#holding onto the one thing you can keep. holding onto the one thing that's familiar.

[notlongtolove]

thanks to the light you shower

it flashed a muted grey, understated but stark as ever in the dim of your living room—blocked. you stared at it, blinking like it might change with every refresh. it never did. you thought, maybe you should’ve seen that coming, too. if she can leave—what’s to stop spencer from walking away too? what’s keeping him here?

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: angst, hurt comfort

content: based on this ask! reader spirals during a friendship breakup and spencer is there to comfort and reassure her tldr spencer reid best bf ever agenda lives on

word count: 3.3k

note: thank you sm for requesting, i hope you like it! also thank you to the ever so lovely @angellic4l and @floraisunwell for helping me proof read this !! <3 was feeling RUSTYYYY i didnt mean to format it like this but i came across a lovely little poem that i loved and hopefully you like it too!

a line: Nostalgia might make a good glue, holding the cracks together when things get shaky, but it’s never to be used as a foundation.

My notebook has remained blank for months thanks to the light you shower around me. I have no use for my pen, which lies languorously without grief. - ha jin

You hadn’t seen it coming.

Well, maybe you did. Lesser texts, lesser calls. Shorter silences that stretched and grew into no texts, no calls, nothing. You should have seen it coming.

What you hadn’t expected was the notification. It flashed a muted grey, understated but stark as ever in the dim of your living room—Blocked. You stared at it, blinking like it might change with every refresh. It never did. You thought, maybe you should’ve seen that coming, too.

You live in a house of cards, its edges delicately balanced with relics and routines you’ve spent years upholding—But houses of cards aren’t built to last. Nostalgia might make a good glue, holding the cracks together when things get shaky, but it’s never to be used as a foundation. 

You hadn’t planned for it to end like this. You’d planned for something else entirely. You’d thought through the steps before the call, rehearsed the words—openings, explanations, apologies, questions. Hi. Hello. I know it’s been a while. Did you forget about today? I waited. It’s okay; I didn’t mind waiting. You’d planned for every possible response, every tangent of the conversation. You’d even practised sharing the updates you were sure she’d care to hear. The call had been brief at best. Few words exchanged, each one clipped and hurtful nonetheless. You don’t make time anymore. You never make time. 

It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Not in the slightest. There was the trip you’d booked together five months ago. She’d said the tickets were refundable on the call, her words were painfully unbothered even then. The email with the refund had been the last thing she sent you. 

You’ve changed. Have you really? You’d wondered for hours afterwards. She said you did. Now, you’re starting to believe her.

You don’t hear Spencer come in. Don’t register the sound of his keys clinking against the counter or the soft thud of his bag hitting the floor. He’s standing there in the doorway for a moment, watching you sink deeper into the couch. Normally, you’d already be burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the familiar warmth of his hands sliding around you—But not today.

Today, you don’t move. So, he does.

It’s clear something is wrong, he just doesn't know what. Quietly and carefully, he sets aside the book you’d abandoned onto the coffee table and then slides onto the couch beside you. His arms find their way around you like they always do—one hand threading through your hair, the other drawing slow circles on your thigh.

You surprise the both of you by speaking first. “She cancelled the trip,” you say dryly, eyes unmoving from the hardwood floor even when he nuzzles his face into your hair. 

“Something came up?” Spencer asks innocently. 

You shake your head. “Just cancelled it,” you reply, flat and matter-of-fact. 

He starts to say something, but you cut him off. “She blocked me.”

That lands heavier than the rest. You feel Spencer still beside you, his hand pausing mid-circle on your thigh. For all the ways Spencer always seems to know what to say and how to say it, you know he doesn’t have an answer for this. 

She’s been in your life longer than he has. Perhaps the one person who knows you as well as Spencer, maybe even better than yourself. He knows this, too. Spencer’s never had someone like that, other than you, other than the team. He’s spent too many years with his nose buried in books, his childhood built on facts and pages instead of people. But he’s learned and seen enough from everyone around him to know what it means to lose someone like that. 

Spencer can hypothesise the reasons. He’s good at that, good at putting pieces together, even the ones you try to keep from him. The distance had started long before the trip was planned—your recent promotion, longer nights at the office instead of out with her. Unanswered texts, missed calls. Spencer’s schedule didn’t help, his half-weeks spent in other cities. The move to his place had made sense at the time, it had seemed like the obvious next step. She’d been happy for you then, encouraged you to be closer to him. But “closer to him” had also meant “further from her.”

It had seemed like a fair trade at the time. Necessary.

Spencer presses his face into your hair, giving your hand a light squeeze. “I’m sorry,” he says finally. It’s so simple, so achingly gentle.

It’s much too nice, much too kind. You can’t bring yourself to start rebuilding your little house of cards. The cards lay untouched, scattered around you in a meek, pathetic, little pile. 

You don’t deserve this. You don’t deserve him. 

The couch creaks softly as you stand, letting Spencer’s hand fall away from yours as you move slowly towards your kitchen. As much as things had changed when Spencer entered your life, you could never put this on him. You know him, love him too much for that. “Don’t be,” you say thinly, “It’s not your fault.”

You didn’t call. You missed her party at that one club she was always raving about. You stopped showing up for drinks. You did this.

“It’s not yours either,” comes Spencer’s reply.

The sigh that escapes your lips is shaky and shuddering. Exhaustion weighs it down, and Spencer doesn’t need to look at you to know tears are already streaking your face.

“You don’t know that. You didn’t hear her, Spence. You didn’t hear the way she was talking. It was—god, I was horrible,” you whisper, your voice barely steady. “Do you know I missed her birthday?”

“Sweetheart, you were working on a brief,” he says, like it’s supposed to absolve you of any guilt. “Even I barely saw you that week. It wasn’t your fault.”

You shake your head, your breath catching on a bitter laugh. “No, Spencer. I didn’t just miss the party—I missed everything.” You’re pacing now, as much as the small kitchen allows. When that proves too constricting, you stop, gripping the edge of the counter. Your eyes bore holes into the granite surface. “I called her at three. Three in the morning. Do you get how ridiculous that is? I’ve always been the first to call her. Always. And this year, I didn’t even remember until it was already over.” 

Your gaze trails upward to the small window above the sink where a framed caricature rests—a silly, exaggerated version of you and Spencer, drawn at some carnival she went to last year. She gave it to you for Christmas. It’s hard to think that you'll never receive another one from her. Birthdays, Christmases—she’d always said she’d be the one in charge of your “something old” on your wedding day.

You don’t even realise Spencer’s left the couch until you hear the gentle clink of a cup being set down on the counter beside you. You know he’s making tea—chamomile, with a dash of milk. Just the way you like it. Spencer steps closer, stopping just short of your space, giving you some room. 

“And you know what the worst part was? When I finally called, she just... she didn’t even sound angry. Just tired. Like she was expecting it. At first, I thought she was sad, or mad, or—I don’t know. Something. But she didn’t even bother to show up today.”

“She didn’t show up?” Spencer asks quietly as he reaches for the milk in the fridge. 

You shake your head slowly, your shoulders sagging just a little more. 

Spencer tries to keep his disappointment at bay seeing as his suggestion to meet her in person had been a hopeful one, born from his belief that face-to-face conversations could convey things that text messages or calls couldn’t. After all, studies showed that emotional confrontations were better handled in person—fewer misunderstandings, more connection.

It’s why he despises technology, why he once made the 45-minute drive back to your apartment after your sixth date, just so he could tell you he loved you in person. He’d thought the same principle would apply here, that sitting across from her over coffee might bring back some clarity or some form of resolution. That it could help mend something. But the thought of you sitting alone in a café, waiting for someone who never showed, splinters his heart.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmurs.

The tenderness in his voice threatens to undo you entirely. The tea sits untouched as you sink to the floor, your back pressed against the cool cabinets of the kitchen. You hear Spencer move, and for a moment, you think he’s going to pull you up, fuss about how the kitchen floor is no place to sit—how it’s probably crawling with bacteria and god-knows-what-else. But he doesn’t.

Instead, he lowers himself to sit cross-legged in front of you. “I’m sorry honey, you didn’t deserve that,” he says softly as he reaches out gently to brush away a stray tear from your cheek. 

And because he’s Spencer, he knows you well enough to sense when you’re drowning in your own spiral, battering yourself with equal parts blame and self-doubt. So, he leans in just slightly, adding, “You’re not horrible, sweetheart. You’re human. Everybody forgets things sometimes. Even birthdays.” The cup of tea scrapes lightly against the tiled floor as Spencer nudges it closer to your thigh. He pauses, offering a small smile. “The team forgot mine last year.” 

“I don’t think that makes it any better, Spence.” He tilts his head, considering. “It doesn’t,” he agrees, “But it doesn’t make you horrible either. I know you care, you care more than most people do. That’s not nothing.”

“Do you think I’ve changed?”

“How so?” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur, wrapping your arms tightly around yourself. “I’ve never missed her birthday. Ever. I don't do that. I never thought this would happen. Like, we used to talk about the kinds of houses we’d get when we were kids. We always said we’d live next door to each other with one of those gardens that connected, with those big bay windows to read by. And now she’s just... gone?” you huff a sharp laugh. “How the hell does that work?”

Rebuilding your house of cards means reshuffling your deck entirely—creating a new order, moving forward with new people and leaving some others behind. You’re not sure if you have it in you to learn new rules for a game you’d grown so comfortable playing a certain way.

“It’s normal for things to change as we grow up,” Spencer says again gently. “It doesn’t mean what you had wasn’t real or important.”

“I know that Spencer, I know things change. I know people change. But I don’t—” You pause, shaking your head. “I didn’t think I changed.” You know you’re being short with Spencer, snappy even, but you can’t help it. All certainty feels like it’s crumbled beneath you, your sense of normalcy torn apart. 

Everything changes. Nothing stays the same. If she can leave—What’s to stop Spencer from walking away too? What’s keeping him here? 

Certainly not the way you’re curling into yourself now, your knees drawn up, arms hugging them tightly. The tea sits forgotten beside you, it's steam curling into the air. Spencer’s kindness lingers around you but you can't bring yourself to hold on to any bit of it. Maybe you’ve convinced yourself that even that will disappear if you even try to reach for it.

“I don’t like change.” You can hear the petulance in your voice, the way it makes you sound like a child begging for time to stop. You can almost picture yourself, small and desperate, hands outstretched to hold the world still for just a moment longer. 

“In a way, she’s not wrong,” Spencer says softly, breaking the silence, “I think you’ve changed. I think deep down, you know that too.”

You look up at him sharply, blinking through teary lashes. You wonder if he means it as an accusation.

“I just don’t think it’s a bad thing,” he adds gently.

Your voice is bitter when you finally speak. “I don’t see how it isn’t.”

Spencer hums thoughtfully as he reaches out, taking your hand in his. Slowly, he coaxes you closer, guiding you to sit in his lap. You resist for a second but his patience doesn’t falter. So, eventually, you let yourself be pulled in, resting against his chest.

“Well, you got that job you wanted,” he starts. “And the promotion you worked so hard for,” he adds after a moment.

You huff, the sound half a laugh and half a sob. “That doesn’t mean anything. It’s just a job.”

“It’s not just a job,” he counters, his hand stroking along your back. “It’s something you wanted. Something you earned.”

Your head shakes against his chest, your cheek brushing the soft fabric of his shirt. “Yeah, but at what cost? I messed everything else up. I got so busy, and I started—”

“You got busy because you were doing something you loved,” he interrupts softly, grounding you before the spiral takes hold again. “And I know it’s hard to see it like that right now, but it made you happy. You know over 65% of working adults report feeling disengaged with their jobs? But you found something you care about, and yeah, it made life busier, but it made you happier too. That’s more than just a great thing—that’s amazing.”

“I guess,” you mumble, sniffling into his shirt. 

“I’m just saying,” Spencer continues patiently. “Change is an enigma. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it’s bad. But there’s always a reason for change.”

“Bad reasons,” you mutter, almost under your breath.

“Not always,” Spencer says softly. “Change is growth.”

“Will you tell me? If I’m changing too much?” you ask quietly after a beat of silence. “It’s not that I don’t want to grow but… I just don’t want us to grow… apart.”

Spencer leans forward, his forehead brushing lightly against yours. “Sweetheart, I’m in love with you. I don’t think there’s a version of you I wouldn’t love.”

“What if I work too much?” you ask, tilting your head.

“I’d send a SWAT team to shut down your office.” A small smile breaks through and for a fleeting moment, you actually consider whether he could pull it off. Knowing Spencer? He probably could.

“And if I forget your birthday?” 

“I’d remind you by celebrating it for an entire week,” he grins. “But you’d never forget. You’re too thoughtful for that.”

“What if I’m not, though?” you press again, not entirely convinced. “What if I forget things, or miss out important stuff, and you’ll get sad or mad at me and—”

Spencer’s expression softens further, his hand reaching to cradle your cheek. “You will change,” he says calmly. “And I’ll change. That’s inevitable. And yeah, maybe I’ll get sad or mad one day—” 

“You got mad this morning,” you point out quietly.

Spencer’s lips twitch in a knowing smile. “You were mad at me first,” he counters.

“You didn’t kiss me goodbye,” you grumble.

“I did!” he insists, chuckling softly. “You were asleep, and I kissed you on the forehead. Twice, actually. And regardless, honey, I love you because you’re you. And you’re not going anywhere—not if I have any say in it. We’ll both change. We’ll grow together, and I promise that every version of me will love every version of you. I don’t think that will ever change.”

“You loved me even when I spilt scalding hot cocoa on your cashmere sweater on our first date?”

“I think I fell in love with you then,” Spencer says without hesitation, his smile mirroring your own. “Lots of things change, honey,” he continues, “Like how we’re getting a cat next week. You wouldn’t have been able to do that at your old apartment.”

You can’t help the small smile that pulls at your lips. Spencer’s never been an “animal person” outside of his fish—which he hadn’t even bothered naming until you came along. But getting him on board with a cat had been surprisingly easy. Even if you’d asked for a zoo, Spencer’s fairly certain he would’ve found a way to make it work just because you’re you. 

“Stupid apartment manager,” you grumble. 

“Stupid apartment manager,” Spencer echoes with mock solemnity. His lips twitch in a small smile. “And now all I have to worry about is my stupid hardwood floors.”

“We’ll train him,” you say with a smile of your own.

“Who’s we?” Spencer counters, raising an eyebrow.

You roll your eyes, swatting at his leg.

“Ow,” he says, the mock pain exaggerated as he rubs his knee. “See, I got shot in the leg. That’s change too.”

You scoff lightly. “Oh, and that’s supposed to be good change?” You ask, unimpressed.

Spencer leans back, his expression earnest. “If I hadn’t gotten shot in the leg, I wouldn’t have met you.”

You narrow your eyes at him. “That happened a year before we even met.”

“I got shot in the leg, which slowed down the speed I walked for a good year and a half. If I hadn’t been limping a little slower, I might’ve caught an earlier train or missed yours entirely. It’s a classic chaos theory example. Even the smallest variables can lead to the most significant outcomes. And I’d say meeting you was a pretty significant outcome.”

