie that a part of you hated when she was right.

“I know you do, and I love you for it. Even though you’re a pain in my ass. Now get home safe.”

She squeezes you at that and tells you to do the same, before you both go your separate ways.

Finally home, you trudged into your empty apartment, the weight of day’s work finally easing off your shoulders, as you kicked off your shoes and dumped your keys on the coffee table in the living room. As was your routine, you plopped down on the couch, reaching for your grinder and papers on the table, as you started to roll your joint, contemplating on what to have for dinner.

Still, the image of deep brown eyes, and that warm southern drawl ricocheted through your mind as you densely packed the grinded herb into the joint, folding the paper in on itself and twisting off the end. He was just a customer. You saw hundreds of them a day, he was nothing new. As you lit up and inhaled deeply, you felt the warm, molasses-like haze seep through your bones, clouding over your thoughts, as you melted into the couch. He was just a customer. A handsome stranger.

Despite the excuses you gave yourself, you couldn’t help but feel that wouldn’t be the last time you saw that man, or the virgin stoner, as Stef had so bluntly called him. At least you hoped it wouldn’t be the last.

TAGLIST:

@xkyxkyxxlylcylulucuflfluclu, @morallyinept, @atinylittlepain, @amanitacowboy, @not-a-unique-snowflake-blog, @pr0ximamidnight, @wannab-urs, @beskarandblasters, @jksprincess10

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x you #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #tlou fanfiction #joel miller #petition to GET THAT OLD MAN HIGH

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pinkynana · 1 year

Text

though you were in a no dating basis, you did think about the kind of person you'd date and jeno was exactly it. he was such a gentleman to you, it didn't feel real. so you send him a little something to make him break his gentleman character.

warnings : dry humping in public, pussy eating, fingering, squirting, face slapping, slut shaming, reader still being an ass to her friends

taglist : @matchahyuck @jaemjunie @babyjenono @woniebuns @jenoleeaesthetic @jaeymark @ishireads @thegracerammy @jyowui @jiminsfiilter

truth or dare with your roommate is torture. scratch that. any games with a good girl like your roommate are torture. the dare would be something you'd do on a daily basis and the truth would be some middle school question like who's your crush.

you picked truth anyway.

"what's your ideal type?" she asked. you rolled your eyes. "i dunno. a nice guy with a nice face?"

"isn't that everyone's ideal type?" you wanted to choke her at that point. why can't she look through you? you don't want to play this game with her. but the elevators broke down and there's no way you're using the stairs to get out of the building when you live on the 16th floor.

" i like sharp noses, i guess. someone who looks good even with glasses on? and i like muscles." you hope your answer would satisfy her this time. but she went quiet and made her thinking face. "what?" you asked.

"sounds like jeno."

"who's jeno?" is he one of her nerd friends?

"i have fencing club with him. he's this muscular guy, arms really big. his glasses aren't prescribed though. he only wears them because he said he looks good with them. he's a really nice guy. but of course he has that typical boy things like games and stuff." sounds like someone you'd try to flirt with. why have you never heard of this jeno?

"take me to your fencing club next time."

and she actually did.

you finally got to see this jeno that your roommate was talking about. you still haven't seen his face as he was already practicing when you got there. but his body already made you interested.

you watched him practice with some irrelevant dude you didn't care about. you never really took any interest in this sport but seeing how amazing jeno was at fencing you mentally cursed your roommate for not introducing him to you sooner.

his match ended so he took off the fencing mask, shook his head a little to get some sweat out of his hair. maybe fencing is your new favorite sport.

he walked over to you (your roommate, actually. he doesn't know you.) and smiled. "hey, minjoo. doing great?" he took a bottle of water and sat down next to your roommate. did he not see you? why isn't he asking about you?

minjoo nodded at his question. "this is my roommate, ___, by the way. she wanted to see us practice today." she touched your shoulder as she introduced you.

"anyway, you guys be friends. my session is starting. i'll be right back." she put on her mask and left you two so you scooted closer to him.

