#idk i was just kinda bothered that people were like

[tojisteddy]

If you have a problem, Toji can easily correct it.

cw: 3.1k words (dawg it was NOT supposed to be that long), brat! taming, oral (m receiving), face fucking, piv, overstím, dom/sub dynamic, dacryphilia, dub-con, punishment, breath play (kinda idk), Daddy (?) kink, creampie, spanking, pet names (baby, sweet girl, doll, mama, ma), no use of y/n, just plain debauchery.

No because Toji has to have his hands on you. Whether it be your hips, your back, your neck, your ass, hand holding, his arm around your shoulders— anything to let him know you were in arms reach and close. It wasn’t like he was a needy fuck, no, not some strict spouse that didn’t let you do your own thing.

But when you were together, he wanted— no— had to keep you near, you needed to be together.

But today, since you’d left from your place and to the bar with friends, you’d been avoiding his touch.

Purposely.

Just wanting to test the waters out since you didn’t mind constantly being close. He was your spouse after all. Unless you said otherwise, he could touch you anytime he wanted.

His hand went for your back for the sixth time tonight and there you were, silently shifting out of his reach as you went on and on to your friend about some twitter gossip he didn’t give a fuck about. He was being oh-so patient with you but you were being a brat.

He looked over at you who acted as if all was well with the world and hysterically laughed to himself, fuck, you were good.

Toji put down his beer he couldn’t be bothered to finish. His hand slowly making its was around your shoulder, you were trying to get out of his grasp yet again. But he snuggled you close, a casual look on his face as he replied to something a friend said. He’d looked down at you with a glint in his emerald eyes.

‘keep it up.’

It was silent, unnoticeable to those around you.

Fuck, you were 10-0, you knew you were losing and had already lost the game you were playing. But sometimes you gotta shoot for the stars, aim for the moon, make a slam dunk when you don’t even know the first steps to playing basketball!

So you went for an illegal home run on bullshit.

Avoiding Toji’s gaze, his touch, his voice— hell— going to get another drink you were gonna pass off to your friend just to get away from him. You were hitting all the bases, and with knowing smile, you jumped on home plate.

Imagine giggling and waving with a stupid grin on your face on national tv after losing the championship game knowing the coach was about to hound on you like the second rapture— it was like that when the night came to an end.

You both said your goodbyes without any issue, Toji’s hand at the small of your back like a gun.

‘Keep still.’

He didn’t need to say anything, you didn’t have to try anymore, he’d give you what you wanted.

~~•~~

“Hmmaahh Toji—“

“No.”

“Papaaa.”

“God damn, you’re so loud— Shut. The fuck. Up.”

You regretted it.

Seriously, you regretted it.

If you had, had your lawyers (you) properly look over the legal documents (aka the current situation) before you signed it, they would’ve snatched the pen away and burned it.

Counting.

A “game” Toji suggested you two play when you got back home. No matter how much music played, or the way Toji made casual conversation with you about your shared plans for tomorrow despite his knuckles turning white as he gripped the steering wheel— there wasn’t enough room in the car for you to say no.

The game consisted of you having to count to 100 as Toji’s large hand laid excruciating slaps to your ass. It was fine the first ten but then you got to 20, and then suddenly— you groaned, gripping onto the older man’s pants leg. As if he, of all people, was going to save you from this situation.

“Thirrty threeee.”

He scuffed, “Don’t tell me you can’t count. Start over.”

“Wha- Toji!”

“I won’t repeat myself.”

Another painful smack. You hiccuped, looking back at Toji who was looking down at you emotionless. As if he was telling you, ‘We can start again, it doesn’t matter to me.’

“O-one.”

“Keep going.”

“T-twooo.”

You were slurring your words, tears coming out of your face and you lost count again around 40

But that wasn’t good enough, he’d rangled you to the floor and on your knees (he knew your ass hurt and made sure to give you a quick break, a sweetheart :) ), forcing your mouth open without a care about how you felt and putting the tip of his swelling cock to your pretty, moisturized lips. Not wanting to make him any more upset, you opened your mouth. You expected praise because that’s what Toji always did, but instead your head got pressed to go further down his manhood. You went to take the base of it with your hands but Toji slapped them away.

“Keep your hands to yourself baby. No touching tonight.”

And what the hell did that mean?

Even though a third of his girthy cock was in your mouth, and he was still gripping your hair to get closer— there’s no way he expected you to take all of him, there’s absolutely no way.

“Relax your cute little throat, or I’ll shove it all in. Your choice.”

Shit.

“Theeeere you go, baby. Therrrre you go! Look like a fucking slut trying to take all ‘f me, good thing I’m here help, right?”

Toji was big, too big. To the point, you couldn’t breathe as he slowly gave you the last few inches of his dick. But fuck, the less you were able to breathe the more you relaxed. It oddly made you feel good. You could hear your clit pulsing as Toji pulled your head back, causing you to gasp and then shoving it back in before you got the chance to breathe. In and out, in and out, in and out, in—

The man gripped the curls, that took you so long to define each and every strand, his cock leaking even more at the sight of you. You were so perfect. Hopless but perfect.

“Your pretty mouth— shiit— must’ve been made for this. All you wanted to do was take this dick. Haaa, prove tuh Papa how bad you are but you only want me to abuse that tight fucking throat of yours.”

You had precum falling down your chin to your breasts, his balls slapping against you every single time he thrusted into your tight ass mouth, you could hear the sound of squelching in your mouth— it was filthy.

But the way Toji looked down at you, his emerald eyes looking as you were the scum of the earth— God, you couldn’t get enough of it.

Your nose was touching the black pubic hairs, your glanced up, his head thrown back, moans unable to escape him because you felt so damn good. That sight alone, turned you on further, a harsh moan coming around Toji’s veiny cock.

You were a moaning disheveled, disgusting, mess after that. You felt good simply knowing you were the one making Toji lose himself around you. It wasn’t helping the lack of air going to your brain. Your gummy walls were fluttering and hard, your brain felt foggy, all you could focus on was Toji and Toni ramming into your mouth like you were the only person on earth. You felt his cock twitch at the back your throat and suddenly, your mouth warm. Film to the brim with a thick, white substance.

“Swallow.”

Toji shoved you off of him and you fell to the floor. Gasping for air, cum dripping from your chin but your mouth was empty, and your cunt sopping in your panties, fucking clenching again and again for him. You weren’t just trying to catch your breath from his thick member being in your mouth, your chest out disheveled breaths, your legs were shaking— and Toji knew that lazy, stupid look like the back of his hand.