You roll your eyes, but this time a genuine laugh escapes you. The deck of cards may change, your house of cards may collapse every now and then and a reshuffle might be needed. But one thing always remains untouched in every game of cards: The Joker.

“You’re ridiculous.”

“And you’re perfect,” he counters, pressing a kiss to your forehead. 

If there’s one thing you can always count on, it’s Spencer—Ever ready with his with his matter-of-fact tone and  Spencer-brand wit to coax a laugh out of you whenever you need it most.

Spencer, being Spencer, is right. Time passes, people change, and you have to trudge along with it—even as your fragile paper cards fall to the floor around you. There’s good change, there’s bad change, and sometimes there’s no change at all. 

Like how, now, even when you’re already smiling, laughter escaping your lips in small bursts, you still sit together on the kitchen floor talking for a little while longer, hands intertwined, cold tea by your side and all. 

When the cat arrives a week later, and his unexpected potty spot behind your fig plant by Spencer’s bookshelf is only discovered two days later? Bad change. Very very bad change.

When you finally get the cat fully potty trained and, three weeks later, track down a new version of The Iliad for Spencer with help from Penelope—a first edition, no less, despite his second edition being beloved? Good change. Great change even.

And when Spencer gets down on one knee 18 weeks later, right there by the same station where you first met, his knee now fully healed and you no longer rushing for a train? That’s perhaps the best kind of change.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you so much for reading! likes, comments or reblogs are very much appreciated!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: when you love someone by day6 (first kpop song rec hell yeah) a frame by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler

[seven10th]

When It Rains It Pours

pairing: hwang jun-ho x f!reader

summary: the odd police man you keep taking around to different islands reveal something that’s very familiar at the club you work at.

warning: none tbh, but reader has a bit of lore because I like world building lol :3 she has two jobs: the main one is working as a bottle girl at a HipHop club in Hongdae, the second one is captain of a small touristic boat she manages, which she followed as a passion. Also, I describe her as foreign in this for some small details but that can be ignored :D

word count : 1.3k o.0

This is my first try at a fanfic so advice is welcomed :3

September 24th, 2023

The weather has been less than kind lately, and paired up with the odd client Captain Park has redirected to you, you came to realise that maybe the tours you took in the summer for schoolchildren to see how it was on a boat were something you took for granted.

“Can you go north two hundred meters mor-“

“No.” You responded to Jun-ho, the man that kept you occupied, yet paid. “There’s too many rock formations underneath the water ahead. They might puncture the motor or the bottom of the boat. Or you if you chose to dive here.”

You couldn’t tell if he kept suggesting doing stupid things intentionally or not. He was a detective, for fuck’s sake. You did your research before agreeing on taking him on these trips, not believing it was really a man working in the korean police system that could spend almost every waking second on a boat, searching for some secret island.

As he puts on his diving suit, you glance at the photo copy of the card used to coax people into joining the game. A circle, a triangle and a fucking square are holding this man in a short leash, all his energy put into the search for this damn island…  You didn’t help him because he paid heavy, he was relatively polite or you pitied him when Captain Park told him his boat was broke… No.

It was because of that damn pink solider.

September 2nd, 2022

Since the weather got chillier, you had to lessen the ammount of trips you’d make each month, now doing them thrice a week, causing you to take more shifts at W-East Coast, a well known club in Hongdae, popular amongst both locals and tourists. Blasting Hip-hop and rap music at every waking hour,bustling with customers and bottle girls in the main area and private dancers in the back, the club was a tourist attraction itself.

And so were you. Of course you were a bit deflated upon seeing a line of girls holding their cvs, all dressed up head to toe in attire fitting for the club’s theme.

“Finally! Ma giiiiiirl!”

Upon entering the manager’s office, you were welcomed by a very stuffy room, walls covered in record cases, basket jerseys and random awards won by the club. The manager, a guy in his early 30’s greeted you cheerfuly as he held his hand up to dap him. Upon you doing so, he snatched your CV, barely paying attention to it as he turned back to look at you.

“You’re hired! Ah, you’re perfect for this job! A godsend if I say so.” He circled you, not in a creepy way but… it definitelly made you a bit awkward and confused onto why you were the perfect candidate yet when much more experienced and probably korean speaking girls were lining up for hours outsi-

“A foreigner will be perfect as a bottlegirl! Dad’s gonna be super proud of me for finding a foreigner to do this…And ya aint bad lookin either’… just need a bit of… Glam!” The manager grinned as you understood exactly why you were the perfect choice.

Not that you were complaining. No. It was actually one of the best jobs since you have been hunting them in Korea.

A club where music in a language you knew was played, surrounded by people who simply were amazed by the fact you were… you. And to be honest, you started to like 50 Cent’s songs despite them being overplayed. Salary raises came easy, especially if the manager, who you learned called himself Ty, reference to the overplayed artist, called you in for music management. It did help for your reccomendation to write ‘Assistant manager’ afterall.

Octomber 31st, 2022

Your boat hours were cut even shorter with the shortening of the day, meaning you took more and more shifts at W-East Coast, making you one of the most popular bottle girls. The customers were a bit shy to order from you, especially when you took the extroverted and friendly persona. And maybe you felt a bit like an animal in a zoo with how they looked at you all the time, sticking out even between the bottle girls, which only three more were foreigners… but it paid well. Matter of fact, very well. So well that…

“Nah, man. Sorry. I’m just the server. Dancers are back there.” You spoke from behind the bar as you refilled a ice bucket when a guy in a pink jumpsuit approached. His voice was muffled by the balck mask he wore, a white square on it.

“My boss can pay you very well. They have shown an interest in you, and are willing to spend any sum.” The guy continued, very insistent. Usually, they’d leave or ask for a photo, but this time, you felt something was odd, really odd. With the skill you earned after working for 2 months there, you looked around the club to see another 2 bottle girls having some odd business card in their back pockets, identitcal to the one the pink guy slid to you over the bar. A idea began to shape in your mind seeing as the two girls who got the card were the foreign ones, the korean bottle girls not having any on them.

You tried to ignore him, working onto the expensive order you just got but he only kept going.

“It wouldn’t take much of your time. And it’s very discreet. No one you know would know.”

Seeing you still ignoring him, he gave up but slid the card further towards you, only moving when you finally pocketed it with a roll of your eyes.

“Really? No fucking tip? And he says he knows a rich guy…” You muttered to yourself before going to serve your table, now more aware of the people looking at you. Did you really stick out that much?

September 24th, 2023

Your spaced out a bit, the memories of the halloween party from last year resurfacing in your mind, the same card in the photograph was in your drawer in the small apartment you rented.

“The one in the club didn’t seem to have a gun…” You muttered while thinking of how Jun-ho described the guards he interacted with… Tracksuit, room, guns, shapes, circle, triangle, square- It was all a big mush of ideas on the notebook he carried, which you’d look through when he’d be diving in search for some phone ‘he lost’.

A few minutes passed in a haze as you looked at the surface of the wtaer, realising the only person who had an explanation for the weird guy that day was a good few meters under the water, the sea a bit aggitated. A knot formed in your throat and suddenly you were up, tugging at the iron chain that held him connected to the boat. You pulled on it until he finally came to the surface, gasping for air.

“HEY! What was that for?” He yelled, a bit angry from being yanked out. Yet you didn’t have any explanation. You simply stared at hime, blank faced before speaking stern.

“The weather is worse. Get out of the water unless you want the waves to ragdoll your ass around those rocks.” You commanded. It was a lie. The water was okay-ish for the time of the year but a sudden fear ran through you. You have been working with him for a good three months now but couldn’t say you developed any relationship besides the customer-worker one… it was the information he knew and the strong will that drove him to keep on searching for the island that made you realise just how serious this could actually be…

[ravennaortiz]

Sorry About My Tail

Summary: You call Juices bluff about having no control of his tail one night. As always 18+

You were washing glasses behind the bar when you felt the familiar feel of coolness slinking around your waist. Followed by the steady tapping of a heavy spaded tip on your abdomen.

“Juice. Your tail” you stated not even bothering to glance down. You knew what it would be and who it would belong to. This was something that happened often since you had started working for the Sons.

“Shit. My bad.” Stated Juice as he glanced over his shoulder and tugged on his tail removing it from you. “Damn thing just has a mind of its own.” He chuckled as he gave you a sweet goofy grin. His hand keeping a hold of it as the tip flicked back and forth.

“Tell me again why it’s only yours that seems to have a mind of its own?” you questioned innocently as you looked at him. Spending time with the club had garnered you some inside knowledge and while you knew most of them were demons of some degree, Juice was the only one whose tail acted on what he called its own impulses.  Your questioned garnered chuckles from Tig, Chibs and Happy who were seated at the bar nursing beers.

Juice scoffed at your question. “Cause I’m different that’s all and young. Not like I’m trying to feel you up”

“Different for sure” muttered Happy making you all laugh as Juice shot him a glare.

“Hmmmm, Half and Rats tails never snake themselves around me and technically as far as demons go they are younger” you replied casually. Careful to keep the challenge out of your voice but letting it be in your eyes as you glanced at Juice before turning your back to him to put glasses up. You saw the flash of red in his eyes briefly in the dirty mirror behind the wall and bit your lip. You had long suspected that your friend and roommate had full control of his tail.

 Many a night you had woken to it sliding up your thigh, slipping under your skirts and dresses during club parties, stroking your hair or resting on your shoulder when guys from other clubs approached you. The other day while passing by his room you had watched as he easily caught his computer with it as it started to fall off his desk. You had also seen him catch other objects as they went to fall from the corner of your eye, using it to stir food, even using it to eat when he was working on club stuff.

“Anything else I can get you three before I head out?” you inquired sweetly as you turned to the other three men.

“All good lassie. Have a good night” stated Chibs as they shook their heads.

“I’ll see ya at home. Night guys” you called as you grabbed your jacket and purse before patting Juice on his shoulder and heading towards the door.

“I think she might be onto your horny tail brother” stated Tig once you were gone making the others laugh as Juice flipped him off.

Later that Night

Once you got home you had showered and changed into a cut little lingerie set. You bit your lip as you looked at yourself in your bedroom mirror. The sound of a bike coming down the street and parking had your heart racing as you moved to grab the silky robe and put it on. Leaving your room you made your way to the kitchen trying to be casual as you heard the front door open and close.

“Hey” greeted Juice as he stepped into the kitchen swallowing hard as he noted you in your little silk robe.

“Hey. Leftovers are in the fridge” you called over your shoulder as you reached up into your wine cabinet and pretended to be looking for a bottle.

“Sounds good” stated Juice as he made his way to the fridge his mind on anything but food as he watched as your robe lifted revealing the lower part of your ass to him. Turning away he opened the fridge door slowly as he moved his tail towards you.

You grinned as you felt the cool skin and spaded tip trailing up your leg. Glancing down you watched as it got higher on your thigh. “Juice your tail is doing it again” you stated as you turned to look at him,, lowering your feet back flat to the floor.

“Sorry” he stated as he turned to look.

“I know you have control of it” you stated quietly as you grabbed it by the tip gently as he started to pull it away.

“I don’t” started Juice before letting out a groan as you rubbed your thumb over the tip in a circle.

“I wanna see what else it can do.” You stated as you turned letting your robe flow open. Revealing your body decked out in Juices favorite color.

A half hour later you were on your knees in the kitchen with Juices tail buried deep in your pussy as he used it to fuck your pussy as his cock was buried in your throat. You had lost track of how many times he had made you cum as he kept up a relentless pace.

“Can’t wait anymore” he groaned as he poured his release into your mouth with a powerful thrust. You happily swallowed him up as his tail started to slow inside of you. Once you had pulled off him you smiled up at him.

“How quick can demons go again?” you asked as your hand snaked down between your legs. Juice grinned before speaking.

 “Let’s get upstairs to a bed and I’ll show you. You better call Chibs though and call off for tomorrow and maybe the next day. You won’t be able to walk well for a bit” he stated as he lifted you up and moved to the bedrooms.

[ohgeeeznotagain]

Fear Not the Fire

Greetings, fellow humans! Insert "finally remembered our password" jokes here 🤓. In the mad dash to finish our album last year and start promoting it, we sort of completely forgot to do anything with this platform. I don't know how many of you keep tabs on Oh Geeez, Not Again music on Tumblr, but if that's you - we're glad you're here and we hope you're doing ok. 🙂 Wanted to catch you up to speed on the big events of our expedition since last June.

1. Our album MAPMAKER is out now! 🗺️

Telling the story of leaving the comforts of home for the limitless dangers and possibilities of the forest. MAPMAKER is a coming of age story that at some point all of us must face.

Along the way, you’ll find joy, defeat, fear, acceptance, and maybe even defy the odds and get the happy ending you’ve always dreamed of. But the only way to find out is to start. To leave behind the familiar and face the unknown. 

Pack your boots and jacket, and put a song in your heart. Your expedition departs now 🌲

Listen to MAPMAKER on all platforms here:

2. We played our first headlining show!!

To celebrate the release of MAPMAKER, we were honored to take the stage at Anodyne Coffee for our first-ever headlining show! It was an amazing night, and we were grateful to share the moment with so many of our friends!

We captured the moment in our latest music video. Catch the video for "Mapmaker" - the album's title track - right here:

3. Our year-end Livestream from Park Street

To close out 2024, we had the opportunity to go live on YouTube from Port Washington's Park Street studios. It was an honor to spend the afternoon with the fine folks at Park Street and virtually send out the year of MAPMAKER with friends from around the world!

Tune in to the full stream here:

4. WE'RE GOING ON TOUR!!! 🚐

We're so excited to announce that we'll be taking the Oh Geeez, Not Again expedition to more folks than ever before this year! Our first mini BLAZE A TRAIL tour kicks off on April 1, and we hope that we'll get to see YOU there! While this is a small start, we hope that it will lead to bigger things down the road. It is our goal to bring our expedition to the whole world some day!

Tickets and current information are listed here on our all-new website. Info will be updated as final ticket links become available! Hope to see you on the road:

Finally, as 2025 looks to be a year of upheaval around the world, we hope that our music can be a space of inspiration for you wherever you are on your journey. We're so fortunate to have such a diverse and creative group of friends and followers who we've met through our music, and the whole message of MAPMAKER is finding a way to hold onto your dreams and passions in a world that wants to strike them down. Whatever it is that you're getting up for every day, I hope that it sustains you through the times of doubt and fear. And whenever the monsters should find you, we hope you hear the words of "Conifer":

Fear not the fire, the glowing eyes They deal delusion, they seek divides But should they trap you, the trees will give you rest

I hope that our music can be one of those sheltering trees for you. We make these songs for all of you, and if they inspire you to keep creating, believing, or simply existing, then that's the greatest honor to us.