"hi." you said. "hi, ___. i sometimes see you around." he replied without looking at you. his hand was busy grabbing his bag as he took out a pair of glasses. finally then, he looked at you.

"i'm jeno."

"i know."

"oh, did minjoo talk about me?"

"yeah." enough about minjoo. you wanted to make sure that he would talk to you and talk about you only.

"good things, i hope. don't wanna appear silly to a pretty girl like you."

pretty. you're pretty. to jeno, you're pretty. it's not the first time you heard this compliment and it's not even the best compliment, so why were you excited to hear that from him?

"jeno, can i.." you played with the ribbon in your hair a little, licked your lips and shifted your butt on the bench. "can i call you? sometimes?"

he made eye contact with you through his glasses. "that would be an honor." he fetched out his phone and passed it to you. you don't remember the last time you typed in your number in someone's phone as all people should in today's technology. you've always at least wrote it in a piece of paper and given it a little lipstick print. or straight out write it on the man's arm like you did with donghyuck.

"call yourself so you have my number." he told you so you did and immediately his number appeared on your screen. "got it."

the two of you were mostly silent, waiting for minjoo to get done with her session. and even when she did, she also didn't say anything until she looked at her phone, then to you.

"hey, i forgot i had a book club meeting after practice. you're gonna have to go home on your own." she told you with guilt written all over her face.

"i'll leave now then. enjoy your meeting." you didn't believe that book clubs still existed. but then again, it's minjoo. your boring roommate. the meeting probably consists of people as boring as her or more boring than her.

"i can send you home. my session's done for the day." jeno stood up just when you were about to. minjoo did an excited "wingman" face behind his back to you.

"that's so sweet of you."

when he offered that, you thought he meant you'd be his passenger princess but really he meant standing on the bus together and walking you to your apartment. you wanted to complain in your head but the way he pinned you on the bus when it was full, made your head empty.

his body wasn't even touching yours. he made sure nothing was. while everyone else around him bumped into his body here and there. he made sure you were safe in that little space he created just for you.

you never knew that the bus stop was right literally in front of your apartment, having never taking the bus. is this the route that minjoo always takes? interesting.

"text me when you get in. i'll stay here until you do." you blinked at him, thinking if that was necessary. most guys just drop you here, say goodbye and leave. some even ask to get in with you but so far, you've never brought a man home since you didn't want minjoo to know how much of a whore you are.

so, texting a man to tell him you've entered your home was odd to you. "is that really necessary?" you let the question in your head out.

"isn't that the bare minimum? i want you to be safe." his question made you wonder if you've always been fooling around with jerks.

after you texted him when you got home, he left you on read. three days ago. you huffed in frustration, looking at your phone with no notifications from that certain someone who's a nice guy with a nice face.

should you text him first? would that be out of character? you wanted him to want you. not the other way around.

fuck it, just text the guy.

oh, hey. i was thinking about you.

he replied after you sent a simple hi. you whispered a silent "yes!" in victory.

really? what thoughts?

if you'd like it if i invite you to see my fencing match next week

okay, that's boring as hell. you thought he'd read it in a naughty way not in a let me take you out on a date way. so you decide to make it naughty on your own.

do you wanna know what i'm doing?

sure, tell me

you took off your hoodie, leaving you in your see through bralette that wasn't really covering up anything. you took a quick picture without your face in it, zoomed in on your breast and sent it to jeno.

i was thinking about you too.

you texted. you see the three dots on your screen a little longer than the other time he gave you a response.

that's nice of you.

what the fuck. you threw your phone beside you on your bed.

"you fucked with jaemin?!" minjoo stormed into your shared flat where you were just sitting in front of your laptop, completing an assignment. the door hit the wall behind it as she slammed it open.

you rolled your eyes, annoyed by the fact that she ruined the wall and not because of her obvious question. you set your laptop aside and turned to her.

"why?" you didn't answer her.

"why?!" she huffed. you thought that she was being dramatic. just like any other girl who had the same reaction to this particular topic.