A deep, bellowed laugh came from the man’s stomach as he looked down at you. You’d unknowingly came. Untouched.

“Fuck, since when could you— shit mama.”

He was shaking his head, delirious with the thought, you were complete and utter putty in his hands.

“Again.”

“Huh?”

“Come on, suck it again. You’re not done.”

Toji wasn’t one to usually do punishments, there was no need to. You knew better.

But it was things like this that, in the grand scheme of things, weren’t a big deal. But Toji always made it very clear to you when he was angry— that it wasn’t just bully!Toji fucking with you. This was asshole!Toji who was gonna drag you down to hell with him, the one who you’d think is calm but had a knife behind his back, the one you actually pissed off and the one who would make it so very clear— you didn’t need to try it again.

Your eyes were puffy from crying so much, snot kept trying to come out that you kept sniffing back up and rubbing away, full lips swollen from taking his large cock to the hilt, your ass was completely red, you could practically see the hand prints on your brown skin, bite marks and hickies only left around your thighs, and your poor, sopping cunt was sore. Your clit was begging for mercy.

Above all else, this whole time: Toji wouldn’t hold you.

Wouldn’t let you wrap your arms around his back or shoulders when he was drilling you into oblivion, wouldn’t let you use his chest when you were riding him, kept your hands above your head or pinned them to the side, wouldn’t kiss you or even bite you. He wouldn’t even grip onto your hips for leverage as he was fucking from the back or as you rode him, only grabbing you by the hair or giving your ass a hard smack.

“No. Take all of it.”

“Stop it, you know how to move. Fuck it like it’s yours.”

“We don’t touch each other, now do we Doll?”

You’d apologized numerous times already, saying anything that could come to mind that would make the man happy but, no. Toji wouldn’t accept it, hell- he didn’t even give the idea of your apology the time of day. Your movements had come to a sudden stop, taking a few deep breaths. You needed a break, a minute— maybe a vacation after this. The man had spent hours eating you out like Jesus at the last meal till you snatched his head away by his hair.

Another mistake.

He’d had you sat in his lap, riding his cock, your hands hold your chest because ‘touching isn’t allowed.’ He kept you cumming, kept you shaking, kept your whimpering for more, more, more.

It didn’t satisfy you.

You hated how you felt, it made your heart ache, you felt nauseous. You felt unloved, detestable, abandoned— even though you knew Toji loved you. How he adored every inch of you, and you him. The older man was right there, in arms reach literally, you’d been taking all of his borderline monster cock tonight, everywhere he wanted, but he wouldn’t because you weren’t a good—

Oh, fuck.

No, you were really gonna cry. Like hyperventilating, sobbing on the floor after a terrible day of work and you can’t find the food your mind was dead set on eating cry. The sob was building in the back of your throat, more tears stung your eyes, your hands were shaking slowly reaching up his stomach. Trying again, the words unable to come out.

‘Please.’

Toji saw it, you were an inch shy from going into sub drop. He had looked like he was bored of you, but his eyes followed your every move. How your hips shook when he gave you one thrust to keep moving. Or how you’d tilt your head, curls following to the side of your face when you called out to him, for him to do anything to you.

Problem was, Toji didn’t just want you to feel what he felt earlier tonight— he wanted to completely ache for his touch. Even to go as far as pleading with the devil just for him to brush his fingers against your chin.

If you had to be a sobbing, babbling mess, so be it.

You were his to fuck up, his to fix, and his to discipline. And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Your weary eyes stuck on him, you looked so helpless, how precious, his sweet doll. Toji quickly put out the cigarette that he’d gotten half way through, motioning you over with one finger.

“Come ‘ere.”

Hell.

You were having an outer body experience. You felt your body fall on him, the sob escaped without a second thought, you clung to him as hard as you could. Your nails scratching his lower back as he held you tight. The two of you were practically blending together.

“Sorryy, ‘m sorry Papa- I-I-I didn’t mean toooo!”

That was a lie, but he knew what you meant. Though you usually stayed in your lane, sure you pissed him off now and then, but you were his brat, weren’t you?

“ ‘S okay baby, but just don’t like it when I can’t touch you. Told ya that before, didn’t I? You should listen to me next time, yeah?”

It didn’t sound comforting.

It never was.

But when you were in his big arms, the smell of cigarettes and a hint of oak on him, his soft kisses on your teary cheeks, the sound of his heart beat— you felt so reassured. Treasured. Cared for.

He hummed, sitting you up, still sitting on his fat, pulsing cock. He took your pretty face in his calloused hands, thumbs gently at the fallin tears. You leaned into his touch, fuck you loved his hands. So big, warm, veins all over them, they could be so sweet sometimes but so damn mean. Regardless of what happened, you’d be craving to feel them.

“What’s the safe word, [+]? Tell me.”

You sniffed, “dear.”

The older man’s hands slowly went down your sides, to your bruised hips, gently rubbing circles with his fingers.

“Wanna say it? ‘S okay if you do. Big girls say it.”

The room was still, the only sound was the both of your breathing and your soft sniffles. You kept rubbing your face, trying to get yourself together after being at your lowest and then being brought back up. Your hand gripped onto Toji’s bicep, just trying to feel him, any of him.

“Don’t need to. I’m okay.”

“Yeah?” He hummed, “Then whatd’ya wanna do baby? Whatever you want.”

Your voice cracked, it was embarrassing but who gives a shit? You needed him. You were desperate for him.

“Fuck, need you to hold me Toji!” you mewled.

Like a switch, the man was on you. Yanking you back down to him, slamming your hips down on him while thrusting up into you like his life depended it.

He loved snapping his hips up to meet yours, the gorgeous sight of your ass and hips rippling was droll worthy. He rasped, “Attaa girl, haaa, atta. fuckin. girl. Handle it so well ma. ”

“Toojiii!” Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, mouth agape as you took every harsh thrust against your cervix. It was all so much, your chests pressed against each other. Toji’s breath was right your ear, biting your earlobe then sucking the sensitive area, his hands holding your two sore ass cheeks, using it as leverage— just what you needed.

“Love you! I— hmmm— love you, fuckin love you Papa! Sooo mu-ughh!”

“I knoooow mama,” he snickered, you were such a love sick baby, “bein so sweet f’ me. I love you baby.”

