#i'll come back to it some other time i hope

[furioussouls]

LADS guys as yanderes

[chubby reader]

Warning: yandere behaviour (soft, but yandere behaviour nonetheless), fem! chubby reader, manipulation, suggestive themes, reader is mc (in some parts), mentions of injuries (not through the boys), I'm not romanticising or condoning yandere behaviour in real life

Disclaimer: These characters do not belong to me, they are from a game called "love and deepspace", which was created by Infold. Any lore refrences and worldbuilding belong solely to them.

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Zayne:

• Zayne would be the overprotective and overbearing yandere. He is so furiously obsessed with your health and monitors it all to an unhealthy degree. You would not notice it at first, because he'll hide it extremely well from you and always hides behind his icy facade, but once it clicks in your head, its impossible to unsee.

You sat in front of Dr. Zayne in his office, the pungent odor of disinfectant lingering in the air as your plush thighs sat firmly on top the familiar chair. "Excuse me, Dr. Zayne? I am very thankful for your care, but I can't drop out of my missions every other day for routine check- ups. Is there a reason why you keep telling me to come back?". Zayne flexed his long, slender and scarred fingers and pushed his glasses closer to his face. He firmly starred at the screen of your medical scan and compared it with the one he took of you last week. "Do we have to wait for it to get worse in order for me to take care of your health? Your heart could get worse in the blink of an eye.", his voice rang out. You sighed and watched Zayne obsessively click from one picture to the next without blinking.

• After a mission gone wrong, you informed Zayne that you would arrive at the hospital shortly. You sighed and limped through the doors of the hospital. You were alright, your injuries not too grave, but you weren't quite sure if you had any internal injuries. You knocked on Zayne's office and walked through it. Zayn was hunched over, his hands buried tightly in his hair. When the door shut behind you, he jumped up with shaky hands. Before you could ask him whats wrong, he took long steps toward and scanned your injuries from top to bottom. His large hands pat down your body. "Where are your injuries?", before you could respond, he had hastily already taken off your shirt and shoved you down on the examination table and poked and prodded every part of your ample torso. You squealed "Dr. Zayne! I'm fine. My leg is the only thing that's injured.", he paid you no mind and continued to examine you while breathing heavily.

• After you two started dating, you felt like you were in paradise. Zayne was the biggest gentleman you've ever met. He helped you get dressed in the morning, tied your shoelaces, cooked for you, did the chores at home and walked on the outer side of the sidewalk. Sure, he was a bit annoying with his constant health examinations, but that can easily be ignored. Alright, maybe it's also annoying that he wants to know your location at all times, but it seriously has nothing to do with him not trusting you. He's just scared that you'll need his help and he won't know where you are. Zayne bounced his leg up and down and loosened the tie around his neck. His pulse quickened as he stared at his phone. 'My love, where are you? Should I come and pick you up?', why haven't you responded yet? Are you okay? Is your heart okay? Zayne's mind was racing and he thought about you, his perfect little love, passed out in some alleyway. He jumped up and made move to grab his jacket when his phone alerted him of your new message. 'Hi Zayne, I'll be home soon! I'll get us some ice cream.'

• he hopes you'll quit your job, so that you wont go on these dangerous missions anymore. He'll take care of you, you won't have to move a muscle. You also wouldn't have to do chores or anything, please just stay home.

• If you talk with him about his behaviour and tell him to tone it down a notch, he'll apologise profusely and tell you that he'll be more mindful, but his behaviour only grows more obsessive. He'll hide it from you, but his heart breaks whenever you do anything that could endanger you and he switches to a different type of surveillance. Sometimes he‘ll also give you “doctors orders“ on how you need to rest for a week if a dangerous mission pops up.

Xavier:

•Xavier is the possessive, jealous yandere. He's the wolf hidden beneath a fluffy, wooly facade.

You made your way to your apartment with grocery bags in your hand. When you reached your old, sturdy door, you heard a familiar soft voice behind you. "Who were you just talking to?". You spun around quickly and saw Xavier's soft smile behind you. You smiled at him and he bent down to take the grocery bags out of your soft hand. You smiled in gratitude and unlocked the door. He put the bags down on the table and began taking everything out of your bags. "Hm?", he asked and you looked at him in confusion. "Who was the man you were talking with earlier?", he repeated softly. You informed Xavier that he was your guys' new neighbour. Xavier nodded and walked slowly over to you. He wrapped his arms around your wide hips and gently gripped the fat of your back. "Is he nice? Nicer than me?", he asked softly and you rolled your eyes. "No, Xavier. Don't be jealous, again." He nodded and tenderly kissed your squishy cheeks.

• If he saw anybody he deemed a threat, he would take care of it. Quietly and without your knowledge. He wouldn't hurt or kill anyone, (unless they've hurt you in some way) but he would make sure that they would never be around you, ever again. If some girl had been gossiping about your weight like an insecure middle schooler? Suddenly she had to move cities. Somebody is standing in the way of your promotion? They were just relocated to a different place. Hmm, suspicious.

• he would never lay a hand on you. Ever. none of the guys would, They all adore and worship you too much.

•Xavier is lowkey like a kitten. If you scratch at his scalp and play with his hair, he'll lean into your touch and moan softly. He will happily lay down on your big thighs and sleep the whole day ever. Also, has a bite kink-, who said that?

• loves to go to sleep on top of you because you cannot leave while hes sleeping on top of you. He cuddles up on your chest and wraps his arms around you and kneads you like a stress ball, all of his troubles disappear when your comforting smell on body are underneath him. If both of you sat on the couch, he’d make sure that his lanky body is touching your plump one in any way possible. Sitting side pressed against side? Hell yeah. Sitting with your legs on his lap? Perfect. You sitting on his lap or him sitting on yours? Genuinely amazing. He’s happy.

• Sometimes, when somebody else would try and tell you that he's not as sweet as you think he is, he'll look at you with a hurt expression. You don't believe them, do you? Why would he lie to you? Who can be purer than him? His evol is light, after all. He means well.

You look at Xavier's wide, glossy eyes, his lips streched into a slight frown. "I just don't know why they would say something like that about me? Have I made a wrong first impression? Is it because I’m so sleepy?". You wrapped your soft arms around Xaviers lanky body and gently swiped over his blond hair. “No, Xavier. I’m sorry that they’re saying that about you.“

He sighed happily into your shoulder and smiled. He loves you so much. Don’t leave him, okay? He‘ll find you anyway.

Rafayel:

• Rafayel is a bratty, manipulative yandere. Don't be fooled by his sweet, pouty lips. We all know not to mess with sirens, and how persuasive they can be.

• If the two of you are engaged in a conversation with somebody who shows a little too much interest in you, Rafayel turns everything they say into something negative.

"So, our company works closely with the animal shelters in Linkon.", the sleazy business man told you with a bright smile as his eyes scanned you from top to bottom. You were nodding along and fixing your dress, which seemed to accentuate every little curve of yours. Rafayel's face contorted in disgust, his beautiful, plump lips streched into a grimace. "Wait, that means you don't want to get rid off the horrible loneliness that animals go through? Is that what you're saying?".

The business man's face jaw dropped and he blinked at Rafayel. "I don't under-", Rafayel interrupted the man and gripped your hand tighter, "Well, you're saying your company depends on the poor, lonely animals being dropped off into shelters, which means if you were presented with the opportunity to give all of these animals a home, you wouldn't do it, since that's where you'd be getting your money from.", Rafayel exlaimed with a fake outrage. You raised your eyebrow at him and the business man turned on his heel and left the conversation. Rafayel's fake outrage dropped and a neutral expression bloomed on his face. "Really, Raf'?", you asked him incredulously and he shrugged and gently kissed your knuckles. “Cutie, he was annoying me!“, he exclaimed in a whiny voice.

• If anybody gets on your nerves, just tell him. He'll take care of them and you won't ever have to see them again. He doesn't understand human morals and also does not abide by them. The only thing that matters to him is that his cutie is okay and that you love him. The rest of the world could perish.

• he'll act bratty and needy so that you would touch him. He wishes that you would never stop paying attention to him. Your hands on him is the best kind of heaven that he could imagine. Just dont ignore him, he'll wither away and break down. Please stop acting all cool and just him as your own personal stress reliever /plushie!

• he wants to be the prettiest thing that you’ve ever seen. He wishes you would ogle at him or sexualise him- at least a little bit. He wants to feel wanted and loved. If you make a raunchy joke to him or reply jokingly with a “without me?“ when he tells you about his baths, he’ll act shocked and outraged but warmth spreads in his chest and if he had a cat tail, it would fluff up.

• he will paint your naked body in every position and with every sort of art media. He will never show them to anybody else, sometimes not even to you, but he prides himself on knowing your gorgeous round body inside and out and draws you in different positions, only using his memories of you. Anybody that sees these vulnerable pictures of you will be disposed of.

•If you're about to get yourself into a dangerous situation, he'll use his siren song on you. He would never use it on you in any other situation, but your well- being is the most important thing in the world to him. Everything else is secondary. He‘ll make you forget ever hearing it and he’ll use it again and again if you think he‘ll let you head off into danger.

Sylus:

• Sylus is the protective yandere, who monitors your every move. However, he'll hide it so well that most of the time you won't even notice his tendencies. Of course, you know about Mephisto, but he also wasn’t trying to hide Mephisto from you.

“Can you believe he would do that? Ugh! It’s so annoying, I’ve been working my ass off for this job, and he just ruined it all in one second!“, you complained to Sylus, your soft cheeks wet with your own tears.

“I‘m sorry, sweetie. You worked so hard for this. I can’t believe he would ruin it for you.“, Sylus said with his deep and husky voice. He gently wiped your tears away and you sniffed. His big hand gently smoothed over your head and he gently pushed your head into his chest. Sylus looked over your shoulder to Kieran and Luke and nodded at them.

Both of them left quietly and made sure to find the man who has hurt you. Don’t worry, they’re supposed to bring him back alive.

• He watched the cameras to your room and sighs softly. He can’t go one day without seeing you, he needs to see you at all times. You were cuddled into your bed while watching your favourite show, and so was Sylus. He scanned every part of you, basically inhaling all of your essence and his tension drained from his shoulders. You made his life better- you made it feel like life was worth living.

• if by any chance he does miss any disrespect or danger thrown your way, and you happen to tell him about it, he‘ll laugh along with you. He‘ll smirk at your story and chuckle at how happy you’re reenacting the situation, but the moment he’s alone, he‘ll find every person, who was involved in this situation and ruin them. He will either kill them or drain them of their money til they kill themselves.

“I don’t even know why he tried to fight me without backup“, you chuckled and Sylus grinned at your words. “My, my. Seems like the boxing lessons I gave you helped you tremendously, kitten.“ He teased you and gently smoothed his warm fingers over your bruised eye. Your phone rang and you excused yourself from Sylus. He nodded with a soft smile. After you left the room, Sylus‘ big grin fell and his nostrils flared. A big ball of anger spread from his chest to his arms and he clenched his hands and jaw. The name of the perpetrator echoed through his head like a drill. He picks up his phone and told Luke and Kieran that they would go out tonight.

•loves to be your personal pillow and plushie. If you want to cuddle with him gently to forget about the weight of the world for a moment? Go ahead. If you wanna take your anger out and wrestle with him, please feel free to do so, he lives and breathes to please you after all. He wants to take care of you and your mental health, and he wishes you would tell him every single thought running through your mind. But since that’s unrealistic, he‘ll settle for being your emotional and physical plush toy.

•he buys you all the clothes in your cart. You’re always shocked on how he knows your exact size and the clothes in general, since you’ve never showed them to him before.

“Oh my god, Sylus! This is exactly what I wanted. It’s so damn hard to find fat- friendly clothing. But- wait. How do you know that this is the dress I wanted?“, Sylus chuckled deeply and pointed to Mephisto. “He saw you adding it to your cart“. Mephisto definitely didn’t see you adding it to you cart. Sylus just sees everything you’re doing on your electronic devices, but he just loves you so much, dont blame him. He'd never judge you for anything on there.

Caleb:

• Caleb is the worshipper and isolating yandere. He wishes he could spend the rest of his life servicing your every wish. You’re the only thing in his life that he needs. You’re his very oxygen, the blood running through his veins. So, naturally he should treat you as well as you deserve to be treated. By himself. Alone. Nobody else loves you as much as he loves you, they wouldn’t treat you the way you deserve to be treated- they couldn’t.

“Caleb“, you scolded gently when he kneeled in front of you. He laid his head down on your plump thighs and closed his eyes.

“Pipsqueak, how can I get you to quit your job, hm? There must be something that can convince you, anything at all. Please. There must be something I can do for you to stay here with me, forever.“

You sighed and gently ran your fingers through his hair. He let out a sigh of relief and pressed his face into your thighs. “I do want to stay with you, Caleb. I will not quit my job, though. I will not stay here, cooped up in your house while you’re in one dangerous mission after the other. No, no way.“

• cooks for you. Seeing you eat something that he made makes his heart beat faster. He loves everything about your expression, your happy face and your grateful praise. He feels like a puppy with a tail that's wagging too fast for its little body. That's how you make him feel. Caleb loves your praise and appreciation. He would take care of you regardless of your appreciation but he loves you so much, hearing your sweet words make him even more obsessed with you.

•he‘ll sit you on his lap and massage every inch of your ample skin. Not once inch will be untouched. He loves the smell and feel of your body on top of him. If you‘ll let him, he’ll massage your body until his hands cramp up. He‘ll do it for the rest of his life. From your cute round toes to the top of you’re pretty head. Also- he‘ll learn the perfect hair care routine for your hair type and will perform it for you. You haven’t done your own hair in such a long time.

•works out with you on his back. If he can’t carry you out of a dangerous situation, all of his workouts and muscles would be for nothing, so he’d try many different positions and with many different handicaps. Sometimes he‘ll only carry your weight with one arm, in another scenarios he’s missing a few other limbs. (He can carry you btw, all of them can and no I don’t care how much you weigh. All of them can)

• kills any threat mercilessly. Nothing will harm you ever again. If you want, you can think of him as your knight or better yet, your guard dog. There is nothing that you have to be scared of doing, just make sure you allow him to come with you and let him take care of everybody that's standing in your way. In his eyes you deserve to rule the world but thankfully you're not an evil villain.

•sometimes when he’s awake and you’re not, he‘ll cancel your alarms so that you would miss work. You don’t have to go, after all. And if they fire you, he can eliminate them for upsetting you and he can take care of you. Don’t leave him. Just stay with him and let him love you til you die. He’ll die with you and he can keep worshipping and taking care of you wherever you both go.

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[circledwithaheart]

Buck is a few shots deep (when did he switch to shots?) with his new bar buddy. An attractive older guy who, as it turns out, also used to work at the 118 under Captain Nash.

"You worked with Bobby?" Buck lights up and rambles on before the guy can answer. "That means you must've worked with Hen and Chim, right?"

The guy mumbles a few things that Buck can't hear, and probably doesn't want to, before confirming he worked with Hen and Howie.

"Yeah, right. Howie. You know he married my sister? Gave me the cutest little niece." Buck beams and pulls out his phone to show off the album of Jee Yun photos. And then the other thought strikes again.

They look about the same age. It's possible, he thinks. Well, it's not impossible. Buck goes to pocket his phone again, only he misses his shirt entirely and it clatters on the table.

"Sorry 'bout that, uh, so if you worked with them- did you, uh, work with, uh, T-tommy? Tommy Kinard?"

Why is the name that used to slide off his tongue so easily now trip and stutter like it doesn't belong there?

The guy laughs, not seeming to notice Buck's elocution issues, and takes another shot. “Fuck, I’m getting too old for this shit.”

He spins the empty shot glass like a top. “Kinard? Yep, sure did. One of the best partners I could've asked for. At least he got to leave on his own terms.”

Buck furrows his brow, something familiar scratching at the back of his tequila addled brain. “What, uh, what did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,” the guy says matter of factly.

“But, you seem like a nice guy, so I'll tell you," he adds with a wink. "It’s Deluca. Sal Deluca.”

Buck's heard the name, a few stories here and there. Heard he moved to the 122, but doesn't know why.

"You transferred, right?" Buck asks cautiously.

The guy - Sal - shrugs his acknowledgement. "More or less. Anyway, I guess I better amend my introduction then. It's actually Captain Deluca. But Sal is fine. Or just Deluca."

"Buck."

Sal looks at him like he's got three heads. "Is that something new the kids are saying these days or...?"

"No, uh, 's m'name. Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but you can call me Buck."

Sal studies him for a second before holding a hand out. "Nice to meet you, kid."

They shake hands and Buck thinks about the way Sal called him 'kid'. It's not like when Tommy said it. More like Bobby or Chim. Familial.

"Sorry to drink and run, but I gotta get home," Sal says, pushing out of his chair. "Wife's gonna kill me if I'm home too late."

"Oh, yeah. Sure. Maybe I'll see you around."