"are you crazy? do you hate chaeryeong? she's been nothing but nice to you!" she came closer to you just to push your shoulder that didn't even move you much. you frowned at her, still not understanding why everyone is making you the villain for flirting with your friend's ex. and what does it have to do with the fact that your friend has always been nice to you?

"you're a bad friend, ____. i can't believe i used to defend you."

"defend me from what?" the fact that she defended you without you asking to made you feel offended for some reason.

"you think i don't know? just because you don't bring boys here doesn't mean i wouldn't know that you've fucked around with every boy that interacts with you. i'm not that innocent."

you were speechless. you always thought not talking much with minjoo would mean that she wouldn't know a thing about you. perhaps facts can still go around, it just didn't come out of your own mouth. but you definitely weren't thankful that minjoo defended you.

"and i know you're trying to get into jeno's pants now. i'll tell him everything and warn him to stay away from you."

"wait, no-" you were shocked yourself with how fast you grabbed her hand. she scoffed.

"no. don't tell him, please. please don't. i'm begging." you held her hand with both of yours, looking up at her who was standing.

"what has gotten into you? all this for some guy you think is your ideal type?" she looked at you with disgust.

you thought you wouldn't care about whatever happened between minjoo and you the other day but you couldn't help being bothered. the whole school was talking about how much of a cheap whore you are.

sitting at the quiet zone of the library, you thought you wouldn't see anyone you knew. you've never fucked a nerd.

so you wondered if jeno was a nerd because you see him right there. well, he does look like a hot nerd with those glasses on. he stopped his motion once he saw you seeing him. he then approached you with a warm smile.

the smile faded when you didn't smile at him too.

"hey, are you okay?" jeno looked at you in your eyes, taking the seat next to you which made your shoulders touch. you can almost feel all of his warmth just from that touch. he then brushed away strands of your hair to see your face better.

"talk to me, please?" his gentle voice made you calm down a little.

"please?" he repeated. but you were still quiet. your eyes wandered down to his lips, wondering if he'd kiss you if you asked. or if he'd kiss you back if you kissed him first.

when he moved away from your face, you realized you already were trying to kiss him. and he avoided it.

a man just avoided your kiss.

something inside you just clicked once you processed the whole situation. it made you gasp with your eyes big and round.

you ran away.

crying is pathetic. so you don't do it. but crying felt like the only thing you could do right now.

but still, it's pathetic. you won't do it.

you want to though.

should you?

someone snapped their fingers in front of you, waking you up to your senses. you looked up at the person, seeing the red head who said she didn't want to be your friend anymore.

"i didn't do it." chaeryeong said.

"do what?"

"spread the rumor. or told your roommate about you fucking my ex." you rolled your eyes and huffed, your shoulders dropping with you. "i don't care, chaeryeong. it's not a rumor."

you didn't invite her to lie down next to you at that.. park? in front of your faculty. but she took her own spot next to you anyway.

"it's a bitchy move to fuck with my ex."

this again?

"but i still don't like to hear people slut shame my friend."

"but i am a slut though."

"yeah, but it sucks to hear other people say that instead of yourself." you sat up from your position. you didn't understand what was her motive for saying all this to you. you didn't like it. you feel more offended with this so called nice gesture than the slut shaming that's going around.

"this feels petty." you tell her with a frown. "what?" she sat up as well.

"you don't have to tell me all this. my feelings are my own. the rumors are true. i. am. a. slut. i don't feel bad because it's true. no matter who's mouth said it, who's fingers typed it, it's true. i don't care."

fuck chaeryeong for making you the villain. again.

but then again, thanks chaeryeong. for making you realize that you shouldn't be crying.

pathetic.

though it was hard to admit defeat, you decided you wouldn't try and get with jeno. as embarrassing as it is, you had to lay low with how bad your reputation is. you just hoped it would go away as soon as any other hot gossip did in this university.

you took this situation as a sign from the universe to focus on your grades.

but for some reason, the universe isn't on your side this time round. jeno's here sitting in front of you with that stupidly cute smile on his face.

"what are you doing?" you kicked his leg under the table.