You moaned at his words, your heart swelling right along with your cunt. Pussy clenching around him and he groaned. He slammed you down on him even faster, even swiveling your hips around so you could cum.

“Toj—“

“Fuck, come on sweet girl, know you want to. Get there, hfff- fuckin make a pretty mess like you always do.”

You felt your lungs leave your body, quickly patting Toji’s shoulder as you quickly sat up, shattering around his dick. But Toji wouldn’t let you go, sitting up further against the headboard of the bed, taking your legs and throwing them over his biceps, his hands gripping into the two mounds of your bruised ass. Tip rubbing your folds that were crying ones, filled with plenty of white tears.

Toji eased his monster dick back into you, your mixed cum gushing out of you getting a moan out of him. He was drunk off you.

“Toji- ca- aagh! I can’t.” You hiccuped, using your hands to try and take him out of you. But he held you tighter putting your foreheads together with a huff,

“You can, hmm- shiit baby— you will.”

He was already slowly, slamming you down as hard as could. Your gummy walls, basically begging the older man not to let go of him. You two were huffing and puffing in each other’s open mouths, one of your hands going around Toji’s shoulder, the other griping his jet black hair that felt so nice between your fingers.

“Gonna— gotta give it to you just how you need, huh mama? Hmm— fuck meee baby— Just needed your Toji to set you straight.”

Your toes curled, a ‘yes papa.’ Leaving your pretty dark pink lips.

“Shit— kiss me Doll. Kiss me while you cum on my cock.”

Your lips immediately went to his, deliriously molding his pink lips to your two tone ones. It was sloppy, his tongue was at the back of your throat, you could hear how fucking wet it was a yards away. A string of saliva forming every time you pulled away for air.

His thrusts were slow, but they were so fucking mean, kissing your cervix every time he slammed you back down to the base of his cock, then lifted you up, up, up so the mushroom tip was almost hanging out then back down, so you would feel every. single. ridged vein, every pulse that ran through his manhood.

Your climax is like a punch to the gut, you scream into Toji’s mouth and he bit your lip. Immediately tipping over at the feeling of your walls clutching onto him like you needed his milk.

Your body shook as the black dots in your eyes consumed you. Toji brushes your hair back, fully enamored at the sight of you, leaving tender kisses around you neck and chest, heavily breathing from everything you two have just done.

“Good fuckin girl.”

[redk1ss3s]

Off Limits. ||Nam-gyu||

Just so happens your Thanos’ ex at the games. And to Thanos you’re off limits. But why should Nam-Gyu listen to him? After all- you’re your own person.

Warnings • Blowjobs, Bathroom bjs, Cursing, (and more?.. idk im not good at warnings😭🤞🏻)

A/n • First time writing.. kinda nervous.. anyways if you don’t like Nam-gyu keep on scrolling- MORE FOR ME! —MDNI—

ꨄ︎ You, sitting over on your bunk just eating. Meanwhile Nam-gyu is staring.. and staring.. and- jesus does he have a staring problem? You think, giving him slight glances over. What was his problem?

ꨄ︎ God you were pretty. “Nam-su, whats ya lookin’ at.” Thanos spoke after done talking to Min-su. “Its Nam-gyu.. that girl over there- damn she-“ “Nahhh.” he leans over just so his hes right up to his ear, hand on his shoulder. “You don’t want that. Fucking whore she is.”

ꨄ︎ Looking over at Thanos, hes already looking at you too. “Ya’ know her?” “Shes ma’ ex. Broke up with me cause-.. Honestly don’t know.” he leans off of Nam-gyu and lays back on the steps and sighs. Yeah whatever. We’ll see.

3rd game

ꨄ︎ The woman voice announced the game Mingle. It was already a few rounds in- he was sticking with Thanos of course. Then after the platform stopped spinning for the 3rd time, the woman voice announced 2 players. Before Nam-gyu could even look over- Thanos had already ran off with Min-su.

ꨄ︎ Fucking jerk. Then- fuck. You grab him by the wrist and pull him into an empty room and lock the door shut. Turning around to look at him and fixing your hair.

ꨄ︎ “kill me now..” he says quietly under his breath- hoping you never heard him. “Uh.. excuse me?” his eyes shoot from the corner of the pink room to you staring at him with your eye brow raised and leaning against the wall like him. “n-nothin’..”

ꨄ︎ The room stood silent for a few seconds. “Your friends with Thanos, yeah?” you break the silence. Hes looking all over the room in awkwardness. But when you talk he doesn’t even bother to look at you.

ꨄ︎ “I’m talking to you.” you say getting annoyed. God he was just like Thanos. “Yeah.” he says plainly. You just nod waiting for the doors to unlock. Not too long after they do. You turn around pushing the door open not saying a word to him. He literally just gives you the side eye when he walks out with you and scoffs walking off to find Thanos.

Before lunch

ꨄ︎ When you got back you didn’t just want to sit around like you usually did. So you went to go try and make a friend. Eventually after trying with many people, you did. His name was Dae-ho and was probably- well.. he was, the sweetest person you have ever met.

ꨄ︎ You guys sat around talking about the games and having a laugh. Not even knowing the daggers Nam-gyu was drilling into the back of your head.

ꨄ︎ But he couldn’t just go up to you. He doesn’t know you like that. It cuts him out of his trance when circle, triangle, and square guards walk in just in time for lunch.

ꨄ︎ You and Dae-ho walk up to the stand and grab the food. You look over and see Thanos, giving the guard a dirty look and behind him Nam-gyu, smiling a little nod ti the guard and walking off behind Thanos. Hah! Like a dog!

ꨄ︎ You smile a little and walk off back to Dae-ho and sit down to eat whatever shit they gave you. Meanwhile Nam-gyu was still shooting daggers. “Nam-su-“ “Nam-gyu.” he corrected him. “Right. Do ya wanna go mess with em? Ya seem.. weird.”

ꨄ︎ Nam-gyu thinks just for a second. “Sure.” Thanos smirks and opens his necklace and pops a pill- offering him one as well. Obviously, he doesn’t decline the offer and takes one too, Thanos not noticing he took one extra.

ꨄ︎ You took a bite of your food and cringed. “God, the least they could do is warm this shit up-“ “Awh man- looks like i can’t get laid today huh? Maybe another time then, right (Name)?” you get interrupted by Thanos coming over teasing you with Nam-gyu behind him. “Nah man- she’ll probably get you and pony tail at the same time! Wouldn’t doubt it.” Nam-gyu chimes in.