"Yeah, maybe." Then he's throwing some cash on the table and walking away.

~~~~~

As soon as he's out of sight, Sal taps on the camera app. It's probably a little unethical to surreptitiously be taking photos of the kid- Buck- but it's for a good cause.

Once upon a time he might have tried to pick him up, something about the kicked puppy look pulls at his heartstrings. Among other things. But now he's a happily married man with a whole brood to think about. Gina really would kill him, decorated fire captain or not.

He swipes over to messages and fires off a quick text.

Met your boy tonight. Christ Kinard he’s as bad as you. Should really put yourselves out of your collective misery.

It doesn't take long before the bubbles appear.

I did, remember? It's better this way.

Sal attaches the picture this time.

Better for who, exactly?

The bubbles appear and disappear again, until his screen eventually goes dark and no more responses come. Sal sighs and gets in the cab of his truck, contemplating another text, but ultimately decides against it. Tommy will talk when he's ready.

He steals another glance through the giant plate glass window where Buck is still sitting, sullen and lost, albeit with what looks like water this time.

"I hope it works out, kid, and he doesn't wait too long." Sal pushes aside the phantom acrid scent of a dinner forgotten in the oven while they fucked on the kitchen floor, the fear in Tommy's eyes when Sal asked when they could tell people about them. Because it had been months of sneaking around to each other's apartments. Of being more than just work partners- or so he thought. "Maybe he'll get his head out of his ass before it's too late this time."

[writingwithciara]

across the hall; part 9 -quinn hughes-

summary: y/n moves in across the hall from quinn and in an emergency, she leaves her five-year old daughter in his care

word count: 2.2k

pairing: quinn hughes x reader, toxic ex-boyfriend x reader

notes:

abby and y/n had been living with quinn for 2 months. y/n and quinn were both incredibly busy so they barely had time to see each other.

however, when y/n would work a longer than a normal shift, she would come home to a nice hot meal that seemed to have been prepared just in time for her arrival. but when she would check on quinn, he would already be asleep.

and on the nights she worked a regular shift, she would come home to find quinn and abby curled up together on the couch. abby was asleep every time but quinn stayed awake some of the time. he wanted to make sure y/n made it home safe. but on the nights he had failed to stay awake, y/n would cover the two with a blanket and head to her room.

for quinn, it was getting harder and harder to ignore the feelings he was developing for y/n. he knew he loved her and he was very fond of abigail. but he knew he couldn't say a thing to y/n. or anyone for that matter. it would scare her away and it was the last thing he wanted to do.

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on a day during the week before christmas, y/n had the day off so she was spending it with natalie and bella while quinn had taken abby to spend the day with his brothers and brock.

the girls were helping y/n with the rest of her christmas shopping. it was almost done but she was having trouble deciding what to get quinn.

"this shouldn't be as hard as it is." y/n groaned and turned to her friends. "you guys have known him longer. what do you think he'd like?"

"just because we've known him longer than you, doesn't mean we know him better." bella smiled. "you can do this, y/n. reach into your heart and figure out what he likes."

"yeah. you got this, girl." natalie looked around the store. she still had a few things to buy but nothing was catching her eye so she turned her attention back to the girls.

"i'm trying to think of something he needs but he already has everything i can think of." y/n sighed.

"you could honestly get him anything and he'd be happy." bella smiled. "i don't think anything could ever top you agreeing to move in with him though."

"yeah. he was over the moon the day after it happened. i remember him telling j.t. how excited he was and how full he felt having you around." natalie nudged y/n with a knowing smirk.

"that's good, i suppose." y/n checked her phone as it dinged. quinn sent her a photo of abby on brock's shoulders. the girl was staring down at him with a smile on her face.

think she's over her crush on jack now 😂 the text read.

y/n flipped the phone around to show bella. "i think you may have some competition."

"i can't compete with her. she's too damn adorable."

"indeed she is." y/n put her phone back in her pocket and looked at the stuff she had in the cart. "i think it's time to head home. i'll figure out quinn's gift later. plus, we have a game to get ready for."

"that's right. and the guys are gonna kick some ass tonight."

"but if they don't, i hope you can cheer up quinn. he's especially grumpy after a tough game."

"i'm aware. and don't worry. i know how to cheer him up. wouldn't be the first time." she piled all the stuff onto the conveyor belt. when she looked back at the girls, her eyes widened at their expressions. "no. wait. i didn't mean it like that. i swear."

"relax. we know you didn't mean it that way."

"but i'm sure quinn wouldn't mind being cheered up that way." bella smirked. "i mean, he definitely loves going home, knowing that you'll be there waiting for him."

"we've become quite comfortable as roommates. and abby adores him to no end." y/n smiled and put everything in the cart after she paid. "it's a good thing we got going on. so i don't want to ruin it by reading too much into that comment."

"was that a somewhat tiny confession?" bella eyed her friend suspiciously.

"i do believe it was." natalie smiled and after she paid for her things, she followed the girls back out to the car. y/n rolled her eyes as she got in the driver's seat.

once she dropped the two girls off at their own homes, she was alone with her thoughts. things between her and quinn were really good and she knew she couldn't ask for a better friend.

as she parked in her spot and climbed out of her car, she felt excited to be going home. she couldn't stop replaying bellas' comment from earlier.

he definitely loves going home, knowing that you'll be there waiting for him.

she knew it was true because she had witnessed it firsthand how happy he got when he saw her on the couch after coming home from a particularly upsetting game.

as she approached their door, she could hear abby giggling on the other side. and just knowing that quinn was responsible for it, made her heart soar.

she opened the door and watched as quinn ran around with abby on his back. they were both laughing and when abby spotted y/n, her smile grew.

"momma, you're back!"

quinn turned around and just like abby, his smile grew wider when he locked eyes with y/n. he gently set abby down and let her run to her mother.

"hey. how was the shopping trip?"

"it was great. got a present for almost everyone on my list." she set the bags in her room and returned to where quinn was. "i couldn't find you anything that felt good enough."

"that's alright. you don't have to get me anything." quinn chuckled. "i already have the one thing i wanted."

"and what's that?"

"you and abby living here with me."

"bella said something similar earlier. but i didn't believe her." y/n smiled and looked at quinn. "i'm still going to get you something. and it's going to be perfect."

"i suppose we'll see." quinn raised an eyebrow and headed for the door. "you guys are coming to the game, right?"

"yeah. we just have to get ready then we'll drive over to the arena."

"great. see you there." quinn picked up his bag and walked out.

y/n went over to abby and smiled. "alright. let's get you ready for the game."

3 hours later, y/n was watching the boys closely. they seemed to be doing better this game than they had all season. and in their 3rd period, it seemed as though florida wasn't holding anything back. they were checking vancouver players into the boards every other minute.

and at one point, one of the florida players checked quinn into the boards roughly, causing his face to hit the glass. quinn slid down to the ice as the whistle was blown.

"florida number 19. 2 minutes for cross-checking." the ref spoke through his mic and made all the necessary gestures as the linesmen escorted matthew tkachuk to the penalty box.

quinn got up and skated slowly over to the bench. he sat down and y/n kept a close eye on him as he got checked over by the team medic.

after a few minutes, he was given the all-clear to head back onto the ice to finish the game. and he came back with a vengeance, scoring 2 times in less than 30 seconds.

the canucks ended up winning in a 7-0 shutout and everyone cheered. y/n walked with bella and natalie down to the players' hallway to wait. abby held onto her hand tightly and the second she saw brock exit the locker room, she released y/n's hand and ran towards him.

"brock, that was amazing!" she hugged his leg tightly.

bella rolled her eyes playfully and walked up to brock. "she's right. you played a great game, babe."

y/n watched as j.t. came out and went to natalie, pulling her into a hug and kissing her head. she so badly wanted a loving relationship like that, but she didn't have much luck in that department.

quinn was the last one out of the locker room. abby ran to him immediately.

"you were awesome out there, quinn." she smiled as he picked her up.

"thank you, abby. i'm glad you had fun."

"how's your head feeling?" y/n looked at him as he stood next to her.

"a little better now than when i got hit." he offered her a kind smile. "i'm glad you came tonight."

"me too." they stared at each other for longer than two friends should before abby broke their moment.

"i'm hungry. can we get food?"

"the only place open this late is mcdonald's." quinn looked at the girl he was holding.

"and i'm okay with that." abby smiled and glanced between them.

"alright then." quinn chuckled. "did you drive here?"

"no. took a cab. figured everyone would want to go out after the game and i figured it would be the smartest option to carpool."

"well, it's a good thing you had faith in the the team then."

"i always have faith in you, quinn." y/n grinned.

as quinn admired her, something inside him shifted and he was suddenly free falling. his feelings were going wild and he had to fight to keep the words inside.

thankfully, they were still in the company of brock and bella.

"mind if we join you guys at mcdonald's?"

"absolutely. the more the merrier." quinn handed abby to y/n and they walked to the garage. he helped get abby in the seat before he held the door for y/n. she climbed in silently and as quinn drove, he could feel her eyes drift in his direction every few seconds. "i need to talk to you when we get home later."

"okay." y/n smiled at him before turning her gaze out the window until they reached mcdonald's. before y/n could get out herself, quinn was already out and opening her door. he walked over to abby's door and got her out, carrying her into the restaurant.

y/n was about to order when quinn spoke up and ordered for her. he knew exactly what she wanted and she loved it.

bella was already sitting by the time the order was placed and brock was waiting for the food. y/n decided to take abby from quinn and join bella at the table. as she sat down, bella couldn't stop the question.

"how obvious can you guys be?"

"i beg your pardon?"

"you and quinn." bella pointed like it was most obvious thing in the world. "you guys are not very good at hiding your feelings."

"what feelings?"

"do you really need me to spell it out? you're not an idiot, y/n. i know you can feel the way quinn looks at you."

"i feel the way everyone looks at me. so what?"

"that man is obsessed with you. like, he's really in love or something."

"and how do you know that?"

"because he looks at you the way brock looks at me. and unless my boyfriend doesn't love me, it's clear that quinn loves you. or at the very least, has feelings for you."

"i love you, bella. but you are insane." y/n glanced over at the boys to find them already looking at the table.

"it's true, mom." abby giggled. "and i think maybe you like him too."

"you know what? just for that comment, i'm going to eat all your fries."

"go ahead. i only wanted the nuggets anyway." abby smiled and stuck her tongue out at her mom.

on the other side of the restaurant, quinn kept glancing at y/n. brock slapped his arm.

"why don't you just tell her already?"

"what? no idea what you're talking about."

"oh come on. you're not stupid, quinn. and you're far from subtle. you keep looking at y/n every 3 seconds."

"i do not." but just as he finished his sentence, he found himself glancing back at her. "okay. fine. i like her. like, really really like her."

"was that so hard?"

"yes, actually. the last time i liked someone this much, it blew up in my face. remember olivia?"

"of course i do. but the past isn't doomed to keep repeating. you owe it to yourself to at least tell her."

"she lives with me. what if i tell her i like her and she doesn't feel the same? then it'll be awkward and i can't have that happen to her."

"do you want me to ask bella to do some recon or something? because you're only going to be hurting yourself by keeping this a secret."

"whatever, man. do what you gotta do." quinn grabbed his tray and walked over to the table.

an hour later, brock and bella were saying goodbye and driving away. quinn helped buckle a sleeping abby into her seat before he opened the door for y/n. the drive home was quiet. neither of them wanted to speak. their separate conversations with their friends were repeating.

by the time they made it home and y/n put abby to bed, they were both exhausted.

"hey, i know you wanted to talk when we got home. but i'm tired. is there any chance we could wait until tomorrow? i have the day off again."

"yeah. sure." quinn smiled and watched y/n retreat into her room.

the conversation would have to wait.

----------

tags: @alwaysclassyeagle @justagingerliving @marroonwitch @hwalllllllelujah @lovelyhishier

[cookies-after-dark]

Hello again! I'm glad you liked the fact that I thought Burning Spice could purr!

Also, a little hint as to what my au is? Ancient Cookies running an asylum.

I'll go into detail once the voting thing in the @frostedheartwriter blog is done. (That's my blog for Crk writing! You're free to expand on some of the writing if you want. Just tag me.)

Anyway, I have a small request.

How do you think Dark Cacao would react if Y/n loved to be on top because of cuddles that come after? (Aka, a Y/n that loves to be a weighted blanket after doing the deed. I'd also like to see how Pure Vanilla and Shadow Milk would react to this but let's stick to one at a time so I don't overwhelm you.)

You can do Yandere if wanted.

ALSO-, I feel like the Ancient's can purr but they keep it hidden for their own reasons. Except for Hollyberry. I feel like she'd be proud to show her purring. (And I bet ya that White Lily is shy about her purring.) And this would make it so Dark Choco can purr but he'll probably hide it because he's embarrassed about it or something.

Hope you have a nice day/night!

-🌙❄🐼

author's note: this ask is an example of going against my "no requests" rule but i'm answering this anyway so that other people can see this lovely blog and because of cookies purring. no hard feelings; just another gentle reminder for people to read my pinned post

Definitely will check out your blog because I love your ideas. The fact that not only the Beasts can purr but also the Ancients is super interesting.... (I get lost in the sauce imagining Hollyberry and Golden Cheese and White Lily purring because I love women)

Dark Cacao is an underrated king and if I have anything to say in the matter, I WILL right more of him even if I suck at it. Best case scenario my writing and critical thinking skills will improve and I will be media literate enough to do him some justice.

For now, I'll say this: Dark Cacao is one of the more shy ones when it comes to asking for and expressing his affection for you. For you to take the lead will make him shift and look off to the side a bit, but he never gives you the impression that he doesn't enjoy this. You can feel him slowly relax as you lay on top of him, and he steadies you with a large, gentle hand on the small of your back.

[rotagnus]

advice for your specific situation---<3

hi babies!! i hope all of you are doing okay. you can ask this about any situation you want, i'll try to be general, but there may be some more specific messages littered along the way.

this is a bit of a heavy reading and it deals with certain topics, so as always, be wary!

pile 1.

you guys are absolutely hopeless for some reason. shot down multiple times, it's hard to keep your head up, but your relentless hope is the only thing that's gotten you through tough times in the past, so you keep your head up even though you're crawling. there's a lot of disharmony in matters of the heart; a lot of you could have been very naive towards some problem of an emotional nature, and you may be feeling as if your heart is shattered, or perhaps tender. you are curious about the world, and have an innate belief in the goodness of people even though you keep getting backstabbed over and over again. you've probably asked for a sign recently; a sign to keep your hope, to keep your heart open regardless of the troubles you've experienced. you should look inwards; stop focusing on the minute details of the physical world. you probably have problems with self-sabotage and causing yourself to be in pain, take that as you may. it's hard to not fall back into old patterns, to keep your head up, especially when you've convinced yourself that the ending to this situation is bad. the answer is, you must keep your hope. you must, you must, you must. it is the right thing to do. you will be victorious, in the end, my bleeding heart. that phrase describes you very well. sensitive, emotional, but you prize those aspects of yourself. continue to do so. nurture yourself. you worry about other people, about their problems, but the truth is that you must focus on your faith.

a lot of you seem to have lost your belief in something, going through a dark phase. many are already on a journey to self-discovery, but you feel like you've taken a major step back. you may see other people getting what they want in life, people who are further behind you, and you ask God, why not me? truth is, you have a deep desire to grow. all these people you worry about chose the easy way out and will have a lot of problems to unpack later on in their life. you have your guardian angel to support you, you have many, many pillars of support. soon, everything will clear up, and you will see the answer. don't force yourself to choose an ending before it's time.

a cycle is ending for you. you must let this dark phase come over you. a lot of you might get your period soon or perhaps experience some stormy weather, going through the winter of this ending phase. for this situation to bloom, you must set out boundaries and lay out the ground-flooring for the next cycle to come. what do you want out of your life, darling? not what your parents want, what your friends want, what was laid out in front of you. a lot of you want to be seen. i think you'll get that, but only when you allow yourself to be. this new cycle will bring truths; truths you avoid. it'll bring your true self to the light, and you'll feel belly-up. i think this will be a focal point in your life, for it will either be a cycle you have to keep relearning, or you will finally accept that you must be yourself, authentically. this situation is entirely dependent on you, and how you face these adversities.

pile 2.

you guys are convinced you know everything, through and through. you are on hell of an assumption-maker, my friend. you guys are also givers. you guys are extremely self-aware of your duality, yet you beat yourself up for doing anything out of the extremely high morals you've set for yourself. some of you are guilty about a certain situation; God is telling me that you must forgive yourself. forgive yourself. you can't always be pure and good. your goodness comes from your ability to forgive, and your ability to grow. a lot of you are discovering patterns in your life and patterns in your thinking, which in itself is a very hard process, so i applaud you for that. you've got skeletons in your closet, and they're all coming out, and you're convincing yourself that you are a terrible person because you've gone through shit. FALSE!!! a lot of those things were out of your control. relax, baby. a lot of you are feeling as if this situation is hopeless. partially, some of you felt like everything was going well; it was going great, in fact, and recently something destroyed this perfect world that you had. it may have collided with your new, fresh belief in good things. you are tired of growing through pain. i think a lot of you are pretending that self-love isn't part of the journey. honey baby, you must love yourself very deeply before you can throw yourself onto a sword. yes, life has risks; but a lot of you seem to self-sacrifice yourself to the point that you are marred with nothing but scars and bruises. you view yourself as dirty. you need to develop better self-love and self-respect instead of letting people walk all over you.

your hard work isn't going unacknowledged. you need to set up the basic infrastructure for your life before you can start adding players to the game. you have a pure heart, and sometimes, what the heart wants...isn't necessarily what the heart needs, or deserves. you need to accept that. what you think is perfect for you, may not be perfect for you. also, it may be a better thing to keep a stone-face for a while, to people who you are not very close with. do not tell them your good experiences; people can be jealous, and share your sweet things with sweet people. i feel as though you will get what you want when you grow as a person; you can't start a habit for 10 days and decide that it's all permanent on the 10th day. it takes time. it takes lessons. you asked to be strong, for growth, and this is what you get.

10 is very significant for you guys, i am hearing. OOOUUU girl okay okay. i see. so my deck has hearts instead of swords, and two of hearts fell out, as well as the magician. i think that the magician represents the universe while the two of hearts represent you and someone else, or something else. a lot of you seek perfection with this other subject; you want everything to be orchestrated on YOUR timing. this won't happen! the magician is orchestrating things to happen on divine timing. you can't rush things; right now, focus on making sure that you're the version of yourself you want to be in order to get this blessing. things move on their own timing, with the chariot; you are simply a passenger in this moving vehicle, you cannot tell the driver to go faster. look out of the window and observe the beautiful landscape instead of rushing. the car ain't gonna go faster anyways LOL. 333 is significant, too. change is coming. your intuition is on point; a lot of you already know what you must do for this situation. the lovers fell out again; i think that this may be about romantic love, for some of you. you guys have a lot of dead things you're burying, and you're not done yet; when you'll finish this cycle, you'll get what you want. sailor song may be significant for some of you; i like the way you kiss me by artemas, too. enjoy this journey.

pile 3.

you guys are lost on what to do and where to go. you feel like you've finished a certain cycle in your life, but now you're at a cross-roads, and your heart, soul, body, and mind, all want different things. which do you follow? i feel like a lot of you may have gone ghost on some people; frozen in action is what i'm hearing. maybe you stopped telling people about things in your life, because people from the past wonder about you. it's important for you not to fall into past patterns, dear. a lot of you are very deep feelers, very deep thinkers, and you see people for who they are; their bads, their goods, you understand it is all part of being human. the truth is that people can be both good and bad simultaneously while not deserving a role in your life. it's your movie, baby, and you don't need to have everyone as a star in it. you're such a sweet thing, and you deserve sweetness in your life. a lot of you may be growing closer to your friends, and i advise that you hang-out with them, or talk. you grew up either very alone, or with a very close-knit group of people, forged out of pains and sufferings. you're a realist, and you have a very straight view of the world, not allowing yourself to see it as something extremely optimistic, as pile 1 does. when you do, it makes you overwhelmed; it feels as if your heart has multiplied, beating in so many rhythms it confuses you. you're reminiscing on people, specifically; you, my love, have a deep love for humanity. a commitment to bettering the world is very significant here. you've distanced yourself from society, in a way, but you still want people to bloom. you are wise beyond your years.