"studying with you." his answer made you roll your eyes as you changed the leg you crossed. "do you want something more?" he tilted his head like a puppy. but his question was so suggestive, you'd actually ask for more. however, considering the last time you initiated something naughty from that man, he said you were nice.

"i just want to study, jeno."

"you don't want me to finger you right here?"

you thought you heard wrong. you looked around you to see no one else but you and him. "you're wearing shorts today, though. thats gonna be a hassle. ran out of skirts?" he smirked. all the good boy, the gentleman side of him were thrown out the window. and so did your plans on not fucking with him. it's surprising but it's hot. so you pulled the chair next to you and lightly tapped on the seat, inviting him over. he chuckled as he took your invitation. he took off his glasses and set it aside before he sat down.

"there's no one here." you whispered as he got closer to your face. "then take off your shorts, pretty." he whispered in a similar volume, his lips right next to your ear.

your fingers were about to grip your waistband but you stopped when something else went inside your head. "wait, haven't you heard about the rumors?" you looked at him, face moving away from his.

"i've known about them before you even talked to me. and i don't care about them. it just means you're good at sex, doesn't it?" is that really it? he knew about you before you knew him at all? and he still wants you? he was nice to you even when you just met. it's the bare minimum, he said.

"if you don't want to, i can leave you alone." it quite ironic how he said that but he leaned his head on your shoulder, then giving you a kiss on your neck. but he felt so soft and so right at the moment. you've been stressed with everything that's going through in your head and this fine man is just here letting you out of your stress.

"but why'd you not let me kiss you the other day? i thought you didn't like me or find me attractive at all." you remembered. "i wanted to ask you if you're sure you want to kiss me. you just ran away." he pouted his lips.

so you kissed his pouty lips. and his hand flew to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. you feel his fingers on his other hand snaking around the waist of your shorts. but you really didn't feel like taking any of your clothes off. so you held his hand away from yours and climbed over to sit on his growing bulge. you could tell that he's not fully hard yet.

"jeno.." you whined his name. "yes, darling? need anything?" he nuzzled his face on your neck, giving it lazy kisses. "can we just stay like this?" you pulled away from him to show your cute round eyes. your fingers tickled his shoulders. "you just want to make out here?" he questioned.

"no, i mean-" you made your body do the talking by moving your hips on his lap, focusing on his throbbing center. "fuck." he groaned, looking at you then smiled. "beautiful." he whispered. his praise motivated you to move again on him. heavy breathing started coming out of the both of you. you leaned your forehead on his as you bit your lip trying to conceal the moans that's trying to get out.

"can i kiss you again?" you never knew you'd like fucking around with a good guy like jeno. but the way he always makes sure you're sure made you dizzy. you nod your head eagerly and the next thing you knew, his lips were on yours, hungrily tasting your mouth as you licked his lips. the kiss felt rougher than the one before. perhaps it's the way your pussy was so close to his dick with the barrier of both of your clothes. you so badly wanted to take everything off of you and take him there.

when you hear someone at the nearest bookshelf, you stopped the kiss. he giggled at the action, bumping your noses together which made you giggle with him. from the person's perspective, you two were just a couple, showing pda. as soon as they left, you continued your movements but this time he thrusted up into you as well. you whined a little too loud that jeno lifted his finger up to your lips. "shh, be my good girl, okay? stay quiet." you usually mentally rolled your eyes when someone tells you to be a good girl but when jeno said it, you actually wanted to be his good girl. so you sucked his finger to keep yourself quiet, keeping on humping him.

"such a good girl." you hummed on his finger with his praise. "yeah? you like it when i call you that? i could feel how wet you are, darling? you like me that much?" his smile drove you crazy at the moment. how do you even answer that question? do you actually like him?

"gonna cum, jeno." you took his finger out of your mouth, a string of saliva connecting it. "keep humping me. i know you can just cum from that. cum for me, darling." you whined then moved yourself on his lap, chasing your high without even taking any of your clothing off. you knew you couldn't keep yourself quiet so you kissed him again, moving your hips faster on him. even with your lips on each other, you could still hear how loud your whines were when you finally reached your climax.