Safe travels, - Sean 🧡

[noona-clock]

Heart of the Ranch - Part 8, Final Chapter

Genre: Cowboy!AU, Slice of Life, Fluff

Pairing: Namjoon x You (Female!Reader)

Warnings: None

Part 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8 | Words: 3,298

A Few Months Later

When you realized that your hand was resting on the inside handle of the car door as your rideshare drove up the graveled road toward BTS Ranch, you had to laugh softly to yourself.

Today, you were ready to open the door at a moment's notice because you could barely wait a moment longer to see a certain handsome cowboy (something he wasn't particularly fond of being called, by the way), but a few months ago it had been because you could barely wait to get out and check your phone for any work notifications you'd missed on the flight.

It's funny how things can change so quickly, isn't it?

Your heart jumped up into your throat as the car approached the house, and when you saw Namjoon step out onto the porch, an anxious smile curved your lips. You were good-anxious to see him since it had been several weeks since your last visit here, but you were still nervous-anxious because... Namjoon still made you nervous-anxious like that. Not particularly in a bad way. Just in a 'I've only been dating this person for a few months' kind of way, y'know?

Anyway.

The second the car stopped in front of the house, you pulled on the handle, pushed the door open, and sprang out of your seat.

Your eyes connected with Namjoon's as you jogged over to him, your heart skipping a beat as a wide grin appeared on his lips -- and dimpled his cheeks.

He held his arms out as you approached, and when you practically threw yourself into those strong, familiar, comforting arms, he wrapped them around you so tightly that it almost hurt to breathe. But boy did it feel wonderful.

"I missed you," he murmured as he buried his face in your hair. "Ten weeks is too long to go without seeing you."

"Ten weeks?!" you laughed. "It's been four and a half!"

Trust me, you'd been keeping track.

"Well, it felt like ten. Felt like ten months, actually."

His words made you beam and squeeze his neck tighter.

But then you pulled back just enough to see his face, to grin and look him in the eye when you replied, "I missed you, too, cowboy."

Namjoon huffed with irritation, though he still captured your lips in a sweet yet hungry greeting kiss.

"I'm not a cowboy," he grumbled against your lips, as he always did when you called him a cowboy.

Before you could answer with your customary "You are to me," the driver of your rideshare beeped his horn. Both yours and Namjoon's heads swiveled to look, seeing the driver had already taken your luggage out of the trunk and was simply letting you know he was leaving.

"Thanks!" Namjoon called out, lifting one arm to wave.

You were hoping that your boyfriend would put his arm back where it had been and continue kissing you. So, when he did the opposite -- stepped away from you and let his other arm slide out from around your waist -- you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a whine of protest.

But really, you knew if Namjoon was cutting your reunion short, it was for a good reason: the ranch was busy.

So, you scampered after him, reaching out and holding onto his arm. "What do you need me to do?" you asked as he took the handle of your suitcase and began heading inside.

Namjoon slipped his arm out of your grasp but only so he could wrap it around your shoulders as the two of you strolled back to the house.

"I was in the middle of doing laundry if you'd like to help me with that," he told you before gently kissing your cheek.

"Aww, look at you," you grinned. "Asking me for help so easily!"

"I know, I'm practically a changed man," Namjoon chuckled.

"But in the best way possible," you assured him. "Just remember that you're not the only one who's changed around here."

As the two of you neared the steps of the front porch, Namjoon slowed to a stop and turned to face you. "What do you mean?"

"Well, first of all, I haven't taken this much time off of work... ever."

"True," he agreed.

"But also..." You lifted your arms and gestured all around you. "Look at this place! You have guests and you're not running yourself ragged!"

Namjoon tried to hide an incredibly pleased expression, but you knew how proud he was of the ranch. And then he leaned in, his nose just barely brushing yours. "We both have you to thank," he whispered.

You moved your hands to rest on his chest and whispered back, "I barely did anything. It was all you."

"Oh, please," Namjoon scoffed, and feeling his breath tickle your lips made you shiver. "That week you stayed here after your friends left basically changed everything. I mean, besides when you guys re-did my website and started my social media accounts and raised all that money to fix the fence and get the tree taken away."

"Yeah, all of that was nothing," you teased with a dismissive wave of your hand. "You're right, it was really all me and everything I did by myself for that one week."

Namjoon rolled his eyes good-naturedly and leaned in the last little bit to press his lips to yours quickly. "Come on, oh humble girlfriend of mine. Those towels won't fold themselves."

You simply chuckled softly, helping to lift your suitcase up the steps and following Namjoon inside.

"Here you go," Namjoon murmured as he carefully set down a mug of steaming hot tea on a coaster next to you.

With a quick glance away from the computer screen, you thanked him and happily received his greeting kiss.

As he pulled up a nearby chair, you lifted your mug and sipped the strong but heavenly tea that you'd learned was the cook's secret recipe. It was strong, yes, but incredibly comforting and it had taken hardly any time at all for you to request a cup every single night.

"How is it looking?" Namjoon asked as he leaned toward you to peer at the computer screen.

But of course, you couldn't let an opportunity to see his dimples escape, so you answered by reaching up and gently squeezing his cheeks with your thumb and index finger. "Lookin' handsome," you said with a slight smirk.

Namjoon shrugged your arm away, and even though you knew he knew by now what your M.O. was when you answered his mundane questions with a compliment, he still smiled and gave you exactly what you wanted.

Satisfied, you turned back to the computer and said, "Not bad."

"Better or worse than when you were here last?"

"Definitely better," you assured him.

With a nod, Namjoon said, "I'll take it."

"What about bookings for the rest of the month and next?" you asked before taking another sip of tea.

"Last I checked, almost full," he told you, very obviously trying to tamp down a smile.

You didn't hide your smile and said, "See? We told you our plan would work."

"I never doubted --"

Your sharp look stopped Namjoon from continuing his sentence. Instead, he said, "I learned my lesson, don't worry. I will never doubt you again."

"Do you know how attractive a smart man who learns from his mistakes is?" you asked.

Despite the flush of pink blooming on his cheeks, Namjoon nodded toward the computer screen and asked, "Do you think I could hire another part-timer anytime soon? Or at least an accountant?"

His words immediately wrinkled your forehead in consternation. "You already have an accountant," you pointed out, trying not to sound too offended.

"Baby, I --" Namjoon cut himself off with a huff and lifted one hand to rest on the back of your neck, squeezing you there gently. "I can't keep asking you to do this for free. And I don't care if you're offering. You deserve to be paid, and if you won't take my money, I should find someone who will."

Honestly... you weren't sure how to feel. You could see his point -- it was one thing to implement the ideas you came up with, but it was another to utilize your professional skills without actually putting you on the payroll. But there was absolutely no way you would take his money! And there was also absolutely no way you would put his finances into the hands of someone else!

...A thought popped into your head, and even though it was a thought you'd acknowledged several times over the last few weeks, you didn't have time right now to voice it.

So, you simply said, "That can be put off for another time. The answer is yes, I think you can hire another set of hands."

And you would leave it at that. For now.

Namjoon nodded, moved to stand up, pressing a kiss to your temple on his way up, then murmured that he had to go get the cows into the barn for the night.

"Tell them 'Hi' for me," you called after him before turning back to the computer to finish up for the night. You knew the two of you would meet back up in Namjoon's room soon enough, so there was no need to say 'good night' just yet.

Every single night you'd spent here during the last few months (excluding when you were a guest, of course), you had always gotten ready for and into bed before Namjoon joined you. No matter how much you nagged him to leave certain chores for the next day and turn in earlier, you were always the first one to turn down the covers for the night.

So, when you trudged up the narrow staircase to the attic-turned-bedroom and opened the door to hear Namjoon brushing his teeth in the en suite bathroom, you were both surprised.

Namjoon stuck his head out through the doorway, his brow wrinkled as he looked at you with an 'Everything okay?' expression.

Truth be told, you were nervous. You'd been sitting at the front desk, long after emptying your cup of tea, ruminating on that thought from earlier. You hadn't allowed the thought to settle any of the times it came to you previously, but now that you were back here at the ranch -- more specifically with Namjoon -- you figured it was time. It was time to stop and truly think about --

"It's late," Namjoon's voice interrupted your contemplative stupor, and you just now realized he had finished his nightly routine and left the bathroom to stand in front of you by the doorway.

"Yeah," you replied with an awkward chuckle. "I didn't realize."

Namjoon reached out to place his hands on your upper arms, his forehead still deeply wrinkled as he gazed at you. "...Everything okay?"

You replied with a nod before stepping up and sliding your arms around his waist.

"Look," he murmured, returning your embrace. "If this is about me hiring an accountant --"

"No," you interrupted. "...I mean, actually it is, but not how you think. Probably. I -- Let me get ready for bed, and then we can..."

"Sure," Namjoon agreed.

But before he could step away, you buried your nose in his shoulder, inhaling the scent you were so familiar with by now. You never would've guessed that the smell of pine would end up bringing you so much comfort, but here we are.

"I'll be quick," you whispered, and then darted into the newly vacant bathroom.

After haphazardly brushing your teeth, rushing through your skincare, and hurriedly changing into your pajamas, you made sure all of the lights in the room were turned off before shuffling over to Namjoon's bed.

He lifted the covers for you, one arm laid out across your pillow so you could immediately cuddle up against him.

And as soon as his arm wrapped around your shoulder, as soon as your head settled into the crook of his neck, he said, "Okay, what's going on?"

You let out a shaky breath and told yourself to just say it. There was no logical reason for you to be so nervous, and you would feel a lot better once it was all out in the open.

"I'm just wondering what my future looks like," you began, relieved to hear your voice was calm and steady. "Obviously, I can't keep taking time off to come visit, but I also don't want to bring work with me. I want to spend as much time with you as I can."

Namjoon simply hummed in agreement.

"So... I don't know, it sounds kind of crazy now that I'm about to say it out loud, but maybe I should --- maybe I could... "

Come on, Y/N, just rip the band-aid off and say it!

"Move here and help you run the ranch."

It took everything in you not to let out a huge sigh of relief.

But you had to admit, it did feel incredible to finally share that thought with someone else.

As the seconds ticked by, though, that incredible feeling began to wane because Namjoon wasn't saying anything.

Now, you knew him well enough by now to know that he frequently needed time to process things before he could respond.

But... I mean, if he had to think about this, the answer was probably going to be 'No' right? He wasn't ready for that yet. He didn't know the two of you were that serious yet.

So, you were about to assure him that it was just a thought, and you were more than fine to pretend like you'd never brought it up. You would say 'good night,' turn over so he wouldn't have to see your embarrassment, and then attempt to sleep.

But Namjoon spoke before you had the chance -- thankfully.

"You would do that?" he asked softly.

Well, it wasn't a 'No,' so you replied with a nod. "I would," you confirmed in a whisper.

After a few more seconds, Namjoon leaned back, forcing you to look at him. You couldn't quite make out his expression, honestly; it could've been one of surprise, confusion, or even a mix of the two.

"You... would pack up your whole life and leave the city and your job and your friends... to live at the ranch?"

Well, when he put it like that, no wonder he was surprised and confused.

"No," you amended. "I would pack up my whole life and leave the city and my job and my friends for you. You could be anywhere in the world, on this ranch or not, and that's where I'd want to be."

Namjoon searched your face, his gaze flitting about as if he was actually looking for something. And then he said, "Can I just ask you one question?"

"Of course."

He inhaled deeply before asking, "If I told you that I wanted to move to you, would you let me?"

Just as he had with your idea, you thought about it for a few seconds. But then you said, "Of course I would, if I thought that's what would be best for us."

"...So you don't think that's what's best for us?"

You shook your head and hummed negatively.

"Why not?" he asked, and you appreciated that his tone was anything but accusatory.

"Because you wouldn't be happy living in the city."

"And you would be happy living here?"

Okay, now you understood his line of thinking.

You moved your arm up between the two of you, resting your hand on his chest and locking your gaze on his. "Namjoon," you said softly. "I don't live in a big city because that's the only place I ever imagined myself living or because I'm used to the noise and lights or anything. I didn't move there because I wanted to, I just... ended up there. I got a job with a big company and found an apartment close to the office, and that was that. I followed the job, and that's exactly what I'll be doing this time, too. Of course, I love my job, but I guess it's really more accurate to say that I love my work. I've just gotten used to my job. But my job doesn't have you. And if I can do the work I love to do and be with you at the same time? Why wouldn't I jump at the chance?"

"But what about your friends?"

"Don't worry, I'm already devising an evil plan to get one or all of them to move here, too. That is -- if you'll have me," you told him. "But, for now, FaceTime and planes are there for us when we need them."

When he didn't reply for almost a minute, you added, "This place is your home. It's run you ragged the past few years, and I've never actually seen you anywhere else, but I just know. This is your ranch. You're the heart of this place, you belong here. I can't say the same about my apartment or my office. Of course, I love my friends, but we haven't always lived in the same place. We've been apart before, we can do it again. Our friendship is strong enough to survive anything. But... if I'm being honest, I'm afraid that I'm not strong enough to survive not being with you."

Maybe you were just imagining things, but it almost looked like Namjoon's eyes were... glassy? Almost like they were filling up with tears?

And when his lips curved into a derisive smile, and he murmured "Ah, shit," in a very watery voice, you knew that your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

You had never been adept at comforting people, but it was very obvious that Namjoon had yet to feel comfortable crying in front of you. So, you removed your hand from his chest and scooted closer to him. You pressed your forehead into his neck and shoulder, slid your arm over and around his back, and held him closely.

He did the same, holding you to him like a lifejacket in a vast ocean.

After what seemed like an hour or two, but was in reality probably just a few minutes, Namjoon pulled away just enough to rest his forehead against yours.

"I love you," he whispered. "I love you so much, and every time you're here, I just feel so... this place feels so... I don't know, complete. It breaks my heart every single time you leave, even though I know you're coming back. I've wanted to ask you pretty much since the beginning if you could just stay here, I just didn't want to be selfish."

"So, does that mean you'll have me?" you asked with a grin, anticipation thrumming throughout your whole body. "I can become a cowgirl?"

Namjoon groaned, and you couldn't help but giggle as he rolled his eyes at you.

"I'll let you live here on one condition: you have to stop calling me 'cowboy.'"

At that, your expression dropped. "Really?" you asked forlornly.

After a second or two of searching your pitiful face, Namjoon let out a sigh. "No, not really. Just promise you'll let me keep pretending I'm irritated about it."

"Deal," you answered immediately, and you truly couldn't wait any longer to seal your promise with a kiss.

Before you could get completely lost in his lips, though, you inched away and whispered, "I love you, too."

And you knew right then and there, feeling his lips brushing against yours, feeling his hands coming up to cradle your cheek and brush your hair away from your face, that this was the beginning of the rest of your life.

And nothing could've made you happier.

[jtl07]

Ok, here it goes. Hopefully an easier one that last time around: birthday, secret For any and all fandoms 👀

I SEE YOU AND YOUR SNEAKINESSS OKAY. and because i see it, i will actually do it: here's an attempt at gelphie ...