but that doesn't mean that you have to be so strong all the time. it's alright to break down and cry. you don't have to be the parent, you don't have to carry all this weight on your shoulders. i promise you, the universe/God will listen to all your burdens. cry. speak to whatever you have faith in. cry again. i feel like a lot of you just need to blurt out whatever you're feeling so you can understand what you feel. whisper at night, write it down in a journal, speak to the stars, speak to a person. you are so treasured. a lot of you feel like you have to perform for others. everyone's always watching you, watching you, for a stumble. you MUST let go. stop caring what others think. they ain't gonna like you if they ain't like you already. their opinions don't matter. you have a voice that could start wars, and the right people will stand behind you and not betray you. there are still good people out there, and for your situation, YOU MUST UNDERSTAND IT IS NOT ALWAYS GOOD TO BE BY YOURSELF. being alone is good, for self-reflection...being alone because you're scared of opening up is bad. you see people as weapons, weapons of love and pain--look at them as people. honey, you are so wise, but sometimes, simplicity is the answer.

a lot of you have to be strong right now. everyone's watching you--you're the star of the show, to God, to higher beings, to the people in your life. be confident; you are in this beautiful role for a reason! dance, be yourself. people's feelings will reveal themselves, if you feel as if there are liars or untruthful people in your life, a lot of the things you're worrying about will reveal themselves to you. you just have to accept your beauty and work on your self-love. a lot of you doubt your own self, and you have an awkward perception of yourself as a person. kick yourself out of this state, and look at yourself, baby, you're the whole bag of cookies and MORE!! you're a damn deal! you're gorgeous, beautiful, smart! read those affirmations. do the work. you'll be a-okay, honey!

[sparkbirdmusic]

I understand if I'm crossing a boundry but i was wondering how you knew you were non binary? I really like titles and the one given to me feels like it doesnt fit quite right. I understand if you dont respond because thats really personal.

I'm comfortable talking about it!

Part of it is that words like "man" don't feel accurate when applied to me. I used to think that was because of my sexuality, because for so long sexuality was kind of the focal point of queer identities.

Then I did this project for a queer studies class where I studied an online community project called Genderfork. Because Genderfork was a photo-based project, for the creative component of the assignment, me and my group took our own photos playing with gender. For the photos, my AFAB (assigned female at birth) classmates dressed in more masculine-presenting ways, and for some reason I (an AMAB person) found myself doing the same.

(I had always been clean-shaven up to then. Later I had facial hair for a while, and for a while that felt right, but now it feels strange to me and has for several years. idk, we're all in flux!)

As a kid I loved everything "girly," I wore body glitter, I played with dolls, everyone thought I was a girl, I absolutely wanted to be a girl... if I'd grown up with different parents, I'm 95% sure I'd be a trans woman. (And I know it's never too late, but I'm fine with where I've settled. For now! Who knows.) BUT I think I would still have come to the conclusion that gender is a social construct, and ended up nonbinary eventually. I think there's something in me that sees the ambiguity in everything.

Other aspects of my childhood seem like clues to my being nonbinary. I got along well with other kids who weren't gender-typical, especially tomboys. And my favorite stories were ones where girls cut off their hair and pretended to be boys (the Alanna series by Tamora Pierce, The Gentleman Outlaw and Me—Eli by Mary Downing Hahn, Mulan, etc.). I think I related so hard because it felt like what I was doing.

Several years into my relationship with my partner Adam, he started exploring his gender identity and presentation. He dressed very femme for a while, and it led me to confront aspects of my sexuality and my own gender identity. Eventually he settled back into identifying as male and dressing in ways that are more male-coded, though lately that's evolving again. (again, we're all in flux)

Somewhere in there, amidst my obsession with Steven Universe and a nonbinary storyline in the show Transparent, I started seriously questioning my gender identity. Then one day, at a moment when I was actively questioning my gender identity, Adam asked, "Have you ever questioned your gender identity?" And I screamed, "WHAT?!" because his timing was so uncanny.

From there I very quickly started using they/them pronouns. And I knew it was what felt right for me, but I was super nervous about being accepted by other trans people as Trans Enough. I decided to be brave and go to a meeting of a trans group on my college campus. When we went around the circle introducing ourselves, I told them my pronouns were they/them, adding, "That's the first time I've said that to anyone but my partner.”

Afterward, I nervously went up to the group leader (a binary trans woman) and said, "I hope it's okay that I was here." And she looked thoughtful and said, "Hmm. I don't know. I'll ask people and see if they were okay with it."

I went home crying. I'm totally fine now (this was 2017), and I only share this aspect of my coming out as an excuse to say: YOU ARE TRANS ENOUGH. If you don't exclusively identify as the gender you were assigned at birth, you are trans enough. People (especially in trans circles) are thankfully way more familiar with nonbinary as an identity now than they were in 2017, so I pray this doesn't happen as much now as it did then. But if it does (to any nonbinary person out there), please know that Sparkbird says you ARE indeed trans enough to go to the trans group.

Anyway that's a condensed version of my nonbinary story! 💚

[suburbonlegends]

Wanna hear some deranged ramblings about lighting and possible character arc reflections in them?

so every time I watch "Free Fall" and this shot comes up, I find myself fascinated by the lighting decision, and like yes the primary intentional point of it is to convey that they're meeting under this cover of darkness so stay hidden from view, but if we want to get fun and overly analytical about it 👀

Firstly let's get one thing clear: I'm gonna talk about "darkness" and "light" as characterizations, and by this I'm not talking about "evil" and "good." I don't think Peter is bad or evil in any way, and I don't think Neal is pure and good lmao. This is mostly a perspective of the moral gray area around legalities and the pursuit of justice the show later takes on

Anyway, let's start with the obvious: Peter's in the dark because he's only just now learning all the information that Neal is telling him about Fowler, he was metaphorically in the dark and Neal (the light) is now filling him in

But here's where I'll take a leap: This represents the beginning of turning to "the dark" to get things done aka doing things in ways that break rules and conventions that he typically would be really strict of for the sake of the better good. He knows, now, that Neal is innocent, but the "right way" to do things isn't working for this case. He has to help Neal to serve justice, and to help Neal he has to do things like Conceal a Criminal, and Aid and Abet. Peter shortly before this shot lets Neal escape and purposefully sends Fowler on a wild goose chase, telling him exactly the wrong information that we know Peter doesn't believe in from the Pilot:

Now, to me, this is the first time Peter starts actively breaking rules/laws/morals for the sake of both the greater good/justice and just, plainly, for Neal. You could argue that he does this in "The Portrait" but I feel like that exists more in a grey area because of the facts that he doesn't know Neal stole it and that Neal comes to him with a plan of how to use the painting in a way that works within Peter's guidelines. Peter isn't actively breaking any of these himself, he's just kind of ignoring the fact that Neal did something and letting it play out in his favor. In "Free Fall" though is when Peter starts becoming an active participator in these choices. Peter let Neal run, and now he's coated in darkness.

Neal's perspective is a little more vague and less about direct choice happening in this episode, more so just his general character arc. It’s the light of “good” shining on him, guiding him. He’s spent so many years up to this point truly believing that his core is rotted out, that his blood is the blood of a criminal. But here there’s the small light of “good” is placed over him and him alone. In an episode where he’s being framed as the criminal, where everyone, even Peter, didn’t believe in him, Neal’s inner “good” light is still shinning.

On top of that, Peter’s shadow is literally apart of Neal’s light. There’s two ways to view this: 1) Peter is the one guiding Neal’s light, casting that light of “good” over him. 2) It’s Peter’s “dark side” meeting Neal’s “good side.” It’s a metaphysical representation of the gray area between “good” and “bad” that the two are going to create. I flip back and forth between which of these interpretations I think are “more important,” but in this moment I think the representation of Peter and Neal’s gray zone, of them meeting in the middle between light and dark so that they can, overall, do good and put away the bad guys is the winner.

Anyway the lighting in this scene and the possible metaphors make me feral and I hope I infected others 😂

[michimars-room]

All wrapped up in embers, it was a night to remember...

with Rui Mizuki ♡ part 2

part 1 <- here.

a/n: this 🌶 idea for Rui has been stuck in my mind and now i finally can share with the world... hope you all enjoy ♡

1.4k wc

MDNI ❌️ ❗️❗️❗️❗️

Rui couldn't help this mind from wandering into that territory he forbade himself from since becoming cursed. It was inevitable. Seeing that look on your face, so erotic, humming throughout each bite of dessert. A wave of satisfaction rolled over him. You couldn’t help but notice Rui starting to become fidgety in his seat.

“mmm, Rui?” you hummed out, “are you okay?” Your voice snapped him back into the present moment.

“Just daydreaming about you princess... I wish I could touch you.” His words lit a fire within you, especially with the way his eyes flicked between your eyes and your lips. He let out a playful laugh hearing your reaction, a breathy intake of air, you squirming at his words. "You've got a little something here,” he pointed to the corner of your mouth, his tongue slightly darting out and teasing you with a wink. Your face now fully flushed from his flirting, you grabbed the napkin and wiped the chocolate off quickly. Changing the subject to quell the overwhelming neediness arising within you, you recollected yourself as best as you could. “What does my prince have in mind for the night… or planned for this weekend?”

“I thought you'd never ask sweetheart! I'll meet you inside after cleaning up. Wait for me upstairs in the 3rd guest room, you'll see,” he sent you off with a sweet smile and another wink. Complying with his wishes, you hurried up inside, eager to find what else he had planned. Rui loved to keep you guessing, no two dates would ever be the same. As you rounded the stairs you passed Ed's room, then Lyca's,… then finally the 3rd guest room. Pushing the door open, your jaw dropped, awestruck by Rui's decorations. Similar to the extravagant garden dinner date, he had obviously put in quite a bit of time into preparing the intimate atmosphere. Tall jars filled with water, flower petals and floating candles with flickering flames on the console table and bureau. Photos scattered about beside the candles, some candids you've taken of each other, couple poses, all of which are his favorites. Running your fingers over each photo, you were flooded with memories. Scattered rose petals covered the bed, a box sat directly in the middle with a note written in cursive on the front Open Me… ~ You flipped it open, The choice is always yours, princess xoxo Rui~

You eagerly flipped the lid off of the large white box open to reveal two slightly smaller presents, a pink one and a blue one… leave it to Rui to get you riled up with his never-ending surprises.

Cards were taped to the top of both.

You anxiously tugged the card, starting with the blue one; Princess, put this on for a weekend of relaxation and pampering!♡ A blue oversized hoodie folded neatly in the box you pulled it out running your hand across the velvety fabric. You shifted your focus over to the pink card and flipped it over. Princess, put this on if you would like to take the next step… Your eyes are drawn immediately to the pink lingerie set. Inside, was a delicate lace bralette, partially sheer cups decorated with flower embroidery with matching panties. The set was completed by a simple garter belt.

Hearing the clanking of dishes being put away, you hastily changed your clothes.

With impeccable timing, Rui gently knocked 3 times on the door. “Come in!” You called out, not leaving the bed.

Rui peeked around the door before stepping inside and closing it behind him.

“Sorry for leaving you waiting princess,” Rui beamed at the sight of you sitting on the bed in just the oversize plush hoodie he gifted. “I can't wait to spoil you rotten this weekend, You deserve it and so so so much more, my love.” Rui moved to sit at the edge of the bed, shrugging off his jacket. “You never fail to surprise me on our dates…” You locked eyes with him, a fire lit behind them. Rui was entranced, keenly watching you. “Teasing me so much… it's not fair, Rui.”

Curling your fingers around the hem of the hoodie, you smirked as crimson crept up his neck and overtook his face. In a painstakingly slow fashion, you made a show of pulling the hoodie over your head tossing it across the room revealing his other gift, you in the pink lingerie set. His tongue darted out, lips slick with salvia, god he wanted to touch you, taste you, savor and worship every part of you.

Rui turned to mush, babbling out a stream of compliments. Just those actions rendered him a mess. It's been so very long since he's even thought about being intimate like this with someone, let alone his gorgeous partner.

God, he felt like pinching himself, to convince himself he wasn't just dreaming. That you were sitting there, equally as eager. “Princess, are you sure you want to?” He choked out, his cock straining so tightly within the confines of his pants.

“Rui, PLEASE don't tease me anymore tonight,” you whined in reply, not even awaiting any instructions before dipping two fingers into your sopping pussy. “You drive me insane…” You moaned out, curling your fingers trying to reach that heavenly spot within your walls. Rocking your hips you fucked yourself on your fingers while Rui watched transfixed, drinking in your sweet needy gasps and slick fingers disappearing. Rui fumbled while removing his constricting clothing, freeing his angry leaking cock, nearly cumming untouched only from watching you. His eyes never left your body, he dragged his fingers to spread the precum leaking from the tip down, moving his hand and working himself in sync with your fingers. He only just started stroking himself but all the pent of energy and the sight of your eyes fluttering shut, silently shaking had him reaching his high and cumming right alongside you. Both of you panted heavily in unison, mirroring each other's lustful expressions. Rui swiftly reached down and grabbed yet another box, this one fairly large. His hands were shaking as he nervously opened the box revealing two toys, a fleshlight and the other a vibrator. “I, um… did some research online and found this, it can connect to our phones and it syncs up our movements.. It's not perfect but it's-” Rui hurriedly explained the mechanics of the toys, powering them on, before you cut in with shining eyes, “so when I use the vibrator, you can feel it inside that?”

He nodded eagerly, sliding the vibrator over to you. “It also works if we're apart too.” It was a new experience for both of you, remote synced toys, but a welcome one nonetheless. “Are you ready my love?” He tentatively asked. “Yes.” Rui guided you both, watching each other's speed, his cock sliding slowly into the fleshlight at the same pace as you did the same with the head of the vibrator. Rui's entire body shook at the feeling, although it was a toy- the walls moved, mimicking your fluttering walls as he watched you fuck the vibrator slowly, your cunt greedily taking it in. “Princess, you're doing so well… taking it so so so good. God you're incredible.”

Rui thrusted into his toy faster, rotating it around his cock quickly. The vibrator inside you immediately matched his speed, the tip of the vibrator rotating quickly. The intensity of the pulses in your core returned the favor, constricting his cock tightly as you both came hard. Drunk on the feeling and with Rui's never ending stamina, he kept a relentless pace fucking himself up into the toy. “Please princess, please please, you can give me another right. My good girl, god you're perfect.” You were too fucked out to keep up with him now, your hands fell from the vibrator and tangled in the sheets, grasping at something, anything, desperate to ground yourself. The vibrator’s tip stayed in your pulsating walls, rotating furiously in time with Rui. Incoherent moans and words fell from your lips, chanting Rui's name over and over again, begging him to cum again. With one final thrust, you followed right after, cumming hard your eyes fluttered closed. As Rui slipped the toy off gently and the vibrations inside you slowed as well.

“That was incredible my love…” Careful to not touch you, he slid the vibrator out from between your legs and cleaned both before putting them away.

“mhm, I love you Rui…” You hummed out contentedly.

“I love you too, my princess.”

♡♡♡♡

[strwbrrychnnie]

hiii! can i request for a top!male manager/reader x bang chan and han jisung? preferably with double pen OR spitroasting scene, you can decide who gets to bottom as long as M reader is one of the tops (or both of the members trying to fight who bottoms bcs they like reader’s dick but only one gets to bottom)

thank you!! im glad there’s one more M!reader writer here 😞

< under you >

pairing:: bang chan x han jisung x top!male manager reader genre:: smut, slow burn (if ur used to it getting straight to the point) word count:: 10238 summary:: you’re skz’s main manager. they’ve secretly all been pining for you, chan and jisung more than the rest. after you tease chan a little too much one night, it all comes to light. warnings:: smut !!! chan is pathetic. puppy chan. spitroasting. unprotected sex. praise. misuse of honorifics ++ age dynamic. crying . light bondage . notes:: i am SO sorry. this request has been collecting dust in my inbox for almost a full year and i finally finished it. i hope this is worth the wait<3 i love the likes, but if you guys have any comments feel free to share :3 i love the little notes you guys left on the last one

3RACHA overwork. You know this. They know this. The past couple of weeks, while they’ve supposed to be on break, the three producers have been grinding away in the studio. You’re worried about them– especially Chan, who will stay in the studio until the sun rises. So you’re sitting back on the couch, in Chan's studio, making sure the three boys don’t work too hard.

Chan’s focused, his brow furrowed and his lips pulled into a tight pout as he messes with the demos. Jisung’s sitting next to you, typing lyrics on his phone as Chan plays the tracks out loud. Changbin, sitting on the ground against Chan's desk, groans at a text.

“Agh, god.” Changbin stands up, stretching his arms. “I forgot I made plans with Hyune tonight. Can you guys deal without me?” You hold back a laugh and Chan leans back in his chair, looking at Changbin upside down.

“Yeah, we’ll be fine. Have fun with your wife.” Chan smiles and Jisung giggles. Changbin flicks Chan’s forehead and unplugs his charger.

“You’re just jealous, hyung.” Changbin sticks out his tongue, walking towards the door and ruffling Jisung's hair. “Bye, Sungie.”

“Bye, hyung.” Jisung reaches up and squeezes Changbin’s hand. Changbin opens the door and walks out, shutting the door behind him. Chan pauses the track and stretches his arms high over his head, his shirt riding up to reveal a sliver of his abs.

“Well, I think we’ve made a lot of progress today. My brain’s starting to go numb.” Chan sighs, making a groaning noise that ignites a flame deep inside your stomach. You tongue the inside of your cheek, staring intently at the exposed sliver of Chan’s pale skin. You shake it off, taking a deep breath, looking up at Chan's face.

“You all have done really well today,” you slowly work through your words. “Don’t stress about it, you can get back to it tomorrow if that’s what you want to spend your free time on.” Chan spins around in his chair, giving a dismissive wave of his hand.

“Don’t worry about me. I'm not stressed, just a little tired. I'm going to stay here and work on some other tracks, in case you want to stick around. Jisungie?” Jisung perks up, looking up from his phone.

“Yeah, I'm gonna stay. I like the company.” Jisung looks over at you, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Y/Nie hyung?” You smile, patting Jisung's thigh.

“I'll stay. As long as I'm not a bother.” Chan shakes his head, smiling shyly.

“You could never be a bother, Y/Nie hyung. You know that.” Chan says softly, stretching again. This time his shirt rides up even higher, revealing more of his skin. “Agghh. I've been sitting for too long. That feels good.” Chan stands up, closing his eyes and stretching his legs out. You huff, averting your eyes.

“Stretching? Or do you just like showing your skin, Chan?” You stare off to the side of Chan. He blushes and glances down, not having realized that his shirt had ridden up.

“Ah– sorry. I didn't mean– sorry.” Chan yanks his shirt down, hiding away that tantalizing strip of skin. You chuckle, running a hand through your hair.

“No worries. You’re okay.” It's cute, you think. He's so confident on stage, stripping every other performance, but he blushes when his stomach shows accidentally around friends. Chan rubs the back of his neck, sitting back down. He has a small, embarrassed smile on his face and his ears are bright red. Chan clears his throat, turning back around in his chair.

“Right. Well. Let’s get back to work, yeah?” Chan’s voice wavers, his face hidden from you. Jisung looks between you and Chan, a smirk growing on his face. You glare at him playfully, warning him to keep his mouth shut. Jisung chuckles and raises his hands in defeat, shooting a knowing smile at you. You flip him off behind Chan’s back and Jisung bursts out into a giggling fit, slapping your hand down.

Jisung hops up, kneeling down next to Chan and pointing at a track on Chan’s laptop. “Hyung, what’s this one?” Your interest is piqued, looking up over Chan’s shoulder to see Jisung pointing to a file called ‘Under You.’ You can see Chan visibly stiffen, his ears blushing pink.

“Ah, that’s– that’s just something I've been working on for fun. I won't make it a Stray Kids song. It’s not finished, but it’s coming along okay, I think.” He turns slightly to face Jisung, and you can see the side of his face. Chan slightly glances your way, then looks back to his laptop, biting his bottom lip.

Your body heats up– a song called ‘Under You,’ at the mention of which Chan looked at you immediately. Your thoughts are racing a million miles a minute, and Jisung voices those thoughts without hesitation.

“Just for fun? Sounds like another ‘Railway,’ hm?” Jisung teases, pinching Chan’s cheek. Chan hisses, slapping Jisung’s hand away, squirming in his seat.

“No, I mean– no. I was just messing around with some samples and throwing some lyrics together. It’s not about anyo– it’s not about anything in particular.” Chan babbles, closing the tab of his demos.

“There's already lyrics, hyung?” Jisung giggles. “Come on, we HAVE to hear it now.” You sit up, crossing your arms over your chest.