"you did good, darling. made a mess on me. so good." he kissed the top of your head, caressing your cheek to calm you down from your high. you then wrapped your arms around him to pull him in a hug, feeling his warmth spread to your body. you could still feel his hardness underneath you and you wondered why he's not asking you to take care of him too. you reached your hand down to his bulge which earned you a groan from him.

"no, baby. i don't want to cum in my pants." he said quietly to your ear. was he telling you to suck him off? or did he want to cum inside you? what was he implying?

but he stayed still, holding you while you were holding him.

being close to jeno was something you never expected. you broke your rule of not being friends with the guys you were with for jeno. but were you really friends? do friends make out like you two do? do friends cuddle as they sleep on the same bed? do friends help each other with their sexual needs? maybe. at least you've never had actual sex with him.

jeno was still asleep when you woke up from your evening nap after you sucked him off while he ate you out. waking up to his chest was something you never knew you'd like that much. as you nuzzled your face on his bare chest, he was awakened from his sleep with a smile as he pulled you closer. "got a good sleep, darling?" you nod your head. "you wanna sleep more?" he started caressing your hair and you loved the way he always treated you like you were something fragile. you were about to answer him when his phone suddenly rang. his phone was placed on the bedside behind you so you turned around to get it for him. you then saw a picture frame of him as a boy with another kid. you thought he looked familiar.

before you passed the phone, you saw the contact being "game partner". you gave the phone to him but he didn't even bother answering it. he put his phone back behind you.

"who was that?" you asked.

"no one important."

"you play games?"

"just when you're not around."

"i've been around a lot, though?"

"yeah, so i don't play a lot these days." his answer made you smile. he really sacrificed his game time for you. which meant he liked spending time with you more than he did with his games.

"oh, i wanted to ask who's that boy in your picture frame." you moved to look behind you but jeno then tilted your face with just two of his fingers so you'd look at him. he kissed your nose really quick. "just focus on me, darling."

"it's nothing, jeno. i just think i know him." you pout your lips. he then imitated you but his pout was more exaggerated. "the guys you talk to mean the guys you've played around with before me." he whined the last word. he pulled you closer into his arms. "that's my childhood friend. i'd be really jealous if he got to kiss you before me."

"awwh, jeno.." you pushed him as you stood up and leaned your back on his head board. he followed after. your hands went down, holding and playing with his fingers. "i.. i don't think i'm actually just playing around with you." you shook your head. he blinked then smiled. "really?" you saw how happy he looked at that time.

"i mean, i think… i.. well, i actually would leave the guys after the first sexual encounter. but we've done so many things and i'm still here. when i think about leaving you i get the shivers. like, now that i know what it feels like to have you, i don't wanna know how it would feel like without you." this was probably the first time you've been vulnerable in front of someone, let alone a guy. you finally meet his eyes to see what kind of reaction he'd give you. all he did was smile. as always.

he kissed your forehead. then your nose. and your cheek. "i feel the same way." he kissed your lips and let it go. "i don't wanna know what it feels like without you." he kissed your lips again. "can i eat you out, darling?" and again.

you nodded your head as he moved under his blanket, stopping once he's eye level with your core. he kissed it through your panties before ripping it out of you. "only say my name, okay? no begging, no faster, no harder, don't even tell me that it feels good. i only wanna hear you say my name." that was a hard rule to follow but you wanted to satisfy him so you committed to it.

with just a single, long lick from his tongue, you've already pulled his hair under the blanket. "jeno.." you moaned. "louder, darling." he brought his fingers to your hole, entering two of them while he focused his tongue on your clit.

"jeno! jeno! jeno! hnggg.." you wanted to beg for his fingers to go faster. you knew he was going slow on purpose since he didn't want you to ask for anything. this time, you weren't in control. he kept his pace on your hole but his speed on your clit was the opposite. he stimulated your little pussy like it was his purpose of life.

"jeno.." you feel tears coming out of your eyes. you wondered if you liked this guy that much that you could cry just from him eating you out. maybe he's just that good. nothing to do with your feelings for him. your moans became louder when he sped up his thrusts of his fingers. you hope that jeno would understand that you're getting close at this point. the squelching noises from your wet pussy should be enough clue for him.