ꨄ︎ You give them a ‘the fuck are you doing here’ look and shake it off looking back to Dae-ho “Ignore them. There just fucking moles trying to get there small dicks wet.” you say to him looking back at them half-way through your sentence.

ꨄ︎ Thanos was about to open his mouth to say something, but Nam-gyu nugged his shoulder, signalling for them to just leave. And surprisingly they do. But just as they’re walking away, Nam-gyu looks back and glares at you. You just flick him off and roll your eyes and turn back to Dae-ho to continue your conversation.

ꨄ︎ Later on, its 10 minutes until lights out and you’re getting ready for bed. Damn you wish there was more than just a thin sheet of a blanket. All of a sudden you need to pee. ‘I doubt they’re gonna let me pee now.’ you think to yourself.

ꨄ︎ You walk through the middle of the room, and over to the bathroom door- knocking. “Hey! I need to use the bathroom!” the guard slides the little panel over and unlocks the door letting you in. That was easier than expected.

ꨄ︎ You walk in and are guided to the bathrooms, men and women. Walking into the women stall, you let out a breath you didn’t even know you were holding. Damn these guards are weird. You walk to a stall, do your business and when you come out walk to the sink and look at yourself in the mirror.

ꨄ︎ For a second you have some peace and quiet. That was until the bathroom door opened, expecting it to be another girl, you only spare a little quick glance. But looking back up fast- it was Nam-gyu?..

ꨄ︎ “The fuck?” you say standing up straight. “They just let fucking pervs in the women’s bathrooms now huh?” raising an eyebrow. He looked.. almost pissed? But why is he so.. holy shit? Ew what the fuck stop thinking like that!

ꨄ︎ “I got a small dick huh, (Name)?” he spits out walking and stopping right in-front of you. What?- oh. You almost forgot about that. “I don’t fucking know? Almost all jerks have small dicks y’know.” rolling your eyes- frustrated not wanting to make chitchat right now.

ꨄ︎ He looks away and smirks clenching his jaw and poking his tongue into his cheek. Holy shit he needed to stop doing that. Then he looks back at you leaning into your ear. “Then, (Name). You’re gonna find out. Right. Now.” you look quickly back at him, confusion on your face. “What?-“

ꨄ︎ Before you could even get out your full sentence, he puts both of his hands on your shoulders and pushes you down on your knees. And when you look up, oh. He’s pulling his pants down. Your eyes blown wide. Not knowing what to do or what to say, just sit there on your knees.. watching your exes friend pull out his already hard dick right in your face.

ꨄ︎ “Small now, hey?” he says breaking you out if your staring, now looking up. When you look up he’s smirking and grabbing his base, tapping it against your cheek. “Why don’t you test the waters?” you furrow your eyebrows feeling him against your cheek.

ꨄ︎ Now hes grabbing the back of your head and before you could think, your mouth is opening and taking him in your mouth all the way. He groans and balls your hair in his fist. Leaning his head back. When he looks down- your eyes and squeezed shut trying not to gag.

ꨄ︎ “Look at me. Now.” you open your eyes and look up at him, tears in your eyes.. what the fuck was happening?! He moves your head in a slow pace- biting his lip and smirking as you struggle to keep your eyes open.

ꨄ︎ So be told.. you have never given a blowjob before. So thats great!.. ha ha.. A little bit goes by of him groaning, he pulls your hair and surprisingly you whine at it. He chuckles and his chuckle is turned into a little moan. He lets go of your hair and you keep bobbing your head.. was he even moving your head all that time?..

ꨄ︎ You grab onto his hip and he grabs onto your neck stopping your head at the base of his dick. Again, he moves his head back and groans.. and your eyes blown wide again. Feeling the warm substance flow into your mouth.

ꨄ︎ He pulls your head off if his cock and you keep your mouth shut tight- not knowing what to do with the cum in your mouth. He pulls up his pants and looks down at you. Biting his lip again, looking unfazed about what he’d just done.

ꨄ︎ He kneels down on one knee and you look at him surprised. He puts his finger on your lip, dragging it down. “Swallow.” for a split second, he’s looking in your eyes. It takes you a second to comprehend on what he’d had said. But.. you do.

ꨄ︎ Closing your eyes shut and swallowing his cum. When you open your teary eyes, he’s smirking..? He slaps your cheek gently “Good.. see ya’ (Name).” and just like that, he stands up and leaves you on the ground, on your knees like a dog. You stare into the distance for a second to comprehend on what had just happened.

ꨄ︎ You walk out of the bathrooms a little bit later and walk up to Nam-gyu and Thanos. Thanos looks over and looks confused. “What ya want barbie doll?” he says looking at Min-su chuckling to himself.. of course Min-su doesn’t laugh with him.

ꨄ︎ You lean into Thanos’ ear and whisper.. “It’s bigger than yours.. I think.” you lean back up smirking and walk away.

ꨄ︎ He turns to Nam-gyu “Stealing my girls now Nam-su?!” he says, acting like his heart broke, putting his hand over his heart. Nam-gyu just goes a giddy smile and leans his head down into his hands.

A/n • yeah so.. idk if this was cringey or not😭 but i literally had to take breaks in between when writing the smut part🙏🏻 tell me if i need to work on my smut or anything cause im thinking of writing more on the squid game characters..

[milkyberryjsk]

i know muse's (literal) death was unceremonious and underwhelming but there is something thematically satisfying about the villain that made spectacles of his killings die in such a.. bland way

[measureyourlifeincake]

someone in the comments of the new iwtv teaser said "Sam is not beating the allegations of being possessed by Lestat" and like. have you heard of a thing called "acting"

[theflyingfeeling]

...💌

[dailyautophagy]

I can’t imagine being so young I need an audience to feel real

[bag-of-milk69]

if Cherri and angel don’t have a song together at some point I’m going to lose my marbles

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[monstriiss]

.

[13eyond13]

.

[therevengeoffrankenstein]

openly weeping at the idea of someone genuinely hating soul punk.