Elphaba wakes up to the sound of whispering. Hissing really - but it's different from the snake whisper of her father's admonitions. This is more like a vine creeping over a wall, flowers turning toward the sun.

Ah, Elphaba thinks, her eyes still closed. Galinda.

She focuses more and hears a second pair of footsteps with a heavier, lankier gait. Fiyero, she guesses - and is proven right when something tumbles and Galinda whisper-shouts his name. Elphaba almost wants to shake her head at them. Wonders how Galinda had managed to pull off those stunts when they'd first started living together, what with how loud she's being now. Galinda and quiet don't exactly go well together, Elphaba muses. But she wouldn't want to change a thing.

"Oh look, Elphie's smiling. She must be having a nice dream."

"...Do you think there are rabbits in her dream?"

Elphaba barely keeps herself from laughing as they bicker, forces herself to stay still so they can keep doing ... whatever it is they're doing. She had suspected that the two of them were up to something a week or so ago. Their furtive glances and swift topic changes whenever she'd joined them weren't exactly subtle. But Elphaba trusts them, knows they'll let her in on their secret in time.

She listens to them shuffle about for a couple minutes more and catches Fiyero whispering goodbye. Hears the soft sound of their kiss before she herself is surrounded by a familiar scent - a mix of horse and coffee and evening - before feeling a kiss is pressed onto her own forehead.

A door opens and closes.

Then the far side of her bed squeaks.

Elphaba holds back her own squeak, holds herself still as she feels Galinda wiggle under the covers and shuffle closer. Closer. Close enough to feel a sigh on her cheek.

"You can open your eyes now."

Elphaba contemplates continuing to feign sleep just to be stubborn but as always, Galinda is her undoing. Feels a gentle warmth brush against her jaw before settling against her cheek. "Please, Elphie? For me?"

And really, who is she to deny that voice, this girl, anything?

When Elphaba opens her eyes, the first thing she sees is Galinda. Eyes sparkling even in the low light, smile as soft as the gold hair splayed out on her pillow. Then she catches sight of green over Galinda's shoulder.

Elphaba lifts her head and gasps in wonder. Decorations of all colors cover nearly every surface of their room, the most prominent being a handpainted banner with two words she hasn't seen or heard in many years: Happy Birthday.

At first she thinks it's a mistake - they're beyond pranks now but Galinda is prone to jumping to the wrong conclusions. But then Elphaba thinks on the month; counts the days.

"Is this all right?"

Elphaba turns to see Galinda biting at her lip, her fingers playing nervously with the blankets.

"I just thought," Galinda starts, uncharacteristically hesitant before she finds her confidence, "Well, we knew you wouldn't want anything big, but we still wanted to celebrate you. I want to celebrate you." She drops the blankets and takes up Elphaba's hands instead. "Because you deserve to be celebrated, Elphie."

The colors surrounding them start to shimmer and blur - Elphaba doesn't realize she's crying until she feels Galinda's hands back on her face, wiping the tears away. "It's okay," Galinda murmurs, smiling the way she does when it's just them.

Elphaba nods because it is okay, more than: it's good. Good to be remembered, to be seen, to be heard - feels the press of lips against each cheek, and thinks as she feels them against her own mouth - to be loved.

[aappleslice]

THEY DON'T KNOW YOU LIKE I DO

[fish-and-forbear]

I think I am doing okay, here.

I wish so many things could have been different. My heart aches for it. But I wouldn't have found my voice, otherwise, nor would I have met so many wonderful people and creatures.

I wish the other one would worry less. It's very silly to realize he thought I was the panicked one... now I've organized my mind and honed my edge, and he's the one who keeps feeling down...

I don't entirely understand why... life is very good. Everyone is getting a little better. It aches because I can feel it like a physical creature clawing in the skull, and whispering all of the misery in this world, the atrocities, the tragedies, the possibilities of so many things ending, or of getting hurt or worse for who he is. And being afraid for the people he cares about...

But that doesn't help us sleep right now. It doesn't change that tomorrow morning the sun will rise and we don't have work and we could do anything, within reason of course.

I'm not sure. Maybe I am the stupid one for being so positive. But one of us has to be, now.

Maybe it's just my instincts waking up again. It's so easy to throw my aching heart and memories away when someone I care about needs me. And right now, once more, we just need to rest.

Nothing bad is even happening! We had a nice day. We talked to friends, we played a game and lost track of time because it was so much fun. I liked that game and the name is appropriate, Loop Hero. Ironic but fitting! We helped a friend feel better after a nightmare. And now it's OUR turn to rest.

Nothing is wrong. Everything is alright. Many big steps forward this coming week. I feel his worry creeping into my heart too, but there's no need for it. We were brave and confident before, we can be that way again. :)

- Grist

[keets-writing-corner]

Thinking a LOT about Lucifer in the latest Hazbin episode. Idk what I was expecting but not this??

As I was watching my immediate thought was just "huh... Lucifer is kinda of weird..." but as the episode went on I realized the issue

the dude is off the chain depressed, like he says it as a joke but holy cow it is SO BAD

He's manically just creating rubber ducks cuz his daughter really like it that one time but it's empty, it's never good enough but he keeps doing it, maybe cuz he doesn't know how to pass the time otherwise.

like I get the feeling he HAS better things he SHOULD be doing than making rubber duck after rubber duck. At first I was like, "Bruh why isn't the king of hell doing anything?" aaaaand then it became clear...

The dude is disassociating so bad he can barely hold a conversation let alone remember information. He clearly WANTS to, he wants to be involved with his daughter so bad, he wants to care about the things she's doing so bad, but his depression keeps interfering. It's like he can only hear every other word and he grasps onto the ones he does hear semi-out of context. Like you can see every time he catches something that he hadn't before and he just "well shit I didn't catch that part"

and that's why he reacts so weird when people talk to him. He is struggling so bad to engage with the conversation he's only getting 50% of it

does that look like the face of a man who knows what the hell the conversation is even about??? he is STRUGGLING

like Charlie spent so long telling him about the hotel, and he STILL didn't understand what she wanted. Yeah it comes off as ditzy but literally I've been in that position where your brain just "nope, not doing this right now" and nerfs your conversation comprehension. So as someone who's BEEN in that position, to me it feels exactly like what he's dealing with. He's sorta engaged with the conversation, but only as much as his brain will allow

For example, when I'm dealing with this, this is what someone talking to me feels like this where the crossed out parts are what I missed and bold is what I catch, "Hey! You know I was thinking for dinner we could either make some chicken with rice? But if you don't feel like cooking, pasta is super easy and you love that right? What do you want to do?" you can kinda get that someone is trying to talk to you about dinner, and towards the end you get the impression that they asked something that needs your input so you can decently put 2 and 2 together and try and pass off, but crucial bits were left out, I would have no idea that either chicken or pasta is in the conversation only having heard "rice". When someone is just talking at me, I can decently pass off as being engaged but the second I'm required to participate in the conversation I'm screwed. Seem familiar? At which point I have 2 options, try to give a bullshit answer, or admit that I missed what they were saying and ask them to repeat

Lucifer, unfortunately, is trying so damn hard to hide that he's dealing with like 24/7 dissociation, so he can't admit that he's missing entire chunks of the conversation, hence his really weird replies. He does eventually get the full picture and then he and Charlie start having the real conversation

Also, the Alastor/Lucifer rivalry was hilarious but also really indicative of more of what Lucifer is dealing with

Alastor is, unfortunately, really good at picking up people's insecurities, and thanks to Charlie's description earlier and watching Lucifer clearly trying to overcompensate, he immediately picks up on the fact that Lucifer KNOWS he struggles to be a good dad (we know cuz it's cuz of the depression, hard to be engaged when your brain keeps turning off) and decides to rub salt in the wound by pretending he's been acting as a surrogate father to Charlie. Now why Alastor decided to pick a fight with the king of hell is beyond me, I do not understand Alastor (and I LIKE IT) (maybe it's cuz Alastor thinks he's hot shit and was expecting Lucifer to at least have heard of him but Lucifer just treats him like a nobody? who knows)(why would Lucifer listen to radio anyways when he can't even pay attention to a conversation it'd just be white noise)

But yeah I just was expecting someone who oozed either charisma or presence and instead I got a depressed dad who's dissociating so bad he can barely function and be present in his life. The only thing it seems he CAN do is make rubber ducks cuz his daughter really liked it that one time

Idk Lucifer is tragic to me. Whatever the full details of what heavan did to him absolutely broke him and he can't deal with it. He's aware of it, and he doesn't know how to fix it, so he tries to over compensate and sorta makes an ass out of himself but no one says or does anything cuz this guy is supposed to be THE king of hell

Suddenly it's making a lot more sense why he just rolls over and lets heaven do what it wants and even told Charlie to go in his place the start of the show. He's not in any headspace to hold a basic conversation let alone negotiate! He didn't even know who Alastor was, he's been so out of touch

idk I like him, he seems sweet, I hope Charlie brings some light back into his life. He really needs to get out of that rubber duck room

[tender-rosiey]

“GOOD! NOW PUNCH HIS FACE!”

— when your baby and gojo, geto, nanami, toji, and sukuna get protective over you (f!reader)

a/n: I am alive!! as an apology here is a multi-character post 🙏 btw in toji's part, you're megumi's mom

GOJO SATORU:

two peas in a pod, twins, copies: these are all things people have called your husband and son.

honestly, they’re not wrong. your son has his father’s looks—satoru swears he has your nose and ears but anyway—and he carries the same protectiveness and love he holds for you, if not amplified.

you can’t count on one hand the amount of times the house has been turned upside down because of their fights for a cuddle session with you.

of course, you have always tried suggesting them simply sharing you, but these problem children would rather eat raw zucchini than ever share the cuddle time.

so while your son is barely six, you can still count on him to team up with satoru against anyone who wrongs you in anyway like what’s happening right now for example.

you’re out with your lovely family to buy some groceries, and since they both were whining about getting some sweets, you allowed them to go and snatch a couple from the next aisle.

on the other hand, you stayed to look for another type of detergent to clean the floor—especially since satoru got this new type of paint for s/n and it’s quite an endeavor to remove it with a regular detergent.

however, being in the cleaning supplies section never guaranteed the lack of filthy men who can’t take no for an answer. this one man approaches you, smug grin on his face as he leans on the wall, “what’s a pretty lady like you doing alone?”

“buying groceries like a normal person; now please leave me alone.”

he quickly frowns, “don’t be so stingy doll,” his hand extends towards your arm, “I can show you a good time; I promise—“

the man is swiftly smacked with an egg on his face, and he is left with the egg dripping down his face, “what’s your wrong with your kid, man?!” he yells at the person behind you.

he then grumbles, “ruined a potential good night.”

“my kid was absolutely right in what he did,” you hear satoru’s voice. you then feel a hand on your shoulder, and you’re pulled into a chest you’re all too familiar with, “’toru—“

your husband shoots a small smile your way, pressing a quick kiss to your lips, before looking at his son, “that last throw was very good, s/n! throw another one but just below his stomach."

a cheshire cat-like grin is plastered on your husband’s face as s/n prepares to launch another egg at the man.

there is a very evident scowl on your son’s face as he yells, “don’t you ever bother mama again, you stinky bum crumb!”

the man gasps and tries to make a run for it, but your son wouldn’t be the son of gojo satoru if he doesn’t manage to land the hit exactly where he wants.

the man quickly crumbles to the ground screaming and alerting literally everyone in the store.

so satoru picks both you and s/n and makes a run for it.

you hold tightly onto him, “wait, ‘toru, the groceries!”

“we can always order! saving my princess and son is more important!”

your son grumbles, “but I want to hit the rude man!”

“me too, champ, but—“ satoru sweat-drops and glances behind him, “I doubt the angry security guards would like that!”

GETO SUGURU:

your twin girls are one of the sassiest to exist.

in a way, they take after their father who is also pretty sassy but very low-key.

the sass of all three combined is terrible to be the victim of. luckily for you, they don’t dare direct their triple ray towards you, especially—in any argument—at least one will try to win you over.

if it’s suguru trying to stay on your good side, then he is hugging you from behind, pressing feather-like kisses on your shoulder and whispering about how sweet you are. if it’s the girls, then they cling to your legs and keep yelling about how much they love you.

so it is safe to say that you have a small squad to protect you from any potential “danger”.

“oh my, dear shouldn’t you focus on refining yourself a bit more?” you hear a woman say beside you.

you turn towards her, offended, “excuse me?”

“I mean,” her eyes scan you, disapprovingly, “you look average at best, and with that you won’t be able to find yourself a husband, let alone have children.”

you’re still processing her audacity as she continues, “but then again, it’s probably for the better that you don’t have children; you can barely take care of yourself.”

“can I help you?” your husband says as he approaches the woman.

she smiles condescendingly before chuckling, “I was simply telling this lady to take care of herself more; she hardly looks presentable.”

geto’s smiles tenses up as he is about to give the woman a calm peace of his mind, but his daughters beat him to it.

your older twin stands in front of the woman, scanning her with pure disgust in her eyes.

she grimaces and voices out her thoughts, “you are like a crunchy lizard.”

the woman gasps, “how dare you—!”

you cut off the woman, curious about your daughter’s conclusion, “why a crunchy lizard, sweetheart?”

your daughter looks at you with a small frown, shaking her head, “a crunchy lizard is an ugly sad lizard.”

a snort escapes your husband, and you’re barely able to contain your smile.

your other daughter follows up, looking at her twin sister, “the lady looks like that one green thingy we saw yesterday,” she taps her little foot, trying to remember and beams at the woman, “shrek! you look like shrek!”

then they both glare at her, frowning, “you’re a monkey!”

your husband doesn’t let it go as he deals the final—subtle—blow, “come on now girls; we shouldn’t bully the lady with the mcdonald’s like hairline anymore.”

it seems like the woman can’t take it anymore as she starts sobbing and running to the hills.

a moment of silence is shared across the four of you, before you carry both of your girls in your arms and start tickling them, “I don’t know whether to be proud of you or scold you, little evil girls!”

they squeal, trying to escape your hold and calling for their father.

geto chuckles and wraps his arms around the three of you, “let them have it for tonight, y/n,” he ruffles their hair, “they were brave and defended their mom, after all.”

“yeah, papa is right!”

“yes mama, please!”

you pout then smirk at geto, “well I don’t mind, and since papa is also very proud of you girls, he will buy any toy that you guys want today!”

the color drains from your husband’s face, and he watches motionlessly as his girls latch onto him, screaming about the toys they want.

you giggle at his expression and blow him a kiss. he reluctantly blows you one back, while the girls excitedly pull him towards the toy store.

NANAMI KENTO:

you and your husband were blessed with the sweetest girl as your daughter, and she was just recently joined by another sweet girl.

you can never forget the happiness on your daughter’s face when she saw her baby sister.

it also seems that no matter how many times you give birth, your husband can’t help but get emotional when he holds your baby. his hands are forever delicate as he cradles her to his chest.

you remember what he said during the birth of your first daughter.