“C’mon, Channie. Sungie wants to hear it.” You want to hear it, too, but you won’t openly admit that. Chan hesitates, glancing back at you from the corner of his eye before looking back at his laptop. He takes a deep breath, opening the tab back up. With the click of a button, the demo plays.

The song is slow and sensual– it sounds like a copy of ‘Railway,’ practically. But Chan’s voice comes in, soft and breathy. You can’t make out most of the lyrics because of the vocal effects and how quiet his voice is, but his tone is downright sinful. It sounds like he’s on his knees, pleading for– 

You close your eyes, making fists with your hands. Stop. You can’t be thinking this way about the man who practically employs you. You open your eyes to see Jisung looking between you and Chan, holding back a giggle. Chan’s gaze is trained on his laptop screen, a faint blush creeping up on the back of his neck, stopping the song after not even a full minute. The room falls silent as Chan hesitantly turns to face Jisung, avoiding your gaze. You tilt your head to the side, looking up at Chan’s reddening face.

“Another explicit song, mm?” You chuckle. “It's good! I like it. Though I don't listen to songs like it often.” Chan laughs awkwardly, reaching up to tug at his ear.

“Ah, yeah, thanks. Like I said, it’s not about anyo– anything in particular, just experimenting with the track.” He looks back at his computer, very obviously ignoring the way you’re devouring him with your eyes.

You hum. “Sure, Channie.” A beat of silence passes before Jisung speaks up, gently pushing and pulling Chan’s shoulder.

“Oh, come on, hyung, it’s so OBVIOUSLY about Y/Nie hyung.” You choke on air, hiding your eyes with your hand. A strangled noise escapes Chan’s throat, his face burning as he glares at Jisung.

“I swear to god, Jisung, I’ll end you if you don’t shut the fuck up–” Chan slaps Jisung’s shoulder as he attempts to block the hits. You smile, chewing the inside of your cheek as you look at Chan’s back. As soon as you stand up, Chan stops hitting Jisung, hearing your steps move closer to him. You gently place your hands on Chan’s shoulders and he freezes, his breath hitching in his throat.

“Channie,” you whisper, softly massaging Chan’s tensed shoulders. “Turn around.”

Chan slowly turns around in his chair, the room dead silent as the chair squeaks beneath him. You look down at Chan, your hands moving to the sides of Chan’s shoulders.

“Is the song about me, Chan?” You ask softly, rubbing circles with your thumbs into Chan’s skin. Chan hesitates, his eyes meeting yours for a moment before quickly flickering down. His mouth opens and closes as he struggles to find the right words. He breathes out a small response, but you can’t make it out. You move one hand off Chan’s shoulder, tilting up Chan’s chin. “Mm? I didn’t catch that.”

Chan’s cheeks flush a deep red, looking up at your face. He repeats himself with a small pout on his lips, barely above a whisper. “Yes. It’s about you, sir.”

Jisung giggles. “I knew it.” You narrow your eyes at him and he shuts up, his eyes widening as his lips close tight. You turn back to Chan, scratching under his chin.

“You two have talked about me, haven’t you? About this?” Chan glances at Jisung, chewing on his lip.

“Y-Yeah. Yeah. We've talked about you before.” Chan whispers, looking down at your chest to avoid your eyes. “God, this is so embarrassing,” he groans, bringing a hand up to massage the bridge of his nose. You shake your head, kneeling down in front of Chan. You place a hand on Chan’s knee and the other on Jisung’s thigh. Chan gulps, looking down at you with blown pupils as Jisung stops breathing.

“It's okay. Thank you for being honest with me.” You squeeze Chan’s knee, turning to look at Jisung. “Sungie, have you thought about me in that way, too?” Jisung blinks blankly, just now remembering to breathe and nearly hyperventilating.

“Uhm… yeah. Yes, sir. I have.” He stutters, biting his bottom lip.

“Good. Thank you for being honest with me, too.” You smile, looking back to Chan. “Channie. It's okay. Really. Look at me.” Chan nods, chewing his bottom lip, eyes meeting yours. You pout teasingly, tracing patterns into Chan’s knee. “You look adorable. I've never seen you like this.”

Chan turns even more red, if possible, spluttering. He tries to compose himself as he blinks rapidly, shaking his head. “D-don’t say things like that, hyung.”

“Mhm? You don’t like it?” You stand up, lifting Chan’s chin up only to take your hand away, stepping back to sit on the couch. “Okay. Then I'll stop.”

Crestfallen, Chan’s eyes follow your hand as it leaves his chin and Jisung whines pathetically at the loss on his thigh. Chan pouts, reaching his hand slightly out to you. “Y/Nie hyung, please–” You tilt your head to the side, crossing your arms.

“Please, what? Use your words.” Chan whines, shifting around in his seat awkwardly. Jisung watches Chan with bated breath as Chan looks up at you with puppy dog eyes.

“You’re m-mean. I want… you to keep saying nice things to me.” Chan whispers.

You smile, looking at Jisung. “Have you ever seen him like this, Sungie?” Jisung shakes his head, eyes wide and amused. He's slowly getting back into a solid headspace.

“Never. He's always so dominant, maybe a little shy sometimes. But this is… wild.” You nod, leaning back, patting the couch next to you.

“Come sit with me, Jisung.” Jisung scrambles up, plopping down next to you. Chan watches you two, silently fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. You lay your arm on the cushion of the couch behind Jisung, your hand draped over Jisung’s shoulder. “Channie looks so cute, doesn’t he?” Jisung nuzzles into your arm, smiling at Chan.

“Yeah. He’s always been cute, but… this is a whole new side of him.” You nod, looking at Chan, who’s pouting and looking at the two of you on the couch with pleading eyes. 

“Need something, baby?” Chan squeaks at the pet name, looking away with a huff.

“Stop it, hyung. You’re teasing me.”

“I'll give you what you want if you tell me what it is, sweetheart.” Chan whimpers again, sticking out his bottom lip and looking between you and Jisung. He squirms, biting down hard on his lip.

“I just– I wanna be held, hyung. I wanna–” He cuts himself off, flushing an even deeper shade of red. You chuckle, setting your legs together and patting your lap.

“C’mere, sweet boy.” Chan’s cheeks heat up, his eyes blown wide as he slowly stands up and walks over. He hesitantly sits in your lap, straddling your legs, wrapping his arms around your neck. You smile down at Chan, still towering over him even when he’s sitting in your lap. You wrap an arm around his waist, holding him close. “Hi, pretty.” Jisung sits a little closer, running his hand down Chan’s back. Chan buries his face in your neck, whining softly. He shifts on your lap, clearly flustered. You chuckle, bringing your hand up to caress the nape of Chan’s neck while you bring Jisung closer, wrapping your arm around his shoulders. “You’re so cute, Channie.”

Chan mumbles something into your shoulder, too flustered to say anything more than some form of gibberish. He shivers under you and Jisung’s touches, burying his face in your shoulder. You hum, playing with Chan’s hair. “Sungie, you know what I think?” Jisung tilts his head, looking at Chan on your lap.

“No, hyung. Enlighten me.” 

“I think we should give our wonderful leader some much-needed stress relief, what do you think?” You whisper against Chan’s neck, making him shudder. Jisung giggles, petting Chan’s hair.

“Mhm. Hyung’s been working so hard for us, he must be so pent up.” Jisung whispers, twirling Chan’s curls around his finger. You softly kiss Chan’s neck to be met with a wonderful whimper from Chan’s lips.

“Wanna tell me and Sungie what exactly you were talking about in your song, mm?” You whisper, running your hand down Chan’s back. “Something about being under me?” A soft whine escapes Chan’s lips as his hips twitch against yours.

“H-hyung, please–” You snap your arm down to wrap around Chan’s waist tightly, holding him in place.

“Ah, ah,” you scold. “No moving. Tell me what the song is about, pretty.” Chan whimpers and you lean in, your breath ghosting over his neck. “Maybe I can make it happen, Channie.”

Chan whines again, his arms tightening around your shoulders as he clings to you. He turns his head to the side, away from you, eyes fluttering shut as he feels your warm breath on his neck. “I–It’s about you being… above me… holding me, pinning me.” You smile, curling a strand of Chan’s hair around your finger.

“Yeah?” You lessen your grip on Chan’s waist, gently setting your hand on the small of his back. “All I'm doing is pinning you down? Nothing else?” Chan relaxes in your hold but flushes red at your question. He buries his face in your shoulder, trying to form a coherent sentence.

“N-no, it’s… other things, too… other things I want you to do… to me.” He whispers so quietly that you’re certain Jisung couldn’t hear.

“Tell me, baby. Sungie and I won't judge, yeah?” You look over to Jisung, narrowing your eyes as if to say ‘agree, or else.’ Jisung nods quickly, running his fingers through Chan’s hair.

“We won’t judge, hyung. We wanna make you relax, okay?” Jisung plays with Chan’s hair as Chan whines, nuzzling further into your shoulder.

“Exactly. It’s okay, Channie baby, you’re safe here. What do you want me to do to you, sweet boy?” Chan sighs shakily, gripping your shirt tightly.

“I want you to… touch me, take control. I want, I want–” He cuts himself off as you feel his face physically get hotter to the touch. “I can't say it, hyung. You know what I want. Please don’t make me say it…”

You move your arm from around Jisung’s shoulders to cup Chan’s face with both hands, lifting it up gently. You caress his cheeks, looking him in the eye. “Channie, I'm not trying to mess with you or make you any more embarrassed than you already are. I just want you to tell me explicitly what you want, because I don't want to overstep or overwhelm you.” Chan melts, his eyes softening and his lips forming a small pout. “Please tell me, sweet boy.” A breathy whine leaves Chan’s lips as you call him sweet names, falling apart in your hands. He looks up into your eyes, his gaze flickering down to your lap. 

“I want you to fuck me, hyung. Please.”

You smile, gently squeezing Chan’s cheeks together to make him pout. You let go, ignoring Chan’s needy whine as you place your hands securely on his hips. “There you go. Wasn’t so bad, was it?” Chan shakes his head, looking at Jisung, leaning into his hand as Jisung ruffles his hair.

“S-Sungie, help me please, I’m…” You laugh, also looking over at Jisung. He smiles, chuckling as his hands trail down Chan’s back to tease under his shirt, rubbing circles into the small of Chan’s back. Chan shudders, leaning in to press his face to your shoulder. “Jisung–” Chan’s voice cracks as Jisung presses his lips to Chan’s neck, softly trailing kisses down to his shoulder.

“What, baby? You’ve gotta learn to use your words.” Jisung whispers, licking Chan’s jaw. A moan escapes Chan’s lips, his head falling back to give Jisung more room. His thighs squeeze around your waist and you chuckle, trailing a hand down to squeeze his thigh.

“I need you…” Chan whispers, eyes squeezed shut from overstimulation.

“Mm? You want us both, pretty?” You whisper, petting Chan’s thigh. Chan nods, letting out a soft whimper.

“Yes, please, so bad, I can’t– I–” Chan can’t form a coherent thought as you start kissing the other side of Chan’s neck, both you and Jisung covering his neck with your lips. Chan shakes, leaning further into your shoulder to let you and Jisung cover his neck with kisses. “Please– oh, god, hyungs, please…” You chuckle, leaving a long kiss to his neck.

“Hyungs?” Jisung giggles, gently yanking Chan’s hair back. Chan whimpers, letting Jisung pull him back. “Am I your hyung now, Channie?” Chan’s eyes widen, his face burning as he quickly squeezes his eyes shut as he realizes what he let slip.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean– I didn’t–” Chan stutters and you laugh, kissing Chan’s cheek.

“It's okay, baby, it’s cute.” You assure him, petting the small of his back. “Yeah? What do you think, Jisung?” Jisung smiles, nodding as he continues to nip at Chan’s neck.

“Yeah. It's cute. It’s very cute, Channie.” Jisung presses a long kiss to Chan’s jaw. Chan whimpers, digging his fingers into your shirt, holding on for dear life. He desperately bucks his hips against your abdomen, searching for some type of friction.

“Shh, don’t move, baby.” You whisper into Chan’s neck, holding his hips securely. “We’re gonna take our time loving on you.” A breathy whimper escapes Chan as you hold him, stilling his hips.

“Hyungs, p-please, I need…” Chan whines as you press your lips to his shoulder, humming for him to continue. You can feel him growing against your stomach as you smile against his skin, pulling back to tap on Jisung’s thigh.

“Our baby has a little problem, Sungie.” You caress Chan’s hip, looking at Jisung with a small smile. Jisung flushes, pulling away from Chan’s neck to look down.

“Look at you… already so desperate for us, Channie.” Jisung trails off, resting his hand on Chan’s inner thigh. Chan gasps, his legs tightening around you. You chuckle, looking between the two.

“You both have done this before, haven’t you?” Jisung chuckles, closing one eye and pursing his lips together, pretending to think.

“Maybe… once, or twice…” You scoff, squeezing Jisung’s thigh a little too hard. He buckles, his mouth falling open in a groan.

“Don’t lie. Tell me.” You scold as Chan wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your chest.

“I've lost count,” Chan whispers into your chest. “But it’s not new to us.” Jisung nods, the hand under Chan’s shirt trailing up his back.

“He's always in control, though.” Jisung caresses Chan’s back. “He’s so dominant, usually. It’s… nice, seeing him like this.” You lift your hand to Jisung’s face, holding his chin up.

“Had experience yourself, being dominant?” You ask softly as Jisung blinks, shifting under your touch as he meets your gaze.

“I, um… I’ve tried it, but… not really.” Jisung bites his bottom lip, looking down, his cheeks flushing pink. You run your thumb over Jisung’s chin, looking between him and Chan on your lap.

“What am I gonna do with you two…” You trail off, gently petting Chan’s thigh.

“Hyung, please…” Chan shifts in your lap, whining. You squeeze Chan's hip, moving your hand from Jisung’s chin down to Chan’s other hip.

“Yes, Channie?” You look down at Chan, holding him in place.

Chan huffs, looking up at you with pupils blown wide. “You know what, hyung.” You chuckle, kissing Chan’s forehead.

“Okay, okay. Channie’s needy. We need to take care of that first.” You give in and Chan nods quickly, trying to get even closer to you. He holds your shoulders like a lifeline as he fights against your strong grip to grind down.

“Please, please, it hurts…” Chan whines quietly and you kiss his cheeks softly.

“I'm sorry, I'll stop teasing. Can you stand up for me, sweetheart?” You ask softly, letting your hands fall down to Chan’s thighs. Chan slowly stands, his legs shaking beneath him. He holds your shoulders desperately, looking down at you with pleading eyes. You stand up, taking his hands to hold him up, towering over him once you’re fully standing. You cup his cheek, rubbing your thumb into his skin. “Jisung, go lock the door.”

Jisung scrambles off the couch and nearly trips over his own feet twice to lock the door. Chan blinks up at you, nuzzling into your hand on his cheek. You drop your hands down to Chan’s shoulders, caressing them gently. “Go lay on the couch, however you’re most comfortable,” you softly command him to move.

Chan takes a shaky step towards the couch and sinks down, laying on his back, his head propped against the armrest. He stares up at you with clouded eyes, his cheeks flushed. You smile down at him, slowly parting his legs to place your thigh between them, hovering on top of him. You place your hands on either side of Chan’s head, caging him below you on the couch.

“This is what you wanted, yeah? To be under me?” You coo, running your thumb over Chan’s cheek. He whines, nodding desperately as he wraps his legs around your leg. He rolls his hips up, grinding his aching problem against your thigh.

“Please. Please.” Chan whimpers, clinging onto your shirt tightly. You chuckle, leaning down, kissing Chan’s neck. Chan starts panting, one hand gripping the arm of the couch above him to ground himself, his head thrown back. You trail your hands down Chan’s hard chest, tugging up the hem of Chan’s shirt. “Take it off, please. Please, hyung.” Chan begs and you peck Chan’s jaw, giving him space.

“Up, baby. Help me take it off,” you ask Chan gently, only one hand beside Chan’s head. He nods, sitting up and raising his arms over his head. He watches you with dark eyes as you pull his shirt up and over his chest, tossing it off to the side. Jisung picks up the shirt and gently folds it, setting it on Chan’s desk. Chan blushes deep red, bringing his arms down to attempt to cover his chest. You run a hand down his pale, toned body, intentionally rubbing against his small yet hard nipples. He shivers, his head falling back again with the exhalation of a soft whine. “So pretty, Channie,” you whisper, kissing Chan’s cheek softly. He shoots his hands up, trying to grab at your shirt to pull it off, too. You tsk, taking Chan’s wrists into your hand, pinning them above Chan’s head. “Hands to yourself.”

Chan whines, nodding with a pout as he lets you pin his hands down. He squirms, trying to create friction to relieve himself of the intense pressure. “Please, hyung…” You sigh, looking over at Jisung, unsurprised to find his shirt discarded, as well.

“Is there anything in here to keep Chan’s hands tied, Sung?” Jisung nods eagerly, scrambling over to the desk and opening the drawer, pulling out a long piece of black fabric. You laugh, taking it from Jisung’s hand. “Wow, holy shit. Is this from Red Lights?” You run your thumb over the silky fabric. “It's like you cut off a piece of the huge tethers.” Jisung chuckles, sitting on the opposite arm of the couch.

“Yeah. Seemed like a useful thing to take as a souvenir.” Jisung smiles, leaning against the back of the couch.

“Kinky.” You look back down to Chan, gently wrapping the fabric around Chan’s wrists. You tie them together, testing the knot to make sure it’s secure but not too tight. “Is this okay? Does it hurt?” You whisper, caressing Chan’s wrist. Chan shakes his head, gently trying to pull his hands out to no luck.

“No, no, it’s good, just tight enough…” He tries to pull at it again, his face scrunching up as the fabric digs into his wrists. “Please– touch me– do something, anything…” Chan begs and you melt, kissing his cheek.

“Okay. God, there’s just no room,” You groan, looking back at Jisung. “I want you involved, Sungie, but I don't know how.” Jisung gets up and kneels beside Chan’s face, petting his hair.

“Mm, I could help you out, hyung, or…” Jisung runs his thumb over Chan’s bottom lip, making his hyung whine. “Or I could give him something else to think about.” You smile, looking down at Chan’s blown out eyes.

“Channie, you want Sungie to keep your mouth busy?” You pet Chan’s cheek and he immediately nods, opening his mouth to lick at Jisung’s thumb.

“Please, please.” Chan whimpers breathlessly as you start to trail kisses down Chan’s chest, settling between his legs. You kiss his waistband, gently tugging it lower to kiss Chan’s v-line. Chan moans softly, rolling his hips up towards your face, his eyes fluttering shut as Jisung traces Chan’s lips with his thumb. You lick at Chan’s v-line then freeze, groaning against Chan’s skin.

“Fuck.” You lift your head up, looking Chan in the eye. He whines at the loss of contact and you soothe him by petting his abs. “Is there lube in here?” Chan nods, his eyes squeezing shut.

“Yeah, yeah, there’s some in… the bottom drawer, I think.” He softly answers, his wrists struggling against the fabric. You lean back down, kissing Chan’s stomach.

“Sungie?” You whisper, caressing Chan’s hips as you kiss all over his skin. Jisung pulls away from Chan’s face to look through the drawer, pulling out a small bottle of lube.

“Got it, now what?” Jisung hands you the bottle and kneels back down next to Chan. You take the bottle and place it next to you on the couch, kissing Chan’s abs again.

“Do whatever you want with Chan. I've got to prep him.” Jisung smiles, nodding as he kisses Chan’s cheek.

“Hyung–” Chan whimpers. Jisung chuckles, running his fingers through Chan’s curls, pulling them back to expose Chan’s neck. 

Jisung kisses and nips at his neck, mumbling against Chan’s skin. “Don’t worry, baby, I'm here now.” Jisung nibbles Chan’s jawline, trailing up to kiss his soft lips. You smile, watching them, as you gently pull Chan’s shorts down. Chan, entranced in the kiss, still manages to lift his hips a little to let you slip off his shorts. You coo, kissing the waistband of Chan’s boxers.

“Good boys.” You gently rub Chan’s length through his boxers, kissing around his belly button. Chan rolls his hips up again, a breathy moan escaping his lips as he pulls against the fabric, whimpering.

“Hyung, please…” He whines helplessly, trying his hardest to break free.

“Yes, baby?” You kiss the tip of Chan’s cock through the fabric, smiling against it as you feel him twitch under you. Chan shudders, his breathing quickening, as he pulls against the fabric tying his hands together hard enough to bruise. Jisung stops him, holding his hands together, rubbing his thumbs over Chan’s red wrists.

“Y/Nie hyung, please, stop teasing, I need you, need it, please–” You concede, pulling down Chan’s boxers, softly wrapping your hand around his aching cock as he gasps.

“You’re right, I'm sorry, you’ve been so good for us. I won't tease anymore.” You apologize, stroking the base slowly as you pepper kisses to the tip. Chan keens, pressing his head back into the couch with all his strength.

“Thank you, oh god, thank you, feels so good, thank you–” Chan whimpers, babbling as he leaks precum against your lips. You hum, licking the release as you kiss down his length, spreading Chan’s legs a little wider. Chan whimpers, watching you with a heavy gaze as he tries to hold back his whines. Jisung kisses down Chan’s jaw, pulling back his hair to bury his face in Chan’s neck. He stops at Chan’s collarbone, sucking softly then biting down. Chan gasps, head shooting up. “Sungie, no marks, please,” Chan panics, stumbling over his words. Jisung sighs, licking Chan’s collarbone instead of sucking and biting.

You smile, watching the two as you gently stroke Chan’s length, trailing kisses down his taint. He tries his best to hold back his whines, failing miserably. You chuckle, taking your hands away from Chan’s cock to pour a little lube onto your fingers. Pressing your clean hand against Chan’s thigh to hold him down, you gently tease Chan’s entrance with a lubed finger, tracing circles around the rim. Chan shivers, lifting his hips in a wordless plea for you to hurry. He bites his lip as Jisung licks over his nipple and you press your fingertip inside him, a needy shudder running down his spine. You kiss the side of Chan’s length, licking down to the base as you press your finger all the way in.

Chan gasps, his dick twitching under your tongue. “Hyung, fuck– oh my god.” He whimpers, looking at Jisung with teary eyes. “Sungie…” Jisung lifts his head from Chan’s chest and brings him in for a kiss, swallowing Chan’s needy whimpers as you curl and pump your finger into Chan’s hole. Once Chan’s whimpers die down a bit, you slick up a second finger and push it in slowly, to let him adjust. Chan moans, breaking his kiss with Jisung to focus on breathing, his fists clenching together. “Please– more–”

You curl your fingers up, kissing along Chan’s thigh as Jisung swallows Chan’s whimpers while you hit his prostate. He clenches his thighs around your hand as your fingers speed up. “Please, please, I'm sorry, I need more, please…” Chan whimpers and whines as Jisung pulls away. Jisung looks down at you between Chan’s thighs as you kiss his thighs. Jisung wraps his hand around Chan’s dick, gently rubbing the tip.

“Hyung,” Jisung nudges you and you lift your head from Chan’s thigh to meet his gaze. “Can I suck him off?” His words instantly go to your dick, imagining him with Chan’s cock down his throat. It takes a couple seconds for you to come back to reality, quickly nodding.

“Yeah. please. I'm almost done, but it’s gonna hurt a little. Please distract him.” Jisung immediately drops next to Chan’s hips, stroking his drooling cock and licking the tip. Chan whimpers loud enough to surprise even himself, grimacing as he shuts his mouth tight. You chuckle, kissing Chan’s inner thigh. “It's okay, baby, let it out. It's late and the walls are thick. Don’t worry.” Chan nods, closing his eyes, throwing his head back. It’s too much, he decides, to see what Jisung and you are doing to him. He's better off with his eyes shut.