[voidimp]

probably couldve been diagnosed w hEDS a lot younger than twenty-fucking-eight if the foot doctor i went to in like middle/high school or my regular doctor had considered the possibility that the weak ligaments in my feet/ankles might be due to a connective tissue disorder that affects my whole fucking body instead of just being a localized thing

[berrymeter]

sometimes i think maybe i'd like to actually write & post my writing on here but then i remember the worldbuilding i was working on needs to be entirely reworked in some parts & it's like. what's the point until i've worked all that out

[slimyenemy]

unfortunately falling in love with a cultist who wants you dead and worse for no reason just means the near entirety of the cult is absolutely fucked instead of them all while you're vibing like hell with hurting yourself off them hating you more and more every single day because there's legit like no better way to process this lol c':

[ourlordapollo]

And if I told you I finally came up with a fucking framing device for my Twinkfred von Karma origin story series thing

[nereidprinc3ss]

do you believe me now? | 9

in which we find out how the morning after went for fem!reader. you finally share with spencer after unanticipated anxieties come up. you're continually shocked by his affection for you.

series masterlist

this series is 18+ (angst, fluff) warnings/tags: (preface none of the bad stuff is done by spencer) sexual harassment, slut shaming, non consensual voyeurism of sorts, blood + pain from losing virginity, talk of rape (nothing like that actually happens), implied nonspecific age gap (someone says he looks slightly older than you) non sexual nudity, showering together, intimacy, ewww being in love is embarrassing a/n: I honestly was not gonna post this today but I decided to bc it's just Tumblr its not that deep also you can probably tell I am just creating problems bc I don't wanna let go of them...... ik this is supposed to be a smutty series btw and trust good things come to those who wait!!!but anyways idk what I'm doing and I kinda hate this!! lolol!!!

Friday morning

The air is thick when you wake up—the angle of the sun through the window is lower than usual, and the binding weight of your limbs as you struggle to stretch in place all suggest that you’ve slept in. 

But you don’t check the time quite yet—for a moment, you simply lie there, studying the pattern on your ceiling, downloading the events of the previous night. 

Flashes of skin on skin, lips, breaths, whispers, promises. Phantom sensations. 

Was it even real?

Your apartment is deafeningly silent, you realize. And you have that sinking sense, which you can’t quite explain but know to be true—that you are alone. Spencer is gone. You can’t feel him like you’d be able to if he were simply on the couch or in the kitchen. He’s definitely not in bed with you, and the sheets have long gone cold. 

The truth of it renders about as slowly as your sluggish consciousness does, and you frown, not quite sure what to do with that information. Should you be angry? Should you cry?

Mostly you’re confused. 

As soon as you sit up, sore thighs and abs and a strange ache between your legs confirm that last night was not a dream nor a figment of your imagination. You’ll figure out what to do about your twinging body in a moment—for now you rub your eyes and blindly reach for the bedside table, knocking several things to the ground in your quest for your phone. 

It’s not there, you realize, once you actually try to use your eyes. It’s not in bed with you either as you pat the sheets, and it doesn’t materialize as you sit on your knees and shake out the comforter. 

From this venture, however, you learn two things. First, Spencer must’ve taken it upon himself to get you dressed last night, which you have no recollection of, but you doubt you sleepwalked your way into underwear and a big t-shirt; and second—you bled. 

It wasn’t something you were thinking about in the moment, but now, faced with all the evidence and none of the pleasure of last night’s activities, it’s jarring. A stark, unforgiving archipelago of red on a pristine sea of white. 

People say, at its best, sex brings couples closer. Spencer once told you it could facilitate feelings of deeper connection. But here you are, no longer a virgin, and what do you have to show for it? A stronger bond with your boyfriend? He’s not even here. 

All you have is this glaring red stain marring perfectly good sheets. It mocks you, like something you’ve dropped and can’t pick back up. You can’t think looking at it, and you need to think, and so in a fit of frustration you’re pulling the comforter onto the floor, leaning over your mattress and yanking the fitted sheet free. You ball it up in your hands, breathing heavily—and realize you bled through to the mattress. 

Wonderful. 

Spencer’s just at work, you tell yourself, grabbing the first pair of shorts you see and pulling them on before gathering the ruined sheet once more and stomping on aching legs through your apartment to the hallway, not even bothering with shoes. He can’t just play hooky because his clingy girlfriend lost her virginity and needs to be comforted like some previously celibate high school cheerleader.

But you miss him so much it’s making you angry, so much your eyes are stinging and welling with tears of frustration as you shove your bed linens down the trash chute at the end of your floor’s hallway. You’re supposed to be independent. That’s how you’ve always been. Since when does it bother you to wake up alone? It’s just sex. It’s not as big a deal for him as it is for you. Or for anyone. You’re the one overreacting, you’re the one who expects too much. He works for the FBI, for god’s sake. There are people dying, and here you are—

“What’chya got there?”

The gruff voice makes you jump, and you turn around just as the bundle is disappearing down into the hole in the wall. It’s your neighbor, Jerry—the one in the unit right next to you. You’re not happy to see him, especially like this. He’s got a blue 5 o’clock shadow despite the hour, and is clad in ill-fitting gray sweats and a pair of ratty slippers. His distended belly strains at the confines of an oil-stained white shirt, tied with a dingy checkered robe. You barely meet his drooping eyes before looking longingly back at your cracked door down the hall. 

“Just… garbage.” You shift your weight, hiding a wince as you try to find a comfortable position to stand in. Jerry notices this, and you wish his eyes wouldn’t linger on your bare legs like that. 

“Huh. Looks like someone had a late night.”

“Sorry?”

“It’s just noon and you’re still in your PJ’s.”

Disgusting. And who the fuck is he to judge? At least your pajamas are clean. 

You shrug. “Yeah.”

He scratches his bald head. 

“So that boy tired you out pretty good, huh?”

Your stomach drops. Your brain freezes. 

When you don’t reply, he takes the liberty of continuing on. 

“Saw him sneaking out of your apartment in the middle of the night. He looked a little older ’n you. You like ’em older?” His laugh is a cruel bark. “Yeah… He’s a lucky man. You know, it’s natural for a man to like a younger girl. Fresh meat, ’n all.” You try to speak and can only swallow a gag. Jerry adjusts his stance, hands in pockets like he’s telling you a local news story. “Heard some of it. Sounded like you were putting on quite the show. And sure, a young pretty thing like you? Hell, I would if I could. But I’ll tell you right now, you don’t wanna end up like my daughter. She wasn’t as pretty as you, but still—three kids with three men by the time she was 24. She should'a kept her damn legs closed. You know, she loved to cry rape, but you gotta ask yourself, if your legs are open all the damn time, what do you expect? Back in the day we all knew girls like that—” he bats the air dismissively. “Guess you can’t call ’em sluts anymore—they get what they’re asking for one way or another. See, I think everyone still knows it and they’re just too afraid to say it. So my advice: don’t let yourself get used up, you hear me? Not by men who are gonna ride you hard and put you away wet. So to speak. Men can smell a girl like that from a mile away, and they’ll take it as an open invitation. It’s just human nature.”