“I feel like a piece of heaven has been plucked and placed in my arms.”

the way he always goes soft for the three of you is honestly adorable.

today, you were going on an outing with your—now 6 months old—baby and your older daughter who is almost six.

your husband never brags about his muscular form, but he never misses a chance to carry the baby or the baby supplies.

you have offered to at least carry the bag, but he always refuses, stating that ‘you already carried the baby for nine entire months in your belly; this is the least I can do.’

so yeah, sometimes you wish to smooch your husband till forever, but that’s not the point.

you’re walking hand in hand with your daughter as she sings her favorite song. you hear someone click their tongue, so you look to the side and lock eyes with an old lady. she takes the opportunity and approaches you.

“you should be ashamed of yourself!” she yells pointing at you, “your husband shouldn’t be carrying the baby supplies nor the baby itself for the matter,” she scowls, “that’s your job!”

“with all due respect ma’am, but that isn’t her job, and taking care of the baby should be something we are both responsible for.”

“yeah!” your daughter huffs, “and don’t take out your sad life on my mama!”

your eyes widen as you stare at your daughter.

on the other side, your husband is just as speechless. your daughter pays no one any mind as she continues, “mama works hard every day! you wouldn’t know that! you immature nugget!”

nanami frowns lightly, “d/n, that’s not nice—“

and for the cherry on top, your baby daughter throws the bottle cap she was playing with at the old lady, and frowns at her.

she starts babbling some nonsense that you're pretty sure are curse words in baby language.

having had enough, the old lady huffs, “the utter disrespect,” and starts walking away.

the rest of the spectators’ eyes follow her till she is out of sight. finally then, people start minding their own business, and you and your little family are left to the aftermath.

you giggle, “that was funny.”

“really?!” your daughter beams.

nanami cuts her off, “no,” he then looks at you with a small frown, a sigh escaping his lips, “y/n don’t encourage them—“

your baby daughter screams happily when she sees her sister smile. she starts kicking her feet with the biggest smile on her own face.

your older daughter starts laughing with her and tries to make her little sister laugh more—she was successful.

meanwhile, you chuckle, leaning on your husband’s shoulder, “admit it, kento; it was kind of funny.”

his resolve softens at the sound of laughter from all three of his girls, “okay, maybe a little, but—“

“yay!!”

ladies: 1

kento: 0

FUSHIGURO TOJI:

your husband and son are so alike, save for the part that your husband is a bit more shameless, and your son is more on the shy side.

however, they both have the same bluntness and the tendency to give anyone who they don’t like attitude.

for example, today, you were walking in the park with the both of them to unwind a bit.

not to mention that megumi wanted to walk his dogs which was a plus, since you would be able to watch your dear son play around with them.

it was all going great until you saw an old ‘friend’ who came running at the sight of you. he was someone who has always been way too touchy and in your personal bubble.

you have tried talking to him about it, but you’re confident that he does it to somehow force you into reciprocating the intimacy.

even if you’re a married woman with a freaking kid.

he giddily clasps your hand, “y/n, ‘been a long time!”

“h-hey,” you smile awkwardly.

he laughs, “I was passing by when I saw your figure, and I couldn’t help but come and say hi.”

you nod, “that’s great, but I am busy, so maybe later?—“

“you’ve gotten even prettier!” he exclaims, “I wish you would finally take me out on a—“

“can’t you see that she is uncomfortable?” your son retorts, “also, you should step back; you shouldn’t touch someone like this without asking them.”

megumi squeezes himself between the both you and glares at the man.

the guy was about to reply to your son, but toji pushes him back with ease, pulling you beside him and hand resting on your waist almost by instinct, “kid is right,” he tilts his head a bit, “ever been taught manners or do I have to do the teaching for you?”

the guy is taken back; offended, he snaps “you can’t speak to me like that!”

“and you can’t hold my mom’s hands like that, but here we are,” your son cleverly sasses him.

on the other hand, your—shameless—husband pulls you into one scandalous kiss and smirks at the guy when he pulls back, “and you can’t hit on a married woman, by the way.”

you hear your son gag in disgust at his dad’s actions, but you’re too busy burying your face in your husband’s chest, hoping that the guy disappears before toji makes even more of a bigger scene.

you also hope that the ground would swallow you, but that’s the alternative option.

the guy clutches his fist, before walking away, spewing insults at the sky—since he is too scared to cuss out your buff husband. once the man is out of sight, toji ruffles megumi’s hair, chuckling, “good job, kid.”

your shy bean’s cheeks redden slightly as he looks away, “…thanks.”

you’re still thinking about what just happened when you slap your husband’s chest, “toji, literally why?” you grumble, patting megumi who started holding onto your leg the moment you hugged toji.

“why not,” your husband shrugs with a small smile, taking pride in your flustered form.

“dad, I want ice cream.”

“no, you just want me to let go your mom, so you can hog her for yourself,” toji grumbles, staring down at megumi.

unfaltering, megumi looks up at him ,“dad, I want ice cream.”

“god damn it, listen here you—“

“divine dogs.”

RYOMEN SUKUNA:

there is no denying that both your son and your husband care for you very much, and they both—very aggressively—compete for your attention.

I am talking he literally throws the kid across the room kind of aggressive, and your son, in turn, throws whatever he has at him.

it’s eventful, but you would be lying if you said that it wasn’t one of the reasons why you will get grey hair earlier than everyone else.

so their very aggressive nature is also shown in their protectiveness over you.

a person doesn’t need to insult or even dare flirt with you for your devil duo to make their life a living hell; your husband and son don’t tolerate someone speaking to you if it causes you to ignore both of them.

for example, this one new servant was clueless to where the broom is, and unluckily for him, he saw you sitting with your husband and son in the gardens. he humbly approached you, “excuse me, m’lady.”

you turn to look at him with a smile, “yes?”

he clears throat, a bit flustered by the attention, “I—I wanted to ask where the—“

“up your ass, you disgusting fiend,” your son sneers followed by his father’s ever-permanent scowl.

“who gave you the permission to come and speak to her so casually?” sukuna presses, and the servant quickly falls to his knees.

“m-my apologies, my lord! I did not mean to disturb you!”

sukuna crosses his arms, “well, you did, and you also disturbed your queen and prince,” his eyes narrow at the servant, “what do you have to say for yourself?”

meanwhile, you’re watching all of that, mouth agape and trying to articulate anything to save the poor guy. you finally find your voice, “sukuna, it’s okay; he didn’t mean—“

your son hugs you tightly and glares at the servant, “to think he would so brazenly speak to you like you’re old friends is terrible, mother.”

you can almost see your son’s cursed energy flaring, and you can spot the small smirk on your husband’s face as he watches his son.

before it escalates any further and you find yet another dead corpse in your palace, you pick up your son, kissing his cheek which makes him flustered and causing him to bury his face in your neck.

you look at the servant, “you’re dismissed, and you can ask the head maid about anything you need, okay?”

“y-yes, m’lady!” he, however, stays glued to the ground, “may I have the permission to lift my head?”

sukuna grunts, “sure.”

“thank you, m’lord,” the servant says, before scurrying towards the gate, having secured his freedom after his little mistake.

or at least, that’s what he thought.

your husband slices his legs off with a flick of a finger, and your son, who has inherited his father’s technique, slices the head off.

and so the body falls to the ground, and the other servants hurriedly start cleaning up the mess.

you frown at your husband, “sukuna! he apologized!”

he rolls his eyes, and pulls you by the waist, “do I look like I care? he shouldn’t have interrupted our time together.”

“aww, you’re jealous!”

“no, I am not—“

“hands off, old man!”

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copyright © tender-rosiey

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

[incognit0slut]

was i stupid to love you?

in which a lingering glance at Rossi’s wedding threatens your engagement.

content: angst, 4.8k, takes place right after truth or dare (14x15), a lot of dialogue, mention of prison arc, emotional distress, relationship conflict, not proofread a/n: when was the last time you saw me write angst? exactly. this is inspired by malcolm & marie bc i really like the idea of having an argument while moving around the house (also disclaimer i have nothing against JJ i just like being dramatic)

The lock clicks open. The door swings with a creak. Your heels tap against the hardwood in a hollow rhythm that feels almost too loud. There’s a tightness in your chest, that prickling behind your eyes, and a familiar ache pressing up from the pit of your stomach, churning into a faint nausea that you try to ignore. You’re trying to hold it back.

Not here.

Not now.

Spencer doesn’t even look up. The keys slip from his hand with a soft clink as they hit the side table, and he turns away with a quiet sigh that reverberates deep in your bones.

“Are you hungry?” he asks, tossing a glance toward the kitchen. “Think we could order something?”

You trail after him, the sharp click of your heels echoing as you step onto the kitchen tile. “We just came back from a wedding.”

He’s rifling through the cupboard, his fingers brushing over the mismatched mugs and neatly stacked plates before he pulls down two glasses. “I barely ate anything at the reception.”

You watch him, biting back a response as memories flicker to mind. The slice of cake he’d poked at absentmindedly, washing it down with sips of water instead of real food.

It wasn’t hunger he seemed focused on tonight. No, it was his quiet glances across the room you keep on catching from the corner of your eye, and that conversation he’d had at the bar. The one where his posture softened, his gaze so intent you’d found yourself staring at the back of his head, trying not to read too much into it—and obviously failing.

“Why didn’t you eat?”

He shrugs, his back still to you as he fills the glasses with water. “I don’t know,” he says, sounding almost absent, like it’s something he hasn’t really thought about. “I didn’t get around to it, I guess.”

The muscles in your jaw ticks as you bite the inside of your cheeks.

Spencer turns, offering you a glass. “I was thinking of Chinese, or maybe we can check if that Thai place you like is still open.”

You take the glass from him, barely sparing it a glance before setting it back down on the counter. “Whatever you want is fine.”

A subtle crease appears between his brows. “You sure? You usually have some opinion when it comes to food.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“You don’t want to eat anything?”

You suppress a sigh. "No. I'm tired."

The soft amber of his eyes dims slightly as he studies you. There's a flicker of uncertainty passing through them before he nods. “Alright,” he concedes. “We don’t have to order anything.”

A faint, humorless laugh escapes you before you can stop it. It tastes bitter, a little unfair, but it slips out before you can pull it back, “You don’t have to change your plans on my account, Spencer.”

“I’m not changing any plans,” he responds. “I’m just making sure you have something to eat in case you’re hungry.”

Your shoes dig uncomfortably into your feet. You shift your weight, starting to pace a few steps back and forth. "It's dinner, you don't have to check on me for every little thing. Do whatever you like."

He blinks, looking genuinely perplexed. "What are you saying? I was trying to be considerate."

"Right. Considerate.”

There’s an unmistakable bite in your tone.

“Yes, because we like doing these things together," he observes, watching your uneasy pacing. "Am I missing something here?”

You shake your head. “Nope.”

"Honey."

The term of endearment lands softly, slipping from his lips like he believes it has the power to melt whatever tension has suddenly crept between you. But it only tightens the knot building in your stomach. It’s stirring the words you’re trying to hold back, tangling them somewhere between your chest and throat.

He calls your name this time, his eyes narrowing into sharp lines. “You’ve been awfully quiet on our way home, and now you’re… honestly, I don’t know why you're acting this way.” His voice dips with a tinge of exasperation. "What’s this really about?"

The words you’ve been biting back feel like a stack of stones in your throat, rising up, up, up, each one pressed tighter by the gnawing nausea in your stomach. You can feel them gathering, and before you know it, they tumble out messily.

“I’m just saying, don’t let me hold you back from getting what you want. I wouldn���t want to stop you from anything—or, god forbid," you add, letting your gaze drift away as if a little distance might soften the blow, “anyone.”

The soft, almost stifled inhale he takes is audible. You don’t even have to look up to see his expression shifting. You’ve known him long enough to recognize the way his shoulders tense, the way his breathing slows as he processes your words. You know his reaction by heart, yet right now, you wonder if saying this was a mistake, if this is the start of something neither of you can take back.

His fingers twitching at his side slip into your line of sight. He's angry.

Maybe this isn’t the time to start a fight.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Your heels click softly as you turn.

“Forget it. I shouldn't have said anything,” you mutter, already moving toward the bedroom that’s been yours, too, for the past year. Although it feels strange tonight, like a space that belongs to someone else. A life you’re not entirely sure you belong in.

“No." His voice is somewhere behind you. “I think you should explain to me what you mean by that.”

You don’t respond, choosing instead to sink onto the edge of the bed, hands fumbling as you try to undo the straps of your heels. You twist the stubborn leather with more force. His shadow fills the doorway.

“Honey.”

Not again.

You decide to ignore him.

“Is there something you’d like to say to me?”

You tug harder at the strap. “No.”

He doesn’t buy it. “You’re clearly bothered by something.”

You shake your head, fingers still fumbling, the leather cutting against your ankle with each pull. “I’m just tired. Can we leave it at that?”

There’s a flicker of frustration in his gaze now, a crease forming between his brows as he studies you. He moves into the room. You barely have the chance to react before he lowers himself, bending one knee to the floor as he reaches toward the strap you’ve been fighting with. “Here, let me—”

“Don’t,” you interrupt, pulling your foot away. “I can do it myself.”

“I know you can. But let me—”

“I can do it myself!”

Your heartbeat thuds loud in your ears, each pulse feeding the frustration that’s wound its way up from your chest. He rises slowly, not a word passing his lips, but the tension radiates off him like heat. He’s close enough that his warmth presses against your skin, although it’s not the kind you usually find comforting. It’s almost suffocating.

You turn your focus back to the stubborn strap, your fingers trembling slightly as you struggle to grip it. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch him slipping off his shoes, one after the other, the soft thuds barely audible over the rush of your own heartbeat. He pulls off his suit jacket, carefully smoothing the crumpled fabric before hanging it in the closet. For a moment, it seems like he’s going to let it go… until his gaze drifts back to you.

You can tell his patience is fraying, and you’re proven right when he asks again, “What did you mean by that? When you said you wouldn’t want to stop me from anyone… what was that supposed to mean?”

You finally manage to tug the strap loose. The heel drops to the floor with a muted thump. “It was nothing.”

“I don’t think you’d say something like that if it was nothing.”

Your focus shifts to the other shoe. “Just drop it, Spencer.”

"How am I supposed to drop it when you're implying... whatever it is you're implying?"

You keep your eyes down, wrestling with the strap in silence. He cuts through the quiet before it has a chance to grow.

“Don’t do that,” he says. “Don’t brush it off like it’s nothing when it clearly means something. I need to know why you said that.”

You kick off the other heel and meet his gaze for the first time since you walked into the room. “You really want to know?”

He reaches for his bow tie, yanking it loose it with one hard pull. “Do I want to know why you’re giving me this attitude right now? Yes. Yes, I do.”

Oh. So this is going to be that kind of fight.

You hadn’t expected it to go here. Fights with Spencer are very rare, usually more a clash of misunderstandings that you both laugh about with limbs tangled between sheets by the time you’ve made peace. But seeing him standing there with the tie hanging loosely around his neck and his five o’clock shadow casting an even darker line along his jaw, it hits you differently.