Jisung starts to bob his head, taking a little more of Chan’s length with every stroke of his head. Chan has to hold back a scream with how good he feels. He’d been sucked off, sure, but never had fingers inside him at the same time. Taking advantage of the pleasure Jisung’s giving Chan, you slowly push a third lubed finger into Chan, cooing as he grimaces. Chan lets out a loud moan and involuntarily bucks his hips up, accidentally shoving his cock further down Jisung’s throat without warning. Jisung gags, pulling off to catch his breath.

“S-Sorry, hyung, ‘m sorry–” Chan rambles, trying to sit up to look at Jisung apologetically. Jisung shakes his head, diving back in instead of responding. He swallows around Chan’s cock, closing his eyes and humming at the sweet taste. You smile, a familiar feeling pooling in your lower stomach as you press your lips to Chan’s thigh. Curling your three fingers up to hit Chan’s sweet spot again, you spread them out to stretch Chan open. He pulls hard at the fabric binding his wrists together, breathy whine after whine escaping his lips. Chan chokes back a sob as Jisung swallows around him and he squeezes his eyes shut. “Hyung– hyungs, please, let me go, let me touch,” Chan babbles as you pick your head up, stilling your fingers to let him speak. “I've been so good,” Chan hiccups. “Please let me touch, please, Y/Nie hyung, please…”

Having a massive soft spot for Chan, you give in immediately. You kiss a part of Chan’s length that’s not deep in Jisung’s throat and push your fingers in a little deeper, reaching up with your free hand to untie the fabric around Chan’s wrists. “There you go, I'm sorry, sweetheart. You’ve done so well.” You discard the fabric, gently rubbing the bright red marks on Chan’s wrists. Chan shakes his hands, rotating his wrists to get rid of the soreness.

“Thank you, hyung…” Chan trails off, eyes flitting between you and Jisung, who’s now looking up at Chan, licking the tip of Chan’s dick softly. Chan bites his bottom lip, reaching down to pet Jisung’s hair. “Off, wanna– need you. Wanna touch you. Been good, please.” He mumbles, trying to pull Jisung up. You pet Chan’s hair, slightly damp from his sweat.

“Baby, let us take care of you, okay? I haven't been prepping you for nothing.” Chan nods, sighing at your hand in his hair.

“Y-Yes, sir, okay. Please take care of me,” he whispers, sighing as your hand trails down his face to caress his cheek. Jisung takes Chan back into his mouth, swallowing loudly as he takes Chan fully down his throat. Chan yelps, unconsciously bucking his hips up further, squeezing his eyes shut. “Sungie–! Fuck–” He pants, his body going limp under Jisung’s mouth. You chuckle, patting Jisung’s head and gently lifting him up.

“Enough, Jisung. Give the poor boy a break.” You scold and Jisung pulls off Chan reluctantly, but not before giving the tip a small lick. He wipes the drool from his mouth with the back of his hand, looking up at you with a grin. Chan whimpers at the sudden loss of Jisung’s warmth around him. He lifts his head off the back of the couch, eyes flitting between you and Jisung.

“H–Hyungs…” he trails off, his brain fried. You pet Chan’s hair, moving the strands out from in front of his eyes.

“I know, I know,” you whisper, gentle and soft. “We'll give you what you want. How do you want me, sweetheart?” Chan stares up at you with wide eyes, chewing his bottom lip.

“I– I don't care– doggy? Missionary? Please… I just want you.” Chan whines, leaning forward into your hand. You hum, ruffling Chan’s hair softly.

“You decide, sweet boy. I'll do whatever you want. Do you want to see me or Sungie when I’m fucking you?” Chan looks down at his lap, chewing his lip again. He looks back up between you and Jisung.

“I wanna… I wanna see you, Y/Nie hyung… but…” Chan pouts. “I wanna hear Sungie. Is that… okay?” You smile, leaning down and kissing his nose. He giggles, squeezing his eyes shut.

“Sungie's not going anywhere. You’ll hear him just fine.” Chan nods, wrapping his arms around your neck to pull you down for a kiss. He hums softly into your mouth as you kiss him deeper, cupping his cheek and licking into his mouth. Chan whines, his hands moving to your shoulders to hold you close to him. You get on top of him again, your knees on both sides of his thighs. You cup Chan’s chin to tilt it up, kissing him deeper, hungrier, sloppier. He moans softly, allowing you to devour him. Chan’s hips buck up, grinding against your bulge. He pulls back with a gasp, breathing heavily. You smile, letting him take a breather, gently kissing his forehead. “Your lips are addicting, Channie.”

Chan giggles, his ears flushed red, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your mouth. “Thank you, hyung,” he whispers, his voice quiet. You hum, sitting back and unbuttoning your jeans. Chan’s eyes go wide, stuttering nonsense as he watches you slowly unzip your pants. You chuckle, looking back over to Jisung, who’s painfully hard in his pants.

“Sungie, wanna use Channie’s mouth while I fuck him?” You can see Jisung’s cock twitch in his pants and he almost trips over his feet to climb onto the couch next to Chan.

“Please, please–” Jisung cups Chan’s cheek, turning Chan’s face to make eye contact. “Baby, can you handle it?” He asks softly, petting Chan’s cheek. Chan nods vehemently, leaning closer to Jisung, trying to kiss him.

“Yes, please, hyung, wanna taste you–” Jisung leans in to kiss Chan, both boys whimpering as their lips meet. While they’re preoccupied, you slip off of Chan, standing up in front of the couch. You pull your pants down and off fully, chuckling as you watch Chan and Jisung break the kiss to look up at you with wide eyes, darting down to the tent in your boxers. “What the fuck,” Chan whispers, biting his lip, scooting back on the couch. “Hyung, you’re–”

“Holy shit.” Jisung cuts him off, blinking rapidly. “I think you’re bigger than all of us.” You chuckle, pushing your boxers down to free your length. Both of their jaws drop and you laugh with your full chest, throwing your underwear aside.

“Come on. I'm not that big, am I?” You softly pump yourself, narrowing your eyes at Jisung. “Wait, who’s this ‘all of us’ you’re talking about? You mean out of all the kids?”

Chan swallows thickly, licking his lips. “Yeah,” he whispers. “A lot bigger– like, a lot–” Chan mumbles nonsense, fear slowly spreading across his face. You start to get a little worried, placing a comforting hand on Chan’s thigh.

“Am I too big?” You whisper, caressing his skin. “Do you not want to do this, baby?” Chan sits up, snapping out of his daze.

“No! No, no, sorry. I just– got… distracted,” his ears flush red as he giggles. “I'm okay, I want this, please, hyung.” You chuckle, squeezing his thigh.

“Alright. I'll go slow, yeah?” You trail your hand down his thigh, slowly pushing it to his chest, met with an appreciative whine from Chan’s lips. “Sungie, don’t use his mouth until he’s fully adjusted, got it?”

Jisung nods, kneeling down next to the couch. He kisses Chan’s cheek, soothing his hair. “Yes, sir. I'll wait.”

Chan takes a deep breath as you press both of his thighs to his chest, the sharp intake of air making his body shake. “I'll– I'll tap Jisung if he needs to stop. He can use my mouth now.” You shake your head, running your hands down his thighs to softly squeeze his ass.

“No. You need to be able to talk to me as I push inside. When you’re ready, Jisung will start. Okay?” Chan whines, but agrees. He reaches out for your hand and you take it, squeezing softly. “You ready, sweetheart?” You take your other hand to slick your cock with lube.

Chan chews his bottom lip, holding onto your hand tightly. “I'm… I’m ready,” He locks eyes with you, his heart hammering in his chest hard enough for you to feel his pulse through his hand. You push his hand up above his head, pinning it down as you use your other hand to guide your tip to Chan’s entrance.

You push in as slowly as you can muster, but as soon as you breach the rim, a warm bliss spreads throughout your entire body. He's so warm, so tight, so perfect around you. You squeeze your eyes shut to ground yourself– not even a full inch inside.

Chan is beside himself. His head is thrown back against the couch, his grip on your hand bruising. He’s whimpering pathetically, his own eyes squeezed shut tight. “Hyungggg,” he whines. “Please. More. Need more.” Jisung coos, soothing Chan’s hair.

“Be patient, Channie,” Jisung whispers, kissing Chan’s forehead. “Y/Nie hyung is going slow, remember?” Chan just whines in response, writhing around.

“Noooooo,” Chan is pathetic. “Hyung, all the way, now, please, I need–”

You push in a full two inches and Chan stops breathing. You’re still inside of him, gently caressing his hand. “You okay? It’s what you wanted, no?” You tease and Chan shudders, breathing again.

“Yes, h-hyung, it’s what I wanted, thank you, thank y–” Jisung shuts him up with his lips on Chan’s, turning his head to deepen the kiss. You let go of Chan’s hand to pinch Jisung’s ear and he pulls back, groaning.

“What was that for?” Jisung whines, rubbing his ear. You narrow your eyes at him, going back to holding Chan’s hand above his head.

“Let him breathe and speak. I'm not done, Sungie.” You scold. Jisung looks like a kicked puppy, the way he sits back on the ground next to the couch.

“Sorry, sir,” he whispers, chewing the inside of his cheek. You chuckle, turning back to Chan.

“You okay? Ready for more?” Chan whimpers, his bottom lip jutting out.

“There's more?” His voice sounds small, looking down as if he could see your cock through his own thighs against his chest. You chuckle, leaning down to kiss his nose.

“There’s quite a bit more,” you lift back up, looking down to see over half your length still unsheathed. “You sure you want this?”

“Yes!” He responds instantly, then giggles at his desperation. “Yes, hyung. please.”

You groan, your free hand pressing down on his stomach to hold yourself up as Chan tightens around you. “Loose– loosen up, sweetheart,” you breathe out, unable to push in any further or even pull out. “Please.”

Chan takes a deep breath and, squeezing your hand, he slowly relaxes. You feel his muscles ease around you. Chan trembles, whimpering softly as Jisung kneels next to the couch, petting Chan’s head. “There you go, Channie, just relax. You’re okay.”

You pull Chan’s hand up to kiss it, then place it back down softly to push in another inch. “Good boy,” you praise, met with the softest whimper from Chan’s lips. “You’re doing so well. Not used to bottoming, hm?” You whisper, stilling inside of him. Chan nods in response, whining high in his throat.

Chan lets out a soft sob, closing his eyes tightly as tears run down his cheeks. “H-hurts…” he whispers, trying (yet failing) to hold back his tears, squeezing your hand tightly. You coo as Jisung kisses away his tears, petting his cheek.

You pull out slightly, just to push in slightly deeper than before. Chan moans loudly at the absence of you, then his breath hitches when you press in again. “It's okay, it’s okay,” you soothe him, rubbing patterns into his hand. He bites his lip to hold back another sob.

“Y-You-You’re so big, I– oh my g-god…” he gasps, tears dripping down his face. Jisung wipes them away, kissing his forehead.

“Color, hyung?” Jisung whispers, checking in. Chan hiccups, sniffing softly.

“Green,” Chan replies after a couple seconds of slowing his breathing. “It's just a lot. I've only ever bottomed for Minho.” Jisung giggles, kissing Chan’s cheek.

“Then you’ve barely bottomed,” Jisung whispers underneath his breath, as if Minho could hear. Chan laughs, then winces as he’s reminded of the mass inside of him. “Sorry, sorry,” Jisung apologizes, wiping a stray tear that escaped Chan’s closed eyes.

You almost burst on the spot watching the two of them. You knew all the kids fooled around, it was beyond obvious, but seeing and hearing confirmation warms your heart. You know for certain now that they’re all there for one another, in more ways than you knew for sure. And now you’re a part of that– and you hope this isn’t a one-time thing.

You come back to reality as the two of them look up at you, silently giving you permission to continue. You push into the backs of Chan’s thighs, forcing them flush against Chan’s chest as you lift his hips to push in deeper. Chan wails, a broken sob escaping his lips. The sound instantly dies to the soundproofed walls, but it doesn’t make Chan any less mortified. He curls up into himself, pulling your hand as he covers his face with his arm in embarrassment.

Chuckling, you pull his hand back to the arm of the couch above his head, caressing his chin with your other hand. “Don’t hold back your noises, baby boy.” He sniffs, nodding as he lets more whines out. You trail your free hand down his chest, pressing down on his stomach. “I know it feels good, sweetheart. Keep making those pretty sounds for us.” Chan keens, his ears burning blood red.

“H-hyung, god…” he looks up at you only to squeeze his eyes shut again, failing to hold back the tears streaming down his face. He grasps your hand as tightly as he can muster as you push in deeper. He whimpers pathetically, breathing through his nose as he holds back sobs.

You stop moving, overwhelmed by his sweet sounds. “God,” you lean down and press your forehead to Chan’s sternum. “You sound so good.” It takes every ounce in your body to not cum right in that moment as Chan sobs, his chest heaving under your head. “Give me a second, baby.” Chan squeezes your hand in response, trembling under you. He takes shaky breaths under you, whining and moaning as his brain melts. Your name is the only word he can seem to remember, repeating it softly.

“Y/N, hyung, Y/Nie, hyung, Y/Nie hyung–” Chan hiccups as you lift your head, kissing his lips softly. You keep your lips on his as you push the rest of the way inside, swallowing his sobs and whimpers. He kisses you like his life depends on it, like if he stops you’ll disappear, this will all be over. He has the softest lips you’ve ever felt– it feels like making out with a pillow.

You’ve stilled inside of him, letting him adjust to your full length. After another moment of needy, desperate kisses, Chan tries to roll his hips up for more but his hips tremble too hard for him to move properly. You still feel the movement, though, and you pull up to let Chan speak. He lets out a strained whine, chasing your lips.

“Please–” he whispers, staring at your lips. “Move, please. And more– more kisses. please.” You press your lips to his again, pulling out a couple inches just to push back in. Chan gasps as you hit as deeply as you can reach, allowing you to lick into his mouth. He pants, letting you do whatever you want to him.

Ignoring his protests, you sit up to get a better angle to move inside him. Chan pouts, his mouth opening and closing, feeling empty. You chuckle, stilling your hips. “Sungie.” Jisung perks up as you say his name, sitting forward on his knees. “I think Chan’s okay. You wanna have your fun now?”

Jisung almost falls onto Chan with how quickly he stands up. “You ready, Channie?” Jisung whispers, tilting Chan’s head to face him. Chan nods, staring up at him. “If it's too much, just squeeze my hand twice, okay?” He takes Chan’s other hand– now holding both you and Jisung’s hands.

“Please. I’m ready,” Chan begs, wetting his lips with his tongue and opening his mouth wide. Jisung laughs, ruffling Chan’s hair with his free hand. 

“Desperate much? I don’t even have my pants off yet,” Jisung undoes his jeans with one hand, rubbing patterns into Chan’s hand with the other. He gets them off quick– you can tell this isn’t the first time he’s had to undress with a hand busy.

As soon as Jisung slips his long dick into Chan’s mouth, you start moving again. “Channie, squeeze my hand twice too if you need me to stop, okay?” Chan whines in response, his mouth full, but he squeezes your hand once to let you know he heard you. You chuckle, pressing down on his stomach as you start a steady rhythm. “Good boy, you’re doing so well for us,” you whisper as you lean down, burying your face in Chan’s neck as he takes Jisung’s cock down his throat on his other side.

You lick a stripe up to Chan’s ear, peppering kisses to his jaw. “What a perfect boy,” you praise, nibbling on his earlobe. “You like being used, don’t you?” Chan moans so loudly Jisung buckles, almost falling on top of you both.

“Fuck. Hyung, please,” Jisung whines. “Don’t make him moan. I'm gonna cum too quick.” You laugh, pressing your lips to Chan’s jaw.

“Sorry,” you apologize. “So good, Channie,” whispering into his neck, you trail your hand down to wrap around Chan’s aching cock. Chan chokes on Jisung’s cock, squeezing his hand twice and gasping for air as Jisung immediately pulls out.

“Y/Nie hyung, wait, wait–” he whimpers and you instantly stop all your movements, your hand stilling on his cock and your length half outside his warmth.

“What's wrong?” You coo, sitting up to watch Chan’s face as Jisung kneels down to pet Chan’s hair.

Chan’s voice falters, chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. “Sorry, sorry, just– so close. Don't wanna cum yet. But don’t stop, just– don’t touch.” You nod, moving your hand from his cock to his stomach, stroking softly.

“Okay, puppy.”

Chan lets out the most pathetic sound of the night as you feel a sudden warmth on your hand. You look down to see his cock leaking cum, dripping down the side of your hand into his belly button. Jisung holds back a laugh, turning around so Chan can’t see him fighting his demons. You can’t fight the smile that spreads on your face, looking up to find a deflated Chan staring back at you with tears in his eyes.

“Channie,” you hum and he whines, shutting his eyes.

“Don’t,” he whispers, facing away from you.

“Chan,” you let go of Chan’s hand and force him to face you, running your thumb down his jaw.

“Please don’t,” his voice shakes as he opens his eyes slowly, a tear streaming down his cheek.

“Bang Chan.” He nearly screams, hitting your chest with the hand you let go of.

“Don’t call me that right now!” He cries out, wiping his tears with the back of his hand. You lift your hand, coated in his cum, and slowly lick it off as Chan watches you. You don’t even have to look down to know his cock is getting hard again.

“Channie,” you whisper, licking the last drop of his cum off your hand. Chan is too distracted to pipe up this time. “Did you just cum untouched from me calling you ‘puppy’?” He whines, covering his face with his hand.

“I wanna die. Actually, just kill me. Please.” You chuckle, kissing his nose, then kissing his lips softly. “Hyung–”

“Shh,” you whisper, kissing Chan to shut him up. He doesn’t complain. He kisses back hesitantly at first, tongue darting out to taste his own cum. You open your mouth to let him in, and he devours you in return.

A couple minutes of hungry making out pass and Jisung starts protesting. “Y/N,” Jisung whines. you sigh into Chan’s lips and pull away after licking Chan’s bottom lip.

“That's ‘hyung’ to you, Sungie,” you correct, kissing Chan’s cheek.

“Sorry, sorry– Y/Nie hyung.” Jisung fumbles, correcting himself. “Please. I’m so hard, I need to cum.” You groan, reminded of your own neglected length.

“Yeah. Yeah, me too,” you sit up, away from Chan’s neck, as he pouts up at you. “Sorry, pup. Can we go again?” Chan keens at the pet name, his face lighting up.

“Please. Please, yes, I wanna, wanna feel hyung again.” Jisung clears his throat obnoxiously and Chan giggles. “Sorry. Wanna feel hyungs again,” he corrects. “Please.”

“Good boy,” you praise, pressing into Chan again. He closes his eyes, letting out contented breaths as you press all the way in. Once you’re in fully, he gazes up at Jisung, letting his mouth fall open in anticipation. Jisung pushes in, gently rocking back and forth as you match the same pace.

“‘M not– not gonna last long,” Jisung whispers, petting Chan’s hair as he slowly fucks his throat. Chan hums around him, letting his eyes fall shut as he enjoys being used. You lean back down and bite his neck to ground yourself, moving your hips quicker and snapping into Chan’s. Chan lets out a punched whimper at every thrust, driving Jisung closer and closer. “Fuck,” Jisung groans, pulling out of Chan’s mouth. Chan whines, chasing Jisung’s cock with his mouth, only for Jisung to slap the tip back onto his tongue. He jerks off into Chan’s mouth, cumming with a low whine, painting Chan’s tongue white. As soon as he finishes, he bends down to meet Chan’s lips in a sloppy kiss, Jisung’s cum spreading between their mouths.

You pepper kisses into Chan’s neck as you speed up, stroking his aching cock as you groan. “Channie, where do you want me to cum?” Chan breaks the kiss with Jisung, panting.

“Inside. Please fill me up,” he begs, turning his head to face you. You kiss him immediately, thrusting one, two– three times, cumming deep inside him. Chan whimpers, exploding in your hand as soon as he feels you filling him up. You chuckle into the kiss, lifting your hand to lick it clean once again. Chan’s pupils are blown wide watching you, sticking out his tongue to lick your fingers. You let him lick off the remaining cum, humming as he closes his eyes when you kiss him again.

Chan grimaces after a couple seconds of kisses and you pull away, scanning his face. “Are you okay?” You whisper, rubbing his cheek.

“My legs are gonna go numb,” he whines, giggling a little. You sit up instantly, letting his legs stretch out after what felt like forever. He sighs in contempt, closing his eyes. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“I’m so sorry. I had you bent in half for too long.” Chan giggles, waving you off. “Sungie, are there any towels?” You ask softly, too scared to pull out of Chan yet. “Or tissues, at least?” Jisung stands to his feet after pressing a soft kiss to Chan’s cheek.

“Yeah, lemme go grab one,” he disappears behind you for a moment, Chan watching him walk away. He tries to sit up and winces, his hand shooting to his stomach.

“Fuck. That’s gonna be sore,” he giggles up at you. You lean down to kiss his stomach, caressing both sides of his hips.

“Sorry, pretty boy.” Chan just smiles in response.

“It���s okay. I asked for it, didn’t I?” He chews his bottom lip. “You don’t have anything to apologize for.” 

Jisung returns with a towel and you clean Chan’s stomach up, carefully wiping Chan’s soft dick before wiping your own.

“God,” you groan after they’ve both cleaned up and eased back into their clothes. “I haven’t done that in so long.” Jisung lifts his head to look at you as he slips on his second sock.

“Done what? Topped? Or fucked your boss?” You laughed, massaging your temple.

“Please don’t say that. I’m reeling enough after everything.” Chan nuzzles into your shoulder, wrapping his arm around yours. “It’s okay. Nobody will know. Unless you want them to,” Chan looks up at you, chewing his bottom lip. “The others… like you, too. We all like you,” he confesses.

You ruffle his hair, kissing his forehead. “I know, pup.” Chan melts into your shoulder at the endearment. “But I’m not sure I’d want to. Y’know. I think…” You trail off, eyes flitting between Chan and Jisung.

Panic seeps in. You just fucked your boss. Bosses, rather. You’d be dead if anyone found out. Sure, the other kids would be fine with it. But for that to leak to anyone else? You could never show your face again. You overstepped. Massively.

Chan can feel you stiffen up, and he lifts his head to study your expression. Before he can say anything, you stand up, running your hand through your hair. “I… I should go.” Chan shoots forward, tugging on your wrist to not let you move any further away.

“No. Sit down.” Chan’s back to normal. Gone is the submissive man you had wrapped around your finger just minutes prior. You know that tone, you know better. So you sit down.

“This was a mistake,” you start as soon as you sit back down. “I got so caught up in the moment, I shouldn’t have– really. This is bad.”

“Stop. Just stop, okay?” Chan squeezes your wrist tightly, sitting closer. “If we didn’t want this, we would’ve said something. If we didn’t enjoy it, we would’ve stopped. We wouldn’t have done it. Do you really think so low of us?” Your eyes widen, shaking your head rapidly.

“No, no, I know you would’ve, but–” You stare down at the ground, thinking, trying to speak, but nothing comes out. “I’m your manager. I overstepped.”

Chan places his hand on your cheek, turning your face towards him. “Hyung. Y/Nie. It’s okay, I promise. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t overstep. You didn’t do anything we didn’t want.” His thumb runs across your cheek in gentle circles. “Sungie and I both wanted this, hoped for this, prayed for this. We enjoyed it more than you can even imagine.”

You laugh, shaking your head in bewilderment. “Prayed? You two wanted to have sex with me that badly?”