When he finally stops talking, the hallway fills with a vacuous silence. It makes your ears ring. Several moments pass, but you’re frozen. Your whole body feels intolerably hot but your blood is freezing. How are you supposed to react? 

“Hello?” He says, voice loud enough to hurt your ears as it echoes. 

Get out of here, your more rational self says to the rest of you, and you mumble something, you don’t even know what, excusing yourself to hurry on stiff legs back down the hall to your door. 

Once inside, you do up every lock on your door, and face your apartment, shoulders tensed practically to your ears and fists clenched so tight your arms are trembling. On autopilot you look around for something to do, but there’s nothing. More importantly, nobody.

I’ll call Spencer. He’ll know what to do. 

No, you won’t, your higher self reminds you. You lost your phone. And besides, it’s clearly not like he wanted to stick around last night. Maybe he doesn’t even like you anymore. 

So you’re stuck here. Stranded. Sharks can smell blood. 

Processing that information, you walk back to your bedroom and close the door behind you—before promptly sinking to the ground and burying your face in the duvet with a deep, silent sob.  

That goes on for a few minutes until you realize you’re too achy and you can’t breathe and you’re forced onto your side, curling up in your blanket on the floor like it’s a nest and not a burial plot. 

You shouldn’t get ahead of yourself. A relationship can’t implode twice in 24 hours.  You don’t have your phone. Maybe he’s texted you. 

But is that really all you’re worth? A text sent after the fact? He couldn’t sacrifice a few hours to sleep by your side? Couldn’t even wake you up to say goodbye? You think about the sweet things he’d said afterward—the way he held you, fingers dancing down your spine. Promises he made when you were half asleep in his arms, so sure he’d be there when you woke up. 

Even fucking Jerry the neighbor—who you think might have just sexually harassed you in the hallway—said Spencer should’ve stuck around. 

Fuck. 

No, don’t think about that. It doesn’t even matter. They were just words. 

Heard some of it. Sounded like you put on quite the show. 

Your skin crawls and your stomach turns as you hold yourself tighter. Something that was supposed to be private and special—and some random man not only had a front row seat to your deflowering but felt comfortable talking about it with you. It feels like a violation. Like he crashed a really important party. If you had known you had an audience last night, you never would’ve done it. 

The way he looked at you, tracing your legs with his eyes like he was touching you—

You scramble up from the floor and walk heavily on your knees to the dresser, digging up a pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. You should be showering, but you don’t want to deal with your body right now. You just want to hide. 

Friday evening—present

After your conversation, Spencer seems eager to make sure the car ride to his apartment is not reminiscent of the car ride to yours last night—he holds your hand, resting in your lap, bringing your knuckles to his lips at a red light. Every few moments he glances over at you, maybe to appreciate the view (though you doubt it’s especially scenic at the moment) or perhaps to gauge your mood. The further away you get from your apartment building the better you feel, and you try to focus on that. Sure—maybe you had a shit day, but Spencer’s here now, and he didn’t leave you after all. In fact, since finding your phone, you’ve seen the series of very sweet and highly concerned messages he sent over the course of a few hours. They almost make your stomach hurt. It would’ve been really nice to have those earlier. 

He doesn’t ask you any more of the hard questions, but you sense an inquisition in the works and getting closer with every curious glance he gives you. It’s like he’s unwrapping you, layer by layer, using his impressive cognitive faculties to drill through your skull into your brain and deeper still into your soul. 

Back in his apartment you sit awkwardly on the bed. Last time you’d been here, things hadn’t gone so well for you. 

The shower starts in the adjoined bathroom, and Spencer comes out a moment later, warm light seeping into the darkened bedroom. Purple and dark blue mixing with yellow, like a bruise. 

“Hey. Water’s warm.”

You hum, smoothing the material of his neatly made bed with your palm and watching the way it flattens. That had been your doing. You may have thought he was on the verge of breaking up with you last time you slept here, but you didn’t want to leave his home a mess. Didn’t want to leave any evidence of your having been here. 

A moment passes. You thumb at a thread and don’t look up. 

Spencer crosses the space without a word and crouches in front of you, hands coming up to cup the back of your legs, running knee to ankle and up again. 

“Can you tell me what’s going on? Please?” He asks softly. His voice wrings your heart out. Now that you’re in a completely different space, and you’re not so alone anymore, you’re struggling to sort out your feelings. It should be fine. You’re with Spencer. Presumably he still loves you. 

And you still feel terrible. 

“I don’t really want to talk about it,” you whisper. 

“I know,” he says, just as quietly. 

Spencer doesn’t say anything else. I know you don’t want to—and yet. Your lips twist to the side. He’s persistent. Even in his kindness. It’s not the kind of care that falters or buckles when you try turning it away. 

“My neighbor said he c—” 

You’re forced to stop, frowning by how overcome you are. It shouldn’t be such a big deal. Worse things have happened to you. 

“He said he could hear us. Last night.”

Spencer’s hands stop on your legs. You can’t meet his eyes. You’re afraid whatever you find there won’t be the right thing. 

“He’s in the unit next to you?”

You nod. “We share a wall.”

There’s a moment’s hesitation and your stomach sinks. He doesn’t understand. 

“What did he say?”

“Just… dumb shit,” you scoff, fiercely wiping away a stray tear. “He said he listened and it sounded like I was putting on quite the show. And then he—and then he told me not to let you… use me up, whatever that means. He called me fresh meat, and said I shouldn’t let you ride me hard and put me away wet, and bad things happen to sluts who can’t keep their legs closed.”

You finish with a sharp inhale, briefly leaning down and covering your face with your hands when you realize how upset you really are. You want to hide it. 

A fraught moment passes. Spencer reaches for your hands, no doubt to try and pull them away from your face. You spare him the trouble, sitting up with a cavalier sniff before he can touch you and brushing your hair behind your ears.  

His voice is uncomfortably quiet. You can’t look at him. “Baby…”

“Don’t. It’s fine. I only told you because you asked.”

It’s not his fault, but you’re mad at him anyway, and so you avoid eye-contact like it’s the plague. Maybe it’s just safe to be mad at him. Maybe he knows that. 