This is real. And this time, you don’t know if brushing it off will fix anything.

“Fine, let’s talk about it then.” You rise from the bed, tension carrying you to your feet. “Emily’s speech tonight.”

His brow furrows, not quite a scowl, more a cautious crease as he processes your tone. “Emily’s speech? What about it?”

“What do you remember of it?”

There’s a slight pause, and you can tell he's clearly caught off guard by the question. “She mentioned how Rossi and Krystal are twin flames."

“Right. Two souls that are always meant to be together.”

His face is still marked by confusion, but there’s something else creeping in. A subtle tightening around his eyes tells you he’s starting to piece it together. “I don’t understand what that has to do with—”

“You looked at JJ the second Emily made that speech,” you cut him off. “Spencer, you didn’t even spare a glance at your future wife because you were too busy making eyes at the woman who’s apparently been in love with you all these years.”

There. You said it. The words that have twisted around your insides all evening are finally out. And maybe they taste a little bitter, but at least they're not choking you anymore.

A second passes, then another, and by the time the fifth heartbeat ticks by, he’s standing there with his hand on his hip.

“That’s not what happened."

“Then what was it?” you demand. "I sat beside you the whole day, you didn't even try to hide it."

“That’s not—you’re twisting things.” His hand moves through his hair, fingers digging in as his curls tumble forward onto his forehead. “And you know what happened that night wasn’t real. It was a forced confession. She was under duress, we both were. JJ and I are just friends.”

You arch an eyebrow. “You look at all your friends like that?”

His hand drops to his side. "I don't know what else you want me to say. JJ said what she did because she thought we might die. She has a family, and a husband who she loves. We already went through this, I don't understand why this is suddenly an issue again."

“Maybe I wouldn’t be bringing this up if you didn’t look at her tonight like you were ready to break up that marriage yourself.”

A flash of shock and anger crosses his features.

“That’s not fair,” he snaps, his voice sharper than you’ve heard in a while. “Do you really think I’d disregard everything I have with you because of a look? Because of a history that has never gone anywhere?”

“I don’t know what to think. It's not like it happened just once, I saw you looking at her the same way at the bar." You step forward, accidentally kicking your discarded heel as you move. "What were you two talking about, anyway?”

He lets out a tight breath. “She was checking in on me. She… we haven’t talked much since then.”

The corners of your mouth pull down. “Mhm. Another round of truth or dare?”

“I can’t believe you’re using that against me." His hair flops forward as he shakes his head, falling messily over his brow. "If there were anything unresolved with JJ, I would’ve said something. But I didn’t, because there’s nothing there."

“And yet, she’s always been an important part of your life, hasn't she?"

He tilts his head. "What are trying to say now?"

Your tongue darts out, briefly brushing your lips. You're not sure you should say it, but it feels like a door has swung open—a door to words that have been waiting for their moment.

You take a slow, deep breath, filling your lungs with as much air as you can.

“When you were in prison, you put her on your visiting list ahead of almost everyone else. Doesn’t that say something about where she stands with you?”

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand over the back of his neck.

“She’s part of the team,” he says, as if he’s trying to spell out something he’s already explained a dozen times. "There were strict rules, I already told you that only a handful of people were allowed to visit. It wasn’t like I could just put anyone on the list.”

“But you could’ve put me on there!”

The familiar burn of tears prickles at the edges of your eyes, but you blink them back, refusing to let them fall. An explanation or protest is poised on his lips, but you’re already moving, closing the distance with a single, decisive step. A finger lands on his chest.

“I was your girlfriend, Spencer. Were you that determined to keep me out? Was the thought of seeing me really so unbearable? Do you even understand how hard it was to sit at home, knowing you were locked up, feeling completely helpless? Do you have any idea how much I hated myself day after day because I couldn’t do anything to help you?”

Your lips quiver. You feel like your heart is about to leap out of your throat.

“I was out here, just… waiting. Wondering if you were okay, if they were treating you alright, if you even had someone to talk to. And meanwhile, she’s there, with you. Every single time, she’s the one who gets to be by your side.”

Your nail digs into the fabric of his shirt.

“So forgive me if I can’t just let that go. Because when it mattered, it felt like you didn’t want me to be there for you. And now… now I don’t even know if you need me the way you seem to need her.”

Your breathing turns shallow, each inhale catching in your chest. The tears you’ve been holding back are dangerously blurring your vision. You swallow the knot lodged in your throat.

“I need a minute.”

Without another word, you turn and walk out of the room, leaving him standing there in stunned silence. You slip back into the kitchen, leaning against the counter as you finally reach for the glass of water that’s been sitting there untouched. You take a sip, barely feeling the cool water on your lips, when you hear his footsteps behind you.

“You think I don’t want you in my life?” he demands. “You think I somehow need her more than I need you?”

You set the glass down. “What part of ‘I need a minute’ do you not understand?”

“You really expect me to wait quietly after you unloaded every doubt you’ve ever had about us?”

You life your chin up. “Yes, I do. I need space to think right now.”

“What more do you want to think about when you’ve already convinced yourself that I’m always going to fall short? Is it so hard to believe that you’re the one I want?”

“You want to know why it’s so damn hard to believe?” You turn towards him. “Because every time I try to let this go, there’s always something. A confession. That—that not-so-subtle look. And when those things happen, it reminds me that I’m not as close to you as she is. I’m fucking tired of feeling like I’m fighting for space in your life.”

“Do you think I want you to feel like that? Do you think I’d go through everything we’ve been through if you didn’t matter to me?”

“Then explain to me why I wasn’t on that list!” you cry out. “Explain to me why, in one of the hardest times of your life, you couldn’t make space for me?”

“Because I was trying to protect you!”

A heavy, dreadful silence falls between you. He takes a step back, his eyelids fluttering shut briefly, and when he opens them again, there’s a softness in his gaze that mirrors the gentleness now threading through his voice.

“I know it probably doesn’t make sense to you, and maybe it never will, but I couldn’t stand the idea of you seeing me like that. Living through it was hard enough, but having you there, seeing me so helpless… It would have crushed me. I didn’t want that to be your memory of me.”

His Adam’s apple dips as he swallows, a quick, almost anxious movement you’ve witnessed countless times.

“And when JJ came to see me,” he continues, “the way the inmates looked at her, the things they said after she left… it was disgusting. I couldn’t—wouldn’t—let that happen to you. I couldn’t live with thought of you being subjected to that because of me.”

You lower your head with a sigh. “I don’t care if they looked. I don’t care what they would’ve thought.”

“But I care,” he fires back, taking a step forward. “Because you mean more to me than anyone. All I wanted was to keep you safe, and maybe I didn't handle it right, maybe I made the wrong call... but it was only because I—" His voice drops into an even more gentle note. "Because I love you."

Your heart stumbles, an uneven beat that feels almost bruised, pounding hard against your ribs.

"I-I love you so much. More than I know how to put into words." The ache in your chest sharpens as his hands come up to cup your cheeks. "I don't like fighting with you. I hate it, actually. I hate seeing you look at me like this."

You also hate the way he’s looking at you. There’s a depth to his annoyingly pretty eyes that makes it impossible to hold up your defenses without feeling them crumble. You let your eyes flutter closed.

“Why don’t we… call it a night?” He suggests. “Let’s lie down. We don’t have to talk about this now.”

The blackness behind your eyelids does little to quiet your mind. Nor does his voice. Or his touch. Instead of offering peace, his presence throws every glance, every moment of tension from tonight into sharper relief.

You draw in a breath, trying to find some comfort in his palms against your cheeks. Yet, even this can’t smooth away the doubt that’s settled in. With a resigned sigh, you release the breath you’ve been holding along with the words that have been pressing at the back of your throat.

“You haven’t explained it to me.”

The shadows in his gaze seem to deepen when you open your eyes.

“What do you mean?”

“We’ve been going in circles, but you haven’t explained to me what happened tonight,” you say quietly. “Why did you look at her, Spencer?”

His thumb absently strokes your cheek in a way that feels more hesitant than reassuring.

“Be honest with me,” you press. “Was there a part of you, even the tiniest part, that still wanted something with her? Some small part of you that… wondered what it might be like?”

The silence between you presses in from all sides, broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator and the distant, muffled ticking of a clock on the wall. It’s the kind of quiet that sharpens even the smallest sounds, yet his lack of response feels like the loudest thing of all.

You pull back from him with an incredulous laugh.

“Unbelievable.” The word barely makes it past your lips, then louder as you start to move, pacing the length of the apartment. “Unbelievable.”

“Wait,” he says, trailing after you, “I didn’t even say anything.”

You stop short by the couch and whip around to face him.

“You didn’t need to! You—you hesitated," you stammer, searching his face for any flicker of denial, but it’s there, plain as day, that split-second of doubt you caught. “That was already an answer.”

He inches closer. A hand closes in on you. “Please—”

You flinch, pulling back, and every muscle in your body tightens. “Don’t. Don’t touch me right now.”

His hand falls to his side. “Please… let me explain."

You watch his hand drop, fingers twitching like they’re not sure if they should retreat or reach out again, but he keeps them there, hovering in some invisible line you’ve drawn. He looks at you with those big, pleading eyes, and for a split second, you almost feel bad for him.

Almost.

A bitter sort of smile tugs at the corner of your mouth. "So now you want to explain?"

He takes that as permission, and his voice comes in low, almost cautious. "When I first started at the BAU, I had… maybe a crush. A passing thing, barely anything, really. But that was fourteen years ago.” His hand scrubs through his hair in a frustrated sweep. “Fourteen years."

Your brows pull into a frown. “Why am I only hearing about this now?”

“Because it was nothing,” he says, almost too quickly. “I was young, it didn’t matter. I didn’t think it was worth bringing up.”

“Oh, I get it now. All those old feelings came rushing back the night she confessed, didn’t they?”

He mirrors your frown, a visible line of tension etching itself between his brows as he protests, “It’s nothing like that.”

“Then what is it?” you press. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a whole lot like you’re caught between us because some part of you is still hung up on what might’ve been with her."

He shifts uncomfortably, and you notice the muscles in his jaw clenching the moment his gaze falters, dipping away for just a heartbeat before he looks back at you.

“It’s not that I don’t know what I want,” he starts to explain. “I didn’t expect her to say those things, and, yes, it threw me off for a moment. But that doesn’t mean I’m looking back, or that I want her. I want you.”

You shake your head, feeling a tired sort of frustration settle over you, and walk over to the couch. The soft cushions give slightly beneath you as you sink down.

“If you really wanted me, this wouldn’t be happening. You wouldn’t have let her get into your head like that. And now, you expect to believe that none of it meant anything?”

He’s quick to follow, closing the distance in a few tense steps. “It’s not—” His hands flex open and close at his sides. “You’re acting like one single look tonight is enough to decide I’m not committed to you. Do you really think I’d let some confession I didn’t even ask for get in the way of what we have?”

“It’s not just about that single look. It’s the way she could say something and suddenly, you’re pulled back to something you swore you’d put behind you. How am I supposed to feel secure when she still has that power over you?”

“And what am I supposed to do, then? Apologize for things I don’t even feel anymore?”

You flinch at the sharpness in his voice. A low, frustrated noise rumbles in his chest when you don’t respond.

“You’re always going to question me no matter what I say, aren’t you?"

You glance over at him, catching the disheveled strands of hair falling over his forehead, and it pulls you back to that night he came home after that dreadful night. He’d walked in looking worn in a way you’d never seen before, his whole posture weighted down as if he was carrying more than just the fear of being held hostage.

You remember sitting with him on this same couch, fingers brushing his, and asking what was bothering him.

JJ said she loved me.

Your heart lurched, a quick, quiet ache that you tried to swallow down. Really?

Don’t worry. It’s not true.

But with that same haunted look in his eyes right now, you can’t help but wonder if it really was just a well-intentioned lie.

“One glance and you’re accusing me of things that are never going to happen,” he starts again. “Do you really think so little of me? After everything we’ve shared, you really think I’d betray you like that?”

In true honesty, you don’t believe he would ever cross that line. But the doubts still linger, fed by those small hesitations, the moments when his eyes seem somewhere else. It’s not that you think he’d betray you. It’s that a part of him might still be holding onto something he won’t let you see.

“It’s like you don’t know me at all.”

Now those words you might actually believe.

“Maybe I don’t,” you say quietly, eyes drifting to the ring on your finger. You twist it absently, remembering the night he proposed. How he’d stumbled over his words, his cheeks flushing as he tried to make the moment perfect but ended up rambling in that endearing, nervous way of his. You’d laughed, reassured him that it was exactly right, that you didn’t need grand gestures. All you needed was him.

And yet, you don’t think he needs you as much you need him.

A hollow ache settles around your hand as you slip the ring off.

“What are you doing?”

You stare down at the gold band in your palm, blinking back the sting of tears.

“Tell me what you’re doing.”

Panic. Desperation. There’s a sudden rush of melancholy in his voice, a heaviness that wasn’t there a moment ago.

You swallow the lump in your throat. “I don’t know,” you whisper. “I—I don’t know anything right now.”

His face crumples, and in a sudden, almost instinctive movement, he drops down to his knees.

“No, no, you do know me. I’m sorry… I’m so sorry. Isn’t this—” he stops, then dips his head, trying to catch your gaze. “Isn’t that what couples do? They argue, they mess things up… but they work through it, right? Right?”

You look down, feeling the cool weight of the ring pressing into your skin.

“Spencer…” you begin. “I trust you. I do, and I’m sorry if I made it seem like I didn’t. But… I need to feel secure. I… I need to know that I don’t have to wonder or worry about where I stand. I never thought you’d be the one to make me doubt that.”

There’s a sharp ache in your chest.

“I didn’t think it could hurt this much. Not from you.”

Your pulse ring in your ear.

“I can’t—” The words catch in your throat, a stinging burn rising as you force them out. “I can’t be your wife when I’m constantly questioning if I have all of you. When I feel like… there’s always a part of you that isn’t mine.”

“I’m yours, honey. I’m always yours.”

“I wish I could believe that.”

There’s a slight falter in his voice. “Don’t—please don’t do this—”

“I can’t keep pretending it doesn’t hurt.”

He falls silent, and for a moment, the only sound is the rough, uneven rhythm of both your breaths filling the space between you. Then, like something inside him finally cracks open, he sinks down, pressing his forehead against your lap. The sudden weight of him forces a broken sob from your throat.

“Please,” he begs, fingers clutching at your sides. His chin presses deep into your thigh. “Tell me how to fix this. I can’t— I can’t lose you.”

“Spence…”

“I love you,” he blurts out, the words tumbling from him in a rush. “I love you.”

But what is love, really? Is it just a word people reach for when they’ve run out of things to say, a way to patch over bruised hearts and broken promises? Or should it feel like something more solid, something that doesn’t leave you questioning or aching? You can’t even tell anymore.