"let go, darling. wanna eat your cum." he pulls out his fingers and only used his tongue to pleasure you this time. "you taste so good, darling. love your pussy." he started sucking on it that made you scream his name and it was enough to make you squirt all over his face. he was still licking and sucking, cleaning up all your cum. once he's done with that, he climbed back up to give you a kiss that could make you taste yourself.

"you liked that, darling?" he asked. "so much. like it so much." you answered.

"now say hi to my friends."

"huh?" you frowned.

jeno took his phone, revealing a phone call with "game partner" that's been going on for 17 minutes. "come in, guys." he said to his phone and ended the phone call. his bedroom door then opened and three men came inside.

donghyuck, jaemin, renjun.

you looked at jeno but your face immediately moved again when he slapped your cheek. with eyes still watery from your orgasm just now, you looked the most pathetic you've ever been.

"stupid fucking slut." jeno squeezed your face. "i told you to greet my friends. be polite." as you blinked, more tears fell down. you were still quiet. all you could hear is jaemin and donghyuck laughing at the side of your bed. renjun came close to you and tilted his head. not an ounce of amusement was written on his face.

"who's the pathetic one now, huh?" you still didn't have anything to say.

jaemin then jumped on the bed to sit next to you, having his arm behind your shoulder. "what's the matter, bunny? didn't you like getting attention? all of us can pay attention to you now. isn't that fun, huh?"

"dreams do come true, don't they?" you see hyuck taking off his shirt, throwing it to the floor.

never have you ever wished you weren't the center of attention in your life. you wanted to hide at that moment, feeling embarrassed that you thought you finally found someone who you'd like and perhaps love. how foolish of you. men really are the same.

"you're mine now, alright? don't wanna know how it would feel to be without you, remember?" jeno stroked your hair gently. but nothing about it was gentle.

you lost. you hate this game.

#00 line attention series #nct dream smut #nct smut #jeno smut #lee jeno smut

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daddysgoty0u · 5 months

Text

Christy had been through a lot. She was only 21, but she felt she had lived an entire life. She was 5'2, 115 pounds, blonde curly hair, with gorgeous thighs, for she was a cheerleader at St. Martin ’s University in Arkansas . She was the classic Southern Belle, complete with the accent. However, she hadn’t been using it over the past few days, because she had been depressed. As she lay up in her dorm room, Christy lamented over the coming midterms.

“I can’t believe midterms are already here. I am so unprepared.” She looked at the clock and read that it was 3 pm . She then contemplated studying for her Italian midterm, which happened to be the next day, but she fell asleep instead.

When Christy awoke, she yawned, stretched, rubbed her eyes and picked up her Italian textbook. Looking at the clock, she realized that it was 9 pm . She had slept for over four hours! “Oh my gosh”, she thought.

“I have got to study from now until the exam just to get through everything.” Whimpering, she crammed for the next 10 hours, taking small bathroom and snack breaks, only to walk into the exam room totally exhausted. She finished the exam with plenty of time left, which worried her, but, at that point, she didn’t care. The professor told the class that their grades would be posted via the internet in 3 hours, so check back. Trembling, Christy left the classroom to go find her some coffee, for she had three hours to wait.

Three hours later, Christy was back in her dorm room, logging onto her computer to check her grade. She had showered in the meantime, and had changed clothes from the plaid pajama pants and tank top into some nice pants and a blouse. As she logged onto her Italian course site, her heart sank into her stomach.

“A fucking 62??!!” she cried out.

“No way!” She slammed her chair against the table and threw herself onto her bed, exhausted and crying.

Christy assumed she cried herself to sleep, because she woke up from a doze with a start. Her clock read 12 pm . She assumed she had dozed off, but it wasn’t restful. Over the next few nights, Christy lost sleep and, even when she fell asleep from pure exhaustion, she didn’t rest. She woke up continuously tired and never any better off than when she went to sleep. She decided to go see the school doctor and see what he could prescribe her.