Regardless, you’re not in the mood for coddling. It’s borderline repulsive—like trying to mix oil and water. Anything good slides right off of you because maybe you’re not designed to be able to absorb good things.

Nothing changes for a minute—and then he’s standing, offering you a moment alone as he goes to crank the shower off. 

As soon as he’s gone all the air is vacuumed from your lungs and you crumple, heaving it back in silently as your head spins and your heart races. It’s like your mind is split in two—half is primal, overwhelming panic, and the other a cold observatory eye, full of disdain and scorn for what it deems a severe overreaction to a few nasty comments made hours ago. You’re so tangled up as you curl in on yourself on your side that you can’t even cry. You’re just trying to remember how to breathe, ignoring the crawling feeling up your spine and the tingling heat at the back of your neck. The shower stops on the downbeat of your staggered breath, and then it’s silent. He’ll come back at any minute and see what a mess you’ve become. 

You’ve ruined everything. If only you could’ve kept it to yourself. 

When Spencer reappears in the doorway, and sees you collapsed and curling like paper burnt at the edges, he’s quick to return to you. 

“I’m sorry,” you manage, trying and failing to brush away hair from your cheek, which is wet—so you were crying—and Spencer shushes you, pushing it away for you as he kneels. 

“Why are you apologizing?”

“I’m being dramatic, I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

Of course, at the end of that declaration, a sob wrenches its way from the depths of you, so bright and cleaving you half expect the smell of ozone to follow. You follow it with a blisteringly self-deprecating laugh.

“Don’t—don’t do that. Don’t minimize it.”

His hand is warm where it rests over your cheek, affectionate, but he sounds frustrated. You frown and sniffle. 

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Tell me his name.” 

It’s a quiet request, made as gently as his hand cards through the hair at your temple like it’s woven with fragile threads of gold.

“No, Spencer,” you beg, anxiety pooling in your gut and rising in your throat, “please, I don’t want to make it a thing, I don’t want you to talk to him. You’ll just make it worse, it’s fine.”

You look at him imploringly, eyes wide and still welling, hoping to god the gravity of your plead will sink in. His are a bed of coals—somewhere between furious and sympathetic, and you try to appeal to the sympathy. 

“It is not fine. Saying sluts get what’s coming to them is not fine, that is a threat, and I’m not going to talk to him. I’m going to have him fucking arrested.”

You scoff. 

“For talking to me? Yeah, good luck with that. Cops are really known for being helpful when it comes to sexual harassment.”

“Baby. Men who are comfortable violating your boundaries like that are exponentially more likely to commit an actual violent crime. That is not a safe person for you to be around.”

“He’s not gonna rape me, Spencer! He’s just a gross old man! This is why I didn’t want to tell you, because I knew you’d make it a bigger deal than it is! You did it last night and you’re doing it now—you think everyone is out to get me!”

To his credit, he doesn’t so much as raise his voice. 

“Of course it’s a big deal. You’re upset.”

“Yeah, well, it’s my own fault.”

Maybe it’s the wrong thing to say. Spencer goes silent for a moment. 

“It’s your fault?”

“Yes. It’s my fault because… because now everyone knows that I’m…”

His voice goes impossibly soft again. “Knows that you’re what?”

“I mean, what did I expect?” You sniffle. “It’s an apartment. If I didn’t want to deal with the consequences, I shouldn’t’ve done it.”

He says your name like it’s a ring he twists around his finger as he tries to think—to gather the right words. 

“The consequences for having sex do not involve punishment or sexual harassment.”

“It’s the result of my actions, so—”

“No, it’s the result of your neighbor being disgusting. I don’t care what he heard, he doesn’t get to talk to you like that.”

“He—”

“If you heard something you weren’t supposed to hear would you bring it up to the person the next day?”

“Stop interrupting me,” you plead. Spencer looks like he has something to say to that, too, but he swallows it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “I… understand that he shouldn’t have said those things to me. But that doesn’t change the fact that he did, and it was really, really uncomfortable and I don’t wanna—I don’t wanna go back now. Maybe that’s dramatic, but…”

You trail off, studying the ceiling as a fresh wash of tears dampen your cheeks. Spencer’s hand slides down your waist as you wipe your face. “I don’t regret the fact that we slept together. I just regret everything that’s happened since, and if I didn’t do it last night, none of this would’ve happened. I feel like he ruined everything.”

The words end on another cry and you put your hand over your eyes like you could stop it all from coming out. You sniffle. Spencer is quiet for a moment. 

“I’m sorry,” he eventually whispers, his own voice threaded with emotion. “I…”

He sighs. You push your hair back and look at him. 

“What?”

He studies you, chewing on his lip like a nervous tick you’ve never seen before. You sit up again, feet balanced on the edge of the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes remain stuck on you. Again, you ask, “What?”

“I didn’t think about it until you brought it up earlier, but—I did see someone. Him, I think, when I went out to my car to get my bag. He was smoking when I came out, and when I got back into the lobby he was waiting for the elevator. We took it up together, he—he said something to me, so I know he saw me going back to you. I don’t know why he made it sound like I left.”

You frown. “What did he say?”

Spencer hesitates. 

“He asked if I had a long night. He was obviously commenting on the fact that I was basically half-dressed and getting an overnight bag from my car at one in the morning, so he could probably gather from context what was going on, but… my point is, he knew I came back and it seems like he was almost trying to make you think I didn’t. So for whatever reason, maybe he was lying about being able to hear you, too. Maybe he just wanted to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s a long shot, Spencer.”

“I know, but… it’s not that long. He obviously gets off on it—and besides, he said you were putting on a show, but you weren’t… you weren’t loud, last night.”

Heats blossoms in your cheeks and you look down at your lap. “Thin walls.”

“Have you ever heard your neighbors before?”

You have to seriously think about it. 

“I’ve heard them yelling…”

“Nothing else?”

Again, you consider it. The answer comes as a surprise. 

“No.”

“Okay, so… does that maybe help a little bit? I really, really don’t want you to feel like last night was a mistake in any way, or let anyone ruin it for you.”

You breathe deeply. “I know. It… it kinda helps, yeah.”

His hands come to the top of your legs. There’s so much genuine care and concern in his eyes. “Yeah?”

Only when you nod does he relax some. His hands skim your thighs, and you set yours on top of his own. For a few breaths, it’s quiet. And then you laugh. 

“What?” Spencer asks, a tentative smile curling his own lips like he doesn’t know if he should be concerned or participate in your mirth. 