You wonder, too, if maybe you’ve been wrong all along. If this feeling in your chest isn’t love but something dressed up as it, something that fills the gaps while slowly hollowing you out. Because here you are, clinging to a love that somehow makes you feel like you’re both needed and unseen. Everything and nothing all at once.

You feel like a fool.

“I want to go to bed.”

His head lifts from your lap, a flash of surprise darting across his face, as though he hadn’t expected you to say anything at all, let alone that. “Yeah, okay, let’s go to bed. We’ll… we’ll figure this out in the morning.”

“I’d rather be alone.”

The words hit him visibly. His mouth opens, an argument forming there, but he catches himself, letting the silence stretch before he nods slowly.

“Then… I’ll stay out here. On the couch,” he offers softly. “Just… in case you need anything.”

A pang cuts through you at the thought of him stretched out on the couch, his legs too long, his shoulders folded in to fit the cramped space. But the idea of sharing a bed right now feels impossible.

You reach down, holding out the ring towards him.

“No,” he says firmly, gently pushing your hand away. “Don’t do that. This… it doesn’t mean we’re giving up. It just means we need time. That’s all.”

You’re not sure if your mind will change in the morning. The ring presses into your skin, but finally, you close your hand around it, nodding faintly before you peel away from him.

The tears start the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you. It spills over in a jagged, helpless cry that sounds nothing like you imagined heartbreak might sound. It’s messy, a kind of aching grief that feels too big for your chest, clawing its way out with no grace at all. You can practically hear how pathetic you sound, and yet you can’t seem to stop.

Even when the hem of your dress trails across the floor. Even when you finally collapse onto his side of the bed. There’s no stopping you. With the ring sitting cold in your hand, your tears keep coming, soaking into the pillow as you cling to the last trace of him woven into the sheets.

[rafeysbangs]

ꪆৎ𓏲 ๋࣭  ࣪ ˖↷ ex!bf!rafe sneaks into your room late at night...

warnings ; MDNI !!, ex!bf!rafe, soft!rafe i guess, oral f. receiving, fingering, unprotected sex, p in v, rafe calls reader baby, creampie, aftercare ! yippee

notes ; phew... enjoyyy !

the cool night air swept through your open balcony door, carrying the distant hum of cicadas. you were curled up in bed, trying to focus on the book in your hands, when the faint scrape of shoes against metal made your heart leap.

"rafe?" you whispered harshly, your pulse quickening as his familiar frame hauled itself over the edge of the balcony.

"don’t freak out," he said quickly, holding his hands up as if to calm you. his hair was a mess, his eyes wild, and he looked more desperate than you’d ever seen him.

"are you insane? you can’t be here, especially not at this hour," you hissed, glancing nervously at your door.

but rafe wasn’t listening. he crossed the room in two long strides, his voice cracking as he said, "i had to see you. i can’t- i can’t do this without you."

you folded your arms, trying to stand your ground, even as your chest tightened at the raw edge in his tone. "we broke up, rafe. i broke up with you. and you know why. i can’t keep pretending it doesn’t kill me every time i see you flirting with someone else."

"i wasn’t-" he started, but you cut him off with a sharp look.

"don’t lie to me. i saw you. over and over again. it’s too much, rafe. i couldn’t do it anymore."

his hands raked through his hair, his frustration evident. "it wasn’t what you thought, i swear. i’m... i’m a mess without you, okay? i’ve been losing my mind since you left. no one else matters- no one but you. i’m obsessed with you, and i’ll prove it. i’ll do whatever it takes to make it right."

"rafe," you began, your voice softer now, but he stepped closer, his hands gripping yours like his life depended on it.

"it’ll never happen again. i swear on everything. just... just give me one more chance," he pleaded, his blue eyes locking onto yours, filled with a vulnerability that made your heart ache.

you tried to resist, tried to remind yourself why you ended things, but the way he looked at you, like you were his entire world, made it nearly impossible.

"i don’t know if i can trust you," you said quietly, your voice trembling.

"you can," he said, his voice steady. "i’ll spend the rest of my life proving it to you if i have to."

before you could argue further, his lips were on yours, cutting off your words in a kiss so desperate, so full of longing, that it left you breathless. your resolve crumbled as his hands cupped your face, pulling you closer.

the kiss deepened, his lips trailing to your jaw and down your neck as your back hit the bed. he hovered over you, his breath hot against your skin as he murmured your name like a prayer.

your fingers tangled in his hair as his lips travelled down your body, heat pooled in your lower stomach watching him grow closer to the waistband of your tiny pyjama shorts.

he stopped there, slowly littering kisses as he looked up at you, you chewed at your bottom lip as your eyes were stuck on his, "rafe..."

"i'll make you feel good baby... don't worry" he whispered against your skin, sending shivers up your spine. his course fingers connected with your clothed pussy, slowly rubbing circles to make you squirm.

he grinned when he saw you twitch at his touch, your clit aching from the lack of direct contact. as if he could read your body, he pulled your shorts to the side, now faced with soaked panties staring back at him.

rafe sighed gratefully, "you're so soaked already, god you're perfect" he mumbled. his long fingers traced your slit and he chuckled a little to himself before pulling your panties to the side too.

without warning, his mouth connected with your wet cunt, sloppy kisses and flicks of his tongue made your eyes roll back before he slid a finger through your folds again. he tapped at your aching hole before sliding a finger in, watching your face contort as you got used to the welcome intrusion.

you groaned, "god-" rafe's smirk perking up against your heat, he came up for air for a second, "rafe's fine baby.."

you threw your head back as he licked a stripe down your pussy, grinning as he slid another finger inside, curling them before mercilessly pumping them in and out.

one thing leads to another, you're bent over the bed, rafe's cock bulging out of your stomach as his hips snap against your ass. a loud whine escapes your lips as he's rearranging your guts. your tight walls clamping desperately around his cock as your ass bounces with every thrust.

his tip brushes your cervix as he thrusts into you a few more times before pulling out and flipping you over mumbling, "need to see your pretty face.."

he shoves your body further onto the bed before climbing over you with his classic smirk. your breathing ragged as your eyes locked with his, he tapped his cock on your pussy before dragging it through your folds. he knew the teasing drove you crazy, your eyebrows cinched together as his ego grew.

a pornographic moan escaped your lips as he slid in again, rolling his hips against yours he pumped his cock at a heavenly pace. your nails left crescent shaped indents as you gripped on rafe's arms, the pleasure sending the both of you into overdrive.

rafe cursed as his thrusts grew sloppy, the way your gummy walls were squeezing him made him dizzy, his release creeping up on him. you too could feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach, unsurprised at the discovery that rafe was the only one to be able to make you cum, even when you're technically broken up.

he lifts a hand and connects it with one of your tits, his tongue darting between his lips as he massaged the fat, your nipple between his fingers. you whimpered as his cock kissed your cervix before finally you felt the coil snap, your orgasm overpowering you.

the way your pussy clenched rafe's cock as you finished around him caused him to groan gutturally, spilling his release into your sopping hole. he collapsed on top of you, littering your neck and cheeks with kisses as he heavily breathed.

"fuck.. i love you baby" he said finally before getting up and slowly pulling out, his release leaking from you a little. he grinned at the sight and pumped to fingers into your pussy, pushing his cum back inside you. "i'll get us a wet towel" he mumbled, walking towards your bathroom after kissing you on the forehead.

taglist ; @rafegetinmybed @doeletteprincess ( feel free to ask to be added! idm! )

[screampied]

ok hear me out toji is always rough and somehow mean when you fuck, but something happens to you (you can decide what) and he turns really soft and gentle for one night. just one.

❤︎ ໋𓈒 toji being soft with you for once

warnings. fem! reader, soft dom toji, praise, missionary, talking you through it, mdni.

being in bed with toji, he’s usually almost always rough and degrading. it’s something he’s mostly used to, however there’d be a specific time where he’d have to change things up . . . just for you.

he’d notice something’s wrong the minute he’s about to align himself again. you’re awfully quiet underneath him as you awaited and he’s well aware of how you keep avoiding his stoic gaze. “hm,” he’d ponder aloud with a mere natural pout. toji grabs ahold of your chin before softly stroking it with his thumb, making you stare right into his green curious irises. “something’s wrong. talk to me, babygirl.”

“nothing’s wrong, you can finish—”

“something’s wrong,” he repeats, his voice is a bit more stern yet it’s still gentle. he slows down and brings a thumb towards your cheek to lightly stroke it. “you’re avoiding eye contact,” he points out, still inside you yet he brings his hips to an abrupt pause. toji’s panting yet he takes a moment to breathe. “you can talk to me, y’know.”

you briefly meet his dark pupils before letting off a low exhale. “i . . had a bad day,” and then as he’s hovering over your body, you slowly drag out your final breathy words in a sheepish, “can you—can you hold my hand?”

“aw,” he teases, grabbing your hand before intertwining his thick stubby fingers with yours. his touch was so safe, so warm, so gentle. his thumb strokes against the back of your hand before he holds onto your hip with another. “want a head pat too, sweetheart?”

“s-shut up,” you moan, feeling the tip of his dick prof against your entrance. he wasn’t exactly moving but you still felt him. your ankle runs against toji’s back and he’s so close to you that you could smell the strong aroma of alcohol and mint linger on his breath. toji’s now softened gaze never leaves you and his kittenish eyes ease up soothingly. “just go slow ‘n hold my hand, toji.”

“so sensitive today,” he purrs, leaning to kiss the top of your forehead. it was something about his voice—the way he spoke to you currently, it was just so smooth. his eyes that were known to always be cruel and intimidating palliate just at the sight of you— the sight of his pretty girl underneath him, asking for a simple request to hold her hand. “. . mwah,” and the moment his lips brush against your skin, you let off a soft whine. “i’ll go niiice ‘n slow for you, yeah.”

once he finally picks up his pace again, he’s so gentle with you. the grip on your hand tightens a bit and you moan.

you’re always used to toji being so rough in bed, manhandling you and all—alas, you never exactly minded of course, but a change of pace like this was strikingly nice.

his stumpy fingers strum against yours before you feel his hips gradually move again. “t-toooji,” you whine out, watching as he kisses near your neck. so benign, so tender. toji was always familiar with every inch of your body. he knew the layout of your body as if it was an apartment. he always knew where to go, your weakest and most sensitive spots— forever engraved into his mind. with your eyes starting to roll back, you squeal out a shaky, “i l-love you.”

“cock drunk already?” he fake pouts, a smile curling against his lips before he slowly starts to thrust into you. the moans that left your mouth were incredibly melodic, a mere harmony he was listening to. toji couldn’t help but grin at your sweet words of whimpers of how much you loved him, losing yourself completely on his cock. “but i love you more, princess,” and he feels your ankle scrape further down his tense back muscles. a rigorous surge of wind forcefully plucks from your lungs and you struggle to suppress your own whines. so good, so thick. toji squeezes your hand tightly, giving your forehead another chaste kiss. “how’s it feel? ‘s slow enough for you, baby?”

“good, y—yes, ‘toj,” you whimper, both hands throwing around his broad neck, over his high rising shoulders. he was merely nude, only wearing a white tee to follow. the chain that was wrapped around his neck dangles against your face every so often and you mewl out a sweet desperate sob for more. “touch me more toji, p-please. touch me.”

he snickers. “oh. am i not touchin’ you?”

you pout and he’s enjoying your brief irritation. whenever you were getting frustrated—you always had such cute expressions, especially when your lip frowns up or your eyebrows twitch to show your sheer vex. with a sigh, you grumble, “kiss me, toji. i want a kiss.”

“you . . want a kiss?” he softly coos, his voice was as smooth as silk. so sweet, deliciously candied with each word he pronounces at you. the rasp underneath his tone only made you throb for an even longer time. with an eyebrow raise, toji accelerates his hips before he feels your gummy walls stretch out perfectly. you were so good for him, so fucking good. his cock rummages inside of you to where your eyes were merely reaching the sockets. until all you saw was nothing but black, an entire void of straight nothingness. as your eyes remain stuck back into the very depths of your cranium, he’s always loved looking at your dramatic expressions—especially whenever he was on top of you. “say please. ‘m bein’ soft for right now but don’t forget those manners i taught ya, sweetheart.”

you sigh again and he slyly smiles at your sheer frustration.

“. . pleaseee,” you whine out, dragging your nails down his back. by now, you were sure his back was coated with a few marks from your pointed fingertips. the way your bottom lip pokes out once you pout yet again was so adorable. “kiss me toji, please.”

“anything for the pretty girl,” he murmurs in a soft voice, bringing a rough hand to cup the right side of your face. his pace was just so tantalizingly slow, emitting out all types of whiney moans from your lips. toji leans in and the moment his lips press against yours, you whimper. he’s stuffing you full of inches in the meantime — feeling the way your walls adjust and constrict around him. as both lips are moving in rhythmic tavern, you legs squeeze around his slim jerking waist.

toji’s always been fond of your taste, so glacé. his tongue runs against your bottom lip, tasting your sweet lip gloss before he grunts into your mouth.

thick heavy balls slowly pound into you and his pace was so salaciously relentless that it welts out all kinds of squelches directly from your cunt.

“f-fuuck,” he groans, each pivot he creates only grows more rapid and sloppy. he’s so thorough, the angle makes you whimper into his mouth before you compress around his length tighter. he’s so close up to you, the warmth of his body colliding up against yours makes you throb more. toji’s speaking in between kisses — a string of spit departs each time he leaves, swiping his tongue against your lip before after about a nth amount of kisses later, he finally breaks away. “aw. did i love you too hard, princess? you look a little out of breath.”

“s—shut up,” you moan, clinging onto his back even tighter. he was right though, your lungs were strained and you were panting heavily, heaving. the wind gets yanked out of your throat before you slump back against the bed. “gonna c-cum, toji. gonna cum,” and then you meet his softly coy gaze— he returns the eye contact before you see a bit of tenderness in his dark irises. “please, please let me cum, ‘toj. pleaseee.”

the smile against toji’s lips further— you’re so cute, the way you were chasing your current orgasm. it felt like a wave, an abrupt wave that was about to collide. your cunt holds him hostage before he leans in to kiss the bridge of your nose.

“mwahhh,” he purrs softly, deepening his hits against you before your thighs end up aching underneath near the very undersides. he’s so deep that your jaw dangles open. hot breathy puffs of air leave past your lips before he strokes your cheek. “give it to me, baby. c’mon, i got you.”

as he’s talking in such a smoothly polished tone, his words send a plethora of butterflies inside of your stomach.

toji stares at you in such a lovingly way— it last for at least six seconds, he looks like he’s about to say something even further before he stops himself. “aw. don’t space out on me now, gorgeous,” and he strokes your cheek. “squeeze my hand, girl.”

“hngh c-cumming,” you whimper, feeling your stomach seize a few times before you finally climax. it comes at such a speed that you’re taken aback. your own clammy hand grips against his whilst a thumb strokes against his knuckles before he smiles. you’re shaking, convulsing and his cock’s still buried into you from the very hilt. toji leans in, his broad chest pressing against yours before he licks near your neck. you moan, feeling your collarbone start to dampen up from his wet tongue— toji chuckles, watching you spasm out on his length before he stops his hips again. “f-fuck.”