As Christy sat in the doctor’s office, she was shivering because she was cold. Finally, the doctor came in. She knew Doctor Mitchell well, for she had to get her birth control from him in addition to some antibiotics she had gotten a few months earlier for a bacterial infection she had come across.

“Hello, Christy, how’s life treating you?” Dr. Mitchell asked.

“Not too well, Mike,” Christy and the doctor were on a first-name basis. He gave her a funny look. She responded, “Ever since last month, I have been having trouble with sleep. I can’t fall asleep. Its like my mind works overtime and won’t let me drown anything out so I can get some rest.”

Immediately the doctor suggested a stress test, which Christy gladly accepted.

As Doctor Mitchell examined Christy’s levels of stress over a number of questions via a machine that examined her heartrate, he came to her with a diagnosis.

“Christy, you need a break.��

“Tell me something I don’t know, Mike”.

“Well, you know I am a psychologist in addition to a general practice doctor, and there’s this new kind of treatment for people who are needing an escape from daily life.”

Christy was nervous, kind of glancing around the room.

“Recreational pharmaceuticals, Mike?” she laughed.

“No, actually its hypnotism. Called YSR; or Youthful Stress Relief.”

Christy looked at him and got down immediately.

“No way, Mike. I am not letting you hypnotize me into anything.”

Mike stopped her.

“But you don’t understand. It’s for your own good. And plenty of research has been done to prove that its safe.”

“I dunno Mike,” Christy groaned.

“I don’t have the time.

“Look,” he said as he took her into his arms.

“Midterms are over. I will come over tomorrow night and explain everything to you then, okay?” Reluctantly, Christy agreed.

The next night came, and Christy answered the door when Mike knocked. In his arms he had books, a tape, and some candles. Looking at him awkwardly, Christy let him in.

“Now, here’s what YSR will do for you. When was the last time you were stress free?”

“Um, when I was probably 7, because with school, comes stress.”

“Good. Okay, you are 21, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I am going to hypnotize you and regress you mentally so that less stress is placed on you mentally each day. You will have the mind of 2-year-old by the end of it. And the best part is, its completely reversible, so you can come back to regular, everyday life whenever you want.”

“Hell, at this point, if it allows me to sleep better, I don’t care what it does,” Christy replied.

“Let’s go”.

“…and when I snap my fingers, you will wake up, completely in the mind of a 7-year-old.” <SNAP!>

“WHOA!” cried out Christy. She covered her mouth at the sound of her voice, and then giggled and got up, grabbing Mike’s hands.

“Let’s go play tag!” she cried out. Mike smiled. ‘exactly as it should be,’ he thought to himself.

“But Christy, its nearly your bed-time.” You need to go to bed, okay. Go get your jammies on so you can go to bed, okay?“

“Otay”, she replied, and disappeared into her bedroom, where, not five seconds later, she returned in an oversized t-shirt with panties on underneath.

“Now, we can sit here and watch tv if you want, but you have to promise to go to sleep.” The two of them sat down on the couch and, in a matter or moments, Christy was out, sleeping soundly.

The next morning, Mike brought Christy out of her hypnotized state, asking her how she slept.

“Mike, I don’t know what you did, but whatever it was, I feel awesome.”

“Well rested?”

“Very.”

“Good, then should we do this once every two weeks?” Mike asked.

“Sure, I am sure I will need it again in a couple of weeks. Want some breakfast? It’s the least I can do for you.” The two ate breakfast together, with Christy cooking eggs for Mike and herself.

Over the next few months, Christy began to call on Mike for more of the YSR. She was fixing to graduate, and time was running out for her to finish her final graduation project. Now, as time had gone on, Mike had not been charging Christy for his services. He accepted breakfast and wrote it off as a favor to a friend. However, he began to develop a crush on his patient, which is strictly forbidden by the Hippocratic Oath, which all doctors take when they are licensed. One night, he tried to move in on his crush, with some simple words.

“Christy, I have to tell you something,” he started.

“What is it Mike?”

“I…er…think I have a crush on you.”