“I—I don’t know how to say it without being cheesy,” you admit, sniffling the last of your tears away and smiling softly down at him. 

“I think you should say it.”

You link your fingers with his on your lap, watching the way they twine like it’s what they were meant to do. 

“I was just thinking about how I had, like, the worst day ever. And how much worse it would’ve gotten if you didn’t show up when you did—I would’ve completely spiraled. But you did show up. And how easy it is to kind of compartmentalize, because I have you, and when I’m with you… nothing feels as hard. You make the bad things feel smaller, I guess.”

By the end, it got a lot more real than you’d intended, and your face feels warm, and your stomach is sort of floaty—but you don’t look away from Spencer. You hold his gaze, though it makes you a little nervous, because you want him to know you mean it. 

He inhales, like he’s going to say something, but he doesn’t—only looks at you, like you’re beautiful and impossible and a defiance of everything he thought he knew, which was almost everything. To him, you’re expansive. A gorgeous anomaly.

And then he stands, holding his hands out for you. Without question you take them, and he pulls you to your feet, absorbing the momentum that threatens to topple you, and he wraps his arms around you tightly. So tight you have to laugh. 

“I love you,” he says against your shoulder, one hand coming to cradle the back of your head. 

Your humor softens, but doesn’t become inflexible—still tinges your words with the perfect amount of euphoria and relief. “I love you.”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, and your laughter flares again. 

“You don’t have to thank me.”

“But I’m grateful. I… I feel lucky.”

Always so earnest, so vulnerable, when you’re least expecting it—which should be always, you’re learning. You pull back to look up at him. You don’t want that concession to go unrewarded. 

“Me too,” you say softly. He’s doing that fond thing with his eyes, where they’re all soft and it’s like he’s trying to take in every millimeter of your face. This time when he goes to touch your hair, you have the wherewithal to dodge it. 

“You’re really brave for trying to touch my hair right now.”

“Why?” He asks, utterly bewildered, and the softness of the moment falls away easily, but not without leaving everything smudged and fuzzy around the edges. Everything is still okay. It’s still good. 

“Because it’s dirty,” you laugh, dodging him again and eventually ducking from the circle of his arms entirely. 

“Oh, your hair is dirty? Should we breakup?”

“Hm. I don’t really like when you take on that tone with me.” You’re still half-laughing, dipping and weaving past him toward the bathroom as he tries to get you in his arms again. And then you stop, toes just short of the tile. 

“What is it?” He asks after another moment. You blink, looking at the shower head as it drips. 

“Um—would it be okay if I had a five minute headstart in the shower?”

“Sure. Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine. I just… I need a minute.”

His hand skims your waist as he passes by you through the open door. “Okay. Why don’t you grab your stuff and I’ll get the water going again?”

Soon enough, you’re remembering how much better his water pressure is than yours as you stand under the torrent, eyes closed as if in prayer. You definitely could’ve stood to shower earlier in the day. But you had other concerns, earlier, and besides—you were afraid of what you might find. 

And you were right to be. The sex was nice. The aftermath isn’t quite as pretty. 

When Spencer taps on the bathroom door, you’re nervous. 

“You can come in,” you call. 

“You sure? If you want it all to yourself, that’s okay too.”

“No, no. It’s fine.”

The door creaks open, and gently clicks into place again, and fabric rustles as he undresses, and soon the shower curtain is sliding aside and he’s stepping in. Unsurprisingly, the space feels smaller with him in it—but not small in a bad way. It feels warmer. Again you’re awash in that safe feeling, which you didn’t realize you’d been missing so much today. 

“Hi,” he smiles, a teasing sliver of what you know to be the most brilliant light in the world, and stunning like the rest of him as you watch the water begin to darken his hair. 

“Hello.”

His smile flickers briefly wider like you’re his favorite thing and he just can’t contain his joy, and then it’s easing again, giving you a moment to catch your breath. 

“Is it okay if I touch you?”

In this alien context the idea has your heart pounding—you don’t really understand the concept of casual nudity yet, but you know he’ll respect your earlier wishes to keep it chaste and so you nod. 

Spencer doesn’t take you immediately in his arms like you’d expected—instead his hands find a rest at your collarbones and carefully push your wet hair back over your shoulders—but his eyes aren’t cast quite low enough to be indecent. They connect dots over your chest and neck, and he thumbs at one just over your pulse point. 

“Oh, man,” he laughs, and you think you detect a hint of self-deprecation. “That’s… wow, I didn’t realize I… sorry. They don’t hurt, do they?”

It’s your turn to smile as he’s suddenly over-concerned. 

“No, they don’t hurt.”

“Good.” He looks relieved, but it doesn’t last as his eyes trace lower—though you don’t sense any hunger in it. He’s just taking you in. “How about everywhere else?”

“Um… it’s not bad. Kind of, like… I don’t know. Sore. But it’s not bad.”

“Still?” He frowns, clearly unfazed by your evident embarrassment on the subject. You shrug and avert your eyes. 

“It’s fine. it was worse earlier, so.”

That does not have the calming effect you’d intended. 

“Worse? 1-10, how—”

“Spencer, it’s fine, I promise. It’s only when I—when I move certain ways, I notice. Honestly the… blood… was way more disconcerting to me.”

“Yeah, I saw your bed… sorry for ruining your sheets. I’ll buy you new ones.”

You shrug, watching the water run in rivulets down your arm and branch off into tributaries and waterfalls from your fingers. “You don’t have to do that. It was a collaborative effort.”

Normally this conversation would have you melting into an embarrassed puddle, but something about the tile cocoon of the shower, the humid fog, the proximity, feels safe. The white noise of water on porcelain, the warmth. You go to him at the same time as he comes to you—his arms around your waist, yours slung over his shoulders. Your eyes flutter shut. Falling asleep standing up has never seemed so plausible until now. 

He presses a kiss to your head. You sigh. 

“Ugh. I don’t want to deal with washing my hair.”

“I can do it,” Spencer immediately offers. You frown. 

“I was—you don’t have to. I didn’t mean to make it sound like I was asking.”

“I know you didn’t.”

“It’s a process.”

“I understand.”

“You would have to do it exactly how I say.”

“I am willing to learn. I like taking care of you.”

You’re glad for the hot water, then, and as he washes your hair. You’re not sure if you’re crying at the tenderness of his touch, or the way he loves you like you’re easy to love. You’re too tired to explain it. 

He doesn’t push you, because he never pushes you. 

He just washes your hair. 

-

part ten