“I can’t speak for Chan, but…” Jisung pipes up. “I know the day you became our main manager, I jerked off for an hour to the scent of your cologne still on my hand.” You roll your eyes.

“Freak. Okay, whatever.” Jisung giggles, raising his hands up in defeat. Chan chuckles, dropping his hand back down to hold your hand.

“I’ve been thinking about it for years,” Chan confesses, rubbing patterns into the palm of your hand, unable to meet your eyes. “You have no idea how many times I’ve had to stop myself from getting on my knees and begging for it while you lectured me.” You scoff, pinching the bridge of your nose.

“Okay. Got it. Is it just you two who’re crazy for my dick, or do I have to look out for the other kids drooling over me, too?” Jisung and Chan exchange an unreadable glance, then refuse to respond to your question. “... Okay. Understood.”

Chan rubs your knee, tonguing the inside of his cheek. “Please, don’t panic, okay? This was just one fun night. It can just be a one time thing.” You think Chan can feel the disappointment through your skin, because he immediately backtracks. “Or not. We can do this again. Whenever you want. Whatever you want.”

“I’d like that. For this to not just be a one time thing. Please.” Chan leans forward and kisses your cheek, whispering against your skin. 

“Thank god.” He straddles your thigh, hugging you tight. “You scared me for a moment.” You chuckle, running your hand through his hair.

“Sorry,” you reach out for Jisung to come closer, and he takes a seat on your other thigh. “I trust you guys. Anytime you want me, just let me know. I’ll be there.” They both nuzzle into your neck, wrapping their arms around you.

“I love you,” Chan whispers, kissing your neck.

Before you can respond, the door unlocks and swings open.

“Sorry, forgot my–” Changbin stops in his tracks, staring at the scene before him. He takes in everyone’s messy hair, the towels scattered across the floor, your mortified face as you meet his eyes. He processes slowly, then a smirk slowly appears on his face when Chan and Jisung finally look towards him.

“Bin, I–” Chan starts, his voice small. Changbin clicks his tongue, Chan instantly falling silent. Jisung curls up into himself on your lap in preparation for a lecture. Changbin steps back to lock the door, then turns back to the three of you.

“Got room for one more?”

[bronx-bomber87]

Hello amazing fandom :) Hope you are doing well. Hard to believe after this one we only have 8 left. Which makes this ep being somewhat a dud just a bit of a bummer IMO. We only have so many and they've been killing it this season. Truly making it count. The first 9 have been so good. The last 4 episodes just phenomenal. Week after week. It's easy to see where this one missed the mark.

I haven't minded low Chenford or even some crumbs if the entire ep is good like last week was. This one wasn't that unfortunately. Now 9 really good eps out of 10, being amazing so far isn't something to sneeze at. It's an outstanding achievement. S7 has been incredibly good. But this one definitely pales in comparison to the rest of the season.

As they say they can't all be home runs LOL Now there were parts of this episode I really liked. (Like the final Seth scene was primo) Those will be the parts I'm covering in this one. As a whole not their best. But I didn't not enjoy the full hour. Except the for Guitar guy but I'll get into that in my side notes. Off we go :)

7x10 Chaos Agent

Nolan bitching to Chenford about his song pretty humorous. Lucy not giving much sympathy is even funnier. Also loved her belting a little piece of the OG song. She's so cute I cannot. John has enough of her supportive shenanigans and takes off. lol

Lucy is left with Tim who was on her side till the serious bit. Giving her a sassy comment about not generalizing. I have zero doubt she gave him so much shit while they dated and he took some of it seriously. That's her 'experience' right there if you ask me ha. At least part of it. Love her face as she delivers that line. Smitty interrupts our crumb with his raccoon emergency lmao

Tim shoving Smitty's ass in the room I'm cackling. He doesn't have time for your shit sir LOL Lucy’s disappointed face when there is no raccoon is everything. She is so adorable. The animal lover in her wanting to see the little trash panda. Forever adore her being an animal lover no matter the animal. I am her and she is me haha

I love Lucy touching Tim's forearm when he says to neutralize the raccoon. There is no need to touch him so much Lucy.....Her hand all over that sexy forearm. Not once but twice. Also, them having opposing views on this, giving me 6x02 vibes with the bugs in her apartment, LOL. Miles is so cute in this scene too btw. He's really grown on me and his battle with this raccoon most of the ep was delightful.

Lucy was not jazzed with Seth showing up on his day off. I am never happy to see him either so I feel this. The irony that Seth is blown away by someone coming up with a crazy lie is wild. Pot meet habitually lying kettle. This kid is something else… Good lord... I knew the moment the doctor walked up and recognized Seth, it was the final nail in his lying liar coffin.

He is so terrible at said lying it’s painful. Lucy is on his ass from the moment he said ‘Used to be.’ So he used to have cancer…Kernel of truth with the lies. Just like all his others. I'll give it to him. He's nothing if not consistent with that. I have zero doubt, and so does Lucy; he used this to save his ass from being bounced from the program back in 7x05.

I was pretty damn certain but this officially confirmed it for me. Just look at Lucy as this convo goes down. Her stomach is turning over and over. This is not something to be ignored any longer. This doctor has accelerated his timeline out of the FTO and has no idea.

Lucy spots Luna and catches her. Cuts off Seth's incessant lying to do so. Dude knows he's a marked man when she departs. I adore Luna being a resource for Lucy on this. This has been such a good shift for her character to have. A useful one at that. Other thing I love is her telling Lucy she won't tell Wade unless she has to. You're a real one Luna.

Of course Seth switched to the shadiest doctor in the place. That sounds exactly right. When Luna was giving her background on this doctor, I thought, 'No doubt he’s paying this dude to make up shit for him'. She then confirms it at the end saying he's exactly the type of physician to be paid under table for that. Luna also putting to shame his BS answer about insurance. That little shit is dead in the water after this scene.

LOVE LOVE LOVE that she calls hubby right after. My heart. It's the little things fandom. Tim giving her the best answer she could receive. It's brilliant to draw his blood. He gets zero say in it and it'll finally nail him. I was wondering if anyone was actually monitoring his shit. Clearly not… But that sounds like health insurance tbh. Only looking for liabilities nothing else. Loving this plan though. No way for him to lie his way out of this one.

Probably wondering why I did a gif of this one eh? It's because of how Tim is with Smitty. How soft he is when he finds him. The concern in his voice when he asks if he's ok? Then after Smitty apologies the sweet tap on his knee to let him know it's ok. Be still my heart. I just loved this moment of softness from Tim with Smitty.

Our boy has grown so much it makes my heart ache in the best way. Not only is he kind but the tap to his knee is all the reassurance Smitty needs. Also just an antithesis to earlier when he shoved him into the office for the raccoon. Does my heart good to see it.

We get to the best part of the episode IMO. Seth's judgment day. Oooh boy I've been waiting for this! haha We all have. I mean holy hell look at Feral Tim staring down Ridley. Hot damn. Doesn't break once with his intense glare or sharp tone. 'Yes or no Officer Ridley.' *fans self*

Like to point out how important it was that Tim was there with her. What this means to Lucy. He was right next to Wade to be a United Front for her. Tim was with her to the very end on this. We know how hard this was going to be on Lucy. It was important her pillar was there. She does a good job keeping a stern face at first.

Especially when Seth looks at her. Drawing strength from the two men she needs most in this moment. They don't beat around the bush with him and it's much needed. This kid needs a reality check and fast. Wade and Tim don't mess around with him for one second while this unfolds.

Love how Wade and Tim tag team Seth about what is going to happen. It's a no you're gone. If it's a yes and no cancer. You're still gone. It's a lose lose situation for him and Ridley knows it. It's here we really start to see Seth come undone. From his body language to how he handles himself in this convo. With zero grace or accountability.

When he feels the tide rising against him he tries to pull the 'Woe is me card.' One that has served him well up until this point. Spewing he can be better. No honey you can't. You're on the 4th or 5th chance at this point bub. You're not getting better. You can't own your mistakes to save your life. Or be honest ever. His rant about his rights. You gave those up when you became a probational rookie my son.

When he starts to panic and turns to Lucy this is where we start to see her crack. The tears starting to form in her eyes. It's killing her because for awhile she wanted to believe him. Truly she did. Her natural instinct is to see the best in everyone. He took advantage of her kindness and exploited her empathy for his own gain. I wonder if she is going to second guess her instincts after him? I would even though there is zero reason for her to. I would be feeling pretty tore up and hurt. I imagine she will be too.

Melissa be killing me absolutely killing me when he says no to the draw. You can tell Lucy is wrecked about this. I can’t say I’ve been there in terms of a replica of Seth. But I did have a kid on my team I whole heartedly believed in. Trusted him. He exploited my kindness and empathy. It was quite the burn to my self esteem. He turned out to be a nightmare of Seth’s level.

Even when he was eventually terminated I felt the weight of it. Relief yes, but I carried it with me. Even though I had done everything right I could’ve with him. I still shouldered some of the responsibility. I know Lucy is feeling that. She is an empath and deeply caring one at that. This is going to stay with her for a little while I think.

Look at how Set avoids both Lucy and Tim and only comes at Wade. Knowing Tim would destroy him if he went after Lucy. I kinda wish he had but this kid knew not to poke that bear. He sure as hell didn’t have the balls to go after Tim that's for sure. So he focuses all his crazy rage on Wade, who handles it like the champ he is. Tears his defiant little ass down. Even with his last breath he couldn't own up to a single thing. Hiding behind a threatening lawsuit he will not win.

Tim takes over with some serious death glares about what happens next. If looks could kill you'd be one dead washed out rookie. Kinda wished we could've seen them send him off from the station but that's ok. I feel the aftermath of this will be in the next episode. Lucy's face at the very end is the final dagger to my heart. This is gonna rock her for awhile I can feel it.

I also have a feeling we are not done with him. Seems like the kind of little weasel that knows all the dirty back channels for a settlement. Don’t think we are quite done with him. I could be wrong though. I know Melissa did a nice shout out post for him that made it seem final. But I'll believe it when I see the final ep of this season lol

If we aren't would love for them to find out about his NWS lie with the road. If this was the end. I've wanted to say this all season but wanted to wait till his demise. Well done Patrick. Holy hell. What a starter character for him to break into tv with. You did such a good job. I truly hated your character's guts my good sir LOL Fantastic job.

Thank you as always to you amazing readers who like, comment ( chatty chat with me) and reblog these thoughts each week. You're incredible and I can't tell you the deep appreciation and love I feel from each one. Excited for next week. Our babies sharing a shop during the madness. Always happy to see that. Shall see you in 7x11 next week :)

Side notes -non Chenford

Ok I didn't super love the Rodger storyline. I'll be honest. It felt awkward and stilted. His SL felt like a sore thumb in a mighty intense episode. If he just had the cold open ok maybe. But to dedicate part of the ep to him?

I wasn't about it. His songs made me wicked uncomfortable in a second hand embarrassment way. I got massive Skip Tracer Randy vibes from it. No offense if you like STR he's just never sat right with me and the tone of the show lol Also Celina needs better taste in men she could do better than this turkey IMO. Ok rant over. haha

Loved them bringing Lisa back to help James the callbacks are great. Tying it in with when she got shot and how long the process is. Poor Nyla though this is so rough on her. Not just the recovery but their marital stuff they still have to work out on top of it. It’s a lot. Proud of her for not rushing to the station to help.

Will say every time Tim says ‘Juarez’ with that slight inflection always gets me a little hot and bothered. Mmmm.

Ok Zuzu made my skin crawl. How violating. Didn't like that one bit.

Poor Miles all episode he tried and Celina got him LOL I really enjoy his he is quite the cute puppy I never expected to love.

[theallianceofcelestials]

I'd love to see/hear SSA Sun loss his shit one way or another. No pressure intended, please!

Well then, this came at a good time cuz I decided I'll do the occasional drabble again (though don't rush me cuz I WILL only answer some days later, which is horroristic and inhumane I know /silly)

"OH COME ON!"

Solar jumps as something shatters, whipping his head around to stare at Sun with wide optics. Moon, who's been slowly slinking towards him on the couch, has also whirled around, staring widely at his sunny brother.

"YOU STUPID THING!"

On the floor is what appears to be a picture frame, the protective glass shattered everywhere. When he looks at his uncle, he's visibly shaking.

"Sunny?"

Moon flinches back when Sun snaps his head towards them, glaring daggers in their direction.

"What?!"

"Is... Is everything okay..?"

He's never seen his lunar uncle this meek before, but honestly he gets it. This is unusual and terrifying.

" Oh I don't know Moony, am I?!"

Solar presses himself against the couch subtly, hoping he somehow won't be noticed. Luckily his uncle seems to be the sole target of this fustration for now.

"Or maybe, I've had enough of the fact you always get injured in your stupid lab, and the only reason I know this is because I find your bloody tools laying around!"

Moon raises his hands in surrender, but it's no use. Sun is already mad, and nothing will change that now.

"I'm sorry-"

"ARE YOU!?"

They both jump, and he feels insanely grateful he's not the target of this. Just seeing his usually sweet and calm uncle like this is offputing.

But white eyes are looking at him blankly now, and he freezes where he is. There's an awkward smile stretching across his face now.

"Moon, we're going to talk about this in another room now. Come"

When his uncle doesn't move immediately from where he's pressed against the couch, the sunny SCP sighs.

"I said come, or I swear-!"

"I'm coming!"

He's never seen anyone move so fast before, especially not Moon, and he'd be laughing if this was any other situation.

As it is, he's just grateful he wasn't the target of Sun this time

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

In a World of Boys, He's a Gentleman - K. Rensuke

Fem!Reader

@ohagiyo hey look it’s your man

You've had a crush on Kunigami Rensuke for as long as you remember.

He lived right next door, and considering how friendly his family was, you and your families were both often at each other's houses, discussing the weather or the latest gossip or politics. You usually just played with him and his sisters, his older sister basically becoming your older sister and his younger sister basically becoming both your younger sister and child. Kunigami was your best friend, and you were both basically attached by the hip.

You knew that you were basic, that you weren't the only one who had a crush on Kunigami. Most of the girls at your school had a crush on him at some point; after all, he was calm, friendly, and handsome. The moment you started high school, you were thrown into the hell of receiving constant dirty looks and bad rumors about you that reached Kunigami more often than not. Despite that very fact, Kunigami was often the one to shut those very rumors, knowing that you don't go around sleeping with older men on the weekends; he literally spends the night at your house on weekends or vice versa.

Eventually, the girls who spread the rumors realized that whatever nasty gossip they say about you will never reach Kunigami enough for him to actually believe it, and they resorted to silently congratulating you for winning him over this easily but despising you at the same time. You and Kunigami were truly “that one couple” of your high school.

Except for one problem: You both weren't actually dating.

That very fact pissed all of your classmates and even teachers off to no end; I mean, who literally walks home together every day while holding hands, are partners for every single little assignment or projects, are always sharing their food with each other, always touching or holding each other in some way, have kissed before, and have known each other since they were two, aren't dating? What the fuck?

“We're friends,” you would always say. “I don't even know if he likes me back.”

He's never told you that he was in love with you after all, but you sure hoped that he was going to.

And as you're both standing outside of his house, him about to leave for some training program that the Japanese Football Union invited him to, he leans down and his lips meet yours. He pulls away after a few moments that felt like years, before he whispers “I love you. I'll come back soon, alright?”

It was the first time he had ever said it, and yet it felt as if you've heard these three little words from him for the past decade and a half every single day. You beamed, pale pink dusting your cheeks, before you replied. “I love you too. Now good luck with that program, alright? I'll wait for you to come back.”

He smiled at you before nodding and walking away, waving. And you watched as his figure slowly got farther and farther, until he was out of your vision.

And you didn't know this at the moment, you didn't realize it yet. You didn't realize that they would take your Rensuke away from you. You didn't realize that in four months, you would be staring at your TV screen, at an exhausted and stoic Rensuke, wondering what they had done to your lover.

A/N: inspired by the Taylor song “Slut!”, I'm literally obsessed with that song omg. This is also my first time writing for Kuni so…

[girlnadian]

evilkenfies collaring dubiously in the same verse as corruption begins with the mouth. you could consider it canon or you could consider it not canon. i dont know. i just like writing these dynamics </3

obligatory consent issues / "evilfies is a creep" warning

732 words // divider

Wifies is so, so touchy. Ken flinches every time Wifies pets at his ears, no matter how much he tries not to, and amusement lights up Wifies' eyes every time in a way that makes Ken's skin crawl. If Ken said he hates it here, it would be the understatement of the century, but he would remind himself in the same breath that he doesn't have a choice.

His Wifies is safe. That's all that matters. Ken is allowed to check on him once a day—not talk, but he's safe. Ken knows it's calculated: every time he sees his Wifies, he loses whatever budding will he had to resist. It's mechanical, like repowering a redstone signal. He doesn't care; it's working.

It's directly after these visits that the other Wifies gets bold. Ken remembers why he's here and becomes pliant, if only briefly. Wifies puts his hand on Ken's lower back and leads him into his office, and Ken goes without the usual tensed-up shoulders and folded-back ears. Ken should know something is coming. The collar Wifies pulls out still nearly makes him choke.

"You can't be serious," Ken says. His voice rises a pitch, almost cracking. Wifies smiles.

"I am," he laughs. "Why wouldn't I put a collar on my cat?"

Ken feels heat rising to his cheeks in anger and humiliation and what he hopes is nothing else. He– he's dealt with people like this, before, and maybe he should have expected it. It happens when you're a hybrid, and it happens to cats especially, but he didn't think…

It's a deep, pretty purple leather, like the color of Wifies' headband. The iconic yin-yang hangs as a charm on the front, and it's so degrading to even think about. Ken has been suffocated by those colors ever since he got to the factory. The room he sleeps in is a lifeless gray and the covers he sleeps under are that same violet, but he's been spared it on his own person until now.

Ken has given a lot for this. He doesn't know how much he has left in him. Wifies clicks his tongue and steps forward.

Ken locks up. "I can't–"

Wifies says, "I'll do it for you." as if that's at all the problem, but Ken squeezes his eyes shut and fights down the growl in his throat as Wifies' hands encircle his neck. He feels cold, and he doesn't know if it's the collar or Wifies' hands.

"There," Wifies murmurs, right into Ken's ear. He's done, but he doesn't so much as lean back. "Is that so bad?"

It is. It feels like lead against his neck—Ken feels like his stomach is vibrating. It feels worse than every restraint he's ever been in and every set of iron bars he's ever been trapped behind combined. It's worse than just being trapped, it's being owned. It is a horrible, horrible revulsion against everything Ken has even been and ever stood for. Ken has no idea how he stands there without slitting his own throat—his claws twitch like he means to—but he stands there and shakes and sweats until Wifies hums and takes a step back. Still, Ken doesn't open his eyes. He is keenly aware of every individual organ in his body, and the fact that if he meets Wifies' eyes right now, he will throw up.

A finger hooks under the collar. Ken intakes a struggling breath.

"I should get you some new clothes," Wifies muses. Ken doesn't even process it. It's hard to imagine feeling worse than he does right now, but being stripped (figuratively and literally) would probably do it. "You'll get used to it."

Wifies leans in to kiss him, then, and at least that's a familiar hell. He knows to open his mouth so Wifies can lick over his fangs, and to push his tongue forward because Wifies likes the rough texture of it. The surface-level pain is a welcome relief, so much so that Ken chases it. He lets Wifies huff a laugh into his mouth and grab his waist to lead him back until Ken bumps into the unforgiving wood of Wifies' desk.

He will have plenty of time to tear his own skin off about it later—they both know Ken isn't going anywhere. For now, his mind is dreadfully, uncharacteristically, blessedly blank as Wifies lays him out on the wood.

[themareverine]

— Wild Ones

Miles Quartich x fem!readerOC

tags: Established marriage, age gap, complete canon deviation, entry level fandom knowledge, a whole lot of made-up futuristic tech, pro-human, Miles lives, my first official stab at Miles.

a/n: originally posted on my old account, but transferring back. this was waaay back in my Avatar era last year. I've moved on more to X-Men/Wolverine/Hugh Jackman, but I still absolutely love Miles Quaritch as a character (Stephen Lang, how couldn't I be?). This character is hot, hot, hot and I did originally have series planned for Avatar, but, alas, the universe is messy for me morally and I decided I just couldn't get into the fandom nearly as much as I was into the character. Maybe I'll pursue writing more Miles again, who knows?

"...you can hear me? Ruthaynne—Miss Carthier, you able to hear alright?"

Waking from neural connection, usually, happens in a whirlwind—one of two ways, really. Many drivers reported a slow haze, akin to swimming.

Time spinning backward as the crush of water rushes to fight you under, pulling at what feels to be your bones as you grapple for air, choking on hope and the claw for the surface. Smothering and slow.

Others reported the whiplash of being launched into a world of spinning color, cloud nine sounds, exaggerated tastes—acidic, saccharine, umami in ways to make the head spin.

The crash of a heartbeat, the lightning quick crash of senses coming online like from a coma.