This totally shocked Christy, who merely thought of Mike as her best friend and doctor.

“Well, I hate to break it to you, Mike, but this patient-doctor relationship is as far as we need to get, okay?” Mike was infuriated, but didn’t let it show.

“That’s fine, if that’s how you feel, I just felt the need to tell you, okay? Now onto our YSR for the evening.

<SNAP> Suddenly, Christy was awake. She was aware of everything that went on around her, seeing Mike sitting on her couch with a sly grin made her worried a little bit, but she was okay. As Christy decided to stand up she looked at Mike and spoke to him. She meant to say, ‘You want some breakfast, Mike?’, but it came out as, "Ooosu bekfass daddy?” She immediately slapped her hands to her mouth as she not only couldn’t form the words correctly, but heard the babyishness of her voice. She went to stand up immediately, not likeing the sound of her voice or her incapability to talk, and immediately fell back down with a padded <THUD>. She tried again, this time clumsily putting her hands in front of her and raising her butt in the air t gain balance. All of this was involuntary, as if her mind was forcing her body to do it before she could react. She was able to get upright, only to fall back down with another <THUD>. She noticed that she was sitting a few inched higher than usual and that something was different about her clothing. Christy looked down at her waist and saw…diapers! She was wearing what felt like two thick disposable diapers and a white t-shirt that barely covered her top.

“So, how’s my baby doing this morning?” Mike asked as he got up and moved over to her.

“You talked to me like I was some kind of baby, so I figured you would get a kick out of being one for a while. Maybe you should learn not to be so rude to people…baby. At this, Christy wanted to cry, but she fought the urge and, although her face scrunched up involuntarily, she prevented herself from crying.

"Now, let’s get up, shall we?” Mike said as he bent over to help Christy up. She wobbled as she stood there, simply being held up by Mike’s single hand held in hers. She was dependant on him at this point even to stand.

“Can you stand up while I go get you some food?” He mockingly asked. Christy lazily nodded her head, and Mike left. Almost the instant that he let go and was out of her sight, again, she wanted to cry uncontrollably, but again she fought it. Again this uncontrollable urge to cry came over her, but she fought it, only to fall down on her padded behind again. Mike returned with a bottle of “formula” that he had specially mixed, just for her. As Christy thirstily drank it down, she realized that she had been hungry, and that this formula strangely satisfied her hunger. As soon as Mike saw that she had finished her bottle, he led her by the hand into her guest room, which only had a tv in it. Aside from the tv, the room was bare.

Christy tried her best, once Mike left, to stand up so she could leave and find help, but the cartoons that he had turned on grabbed her attention. She was stuck to the tv, her eyes never leaving the screen. About thirty minutes later, she felt the urge to pee. She struggled with the words, but was finally able to call out, “Daddy!” and Mike came into the room.

“Me need potty!” she blurted out, holding her legs together while squirming. All of a sudden, as soon as she finished saying ‘potty’, she felt her bladder give way and herself flood her diapers. The warm urine flushed its way around the back of her diapers and, since she was sitting down, gushed towards the front. Christy tried her hardest to clench her bladder shut, but her muscles wouldn’t work. They simply wouldn’t work. Mike smiled and left. It didn’t take long, but minutes later, about 45 to be exact, Christy felt her bowels begin to rumble. 'Oh no’ she thought, 'I am not honestly gonna shit on myself, am I?’. She tried to work herself up frantically, feeling the pressure on her bowels increase with each passing second. She worked herself up to her feet by pushing her thickly diapered butt out in the air and pushing down with her hands. As she got to her feet, she began to wobble-step towards the door, all the while, her bowels were screaming to be released. Suddenly, one of her pigeon-toed steps caught the other foot, and she fell backwards again onto her butt. All of a sudden, her bowels gave way, expelling the last two days worth of adult food, and the formula that she had eaten earlier. It felt like five minutes, but for the entirety of that five minutes, Christy filled her diapers to the point of bursting.

21 Days Later - Daily Diapers Stories

#ab dl #ab/dl #diapered #diaper kink #ddxlg

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