“. . . so cute,” he susurrates, and his deep raspy voice was a mere whisper. he spoke in a hushed tone, staring deeply into your eyes before picking up your hand to kiss it. “do you feel a little better?”

“a— a little,” you inhale a sharp breath, his weight just idly hovering over your hot-tempered body. everything felt so good, it was a reoccurring ring in your ears that always came whenever you were tweaking out on his dick— he’s always loved the twitch your lips make, failing to get your words out whenever you came. in rushed words, you whine out a sweet, “t-thank you toji, thank you,” and he’s taken by surprise once you pull him into nothing more than a sweet hug. “love you.”

it takes him a good minute to reply, he has a playful pout on his lips as he’s still inside—you feel his tip mash against your sweet spot, causing you to whimper against his ear before he kisses the sensitive outer shell of your earlobe.

“oh but i love you more, babygirl,” and you feel him gradually pull out. you frown at the sudden feeling of being empty before he hums at your expression. “now, let’s get some sleep. i’ll even sing you a song, just for you.”

[robo-writing]

Someone asked me to elaborate on this post, so I will :3 (18+)

Logan is a man who has always been a pack animal—a sheep in need of a flock, if you will. As much as he can deny it, he thrives off of a need to belong, a need to be needed. He’ll never admit it, but the signs are there.

Being fiercely loyal, his devotion, violent towards anyone or anything that threatens his peace. With the X-Men he’s protective, but with you? It’s something else entirely.

When Logan finds a partner actually willing to stay with him—broken, animalistic thing that he believes himself to be—he holds on tight to them and refuses to let go. It’s an odd mix between a child holding onto its favorite doll and a dog sinking its teeth into its favorite chew toy—but the intent is the same regardless.

You’re his, and he’s never gonna let you go.

To say he would kill for you is truly an understatement—he would wage war for you, would watch the viscera river down his arms in streams—a privilege he offers to you and you alone, the only woman in the world he’d ever trust with his leash. It scares him, how much control you have over him, but it excites him all the same.

The best part? You truly have no idea how much power over him you have.

Even the simplest things have him bending over backwards for you, calling for him from across the house in that melodic voice he loves so much just to ask him for help.

“Could you help me with dinner?”

“Mind grabbing this for me?”

“I’m too lazy, sorry to be a bother—“

And the answer is the same each time—“You’re no bother princess, just say the word.”

He wants to scold you sometimes at the mere suggestion that his answer would ever be no. When it comes to you, he doesn’t think the word is in his dictionary. You have him deeply, truly, well trained, so much so that he’d gladly kneel at your feet if it meant you’d look down at him, because at the end of the day you’d still be looking at him.

Embarrassing really, that the big bad wolverine is secretly a lovedrunk puppy, one that’d dig his thumbs into the arches of your feet, smiling to himself when you let out that deliciously drawn out moan when he hits the right spot, right there, thank you.

However, that same puppy turns into a feral hound whenever he perceives a threat. Whether it be friend or foe, he’s one step behind you the moment you show any kind of discomfort. Even the slightest hint of hostility and Logan’s right there, chest puffed and glaring daggers at whoever was stupid enough to try, and that’s on the best of days.

On the worst of days…it’s a different story entirely. You’ve become far too familiar with the dulled sound of skin meeting metal, that familiar snikt before you’re forced to stand between Logan and his next victim. The two of you have gotten kicked out of your fair share of establishments, but Logan apologizes in a way only he can—with his mouth against your cunt.

Every lick, every suck, every touch, an apology. Muttering into your pussy, worshipping it, his tongue against your clit his own personal prayer, the sound of your moans his reward for being so devout.

“Sorry for getting us in trouble doll—“

His palms smooth over your trembling flesh, rough and calloused, just the right amount of pressure to keep you grounded.

“Sorry for getting you banned from your favorite shop—“

His fingers leave divots in your thighs, pulling himself further against your mound. His nose bumps against your clit with each pass, and the feeling leaves you gasping for air.

“Sorry for being so protective—“

Again and again, his mouth brings you to heights you never thought possible.

“Sorry for being so rough, just can’t help myself.”

In more ways than one, he really can’t, can’t take the man out of the beast if he’s more beast than man. Can’t teach a feral dog to socialize, but you can teach it who his master is.

And boy, do you fucking teach him.

You give him the best lesson of your life whenever you praise him, spread your legs and pull his head deeper into your needy cunt, dig your nails into his scalp just the way he likes it and moan for him while your thighs shake and your pussy squirts against his taste buds.

“Good boy, Lo’—good fucking boy—“

If he had a tail, it’d be fucking wagging.

[honey-pages]

Mine - Viktor x Reader

Description -

Viktor performs oral on virgin Reader.

1.5k words

F/M. 18+. Smut. NSFW. Oral. Virgin Reader.

“How do you know so much about everything?” You joked. 

You had not expected Viktor to take it so seriously. He seemed a little wounded. 

“Do I appear to think I know so much about everything?” He asked in response.

“I didn’t mean it like that Viktor” You explained, “I just meant that you are so intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes I can feel a bit out of my depth.”

“Ah” He looked saddened “I had never considered that you would feel this way, you keep up with me so well”

The sight of him disheartened hurt. 

“I think it’s really attractive.” You try to reassure him, “When you know so much. It’s never a negative”

He chuckled, “You find my knowledge attractive?”

“Well, I find the whole of you attractive, but there’s something special about hearing things that you are clearly well-educated in.”

“Oh really?” He asks, “My education isn’t strictly academic you know”

Viktor looks amused, leaning forward on his elbows across the table at you. You had been flirting in his study for some time and it appeared to be coming to a natural conclusion. You were nervous though still confident in the experience being positive and what you wanted. You were very inexperienced sexually and this long period of flirtation proved enough for you to decide exactly how you wanted it. 

“Teach me” You state.

“Teach you what?” He asks with a bemused smile.

“Something non-academic”

“Anything?”

“Anything”

“Follow me to my bed, Miss (Y/N).” He invites.

Viktor’s bedroom is adjoined to his study, the two spaces linked by a door. As he stands, he reaches out a hand and you take it and follow him. His bedroom is clean, warm and dark, with a small lamp in the corner and a made bed to the right wall. Viktor closes the door behind you.

Viktor leads you to the bed and sits next to you. He turns and looks at you for a long while, examining the curves of your face and the familiar look of your skin. He is honoured you are trusting him in this way and equally excited at being in this position. He had felt romantically towards you for quite some time however was not sure you returned his feelings. Today had given him the courage to pursue them, your flirtatious conversations had become a green light encouraging him to indulge himself in your affection. 

You could see something in the way he watched you, judging and perceiving. He raised his hand to your face, his thumb swiping over your cheek and moving to grip the back of your head, playing with your hair. He pulls you in for a passionate kiss. 

“I am going to teach you” He manages, between breaths and kisses, “how my tongue feels.”

At this, Viktor increased his urgency, kissing you hungrily. He reclines you onto his bed, your head on his pillow as he lays above you, supporting his weight on his arms. He slips a knee between your thighs. 

“I will start with the basic principle” He starts, licking at your tongue gently, as if testing the temperature.

“Then maybe I will introduce some alternative methods” He continues, removing his mouth from yours to follow the curve of your jaw to your neck. When at your ear, he stops. His breath is warm and heavy, and it sends shivers through you when he speaks. His knee is pressing into you, its weight unbearable. The pressure against you was enough to make your hips move on their own, riding his thigh. 

Viktor watches you attempt to find friction, he grins, finding the sight amusing. 

“All it takes is my knee to elicit this reaction Miss (Y/N), I will make easy work of you with my mouth.”

You try to flirt back, “Viktor- “

Viktor’s knee is moving now, grinding at you relentlessly. His mouth is licking and biting at your neck, trailing to your chest. He shifts his weight to hold one of your hands, lifting it above your head and pinning it there. With his other hand, Viktor lifts your shirt, rearranging your bra to get a better view of you. 

“I am going to give you a demonstration” Viktor lowers his mouth to your breast, tilting to the side so you can view what he is doing with his tongue. Viktor licks gently at the very tip of you, then beginning to swirl his tongue around the sides, takes you into his mouth sucking with firm pressure. The feel of him and the sight of his tongue and lips on you makes you grind harder against his knee. His mouth is hot. His hand cups you and he squeezes, incorporating teeth to gently graze you. Between nips of his teeth, he rapidly flicks his tongue, continuing this with long smooth strokes. 

Viktor moves his mouth to kiss you again, he shifts down. The pressure of his knee is removed, and he shuffles towards the lower end of the bed. Kneeling, he pulls down your trousers, manoeuvring them under your hips and off down your legs. He discards them at the bottom of the bed. He lays flat on his front, face hovering just above the top of your thighs and hooks an arm under each of your legs, pulling you under his mouth. 

“Are you ready for me?” He asks.

He spreads open your legs slowly, laying them flat before him. He takes in the view, grinning happily. 

“I have often thought about this moment”

Viktor coats his fingers with his mouth, using the saliva he has already worked up. His fingers drip with it as he teases you open, sliding against your folds, holding you open and sensitive. 

“You are exactly what I imagined. No one before has had the pleasure of tasting you, have they Miss (Y/N)?”

You stumble, “No.”

“You belong beneath my tongue. You always have done.”

Viktor’s fingers circle your clit, tracing small shapes.

“Are you a virgin, Miss (Y/N)?”

You get quite nervous at the question. You were. You weren’t sure how Viktor would react. There was no reason why you though that he would react negatively, you had gathered he was experienced. If at least, more so than yourself. You had just become quite protective over it; you wanted the situation to be comfortable and equal.

“Yes.” You reply quietly.

You feel a blazing heat as Viktor closes his mouth around you, lapping with broad strokes against your clit. The inside of his mouth is wet, and you feel his saliva coat you, spreading warmth down and across your thighs. His tongue feels so smooth, he curls it and flicks it to achieve maximum sensation, and you are instantly coming undone. 

“Viktor!” You moan out.

“You moan so purely” He teases, “It is fitting that the only thing to have ever fucked you is my tongue.”

You push up and against his mouth. His words are sweet and when he speaks, your body reacts. You are desperate for him, for more of him. He thrusts his tongue inside. You instinctively wrap your hands into his hair. 

“Oh Viktor- “

He speeds up, flatly spreading his tongue between your entrance and your clit, focusing on either when reaching them. At your clit he rapidly flicks and sucks, increasing pressure and focus. 

“Just focus on the feeling, I want to hear the noises you make.”

You feel a strange rising in your core, like a building heat threatening to explode. It is raising as he quickens. Viktor is grinding into the bed, you notice it in his hips, he’s writhing. He wants you just as much as you want him. 

“You are mine” He murmurs, the words lost in the muffled sounds of the both of you. “Once I’m done having you on my face, I’ll have you on my cock.”

You are both desperate. You for release, and him for touch. 

“Viktor, Can I have- “Your words fail you.

“What do you want, Miss (Y/N)?”

“You, your cock, please- “

“Do you need it, Miss (Y/N)?” He asks, making eye contact while flicking his tongue backwards and forwards. 

“Yes Viktor, please” 

“How do you expect to take me when you haven yet experienced all that my tongue can do?”

Viktor tightens his grip and forces you down with more pressure against the muscles of his mouth. The feeling is rising again, that unfamiliar pleasure. You are near the edge you just can’t tell what that edge is, until you are spilling over it, desperately grinding over his tongue, coating his nose and chin with thick wetness.

“I’m- “You scream out.

Viktor drinks it down, swallowing you whole. He doesn’t dare move his mouth, he keeps his pace and encourages more and more from you. Your pleasure is blinding. 

“I can’t take anymore!” You moan out, trying to grip at his arms to loosen up their firm grasp on your thighs. 

“You are capable.” 

You are shuddering against him, sweating. He leaves a few little kisses over your clit before pulling away. His face is wet, his hair dishevelled. You notice the thick outline of him straining against his clothes. 

He reassures that you are comfortable before stating, “I am going to make you mine, Miss (Y/N).”

Tag List - @veru-boom, @gubkkki, @hi-hope-hop-in, @gloriousevolutionz

[kzrosa-writes]

NSFW BELOW — MDNI

— “p-please– no more!” you would beg, your desperate moans muffled against a pillow. his tip glistening with your arousal and countless orgasms circled and teased your entrance, gently pressing into your tight hole before he pulled it out. you let out a shaky breath, suppressing a whine. he was so cruel, so so cruel to your poor pussy. your mind was hazy and blurry, only filled with thoughts of how well he fucked you. you couldn’t even keep count of how many times he had made you cum in the past hour.

“c’mon, darling… you can handle one more, can’t you?” he would coo as he continued to tease and rub your clit with his tip. gently pressing it into your aching hole before pulling it out, your pussy clenching around him in a desperate attempt to keep him inside. “even your sweet pussy wants me to stay inside of you, love.”

it was the same thing every damn time — promising you that it’ll be the last one, making you cum all over his cock, teasing your clit, and the cycle repeats. you’re surprised just how well you’re taking it, but it seemed like he knew your body better than you did. 

giving him a silent nod of approval, he proceeded to slide fully into you without warning, eliciting a sharp moan from you. you clutched tightly onto the sheets, your belly pressed against the soft plush of the mattress as he continued to fuck you roughly from behind. your moans and gasps were partially muffled against a pillow, drool pooling around the corner of your parted lips. no matter how much he teased you, you could never stay upset at him. not when he has his hard cock pounding into you as an apology. 

thrusting roughly and fervently into you, he slid his hand in between your thighs to rub your swollen clit. you could feel his length pulsating inside of you with each thrust, throbbing and aching for release. soon enough, you felt that familiar knot in your stomach as he brought you closer and closer to your climax. you couldn’t tell which felt better — his sloppy and desperate thrusts or his slender fingers rubbing frantically against your aching bud. 

with a final snap of his hips, you felt your walls of pleasure crash down for the nth time tonight. letting out a whiny moan, you came all over his cock and your thighs, your release soaking the sheets once again. not long after, he came too, filling you up with his familiar warm and sticky cum. the hand playing with your clit brushed against the wet, dripping mess between your thighs, pulling it away before licking his fingers. he savoured your delicious taste, a sweet reward he had earned from making you cum. 

he pushed himself off of you before carefully helping you to sit down on his lap. brushing his thumb against your bottom lip, he gave you a soft, tender kiss, a huge contrast to the rough, berserk fuck he just gave you. he pulled you closer to his chest, holding you in his arms as the two of you basked in the afterglow of your release. leaning closer to you, he whispered those same damn words into your ear.

“think you can handle another one, sweetheart?”

childe, dottore, wriothesley, pantalone, neuvillette, kaeya, zhongli, diluc, scara, kinich, ayato, alhaitham + your faves !! ♡

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