Lungs rise and fall rapidly, sucking in stale and thin air. Twice the size of what the human cavity would remember, not a stone's throw from her alternate shell, locked away in some coffin box costing more than anything NASA would ever touch in three decades.

Blood, rich with properties Earth could never fathom, rips through her veins—carrying foreign oxygens, CO2s cocktails to organs pushing hard, pistoning for life. Pores open and close like one never would think to acknowledge, hair stands up on end as the cool rush of conditioned air sets in.

Her hearing is the last to balance, deep and slow tones of the living settling into the brain like ripping off a wet, suffocating blanket.

The weight of the sun may as well be resting on her chest—everything burns. 

Hot, like someone's struck a flickering match beneath the epidermis that's lit her up. Snapping and crackling in her blood, licking up whatever air is pummeling down her windpipe.

Hunger claws somewhere in the depth of her core, starving and rapid with cold attention and steel tenacity that demands. She'd kill for a steak, or carbs—something savory, something salty.

Synopses in her brain curl and flex her toes towards the floor. Muscles in her calves pull, twitch. Contract.

They're defined in ways Ruthie Carthier, her human body, would never feel; strong. Adept. Otherworldly, godlike. Adonis, reaching for the sun —flying too close to a feeling of power, of capability.

It was never how man was supposed to feel. Forever the creation, the taste of creator was never meant to flow through veins incapable of justice, purity.

And this must be what Goliath felt like, high on adrenaline, drunk on power and iron strength able to bend hearts backwards. 

I Am help us; it was incredible. Magnificent in a twisting, serpentine way. Like a chilled, feverish sweat—cooling for the moment, but not everyday. Not stationary, not normal. Not organic.

A snap of cold chases down the muscles in her back, the discs of her spine—chasing the heat crashing through her blood. And as her palms skip over whatever surface is beneath her, she knows why. It's smooth, otherworldly smooth.

Skipping through her fingers, she realizes it's the medical berth. The labs.

"...heart level's looking fantastic, o-sat is nearly perfect. Good respirations," two heads suddenly appear above, looking down through rebreathers.

They're smiling, the wrinkles at their eyes and the sparkle of light are tells that not even a trained liar could hide.

"Hey there. Doing okay?"

Color fights for daylight from beneath the milkwhite collar of the woman's labcoat—purple. It's a purple something trying to hide, but it may as well be flashing neon on the Vegas strip—and it's beautiful.

The only scrap of living color, in the otherwise industrial steels and sterile whites of the ceiling and walls.

Unable to look away from the rich promise of plumb for a few more heartbeats, movement flicks her eyes up to consider the light now passing in front of her eyes.

"Excellent tracking response," she chuckles. "Got some mighty blue eyes there, Mrs. Carthier—you're clear to sit up, nice 'n easy."

Stepping back from the table, the woman disappears from flat-back view and the beep of a monitor, the electrical whir of a correcting machine is the only noise.

"You might be a bit disoriented; it'll pass."

What once was the tech's floating head becoming a pair of shoulders and a body as she works into a sitting position.

The room spins, and it takes a squeeze of strong hands on the edge of the table to anchor the world, back as it was. Scribbling violently with a pen over a data screen, the tech's eyes track the change; data hits the mainframe almost at the speed of light.

Flicking between her patient and the screen, her smile is wire thin. She folds the plex over her chest, spinning the pen through her fingers.

"Better?"

Tapping the pen against her teeth, her head tips to the side. A nod satisfies her.

"Figured. Takes a few seconds for all the neural pathways to wake up, the sleepy bastards."

The curse is short off a snort and foul, and Ruthie's nose wrinkles in agitated disgust. Shooting her a sidelong frown, the tech has the nerve to roll her eyes.

"My bad, Jesu—jeez. If we're good here, you can stand up when you're ready, hon."

For a second, Ruthie thinks she can feel the reinforcement in her bones as she slips off the berth.

Bare fit hit the cold floor and she winces, recoiling as the heightened senses rush through her frame. Lifting her hands, she moves her finger, transfixed at the shallow bones flexing beneath her pale skin.

Corner of her mouth ticking up in a small smile, she watches the back of her hands as she makes a fist, releases. 

Ball up, release, don't tuck your thumb.

Flexing a hand, she dips fast into low, and two sharp jabs feel like nothing, upsetting the air. She's quick. Faster, maybe, than data suggested.

Na'vi inspired carbon fiber marrows, mingling with red blood cells and whatever else I Am intended for the skeletal system. Giving her the strength, suddenly, of five men—and it's remarkable. Beautiful, even.

Reaching to card fingers through her hair, she glances over her shoulder to the tech. Even across the room, heightened eyesight makes out the small stitching of her name on her coat.

Berg, J. The stitches are midnight black, a stain on the otherwise precise snow.

Turning, a sweeping glance confirms it—she's new. Ruthie's never met her before, even before her other runs in the Eve program.

Swallowing a breath of what's beginning to taste like rancid air, she blinks and looks to the leads snaking along the berth, pumping fluids into the IV in her hand.

"Miss Carthier—"

"Quaritch, actually. Ruthaynne Quaritch, at your service," unable to identify if the woman is a titled doctor or even military, she resorts to not identifying her at all. B

asic manners, if you could say you needed them in Bridgehead.

"But you can call me Ruthie, most people do."

Extended hand hanging there in thin air for a moment, unwelcomed, she finally just moves to brush the front of the medical gown.

Berg's raised brow of confusion matches the yeah, right practically tattooed in her expression.

And Ruthie would be more surprised at her lack of recognition, maybe, until she realizes after several seconds of trying to place her—she's never made this woman's acquaintance. Which isn't unusual, new people float in and out of programs all the time as teams ship out, rotate. Eve was no different.

Avatar Project attracted newbies like bears to honey.

On cue, Berg's attention trips to the monitor. 

Carthier, R. 

It blinks in solid, picked-by-some-underpaid-executive RDA standard font. Pen poised, she looks back to her patient, then to her plex—she swipes through screens, eyes scanning records.

The transparent glass flashes Emergency Contacts, and Ruthie's top teeth set to gnawing her bottom lip, waiting.

A second, maybe, before the woman's brows shoot almost right off her face. They would've hit the ceiling at almost the same pace as the color bleeding out of her face, if she didn't drop her writing device from stupefied fingers.

It hits the floor with a crack, Berg practically diving to retrieve it like she's at Mach 10. And the way she fumbles through Oh shit, oh fuck, how the hell—

Ruthie can't help her snort of amusement.

There it is.

"I—oh shit—ma'am. My apologies. I didn't—"

This wasn't the first time she'd been misidentified. Improperly ID'd. And it wouldn't, certainly, be the last.

A peacock of embarrassed heat fans up Ruthie's neck and across her nose, a light shrug slipping from her shoulders in an attempt to shake some of the tension out of the air.

"And you wouldn't, Miss Berg—never bothered to update the mainframe," a chuckle drops her gaze to the berth laid out before her like a tomb, "paperwork, you know how it goes. Only thing that moves slower around here than molasses at Christmas."

Fingers pressing into the cool berth, she leans over the table a little to scrunch her nose, teasingly.

"I won't tell if you won't," waving between the two of them, she winks lightly, "Our secret. Scouts honor."

Berg's mouth, hanging open on what could well become a swinging hinge of her jaw, snaps closed at the dismissal.

"Oh. Well, uh—thank you, ma'am?" The look on her face matches the phrasing of a question, and the technician sits like that, staring.

For moments longer than one or two. Until the monitor blips sharply, Ruthie turning her hand over to work at the IV stinging in the back of her hand.

"Shit, shit shit—you shouldn't—"

"I feel fine," Ruthie inserts softly with a crooked grin, "But you should probably let them know that."

Thumbing towards the one-way glass, her head gestures in that direction as she drops the IV to the berth, reaching for the monitor now screaming out an orchestra of alarms, chirps, and klaxons.

"I'll sit tight, you go do…whatever it is you techs do, hon."

A wave of her hand sends Berg hustling out of the room like a linebacker, Ruthie busying herself with quieting the monitor.

Alone in the space, silence bleeds from the walls like sterile blood. Clinically white and oppressively bright, her eyes make out the room and its contents briefly, with disinterest.

Another empty berth not but a few feet from her own, rolling trays of surgical utensils. Locked boxes and cupboards of what could only be medical goodies.

The label beside the door reads Surgical Suite, 12B along with escape routes. Fire protocols. Emergency contacts and dial outs.

Pristine, overwhelmingly clean, it doesn't even look like anyone's been in here—aside from her discarded IV, dripping saline and minerals to the permastone floor.

Picking it up, she drapes it over one of the arms of the monitor stand, fingertip lightly skipping over the surgical grade steel blade.

Blowing aside a fallen curl from her face, she catches the movement of her arm in the reflection of the one-way, pausing.

Smiling crookedly at the reflection, she chuckles and tucks a short set of curls behind her ear.

It's not the first time she's actually seen her own avatar, but it's the first time it's been officially sanctioned. Since Eve's kickoff, anyway.

Avatar's had been a regular faction of RDA for decades, even before the war and Sully's insurrections. Augustine's studies, and the data she herself had collected from the planet, had given them more than enough edge to make perfections—and perfections, they were.

Any avatar that could function at the same capacity as Na'vi without looking native and tapping into the demonic energy of the people was a step in the right direction.

Direction that RDA, that humanity needed to successfully colonize.

Establish roots that would outlast them all, give them hope. Second chances were rarely afforded, but this place—Pandora—was divine granted. Inspired, even.

A second chance to course correct in a way the people of Earth never would. Hope in the high places, amongst the stars.

And Eve afforded them all the luxuries navigation of a foreign, hostile world required.

Na'vi avatars—the Adams—had been revolutionary at the time of the Great War; but nearly two decades later, nearly archaic. Prototypes for the big RDA push of the century, humanoid avatars.

Avatars that looked like drivers but functioned as natives. 

Extraordinary devices no longer reliant on the energy connection to the planet and its sentient tyranny; precious luxuries afforded not everyone that passed through the RDA machine. Save a chosen few, soldiers and frontiersmen and pioneers of the sciences and human settlement efforts.

Riches from amongst the ashes of the lost, the reaping of the war.

Sweet fruit, indeed—at a million and a half a pop. Hers had been the first of Eve, the first humanoid avatar analyzed and genetically coded to her own DNA.

One per driver, ever, and irreversible. Adam avatars, too, were permanent fixtures to the DNA of their drivers—Weinfleet, Mansk, all the drivers of the original Na'vi avatars were tethered to their Deja Blues, irreversible and for the long haul.

A necessary evil, for without those Adams, those original prototypes, avatars like hers wouldn't exist—fully human, fully native. The first step towards integration.

Humanity would thrive on Pandora.

It was in the numbers, the cards—a promise. Not so much a hope, these days. A decade ago, they'd dreamed of merely settling outposts here. Breathing stale, purified air and never touching sunlight the way I Am intended.

Crowded by steel and fortressed walls.

But now, with the Eves—it was a step closer. A link to making humans fully hospitable on Pandora.

Tipping her head to the side, Ruthie studied the perfections of the avatar not afforded her I Am-given body. Glassy skin, perfectly hydrated and patterned corkscrew curls; alive and quick eyes that sparkled even brighter than her organic glacier-blues could.

Breathing deeply, her hands brushed over the definition in her arms—the veins and perfect fat-to-muscle ratio for her body type. BMI didn't exist in avatars, something she was sorely thankful for. She wasn't thin in her organic body; her skin wasn't glass and glistening.

She could've been ripped off the cover of a Vogue magazine, if Vogue was into hiring eight-foot-tall super soldiers.

The iteration felt stronger, more alive than those before—more proteins, cleaner neural pathways. Faster reaction time. Clean cut emotions, quick synapses.

No wonder the price of these steadily clawed higher and higher, they improved with nearly every quarter—her bright smile, revealing sparkling albeit still-pesky pointed canines made her shoulders dipped forward.

Couldn't have it all, not even at a million and a half.

Raking her close-cropped curls from her forehead, she turned to sit on the berth she'd risen from. Easily able to pull into a cross-legged position, she rolled her shoulders forward. Back. Neck side to side, pushing her shoulder blades back to feel the tug of muscle, the shift and burn of activation.

Wriggling her toes beneath her, she chuckled at how miraculously easy it was to lean forward. Abs she'd only ever dreamed of engaged, stabilizing her as she reached her arms forward, palms skipping along the cool steel.

Closing her eyes with a smile, her fingers easily slipped through her curls, pulling pleasurably at her scalp. Mind clear for the first time in minutes, head dropping back with a sigh that curled her toes, she relished in the avatar's strength. Its body, perfect and attuned to genetics she'd only wished I Am had granted in her own self.

It felt so good. Vibrant, storybook. Like this was a dream.

And it was, in one sense or another. 

GI Jane can kiss my backsid—

"Well well, look at that—buttercup's up and at'em," the familiar drawl snapped her attention to the door, bolting her upright.

Heart racehorsing against her ribs for a second, it takes only lightspeed to realize it's Lyle kicked back in the suite's doorway. Lounging like he owns the place, and in a way, he does—at nearly ten feet tall, Adam avatars pretty much have say of clearances and classifieds.

"Get some rack, Sleeping Beauty?"

"Lyle," she acknowledges with a nod, lithely moving from the berth to cross over to him, cool smile taking him in.

Crossed arms, RDA fatigues, Oakleys and all.

"I'm not sure you can consider genetic connection as rack time, but to answer the question, sure. I'm okay." Rolling a shoulder, "Feels good, feels right."

"No shit," his nod matches the genuine smile he offers, before pushing out of the doorway to glance at her over the Oakleys, "Doc Berg says you're good to go, figured you'd want some of these."

Stepping beyond the door, he twists to pluck a backpack up from the floor, tossing it forward with a flick of his wrist.

"Colonel wanted to be here, but the General's got his ass in a scouting debrief, like usual."

And that tracked—the only thing Ardmore did better than push papers was run debriefings, which on any given day, were excruciating.

A gauntlet of sterile numbers and eye-crossing data, they were less informational as they were formal, for the books. Padded her numbers and her calendar for the eyes back home.

But, she was meticulous, organized—on a horse higher than than hell, too. The only thing tighter than her regulations was her ass, head shoved so far up the execs of RDA's asses that she may as well be bought and paid for.

Less a soldier and more an RDA performing monkey, she did run a tight outfit. Play by the rules or die was the motto, nonnegotiable.

And if there was one thing about Miles that she knew and knew well was that he played by rules nobody had even heard of. He was wild like that but disciplined.

A lifetime of jarhead responsibilities and blood on the hands did that, sometimes.

Blowing out a breath, "Sounds fun," the only thing more sarcastic than her tone was Ruthie's eyeroll, which broke Weinfleet into a toothy smile.

Automatically her gaze drops to her wrist, which is bare—no watch. Reaching for Lyle's wrist, she glances at the time.

"Two hours? I've been out for two hours?" The jump of alarm in her gut is abrupt, and she drops Weinfleet's arm a little roughly.

"Good lord. What did they do, open brain surgery or something?"

Lyle snorts, nudges her forward with a gentle push to her shoulder. "Don't look at me, buttercup—I just work here," his tongue flicks over a sharp canine smoothly, before he thumbs over his shoulder. "'S'posed to get you those," gesturing to the bag with both index fingers, he slides the Oakleys up his blue dome, "but gotta haul ass back to the DB. You good?"

Anything less would have Lyle's backside in a sling with Miles, and that was unacceptable—even present company accounted for, she knew.

Nodding, she waves him off with a flappable hand, "Squared away, thank you very much. Get lost, smurfy."

With a teasing face, Lyle turned sharply on his heel and jogged off, down the corridor until his sapphire frame was swallowed from view, into the twisting darks of industrial grays and steels.

Huffing a breath, Ruthie reached for the badge clipped to a strap of the PHNX pack, unsnapping it with smooth hands.

Carding it through her fingers, one glance down to the surgical gown sets her jaw sharply.

"Frickin' doctors," her huff is exasperated, pulling at the gown's flimsy material. "Gross."

It's not hard to tag a Quaritch anywhere in Bridgehead City, if one knew where to look.

At any given time Miles was, mostly, in one of three places—or two, if he was driving, but that was just icing on the proverbial cake. Gym, war room, weapons R&D when he was on duty. Home, mess, gym when he was off the clock.

Which, like it or not, was close to never. Marriage taught you a few things about your other half, but it hadn't quite managed to zero in on whereabouts.

Yet, anyway.

Rolling up to the officer sector at eight feet tall was comedic, at best. Frustrating, at worst.

Ducking through the door after scanning her badge into the domicile, it never ceased to remind as to why no driver ever squatted home. Vaulted ceilings, sure, but the space was hardly designed with eight feet tall natives in mind—and neither was the furniture. The couch, Ruthie figured every time she dropped home, would splinter if either of them even dared look that direction. And the rack? Forget it.

Showers were out of the question.

There were alternative lodgings available in the barracks, but the idea of putting up with general population bit like a mother.

Dropping her pack beside the door, she emptied its contents and dressed quickly—her favorite specially manufactured Levi cutoffs, a sports bra, boots and socks, a favorite of her, again, special ordered shirts—a linen safari button down in off-white.

Clothing options for avatars were few and far between, and Miles knew she'd never be caught dead in RDA fatigues outside of in-unit ops.

Wetting her hair with a quick rake of her fingers and a splash of water to her face was enough to freshen up what, technically, didn't even need freshening.

Checking her appearance with a quick glance, she breezed out of the domicile, snatching her IDs and plex while dipping out the door.

Flipping through the plex; no email, no texts, nowhere to be, technically, pointed her feet in the direction of the war room.

It was a quick and effortless march to the sector, avatar legs carrying her faster and farther with less effort that was a breeze. 

Every time connecting back felt like the first time, at least for a while, until the creeping looks of raised brows and uncertainty spearheaded from the general public.

Not everyone interacted with avatars often—the Eves, less so. They were new, they were unusual, they were expensive and highly classified, seeing a Na'vi avatar was more common and less unsettling than seeing an Eve.

Especially one so highly cleared and…. rumored.

Crossing her arms over the plex against her chest, it wasn't long until she found herself at the war room, Ardmore's favorite place to host eternity-defying debriefings.

Corridor quiet, the room indicator was solid scarlet—high level occupied, clearance required. As always.

Brushing curls behind her ear, Ruthie shifted her hip for the badge to scan across the indicator, and immediately if flashed—first with her clearance levels, then with green. 

Granted, thank you very much, Carthier, R.

Satisfied, she slipped through the door on light feet—only to find the entire space had, apparently, flatlined. 

Standing a head and shoulders taller than most in the room was a piece of cake compared to whatever the heck this BS was.

Pulselessly still, she could've cut the wire of the room with a paperclip. Her gut jumped to play chicken with her ribs, eyes tracking around the space for familiar bodies.

Nearly every corporate RDA goon eyeballed her like she'd been dropped from the heavens wearing blinking neon.

She clocked Lyle first, at the back of the room doing his best impression of coughing a grin into his fist; Mansk second, who looked amused while oh-so-masculine manspreading in his comically undersized chair.

White-noise from the holomap smack in the center of the room the only audible sound to the heightened ear, its images did little to hide Ardmore's face from beyond. 

Just my luck. 

Expression pulled into an unreadable look of stone so blank that, for the first time in a hot minute, Ruthaynne actually felt embarrassed heat light up her face like a jetwash.

Heart jackhammering behind her ribs, certainly loud enough to hear for anyone who cared to listen, it took a few seconds to remember exactly where she was—and who, exactly, she was.

Ardmore beat her to it, the bitc—

"Miss Quaritch," the formality of her tone almost stung. Muscle in Ruthie's jaw pulled a little tighter than she appreciated, "Avatar's up and about, seems like. Outstanding you could join us,"

She doesn't mean it. But her nod, professional more than acknowledging, accompanies her hand fanning Ruthie forward, to the inner circle.

Putting up a hand, her return nod is polite. 

Over my dead body, Ardie, "Thanks, General. Please, continue."

And just like that, the room snaps back into business. Data and coordinates, strategy and all the war talk that usually applies to these debriefs.

Ardmore brings up footage from a vest cam, walking the group through the sit rep, and the occupants in the space breathe—bodies shift in seats, sway back and forth on their feet. The rustle of shifting posture, the soft hum of plex's as assistants and the more-interested access data.

Across the room, Mansk bounces his leg, whether in agitation or concentration, one can never tell. Lyle, plucking his knife and flicking the tip with his nail. 

Boys.

The plex under her arm chimes, and a quick glance shows it's an airdrop from one of the assistants. A faceless name, but one that's been in her inbox before.

Accessing the data, Ruthie begins the download. Flips through some of the radar images, head tilted to the side in concentration.

Sully's forces, bolder than before—four dead on an expedition to a science outpost. Images captured young Na'vi, no more than 12 or 13, armed and painted in various war paints and tribal colors—

QUARITCH, MILES 9 o'clock, cupcake ;)

The message takes precedence, dismissing the briefing intel and snapping her attention up, around the room.

It's odd, looking down and about the space from eight feet tall with perfect eyesight her organic body doesn't know— it's beautiful, really.

Bottom lip rolling beneath her top teeth, she flinches a little as the pointed canines bite a little sharply into her flesh. Hissing, her tongue lathes over the spot, quickly skipping over her back teeth.

Darkening the plex's screen, her eyes cut sharply to her 9 o'clock—and sure enough.

Gotcha. 

Almost ten-foot frame hovering at the back of the space, the good Colonel sees her make him with a lift of his chin. A slow smile puts sparkling white teeth on display, so at odds against sapphire skin and glowing green eyes unlike anything she's ever seen.

Smiling back at him, he dips his head ever so slightly, crooking a lithe finger for her to come.

Attention ever on the General, should prying eyes dare to drift.

And good I Am, he's as delicious as he ever has been, damned Na'vi genetics aside.

Heart thudding a little harder against her ribs, moisture at the back of her throat vanishes, and suddenly it's warmer in here than she remembers as his smile softens into a little smirk, probably clocking her shift of posture.

Shoulders falling back subconsciously, her chin levels with the floor and nods to him once, him settling back into his akimbo stance.

It's not unusual for Quartich to drive his avatar, especially on days field ops are likely. And with Sully on the move, bolder and badder than ever, those days are less few and far between.

It's mandatory to have 24 out hours after every 36 driving, and Miles had just gone in before she had. They'd said their "see you laters" over coffee at mess this AM, him kissing her temple chastely before hustling out to head a safety meeting.

And while driving avatars was business as usual for both of them, there never ceased to be a little leap of excitement, seeing him bold and all big boy blue.

Knowing it was him, actually Miles, only added to the little swirl of thrill chasing her gut down the length of her spine.

Melding across the room behind backs of the tuned-in, Miles' low hand guides her to his side at elbow, her feet one-over-the-other without much conscious effort.

Brushing against his side, he plucks the plex from her fingers and sets it aside, on the chair behind him, on top of his own. Out of sight, out of mind.

Nobody moves to notice her relocation, his large hand resting firmly at the low of her back while his other grabs her wrist, guiding her to stand in front of him.

Shoulders pressing against the warmth of his chest, one of his arms slipped around her middle, locking in close. His other hand moves to rub one of her curls between his long fingers, knuckles brushing against the back of her neck.

He's warm, almost too warm—his hand wrapping around the back of her neck, kneading muscles slowly and with care, triggers a glance over her shoulder to him.

"You're up," The slow drawl in his voice is unnecessarily low, deliberate. "Wanted to be there, darlin', really did—we got hit, lost a few of the lab coats," the empathy in his voice is hardly there, Miles was never one to dwell on losses.

Easier that way, from a certain standpoint.

"You feelin' all there?"

Nodding, she shuffled back against his chest a little more, boots catching on the floor. Head dropping to rest against his pec, Ruthie focuses her attention on Ardmore's holo readouts—or, rather, attempts. 

His fingers rubbing the hem of her shirt are distracting, rough knuckles warm against her abdomen in ways that distract more than just her attention.

Hand moving from the back of her neck to rest atop his other at her middle, he angles his head to brush his nose along the shell of her ear, softly. In a rare public display of affection, attachment.

Stomach jumping up what feels like the length of her spine, his chortle is nearly undetectable. She only feels it against her back, deep in his chest—his breath over her ear is laced with the clear, brisk mint he always seems to manage from that gum he likes so much.

His head turns to rest against hers, and he takes a long breath of her hair, the slow crest of his chest almost dizzying.

"Avatar looks good'nuff to eat, darlin'," she can hear the smile before she feels it, one of his hands easily slipping beneath the hem of her shirt to brush a nail over the button of her shorts.

"Weinfleet told me you looked good. Little shit—lookin' at another man's things."

The thought of being a possession should be off-putting, should nip at the veins of her pride, but it does the opposite—it sparks satisfaction, low and deep, at the base of her spine, the cradle of her hips.

The smirk in his tone deepens, if that's possible. And it is, she knows that. Experience, logged time.

"Gotta give him credit, though—man knows a good thing when he sees it."

Lower lip rolling inward, Ruthie shifts a little on her feet, rocking back on her heels in an attempt to move away from his hands, teasing and probing the waist of her shorts, which are suddenly too stifling, but somehow not enough all at the same time.

Even after a decade of being together, of racking together and exchanging vows—he's still all the cocksure ego she remembers of him when he'd first pursued.

He still can reduce her to a gelatinous mass, little more cohesive than a brainless bimbo.

Then, at the beginning, she'd been brash and all bravado and untamed.

A wild thing, chasing stars and hope. Indestructible.

Now—older, wilder, wholly ruinable. Drunk on him. On avatars, on promise of what Pandora could be. On the future and Project Eve and the inevitable tumble of Jake Sully's abominable destruction of a dream.

And Miles knows it, always has, just like he knows exactly how to piston her mind away from a scouting debrief with little more than touch and the right smile.

And I Am, what she wouldn't give for a quiet space, time alone—time alone that seems nonexistent, almost unreal.

Eyes skate across the room, looking for any wandering attention.

Nobody seems to have noticed them in the back of the room, which isn't the usual. Most of the time Miles is front and center, the flagship of Ardmore's efforts. The pillar everyone can count on.

But today, he's a man of the shadows, a man of the native world hidden away from the everyday. And she couldn't be more thankful, because the way his hand grazes her shiny new abs just the right way has, she's sure, unraveled her face into an Ardmore-show stopping expression.

Hand pressing against the sculpted muscle of her middle, he sucks in a chortling breath a little too suggestively.

"Oh? What's this?" His fingers curl lightly into her abdomen, and she sucks in a breath that feels louder than it actually is, "Well, look at that—these are new," he chuckles, amused, before his hand lifts to brush curls away from her ear.

"Life's a bitch, ain't it? Takes half a life and rights to your firstborn to get 'em real time, but just a nap and a few test tubes and, just like that," softly imitating a snap of his fingers, Miles pulls her closer, if possible.

Brushes aside the collar of her shirt to press chapped lips against her collarbone.

"Makes you wonder what else these things are capable of, hm?"

Oh god.

"You're not paying attention, Colonel," angling her head back against his chest, her fingers curl around the collar of his RDA issued shirt, pulling sharply. "The good General is trying to get you up to speed for your next hop, sir."

And with that, she firmly stabs her elbow into his abdomen, satisfied with the little huff he manages.

"...and what makes you think I don't already gotta handle on this intel, ma'am?"

And that could be a point of contention, if she'd been an underprepared participant in his little game of cat and mouse.

"Well, Quaritch," it simmers low at the base of her chest, teasing and dark, "you know what they say about assuming."

Biting the corner of her lip, Ruthie grabbed his wrist and pulled it back, sharply enough to earn another huff of surprise.

"Be a good boy at work, Colonel, and I might just have a surprise for you when you get home."

Reaching around behind him for his braid, Ruthie feels it snake around her arm loosely, before taking a handful and giving a rough tug.

Off his game, the good Colonel stepped back sharply, allowing her just enough leverage to skirt from his reach.

Slipping behind him, she nabbed the plex from his chair, tucked it under her arm, and pulled lightly on his braid again.

Quaritch's head snapped back just enough for her to gently nudge the shell of his ear.

"Stand at attention, Marine. That's an order." Her hiss is calm, quiet.

And she's sure he can clock the smile in her voice, releasing the Na'vi braid with a smirk.

Obedient, the curve of his back straightened just so, making her grin. Sidling up to his right, she raised on toes to press a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth.

"Very good, Colonel. I'm impressed."

Clapping a hand against his abs, she went to step back, brows wagging juvenilely.

"Not so fast," and it's louder than it should be.

Loud enough that a few uniforms look over their shoulders, intrigued. Miles, ever the pillar of strength and unashamed bravado he so exudes, frowns at them before his sharp green eyes lid, tail flicking a little aggressively.

"Eyes forward, gentlemen. When there's something to see back here, I'll tell you to grow eyes."

Horrified, her mouth drops open before she swats at his shoulder, hissing darkly.

"Miles!"

Eyes darting between the backs of the uniforms he's just startled and his lidded look of superiority, her stomach pitches with embarrassed somersaults as heat chases up the length of her neck.

And before she can lose her composure and giggle at the wag of his suggestive brow, she frowns at him.

"You're such a prick," it's not entirely unserious, but the smile behind his eyes tells her it's only fueled the innuendo of the moment.

"Yeah? That may be," his brows lift before his lower lip rolls beneath his top teeth, canines practically glinting in whatever low light the back of the room would offer, "but I think you like it, ain't that so? Darlin' little wife."

And with that, he steps up into her personal space, towering even her full eight feet—sharp eyes alive, wandering. Lustful, possessive. 

Hungry.

No—starving. 

Frickin' Na'vi DNA, packed with hormones not fully explored by the human psyche.

Slipping beyond the snatching reach of his hand with a teasing smile and a roll of her eyes, Ruthie hushedly excuses herself from amidst the uniforms dotted around the back of the room.

Without drawing Ardmore's attention, she scans from the room, dipping low under the door and out into the corridor. Where the air is cool, there isn't a thousand and one attentions keyed into the cat and mouse games of her husband, where she can breathe.

She doesn't make it five strides from the sealed door before it slips open with a mechanical whine, Ardmore's droning audible for only a second before it bangs back into place, flashing a secure scarlet for high clearance access.

But the door is barely noticeable, not from beyond the full nearly nine feet of Miles Quaritch's Na'vi, staring hard and long, thumbs hooked through the loops of his cargoes.

"And what are you doing?" Brow furrowed, she looks beyond him, to the door. "Miles. Get your ass back in that meeting," all teasing gone, his exit from Ardmore's briefing is the biggest of offenses—a slap in the face, defiance to not only Ardmore, RDA, but his men.

He knows better. And for a second, Ruthie wonders if maybe she's crossed a line—but if a decade together has told her anything, it's not that.

No, Quaritch is not the man that abandons his men to have it out with his wife in the corridor. Not in the long game.

It's something else, a thing she can't quite put a finger on. She doesn't know this face, his Na'vi well enough to read anything that resembles his usual, and she isn't sure if it's terrifying or thrilled butterflies that threaten her spine like a tarmac.

Mouth opening to further her protest, he's to her in one stride, dangerous hands on either side of her face enough to cut any word she could think of forming off at the throat.

And before she can even breathe, his mouth is on hers—hungry, ravenous, compelling.

The force of it sends her backwards enough that she loses her feet, but he's faster, arm catching her around the middle and pulling her forward, close. Close enough to feel the steady drum of his heart behind carbon-enforced ribs, the pull of muscle engages, as he tips her forward, against his chest.

The world beyond—Pandora, Ardmore, RDA, Bridgehead—fades into black and whites not wholly unlike an ancient film, the only thing living color and wild him, right here, beneath her touch and coaxing her lips apart with his.

Mint, sweat, the taste of whatever he's eaten is rich, so there and alive with every gentle pull and push of his jaw, every bite and nip of his teeth against her lips.

It's determined, possessive, demanding, pulling a pathetic little mewl from the back of her throat she doesn't remember since the beginning of him, the beginning of this.

And if her hands were large, his were larger, his thumb running up and down her jaw, applying pressure to adjust the angle, the tilt of where he wants her, how deeply he needs this. Noses bump, brush, and one inhale of the way he smells—strong, powerful, of a musk unexplainable to humanity—sends her mind spinning, her heart cascading like a falling star between her ribs.

His kiss is powerful, it demands. 

Touch me, feel me–ever only me in a way that sends bolts of electricity to every heightened nerve in her body. It leads, it guides—it sets the pace, it rescues everything and anything that could be set wrong.

His thick fingers through her hair, tugging at her scalp triggers her teeth at his bottom lip, canines pulling sharply enough to elicit a groan from somewhere in his chest she can't even fathom.

All the years of this, of him, and it's never once failed to feel new, like the first time—Miles kisses her, and the world unfolds, like fiction. Like something anyone ever said couldn't be real.

Fingers tugging at her hair drags a punched out little whine from the back of her throat, which he swallows with a groan.

Head spinning and chest burning, the need for air claws like a demon.

Breaking apart, her head falls back to suck in air, chest rising and falling shallowly as she attempts to blink away the rabid color the world has suddenly become.

Eyes closed, Miles lazily nips at her bottom lip, pulling just a little as his hand gently cradles the side of her face, the heat that's blushed her cheeks to a hot, thrilling pink.

Her head rights, and he lowers his to rest his forehead against hers, breath fanning across her face in low, hardly-controlled breaths. It's so unlike him, to be so unraveled. Uncomposed.

Hair clings to the tacky sweat that's pearled across her forehead, and his nose brushes the tip of hers, lovingly. Tenderly.

Taking his hand, she gently guides it beneath her left breast, to cover the racing pulse in her chest.

"I miss you," is all he breathes, and it's strange—strange because he hasn't been gone, she's always been here.

And it hangs there for a few heartbeats, until it makes sense. He misses her. Miles.

Not the Na'vi shell of the man she's known for a decade, what feels like half her lifetime—Miles, somewhere in an avatar lab, somewhere that's not here.

Swallowing each of her breaths, which have started leveling, he kisses her again, softly. Aftercare, the intimacy he so rarely offers outside the confining fortress of marriage.

"I'll see ya later, yeah?"

It's rough, low. Growling, tainted with his drawl that has become like home.

A soft nod breaks them apart, kiss swollen lips stinging as he steps back towards the door, creating distance.

And the corner of his mouth ticks up in a pleased little smirk as she rubs her jaw, fresh red marks from his possessive hands warm to the touch. More than visible.

"I'd imagine so," her smile is purposefully resigned.

Floored, he grins. Tongue skating over too-sharp teeth. His nod is concrete, firm as he passes his badge in front of the security system, flashing his credentials before a bright, clearance green.

And he does come home.

Again, and again.

[lastofthewardens]

after tonight's episode, i'm just kind of sat here

thinking about why it's so hard for adaptations to just respect source material these days.

not really related to anything that happened. i don't watch the episodes, i won't do it unless i hear foggy is back. i read about what happened and see some relevant clips on social media and that's it.

i know the original show wasn't perfect in this regard but it captured the spirit of many things imo. it's certainly not above criticism, but i think they cared, generally speaking. and there are many adaptations in the past that have made changes but still largely functioned as love letters to the source material. i think the original show did a good job at balancing things, for the most part.

so i don't expect 1 to 1 adaptations of stuff. i really don't. but i do expect respect, and for certain ingredients to be included and matter, because otherwise, what's even the point, right?

the reason this came up is, i was on twitter today and saw some clips from a k*tie c*ssidy interview talking about when her character got killed off on arr*w, and it made me remember how mad that made me. i started reading gr*en arr*w comics specifically BECAUSE i was so pissed about that choice when it happened in season 4. (at which point i learned much more about the source material and had many other issues but still).

it's funny because.. i remember so clearly that when arr*w killed off bl*ck c*nary, the arr*w subreddit changed to be a daredevil subreddit for a while. it was funny as hell, just everyone united under the idea that killing her off was just wildly stupid. the ratings of the show went down when she died! that's how much people cared about comic book integrity and respect for the source material.

and make no mistake, killing bl*ck c*nary in a gr*en arr*w show was WILD. most of the fandom KNEW that was an insane choice because of how important she is to arr*w lore. but foggy gets killed in daredevil and parts of the fandom.. what? praise the show so hard you can't say anything bad without getting downvoted on reddit? lmao

truly the meme of die a hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

i don't know. foggy is a necessary part of daredevil to me. i don't want to watch a show without him. i don't feel that killing him off shows an understanding of any of these characters or the things that matter to daredevil as a character/story/source material. sure, it's nice to hear matt say wonderful things about foggy, and even i have to admit that that one particular scene was well done, but i don't want that in retrospect, i want matt to be able to say those things to his face. i want foggy to be there in all of the places he should've been in all of these plots. i don't think telling another story about grief is worth losing his entire place in the narrative.

like even if i somehow eat my words and foggy comes back alive (i'm not letting myself hope and i got bad vibes that it's going to stick after watching that scene with frank because that was A Lot for a fake death), i'll be happy to have him back, sure, i'll go back and watch the show, yeah, but.. it doesn't really erase all the problems that exist from this choice being made at all. it just makes them slightly more tolerable because there'd be a light at the end of the tunnel. but this show will never be the same again. they've already covered things and plan to cover things that foggy should be there for, and it's just so noticeable to me that he's not.

my wife and i have been discussing this pretty much since ep 1 came out basically because i've been very upset. i keep telling her that this show is "missed opportunities: the show", and i really believe that. every time i hear about something that happened, or a plot point that could've been cool, or an adaptation that missed something out, i can only think of how much better it would've been in the hands of the old team or even just a different team.

but these days, they don't care about these things. they're not hired to care about these things, they're hired to make something that will make as much money as possible. arr*w only brought back k*tie c*ssidy because their ratings went down.

it's just a huge shame that adaptations now just constantly want to do their own thing and subvert expectations. like.. i guess it's just me, but that's absolutely not what i want. i don't want my expectations subverted, i want to see my favorite stories either continued or brought to life in ways that show love and care. i know i can just watch the original show or read the comics or whatever, but man, i miss adaptations being made by people who just genuinely love the source material. you can always tell the difference, always.

[beef-brisket]

Lucifer wiped his forehead and fell onto the couch. This place got dirty, way too fast for his liking. But it wasn't like Adam was doing much to help.

After being in Hell for a few weeks, Lucifer was slowly getting used to everything. Not that he's gone out much.

Although his mind has been preoccupied with this dump and its owner, he would often think about Charlie. He hoped she was okay and not missing him too much.

It took him a few days to realise that she was probably the one who found him.

When he heard a key rustle in the door, Lucifer shot up to his feet and watched as Adam walked in.

When the goat didn't acknowledge him and slammed the door, Lucifer knew he had a bad day of... whatever it is he does.

Adam: ...The fuck are you looking at?

Lucifer: Uh... nothing.

Another thing he's gotten used to was how quickly Adam's mood can change. One minute, he'll be fine, and then the next, he'll be raging. It was scary at first, but Adam never touched him when he was mad, not like Lilith did...

He doesn't throw things, though.

That's why when Adam stormed over until he was right in front of Lucifer, the blonde demon didn't react.

Adam: You're fucking looking at me- and you call thy "nothing"?! I'm fucking nothing to you?!

Lucifer: Adam, breathe, that's not at all what I meant.

Adam: Bull-fucking-shit! If you hate me that fucking much- then fuck off like the rest if them!

He said nothing as Adam stormed off to his room and slammed that door. He was going to have to replace the hinges at some point.

Lucifer sighed. It was like living with the worst teenager possible. That's when his mind drifted to the first time he summoned Adam, and- ...he wasn't supposed to know his name. But surely that big bastard wouldn't be stupid enough to tell Lucifer his real name. But, maybe if Lucifer could find it in his apartment, he would have something to use whenever Adam got like this.

Maybe he could make him do some cleaning, too. Or at least cook dinner a few nights of the week.

If this tantrum was like the others, he should have a few hours to look. And when Lucifer found a pile of papers in a nook in the kitchen, he hoped he hit the motherload.

Lucifer: Maybe it's something stupid like... Abduxel. Or something even worse like... Barry.

-

Lucifer: A ha!

After looking for who knows how long, Lucifer found a bottle of pills that had some information on it.

He couldn't read the name of the medication, but he definitely saw a name.

Lucifer: Adam... wait- seriously? He used his fucking real name?!

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Lucifer put the bottle back and cleaned up the small mess he made. And it was just in time to, he heard Adam walking around before leaving his room.

Turning to face the demon, Lucifer really hoped he was in a better mood.

Adam: Right, later bitch!

Lucifer: Wait- where are you going?

Adam: Out. Don't wait up.

Lucifer glanced at the food that he had JUST put on the stove: Adam- I'm making dinner-.

Adam: Pft, don't worry about it, Lu. I'll get some drinks with my mate tonight. I probably won't be back for a few hours, so uh... later!

The blonde glared at Adam as he pulled his jacket on. He had his name. He could give him a huge middle finger and force him to stay home. Or even better, cook fucking dinner.

Adam: What's that look? Oh, don't tell me you're going to act like a girl about this. Come on, Lucifer! If it'll make your period feel better I'll buy you some chocolates~.

Lucifer's eyes twitched as the demon was almost curled over laughing. It wasn't that fucking funny, but maybe whatever expression Lucifer had made it pure gold to Adam.

Lucifer: Fucking brat.

House husband!Lucifer summoning goat!demon Adam for personal reasons 👀

But things quickly go wrong when he accidentally releases the demon and it eats all of his food, and tries to kill his wife.

Woops 🤷

RIP Lilith lol

-

Lucifer wasn't sure about this but what else did he have to lose? Ouji boards are sold in toy stores for children, if an 8 year old can summon a demon so can he.

He just needs a break........ Lilith had been so demanding lately and he doesn't know what else to do to relax and make her happy.

Nothing seems to make her happy at the moment and when she's not happy, no one under their roof is happy.

A demon summoning might seem a bit silly or extreme, but Lucifer doesn't know what else to do. Worst case scenario it just doesn't work and he wasted $10 on a book.

Lucifer: Here goes nothing.

He drew the symbol on the floor and stood a good distance away before saying the words.

Lucifer didn't expect it to work.

But it did.

The symbol glowed a demonic red color and a tall goat demon appeared in front of him.

Lucifer: Holy shit......

Adam: Who dares-!?........ Oh my Satan you're adorable!